Saturday, September 15, 2012

Loveable Freak Presents: Sherlock Holmes and the Chest of Reality (A fanfic): Chapter 7

 Chapter Seven
A Means At Last 

  John was worried about Sherlock. Last time he saw him, he'd been so obsessive about going home. In fact, he had spent most of this month in Ravenclaw Commons Area, never coming out to see John. It felt like he only ever saw him in class, now. “Either he's onto something,” he thought, "or I should be seriously worried.”
   It was breakfast one morning when a Ravenclaw with sticky-uppy dark-brown hair and eyes, and tortoise-shell glasses came over to the Gryffindor table.
   “Hey, you're John Watson, right?” the boy asked in an Estuary accent. John nodded. “Wonderful! I'm Christopher David Smith.”
  “Do I need to use your full name?”
  “No, just “David Smith” is good...” David said.
  John took a sip of pumpkin juice. “so, what brings you here?”
  “Well,” David said, looking up at the ceiling, scratching the back of his head. “Sherlock wanted me to give you this urgent letter...” David handed John an envelope sealed with blue wax, a crest with an owl and otter imprinted in it (“His family has a crest here?” John thought). John opened the letter, and went pale. The message was written in what was unmistakably blood. Sherlock's blood.
 It read, the letters thinning with each word:
   Dear John,
   Come to Ravenclaw Tower as soon as possible. It's highly important. David Smith knows which dormitory is mine. Hurry!
  PS I'm sorry I've ignored you.
John was already on his feet and rushing towards Ravenclaw Tower. He stopped and turned around. He realizing David Smith was still standing around, his hands in his pockets.
  “Well, come on!” John said. “My best friend's just sent me a bloody note...”
  “Language, Mr, Watson.” Snape said as he breezed by.
  “I meant literally bloody, and I need you, David, to get me into his dorm!”
  David winced. “Oh. Yeah...” He caught up with John. “Allons-y!” David called, smiling as the two ran off.

  David snapped his fingers, opening the foul-smelling dormitory. “How'd you do that?” John asked. “Charmed it.” David said, nonchalant. “I'm very clever.” John sighed. “Yes, hence Ravenclaw...” he said sarcastically. The boys drew out their wands, ready to face the force plaguing Sherlock...
   ...that wasn't there.
  “Sherlock?” John called. “Sherlock?” David parroted. They examined the room. John had that sensation one gets down the neck when being watched. Suddenly, he tripped on seemingly nothing. David laughed, when suddenly he was hit by a foam ball out of nowhere. “What? What? WHAT?” David protested, looking for the ball's source as John laughed.
 Another ball hit John. “Ow!” The pair was assaulted by mysterious balls. John had a hunch as to who was behind this. “Sherlock...” he said disapprovingly.

“Oh, come on now, John. We really have to work on your ducking. Perhaps a codeword...” Sherlock's voice said. The corner of the room began to ripple like a curtain in the breeze, and Sherlock emerged out of nowhere.

“Oh, you made your own Invisibility Cloak. Oh, you are a clever one. Never doubted that...” David praised. He kneeled down. “And you made your cat invisible, too. You bright little thing!” he continued, petting the open air, causing it to purr.

John frowned. “You charmed Gladstone?” Sherlock folded his cloak.
“Of course. I had to test the spell for the cloak on something. Honestly, John...” he said matter-of-factly. He pointed his wand at David's feet and undid the spell, rendering the feline visible again.
John was furious. “You! I thought you were in trouble! What with your note written in blood...”
Sherlock pinched the bridge of his nose, remembering the note. “Oh, the note. I was just out of ink, and I had a slight nosebleed. I think it's the air here.” He sniffed. “But then I found one of the long, thin, black quills one of my clients bought me.”
“Clients!?” John said, incredulous.
“Yes, I've been solving petty cases around the school.” Sherlock said. He pulled John in closer. “By the way, next time I get too arrogent in my abilities, just say “Forbidden Forest”, and I'll try and reign it in." He added in a lower voice so David wouldn't hear.
 John was dumbfounded. “Why?”

Sherlock sighed. “Look, it involved some Fourth Years, a baby centaur, Hagrid's Hut, a yellow cloak, and a happy ending. Let's leave it at that. Anyway, the upperclassmen do me favors in return. I don't need the money. Especially since I'm apparently well off in this world.”
  John blinked. “Wait, what's that on the outside of your hand? Sherlock, you've been using a Blood Quill! It uses your blood and scars your hand!”
  Sherlock inspected his left hand, noticing the scarred message. “Ah, so it does...”
  “It's bad!”
  “It's handy, that's what it is.”
  “What if you write some novel or something and run out of blood?”
  “Blood is boring.”
  David got up and looked at his shoes rather awkwardly. “Well, I'd better go.” He said, running out.
 John stepped back from Sherlock. “Did you just call me here to pelt me with balls, give me a phrase to say, and let me in on the latest of your questionable habits?” Sherlock looked offended. He reached for a worn-out book that had been on his bed and handed it to John.
 “No, I wanted to tell you I may have found our way out... David's given me this book on strange and secret magical relics.” John looked at the book's cover. It's title was, indeed, Strange and Secret Magical Relics: The Complete Encyclopaedia. Sherlock flipped to a page bookmarked by a soiled, red, silk ribbon bound in the book. The page had a faded sketch of a strange, ornate chest on it. “The so-called “Chest of Reality". It should, theoretically, get us out of here.” Sherlock explained.
  “Really? A chest?” John said, skeptically.
  “What were you expecting, John? A flame green torch?”
  John took a good look at the picture. “What, do we step into it, and it takes us home? How Narnia...” John quipped. Sherlock gave John a baffled look. John was flabbergasted. “You never read The Chronicles of Narnia, either? Not even as a kid?”
  “I had a busy childhood!” Sherlock replied.  Sherlock shook his head. “...And yes. Basically, we sit in it, then close it on ourselves. Simplicity in itself.”
  John raised an eyebrow. “How will we fit?"
  David called from behind the door: “Maybe it's bigger on the inside!”
  “David, are you eavesdropping?” John called. “Sorry...” David said. Sherlock waited to continue, at least until David was gone for sure.
  “The only problem is I don't know the exact whereabouts of the chest. Now, my Hufflepuff Network...”
  Hufflepuff Network?”
  “Yes, no one notices a Hufflepuff. Honestly, John. They're a perfect substitute for my homeless network back home. Anyway, they heard it may be hidden here in Hogwarts. But the book says “Az”... something. There's an ink stain over the rest.
  “John, I need your help.”
  “Don't mind breaking some rules?”
  “Not at all.”
  “Or running the chance of expulsion?”
  “Not if it's for a good reason...”
  “Well, the reason's very good...”
  “Then I'm your man.”
  Sherlock smiled. “I know I can always rely on you.”
  John clapped his hands together. “So, where do we start?”
  “Ah! Right, I have some leads. Now that I know the cloak works, and my backup plan is in order, we can start tomorrow. But, answer me this, John...” Sherlock said, grabbing his companion's shoulders.
  “Do you mind missing the Quidditch game?”

Next Chapter Here -->


  1. "language mr watson"

    I could just imagine snape floating on past saying that
    Especially since Ron loved saying bloody... Everything pretty much.

    1. Glad you liked the line! (It was one of my favorite lines to write, too.)