Methods Beyond Magic

Arguments in the Loser Squad

"Well then, werewolves. How very fascinating, am I right?" he asked, standing up and starting the lesson. The next three classes that day got the same speech, about his innocence and the hilarious rumors that had been circling through the school. The reaction, however, depended on the grade. The seventh years, depending on the gender, looked both relieved and disappointed. The first years all seemed rather disappointed, because they knew that they were far too young to get any attention from him, and were undoubtedly feeding off the rumors being spread. The fourth years seemed a mix of both, of course. The rather hopeful girls all seemed kind of upset, but the boys seemed incredibly relieved, as if worried Sherlock was going to chat them up after class one day. When school day was over, Sherlock had to admit he was very relieved. Now that a good three classes knew where he actually stood, that was enough kids in each house to spread the truth. And every class along the way was bound to get the truth as well, and soon, the rumors would diminish. Sherlock was feeling very good about himself. So he headed off to the Great Hall, a small skip in his step.
"Hey, you just wait up there Mr. Orange Juice; I'd like to have a word with you." John called from down the hall. Sherlock just laughed, turning around slowly to see John moodily storming up the hallway, dragging along his little bucket in his wake.
"Hello John." Sherlock said with a smile.
"Come on, I was wearing one of my favorite shirts, now I have to wash it again!" John moaned.
"You poor thing. You know, there's a simple spell that could've sorted that out, if you had remembered it." Sherlock insisted.
"Well, I feel like without a good washing it'll still smell like oranges, so I just changed." John insisted.
"And you're mad at me?" Sherlock asked.
"Only a little bit." John shrugged.
"Oh good, I was worried." Sherlock said sarcastically.
"How's Hyacinth doing then?" John asked.
"Not very good considering he's dead. Me on the other hand, I'm actually doing quite well. I cleared my name to my classes today, and I'm sure by the end of the week the rumors will be over." Sherlock decided.
"Then you don't know enough about rumors then." John decided with a laugh.
"And you do then?" Sherlock asked.
"I know enough to know they won't disappear just like that." John pointed out.
"Yes well, the bet money will have to go somewhere." Sherlock agreed.
"What bet money?" John asked.
"I never told you about that? Ah, well, Victor told me about it, in the Slytherin common room, they're betting on which student I'll hook up with first." Sherlock laughed.
"Who's winning?" John asked. Sherlock just raised his eyebrows accusingly at him.
"Why do I feel like the winner is going to end up with a bucket on their head?" Sherlock asked.
"Depends who it is." John shrugged.
"Well, the winner, currently, is Victor." Sherlock pointed out.
"My bucket is definitely going on his head." John decided. Sherlock just laughed, rolling his eyes.
"You're so aggressive John." he decided.
"When did Victor tell you this?" John asked.
"Last night." Sherlock shrugged.
"You guys were hanging out last night?" John asked, crossing his arms.
"Yes, in my office, that's what friends do, they hang out, like you and I are hanging out right now." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well, he's hardly your friend, just a creepy companion, right?" John asked.
"No, he's my friend. And you're my friend as well, that's what friendship is, you can hang out with more than one person and not have it be a problem." Sherlock pointed out.
"Obviously you just have some possessive friends then." John guessed.
"I most certainly do." Sherlock agreed.
"Are you on your way to the dining hall?" John asked.
"No, I'm on my way to the dungeons for tea with Snape." Sherlock snapped.
"Wait... really?" John asked.
"Is he going to get a bucket on the head too?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, depends how long tea takes. Mind you, I think he'll slip some poison in your tea." John pointed out.
"I'm not on my way to have tea, I'm on my way to the Great Hall, it's dinner time, idiot." Sherlock insisted.
"See, that's what I thought, I didn't know what you were talking about." John agreed.
"I assume you'd like to accompany me then?" Sherlock asked.
"As long as the worm isn't taking along." John agreed.
"That worm has quidditch tryouts, so no, he's not coming." Sherlock assured.
"Then most certainly, let me just put my mop away." John decided.
"Why do you always have that thing with you, there can hardly be that many messes in the castle in need of a mop." Sherlock pointed out.
"You'd be surprised." John insisted. "And I always like to keep it handy, in case, you know, a mop emergency comes about."
"So basically your job is to wander around the school with your mop, looking for messes to clean?" Sherlock asked.
"Pretty much. And I answer the teacher's desperate calls for help." John shrugged.
"Well, they're able to clean up messes with their wands. Do you even carry a wand?" Sherlock asked.
"Don't really see the point." John shrugged.
"You're hopeless John, hopeless." Sherlock decided.
"I think I do just fine." John insisted. Sherlock just rolled his eyes, but followed John down the hall to put away his mop, and then down to the Great Hall. It was kind of a stupid thing to do, walk down together, considering their chairs at the staff table were on opposite sides of the table. So, with sort of awkward goodbyes, they went their separate ways and Sherlock sat in his chair, and John sat in his own. On John's side, he had Flitwick and Hagrid to talk to; Sherlock had to sit next to Snape and Sprout, who was talking about Devil's Snare to no one in particular.
"Cleared you name then, have you?" Snape asked.
"Word travels fast around here." Sherlock laughed.
"Shame, I was giving it less than a week until the headmaster planned on getting involved, it's never a good thing to romanticize teachers." Snape sighed.
"Well, I bet you've never had that problem." Sherlock guessed
"And I imagine that you never though you would've either." Snape pointed out.
"Never to this proportion." Sherlock agreed. Snape just sighed, as if that proved his point or something, and continued on with his meal. Sherlock made a disgusted face, but followed suit, dumping all of the food he could reach onto his plate and starting to eat. When he was starting to finish up, John came up behind him and hovered there, as if waiting for his turn to spill Sherlock's cup. He didn't really say much, which Sherlock could imagine would be kind of uncomfortable for Snape and Sprout, who had no idea that there was a bit of a spill war going on.
"Why are you wandering there Watson, what do you need?" Snape snapped without looking behind him.
"Oh, just waiting for Sherlock." John shrugged.
"In silence?" Snape asked in an amused tone.
"Something like that, yes." John agreed.
"I'm used to this type of stalking." Sherlock assured. He got up, abandoning his plate and, to John's disappointment, his goblet.
"Aren't you going to finish, I don't want you to starve?" John asked.
"Oh no, I'm fine. Besides, I feel sort of threatened with you wandering behind me. Hopefully you don't intend to get, pay back, from this morning." Sherlock sighed.
"Certainly not." John agreed.
"Want to come back up to my office? You can help me grade some papers if you want." Sherlock offered.
"Well, you sure do know how to show a boy a good time." John laughed.
"It's not like this is uncommon, and even though I do love your company, I still have commitments." Sherlock pointed out.
"So do I, just not after class hours really. Unless someone makes a really big mess." John shrugged.
"Do you have to clean the dining hall?" Sherlock asked.
"That's more the elves' job, clean up after the barbarians that this school wants to call students." John sighed.
"I heard barbarians, so I assume you were talking about me." Victor's voice said as they rounded the corner. He was leaning against the wall next to the classroom, his head leaned back on the stone and one leg up, as if he were modeling for some Hogwarts robe brochure.
"Funny enough..." John started.
"We were not talking about you." Sherlock sighed, cutting John off before he could say anything that he might regret.
"What are you doing here?" John asked rather harshly.
"I was kind of wondering the same thing about you." Victor snapped, straightening up so that he was once again a lot taller than John.
"Well, I'm here to see Sherlock, and, unlike you, I was able to find him first, before inviting myself in." John pointed out.
"I'm not inside; I'm in the hallway, waiting to be invited in." Victor snapped.
"Which you won't." John insisted.
"Which he will. Sorry Victor, John's just a little bit, grumpy today." Sherlock assured, unlocking the door and stepping inside.
"Why would that be?" Victor asked. Sherlock smiled a bit to himself.
"Because he spilled his orange juice this morning." he decided.
"Hey, that was all you." John defended, walking in first and taking a seat on top of one of the student's desks. Victor, however, went right for the teacher's desk, perching himself on top of it and picking up one of Sherlock's quills, stroking the eagle feather and giving John a rather challenging look.
"So, which one of you would like to grade some worksheets?" Sherlock asked, holding up a stack of worksheets the younger kids had done on stunning spells.
"Certainly." Victor decided.
"Don't expect me to know the stuff, there's got to be a key." John insisted.
"Of course." Sherlock agreed, holding up his own answer sheet.
"Then I'll do it as well." John decided, holding out his hand for a stack of the worksheets. Sherlock divvied up the papers so that there seemed to be the same number per person, or at least for each of his guests. He felt that if either one of them were a paper short that there would be some quarrels. Sherlock sat at his desk, taking his quill from Victor's hands, and set to work, grading the papers with a rather bored expression.
"So, Victor, how were quidditch tryouts?" Sherlock asked.
"Canceled. Hence why I'm here." he sighed.
"What happened?" Sherlock asked with a sort of laugh.
"Our captain got jinxed in the hallways today, and his ears are so large that they make him tilt when he walks." Victor said with an amused laugh.
"Have they found the culprit?" Sherlock asked.
"They have found neither the culprit nor the counter jinx." Victor said with a sort of accomplished laugh.
"You make it sound like you did it." John decided.
"Are you accusing me of attacking my own captain?" Victor asked.
"Yes. Since you're the type to think you deserve every position of power." John pointed out.
"No, actually, that's where you're wrong. I was offered the position of head boy, which is plenty powerful, if you do know from your Hogwarts days." Victor snapped.
"Of course I know what the head boy is." John insisted rather defensively.
"Good, because this would be kind of awkward if I had to explain it." Victor agreed.
"Please, boys, just do your work." Sherlock insisted.
"We can both give you a detention Trevor, and I'm not afraid to do so." John warned.
"Sherlock wouldn't let that happen, would you Sherlock?" Victor asked.
"If you deserved a detention Victor, I would be obliged to give it to you." Sherlock sighed, dipping his quill in the ink and continuing on.
"Yes, but so far I haven't done anything to deserve one." Victor pointed out.
"Yes he has." John snapped, giving Victor a rather hateful glare from across the room.
"No, not yet." Sherlock agreed.
"Watch your tongue, caretaker." Victor snapped. John opened his mouth in shock, looking at Sherlock in defense. Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes and not wanting to get involved in this childish feud.
"And Victor, be nice." Sherlock added. John nodded in accomplishment and went on to scribbling over the answers on the worksheets. They sat in silence for a while, correcting the worksheets. A couple of times John would burst out into laughter at something some stupid kid had put, such as dragons only live in Romania, and that half of them only turn into the giant reptiles on a full moon. Sherlock giggled a little bit, but Victor seemed extremely unamused, clicking his tongue every time John seemed to have too much fun. OF course Sherlock saw nothing wrong with trying to make grading tests amusing, but he had to admit, some stupid first year answers weren't really enough to make him fall out of his chair. Soon, Victor was done with his pile, finishing a little bit before both Sherlock and John, so he pulled his wand out and started to make sparklers fly around the room. Sherlock found the little glowing firecrackers to be very amusing, sparkling and emitting small bangs every once in a while, but John seemed to be very irritated with them, smacking them out of the air when they got too close to his workspace. So of course, Victor decided to make them go even closer to him. John would pretend to ignore them, then he'd go in for the kill, wildly waving his hands around. Of course with his quidditch reflexes, Victor was too fast for him, so once John started to swat the air, the sparkler was already on the other side of his face, tickling his nose and banging around next to his ear.
"See, I can't work with these distractions." John insisted.
"Victor, please don't distract him." Sherlock sighed. "I feel like I'm babysitting two children."
"You are, well, there's only one student here." John shrugged.
"I may be a student, but my IQ is probably taller than you." Victor snapped.
"See, that doesn't even make sense. That's the thing about IQ's; usually they mean that you're intelligent." John pointed out.
"It takes an intelligent person to understand intelligent jokes." Victor snapped. "Sherlock understood it, right?" Sherlock sighed, looking innocently at his paper.
"I don't want to get involved." He decided.
"You understood my joke?" Victor pointed out.
"I understood it, but good jokes usually don't involve much thinking." Sherlock sighed.
"How can an IQ be tall?" John debated.
"It could be in inches. Say Victor's IQ is 30 ("It is so much higher than that, shut up!" Victor protested), then his IQ could be thirty inches tall. And since he probably has a much higher IQ than thirty, then it would probably be taller than you." Sherlock guessed.
"You're saying I'm short?" John asked.
"And saying I'm smart." Victor agreed proudly.
"John, it's not like it's a secret you have to stand on your tiptoes to look me in the eyes. And Victor, your work has all proved that you definitely don't have an IQ of thirty." Sherlock insisted.
"Just because you're a giant doesn't mean I'm short." John protested.
"Your legs don't touch the ground when you sit on a desk." Victor pointed out. John opened his mouth to protest, but closed it when his foot swung innocently, a couple of centimeters from the ground.
"Ya, but that's not my fault." He snapped. "I feel so judged."
"We're not judging you." Sherlock assured.
"I am." Victor decided.
"I'm not judging you." Sherlock corrected. "You don't need to be tall to be a good person, and you're a good example of that." John smiled proudly, finishing off his last worksheet and setting it on a neat pile on the desk next to him. Sherlock finished up as well, so he collected their papers and made a nice neat stack on his desk.
"Well, that was going to take me at least three nights, and I got it done in an hour." He said proudly.
"Is that a good thing?" John asked.
"Oh yes, it's a very good thing. Now I have more time to spend with you losers." Sherlock decided.
"I'm not a loser." Victor protested.
"Yes you are." John decided.
"We're all losers, banding together and making a loser squad." Sherlock assured.
"More like a loser pair with our awkward stalker." Victor suggested.
"You're both awkward stalkers, shush." Sherlock decided.
"Ya, at least I don't wait at his doorway for when he comes from dinner. How long were you there, thirty minutes, doodling your initials in a little heart on the door frame?" John asked.
"At least I don't follow him around like a puppy." Victor snapped.
"He is right here, listening to you two quarrel. I don't see why we can't all just get along, like; we're all here, we all share common interests and abilities, so why don't we just get along?" Sherlock suggested. Victor frowned and one of his sparklers banged a little bit louder than usual, making Sherlock jump a little bit in his chair.