Ch. 8: The Great Game

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A/N: I'm sorry for the terrible pun in the chapter title but I couldn't resist. Anyways, this is about the quidditch match between John and Sherlock ahem -cough cough- I mean between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Also this chapter is for the_doctor_and_i because she (?) voted for all the chapters of this story. So thanks for that. I'm glad you like it.

Chapter 8:

Quidditch. The sport revered by all wizards - pureblood, halfblood, and muggleborn alike. The air in the Great Hall was quivering with anticipation. John Watson however, was quivering with fear. John was terrified. He'd never been so nervous in his whole life, not even when Sherlock had caught his hair on fire in Charms class last week as part of an "experiment". John had searched the Great Hall for Sherlock, but had no luck. "Can't even come to wish me luck on the biggest day of my life. That's Sherlock for you." John grumbled to himself. Matter of fact, Sherlock just might've wished John luck, if he had been able to do so without spoiling the surprise. Sherlock was in his dormitory pulling on his blue quidditch robes. And then - it was time. The Gryffindor team captain (who's name John couldn't remember) motioned for the team to rise. John stood, and followed the rest of the team out onto the quidditch pitch. The Ravenclaw team was waiting for them. John stared at the Ravenclaw team, sizing them up when- 'No, surely my eyes are deceiving me!' John rubbed his eyes. He wasn't dreaming or seeing things. Sherlock Holmes stood across from him on the quidditch pitch. 'You cock!' John thought. Sherlock smirked, as if reading John's thoughts. John turned his attention to the two team captains shaking hands. He mounted his broom and then they were off. John was exhilarated. He flew up to the middle goal post and waited for someone to try and score. Sherlock decided to have a little fun with John. He flew up right in front of John. "Enjoying yourself?" Sherlock asked, smirking. "You dick!" John hissed. "Why didn't you tell me you were on the team?" "That would've spoiled the surprise." Sherlock said, as if it was obvious. John was just about to give Sherlock another piece of his mind when Sherlock suddenly dived and made a sharp turn to the left. 'The snitch!' John thought. The Gryffindor seeker, who had been circling above the arena dove too, and raced after Sherlock. John was so intently focused on the race for the snitch, he didn't see the quaffle headed straight for the left goal post until it was almost too late. John swerved the broomstick in front of the goal post just in time. He hit the quaffle with the back end of the broomstick, sending it soaring into the arms of a Gryffindor chaser, who gave him a thumbs up before setting off to the other side of the field. John's eyes quickly darted back to Sherlock and the Gryffindor seeker, racing each other across the field. Sherlock dived suddenly, and the Gryffindor seeker followed suit. Sherlock then pulled up hard and stretched his hand out. 'He's gonna catch the snitch!' John thought. Sherlock's hand closed around the wriggling, gold ball triumphantly. He pulled up on his broomstick and rose until he was at the top of the arena. He showed off the snitch, and the Ravenclaws in the stands and on the team burst into cheers. John's heart sank because Gryffindor lost, but he was also proud of Sherlock and happy for him. John was just glad that the great game was finally over.

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