So sorry Mr. Watson, but that's not exactly a direct request. You can't come unless I let you in, so I'd think a nice please is in order. Please let me in. I scribbled, sighing at his pure annoyance. Even so, the very handwriting made me calm down a little bit; he was here, I would soon be with him, what else could I want? The light glowed and in a matter of seconds I appeared in what looked like an underground dungeon that had gotten an Extreme Makeover. There were stone walls with ivy growing up them and windows that made the incoming sunlight glow green and murky, as if it were underwater or something. There were black leather couches and dark wooden desks, over all a very rich looking place. A fire was burning in the stone fireplace, the only source of light other than a single oil lamp on the desk. Sherlock was lounging on one of the couches, his head against the back of the couch, his feet on the coffee table and a book in his hands.
"Fancy seeing you here." he muttered, shutting the book slowly and looking up at me with a bored expression.
"Hi." I shrugged, sitting on the opposite couch.
"I didn't know someone could eat dinner so quickly." he sighed.
"Are you disappointed?" I defended, knowing that he wasn't deliberately trying to be mean but definitely coming across as mean.
"No, of course not Mr. Watson, it's always a pleasure having you here." he assured.
"So where are we then? I haven't seen this area of town before." I pointed out, looking around once more.
"Oh, this is the Slytherin Common room, what became my home actually." He said with a hint of pride in his voice.
"It's very nice, kind of creepy, but nice all the same." I decided.
"My thoughts exactly." Sherlock agreed. I tried to imagine this place with people mingling all around, talking, laughing, and doing homework. It was odd to think that this seemingly abandoned castle was also occupied by living people.
"Why haven't I seen anyone? You said there were some people here." I pointed out.
"Oh yes, well, he's quite shy. Maybe there's a little bit of rage, but other than that I'd imagine he's lingering around somewhere."
"Who is he?" I asked curiously, wanting to be prepared for when we might meet. Sherlock just sighed with a crooked smile, and I got the hint, an answer for another time once again. There were so many secrets surrounding this place and the man in front of me.
"Sherlock, why is there only one person wandering around here? Shouldn't you like more than one person?" I pointed out.
"I like more than one person, of course I do, but it just so happens one of them is a filthy traitor and the other one is sitting in front of me." Sherlock pointed out with a small smile.
"A filthy traitor?"
"Oh nothing, stupid." he muttered. There was some silence, filled only by the soft crackling of the fire.
"What are you reading?" I asked, looking at the book on the desk.
"Spell book, nothing special. I don't know why I continually bother torturing myself with magic but there was so much I still hadn't discovered before." Sherlock sighed, drumming his fingers against the hard back cover.
"Can I see?" I asked hopefully. Sherlock handed the book over, and I didn't know if it was intentional or not but our fingers brushed ever so slightly. It was funny how even the smallest of touches could send off a chain reaction, making my cheeks glow red once again. I opened the book, trying to pretend nothing ever happened, which was easy to forget when I saw some of the spells in this book. They were morbid, with sketches and everything. I looked at the first spell and looked up at Sherlock with shock.
"How to gorge someone's eyes out?" I asked in horror.
"Never know when you might need something like that." he shrugged. "And you must admit it's a lot easier to say a couple of words that actually get a knife and go through all of that pain anyway."
"Why would you ever need that?" I asked.
"I don't, not anymore at least. It's just quite entertaining, thinking about what exactly I should've used on Anderson." He said with a small smile.
"Anderson?"
"The brainless bully in Hogwarts, I would've loved to toast his eyeballs." Sherlock said in a dreamy sort of voice. I shuddered, looking through more of the spells. They got worse and worse, puking up slugs, turning tongues into scorpions, finally when there was one about burning out livers I shut the book.
"This is fireside reading to you huh?" I asked, kind of disgusted.
"So to say yes." Sherlock shrugged. I tossed the book back at him, which he caught easily, but looked rather betrayed.
"Anything wrong Mr. Watson?" he asked. I pursed my lips, knowing there was definitely something wrong with this picture but I just couldn't put my finger on it. I guess he wasn't the dancing saint that I once took him for.
"I don't know." I admitted.
"You know I'd never hurt you." He pointed out. "That was the first promise I gave you, and I never go back on my promises. Never." I looked up into his eyes and saw that he was right, I did trust him not to hurt me, but there was something in him, something sparkling in those green irises that made me fully believe what he says.
"I know." I assured, making him seem to relax a little bit.
"Surely you've got a school bully?"
"Of course." I agreed.
"Would you have any second guesses then?"
"I don't think even he deserves to get his liver burned out."
"Well then obviously you haven't been tortured day by day." he sighed sadly.
"Tortured?"
"Just because the staff tries to inforce the banning over magical use out of the classrooms no one actually follows." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well yes, I'd imagine that to be true." I agreed. Sherlock sighed, like he didn't want to talk about this but it was definitely good to get it off of his shoulders.
"Anderson, Donovan, the whole gang, they loved to torture me, I mean really, torture. They may be complete idiots but it doesn't take many brains to aim a good curse." He reached up to the neck of his shirt, pulling it down ever slightly to reveal a big white scar, stretching from his shoulder down. it looked awful, his skin scarred
"Oh my god..." I muttered. I didn't know what to do, was I supposed to comfort him, make sure he was okay, cry with him or help him go gorge someone's eyes out.
"And they didn't even get punished." He hissed, readjusting his shirt to hide the nasty scar.
"What happened?" I asked, trying not to stare at him. I didn't think there was anything you could possible do to deserve something like that.
"Burning, magical fire though, so it doesn't go out with water and doesn't move. It just burns, took me a good five minutes to get up to Madam Pomfrey. She did what she could, but it's not the same." He shrugged.
"Who?" I asked, kind of out of the loop with the characters in this twisted and confusing story.
"The school nurse, pretty much like a healer but pretty much able to handle absolutely any injury."
"I'm so sorry, who did you do to deserve it?"
"Oh Mr. Watson even I don't know, and I doubt Anderson and Sally do either. I was just the school freak, too smart for my own good and people must have seen that like a bull's eye on my forehead." Sherlock shrugged. No I really didn't know what to do after that. It felt like a moment for a hug, but obviously I wasn't going to walk all the way over there for a five second session of awkwardness.
"Well then maybe you do need a good curse." I deiced. "When was this?"
"Third year."
"And you got expelled..."
"Sixth year."
"Oh ya. Nothing to do with this book though, right?" I asked nervously.
"No Mr. Watson, it was just a big misunderstanding and a loss of temper." He shrugged as if it was no big deal.
"I'll take your word for it." I decided, eyeing him suspiciously to see if he was lying. I sort of had this desire to be back in the potions room, with his homemade records playing, twirling around the empty floor with this tortured genius.
"Sort of have to I suppose." He pointed out, cracking a sarcastic smile at me that made my heart tingle. What was it with his stupid smiles and this bloody heart of mine? It was like every time he so much as looked at me it was like I've run a mile. I looked over his shoulder at the window far off, the sunlight starting to disappear.
"Are the windows underwater?" I asked curiously.
"Under the lake, yes." Sherlock agreed, not bothering to look over his shoulder. He probably knows this whole place by heart anyway, and it's not like there's anyone around to mess things up. "This used to be a dungeon actually, before the castle was actually a school. I don't know whose genius idea it was to give us Slytherins a dungeon common room, but I guess it just adds to the décor."
"That's a little bit harsh ya." I agreed.
"Well at least we get to be prisoners in style." He shrugged, gesturing around the room.
"Yes it's very nice in here. Are all the common rooms this, classy?" I asked, struggling to find the right word to describe the scenery in here.
"No, I don't think so. It's quite a shame though, I've never been in the Gryffindor common room, got a bloody password of course. I obviously broke into Ravenclaw, only a trivia question won't stop me, the Hufflepuff one just let me in after I said please, but the Fat Lady won't budge." He sighed.
"The who?" I asked, trying to figure out who this fat lady is and why she deserved that nickname.
"She's the portrait that protects the common room, it's the name even Dumbledore, the headmaster, uses."
"Dumbledore is a stupid name." I decided.
"Even though we never got along very well I must admit that he is a true genius. Although I don't quite think he's the saint everyone makes him out to be." Sherlock sighed with a half-smile. He leaned his head on his hand, his long fingers surrounding his face almost like a picture frame and running slightly through his hair. I was envious.
"Should I go try to crack this code?" I asked.
"Oh it's impossible, it took me weeks but she wouldn't let me in even if, by some miracle, I had guessed the bloody code."
"Well maybe she needs to see a new face then." I decided.
"I doubt she'll let you in, she's very well aware that there we are all alone here. Unfortunately paintings can exist anywhere they want, so I got all the people whether I wanted them or not. They're like annoying neighbors." Sherlock decided with a little smile. I got to my feet, stretching my legs a little bit from sitting so long.
"Let's go check out this fat lady then shall we?" I asked, this time it was I who held out my arm for him to take. Sherlock's face cracked into a smile, a smile that made it almost impossible not to smile back. He stood, hooking elbows with me and letting me lead the way, as if I was playing the role of the gentleman. Unfortunately I had no idea where to go, there was no visible door anywhere, and after looking around the room for a moment I sighed.
"Sorry to ask, but where's the door?" I asked in a small, embarrassed voice. Nice going John. But Sherlock just laughed, a sound that made the sun shine and the flowers grow.
"That wall, over there." He said simply, not adding how to actually get out. As I approached it all I saw was a blank, stone wall. There was no visible door handle except a whole bunch of ivy growing around, so I stood there for a moment, hoping he'd help me through this one. Did you have to have magic or something?
"How?" I asked again.
"I'll let you figure this one out yourself." He decided with a smile.
"Oh...yay." I muttered halfheartedly. It may shock him, but I had no bloody clue what I was even doing. Reluctantly, with my free hand, I knocked a couple of times on the stone, but it wasn't hallow or anything. In fact it scraped up my knuckles, making me even more aggravated. I searched around in the ivy, pulled on it a couple of times to see if there was a lever or something, but no luck. I didn't see a handle or even hinges anywhere.
"Okay, I'm sorry but I have no idea." I decided. Sherlock just smiled, letting go of my arm and pushing on the wall with a little bit of force. And then, just like that, it swung open, letting us into the torch lit hallway. I opened my mouth to protest, that wasn't possible, but I decided to give up before I started debated. Of course it wasn't possible it was a magical castle with talking paintings, why wouldn't there be walls that swing open? He stepped out into the hall dramatically, as if trying to rub it in that I wasn't able to figure that out.
"Well I guess that's convenient." I groaned, following him out into the hall.
"Shall you lead us?" he asked with a smirk.
"Ha-ha, now I know you're joking!" I said sarcastically.
"You took the tour, I'm sure you must know something about this place." Sherlock pointed out. I briefly remember him pointing out the common rooms to me, but I haven't the faintest where they were.
"Oh come on, I don't know where the nearest bathroom is!" I pointed out.
"Well I don't expect you to know that, I don't think those were on our tour." He decided. I couldn't help but smile at how bloody annoying he was, but annoying in a charming way. The type of pestering that could be taken as flirting if you didn't know each other well enough.
"Well then, on we go." I decided in a huff, starting to walk down the hall.