Sunday, September 9, 2012
Loveable Freak Presents: Sherlock Holmes and the Chest of Reality (A fanfic): Chapter 2
<-- Previous Chapter/Chapter One Here
Sitting across from Sherlock was a prepubescent-looking boy. His hair was a sort of blond and was probably otherwise neatly cut. That is, save the good chunk of it currently sticking up in the back from sleeping. He was wearing a jumper, and sounded like...
“John! What happened to you?”
Little John's eyes widened. “Me? What happened to you, Sherlock?” Sherlock raised his eyebrows, then darted to the window to try and get a better look at himself through the window's faint reflection.
Much like John, he was notably shorter and smaller, His dark curls were now messier. He looked, for lack of a better word, like an eleven year old boy again. “What's going on?” Sherlock exclaimed. “This makes no sense!”
John started giggling. “What's so funny?” Sherlock asked.
“Nothing...” John said, trying to pull it together. “Just... your low voice sounds hilarious coming out of a kid.” Indeed, Sherlock still had his old voice like John did. Sherlock laughed, too.
“So, John, any idea where we're going or how we got here?”
John shook his head. “No, but something about the train feels strangely familiar...”
Sherlock started to re-take his seat when he realized that some black, furry thing was on it. Sure enough, there was a cat curled up in Sherlock's spot. It had two notable features: its bold blue eyes and dark gray front paws. With a bored look, it hopped down and rubbed up against Sherlock's leg.
“I think he likes you...” John stated.
Sherlock looked at the cat with little interest. “Fantastic...” he said, deadpan.
John stood up and picked up the cat, scratching behind its ear. “Mittens seems like a god cat. Is there any possibility you'll keep him?”
“I think it depen- wait. “Mittens”? Why do you assume his name's Mittens?” Sherlock asked.
John shrugged. “Dunno. He just looks like he would be named “Mittens”, on account of his paws.” John took it upon himself to illustrate this point, by waving one of the cat's paws.
Sherlock groaned. “No, that's too frightfully obvious. Now, “Gladstone”, Gladstone is a good name.”
After a long, intense, and heated debate over names (including such arguments as: traditions, cliches, ownership and name privileges, which name would hypothetically get him beat up by the other cats if cats were anthropomorphic, and the strength of the name “Gladstone”), they reached a settlement. Since it seemed to technically be Sherlock's cat, he was to be christened “Gladstone”.
“Well, now that that pointless little distraction's settled, let's move on to something less trivial. Such as where we are...” Sherlock said. Just then, there was a knock at the door. Sherlock looked out the door's window. There appeared to be an eleven-year-old girl with uncanny resemblance to...
“Molly? She's here, changed, too?” John asked.
“Apparently.” Sherlock said, opening the door. “Hi, Molly.” he greeted, trying to be as sociable as possible for him.
Molly blinked. “Y-you know my name?”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. She was genuinely surprised he'd known her name. Strange. “Of course,” Sherlock said, trying to mask his puzzlement. “I've known who you are for quite some time...”
Molly tilted her head. “How...?” Just then, realization swept over her face. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. “Of course! You're Sherlock Holmes! The new Minister of Magic's little brother! Oh, you must have access to all sorts of information like that!”
“Minister of what!?” Sherlock said, staring at her as if he'd seen maggots in top hats crawl out her nose. John was just as surprised. “I'm sorry, what?”
Molly turned to John, finally acknowledging him. “Oh, I'm sorry. Who are you?”
John sighed. “John. John Watson.”
“Well, nice to meet you two. Your voices sound really weird. They don't match your bodies...” Molly said.
Sherlock thought of a quick way to dismiss it. “A bit of early puberty.” John looked at Sherlock, his face simply saying: “Really? That's what we're going with?”
Molly nodded, accepting the far-fetched excuse. Her eyes turned to Gladstone. “Oh, my... Is this your cat? He's adorable!” She shrieked, scooping up and hugging the feline.
“Yes, his name's Gladstone.” Sherlock answered.
Molly petted Gladstone, making him purr. “Really? He looks more like a “Mittens”...” John smirked and looked over at Sherlock, smug.
“Shut up, John.” Sherlock replied.
Molly handed them back the pet. “Oh, I almost forgot. The girls in the compartment across from you wanted me to tell you to get in your robes...”
“Robes?” Sherlock asked, noticing Molly's school uniform and the black robe draped across her arm.
“We're arriving soon. See you later, Sherlock!” She turned to John. “Oh, and John.” John offered a wave in response. “I hope we get sorted into the same House! Bye!” She said, waving and closing the door
“Houses?” Sherlock thought aloud.
John's eyes widened. “Could it be..?” He opened the upper window, climbed up, and looked ahead outside. He gasped. Sherlock quickly followed suit. The duo saw a very old castle upon the water, growing closer and closer with each turn of the train wheels.
“Holy...! We're going to Hogwarts!” John exclaimed with thinly-masked glee. Sherlock turned to his friend. “Hogwarts!?” He said with disbelief.
What on earth was going on?
Next Chapter Here -->