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Sherlock at Hogwarts Year 4.2John was enjoying his time at Baker Street immensely. Sherlock, as always, was never boring to be around. He was always active, always theorizing or talking about something interesting. He also was playing his violin quite a bit more than John had ever heard him-sometimes frantic pieces that John winced at, other times music that both John and Mrs Hudson listened to and enjoyed.
Mrs Hudson herself was amazing. John would never admit it to his own mother, but her cooking and baking was the best he'd ever had, and she seemed to love doing both for the boys. As a result, Sherlock was eating much more consistently than John had seen in any of the years he'd known his friend. Mrs Hudson seemed to love Sherlock, often referring to him to John as her boy; John could see where Sherlock calling her his nearly adoptive mother at the end of last term came from.
'I worried, you know,' she said to John, setting out breakfast while Sherlock was still in the shower. 'He wasn't alright last year, not
Sherlock at Hogwarts Year 4.1'Why does he need to pick you up? Did you tell him we could drive you?' Mr Watson asked John. John nodded.
'He said something about not being about to find the address-'
'I've lived in London all my life-'
'Yeah and he said the address is 221b Baker Street.' John grinned at his dad's expression. 'Maybe it's like the Leaky Cauldron-really hard to spot.'
'Bloody wizards,' Mr Watson shook his head.
'Harold,' John's mum came in and tutted at his dad. John laughed. 'You all packed, John? When's he supposed to be here?'
'He said noon...' John checked his watch. 'Few minutes then.'
Mrs Watson smiled. 'I'm just happy he's somewhere healthy and safe now during the summer months when he's not with us.' Sherlock frowned. 'That brother of his was a little too stiff-lipped for my liking.'
'Sherlock would be happy with that,' John commented, as the front door's bell rang. Mrs Watson hurried to get it as John and Mr Watson followed.
'Sherlock!' Mrs Watson hugged him at the door tightly and John caugh
The Gift (2/2)'Are you getting him anything?' John asked Anderson as they stood apart from Sherlock, watching him work. 'He won't let me ask him what he wants.'
'What the hell would I be getting him?' Anderson looked at John, bewildered. 'It's not like I would be able to get him anything useful or that he would like, and any other gift would just be a stupid gesture.' He snorted. 'Have you ever thought that maybe he just doesn't want anything?'
'Yeah I just...you know, want to get him something,' John said lamely. Anderson looked ready to roll his eyes. 'Look he's been away two years and he's still my best mate...'
'Don't think you can get him anything if he doesn't want it,' Lestrade muttered, striding up to them. 'Sherlock needs a hand for a minute, Anderson.'
'I still want to,' John sighed. Lestrade shook his head. 'What are you getting him?'
'New gloves and magnifying glass' Lestrade said. John raised his eyebrows. 'What? He needs new gloves, and the glass I found suits him so...'
Terms of Destruction Part 2Sherlock was sitting on the wall smoking as Victor read out loud from Macbeth dramatically. Victor thought Shakespeare was dull, but easy enough; Sherlock found it brilliant.
'You should've been an actor, Victor,' Sherlock laughed. He crushed the end of the cigarette on the brick and threw it into a bush.
'Definitely. My law career would miss me too much, though. The world needs me to defend justice in court, and I shan't let it down by wasting that talent.'
Sherlock snorted. He'd been living with Victor for two weeks, and was always surprised to say that he thought of him as a friend. Who knew what getting an ankle ripped open by a dog would do for you.
'So, go on.' Victor leapt up onto the wall and perched next to Sherlock. 'What are you doing with all the justice system classes? You said you weren't studying for law.'
'Detective work.' Sherlock barely voiced his aspirations to people, mainly because Mycroft had been a constant bickering of noise, telling his younger sibling how much
The Gift (1/?)I've already told you not to worry about it." Sherlock's deep voice purred from the sofa where he lay, still in pajamas and dressing gown, eyes closed.
'Sherlock, it's Christmas, I want to get you something.'
'Get Mrs Hudson or Molly something. Or even Lestrade.' He open his eyes and waved his hand dismissively. 'I don't want anything, I don't know what you could get me. Do you suspect we're the type of people to get each other gifts? Mrs Hudson and I exchange gifts. It will stay that way.'
'Yeah but you got me a bottle of wine last year,' John said accusingly.
'Better than the beer you normally keep.' Sherlock huffed quietly. 'It was a good vintage anyways.'
'Yeah I didn't know you knew about wine until then.' John chuckled. 'Didn't think it would merit space on the hard drive.'
Sherlock shrugged and swung his feet over the side of the couch, standing fluidly. 'Shower,' he commented, as he walked past Joh through to the kitchen. 'Then I'm texting Lestrade. This Christmas thing better
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