If Sherlock went to Hogwarts (Fanfiction)

Ash and Smoke

Sherlock Holmes raked his fingers through his black curls, bored. He had been practically ecstatic ever since the overwhelming arrival of the acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry yet his mother was bothering him. Wizards in Sherlock's mind were having trouble to exist there as it couldn't quite grasp the, what he once thought impossible, concept. He felt like a child that had just been told that Santa did not exist, not so much disappointed but angry at their parents for keeping up a false belief. That's how he felt (not that Sherlock ever believed in St Nickolas)- A stupid child. Yet instead of a beloved belief being just a dull dream, a beloved dream was washing away his dull belief.

"Mum..." Sherlock groaned, not bothered to say 'mother'.

"Coming dear, I know I put it somewhere around here..." His mother was bustling about, searching behind the living room furniture in what Sherlock could only describe as ridiculous cloths. She was wearing a wine coloured cloak, flowing down to her shuffling feet, and despite this bizarrely new wear he had to admit, it rather suited her. "Found it!"

"Mother!" Sherlock gasped at the tortious shell designed urn that his mother was holding up in triumph, "Isn't that Auntie G?"

"Don't try and be smart Sherlock. I'm the smart one. We never had an Auntie G. Imbecile." Mycroft leaned on the doorframe he had just entered by.

"This, dear, is Floo Powder."

***

He had fallen, rolled and spluttered as he coughed out ash, arched back, on the cold cobblestone floor beneath him. It was good to be back on solid ground, he had not appreciated being spun incredible fast for what seemed through a vacuum of air and a world made of ash as brilliant green flames consumed him and finally released him- released him where? Where was this "Diagon Alley" That he had muttered to the flames?

He opened his eyes, looking at his surroundings only to see that the darkened, empty stone cellar was no longer empty at all: his father had mineralized out of thin air holding something gently in his hands, "Redbeard!" He tried to stand up but he went weak kneed and his father held out a large hand to help him up. Sherlock stroked the crown of Redbeard's head as he stood, almost human like, licking Sherlock's face he could just about reach. Sherlock looked up at his father, admiration in his today the colour of a deep ocean, eyes "How...?"

"Apparition. You'll be able to do it when you're older. For now- Floo Powder."

Sherlock groaned once more as Redbeard leapt off him, "Couldn't I have just taken a taxi or something?"

(A/N: I had to. Sorry ;) )

Once outside they entered a world so unfamiliar to Sherlock it knocked the wind out of him. And the word "Wow" that escaped his mouth did not come close to describe the sheer immensity of the place. The place was merry, a wide and twisting cobblestone street lined with many shops. Shops here were not like that of the non wizarding world and Sherlock wished he could stand and stare yet his father pushed him up the warm lit street as to not disrupt the flow of the crowd so Sherlock could not gaze long at perfectly polished broomsticks, bubbling cauldrons, bottles of all coloured inks, mounds of books, great feather quills, scrolls upon scrolls of parchment, jars of frogspawn and other strange looking things that Sherlock had never seen before. His eyes wide with a muddle of shock and excitement on a face pale with anticipation, a face that did not often show emotion.

His father half turned his back to face Sherlock, still moving amongst the heavy flow of people, "We're meeting your mother at Florean Fortescue's later- first we need to go to the bank, I'm a little short of cash as no one expected you to-"