What are you looking at? || Rose & OPEN

badrose-tylerwolf:

There’s a time in every girls’ life when she has to go to the Library, it is not only crutial but also an obligation. If Rose wanted to pass her fourth grade, she was gonna have to work extra for her average grades. She took with her to the Library her worn out books and parchment. Making a bit of a ruckus as she walked and slightly ran across the bookcases and onto the nearest table. Settling in and opening a few books, she eagerly looked inside at the pages and… Nothing. She tried clearing her mind, but it was booming with different thoughts, different places, the things she wanted to do instead of being locked there. She leaned on the table, half falling asleep as she read the book. Until finally she decided to change books, and thus she ran towards another bookshelf and took another book of a different subject. Her favorite, Transfiguration. But as soon as she sat down she thought everything else in the room was fascinating, the paintings, the students and there she was staring into a particular student who caught her eye.

Sherlock had been staring at the girl for a good ten minutes now. Glaring was actually a more apt word to describe it. He usually avoided the library simply because too many people used the space. It wasn’t his, it changed to often when he wasn’t looking, and overall Sherlock found it generally more distracting than productive to deep thought. But school work was school work, and occasionally required research.

Research he could not do with this distracting, noisy blonde girl running about. Had she simply sat down and read Sherlock would have been able to tune her out, but no, she had to move around, had to flip pages far to slow to actually be absorbing anything was reading. Her presence was like someone was shining a mirror in his eye. When she finally looked up, Sherlock’s glare became all the icier and in a low voice he said, “You’re thinking too loudly. It’s annoying.”

Drowned world // Sherlock and Eleven

marauderoftime:

youreawizardsherlock:

Sherlock shot the other a glare that lasted only as long as Gaiana was looking away. A shipwright? Really? Anyone with half a brain could look at Sherlock’s fine boned hands and see they were not used to a carpenter’s labor. Lucky for the both of them, this girl didn’t seem to be in possession of half a brain otherwise she wouldn’t have been nearly so obvious about her own comings and goings.

"Why musn’t we?" Sherlock asked, quick as a whip, "Because of the unease between your two kingdoms? Certainly you must have politically advantageous suitors, perhaps even a betrothed lying around somewhere. Your father isn’t pleased with you having a mer-boyfriend on the side?"

There was very little about royalty that Sherlock knew, but he did understand how politics worked. So-and-so from some kingdom married some prince or princess from another to get more land and titles and blah blah blah. It was dull but obvious. And even he knew that being married for love was a relatively new thing in civilization’s history. No doubt there was an arranged marriage on one side of this scenario.

"He must be brand new then - no callouses to speak of." Gaiana motioned to Sherlock’s hands, narrowing her eyes a bit as Sherlock went on to ask her about her affairs.

"My my, Mister Sherlock - you are far too intelligent to be a ship wright’s apprentice." Her tone, normally melodic, turned a bit more solid as she addressed the Ravenclaw. Eleven’s eyes widened just a hair, but he didn’t interfere - instead keeping his brain working through more (hopefully better) lies in case they needed to talk their way out of the Princess’s disapproval.

"People like you," Gaiana continued, her forest green eyes turning to Sherlock’s, "….are considered extremely dangerous in this sort of situation. I’m very sure that I do not know you, and that you do not know me, but you’ve very much hit the nail on the head. I daresay you would make an incredibly successful nobleman."

Eleven cleared his throat nervously, watching the both of them very closely and noting the fact that there were at least two guards at each other three entrances/exits to these gardens. At the same time, right beneath his breastbone was that familiar zing of something significant happening - something that didn’t happen every day. Not that he ran into princesses every day, but…well. 

Sherlock’s face stayed impassive under the weight of the princess’ scrutiny. She either thought he was a spy of some sort or was considering using his intelligence on her own behalf. Neither of those had any foothold in reality, as Sherlock did not intend to stay in this sinking city for all that long. Not at this point in history in any event.

"Would I?" He asked blithely, "They always said I was smart for a ship wright. But then again, most of the other apprentices can’t tell a rabbet from a ribband." Sherlock smiled chipperly at her, like he had no reason to worry about anything Her Royal Highness might think of him. For a split second his eyes flashed a look to Eleven, silently saying 'You are so lucky.’

"So what do you want a clock maker to do?" He asked her, fixing his laser focus again, "Mer-people have their own way of telling time. And that doesn’t solve your problem." Sherlock likely was being impudent towards a woman who was supposed to be his sovereign, but groveling was beneath him.

Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better | Sherlock and Tony

yoitstonystark:

youreawizardsherlock:

Sherlock rolled over onto his stomach and let his arm hang down over the side of the couch. “It’s actually rather easy to not become your parents. You don’t become your parents. Your father- drinking problems, neglect, no physical abuse but loads of the emotional kind. Not as bad as you could have had, but I’m sure you’re properly screwed up.” Sherlock himself was an excellent example of being nothing like his father, but he despised the man so it wasn’t exactly hard.

"Yeah, I suppose you’re right. Surprise, surprise, right? You seem properly screwed up yourself, good think you’re smart huh?" Tony said sarcastically though the kid did have a point, he wouldn’t deny it. He honestly felt like he could never really be his father, if he thought about it. His father did amazing things and he felt he’d always never be good enough. He knew he’d be working with him a lot over summer and he was looking forward to it, maybe because he’d have to spend time with him but then again it most likely wouldn’t end up like he wanted it to. One thing was certain, he got sucked into his work just like his father did. "But, uhm, was nice talking to you, you made my break a lot more interesting than usual. I’m sure I’ll see you around." With that he gave a quick wave before heading back to his room. 

Sherlock grunted in acknowledgement and flicked some fingers at Tony in a vague wave. “If you ever want to experiment with dangerous potions again, let me know,” Sherlock singsonged. He was most likely going to sit here in the common room, alone, for a long wile longer. There were things to think about.

Holmes Squared plus Watson || Sherlock, Mycroft and John

john-hufflepuff-watson:

magic-is-an-advantage:

Mycroft indeed stayed out of the room for a little longer, once he heard his mother sigh loudly. She obviously wanted to talk to Sherlock and John and she did most likely already know that her youngest son’s temper had been enormously affected by the elder himself. And as usual, it would be Mycroft who should expect a talk with their mother for his behaviour and he really did not have the nerve for that just now. So, he stayed in the hallway, crossing his arms over his chest.

Meanwhile, Mrs Holmes had closed her book, looking up at Sherlock when he entered the room, immediately taking in the situation. “Yes, Sherlock.” She answered and sighed, straightening further up. “I wanted you to tell me what kind of plans you had for the rest of the day and the evening. I would like you and John to join me and Mycroft for dinner.”

John didn’t really think that he had any room to say whether or not the two of them were going to be attending dinner or not. It was more than likely, given that the two minors couldn’t go very far on their own to obtain food but the Hufflepuff still felt like a Holmes should be the one to agree to plans in the Holmes home. John gave Sherlock a smile smile, hoping to encourage the younger boy into the right answer, which was respond in kindly that of course Sherlock would be joining his mother for dinner.

John’s smile could be seen in the periphery of Sherlock’s vision, but his mood was too black to care. “I’m not hungry,” he intoned. The pastry he’d eaten had turned to lead in his stomach, making Sherlock feel too heavy and dense. The thought of further food, and further interaction with his brother, was the last thing he wanted. “I’m going to go to my room, and John’s coming with me. John may decide he wants dinner.” Sherlock was an excellent actor, but even he couldn’t disguise just how frustrated and furious he was. It bled through in the shortness of his replies.

In The Doghouse | Sherlock & John (& Mary if you’re up for it)

john-hufflepuff-watson:

youreawizardsherlock:

With his back to John, Sherlock could still feel the heat of John’s gaze on him. “‘E’s lookin’ at you,” Billy said quietly, not being at all as sneaky as he thought as he snuck glances at the Hufflepuff.

"I know," Sherlock remarked. "he’s thinking about whether to apologize." Hopefully Billy wouldn’t ask if John would, because Sherlock honestly did not know. He knew that John would apologize eventually, but whether or not he would do it now Sherlock could not predict.

John rolled his shoulders back and with the turn of his heel, stomped over to the punch bowl and away from the dance floor. He honestly didn’t care who he interacted with as long as it wasn’t Sherlock he’d be just fine by that.

Sherlock couldn’t see him, but he was listening very carefully and studying Billy’s face. The older boy squinted and pulled a face that Sherlock easily deduced. “He’s walking away,” Sherlock stated like he didn’t care. He did, but that wasn’t the point of this. He wanted John mad, so this was good. Billy nodded and shuffled along to the music, his feet hitting Sherlock’s. The feminized boy glared at him and halted their movement. “I will lead if you can’t at least dance competently.”

Marvellous Minds | Charles & Sherlock

wizardrythroughmutation:

youreawizardsherlock:

Truly all it really took to remove the tension from Sherlock’s figure was to compliment his mind. The frailty of genius, he’d called it, and perhaps Sherlock was extra frail in that sense as an appreciative audience, especially one capable of fully understanding just what they were looking at, could butter him up in all the worst ways. Sherlock’s face relaxed as he listened to Charles continue, and immediately his mind was untangling the topic. “How do you intend to study DNA at that level of detail without access to a stronger microscope or gene sequencing technology? Hogwarts doesn’t even have a toaster, let alone a centrifuge.” Sherlock had studied magical theory in order to fulfill his curiosity over how magic worked, but he had yet to question what made wizards different with any great detail. It had always been a thing he’d written off as being a constant. Wizards were, so how wasn’t really that important.

Thrilled that Sherlock had taken to the subject change, Charles smiled, nodding along with Sherlock’s questioning. “I have a friend that has the equipment required at hand. I wouldn’t be overstating things if I said that he would be kind enough to share his knowledge in how to work the equipment –– that or share it.” Charles explained, “A vast majority of my work has been done at home in Westchester but I have every intention of continuing it here in Hogwarts. Are you familiar with Tony Stark? He has the means to continue the research and I fully intend on utilising his abilities and equipment.” Charles was more than aware of Hogwarts vast lack of electricity. It was completely absurd –– muggles could live with electricity but Wizards, those who were genetically more advanced were still living by candle light. That in itself had always fascinated Charles.

"Stark," Sherlock nodded, "Yes, I know him. He’s the most muggle wizard I think I’ve ever met." It would make sense for Tony to develop scientific equipment that met modern standards but still worked at Hogwarts. The older boy’s obvious yearning to return to a muggle life gave him excellent motivation. "If he can design the mechanisms I’d be interested in seeing how that worked. In my second year I tested whether the problem was simply a lack of an electrical source, and it appears that the magic of the castle itself interferes with the workings of electronics."

This isn’t what it looks like | Sherlock and Irene

thescandalofslytherin:

youreawizardsherlock:

That didn’t make any sense either. When Sherlock had first looked at her he hadn’t been able to peg anything about her. She was an observational Bermuda Triangle, and it was really beginning to upset him now. When he spoke, Sherlock’s voice was slow and deliberate. “Then I’d say you were wasting your time,” he tried to make himself dislodge her hand from his hair, but it felt too nice.

"I’m wasting my time?" Irene asked, dropping her hand from his hair. She studied his face for a moment. "Aw, don’t get grumpy on me, sweetheart. There’s nothing wrong with me showing a little affection. Here," Irene leaned in, planting a soft kiss on his neck. "Feel better?" She grinned, her hand finding its place in his hair again. Now she was just teasing him, but it was all in good fun.              

"What are you doing?" He asked again, this time more out of shock than genuine curiosity. She’d just kissed him, and Sherlock wasn’t sure how to feel about that. He was sure he currently felt uncomfortable. In a rather undignified way he wriggled free from her grasp and tried (mostly failed) to recompose himself. “I don’t need your affection, I just need your photograph. And oh! That’s right! I already have it.” Sherlock made a hand gesture that seemed vaguely final and made for the door.

Drowned world // Sherlock and Eleven

marauderoftime:

youreawizardsherlock:

To Sherlock, a large seemingly impenetrable gate wasn’t a deterrent so much as a challenge. He started scanning for a method in - a moment when a guard wasn’t looking, a place where a foothold could be gotten to vault over the wall. In one moment he had five different strategies worked out, but then the gates opened on their own and made it pointless.

The Princess, up close, had several very interesting tells. Primarily Sherlock noticed the wetness of her hair. The rest of her was completely dry, but considering the early time of the morning Sherlock would bet she’d been submerged at some point early this morning. He doubted it was a bath - at this point in history, not even royalty bathed that often. The smell alone told Sherlock that. Princess Gaiana smelled like the sea, though that could be explained easily by the sinking city around them.

Sherlock thought otherwise.

They walked into the gardens, away from the public and the guards and into a world of green. The part of Sherlock that had cataloged every native plant growing in and around Hogwarts castle was intrigued, and he made a mental note to look around while Eleven was busy lying to the princess. Once they were out of earshot Sherlock spoke up. “Does this have anything to do with your rendezvous with the merpeople this morning?”

Eleven had noticed the fact that her hair was soaking, and the smell of salt on her skin. This was looking more and more and more like it was going in a direction that he wasn’t entirely prepared to deal with. It seemed, however, that Sherlock reached a conclusion before he did.

The Princess blinked at Sherlock, looking surprised, before her eyes flitted back to Eleven, and he cleared his throat gently. “Princess Gaiana, this is one of my friends - his name is Sherlock Holmes and he’s…” what does he do? “….a ship wright’s apprentice.” It was the first thing that came to his mind, and he gave Sherlock a bit of a pointed apologetic look, hoping that he might at least be polite.

Gaiana’s eyes lit up as she turned back to Sherlock, looking more than pleased with the information. “Oh a ship wright! A ship! That’s about what I need right now…perhaps the both of you can help me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sherlock, and yes, I did meet up with the merpeople this morning, but please…you musn’t mention it to anyone.”

Sherlock shot the other a glare that lasted only as long as Gaiana was looking away. A shipwright? Really? Anyone with half a brain could look at Sherlock’s fine boned hands and see they were not used to a carpenter’s labor. Lucky for the both of them, this girl didn’t seem to be in possession of half a brain otherwise she wouldn’t have been nearly so obvious about her own comings and goings.

"Why musn’t we?" Sherlock asked, quick as a whip, "Because of the unease between your two kingdoms? Certainly you must have politically advantageous suitors, perhaps even a betrothed lying around somewhere. Your father isn’t pleased with you having a mer-boyfriend on the side?"

There was very little about royalty that Sherlock knew, but he did understand how politics worked. So-and-so from some kingdom married some prince or princess from another to get more land and titles and blah blah blah. It was dull but obvious. And even he knew that being married for love was a relatively new thing in civilization’s history. No doubt there was an arranged marriage on one side of this scenario.

This isn’t what it looks like | Sherlock and Irene

thescandalofslytherin:

youreawizardsherlock:

His brows pushed together as he looked down on her. Irene was much closer than almost anyone got. His first thought was that she was getting closer in order to slyly steal the photograph from him, but Sherlock subtly ensured it was safely in its proper place. Then he began to observe. “You’re trying to trick me,” somehow he added mentally. The closeness reminded him of John, but nothing else about the situation did. Sherlock’s arrogance prevented him from saying anything without complete confidence. “You’re flirting in order to distract me.”

"Well done, Mr. Holmes." She grinned, pulling her head away. "But, what if I’m not flirting with you as a distraction…what if I’m doing it simply because I want too?" Irene’s hand slipped from around his neck letting her fingers run through the dark curls of his hair. "What would you say to that, hm?"  She had to get Sherlock to that sweet enough spot to get her photo back. After this was done, she knew she needed to upgrade from  photos. Maybe even go a little high tech.

That didn’t make any sense either. When Sherlock had first looked at her he hadn’t been able to peg anything about her. She was an observational Bermuda Triangle, and it was really beginning to upset him now. When he spoke, Sherlock’s voice was slow and deliberate. “Then I’d say you were wasting your time,” he tried to make himself dislodge her hand from his hair, but it felt too nice.

One Prefect Per Holmes Brother, Please. || John, Sherlock, Mycroft, and Greg

magic-is-an-advantage:

john-hufflepuff-watson:

burgundy-lion:

"Oh, definitely." Greg said, squeezing Mycroft’s hand gently. He glanced at the flowers and then smiled at the fact that he couldn’t see Sherlock’s face anymore, but he had only wished there was a mute button for the younger boy. "I’m so glad I’m finally getting a chance too meet you, Mrs. Holmes. I’ve been bugging Mycroft about meeting you." He said, smiling back at the woman, actually feeling rather comfortable now at this point.

This was starting to feel better, at least for the majority of the group. Sherlock was practically bristling like an angry cat every time Mycroft or Greg opened their mouths to speak but John shrugged it off—there was going to be plenty of time for the younger boy to decompress and complain about the other couple so the Hufflepuff took to sitting back and monitoring his boyfriend’s behavior. His ears did perk up at the mention of a Christmas Party. “You had a party here at Christmas?” John murmured to Sherlock as he lifted a cup of tea to his lips.

Mycroft listened to the participants of the conversation with a slightly bored expression, the only thing keeping him from intervening and bringing something in being Greg next to him. His boyfriend was visibly and palpably more relaxed at this point and it would do no good to just change the topic or start off another fight with his obviously angry brother. Yet, when John spoke, Mycroft could no longer hold on to himself, an amused and surprised expression building on his features.

"Oh my … he did not tell you about Mummy’s Christmas party now, did he?" He asked in a very content voice, smiling ever so smugly. "John, we do have it every year. It equals more of a ball than a party. And Sherlock does certainly know about it. Any reason as to why you have not told John about it, brother mine?"

If one could ignite fires with their mind alone, the flowers between them would have been burnt to ash by the heat of Sherlock’s stare. He’d stiffened as soon as John spoke, hearing a note of displeasure in his boyfriend’s voice. And of course, Mycroft had to take that note and write a whole displeasure symphony. “You wouldn’t have been able to make it anyway,” Sherlock said, his gaze still fixed to the blasted vase. “John was busy over Christmas, so I saw no need to invite him to a party he couldn’t attend anyway.” He remembered John saying he had some plans around Christmas - probably something with his family. A vacation perhaps? Sherlock hadn’t actually been listening at the time, he’d been absorbed in comparing fiber samples from various uniform jumpers he’d collected.

© theme