John and Sherlock were both silent, transfixed on the point where the Boggart had disappeared.
"Come on you two, let's get going." Greg decided, tugging softly on John's sleeve to get him moving. But he couldn't leave Sherlock, not now at least. And he had a sneaking suspicion Sherlock isn't going to want to leave this room or talk much.
"You can go ahead, I'll wait here." John decided, shooing them along with his hand. Mycroft didn't even try to say anything to Sherlock; he just looked at his little brother with sadness and turned away to the door. After a little while there was nothing said, Sherlock hadn't moved and John watched nervously, hoping there was something he could do.
"Sherlock..." John started.
"No, don't, it's my fault." Sherlock muttered.
"What is?"
"Everything." Sherlock admitted, and with that he walked swiftly out the door, once again a master of the dramatics. John sighed, listening to the bumping in the closet and wondering where Sherlock is going. No doubt to hide in his bed and ignore the world, but there was some hope in John's hope, very irrational hope, that he was going to the common room to watch the two of them play chess. John walked out to the common room, making sure his skin was firmly sticking to him and there were no flames coming out of his skin before walking in. Greg and Mycroft were, as promised, sitting in front of the fire but there was no Sherlock. As John had predicted, he was probably sulking. The two weren't making a big fuss over John's arrival, probably not wanting to appear too nosey, but they were barely playing chess either. John sighed; he had actually hoped that the feud between them could've ended, but apparently not.
"So, what was that all about?" Greg asked before he could stop himself. Mycroft glared at him, as if they had already discussed that they weren't going to talk about it.
"You saw it for yourself I suppose." John shrugged.
"My brother's biggest fear is you dying?" Mycroft asked.
"No, I think it's floating skin, of course it's me dying!" John snapped, done with their obvious questions.
"Quite a creative way to die." Greg shrugged. "I guess he cares about you more than he lets on."
"I'm touched." John sighed.
"I'm worried. He'll stay away probably for another week." Mycroft agreed.
"Then I'll go talk to him after dinner or something, make sure he's okay." John decided.
"I don't think you're caring would be well received." Mycroft warned.
"It'll be fine, we can all camp out in the common room tonight, which would be so much fun, make a blanket fort and have a pillow fight!" Greg decided, sounding like an excited teenage girl.
"You're kidding right?" Mycroft asked.
"No! We can steal food from the kitchens and stuff!" he insisted. John looked at Mycroft as if asking who 'was the one that gave Greg drugs'.
"That sounds miserable." John decided.
"It'll be awesome!" Greg insisted.
"Nope." Mycroft sighed.
"I'll ask Sherlock." He decided, getting to his feet.
"He'll turn you into a duck." Mycroft pointed out.
"More like something a lot uglier, like a hamster." John sighed. "I'll do it. Maybe, if we're lucky, he'll stay the whole night without having a drama worth Shakespeare."
"Be careful." Mycroft added. "He's probably unstable."
"You know what my advice would be." Greg added with his eyebrows raised.
"Our bet it was now?" Mycroft asked.
"I raised it to seventy." Greg decided, fishing out his pockets and writing a quick IOU to put in the pool later.
"You guys are pathetic." John decided.
"We're right you know, his boggart proves that." Greg pointed out.
"We're friends, nothing more, and if you want some romance drama crap just ask someone like Anthea of Janine or something, I'm sure they'll tell you about that werewolf vampire rubbish." John decided, leaving the chair and walking out of the portrait hole with a determined skip in his step. He had no idea what was with Greg and his childish ideas, but there was a small part of John that thought a camp out under a blanket fort with Sherlock would be sort of enjoyable. Maybe his wild fantasy of snuggling in front of the fire might come true. He walked to the Ravenclaw common room, where the Eagle doorknocker was waiting with yet another impossible riddle.
"This thing all things devours; Birds, beasts, trees, flowers; Gnaws iron, bites steel; Grinds hard stones to meal; Slays king, ruins town, And beats mountain down."
"I have no bloody idea, but could you just let me in, please?" John begged.
"Answer the riddle and you shall enter."
"There isn't anyone in there, I need to talk to Sherlock, I've been in before." John defended.
"No answer, no entry."
"Oh my god you're impossible. Let's see.... Iron, Stones, I don't know, wind? Erosion?" John guessed.
"Incorrect."
"Bloody thought so. I don't know, water? Time!" John said triumphantly. The door opened before him, making John smile widely. His second time getting these stupid riddles correct, Sherlock would be proud. He stepped inside the room, lit brightly with the sunshine over the glass windows. The common room was completely empty, but John noticed the present from last night was gone, so Sherlock had obviously been here.
"Sherlock?" John called, but the only answer was his voice echoing slightly. He sighed, so this would be done the hard way then. He hiked up the stairs, remembering the blind joy that had taken place on this very set of stairs. The only door that was shut was the one leading to the sixth year dorms, shut tight and probably locked with all sorts of enchantments.
"Sherlock can I come in?" John called, knocking twice on the wood.
"Who is it?" said a voice from inside.
"John!"
"Why are you here?"
"Why wouldn't I be? Unless you want your brother to show up." He pointed out. There were multiple clicks behind the door, as if locks were being opened.
"Come in." Sherlock decided. John turned the knob carefully, half expecting a bucket of magma to come pouring down on his head or something, but all he saw was the dark dorm room.
"Are you too good for lights?" John asked, walking in and closing the door behind him.
"No, they're too good for me." Sherlock sighed. He had drawn the curtains around his bed, but was peeking out through a small gap. "What do you want?"
"Well, we were planning on doing a bit of a sleepover party in the Gryffindor common room, make some blanket forts or something, all Greg's idea, kind of stupid if you ask me." John admitted. He heard Sherlock sigh from inside the curtains.
"I was expecting something like that. Is this a trick to get me back in the world?" Sherlock asked.
"No, nothing like that it's seriously his idea. I guess it could be decent, but not if it's me against those two love birds. Please come?" John insisted. Sherlock's green eye blinked a couple of times as its owner tried to piece together the invitation.
"You're not scared of me then?" he asked.
"Why in the world would I be scared of you?" John asked with an exasperated sigh.
"Well, I don't know... I'd be a bit freaked out if someone else's greatest fear was me dying." Sherlock pointed out.
"Well I think right now my greatest fear is being stuck with Greg and Mycroft, it sounds much more terrifying to be honest." John said with a small laugh.
"Well I guess I can go, but only if you ask nicely."
"There he is!" John said happily, happy to hear the sass back in Sherlock's voice.
"That doesn't work."
"Will you please accompany me in this slumber party from Hell?" John asked, bowing like a prince and holding out his hand.
"Don't be creepy about it, god." Sherlock said, crawling out from the curtains and fixing his hair the best he could in the mirror.
"So this has been where you've been hiding all this time?" John asked, watching as numerous candy wrappers fell from the bed.
"I don't really fancy sulking in the middle of the school no." Sherlock shrugged.
"Sulking?" John asked, looking at Sherlock's reflection in the mirror. He had stopped moving, looking quite conflicted.
"No, not sulking, thinking, I said thinking." Sherlock said quickly, going back to making sure his curls were parted to the side. John nodded, but he wasn't convinced for one second. Sherlock straightened out his robes and then turned around to face John with a 'let's concur the day' kind of smile.
"So how have you been doing during this long week then?" he asked, grabbing his bag and stuffing candy boxes into it, sticking his wand in his pocket and slinging over his shoulder.
"Bored out of my mind, they don't really like me sitting in on their dates." John shrugged. "Oh, and my mom sent me a load of muggle candy and other junk food, thought you'd like that."
"That's nice. My parents sent me a couple of books, nothing much, Mycroft got me a book, Greg got me a book, you got me a book, and that's all the friends I have so I got books." Sherlock said with a smile.
"Any grandparents?" John asked. Sherlock's face suddenly went sad.
"Not anymore." He muttered.
"Oh, gosh I'm sorry." John said quickly, seeing that this must be a record for Sherlock crawling back into his antisocial padded cell.
"Yes well, they went quickly, what can you do?" Sherlock shrugged, walking out the common room door. "How'd you even get in?" he added, turning his head to see John and almost falling down the stairs.
"Oh, I answered the riddles; twice actually, I'm quite proud." John admitted, standing up a little bit taller.
"Good for you John, getting smarter every day it would seem." Sherlock said, jumping down the last three steps. He was very cheerful today, John didn't have a clue why but he wasn't going to interrupt it by asking. It was probably because of last night, the joy of the kiss also sent happiness to the days afterward to John as well.
"It's not even lunch yet, what are we going to do until then?" Sherlock asked, unnecessarily holding the door open for John even though it stayed open by itself.
"Haven't the faintest really, they just told me to go get you." John shrugged. "Just absolutely no chess." Sherlock laughed as if that had been some type of joke.
"It's not like I enjoy that game either, I just want to build up to one day play Mycroft." He admitted, shutting the door behind him and following John down the corridor to the staircase.
"I'd like to see the day that happens." John laughed.
"Do you doubt me?" Sherlock asked, sounding offended.
"Yes." John shrugged, but Sherlock laughed as well.
"Probably right to." He agreed.
"You're plenty brilliant, of course, but Mycroft is way too good at chess. And you take too long." John added, happy to have his friend back, at least for now. They walked all the way to the portrait hole in a comfortable silence, walking side by side so close that their hands brushed when they met in mid swing. Every time that happened they both blushed and looked away from each other, but there was the smallest of smiles on John's face to see that Sherlock was just as awkward as he was.
"PIG SNOUT ." John said clearly to the Fat Lady.
"Haven't seen you in a while dear." she commented to Sherlock before opening the door to the common room. Sherlock rolled his eyes, not answering her question but stepping inside the room. Greg and Mycroft were now sitting in armchairs by the fire, stopping their conversation abruptly when they saw the two walk in.
"He's alive!" Greg said excitedly.
"John mentioned something about a slumber party? I brought some scary stories and a pillow." Sherlock said with false enthusiasm, falling into an armchair with a huff. "It sounds pathetic."
"But when will we have this opportunity again?" Greg pointed out.
"I don't know, one, two, three nights until they come back." Mycroft pointed out, counting in his head.
"So let's just get it over with! It'll be fun." Greg assured. The other three rolled their eyes and reluctantly agreed, it's not like they had any other plans or anything. After a while of small talk, strictly prohibiting Sherlock's boggart or disappearance, they went down to the Great Hall with growling stomachs. They all sat at the Gryffindor table, this time Sherlock didn't eat voluntarily but John made sure he was ate at least half of a sandwich. He needed to gain the weight back that he had lost over his little break from the public world.
"So we're going to break into the kitchens?" Mycroft asked, looking up to the staff table with guilt, as if they could hear him from down here. But what little staff actually sat at the table weren't listening, completely focused on whatever was on their plates.
"That's the plan. Get some butterbeer, get some food, camp out in front of the fire." Greg agreed. Sherlock muttered something that no one heard, probably about how stupid of an idea that was, John didn't clarify.
"I guess it can't be all that bad." John shrugged. "Mom sent me all this candy we should try."
"I have Jolly Ranchers." Sherlock added.
"What is it with you and that muggle sweet? Is there some type of drug in it?" Mycroft asked suspiciously.
"No, it's just enjoyable, you wouldn't understand." Sherlock shrugged. Mycroft rolled his eyes at his younger brother, as if offended he had even suggested such a thing.
"So, what now?" John asked, pointing to the remainder of Sherlock's sandwich, which he had tried to ignore as if John wouldn't notice. That was the last of the food on all of their plates.
"I'm done with doing nothing; I want work, homework, intelligence." Mycroft groaned.
"What a bloody nerd." Greg groaned, but he had a smile on his face.
"We could go blow stuff up in the potions classroom." John suggested.
"And get killed by Snape? No thank you." Greg said, for the first time looking properly scared of a radical idea.
"How about we go finish off that boggart?" Mycroft suggested.
"No way." Sherlock said, silently nibbling at the crust of his sandwich. They all agreed that probably wouldn't be the best thing to do, so they all pondered other ideas.
"I don't know, what do you guys do when you get bored?" John asked.
"Library." Both Holmes brothers said in unison. They also looked equally disgusted at the idea of talking at the same time, and with the same answer.
"Well, there could be some sort of entertainment there." Greg shrugged.
"There are books, the best entertainment ever!" Sherlock pointed out. John kept his mouth shut, but was definitely thinking he'd rather play a game of quidditch than sit motionless and read all day, but Sherlock was Sherlock, and Sherlock was odd.
"I'm only agreeing to this because I'm desperate." John decided. The smile on Sherlock's face was pretty much worth it though, a treasure John hadn't seen in a while. He had no idea where they were now, it was all so complicated he sort of wished he could wipe the past week or so off of the map, but they seemed to be in a good place at the moment. When Sherlock had choked down the rest of his sandwich they were off to the library, led by two very excited Holmes brothers.