"John! John, what did you do?!"

John looked up from the fire, where Hudson (their little flame-heart) was burning brightly away, to see Sherlock stumble down the stairs, in nothing but a towel.

"Sherlock, Put on a Robe!"


"I did nothing, Sherlock, I just straightened up a bit, Hamish helped me-"

"My Potions! My Spells! You ruined them all!" He collapsed in a chair, and John rose an eyebrow.

"Sherlock, really-" He broke away, eyes wide as Sherlock's hair faded from its brilliant blonde collar, to a dark black.

"What's the use in living If I can't look the way I need to…" Sherlock mumbled, and then the whole moving castle ("It's the 221st of the B set in the Bakers Street Collection, Best Moving Castle you could ask for!") Started to shudder, and slow.

"Sherlock, Stop this!" John yelled, and then turned to Hamish, who was standing by Hudson. "Help me clean this up!" He snapped as things started to fall, and break and crash around the melodramatic magician.