So... Me and my partner-in-crime should probably apologise for such a delay. I just got access to my old computer and found the chapters that we never uploaded...Enjoy! :D

The first lesson of the year was not going so well….

Where in god's name was John supposed to find a partner?

The boy sat alone in the centre of the room. How had he not noticed by now? He didn't know a single person in this class. He glared daggers at the frizzy haired professor, who was currently sitting at her desk, predicting the grades of her students through tealeaves. He sighed and dragged himself up from his seat, in a vain attempt to find a partner for the year. By the looks of things, everyone had already partnered off. Wonderful. He groaned in resignation. Clearly, this year was going to suck.

That was when he noticed a lone figure, crouched over a table in the corner of the room, reading the class text book by the look of things. John walked over to the boy nervously. He was bizarrely pale, with jet black hair hanging in loose curls which concealed his eyes. A blue and silver tie hung loosely from the boys' neck, marking him out as a Ravenclaw. John cleared his throat, but the boy didn't look.

"Hi….I'm John. John Wa-"

"John Watson." Interrupted the strange boy, without taking his eyes off the text. "I know."

John frowned. "…how did you know?"

The boys sighed and looked up; his piercing green eyes staring at him, a slight smirk crossed his face. "I know that your full name is John H. Watson. Obviously you're a sixth year Gryffindor. You've previously been the chaser for your houses quidditch team, with intentions of continuing the role this year. You're muggle born, and you family has a rather abysmal income, judging by your hand-me-down robes. Which I can attain previously belonged to your older sister, because of the stretch marks around the chest area."

For a moment, John was speechless. "How is it that you know all of this stuff about me, but I don't know a single thing about you?"

The boy's smirk turned into a grin. "Because John, you see but you don't observe."

The mysterious boy closed his book, giving John his full attention. "So. I suppose were to be partners now. Sit down." It sounded more like an order than a request, but regardless, John took the seat next to his new partner. "The names Sherlock by the way. Sherlock Holmes."

"It's a pleasure to meet you." John replied, more out of habit than anything. Sherlock didn't respond; he was simply gazing absent mindedly at a set of crystals hanging from the window. John suddenly felt very uncomfortable. "…That was amazing by the way."

A look of total confusion crossed Sherlock's face. "What?"

"That. That whole thing you did was…amazing."

"Really? That not what people normally say."

"What do people normally say?"

" 'Professor, the freaks doing it again' "

John didn't know whether to laugh or feel pity for the strange boy, thankfully his train of thought was interrupted as Professor Trewlaney began her lesson. As she described the importance of dreams as a representation of the soul, Sherlock leaned over and whispered into the ear of his partner. "It's a whole load of rot you know. Dreams are illogical; they can't be interpreted as a form of prophecy. It's a ridiculous notion."

John stiffened as he felt Sherlock's breath down his neck; he refused to let it bother him and simply leaned back. "If you dislike it so much then why take the lesson?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"Too prove a point."

"And what would that be?"

"…that I don't live in my brothers' shadow."

John was about to question the ominous response, but he was interrupted a second time by the bespeckled professor who handed them both Dream Journals, to keep for the next few months.

"Wonderful." John heard Sherlock mutter, as he threw the journal into his satchel.

Sherlock was silent for most of the lesson. When John was frantically scribbling notes of dream interpretation, Sherlock was just watching. Watching the professor, watching his classmates, but more often than not, it was John he was watching. John could see Sherlock staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and frankly it was starting to creep him out. Eventually, John cracked:

"Why aren't you taking notes?"

"Don't need to." Sherlock replied simply.

"But….why not? Don't you think Trewlaney will be mad?"

"Me and the professors have an….understanding. Besides, I have a photographic memory. It makes taking notes a rather pointless task. Don't you think?"

"Er…I guess so."

They sat in an uncomfortable silence for the rest of the lesson.

"No, Lestrade. He was just a bit….strange."

Lestrade casually leaned over John, grabbing a bread roll from the wicker basket in front of him. "Well" He begun, as he took a bite. "Can't you just ask the professor for a different partner?"

"But that seems rude…besides, everyone else in the class already has a partner."

"I wish I could help you mate. But it looks like you're stuck with him for the year. What was his name again?"

"Sherlock Holmes."


"Yeah, why? Ring a bell?"

"Yeah but….Hey, there's Milly. I'm gonna go say hi okay?"

"Sure." He replied, as Lestrade walked over to the Slytherin table. It wasn't unusual for him to split his lunch between sitting with John at the Gryffindor table, and spending time with his cousin.

John continued eating his lunch in silence, occasionally speaking to the Weasley brothers, Charlie and Percy, who were warning the Gryffindors about the dangers of their twin brothers.

John jumped as someone abruptly sat down beside him. He lifted his head to find Sherlock next to him, surveying the food with a look of pure distain.


"Hello again, John."

"….What -?"

"My brother says I have to eat lunch today. However, the company on the Ravenclaw table is less than satisfactory, so I thought I'd eat here instead."

"… Alright then, I don't mind."

John tried to think of something to say to the odd Ravenclaw, but was drawing a blank. He looked over to find that Sherlock's plate was still empty, and instead of eating, the boy was simply watching the other students. His eyes flickered from table to table, as though he was trying to figure out something important. Eventually, curiosity got the better of him.

"What are you looking at?"

Sherlock blinked, a confused look on his face, looking as though he had just been woken from a trance. "…Nothing in particular."

"Now, now, Shirley. We both know that's not true."

Both boys looked up, John looking startled and Sherlock glowering. The owner of that soft, almost sickeningly feminine voice was a tall, tanned Ravenclaw girl. Her dark brown hair hanging in loose curls which she flicked over her shoulder as she crossed her arms and leaned towards Sherlock, a smirk on her lipstick smeared lips.

She took the seat opposite them, the seat Greg had only just left. "When he has that particular look on his face, it means that he's just worked out something interesting."

John raised an eyebrow, addressing Sherlock "Who's this?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"The Woman." Sherlock replied simply, still glaring intensely.

"… Does she have a name?"

"More than likely. I believe that's the norm."

'The Woman' laughed, a smug sound which John instantly hated. "Oh Sherlock, honey. You know you're only bitter because of the OWL results. The fact that I beat you in Astronomy must-"

"I'm doing ALL of the NEWTS this year. One minor imperfection won't bother me."

"And you'll still barely pass Astronomy." She turned her attention to John. "The name's Irene, handsome. Irene Adler."

"H-Hi," stammered John, not used to female attention.

Sherlock simply rolled his eyes dramatically. "Ignore her. I hear these sorts tend to get bored without an audience."

Irene winked as she got up from the table, blowing a kiss towards Sherlock. "Ciao honey."

Sherlock glared at the girl as she returned to the Ravenclaw table. "I told you."

"She seems nice. A friend of yours?"

"No. I don't do those."

"Oh. Right… girlfriend? She was flirting with you an awful lot."

Sherlock openly winced, something that seemed almost too theatrical for the otherwise icy boy. "No. Definitely not. Not really my area."

"Oh." John looked down, blushing slightly. He had never met… someone like that before. "S-so… no girls?"

"No. They're annoying. Especially her; the heinous whore."

John giggled into his soup. Wait, what? He didn't giggle. Since when did he start giggling?

Sherlock seemed pleased by this, and he finally grabbed a roll of bread. "It's no good, Watson. It's too quiet. We need adventure."


"Yes. We."