Surface Thoughts || Charles & Open

wizardxavier:

wizardxavier:

As usual, the common room was pretty busy around this time of day. Classes had ended, it was officially time for homework, chatting, and just general hanging about. Charles sat in the Ravenclaw common room, on a couch in the corner by the fire place, leaning against the arm of…

Charles raised an eyebrow at the other boy, recognizing him now. It was Sherlock Homes, one of his fellow Ravenclaws. He had never formally met him, however he did know this particular boy was brilliant. Nothing ever slipped by him.
"I wasn’t listing to anybody" Charles responded honestly, he assumed the other boy was simply referring to listening to conversations between others. But he had been trying to block people out rather than focus on them. He wondered if Sherlock knew about his.. abilities… He doubted it, however Sherlock wasn’t your ordinary boy. He supposed it was easiest to play simple as he always did when faced with a situation like this, assume nobody knows until it is proven they do.

Charles smiled “Why do you assume I am ease dropping on others?”

His grey eyes narrowed, and Sherlock steepled his fingers in front of his face and looked at Charles critically. “Are you going to tell me that you were simply sitting here all this time lost in thought?” he asked. It was clear from his tone that Sherlock wouldn’t believe that. Charles had been focusing hard on something, but it hadn’t been the dull conversations of their fellow students.

"Let me rephrase," Sherlock said smoothly, "Who’s brain were you trying to pick?" The ‘k’ was aspirated jovially, but accompanied with the judgmental tilt of his head Sherlock made it clear how serious he was taking this conversation.

Drowned world // Sherlock and Eleven

marauderoftime:

youreawizardsherlock:

The resistance she put up was weakening, and Sherlock felt ropes worming between them. He pushed himself off roughly as to not be accidentally caught up, and finally caught his breath. Sherlock was athletic, but he still needed a break after running across half a city and then wrestling with someone on the ground. She’d been strong, obviously well trained, and professional. But they’d caught her now.

The dark haired boy stood from the street and shook the dust out of his hair. The woman bound at their feet was shooting positively murderous looks at him and Eleven. “We’re not done yet,” Sherlock said as he looked subtly around them. “We have to get her off of the street. Look’s like we’ve become the latest attraction.” A crowd had gathered in a circle around them. Atlantians pulled from their revelry by the fighting and staring openly.

"Official royal business," Sherlock called to them confidently. He hoped that would be enough to deter them from interfering. "Please return to Her Highness’ birthday celebrations."

Eleven blinked as he looked up to find many people circled around them, staring in awe. “Yes! Nothing to see here….just please return to the festivities - I hear the King has many glorious things planned for you and his beloved daughter.” It took a few moments, but when the crowd saw that no more information about the matter was to be divulged, they began to filter away, leaving the three of them alone on the alley. 

"Alright. So. You." He pointed his wand at the woman. "Let me guess - Spying on the Princess in order to bring down her reign? I’m a bit surprised - I would have figured that they would send more than just a single spy." Eleven glanced up to the rooftops, as if half expecting someone to come flying about on top of them.

The woman grinned, perhaps a bit maniacally, and when Eleven’s blue eyes met her’s, he raised an eyebrow and gave Sherlock a quizzical look. “Her reign has already fallen,” the woman answered rather cryptically. “Nobody has realized it yet. The Princess is a smart woman - she may have realized it already. I wasn’t sent to retrieve secrets or weaknesses. I was sent to make sure that everything is going as planned.” 

The fact that this woman seemed gleeful put Eleven on edge. Going as planned? What could they have planned alr —

Eleven stood bolt upright, eyes widening at Sherlock. They had never asked the Princess where she had gotten the potion to change herself in a mermaid. He had just assumed she had made it herself, but if he had stopped to think about it a bit longer, he would have remember how utterly complicated the potion was. Far beyond her own means.

"Sherlock." Eleven’s stomach flipped, and within an instant he had turned and was sprinting back in the direction of the Castle, lungs be damned. Oh he was cursing beneath whatever breath he had, feeling his heart sink. 

"Not today…please not today…" He turned round the corner and the gardens came into sight.

Sherlock realized it the second she finished speaking. A poisoning, obviously, but was the Princess stupid enough to drink it? Surly not. A sense of foreboding rose in him as Eleven panicked and started running. Clearly he didn’t believe she was. Cursing under his breath, Sherlock stunned the bound woman so she wouldn’t escape. Someone would have to come and retrieve her later; Sherlock had a feeling they weren’t going to be sticking around much longer.

As soon as she was secure Sherlock ran after him. Eleven was further down the street, desperation spurring him forward in a mad sprint. Sherlock ignored his body’s protests easily and raced after him. Taking the direct route back didn’t take too long, and the castle was rising before him before Sherlock knew it. The Ravenclaw didn’t know if she’d even be there anymore, but he hoped she was.

"Eleven!" he shouted as he picked up speed. Sherlock was gaining on him just slightly - the Gryffindor was in pretty good shape. He wanted the other to stop, to calm down and not do anything idiotic. He had a feeling he’d be compromised by what he found in the garden.

Surface Thoughts || Charles & Open

wizardxavier:

As usual, the common room was pretty busy around this time of day. Classes had ended, it was officially time for homework, chatting, and just general hanging about. Charles sat in the Ravenclaw common room, on a couch in the corner by the fire place, leaning against the arm of the couch. He rested his two fingers on his templed, and focused on the room around him. 

More particularity, Charles was trying to drown out the room around him. For as long as he could remember, Charles could hear peoples thoughts, but only their surface thoughts, or what they where thinking about at the current moment. It took him time and practice to be able to read peoples mind’s in a deeper sense, as in get a sense of their history, or anything not currently happening. This was often called legilimency in the Wizarding World, and Charles had a particular gift in it. However, he did have to focus in order to read someones mind, as you would assume, but he could always hear surface thoughts around him. Currently, Charles was practicing blocking these surface thoughts out. He was already quite good at it, otherwise he might go insane, but he could always improve.

Time passed quickly, and before Charles had noticed, almost everybody was gone from the room around him. He sat up and looked around, he was alone with the exception of two friends still working on potions essays, and another individual sitting alone on the other couch by the fire. Charles raised an eyebrow this person was staring right at him, he smiled “Can I help you?”

Sherlock Holmes always noticed everything, but that didn’t mean it all made sense to him right away. The majority of it did, thanks to his ever growing mental network of interconnections that made the logical leaps to cognitive connections without him actually trying, but when faced with something new Sherlock did actually need to think about it.

Before him was his roommate, Charles. Sitting as he occasionally did in complete silence, eyes unfocused, two fingers pressed to the side of his head as if dispelling a headache. He appeared to be deep in thought, and yet the longer Sherlock watched him the more certain he was that the other boy wasn’t. All the signs of focused thought processes were there - eye movement, lack of reaction to the goings on around him - and yet…

Sherlock watched him for a very long time, his brain trying to make sense of all his observations while he perched on the couch seat. It was only when the two of them were very nearly alone that Charles seemed to snap out of it, and it was then that Sherlock knew. “Who were you listening to?” he asked in reply to the other’s question.

At Noon There Came A Tremor || Open

timebombteam:

timebombteam:

timebombteam:

Bruce thought he had meant his lycanthropy, but as the younger student continued to speak, only the truth came out in clean-cut sentences. Bruce opened his mouth to counter something, but he was all out of lies, and his mouth remained agape while no sound…

"I didn’t actually expect it to be a prank," Bruce assured the quick-witted Ravenclaw. "I’m also unaware of anyone here who’d be able to get their hands on a permit, and then just because they hate me. Not a teacher, most certainly." Although he was still streaked with the color of coal, Bruce stepped forward and examined the cauldron. Most certainly potassium, but from where?

"I don’t suppose you’re aware of anyone who has any relatives that are connected to something like elements?" Bruce asked, most likely fruitlessly. "Unless, of course, they got it all themselves, which is also very possible." The sixth-year scrubbed his hand through his hair, pondering. "And just for me? I must be pretty popular…"

"It is entirely possible that someone with muggle ties did this. They could have ordered from a chemistry supply company. It’s not cheap, and would need to be kept away from air and water for the time it took to get it to Hogwarts and onto your cauldron." Someone with a very very large grudge then. They either had enough money for such a purchase to be of little consequence, or they had enough hate for it to be worth it. It wouldn’t be quick either - any method of acquiring the metal would take large amounts of forethought.

"If I were you," Sherlock said after mere seconds of thought, "I would start being more cautious and look into the backgrounds of anyone who’s parents might be muggle teachers. Only a small amount of potassium could go missing in order for it not to raise suspicion, and the government tracks large purchases of it. An individual buying too much would be looked into. Odds are this behavior is going to escalate in a different way - probably linked to anti-werewolf sentiment. Unless you can think of another reason for someone to dislike you this much."

At Noon There Came A Tremor || Open

timebombteam:

timebombteam:

Bruce thought he had meant his lycanthropy, but as the younger student continued to speak, only the truth came out in clean-cut sentences. Bruce opened his mouth to counter something, but he was all out of lies, and his mouth remained agape while no sound came out.

When the…

Bruce could only be relieved for a moment. Yes, OK, this boy didn’t spread rumors. Would he put up a notice in every hallway, something for everyone to see clearly? Would he personally owl every student at breakfast that Bruce Banner wasn’t as he seemed?

Bruce was glad that this boy clarified the situation, and though the older student didn’t know the younger one well enough to fully trust him, he knew that he had to, unless Bruce wanted to go so far as to form an Unbreakable Vow with him, but that was quite unnecessary. Besides, his house mate was certainly intelligent, if not blunt to a fault. And he had a point: Life seemed to have it out for Bruce, and the only thing to make it worse would be for his own lycanthropy to be public.

Ah, the potassium. “I’m wondering the same thing,” the sixth-year admitted. “I don’t have a clue where anyone here would get their hands on elemental potassium. Most of the people here who hate me are pureblood, they wouldn’t even know what chemistry is, let alone potassium. It could be one of Tony’s pranks, he always loves a good laugh, but he hates to see me injured no matter what…” Bruce never knew with Tony, who was as unexpected as the earlier potassium-explosion.

Sherlock didn’t know to which ‘Tony’ Bruce was referring, but he figured it was immaterial. There were a multitude of students who got off on ridiculous pranks, but anyone who would know about potassium’s interactions with water would know the reaction was too violent for a prank.

"Pure elements do have their uses in alchemy, I know of a store in Hogsmeade were some could be ordered to. The Ministry regulates those things, however, so either the perpetrator has a permit to purchase such a volatile substance or they got it through the black market. Either way, the effort required makes this less likely to be a prank and more likely to be a hate crime."

At Noon There Came A Tremor || Open

timebombteam:

Bruce thought he had meant his lycanthropy, but as the younger student continued to speak, only the truth came out in clean-cut sentences. Bruce opened his mouth to counter something, but he was all out of lies, and his mouth remained agape while no sound came out.

When the whole truth was out, Bruce shut his mouth, furrowed his brow. All he could think to utter was,”That was- kind of…amazing.” No matter how much the truth hurt, all in all it was prodigious how he could have known all of that. “I mean…that was fascinating- I mean, like, incredible. You got most of it right.” He took another tissue and rubbed at his nose.

"The reason I expect you to bully me is because everyone here does, and so do the kids my age in Ohio. My dad doesn’t beat me, but he doesn’t really like the fact that I’m magic. It’s easy to jump right to domestic abuse, but all he does is ignore me and blame me for a lot of stuff I didn’t do. He doesn’t care about me, to be honest, especially when I get…you know, beat up by other kids." Bruce gazed at Sherlock, curious, yet he was guarded once more.

"I’m assuming this means you’re not gonna go around spreading false rumors about me." He readied himself for an expected betrayal. Bruce had probably gotten his hopes up, soon everyone would know he was a werewolf and that he was crazy like his dad and there would be no way to prove such things false.

Sherlock had been so sure about the physical abuse. It was too common in his life and others, he’d been positive it was the case here. “There’s always something,” he muttered. All the signs pointed to it, but just because Sherlock was wrong about the father having the heavy hand didn’t mean he was wrong about Bruce.

It seemed so bizarre for him to see a boy older than himself cowed by such behavior. Sure, Sherlock tolerated verbal abuse to some extent, but he was constantly lashing back against a world that disliked him. Or at the very least making it clear how little he cared about them all. Bruce didn’t seem to have that fortification, and it frustrated Sherlock. “I don’t spread rumors,” Sherlock replied. His voice was even and light, betraying no hint of his thoughts, “rumors have one foot in imagination, and I’m only interested in the truth.” Gossip was a fabulous tool, as it had the other foot in the truth most of the time, but Sherlock would have to be an idiot in order to believe everything he heard. The only rumors he spread were for a very direct purpose, and usually about himself.

"You can trust your secrets are safe, because frankly I don’t care enough to make you miserable. That’s already been accomplished by others." Sherlock made a sweeping gesture to indicated all of Bruce; his bruises, his paranoia, his lies and fear. Honestly, even if Sherlock wanted to make him miserable there wasn’t much left to do. "What I am interested in is how potassium got into your cauldron.”

Oh Snap || Sherlock and John

john-hufflepuff-watson:

youreawizardsherlock:

Sherlock had no intention of letting anyone get away with anything, but at the moment he had no proof of his hypothesis. Having John along for that was looking unlikely. “What didn’t you break?” he said sarcastically, before continuing on honestly. “You snapped your collarbone - in the way that doesn’t kill you, obviously. The nurse mostly fixed that already. From what I can tell of their treatments your shoulder is torn up and your leg is burned - also fixable. If you stay lying down.

John huffed, resigning himself to the next few days in bed. He was still a little woozy from  all his pain but Sherlock was right. If he didn’t stop squirming around he was never going to heal. “Fine. So what do we do now? Well, not so much we seeing how I’m stuck in this bed but you know what I mean.” John shot a look at the nurse but then softened his glare. It wasn’t her fault he was stuck here and there was no need to take his frustrations out on the innocent.

Thankfully, John’s nurse decided that she was needed and would be appreciated elsewhere so now the two of them were alone. “Sherlock,” The Hufflepuff leaned towards his boyfriend as best he could so that any prying ears wouldn’t be able to hear. “You don’t think this was Moriarty, do you?” 

Unseen by the older boy, Sherlock’s fingers relaxed from their clenched fists. He was going to relax and get better, and that’s all that Sherlock cared about. Sherlock was more dependent upon John’s company and continued existence than he’d like to admit. “Of course it’s Moriarty,” he replied. The Ravenclaw didn’t whisper, but his voice was pitched low and wouldn’t carry. “Who else would have the motive? He wants to hurt people, us included. And I bet anything this was a distraction for something bigger.”

Holmes Squared plus Watson || Sherlock, Mycroft and John

john-hufflepuff-watson:

magic-is-an-advantage:

Still standing in the hallway, Mycroft knew it was his turn to talk to Mummy once Sherlock and John exited the room. He was most likely to be scolded and knowing his brother might actually attack him at any new comment he stayed quiet as the boys passed him. He could not stop himself, however, from smirking when his gaze fell onto the boys’ combined hands, his expression showing clearly what he thought of the sentiment his brother was showing. 

John ignored Mycroft and his smug face as they passed him in the hallway. “Come on luv,” The blonde boy murmured as he pulled Sherlock a little bit closer. “Play me a song ye? I’d love to hear something.” The couple had made their way back to one of the main rooms at the front of the house. “Or we could go for a walk?” John nodded in the direction of the door, wanting to give is boyfriend choices so he didn’t feel any more trapped than he already did. “Whatever you want to do is fine with me.”

As they’d walked down the hall, it was impossible for Sherlock not ot notice the look Mycroft gave them. The smug, condescending look that turned Sherlock back into a child who still thought Mycroft knew best. Years of actively avoiding sentimental attachments made the blonde boy’s hand burn against his skin. John’s gentle voice rankled. His caring and coddling was smothering. Childishly he snatched his hand back out of his boyfriend’s grip and crossed his arms defensively at John’s attempt to pull him closer. “I want to be alone,” he said coldly. Sherlock was lashing out at anything and everything, and John just so happened to be the only one there.

At Noon There Came A Tremor || Open

timebombteam:

timebombteam:

timebombteam:

"Why would I get it from the nurse when I can make it myself, no questions asked?" Bruce countered as the younger student surveyed the potions he had out. "Potions is my favorite class. I love brewing them. And I don’t use most of what I make. Some students…

Bruce wasn’t sure he liked the kid, but trust was a whole different concept. He was…he picked up things other people couldn’t, was what he could tell from this conversation. And there was no denying it, the younger Ravenclaw knew and he wasn’t going to be caught up in Bruce’s own lies. Bruce was far from being in denial (it was pretty hard to in his situation) but that didn’t mean he had to like it. So he was uncomfortable when he could pick up a small mutter from his house mate, even as quiet as it was. Bruce pretended he hadn’t heard.

He also heard a bag rustling and was afraid the other student had started to go through Bruce’s own things again, but when he looked up, he was just in time to catch a box of tissues. He stared down at it, confused, and stared up at the giver before stammering,”Thanks.” If he knew that Bruce was a werewolf, why be kind to him? You were supposed to hate werewolves and make their lives miserable. Maybe he was trying to make Bruce feel like he was safe and strike later. That has to be it. Trust no one.

Might as well use them, though, and Bruce used one to wipe his face with. At least they worked, even if he didn’t like how his house mate found his late mother ‘interesting’. “What would I hide at my house?” Bruce inquired, wondering if he could plant even a single seed of doubt in the younger student’s mind.

"Your magic," Sherlock stated plainly. It was just a theory, but he was fairly confident of it. The evidence was all right here for anyone to see. "It angers your father who probably thinks your an abomination or something equally close-minded. Obviously you can’t do spells outside of the school yet, but you do your best to hide everything else from him least he lashes out.”

He gestured to the tissues in the other’s hand, “You didn’t think to use a spell to clean yourself, which means you make a habit of doing everything the muggle way. And you’re stocking up on potions to manage your condition, which is practical I’ll give you that, but the fact that you make your own instead of getting it from the nurse speaks of a deep-seeded paranoia as well as an apparent necessity to be self sufficient. Clearly you have a very toxic home life that’s bled over into your school life.” Bright blue eyes took in the other’s body language and facial expressions and Sherlock sighed longsufferingly, “And you expect me to bully you.”

Drowned world // Sherlock and Eleven

marauderoftime:

youreawizardsherlock:

Sherlock had miscalculated slightly. There were more people on this street than he’d anticipated, slowing him down. The black-haired boy wove in between clusters of people, knocking one down accidentally as he raced by but he paid them no mind. A narrow alley way through the buildings provided the perfect opportunity, and Sherlock shot through the gap.

His lungs were working at the maximum capacity as Sherlock sprinted. The plan would only work if he was faster than the others were. Sherlock emerged in a small gap in the crowd, startling a family who were watching a dancer spin ribbons around. Setting himself up in the middle of the street, Sherlock braced himself and waited. It took only seconds, but a girl dressed all in green came bursting out of the crowd and Sherlock didn’t hesitate.

Launching himself forward from the knees, Sherlock wrapped his arms around her middle and took her to the ground. The girl called out in surprise as they both fell and immediately began wrestling. “Eleven!” Sherlock called as the eavesdropper elbowed him in the chest, “A little help here!”

Oh winding through streets full of people was such a pain, and Eleven disrupted every group of people they flew past in his attempts to catch up with the woman. From his brief glimpses of her - Eastern dissent, very athletic, though no telling if she was a witch or not. 

Atlantis had been one of those cities that was shrouded in politics, and a jewel to many who had visited - especially those to the East. The Malays and Tibetans of this time, and a good deal of those of the Mongolian descent, had kept their eyes on this little part of the world since their rise less than 500 years prior. 

Eleven wasn’t sure how Sherlock had managed it, but the Ravenclaw was suddenly right in front of the woman as they turned into a more deserted side alley, and within moments both himself and the woman were scuffling on the ground. Within a breath, Eleven had his wand out, and with a quick mutter of “Incarcerous" a series of ropes shot out of the end. 

With a snap and twirl, the ropes had snaked themselves between Sherlock and the girl, very firmly binding the latter - her arms to her torso, and her ankles to each other. The woman let out a growl of frustration, having been constricted to the point of being able to do nothing but roll and flail, and she cast both of the boys very dark glares from behind her dark brown eyes. Eleven was very glad that looks couldn’t kill - well….most looks.

Eleven let out a huge breath, leaning heavily against the wall behind him, gasping for air and grinning to Sherlock at the same time. “That was….brilliant….Sherlock. Seriously. It’s a good thing you cut her off, because I was starting to think my lungs would burst.”

The resistance she put up was weakening, and Sherlock felt ropes worming between them. He pushed himself off roughly as to not be accidentally caught up, and finally caught his breath. Sherlock was athletic, but he still needed a break after running across half a city and then wrestling with someone on the ground. She’d been strong, obviously well trained, and professional. But they’d caught her now.

The dark haired boy stood from the street and shook the dust out of his hair. The woman bound at their feet was shooting positively murderous looks at him and Eleven. “We’re not done yet,” Sherlock said as he looked subtly around them. “We have to get her off of the street. Look’s like we’ve become the latest attraction.” A crowd had gathered in a circle around them. Atlantians pulled from their revelry by the fighting and staring openly.

"Official royal business," Sherlock called to them confidently. He hoped that would be enough to deter them from interfering. "Please return to Her Highness’ birthday celebrations."

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