Elisabeth Eurus Holmes...Or was it Potter?

Chapter 6

It was our fourth year at Hogwarts. James and Sirius had become brothers in everything but blood, James had asked his housemate, Lily Evans, to go out with him practically every time he was her, Remus and a weird porky boy had joined James and Sirius in their group, calling themselves the Marauders. The porky boy-whose name started with a P but I couldn't remember for the life of me, James and Sirius were working on becoming animagi to help Remus in his monthly transformations (although they didn't know I knew) and I was top of the year, once again.

This year, the majority of my classes were with the Gryffindors. I entered the Defence classroom, my brother and his friends in tow.

"Eurus! Come sit with us!" James called, waving me over. I smiled slightly before sitting into the empty seat beside Sirius. James was the only one to call me by my middle name, but it was something he had done ever since we were kids. Although I would never admit it, I preferred him calling me that as the name held sentimental value, reminding me of my past life.

"Wands out, class. Today, we have a practical lesson. I know this topic was taught to you last year but, I thought we could start with something fun." I frowned as he brought out a rattling trunk. A boggart. Brilliant. Last year I managed to avoid facing it, excusing myself from the class as I had 'lady problems to attend to'.

"Could everyone please get into a line. As you already know the countercurse, I will not be demonstrating it."

I was near the back, watching as people faced their fears, heights, spiders, mummies, banshees, even parents but I knew mine. Mine wasn't like the others.

CRACK!

A little girl, around the age of 5 sat in an aeroplane, the oxygen masks dangling in front. She slowly got up, turning to her mother.

"Mummy? Mummy? Wake up! Mummy!" The girl began to panic. She slowly left her isle, noticing how everyone else wasn't awake either.

"Wake up!" 

As she progressed toward the cockpit where she could see an arm dangling, a ringing broke the eerie silence. The girl quickly picked it up from the old man's pocket.

"Help me, please! I'm on a plane and everyone is asleep! Help Me!" The girl cried in near hysterics. 

There was a static sound before heavy breathing could be heard.

"Hello, my name's Jim Moriarty. Welcome, to the Final Problem." 

His chilling voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

Not again.

"Riddikulus!" I said loudly, banishing the boggart and, with another loud crack, the plane was replaced by the living room of 221B Baker Street. Most people were there, all dressed in somewhat fancy clothes as it was the night of Christmas.

"So, I see you've got a new boyfriend Molly, and you're serious about him." My brother started.

"W-what?" Molly spluttered in surprise, nearly spilling her glass of wine.

"And you're seeing him this very night and giving him a gift!"

"Take a day off, Sherlock," John muttered, clearly fed up.

"Shut up and have a drink," Lestrade said loudly, placing a glass of whiskey in front of Sherlock.

"Oh come on! Surely you've all seen the present at the top of the bag. Perfectly wrapped, with a bow while all the others are slap dashed at best." Sherlock began walking over to the bag of gifts Molly had brought. "Must be someone special then. The shade of red echoes the lipstick, either an unconscious association or one that she's deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has love on her mind. The fact that she's serious about a relationship is clear from the fact that she is giving him a gift at all, that always suggests long-term hopes, however forlorn. And that she's seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she's wearing, obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts-" My brother trailed off, reading who it was for. I smirked, silently shipping the two although I knew Molly had to say something someday because Sherlock is really oblivious when it comes to things like this.

"You always say such horrible things...Always. Always. Always."

"I-I'm sorry. Forgive me." Sherlock said. "Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper." He said kissing her cheek. As he pulled away, there was a god-awful moan.

"Oh! I didn't-That wasn't me-" Molly stuttered, red in the face.

"No, it was me," Sherlock said, making me smirk in both the memory and real life.

"My God, really?" Lestrade said surprise and humour colouring his voice.

"It was my phone." He said, trying to justify himself.

"Sure it was, keep telling yourself that, brother dearest."