Keeping Things Alive 101 | Sherlock & Greg

burgundy-lion:

youreawizardsherlock:

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.

"Are you playing at being a psychic now?" Greg huffed, moving his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I mean, I thought about an athletic career…" He started, but then stopped and turned his head to look at the young Ravenclaw. "I don’t understand how you can come to a conclusion like that with only two things supporting your case." He sighed, folding his arms again to his chest and staring back to the worm. 

Only two things? What, was Lestrade insinuating that Sherlock had guessed? He never guessed. “You’re a prefect,” Sherlock began, “and you take that position seriously. Obviously you still posture and strut around like you don’t care, but the level of dedication that you apply to your patrols shows on some level you like the responsibility. Or at least crave it on some subconscious manner. The nature of your family life is obvious - I already knew you were an older brother. Two- no, three younger siblings? You helped raise them and care about their well being, a care that spilled over onto random passersby. You kept vigil by my bedside after all, and I was simply high. And then there’s the relationship with my brother. Mycroft is the most rigid human being I’ve ever encountered. He puts trees to shame with his stiffness, as well as his stillness. He’s too lazy to take advantage of half of his intellectual capacity. That level of rigidity comes from with a distaste of disorder, and that laziness shuns the athletic. Oh no doubt he’d attend your games - when he can be bothered - and congratulate you on your victories but he’d never stop hinting that you should pursue a serious career. And you already are thinking of one. And auror’s life lends itself to the responsibility that you crave, as well as the athleticism and sense of helpfulness that you pride yourself on. No doubt you’ve already imagined yourself in the position, wand raised and spells flying, coming out the glorious victor of some altercation.” 

It’s Your Lucky Day || Abaddon & Sherlock

bloodinyourlipstick:

youreawizardsherlock:

It was times like these that Sherlock wished his ability to apparate on school grounds extended further then two meters. Even that was pushing it, and in his condition Sherlock was more likely to get splinched then arrive at his destination.

"Do you have anyone in mind?" Sherlock questioned. He could attempt to contact John for aid, but Sherlock had no idea where the other boy was. He didn’t doubt the other was capable of securing the foot safely, but the act of contacting the Hufflepuff opened up too many opportunities for things to go horribly wrong. Sherlock scowled at their situation in general and spoke bitterly, "I know several ways of getting into Hogsmeade, but between the two of us we could cause a number of them to collapse."

"Sounds like a good time," Abaddon said with a sigh. Who could she contact. Tony? Lucifer? Sebastian? Hell maybe a certain Hufflepuff she knew could assist them. She only had one thing, however, that wasn’t necessarily attached to her that could help. But luck could still be bad, and what if the person she sent it to reacted badly rather then follow along.

"We could somehow contact the headmistress. She’ll call us stupid but she’d have to help. Unless she wants people dying in the castle." Meanwhile she pulled her wand free. How strong of a patronus could she cast to send a message? While she let Sherlock mull that option over she summoned up what positive thoughts she could.

"The Headmistress would be the smart choice," Sherlock replied. He hoped that she chose that option, actually. The rabbit’s foot, and a cursed one at that, was against several of the school’s rules and would be no doubt confiscated almost immediately. Abaddon would be punished for owning it, punished for using it on another student, but Sherlock would be fine in all of this. Unless the girl intended to plea ignorance as to what it did. "If you can manage it."

The courtyard around them was not simply a paved over square. It had trees, grass, things of that sort. Above him Sherlock heard a snap, and the Ravenclaw reacted as quick as he could as a branch fell down onto the two of them. He was not quick enough to avoid it completely, and there was another tearing sound as the branch cut through Sherlock’s sleeve - and some of his skin as well.

I Hate Days Like This || Merlin & Sherlock

dothismerlin-dothatmerlin:

youreawizardsherlock:

He would not be fooled, but Sherlock had a feeling that the Slytherin had simply been thinking of something idiotic he was embarrassed to admit. Either way when Merlin finished Sherlock simply proclaimed “Lie” and started walking away from the door. They’d spent too much time just loitering around it anyway. “Come on,” he beckoned, “I want something hot to drink. There’s bound to be tea in the Great Hall.”

The easy smile that Merlin wore was practically slapped off his face as Sherlock called his lie then turned to walk away. Merlin stared at him opened mouthed as he walked away. He was a bit shocked and also a bit scared that Sherlock would go into it. It didn’t seem like he was, though.

He thought Sherlock was just finishing their conversation but he beckoned him on. So Merlin snapped his mouth shut and then shook his head. This was fine. Sherlock still didn’t know what he was hiding and didn’t seem to care, really. At least that’s what Merlin was getting from him. He didn’t exactly know if he could figure Sherlock out, though, so he knew he could be wrong. He jogged to catch up to Sherlock until he fell into step behind him. “They might have some biscuits out, too. I could do with one of those.” He said quietly.

"Mmm, I wouldn’t mind those either." There was nothing that needed heavy brain work going on at the moment, so Sherlock felt no reason to fast. When he did eat the Ravenclaw had a bit of a sweet tooth, and tea and biscuits was just what the doctor ordered to combat the cold.

As they entered the Great Hall Sherlock continued talking without looking at the other. “For future reference it would be unwise to try to trick me; it doesn’t work.” His eyes flicked once, briefly and intensely, at Merlin’s before he looked for open seating. There was indeed a tea service set up on every table, and Sherlock moved immediately for his house’s seat. “Come, sit down.”

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.” 

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