M0R14RTY

At the healers everyone busied around, after all it was the middle of the day, when most of the Broomstick riding classes were happening then. Ms.Derwent was busying around, until she saw Sherlock in Snape's arm's, she had never seen Snape so worried, though she hasn't really seen him with emotion displayed across his facial features at all. She quickly pointed him to a bed, she was able to get a nurse to attend to him. At Dumbledore's office the Gryffindors, never one to quiet, and they weren't going to make an exception today. "Those scum, they sit there idly, while that brave Slytherin, obviously an exception to the cult, might be bleed

Running, that all they seemed to be doing, running. Even Lestrade would agree that being with Sherlock reacquired an awful lot of running. This time, they are in the middle of a case that dealt with many many missing persons. Rewind to about a week ago, they were sitting in the living room about a day after getting the case, Sherlock sat contemplating, whilst John wrote a new entry to his blog. John felt slightly worried by the way Sherlock reacted to this new case. Refusing any sustenance, tea, coffee or otherwise. No sleep whatsoever, the normal things, but then came the uncommon to Sherlock, refusing nicotine patches, moving all of the g

Weaving through the hallways, making it to the more abandoned, forgotten ones he quickened his pace. Heart pulses. Eleven more than his own, all were rather quickened, no footsteps, must be at a stand off. To the east if he wasn't mistaken, there is a hidden passageway around here. There it is! Sprinting down the newly formed hallway, his ears were met with whispered threats, hissed out of another fellow from Slytherin, his name was Anderson wasn't it? He was bullied so much by him, shouldn't he know? "What you think because you are the quid-ditch team you're all power full, you aren't much without the rest of your team are you? Just a bunc

Outside Narrative~ Sherlock delicately removed his nightmare journal from the nightstand on the side of his bed and gently buried it underneath transfiguration books, gold ink and heavy parchment, bought at Corgi's, at the bottom of a worn out black leather knapsack. Even though Sherlock's brother Mycroft put an extremely potent hex on it he was still weary about people getting curious. After all he was only a third year student, it could be broken by a prying professor, he could think of a couple who could open with a snap of their fingers, and dissipate all boundaries that had hid his personal life away. Mycroft and him had taken special p

"...well after I found out that she couldn't pay me back so I showed her how to have, how should I word it,  light fingers, she is actually one of my best agents, you should be proud, she picked up from the different attacks that you learned from the army, she is ready to be the next step, and i can tell her addiction is not alcohol anymore, she has a drink now and then, but now she gets her high from the thrill of the steal, and when she commits her first mur--" "I believe that is quite enough!" Sherlock interrupted being the first word he has said it took back the both of them with such an icy coolness which cut the air, yet he didn't yell

 Shear blissful notes he had struck bounced off of the strings and hummed around him, as he drew his wand of a bow to draw up more for his imaginations to play with. He stopped for a moment and took a step back to look at his masterpiece, only interrupted by reality of cheers and a baited audience. Not even bothering to thank the audience for coming, he did a half bow and strode of the stage. Entirely aware of the misty apparition that struggled to keep up, bouncing off of the walls and the passer-byes, entirely unaware. The violinist smiled sweetly at all of them, all of the familiar faces, even the unfriendly ones. Making it back to his