[ON HOLD] Unanswerable (A Potter!Lock Fanfic)

Chapter Three

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~BB
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I returned to the Ravenclaw common room without John. Yes, I had hoped that he would be joining me in my house and I was disappointed.

I was also happy, however, that he had been graced with the house of his choice. But the Gryffindors were always the popular ones who made friends easily. John would meet other people and forget about me. I would become that kid in the back of the classroom who he use to talk to.

As a prefect, I had been asked to come to the Ravenclaw Tower before attending the Welcome Ceremony. I was to meet the other Fifth Year Ravenclaw prefect.

I arrived at the door and used the brass eagle knocker to knock on the door. I had always wondered why it wasn't a raven, for that was the animal that gave the house it's name. The metal bird spun to life and smirked at me. "Ah, Mr. Holmes. Our second prefect. You should find it interesting to see who already lies inside, but first riddle me this: Poor people have it, rich people need it. If you eat it you die."

Sherlock smiled. Simple. "Nothing," he responded.

The eagle frowned, upset that he had still not been able to beat me. The door opened and I was let inside. Oh how I had missed this place.

I had carried a smile on my face, seeing the familiar paintings and furniture. That was, of course, until I saw who the other prefect was.

"Anderson? You? A prefect?" I scoffed. Anderson hardly belonged in Ravenclaw, much less should he be a prefect for the house.

"Holmes. I expected as much. You're Dumbledore's favorite student," Anderson sneered.

We had a falling out in our first week of being in Hogwarts. He had made fun of the fact that my father was dead. I might not work for human resources, to say the least, but I knew that that was not something you're suppose to laugh at. I may have hit him, but in the end it was him who had gotten in trouble. We have hated each other since. I have called him Anderson since that day, to the point where I don't even remember his first name.

"Why on earth would he make you a prefect?" I sat down in an armchair, exasperated. I still could not fathom the idea of Anderson telling people what to do.

"Apparently I am trustworthy and intelligent," Anderson said. "At least that's what it said when I got my letter."

I clenched my teeth. Anderson was anything but trustworthy and intelligent. This wasn't fair. Only last year, the idiot had made fun of the older prefects.

"I think we're done chatting," Anderson chuckled, making his way out of the common room. "But do not forget this, Sherlock Holmes. I'm going to make this year Hell for you."

With that he left. If he thought he could intimidate me, he was wrong. I was used to Mycroft's friends bullying me. Earlier in the summer, I had been their punching bag, while Mycroft sat on the couch and watched. I had come out with a black eye and a fractured rib that had never been cared for. I knew pain and I knew that Anderson couldn't hurt me.

I took a deep breath before I too left the common room and started making my way to the Dining Hall.

On the way there, I pulled out my prefect's badge and fastened it to my robes. The paintings started whispering about me, "There's our Sherlock Holmes....a prefect now?...my, how he grew up...too bad he's so lonely."