Distinction: A Potterlock AU

Ch. 4: Any More Theatrics?

Chapter 4:

They weren't learning any charms in class today; Professor Flitwick was just teaching them the principles of charms. Once eager to learn, John, no longer cared. "Sherlock." He hissed. "How did you know that?" Sherlock pretended not to hear him. John sat in enraged silence for the rest of the lesson. When Professor Flitwick released them, John dragged Sherlock out of the classroom, down the corridor, and into an empty classroom. John shoved Sherlock against the wall angrily. "How did you know that, Sherlock?" He asked again, fighting to control his anger. "Your face." Sherlock responded calmly. "Sorry, what?" John asked. Sherlock remained silent until with an impatient sigh, John released him. Sherlock straightened his robes. "There are scars from scratches on your face." Sherlock began to explain. John winced and put his hand to the side of his face; he had hoped that the scars would have faded to the point of being unnoticeable by now. "Judging from the appearance, they are about two months old which means two months ago, around the time when you would have received your letter to Hogwarts, a female scratched you across the face. Now, it could've been your mother, but that's unlikely; any mother would be proud. So who else? Could be an aunt or cousin, but it's unlikely your parents would share the news with extended family. So, sister it is. Obvious." He said. "How did you know it was my older siste-" "Even if a younger sibling understood what was going on, they would be joyful at having someone 'magical' in the family, older siblings already usually resent the younger for receiving more attention, and would be much more likely to lash out with jealousy." "How did you know it was a woman that scratched me?" "The scars are faded, but it is still possible to tell that the scratches were deep, so a female or a male with unusually long fingernails, given the fact that you are from a military family, that is exceptionally unlikely." "Military famil-" "Military family, yes." Sherlock interrupted. "You speak with decorum and have excellent posture, not to mention your haircut. You're eleven. Most eleven year olds slouch, are sloppy, and probably don't know the meaning of 'please' and 'thank you' so that means a strict upbringing. A no nonsense household. Military family. Am I wrong?" John was stunned. "Am I wrong?" Sherlock repeated. John hesitated a few moments before speaking. "Two and a half months ago, my fifteen year old sister, Harriet, scratched me and called me a freak after I got my Hogwarts letter and my dad is second generation army." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Can we go to class now? Or have you planned more theatrics?" Sherlock asked. Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock strode out into the hallway. John hurried to catch up. Sherlock Holmes certainly was something, John just wasn't sure what.