HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

[Kensington-Chelsea District - 128 King’s Road - Second Floor Master Bedroom]

[For Mr. Sherlock Holmes]

Sherlock received a strange letter. It was strange because, logically speaking, no one would specify a recipient’s address down to ”second floor master bedroom” when sending mail.

’Surely no one would expect the postman to deliver a letter directly to a bedroom?’

Yet this letter had indeed been delivered to Sherlock’s bedroom.

This was the second reason it was strange.

The letter’s postman was an owl. Yes, an owl.

Sherlock looked toward the coat rack nearby. There perched a black and white spotted eagle owl.

It was this very owl that had just flown through the second-floor window carrying the envelope, circled the room once, and dropped the letter precisely into his hands.

It was almost supernatural. Sherlock was naturally surprised at first.

Anyone would be unsettled by such an occurrence.

But unlike ordinary people, the excitement this event brought Sherlock quickly overwhelmed his surprise.

Turning the envelope over, he found a dark red wax seal and a shield emblem that looked quite striking.

Even more eye-catching than these, however, was a large letter ”H” surrounded by four animals: a lion, an eagle, a badger, and a snake.

Despite the envelope’s limited space, the four animal designs weren’t distorted at all. Instead, each was lifelike, as if about to leap from the paper.

Sherlock retrieved a magnifying glass from his drawer and began examining it with skillful precision.

His gray eyes sparkled with interest, and his slightly trembling hands showed that his inner state was far from as calm as his outer demeanor showed.

Finally, Sherlock laughed aloud with delight:

”At last, something to lift one’s spirits! The local criminals have been far too inactive lately...”

In 1991, as European integration accelerated, EU member states were quickening their pace in unison.

Rumors suggested that the European Community would pass formal treaties for European Economic and Monetary Union and European Political Union by year’s end.

As one of the core member states, Britain was intensifying domestic security and stability measures to demonstrate its former imperial glory and outshine its main rivals, France and Germany.

In fact, by the late 20th century, large-scale criminal organizations had virtually disappeared from mainland Britain.

Only street gangs remained, stubbornly asserting their presence.

Under these circumstances, London, as the capital, bore the brunt of high-pressure policing.

Faced with such intense scrutiny, criminals were lying low, temporarily ceasing operations.

Additionally, Sherlock had recently recovered from a serious illness, and his parents had arranged for him to attend a preparatory school.

For someone like Sherlock, who thrived on excitement and despised peaceful living, this time of waiting at home for school to begin was naturally becoming increasingly tedious.

Until today.

Of course, despite his inner excitement, Sherlock still carefully examined the envelope before opening it.

This had always been his habit.

”No postage stamp, emerald green ink, parchment paper, unusually thick paper... interesting.”

Through observation, Sherlock had already drawn preliminary conclusions.

However, he needed to examine the letter’s contents for further confirmation.

[

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore (Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Holmes,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1st.

We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall Deputy Headmistress

]

”...”

Before reading the letter, Sherlock had considered many possibilities, but not this one.

’Hogwarts?

School of witchcraft and wizardry?

Long list of Titles, Mumbojumbo?

So... this was an acceptance letter?’

The letter’s content was so outrageous that even the normally rational Sherlock found himself deep in thought.

As mentioned in the letter, there was indeed a second page—a list of required school supplies.

At a glance, Sherlock spotted items like magic wands, spellbooks, and wizard robes which were things that only appeared in fantasy literature and films.

Books like Standard Book of Spells and A History of Magic even had authors listed. As if it were all real.

After a moment of silence, Sherlock held the letter up to the light.

”Ha!”

His eyes grew brighter. If this had been any other child, they would probably already be excitedly believing everything.

However, eleven-year-old Sherlock Holmes was no ordinary person. He was far more mature than his peers.

And he was a boy who believed unwaveringly in science.

’Magic?

How could something that existed only in legends actually be real?

So, this had to be a prank.

An exquisitely crafted envelope? That could be forged.

The letter’s contents? Anyone with a little creativity could compose such things.

My address? That was the simplest part—it would take even less thought than fabricating the letter’s contents.

The only puzzling part was the mail-delivering owl.’

Sherlock had indeed never heard of owls performing such tasks before—that job typically fell to their cousins, carrier pigeons.

But never having heard of it didn’t mean it was impossible.

With enough effort, Sherlock believed this could be accomplished.

The question was: would someone really spend considerable effort on such a pointless endeavor?

The answer was yes.

Because this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.

Sherlock’s childhood dream had been to become a pirate.

While this ambition was certainly peculiar, it wasn’t entirely unacceptable—after all, it was part of their national maritime tradition.

During that period, Sherlock had received a letter.

Similar to this ”acceptance letter,” though that time it had been delivered by a proper postman.

The writer claimed to be Captain Jack Sparrow, saying he had once been a noble pirate who commanded many crew members, sailed the seas, and robbed the rich to help the poor—a legendary figure of his time.

Unfortunately, he had been tricked by another villainous captain who stole his beloved pirate ship. Ultimately disheartened, he ended up wandering the streets.

He wrote to Sherlock because he had discovered that Sherlock possessed the potential to become an excellent pirate, leading him to make a decision that went against his ancestors: to train Sherlock as his successor.

The goal was to defeat the scoundrel who had stolen his ship and reclaim everything he had once possessed.

Initially, Sherlock had been reluctant. But as time passed, this Captain Jack eventually proved himself to Sherlock through various means.

Sherlock was no ordinary child, after all. Gaining his trust was never an easy task.

Because of this, throughout the process, Sherlock had tested and verified the man multiple times, yet found no flaws as everything seemed legitimate.

However, just when Sherlock finally believed the man and became determined to follow Captain Jack on adventures, he was told it had all been a hoax.

This revelation was like a bolt from the blue for him.

Sherlock took a deep breath. The past need not be revisited.

But one cannot stumble in the same place twice.

Now Sherlock’s deductive and analytical abilities were stronger than in his naive childhood, and with this previous experience as a lesson, he naturally wouldn’t be easily deceived again.

So even though common sense told him that owls didn’t deliver mail, based on his previous experience of being deceived, as long as someone was willing to invest considerable effort—training an owl to deliver mail wasn’t impossible.

That person took pleasure in toying with his emotions. Recalling this experience, Sherlock paced back and forth in his room.

Finally, he made a decision that wasn’t particularly difficult, took out a paper and began writing rapidly.

[

Dear Professor McGonagall,

I am honored to receive the acceptance letter from your school, and I would be delighted to attend your institution for my studies.

However, neither I nor my family have previously heard of ”magic” matters, nor do we understand the enrollment preparations. If your school could arrange for staff to visit and answer our questions, I would be most grateful.

—Sherlock Holmes

]

A smile appeared at Sherlock’s face. Since he was seeking excitement, he might as well see it through to the end.

The other party had already made their move, so he would play along properly.

Unexpectedly, just as Sherlock finished writing his reply, the owl still perched on the coat rack immediately hooted once and fluttered over to him.

’So proactive?’

Sherlock tentatively extended his hand, and the owl immediately took the letter in its beak and flew out the window with a beat of its wings.

Watching its flight posture and speed, Sherlock couldn’t help but feel impressed.

Judging from this owl’s training results, considerable effort had indeed been invested.

This alone made it worthy of his serious attention.

From his understanding of that person, they certainly wouldn’t give up so easily.

How would they respond to him?

Would they gradually gain his trust through letters?

Or would they arrange for someone to impersonate a magic school teacher?

Or would they simply jump out and bluntly announce it was all a hoax?

Well, that last option seemed unlikely—after all, both sides wanted to continue this contest.

Regardless, Sherlock was very much looking forward to what would happen next.

At least... this summer wouldn’t be boring.

What Sherlock hadn’t expected was how quickly the response would come.

Three days after receiving the acceptance letter, Sherlock was having breakfast with his parents.

Mrs. Holmes picked up the newspaper and glanced at it, then exclaimed to her husband, ”Tarquin, that burglary case has been solved—Sherlock was right, the culprit really was that one-armed man!”

Mr. Holmes smiled and looked at his son. ”I remember that was a case from three months ago.”

Sherlock put a piece of bread in his mouth and said coolly, ”Scotland Yard’s efficiency is always like this, and they turn a blind eye to obvious facts.”

”Scotland Yard” wasn’t a place name, but rather the nickname for the London Metropolitan Police.

It was neither located in Scotland nor responsible for Scotland’s security.

The Metropolitan Police was responsible for maintaining public order and traffic control throughout Greater London, excluding the City of London proper. Its old headquarters was located at 4 Whitehall Street.

Because one of its back doors faced Scotland Yard, and this door happened to be the Metropolitan Police’s public entrance, over time, Scotland Yard became the nickname for the London Metropolitan Police.

Using place names to refer to institutions wasn’t uncommon—Fleet Street, 10 Downing Street, for example.

This habit wasn’t unique to Britain; other countries had similar practices.

For instance, Sherlock, who was interested in investigation, knew of places like ”Lubyanka,” ”Six Doors,” and ”West Ice House Hotel.”

Hearing Sherlock’s assessment of Scotland Yard, Mr. Holmes couldn’t help but suggest, ”Sherlock, perhaps you should become a detective in the future!”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow but didn’t respond.

Just then, an eagle owl flew straight through the open window.

_________________________________________________________

CHECK OUT MY NEW NOVEL IN MY PROFILE.