Keeping Things Alive 101 | Sherlock & Greg

burgundy-lion:

youreawizardsherlock:

Sherlock looked from Lestrade to the worm and back, his expression just as bored as before. “I don’t believe Care of Magical Creatures is all that vital to a perspective auror. Potions yes, charms, transfiguration - but this class doesn’t have much application to that sort of career path.”

 Greg stopped ready and met eyes with Sherlock briefly. “What makes you think I want to become an auror?” He asked, glancing back to the book. “All classes are important, even the… pointless ones.” He sighed as he continued flicking through the book, still not finding what he was looking for. Frustrated, he just closed the book and pushed it away, crossing his arms. “And who knows, I might want to have a career that involves.. caring for Magical Creatures?” 

He hummed thoughtfully, as if considering it, “Unlikely. You’re a prefect already, and you’ve got a parent-pleasing complex. Besides, you’re dating my oh-so-respectible brother who’s been plotting for a ministry job ever since he knew the ministry existed. No doubt you’ll try for a sport career, but that won’t last.” It was abundantly clear what Lestrade would peruse as a profession, at least to Sherlock.

Anonymous asked
Will you be attending the dance Sherlock?

Mm, probably. John and I have a sort of…

…understanding about school events. An unspoken agreement.

Holmes Squared plus Watson || Sherlock, Mycroft and John

john-hufflepuff-watson:

magic-is-an-advantage:

"Leave you alone and leave you to all the stupidity that comes to your mind way more often than it should do?" Mycroft asked coldly and glared over at Sherlock, his anger being not as hot as his brother’s but cool and controlled - as it usually was. "And actually, I do not think you are an idiot. I have noticed that you are the second smartest person I know. Yet, you do not act on that intellect of yours, which is why I try to help you. And I do not control you, Sherlock Holmes. You merely think like this as you constantly act like an unmannerly child. And what was I supposed to do?! Leave you to Father? Do you think he would have raised you in a better fashion? Or Mummy? She could hardly struggle through everything without our help, leave alone take care of anything, Sherlock! She was in no state of dealing with you. And John, this memory can never be wiped away. You see which conflict exists and you also see that my dear brother will always hate me, no matter what I do for him. You could say he was an ungrateful little prat. And yet, I will not give him up."

John cleared his throat nervously as he found himself in the middle of the argument, both literally and metaphorically. The brothers shouting and hissing at each other from either side of the Hufflepuff was uncomfortable to say the least but there was a silver lining to this whole car ride.

"Ah!" The blonde boy shifted in his seat, leaning forward, "Here we are, back home safe and sound." The familiar gates to the Holmes estate came into view and John let out an internal sigh of relief. Though they were forced to be in the same house for the next few days, the tension in there would be nothing compared to what had just happened in the car.

As soon as the car had stopped Sherlock was out the door, leaving John behind him in his bid to get out of his brother’s presence. This was why he hated being home, hated being around his brother for long periods of time. They only fought and drove each other insane. The driver had gotten out of the car already and was giving Sherlock an interest look, not that he cared. Sherlock was single-mindedly focused on getting into the house and to his room, somewhere he could lock the door and have at least the illusion of privacy from his family.

A Very Johnlock Halloween | Jawn & Sherlawk

john-hufflepuff-watson:

youreawizardsherlock:

"Yes we were." Sherlock’s arm came around John’s waist once more and he started up their sway again. Whoever said that Sherlock was the theatrical one of the two of them had never seen John like this. When it suited him the Hufflepuff could be just as dramatic as Sherlock himself. Well, almost. "Tell me, how long did you practice bowing like that in front of the mirror?" Sherlock teased.

John couldn’t help the prickling of a blush around his cheeks and ears. “Not too long,” Lie. “I only had to do it a few times until I found myself up to standards suitable for Sir.”

It was an understatement to say that the two of them were the most graceful on the dance floor. Everyone was either stumbling through the dance steps drunkenly or because they didn’t have the skills. John caught a couple out of the corner of his eye trying to keep up with their elegant steps but John found himself smirking as the faltered through the next few steps and turns. “How long did it take you to make that costume?” The Hufflepuff inquired. 

"Liar," Sherlock said affectionately. He turned them both in a graceful move, leading John around with pleasure. the two of them dancing was definitely an experience Sherlock planned to repeat often. Perhaps he could get the Hufflepuff to learn the tango…

"Five minutes," he replied, "I used magic after all. It was just a matter of finding the right spell to alter some clothing. I used some of Mycrofts." Sherlock oozed smugness as he told this to John. The act of sneaking into his brother’s dorm to secure the clothing and finding the proper book in the library took considerably more than five minutes, but Sherlock hadn’t factored that into the ‘making’ time. "He’s too big to fit into them anymore anyway."

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

john-hufflepuff-watson:

magic-is-an-advantage:

"Mummy will not be impatient and Sherlock is so, anyway." Mycroft said and sighed, standing up as well. Carefully, he straightened his suit and combed his fingers through his hair before he moved over to Greg, taking his hand softly. "And I keep the lipstick because you like it, love. And I care for you." He said and squeezed Greg’s hand, pecking his cheek quickly. "Let us go downstairs." He murmured and then, led Greg out of the room and down the stairs, eventually stopping in front of a door. "Ready to meet my dear Mama, Gregory?" He asked and smiled reassuringly at his boyfriend, before pushing the door open, smiling politely at his mother. "Good evening, Mummy. I hope you are doing well? May I introduce Gregory Lestrade? He is my dear and beloved boyfriend."
The title of ‘dear and beloved’ coming out of Mycroft’s mouth sounded horribly strange which earned a curious shift of the eyes back at Sherlock. John couldn’t believe that the Mycroft he’d met could have any sort of capacity of referring to anyone in that way but the Hufflepuff kicked himself mentally, realizing that so many others had said the same thing about Sherlock.
Pushing all of his thoughts aside, John gave his fellow prefect a small wave with his free hand.

Sherlock snorted at his brother’s florid phraseology and leaned back into his chair. Mrs. Holmes simply smiled pleasantly at the two of them and gestured for both the older boys to sit down. “Lovely to meat you, Gregory,” the older woman said. She gestured to the tea service on the table and picked up her own cup.

The youngest Holmes turned his gaze on his older brother and read the last few minutes on his and Lestrade’s clothing. “Lestrade all settled in?” Sherlock said suggestively. He let go of John’s hand in order to pour himself a cup .

Keeping Things Alive 101 | Sherlock & Greg

burgundy-lion:

youreawizardsherlock:

Not caring about getting his hands dirty, Sherlock reached forward and tipped the little creature on its side. The worm twitched, and started squirming in place before rolling back to its proper orientation. “It’s fine. Though how you tell the difference between a live flobberworm and a dead one is fairly arbitrary in my opinion.”

"You’re right. The only way we actually know it’s alive is when it’s eating and creating mucus." Greg said, and reached for their class textbook, flipping through it. "I just don’t want it to die on my watch. I actually need to do well on this project to successfully complete the class." He mumbled, flipping pages still.

Sherlock looked from Lestrade to the worm and back, his expression just as bored as before. “I don’t believe Care of Magical Creatures is all that vital to a perspective auror. Potions yes, charms, transfiguration - but this class doesn’t have much application to that sort of career path.”

Drowned world // Sherlock and Eleven

marauderoftime:

youreawizardsherlock:

Wherever Atlantis used to be it certainly wasn’t there now. Sherlock did his best to decipher his classmate’s babble but there were definitely elements of his thought process missing. Luckily for Sherlock he was fairly certain he was less confused than Eleven.

He had said he’d been to Atlantis at some point, and couldn’t remember where it was. Even a moving island couldn’t go unnoticed for so long without magical intervention, and yet Eleven had found it on accident. That was one issue, but the one Sherlock was fixated on was the time issue.

"If you’re considering the possibility of it having used to be in the place you believe it is and sticking to your tale of having visited it in the company of pirates, you’re either delusional, a liar, or capable of the sort of time travel necessary to rectify that paradox. My money’s on delusional.”

Eleven cast a grin at him over his shoulder. “Oh I think you’d come out about even on that sort of bet. Teensy bit delusional, teensy bit time traveler…but who’s to say, really? Would you even believe the words of a delusional classmate?”

As he had been walking, he had paused in a particular area, his hands out in front of him, moving about as if he was feeling for something he couldn’t see. Eleven gave a sort of a grumble, his brows furrowing as he waved his hands back and forth. 

"Dammit Ten…if you’ve moved it again…how could have moved it though? I only just came from here…ugh…time machines, never around when you need — "

His hands struck something, seeming to come against something solid, but there was nothing there. Nothing but the sun through the trees and sounds of the forbidden forest. 

"Ahhh there you are you beautiful thing you."

Had Eleven been a muggle, Sherlock would have written him up as insane and simply abandoned him in the forest. However wizards could get up to all sorts of weird things, and ‘insanity’ in that community was referred to as ‘eccentricity’. 

Sherlock looked at the area Eleven was attempting to feel for and considered the various mime techniques that he himself knew that could be accounting for it. Then he looked down at the ground, and saw the slight indent on the leaves below their feet. It looked like something square, approximately one and a half by one and a half meters in dimension, was sitting on the layer of dead leaves above the dirt. “I’d ask you to prove it,” Sherlock stepped forward and reached out as well, his fingers connecting with the feeling of wood exactly where he expected them to, “but I have a feeling you’re about to.” 

Keeping Things Alive 101 | Sherlock & Greg

burgundy-lion:

youreawizardsherlock:

"What he’s trying to do doesn’t matter.” Sherlock knew better than most that intentions had little relevance to real world actions. Mycroft was a controlling narcissist, and when this was pointed out to him he did nothing to change his behavior. “What’s that phrase; the road to hell is paved with good intentions? I’m sure he’s told you all about the ‘good’” Sherlock put air quotes around the word, his face the picture of sarcasm, “things he’s done over the years, but Mycroft tends to leave out details he doesn’t find relevant.” 

"Well, no one wants to talk about their past failures." Greg said, and then slumped down into his seat, grabbing the lettuce to rip up before class ended. "I’m pretty sure you don’t like to talk about your failures, and don’t tell em that you don’t have any." He smiled, and then looked at the worm. Looking at it briefly, he noticed that it wasn’t moving nor making mucus. "Um, did it fall asleep?"

Not caring about getting his hands dirty, Sherlock reached forward and tipped the little creature on its side. The worm twitched, and started squirming in place before rolling back to its proper orientation. “It’s fine. Though how you tell the difference between a live flobberworm and a dead one is fairly arbitrary in my opinion.”

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

yoitstonystark:

youreawizardsherlock:

Just what made him ‘look like the sort’ Sherlock wasn’t sure. He furrowed his brows and took stock of himself mentally to figure out just what it was. Probably nothing subtle, Tony wouldn’t notice it if it was. “Have much experience in it, do you?” Sherlock had a suspicion that he was thinking of potions, and he knew first hand that having knowledge or skill in one medium didn’t necessarily mean having it in the other.

"Well, It isn’t my best subject but I’m pretty sufficient in it. Every now and then I dabble in it at home I guess." Tony shrugged, thinking about all the times he messed around a little too much in the labs. "I do prefer building things though…engineering is what I’m best at…I’m a big tech and physics junkie I guess." Was a reason why school so far from his lab wasn’t always the funnest. He was excited to get home over break, to start completing past project and creating new ones. 

"Interesting choice for a wizard," Sherlock remarked. The common room was just as empty as it had been when they left. This was a bit surprising - usually the common room was full of people chatting and studying. It wasn’t like there were desks in the dorm rooms. "Not much market for machines in the community."

Keeping Things Alive 101 | Sherlock & Greg

burgundy-lion:

youreawizardsherlock:

Sherlock gave the older boy a flat look. “Oh, of course, because you know Mycroft best. I only grew up with him, lived in the same isolated house with him for my entire life, and have a perceptive capacity that makes you look like a blind man with nerve damage. You’ve been buggering him for - what, four months now? So obviously you’re the expert.”

"Nine months in two weeks, actually." Greg corrected him, tossing more leaves in the worms’ direction. "I’m not saying I know him better than you do. As an older sibling myself, I know that he only does what he thinks is best for you. He’s only trying to do good, Sherlock.” He said, looking back at the younger boy. 

"What he’s trying to do doesn’t matter.” Sherlock knew better than most that intentions had little relevance to real world actions. Mycroft was a controlling narcissist, and when this was pointed out to him he did nothing to change his behavior. “What’s that phrase; the road to hell is paved with good intentions? I’m sure he’s told you all about the ‘good’” Sherlock put air quotes around the word, his face the picture of sarcasm, “things he’s done over the years, but Mycroft tends to leave out details he doesn’t find relevant.” 

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