volume thirteen — potterlock.

greetings, sherlockians.

today we bring you a crossover

of two of the most iconic fandoms

ever — sherlock and harry potter.

i myself am an avid potterhead, so

this edition was magical to make

happen. it seems like a lot of people

who enjoy sherlock also enjoy harry

potter, so i do hope that’s the case here!

also, a side note. we’re starting a

QOTW (question of the week), this

weeks question is: what is your hogwarts

house? make sure to leave your

answer in the comment section below.

table of contents

crack the case

art

stories

edit

reminder

poll

outro

crack the case

A magician and her daughter Annette were traveling performers, going from place to place.

Once in the middle of September, they stopped in a motel in a small city called Bakerville. They stayed there for a few days, just long enough for Annette to get her doctor checkup and for her mother, Scarlet to get a new haircut.

Scarlet had a peculiarity though: she would always hide Annette from the outside world and tried to have as few people as possible see her.

One day she left Annette in their room to go buy groceries and told her to call the maid if anything happened.

When she came back, the room was just like it had been before Scarlet left. There was only one difference: Annette and all her belongings had disappeared. When Scarlet checked the room records, they showed that she had checked in alone.

What happened? Why did Annette disappear? Place your guess in the comments.

art

「 lee 」

「 moriarty 」

「 jimmy :) 」

story one

by sceibbles

“John!”

No no no no no no, this can not be happening. Sherlock frantically felt around on the cold ground, searching for his wand that he had unconsciously dropped when he saw the dementors approach. His hand caught on twigs and leaves, everything except for his wand, the one thing he needed most in the world right now. He glanced over to where he last saw John and felt his heart drop in his chest.

John--strong John, his best friend in the whole world--was lying on the ground, scraped, bruised, and unconscious. John--the brave, wonderful idiot-- thought that he could protect Sherlock from the dementors. He was a fourth year, one year older than Sherlock, and had not yet mastered casting a patronus. And yet, for some reason, when he saw the dememtors approaching he had pushed Sherlock to the ground and ran ahead of him, wand raised and a scream on his lips.

Now the dementors were gathering over John’s still body, preparing to suck the soul, the very essence of John, out of John. Sherlock pounded a fist on the ground, trying to blink away the tears threatening to fall from his eyes. I just need my wand, Sherlock thought, still feeling along the rough ground frantically. He could feel the cold, sad presence of the dementors seeping through his clothes, through his skin, to the very marrow of his bones. The tears started to fall; he wanted to curl up on the ground and mourn the loss that he would undoubtedly face. How was he supposed to save John if his wand was missing?

Another glance at his friend told Sherlock that he was conscious now; he was slowly, bravely trying to pull himself away from the dementors. It wasn’t working. Sherlock turned away from the scene, breathing in short, panicked gasps. He had to find his wand; he needed it more than anything he had ever needed in his life. Saving John was his number one priority. Sherlock still needed to teach John how to deduce someone at the drop of a hat; he needed John to teach him how to be better at Quidditch so they could strategize together for the team and bring them to victory.

Just as the dementors closed in on John, Sherlock’s hand curled around something that gave him a familiar feeling of warmth and home. My wand! Yanking himself up into a standing position, Sherlock pointed his wand at the dementors and conjured up all the happy thoughts he could; Christmases spent at the school with John, Greg, and his insufferable brother that he still loved. Trips to Hogsmeade with that same quartet of people, pulling harmless pranks on other students. The first that that Sherlock had met his best friend in the entire world. The day he first received his letter for Hogwarts.

“Expecto patronum!” In a big flash of light, a silvery otter burst from the end of his wand, cutting gracefully through the air towards the dementors. Sherlock didn’t wait to see if the dementors were actually leaving; he didn’t care enough to check. Instead, he sprinted towards John, throwing himself onto the ground beside his best friend, eyes flitting over his body to make sure he was okay. John smiled weakly at him and pushed himself off the ground, flinching a little bit in the process.

“Of course you’ve mastered the patronus charm already, why am I surprised?” Sherlock rolled his eyes and threw his arms around John, giving him a few hard pats on the back before pulling away and punching John on the arm. John let out a chuckle, rubbing the spot on his arm that he was punched. He stuck his bottom lip out in a fake pout.

“Don’t ever risk your life like that again, John Watson, or I will find a way to bring you back to life so I can kill you myself,” Sherlock said coldly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. John laughed loudly before clapping a hand Sherlock on the shoulder and squeezing.

“Oh, don’t bother. I know that you were worried about me. If I died, who would be around to tell you how brilliant you are?” Sherlock glared at him, and John faked a look of complete innocence. He punched John once more, right in the same spot, and John let out a small ‘ouch.’ Sherlock, giving him a pointed look that said maybe don’t risk your life next time and you won’t get punched, grabbed John’s arm and placed it over his shoulders, hauling the older boy up onto his feet. John just scoffed, smiled, and put his arm around Sherlock, leaning on him. As the boys walked away, you could hear them good-naturedly arguing with each other.

“I promise that I’ll be more careful next time. Just help me get to the Hospital Wing, will you?”

“That’s what I’m doing right now John.”

“Bugger off, Sherlock.”

“I thought you wanted me to help you get to the Hospital Wing, John. You really must make up your mind.”

“I can’t deal with your sass right now, so shut your bloody mouth and help me walk to where I need to go.”

“Alright John, I’ll be quiet.”

“Oh, and Sherlock?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you. For saving me.”

story two

by gwyn

To say that John wasn’t expecting what he found out when he arrived at Hogwarts isn’t enough.

He could physically feel his stomach dropping to his feet, with no hope of returning to its right place anytime soon.

John Hamish Watson didn’t hate Hogwarts at all, in fact, the castle held an important place in his heart. Even when most of the classes weren’t very enjoyable (he liked Defence Against the Dark Arts though), the school was a better place than his home, where he was bullied constantly and had to get through every day, struggling with two really unive parents.

He was a Gryffindor, and he carried that pride everywhere. He did get on well with his classmates, but didn’t have any close friends. It was a bit disappointing, but not that it mattered so much, he was used to it. And as a fifth year student, there wasn’t much school left for him anymore. Just two years more.

However, the dismay floored him when the current heaster announced that they were going to have the students mixed, so that there would be a “bonding” outside the frontiers of their houses. The students would have classes with their own house, but anything else would be all mixed up.

As fifth year hadn't much male students, around four, there wasn’t much room for a change. Luckily he got to stay in his own common room thank god, but when he stepped in after dinner, shuffling his feet sleepily, he found a Ravenclaw student lying in the bed next to his, an open book sitting on his stomach, forgotten by the moment, as the boy swished his wand mindlessly through the air, carving something in the wood of the bunk bed above him. John noticed, impressed, that he wasn’t moving his lips at all.

The young Gryffindor threw himself in his bed with a loud sigh, and from the corner of his eye, he saw that the boy was eyeing him warily as well, so he thought it appropriate to say

― uhh… Hi― . Great, so awkward, just great.

The boy tilted his head now, giving John a better view of a sharp face matted with black curly hair, prominent cheekbones, penetrant eyes and a stern look.

― Hello― he said, nonchalantly.

― So…― John struggled to form the words― What’s your name?

― Sherlock.

John raised his eyebrows at the peculiar name, but said nothing about it, instead, he presented himself with a shy smile.

The boy, Sherlock, stared at him intently and then returned his gaze to the book now in his hands, while flipping the pages quietly.

The dormitory gained its previous silence, and John soon after got into bed, as there was no more room for talking.

The days ed by and the classes were harder than ever, the teachers were loading them with homework to practice for their OWLS at the end of the year, so John spent most of his time in the library, buried under tons of books next to the rest of his classmates. Regardless of this, Sherlock didn’t seem to be as hysterical as the rest of the students. As John noticed, Sherlock spent most of his time reading in the library as well, but books about defence against the dark arts, advanced potions, exotic creatures, nothing that had to do with what he should be studying.

John hadn’t talked much to the dark haired boy since then, but their interactions were more frequent than those with the rest of his roommates, a short Slytherin and a white haired Hufflepuff. Furthermore, John had taken a liking to the mysterious boy.

However, it was a surprise ― and rather a bad one― when Sherlock shook him awake in the middle of the night, clasping John’s mouth shut with his hand before he could produce a sound.

For that moment the boy was already fully awake, but really pissed. It couldn’t be past four am, which meant he’d only managed to sleep for about three hours before the Ravenclaw student woke him up.

John shot Sherlock a death glare, but the boy completely ignored the unsaid message. His eyes were shining with…. Excitment?

The sand haired boy sat up in the bed and looked at the taller boy, curiosity now written all over his face.

Sherlock handed him a previously written message in a piece of yellowish parchment, still not wanting to produce a sound.

The paper read “Meet me downstairs”.

As soon as Sherlock made sure John had read the message, he pocketed it and rushed out of the room.

John sat on his bed of a couple of minutes, staring at the dark, his sleepy brain still processing what had happened. Then, he suddenly snap out of it, and got dressed as quickly as he could without waking anyone up.

As he took the stairs two steps at a time John could see the taller boy’s shape standing next to the almost dead fire. When he reached him, Sherlock turned around and let go of a relieved sigh.

― I almost thought you wouldn’t come―.

John cocked his head slightly, and shot Sherlock an inquisitive look. The boy seemed to regain a bit of composure, and he shifted his frame to a cockier one.

― You up to some adventure?

The shorter boy could feel excitement prickling over his feet as if they wanted to go and run on their own. Not that he wanted to do something very different; this was an opportunity to do something not boring. John didn’t even think about the risks before saying

― Oh god yes.

Sherlock smirked, visibly pleased. Then, promptly launched to explain John what they were going to do.

As soon as he finished, they were off.

………………………………………………………………………

Hours later, barely minutes left for sunrise, John smiled to himself as he turned in bed. That had been amazing. He couldn’t count with his fingers the number of spells he had learned from Sherlock that day. Since they had left the castle to get into the forbidden forest, his body had gone into autopilot, adrenaline rushing through his veins. They had gotten rid of a freaking banshee. How amazing is that? John was ecstatic.

What he wasn’t aware of, as he drifted to sleep, was that this fifteen year old adventure was the beginning of a friendship that would last a lifetime.

edit

this week, we have haru, who has brought us two gif edits featuring john and sherlock, and their perceived houses.

reminder

our survey is still open, and it would be amazing if you could fill it out !! it’s completely anonymous, and will help us to be the best we can be.

click here to fill it out

poll

tba

outro

thank you so much for reading this weeks editon of #theemptyhearse, till next time, NOX! have a splendid day.