The School and the Sociopath {Revised Edition} ~teen!potter!lock~

Chapter 1: I Met Him on the Train

A/N: My dearest johnlunkies, I know I started writing some potterlock a little while ago, but I decided that I don't really want to write about passionate gay love between two eleven-year-olds. So here is a "revised" edition. Hogwarts still has seven main years, but you can now attend an eighth year to learn how to go about a specific career. Not all students take this year, but many do. Greg and Mycroft are, while Sherlock and John are in seventh year. This takes place in Harry Potter's universe, but he is long dead and so are most characters from the books by J.K. Rowling. I hope everything makes sense! Read on...

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(John POV)

I sat on the Hogwarts Express, in a compartment with my mates Mike and Gary. We were munching on some chocolate frogs, which we had bought a few minutes earlier.

"Two more years," Gary sighed, tossing his wrapper onto the floor and leaning back. "Goddammit, I can't wait to get out of that shithole."

"Speaking of getting out," Mike said, "Do you have any idea what you wanna do when the year's up?"

"Who the hell cares? I'm sure I'll get some decent job."

"End up in Azkaban, more like," Mike scoffed. Gary was known as quite the troublemaker at Hogwarts. The professors were probably as happy to see him go as he was to leave. "What about you, John?"

I looked up from studying my chocolate card, Harry Potter again. "Me? I'm thinking of working for St. Mungo's. As a nurse and then a doctor." 

"Someone's got their life figured out," commented Gary.

"Someone else should start thinking about the future," shot back Mike.

"Since when were you my mom?" asked Gary. Mike only threw his chocolate frog wrapper at him in response. I wasn't really paying attention. I was thinking about my career. Sure, I wanted to be a doctor. I had visited St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries back in fifth year a few times, and I liked doing that kind of work. The idea of 'saving someone's life' gave me a rush of adrenaline I seemed addicted to. The risk, the danger of it all had its hold over me. If I were to be anything, it would be a doctor. 

Suddenly, the compartment door slid open. Three people stood in the doorway.

"Hey, John! Mind if my friends and I squeeze in?" he asked me. He nodded back at a pale, scowling, black haired boy behind him. "Genius here got us kicked out of our old one." Recognizing Greg, last year's Gryffindor Quidditch captain, I nodded and the three of them slipped in. Greg sat by Mike and Gary, so I was stuck next to the ginger with the funny nose and the raven-curled boy. The air was tense for a few uncomfortable minutes, until Greg had the gratifying idea to break the silence.

"So, introductions!" he cried. "I'm Greg, but you know me." Mike and I were Chasers, and Gary was a Beater. All proud Gryffindors and good friends of Greg, who was a bloody amazing Keeper. "This is my mate, Mycroft Holmes, and his brother, Sherlock." Gary sat up straighter. Mycroft Holmes planned on becoming the Minister of Magic, but he was already ruling a small country of his own at Hogwarts. The bloke pretty much was the school board, and Gary the Troublemaker didn't really like being near authorities. He got caught too much, and wasn't very fond of consequences. "And Sherlock, Mycroft, these are -"

"Oh, we won't be needing that. I already know everything I need to know. Gary Knight, seventh year, Gryffindor, known as a troublemaker, but really is just a fool who makes a mistake and says he meant it because he wants to be known. He had the problem of having no friends before he attended Hogwarts, and developed a reputation to prevent the repeat of that." John noticed Gary turn a furious red. He was sure the boy would punch Sherlock, but then, the school board was right there. "Mike Stamford, seventh year, Gryffindor, thinks of himself as a peacemaker, but involves himself in questionable antics with his friends anyway. Loyal, brave, doesn't like trouble, frequently the happy medium between his female family members which often catfight. A little dull." Mike looked up at Sherlock and wasn't sure whether to be relieved his verdict wasn't too bad, or angry that Sherlock had shouted out his family secret. "John Watson, seventh year, Gryffindor, father's abusive, mother's a drunk, brother named Harry, who you don't approve of due to his own drinking problems, wants to become a doctor, but not because he's interested in it, but because he gets off on it. Mudblood."

Everyone gasped at the word. I was a little angry, but not so. I mean, it was true. And Sherlock hadn't said it unkindly, more like he was just stating a fact. I knew they were waiting for me to lose my temper, which could be quite violent, but I didn't. I simply stared at Sherlock. Thinking back to that now, I realize how much I must have looked like a fish.

"Amazing! Brilliant! Fantastic!" I cried. "How did you know all that? I've never seen you before in my life!" (This wasn't exactly true, they probably passed each other in the halls a few times over the years, but it was true they had never acknowledged each other's presence). Sherlock stared back at me.

"You don't... mind?" he asked. I shook my head. 

"Why would I? It's genius!" 

"Most people think it's just annoying and stuck-up."

"Well, I don't." Sherlock stared at me then, with those piercing eyes, as if to see if I were lying. He finally turned away, and murmered something. 'Interesting,' I think it was. He was weird, but I had nothing against that. It was amazing what he did.