Methods Beyond Magic

The Greatest Desire Of Our Hearts

    "So, did you win any of your games being football captain?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh ya, loads. We were district champions." John agreed with a proud little smile.
"That's good; it's good to be champions." Sherlock nodded.
"How about you, won anything lately?" John asked.
"Well, considering I'm friends with you, I think it's fair to say that I've won life." Sherlock decided.
"Oh you, such a flirt." John decided.
"You think I'm flirting with you?" Sherlock asked, turning on the couch so that he could see John's flustered face.
"No, it was a joke." John insisted.
"Do you want me to be flirting with you?" Sherlock asked.
"I feel like it would be funny to see you try." John decided.
"Don't think I'd be very good at it, do you?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows.
"No, I don't think you would be. You seem too awkward to get a pickup line out." John decided, walking back over and throwing the ball to Sherlock.
"Ya, you're right, but I could always give it my best shot." Sherlock shrugged. "I assume you're a real good flirt though."
"Why do you say that?" John asked, lingering near the arm of the couch and not sitting down.
"Well, you seem like a quick thinking person. I imagine you were the most eligible bachelor in Muggle School." Sherlock guessed. John shrugged, blushing a little bit.
"I had a couple of girlfriends, not really looking for anything special; I never thought I'd end up with a muggle." John admitted.
"You're going to marry a wizard?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, I want to. I want to keep the Watson name in the wizarding world, even if I am just a squib." John assured.
"Oh stop it John, you're not just a squib, you're brilliant." Sherlock insisted.
"How about you?" John asked.
"Oh, I don't know. Marriage never seemed to suit me, relationships themselves never appealed to me either." Sherlock admitted.
"So what use is flirting if you don't need to use it?" John asked.
"You tell me, beautiful." Sherlock asked. John just groaned, as if Sherlock's attempt of flirting had physically hurt him.
"No?" Sherlock asked, rather embarrassed.
"Definitely not." John agreed. "You sound monotone, you've got to put your heart into it, use your eyes." John suggested.
"Demonstrate." Sherlock decided, crossing his legs on the couch and watching John as if expecting a show.
"No, come on, that's embarrassing." John insisted.
"It's only embarrassing how much I love you." Sherlock decided, opening his eyes wide as if that would help.
"Woah, you look like a psycho killer, never do that again." John decided, going quite red and hiding his face behind his hands.
"Ya, I didn't feel that one either." Sherlock agreed.
"It'll come to you, you can't force magic." John shrugged.
"Yes I can." Sherlock pointed out, waving his wand in his fingers. John just laughed, shaking his head kind of ironically.
"Sorry, muggle puns don't work around here." he decided.
"Neither do muggle pickup lines, so get creative Watson." Sherlock agreed.
"So, what do you want to now?" John asked.
"I don't know, I feel like we're stuck here, Victor might be patrolling the halls." Sherlock decided.
"We don't have to walk through the halls, there's all sorts of fun things outside, or around the top floors. You want to see that mirror I was talking to you about?" John suggested.
"Sure." Sherlock agreed with a smile.
"I think I remember where it was, somewhere on the seventh floor." John decided. He opened the door, poking his head around to make sure the hallway was empty. Sherlock joined him, seeing for himself that there were no people mingling around before walking out into the hall. There weren't many people on the stairs, thankfully, and there were zero Victors walking around, which made Sherlock feel a lot better as he ascended into the rather uncharted territory of Hogwarts. These hallways were mostly used to store magical junk that the school couldn't be bothered with, and for students that needed a quiet place to kiss. Sherlock really hoped John wasn't planning on doing the latter, especially after whatever horrible flirtation tactics he had used.
"Here we are, some deserted classroom in the middle of nowhere." John decided, opening a dusty old door that squeaked at the hinges. Sherlock walked into the classroom, where there were stacks of ancient looking chairs, a few old desks, and an old teacher desk that looked home to a whole new species of insect. The main center of attention, however, was the large, dusty mirror in the center of the room, the sunlight bouncing off the stained golden frame. It would've been large and elegant, but now it was filled with cobwebs and dust, looking very old and unimpressive.
"It's pretty cool right?" John asked, standing in front of it and gazing in the mirror. "I see you and me, which is funny, because you're actually standing over there." He said proudly. Sherlock looked into the mirror from where he stood, but he couldn't see himself. In fact, all he saw was John gazing into the glass rather lovingly, as if he saw something wildly different than Sherlock did.
"You try. I assume it just shows who you last interacted with." John shrugged, stepping out of the way for Sherlock to see his reflection. For a moment all he saw was himself, but then he saw a figure on the ground. It was Victor, lying on the floor, but he looked terrible, there was a gash in his head, bleeding profusely over his usually neat clothes. Now they were torn and stained, and he looked terrified. Sherlock was smiling, watching Victor struggle on the floor, writhing as if there was a powerful weight on his chest, preventing him from doing anything than soundlessly screaming. Sherlock smiled to himself, and the Sherlock in the mirror smiled as well, kicking Victor forcefully in the ribs and watching him squirm in pain on the ground. John watched Sherlock in wonder, wondering what he was seeing.
"Wait a moment; I know what this mirror is..." Sherlock muttered, reading the golden writing on the top of the mirror. Through the dust and the cobwebs, Sherlock could make out the writing, the Mirror of Erised. Sherlock had heard about this mirror when he was in school, it showed someone the deepest desires of their heart, men go mad staring at it day in and day out, seeing someone they loved, seeing an accomplishment that was virtually impossible...and John saw Sherlock. Sherlock looked at John in shock, his mouth hanging open slightly as if not daring to believe it. Could Sherlock really be the deepest desire of John's heart?
"What? What does it do?" John asked, looking sort of embarrassed to be in the spotlight.
"It...you're right, it shows the last person you talked to." Sherlock agreed.
"So, you see me then?" John asked, lingering next to the mirror as if hoping to see what Sherlock did.
"Ya, of course." Sherlock agreed, looking back to the mirror to see that his reflection had kicked Victor again, leaving the boy spread eagled on the ground, screaming in pain, blood bubbling over from his mouth. Sherlock smiled once more, wishing that this sick image was reality. There was no doubt in his mind that Victor's pain would be something he craved, he knew that Victor deserved to feel some pain of his own before he handed it out to everyone else. "Do you want to take another look?" he asked, wanting to see what John did when he looked into the mirror. John nodded excitedly, letting Sherlock step out of the way and gazing into the glass. Sherlock couldn't see what he saw, but he noticed John's fingers twitching, as if his reflection was holding someone's hand, and John blushed a little bit, titling his head as if someone had just kissed him on the cheek. Was this someone Sherlock? Was John hoping beyond hope that he could hold Sherlock's hand; did he crave to be kissed on the cheek? Sherlock was almost tempted to go for it, but the memory of Victor prevented him from getting more tangled in complicated relationships. Then again, it was be really nice to actually be with someone that made him happy.
"That's one wild mirror." John decided.
"What do you see?" Sherlock asked rather awkwardly.
"I see you, I told you that." John agreed.
"What am I doing?" Sherlock asked.
"Well...you're just kind of standing there, smiling at me." John decided. Sherlock raised his eyebrows doubtfully, but nodded.
"You were talking. Not really a surprise." Sherlock lied, thinking of Victor, bleeding out on the stone.
"I don't talk too much, do I?" John asked kind of worriedly, as if he didn't want Sherlock to think he was annoying.
"No, not really." Sherlock admitted. "More than I do, but not really."
"It has a name right, engraved up there?" John asked.
"Ya, the mirror of Erised." Sherlock agreed rather reluctantly. Even though John didn't go to Hogwarts, Sherlock had no idea what he might know about this mirror, and if he knew the truth, well, that might get a little bit awkward.
"So, any other cool things around the school I might want to see?" Sherlock asked.
"Unless old desks fascinate you, not really. I'm bound to find some cool things, and McGonagall warned me about an old boggart wandering around near the top levels. I suppose they hide in closets and what not, project your worst fear." John shrugged.
"And what do you think your worst fear is?" Sherlock asked. John shrugged, looking at the ground as if he knew exactly what it might be.
"Being a squib, I don't know, I'm kind of living everyone's worst fear. Loneliness, I suppose, but a boggart can't really change into a feeling." John decided.
"Well, I'm not going to let you be lonely, not if I can help it." Sherlock insisted.
"Don't worry about me, worry about yourself, get away from Victor." John pointed out. Sherlock looked back at the mirror, where his reflection had grabbed Victor by the neck of his robes, pulling him up so that he could say something very soft and intimidatingly. If only.
"Well, that might be difficult, but I'm trying." Sherlock insisted.
"I told you that kid was rotten at the core." John pointed out.
"Well, I suppose you're a much better judge of character than I am." Sherlock sighed.
"Not really." John muttered. Sherlock stepped out of the range of the mirror just as his reflection cracked Victor's head against the stone wall. He didn't really want to see any brains at the moment, no matter who's they were.
"What was I doing just then?" John asked, craning his neck as if to see. He was probably wondering if Sherlock's reflection pals were doing the same as his, to make sure he wasn't crazy.
"Still talking." Sherlock assured with a small smile.
"You want to go kick the football around?" John offered.
"I swear, I'll be rubbish." Sherlock pointed out.
"I doubt that, I mean, sure you suck at flying, and hand eye coordination, and I suppose depth perception...but I'm sure you'll be fine." John said with an enthusiastic smile.
"You should really be a motivational speaker." Sherlock offered.
"My guidance counselor saw hope for me there." John agreed.
"Your what?" Sherlock asked.
"Someone whose job it is to tell you what to do with your life. Muggles have them, they're quite annoying. Little did they know I wasn't going into business and law, but magical janitorial services." John said with a rather excited gleam in his eye.
"You'll do better around here than caretaker, one day maybe you can be grounds keepers." Sherlock offered.
"No, I'd be scared to live alone that close to the forest." John muttered.
"You wouldn't have to live alone." Sherlock pointed out.
"Who am I supposed to bring, my family?" John laughed.
"I don't know who you're supposed to bring, you just wouldn't be alone." Sherlock shrugged, his cheeks blushing just a little bit.
"What, oh, you want to come?" John asked.
"It would be like, a forever slumber party." Sherlock shrugged. John just laughed, looking out the window over to Hagrid's hut, which had smoke coming cheerfully out of the chimney.
"That's the best explanation I've ever heard of marriage." He decided.
"I didn't say we were getting married." Sherlock laughed.
"Well, I'm never going to be grounds keeper, I'm caretaker, and I'm right where I want to be. They give me a house and everything, it's perfect." He decided.
"I wonder, if you have a family, what you do when you have to come to teach? I mean, you don't bring them along, do you?" Sherlock asked.
"Have you seen our staff? None of them are married." John decided. Sherlock just laughed, surprised at John's wit.
"There was always a rumor that McGonagall and Dumbledore had a thing." he pointed out. John shivered in disgust, sticking his tongue out as if not even wanting to imagine that.
"Nah, I think Dumbledore is gay." He decided. Sherlock raised his eyebrows in surprise, that had never something he's heard.
"What makes you say that?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh, well, Sprout was kind of interrogating me about, well, you, and she insisted that we have gay people all over the place, in positions of power and everything." He shrugged.
"Sprout thinks we're together?" Sherlock asked.
"I can only assume." John shrugged.
"She was there with McGonagall when I went to ask directions, she told McGonagall that we were together as well." Sherlock agreed.
"What did you say?" John asked.
"Nothing." Sherlock lied. "I like to make them think that I accomplished at least something in my life."
"You think I'd be an accomplishment?" John asked, rather flustered.
"See, my flirting's not that bad." Sherlock pointed out.
"Oh boo, don't get my hopes up." John whined.
"What, you think we'd be cute together. Total opposites, I suppose it might work, appearance wise." Sherlock shrugged.
"I always thought you and Victor would look cute together, but then again, you know, that's kind of mentally scarring." John decided. Sherlock just laughed, if only John knew.
"Ya, definitely scarring." He agreed, not seeming to be able to look John in the eyes.
"So, football? Now that the...terribly awkward conversation is over." John offered.
"Ya, sounds good bu I have to warn you, I have no skills whatsoever. At anything." Sherlock pointed out.
"You're pretty good at being bad at everything, that's not something you see everyday." John decided with a shrug. Sherlock just slapped him, walking past the mirror once more and seeing Victor lying bloodied on the floor, but he was looking out of the mirror, as if seeing Sherlock walking past, smiling... The two of them walked down the stairs, back to John's floor, obviously not being too careful. Sherlock, in fact, was too engulfed at staring at the back of John's head and wondering what was going on in his brain, behind that thick skull and golden hair. Was he actually thinking that something between them could work out, was he hoping that something between them might spark? A small, hopeful voice in the back of Sherlock's brain said yes, but the more logical part of him shut it up. There was no time for hope; there was only revenge on the one person that was making his life a big game of chutes and ladders. Every time he saw John he went up a ladder, every time he saw Victor, down he went on a slide, and he just could seem to win the bloody game.