Chapter Text
The first time John Watson met Sherlock Holmes, it was five years too early. It was a nice day, and John's mother had decided to treat her kids to something special, so they took a train right into the heart of London to spend the day there.
Unaware of the Watsons' plans, Mrs. Holmes had also decided to take a train to Central London, taking her two sons with her. Usually, they would've taken the, well, usual way, but Sherlock had a tendency to end up somewhere else every single time – everyone thought he was just too young to get it right, but his mother had the feeling he did it on purpose, just to get a look at strange places – and she didn't like going by car. It was just so… ordinary. So train it was. Admittedly, not less ordinary, but at least Sherlock would stay by her side and was entertained by the other people on the train. Mycroft was easier to handle, he was a calm child, sometimes a bit too calm, but he knew how to behave and seeing as she had a lot of trouble with her younger son, she was grateful for her older son's attitude.
When Mrs. Holmes had finally managed to find seats for her boys and herself on the quite crowded train, she allowed herself a small sigh before sitting down, Mycroft across her and Sherlock next to her. With a jerk, the train started moving and someone chose that exact moment to push open the door of their compartment and she looked up, just like Sherlock did.
"Mum! Here's room for us!" A small blond boy called out, grinning excitedly back down the aisle and then back into their compartment. Then, a woman appeared behind him, a girl next to her, and she smiled into the compartment at Mrs. Holmes. "Hi, sorry, but are these seats taken?"
Mrs. Holmes smiled back and made a gesture indicating they should sit down.
"Thanks!" The strange woman breathed out and gently pushed the boy inside before following. The boy looked at Mycroft's rather bored face for a moment, before giving Sherlock a small smile and climbing into the seat next to him.
"Hi! I'm John!"
Sherlock just stared at him, until his mother nudged him and then said in an apologizing voice. "I'm sorry, he sometimes doesn't speak all day. Then, on other days, he barely stops. This is Sherlock, Mycroft-" she nodded over to her older son, "and I'm Cassiopeia Holmes." Looking at the woman now sitting next to Mycroft, she added "Most people just call me Cassy," with a smile. Of course, no one ever called her Cassy and she sincerely hoped Sherlock would stay quiet about it, but he seemed transfixed by the blonde's son, who stared back, just the tiniest bit uneasy.
"Nice to meet you!" The blonde smiled. "I'm Mary, this is Harriet," she pointed to the girl next to her, "and that's obviously John."
And that's all conversation the women had besides exchanging the usual pleasantries like 'Where are you going' and so on. Harriet and Mycroft were really quiet, too, but Sherlock and John actually talked to each other. Well, at first, it was just John who did the talking.
"Sherlock? That's a weird name." Sherlock never reacted and John thought he maybe had insulted the other boy and before he could get a scolding by his mum, he quickly added: "I like it, though." Still no reply, but John thought maybe Sherlock's eyes, weirdly grey-silverish, lost a bit of their hardness. "How old are you? I'm five, but I'll be six soon!" Sherlock still didn't reply, until his mother nudged him again and he actually sighed, sighed like usually only grown-ups did. "I'm five, too."
It's the first time John heard Sherlock's voice and he instantly liked it. For the next ten minutes, he kept asking questions and told Sherlock random things, but the other boy never did so much as answer with yes or no. Finally, when John was running out of topics to talk about – he's five, after all – he thought of one last thing to ask. "What do you want to be when you're older? I wanna be a doctor!"
Harriet snorted from her seat next to their mother and John pouted before simply grabbing Sherlock's wrist and pulling, the other boy following with a surprised look on his face. But he wasfollowing. They took the seat that was furthest away from their families, a bit crunched up together in that small space, but John's eyes were sparkling now and Sherlock decided he liked the small blond. "So, I wanna be a doctor, but Harry makes fun of me for it," John whispered, leaning in a bit and one of Sherlock's dark curls touched his forehead, soft and warm. "What do you want to be?" John didn't even seem to care about their closeness, he just eyed Harry and Mycroft carefully before adding softly. "I won't make fun of you. I promise."
Sherlock contemplated – as much as a five year old could – for a while before whispering back: "I want to be a pirate."
John's eyes widened and for a moment Sherlock thought the blond was going to laugh, but then his reply came. "That… is… awesome!"
And just like that, they were engrossed in a conversation about the probability of getting a pirate ship and sailing it down the Thames.
When they reached King's Cross, both families said goodbye and the Holmes' walked away at a fast pace, not giving Sherlock or John time to exchange addresses or anything, but Sherlock found himself staring back at John's slowly disappearing figure in the crowd.
The Watsons' spent a great day in the city and when John was back in his bed and tucked in, he sleepily thought of the strange boy with the silver eyes and wondered if he was going to see him again, before he finally fell asleep.
The Holmes' had a quite successful day, too. After all, it was the first day they entered Diagon Alley, the three of them. Because in September, Mycroft would start his first year at Hogwarts.
In the evening of that day, both women, Mary and Cassiopeia, heard about a strange incident that happened while they were busy in London, but while Mary didn't think anything of it, Cassiopeia smiled. Apparently the Thames had turned bright green for just a while before returning back to its natural colour. And apparently, that had happened, while Sherlock and John had discussed their pirate lives (John could always be a pirate doctor) – of course she had heard every word of their conversation. And the changing colour of the Thames was clearly a sign. Sherlock was a wizard, too.
To be honest, she and her husband had been wondering for quite a while if Sherlock was a squib, but today had proven their worries wrong. And from the extent of the magic, Sherlock would be doing great things when he was old enough.
X
The day the letter arrived, the Holmes' acknowledged it with a nod – it really was no surprise – and then took Sherlock to Diagon Alley where they bought all the things he would need and he was allowed to pick out a pet. Cassiopeia had already predicted he would not pick an owl – she knew he wouldn't write home if he didn't have to – and she was proven right when he left the shop with a tiny black kitten with bright blue eyes.
" It's an Southamerican Sabrecat. I'm going to train it. It's just as smart as any owl and can deliver messages just as well. Besides, it's smart and hunts for itself." Sherlock explained and Cassiopeia saw why he chose the cat: it was a predator, strong and wild, an ancient race and capable of surviving a lot – an important trait if it was going to live with Sherlock.
"Do you have a name for it?"
Sherlock nonchalantly flipped the kitten over – it hissed and tried to scratch him – and held it down, examining it quickly. Other 11-year-olds probably didn't even know where and what to look for but he found out the kittens gender quickly and after thinking for a moment, he declared: "Since it's a girl, I'm going to call it-her Auriga."
"After the waggoner-constellation?"
"Yes. I like to think that she brings death to so many little creatures she's going to hunt in her life, like a waggoner carrying them to their final destination."
"You're morbid," Mycroft told him, eyeing the cat with a bored expression.
"No one asked for your opinion," Sherlock retorted, but before the situation could escalate, Cassiopeia shoved their boys into Madame Malkin's to get their cloaks fitted. Auriga meowed annoyed in her cage, obviously expressing what her new owner felt.
…
The day the letter arrived at the Watsons'household, no one was prepared for it. Of course the letter didn't arrive with an owl, but with a nicely dressed woman who introduced herself as Professor Amina Smith, teacher for Muggle Studies at Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That was when Mary and James Watson, as well as John, started to think that this was not going to be an ordinary day.
To make it short, in the end, they believed Professor Smith and when John and his parents first discovered Diagon Alley, John really started to believe that this was the day his whole life was going to change. He chose a wand – no, the wand chose him – and he bought things like a cauldron, newt eyes and cloaks, and, since Professor Smith had explained them that in the wizard world owls carried the mail, he chose a little owl and chose to call it Athena, after its Latin name. He was not sure how he felt about having a pet owl, especially not after it pinched his ear, but he supposed he could live with it, seeing as it at least didn't bite off his ear completely.
That night, he heard Harry and his parents fight, sometimes his own name fell, and then he heard Harry stomping up the stairs and locking herself into her room; shortly after, her sobbing sounded through the thin walls but he didn't dare to go over to her, he just didn't want to aggravate her.
He fell asleep with his hand curled around his new wand.
X
"OH MY GOD I'M GOING TO DIE!"were the exact thoughts that crossed John's mind when he raced towards a solid wall of bricks, the impact seconds away – and then he was through, not smashed, not bleeding, but standing at some tracks next to a giant train and he was alive and he couldn't believe it.
There were kids EVERYWHERE, some wearing their cloaks already, some in normal clothes, some with their parents, some with friends. Suddenly, he felt really nervous. He knew no-one here and he was about to take a train to a school somewhere not on any map and he was not going to see his parents until Christmas and-
"Relax, honey." The voice of his mother startled him, and he was surprised she was not half as shocked by the experience of walking through a brick wall as he was. Also, she seemed to be a mind reader now. Great, maybe she should go to this school and I should just stay here and-
"John, you worry too much. I can see it in your face. Now, c'mere, give me a hug and then go and find a seat in that train." She opened her arms a bit and he slowly reached out to hug her. They were both not very tall, but still, she's a bit taller and lowered her head, whispering in his ear: "You're such a good boy, I'm sure you'll do great. And you're going to find new friends there soon. Just write me whenever you need me – and Christmas will be here sooner than you think."
John's arms closed a bit tighter around his mum and then he stepped back, grinning at her. "Love you, mum!"
She smiled. "Love you, too – now go and get a seat!"
Her voice was already drowned by a whistle signalizing for everyone to get on the train and with one last look, John grabbed his trunk and the cage with Athena before taking a deep breath.
Now, finally, the prospect of an adventure overshadowed the nagging feeling in his stomach and he grinned a bit wider before manhandling the trunk inside the train and starting his journey down the aisle, looking for a place to sit and new friends.
…
"I'm off to talk to the other Prefect's," Mycroft said, already in the door, but Sherlock didn't even look up, so the elder Holmes left with a shake off his head.
Sherlock stared out of the window, at the crowd. Their mother was long gone, she had dropped them here, Mycroft had kissed her cheek before wandering off to find a department, and Sherlock had survived a hug; Cassiopeia had whispered: "You'll be a great wizard someday, Sherlock. Your father and I – we're both very proud of you. Just try and fit in a bit, will you?"
Sherlock had replied nothing but a "Goodbye, mummy," before grabbing his trunk and whistling for Auriga. He had taught the cat to follow his whistle within a few days and now she came whenever he wanted her to, although she didn't listen to anyone else. Cassiopeia made sure Sherlock actually went on the train and waited until she saw Mycroft nodding at her from a window a bit down the train before turning her back and leaving.
Of course he despised the fact that he had to sit with Mycroft, but Sherlock knew his brother would spent a great amount of travelling time with the other prefects, so it wasn't too bad. The train suddenly jerked and Sherlock was disturbed in his thoughts. Auriga meowed and his hand moved to his lap where she lay, to scratch her behind her ears, when the door of his compartment was pushed open and a small blond boy smiled at him before calling down the aisle: "I think there's room in here!" before returning to look back at Sherlock. "Hi, I'm John! Is there room for me and two more?"
Sherlock could only do so much as nod, while his brain was already running amok inside his head at the prospect of the boy in the doorframe.
"Great, thanks man!" John said and groaned as he tried to pull his trunk in and hauling it up into the luggage rack. While he was still at it, two boys stepped into the compartment, too, and the thinner one clapped John's back, declaring: "You're awesome!" before struggling with his own trunk. Finally, the boys were done with their luggage and fell into the empty seats, John next to Sherlock and the other two on the opposite.
John's heavy breathing slowly became more regular and with a stretch, he sat more upright before turning to look at Sherlock again.
"Hi again. As I said, I'm John, and this is Mike-" he nodded towards the chubby boy, "-and Greg." The thinner boy nodded and gave Sherlock a small smile.
Sherlock was still busy with thinking, he automatically nodded at the other boys' names, but his mind was far away. Right next to him sat John, the boy he met on a train five years ago, the day they went shopping, the day after Mycroft got his Hogwarts letter. John, who wanted to become a doctor, and then, after Sherlock had told him he wanted to be a pirate, all to readily wanted to join him, becoming a pirate-doctor. He never spent much of a thought on the boy again after that day, the boy hethought was a Muggle, but now, seeing him again, in almost the same way he stumbled into Sherlock's life five years ago, Sherlock couldn't help but wonder why he hadn't deleted John. Not only he hadn't deleted John over the years like he had deleted every single other unimportant encounter, no, he could remember the whole time he spent with the blond up to the smallest detail.
So when he noticed John looked at him expectantly and his brain told him 'He's waiting for you to introduce yourself', he wasn't sure what reaction he hoped for when he declared: "I'm Sherlock Holmes."
For a moment, John's eyes furrowed. "Sherlock?... That's a weird name-"
He wasn't sure why he couldn't control his face better, but he felt it fall at that, and John quickly rambled, having noticed Sherlock's changing expression: "I don't mean it as an insult, really. I like your name! It just seems kind of… familiar…" John's eyes furrowed a bit more before he shook his head and the smile was back on.
"Anyways, is this your first year, too?"
Sherlock only nodded, absently petting Auriga again.
"You're not much of a talker, huh?" John cocked his head a bit. "Well, it's good to know some other new students. I met Mike and Greg on the aisle, they're first years, too."
"I think basically everyone can tell that by the way you look around unsure of where to go and what to do, and from the smudges of lipstick on both your cheeks," Sherlock replied, eyes locking on the apparent red smudges on Mike's and Greg's cheek. "While your mothers probably would kiss you even if you weren't first years, it wouldn't be that much and since neither of you has hit puberty, it is quite clear that you have to be part of the younger students. Now, I can see the letter poking out of your backpocket-" Mike reached around himself and pulls out the letter as if he's never seen it before, "-indicating that you were lost and not sure if you had everything you needed, hence you packed the letter to be able to check your details."
"How the bloody hell did you notice all that?" Greg asked; face surprised and rubbing at the red smudge on his face absently.
"I observed."
"That… is amazing!" John declared and smiled at Sherlock. "You're really smart!"
And Sherlock couldn't help but smile back. "Yes."
At that, John snorted. "And so modest!"
For a moment, silence fell, and then, slowly, a giggle formed in John's and Sherlock's throats until it broke free in a hearty laughter, the boys shaking while Greg and Mike exchanged looks of pure confusion and Auriga hissed when she fell of Sherlock's lap due to the boys laughter.
After that, the mood was much better and, while still being quite quiet, Sherlock participated in their conversation. They exchanged stories about how they got their letters when a witch with a trolley full of sweets came past their compartment and they all put their money together to buy a bit of everything.
"Mmh, by the way, who's sitting over there?" John asked, mouth full of Cauldron Cake, nodding over to the vacated seat where only a coat indicated Mycroft's former presence.
"My brother, Mycroft. He's in year six now."
"Mycroft? Your names are actually Sherlock and Mycroft?" John could hardly suppress laughter and Sherlock could only wonder why he didn't feel the slightest bit insulted at John's comment.
"Wizards usually have extraordinary names," Mike explained, trying to grab a Chocolate Frog that was close to escaping. "It's… their thing, I guess."
John still tried to not wonder about the moving Chocolate Frogs – he had had a minor heart attack when he opened a package and one jumped right into his face – and actually thought about what Mike had explained.
"But I thought you're from a wizard family, too?"
Mike coloured a deep scarlet. "Well, my dad's a wizard, my mum's a Muggle, but when they married, she got her will and he took her last name. She also decided on my first name… that makes me Mike Stamford."
Greg grinned and he and John shared a look, saying 'Thank-God-for-Muggle-Parents'. After that small lesson in wizard-name, they made their way through their pile of sweets, John, Mike and Greg having a great time trying to figure out which were the… edibleBertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans from those which tasted just plain horrible, but the only one who was right every time was Sherlock, resulting in John pulling the weirdest faces at dirty-feet-, earth- and sprouts-flavoured beans while Sherlock managed to chose strawberry, peanut butter and chocolate.
As the sky began to darken and the lights went on, their conversation topic turned to their arrival at Hogwarts.
"What do you think, what houses will you get sorted in?" Mike asked, and then, realizing Greg and John were muggle-born, he added. "You know about the houses, don't you?"
John nodded, he had read in one of his schoolbooks about the fact that there were four houses, a bit like teams, and you got sorted into them in your first year. "There's… Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin, right?"
Mike nodded. "I'd love to be a Gryffindor, but my dad and granddad were both in Hufflepuff. Maybe that takes it away… How about you, Sherlock?"
"My whole family got sorted into Slytherin, but a few exceptions. I don't see a special appeal in any of the houses. Slytherin would be as good as any other house, I suppose."
"Voldemort was in Slytherin, right?" Mike said, in a hushed voice and even Greg and John knew why. Of course the happenings had been before their time, but after Voldemort and his Death Eaters had attacked everyone, Muggle andWizard, it was a name you didn't simply forget. Also, they'd both read in their books about him.
"Yes, but so was Severus Snape and I understand he played an important role in the downfall of Voldemort," Sherlock argued. "Besides, Mycroft is in Slytherin, too, and I see no tendencies towards 'the Evil', maybe besides an unhealthy relationship towards cake and pastries – he'd probably kill for that." Sherlock actually snickered at that, something very uncharacteristically for him, but it made John smile nonetheless.
A piercing screech interrupted them seconds later and both John's and Sherlock's faces shot up towards the ceiling, where they witnessed how Auriga tried to get to Athena in her cage, sending the owl in distress and causing her to screech like that.
One sharp whistle of Sherlock was all it took to get the black cat off the bird and the feline gracefully climbed back down from the luggage rack before curling up in Sherlock's lap again. Athena slowly calmed down again at the prospect of the predator gone while John eyed the black cat suspiciously.
"Is your cat usually that aggressive?"
Sherlock scratched Auriga behind her ears and she purred, while he gave John a disapproving look. "Auriga is a Southamerican Sabrecat. Of course she's always trying to hunt. It's what she's born to do."
"And they let you keep that as a pet?!" John was horrified, especially when he eyed the cat closer and discovered that there were two fangs poking out just the slightest bit over her closed mouth. Sabrecat. Then, the cat – Auriga, John remembered – opened one eye and gave John a look that was so much alike Sherlock's usual disapproving ones he actually had to grin. "I see why they let you keep it. You suit each other."
Sherlock tried to look dignified while John, Greg and Mike cracked up completely.
X
The ride over the lake was ghastly, to say the least, and John more than once feared for his life, seeing as it started to rain, the tiny boats rocked heavily and he thought he glimpsed something like a giant tentacle break through the surface. It didn't help that he was in a boat with three strangers and could only exchange glances with Greg and Mike in a boat to his left and Sherlock, several boats away, who just looked rather bored, as if he didn't even notice all the possible dangers around them.
Finally, the frightened group of First Year's was all sorted out and waiting in front of a big door for Professor Smith, who not only seemed to be responsible for Muggle Studies, but also for the Sorting Ceremony. John glanced around nervously and, to his slight relief, most of the other students looked just as horrified as he felt. Only Sherlock seemed to be at ease, standing at the edge of the group, bored expression on his face, but when he noticed John's eyes on him, one of the corners of his mouth turned up the slightest bit.
And suddenly, the doors flew open and Professor Smith appeared, telling them to follow her into the hall.
The sight was incredible. Hundreds of students were sitting at four large tables, colourful banners above their heads, showing off the different houses. Floating candles lit up the hall and John felt all the strange eyes on him and the other new students as they walked down the long aisle towards a small stool with what looked like a really worn out hat.
The Sorting Hat, a voice in John's mind whispered and he remembered having read about it.
Their group came to a halt and Professor Smith called up the first student – "Abbott, Jennifer!" – and the girl, visibly shaking stepped forward and took the hat in her hands, fingers trembling. She nearly slid of the stool when she sat down and then the hat went over her forehead and nearly her eyes, her fingers tightening their grip around the edge of the stool until the knuckles turned white. And suddenly, a tear appeared along the brim of the hat and the item called out: "Hufflepuff, it is!" and the girl hurried to get the hat off her head and then made her way over to the table where the loudest cheering students sat. John saw how they clapped her back and leaned over to welcome her and suddenly, he wasn't nervous anymore. He was sure that wherever he would be sorted in, he would fit, and he would be happy there.
Professor Smith went on and soon, she had reached the 'H' and called "Holmes, Sherlock!"
John watched as the slightly taller boy strode towards the stool, not slowing down until he reached it, then he grabbed the hat and planted it on his curls, an impatient look on his face. The crowd went silent again, waiting for the hat to decide, but the magical item took it's time. Sherlock's expression went from impatient to emotionless and then, after a good two minutes, he rolled his eyes and said loud enough for everyone to hear: "I'm going to sort myself then!" A gasp went to the crowd but this was the moment, when the hat spoke, first a bit quieter to Sherlock and the other first years to hear: "You already did." And then loud, for the crowd: "Slytherin for Mr. Holmes, it is!"
The Slytherins clapped, as did the other tables, but there was a feeling of uncertainty to it.
Right after Sherlock, a small girl with mouse brown hair was called – "Hooper, Molly!" and she was sorted into Ravenclaw fairly quickly. John watched as "Lestrade, Gregory" was sorted into Gryffindor, a pale boy with dark hair called "Moriarty, James" became Slytherin, too, then a pretty girl called "Sawyer, Sarah" became a Ravenclaw and then "Stamford, Michael" Gryffindor again. It was only just now that John realized he was the last one to be called up front and by now he wasn't so sure where he wanted to be sorted anymore.
He still didn't care about the reputation of the houses, but somehow, Hufflepuff seemed less appealing because he didn't have any friends there, same went for Ravenclaw. Well, of course he couldn't be sure if he actually was friends with Sherlock, Greg and Mike, but at least he knewthem.
His time was up, though, and Professor Smith's voice startled him from his thoughts. "And last but not least: Watson, John."
John slowly walked up to the stool and grabbed the old, battered head, feeling the warmth of it before sitting down on the stool and putting the hat on. Instantly, he was surrounded by darkness as it slipped over his eyes and then he heard a small voice inside his head.
"I see bravery, yes, and also intelligence. You're loyal beyond compare and you work hard for the things you want to achieve. You'd fit in every house."
"Are you the… Sorting Hat – in my head?! What do you mean, I'd fit in every house?"
"What I said. You get to chose, John. Where do you want to go? You want to be with your friends, right? So, Slytherin or Gryffindor, it is."
"Why did you put Sherlock into Slytherin?"
"Ah-ah. That's not allowed. You can't ask about others. Make your choice based on your own thoughts and wishes."
John was silent for a little while. Then he made his decision.
"Are you sure? Gryffindor is a good choice, great times await you there. But the greater the time, the greater the fall, you realize that?"
"I know Sherlock doesn't need me. He is tough."
"So you're trying to protect your other friends? I see, a lion true to the heart. Or a… pirate? In that case, it's going to be…GRYFFINDOR!"
The hat belted out the last words, roaring came from the table to John's very left - and just like that, John Watson had been sorted into Gryffindor.
He found Sherlock's face over the sea of faces between them and they exchanged a small smile, when John remembered the Sorting Hat's last words. Pirate.
PIRATE.
SHERLOCK HOLMES.