And I'm going to share it here.
17 August 1997
"You okay?" A voice asked from above him, distinctly feminine and slightly amused.
"Obviously not." Sherlock snarled, pushing himself up the tiled floor of the bathroom. The girl above him gave him an unimpressed look, her toothbrush hanging from the side of her mouth.
"Oi, I’m trying to be nice to you. Not everyone is trying to shove you into the women’s lavs, okay?" She rolled her eye and took his elbow as they both hauled him to his feet. "Jesus, don’t you ever eat anything?"
"Can’t. Slows me down."
"Horseshit." She replied, walking over to the sink and rinsing the toothpaste from her mouth and brush. "Your body needs the nutrients."
“Ordinary people need the nutrients.” Sherlock scoffed. She turned back to him as she pulled her thick mass of curled hair into a ponytail. She frowned as she walked over to him, taking his chin in her hands and holding him steady as he tried to flinch away. Her other hand tapped a spot on his head and he immediately flinched back, swatting her hand.
"Don’t do that."
She frowned and waggled the fingers she’d just had on his head, the finger tips dotted with blood. “You’re hurt. C’mon then.” She held her other hand out and slowly wrapped her arm around his. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” She directed him to sit on one of the little benches that lined the walls as she went back and fetched her shower caddy and set it next him when she came back.
She flipped open a little sealed section and dug out a small bottle of hydrogen peroxide, his mind racing and rattling as he spouted off everything he knew about the compound and hissing as she dabbed it lightly on his forehead with a cotton ball.”Now, now ya big baby.” She blew on the cut gently and drew back . “Ghost-busters or animal print?”
"For your plaster." She held up two boxes and signaled for each. "Ghost-busters or animal print?"
"Does it matter?" He heaved a sigh of annoyance.
"Lisa Frank it is." She grinned as she applied the adhesive to his forehead. "There all better."
"Yes, I’m sure your medical qualifications deem it as such."
"Just say ‘thank you, Sally’ and be done with it." She laughed sraightening her back.
"Thank you, Sally." Sherlock replied, his own lips twitching into a hesitant grin.
"That wasn’t so bad now, was it?"
26 June 2015
"Oh just sit down, you big baby." Sally huffed, roughly jostling him into sitting down in the plastic chair. "You can’t go wandering around the precinct with a massive gash on your head bleeding like that."
"I fail to see how that concerns you." Sherlock grouched, tapping his foot impatiently as she retrieved a first aid kit from her desk. Sally frowned as she soaked the cotton ball in the hydrogen peroxide, blowing on the cut as she dabbed the cotton ball on to his forehead.
"People concern me, Sherlock. You do great work, you always do, but there are rule and procedures that I have to follow. Do you know how much paper work I have to file, personally, to make sure you’re on the right side of the bars? Massive amounts.” Sherlock went to protest but Sally cut him off. “I know you don’t care about that bit, but damnit you make my job so hard sometimes. Don’t act like you don’t dig barbs just as good as you get them.” Her brown eyes leveled with his, searching and probing, but she sighed and turned back to her kit.
"Disney or geometric shapes?"
"Does it matter?" Sherlock said evenly, folding his hands.
"Disney it is then." Sally smirked, the grin not quite reaching her eyes as she thought back to a night from so many years ago as she applied the bandage and smoothed down the corners. "Sleeping Beauty, so maybe you’ll take the hint and get some rest."
"Thank you, Sally." Sherlock replied, the corner of his mouth ticking up slightly, his thumb brushing across her knee and she rolled her eyes.
"That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now just stop bashing your head into things and we’ll be set."
"I haven’t the faintest idea of what you’re talking about, Sargent Donovan."
"Uh-huh, sure you don’t."
Slytherin wasn’t the only founder to leave a concealed chamber at Hogwarts— before her death, Helga Huffelpuff created a secret room which would help all students, regardless of house affiliation or purity of blood. It’s been called many things throughout the centuries; today it’s known as the Room of Requirement.