HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

The Room of Requirement.

Sherlock was rapidly scanning every detail of the room, his gray eyes gleaming with pure, focused curiosity.

He didn’t immediately answer Gemma’s question, but instead strode quickly to the wall and reached out to feel the texture of the velvet curtains.

After listening carefully and confirming he couldn’t hear any sounds from the corridor, he nodded slightly, a faint smile curling at the corners of his mouth.

”Impeccable concealment, perfect sound isolation, even the Marauder’s Map can’t find this place.”

He seemed to be talking to himself while conducting an on-site verification. ”The difficulty of detecting it from outside is even greater than the Chamber of Secrets.”

His tone carried a hint of excitement, clearly extremely satisfied with the room’s concealment.

Then he turned his attention to the overall atmosphere of the space, his gaze falling on the two sofas and the dancing fireplace.

”However—”

His eyes turned to Gemma beside him, with a knowing smile.

”This extra comfort and carefully prepared arrangement is clearly your doing.

Gemma, you’ve designed it very well, far exceeding a mere safe house.

A space for quietly organizing thoughts and practicing dragon-taming theory wouldn’t come equipped with a wine cabinet, flowers, and a small observatory.

This gift is too thoughtfully considered—it’s quite beyond my expectations.”

Gemma walked to the sofa by the fireplace and sat down gracefully, her posture relaxed.

Even after having her little schemes exposed, there wasn’t a trace of embarrassment on her face. Instead, she admitted it openly.

”To do something that surprises Sherlock Holmes is my honor.

I simply thought that a place where you’d be willing to stay for long periods and conduct important thinking should at least feel comfortable.

Discussing matters with you sometimes takes considerable time and energy.

A warm fireplace, soft seating, appropriate refreshments—these all help keep the mind clearer.”

As she spoke, she picked up the teapot and began pouring steaming hot black tea into cups.

”I imagine even Sherlock Holmes doesn’t need to constantly place himself in a monastery’s stone chamber.”

Her tone carried a hint of teasing. After finishing this sentence, she gently pushed a cup of tea toward the direction of the adjacent sofa.

Sherlock accepted the invitation and sat down on the other sofa.

The sofa was perfectly soft, supporting his back while making him unable to resist relaxing.

Watching Gemma naturally and skillfully pour tea, and recalling the subtle care in the letter she’d written him, Sherlock pressed his hands together under his chin, falling into contemplation.

The scene before him naturally reminded him of his friendship with Harry.

Before coming to Hogwarts—before officially entering the wizarding world—he had already determined that Harry Potter would inevitably be at the center of events. The experiences of these three years had proven exactly that.

For someone who thrived on adventure and wanted to explore and solve mysteries, this was exactly what he desired.

That’s why he had taken the initiative to approach Harry.

He’d originally thought he’d need to create opportunities, but unexpectedly Harry himself had presented the opportunity.

The painful experiences at the Dursleys’ had left Harry desperately needing someone to confide in, someone who could help and guide him as a leader.

Sherlock had appeared at just the right moment.

For Sherlock, approaching Harry, the Boy Who Lived, had been a purely utilitarian move.

As long as he stood with the wizarding world’s savior, the Dark Lord’s nemesis, he would naturally be at the center of the vortex.

Various troubles and incidents would come one after another, and Sherlock would solve them one by one.

Of course, this utilitarianism was harmless to Harry himself.

But as time passed, Sherlock’s thinking had changed.

This surprised even himself. Because he had once believed he would never have friends.

Yet unknowingly, he had gradually abandoned the idea of treating Harry as a tool and had become true friends with him.

Especially that night practicing the Patronus Charm.

Harry told Sherlock that the happiest moment in his heart was their first meeting on the train.

Sherlock would never forget the shock to his heart at that moment.

That pure, sincere emotion washed away the last trace of utilitarian color from the starting point of his actions.

It made him clearly recognize that the friendship had long since transcended its original purpose.

That’s why he had said those words to Harry.

Now it seemed that Gemma’s relationship to him was equivalent to his relationship to Harry.

Gemma had initially approached him because she accurately judged that his mind could bring value, so she had approached him with a clear purpose.

As a Slytherin prefect, establishing a connection with an ally with strong perception was definitely a wise choice.

Sherlock had told his companions more than once that this was a true Slytherin.

If you lack ability, they naturally look down on you, but they won’t bully the weak—they’ll simply ignore you completely.

If you possess strength, they’ll give you respect and strive to befriend you, sparing no cost.

People like Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were simply the shame of Slytherin.

Showing goodwill at their first meeting, then providing various conveniences and information as a prefect and older student, maintaining continuous communication with him, extending a helping hand more than once when help was needed, and now this gift that merged both their needs and was custom-made for him—

All of this, without exception, came with Slytherin-style value considerations.

A new student with a memory palace and astonishing observational skills was naturally worth the investment.

However, just as his relationship with Harry had long since been elevated, the relationship between Gemma and himself had also long since crossed beyond a simple community of interests.

The room before him was one proof of that.

The space imagined and created by Gemma not only met his core needs but also included elements that would make him feel comfortable and pleased.

This wasn’t something a purely strategic ally would go to the trouble of doing.

Only a friend who understood and cared deeply about his comfort would take such pains.

In this moment, Sherlock projected Gemma’s attitude toward him onto the evolutionary trajectory of his friendship with Harry.

Starting with purpose, ending in pure and precious friendship.

”You’re right, Gemma.”

Sherlock ended his contemplation and looked into Gemma’s blue eyes.

”This room perfectly responds to our shared needs. Thank you—I really love this gift.”

Gemma lowered her eyes slightly, watching the steam rising from the teacup in her hand, her lips forming a gentle arc.

”Then let’s properly enjoy this first cup of tea together,”

She raised her head, her eyes clear. ”This is our own private world.”

Their teacups clinked lightly, accompanied by the whisper of flames.

In this space born from their mutual intentions, Sherlock was certain he had both received and returned a precious friendship elevated from value.

Gemma raised her teacup with a slight smile.

Blue and gray eyes met, and seeing the pure, trusting gaze of the young man opposite her, Gemma sighed quietly in the depths of her heart.

She knew very well that the deeper emotion she hadn’t even confirmed to herself was firmly blocked by the cognitive barrier of friendship logic this young man had constructed.

In other words, once she truly confirmed her own feelings, she would need to be more proactive and more direct.

After all—there wasn’t much time left for her.

Under the attention of various factions, the first Quidditch match of the new term finally began.

Ravenclaw vs. Slytherin.

Just like the previous Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff match, all the Gryffindor Quidditch players were present to watch.

”Every time I see Flint’s face, I want to punch him!” Fred said viciously.

”If he hadn’t made excuses to swap the match order last time, we wouldn’t have lost to Hufflepuff, and we wouldn’t be so passive now!” George said.

All the Gryffindor team members nodded, showing expressions of complete agreement.

But Sherlock shook his head at this moment. ”That’s not right.”

”Sherlock, what’s not right?” Fred asked curiously.

”What you’re saying isn’t right.”

”How is it not right?” George asked in confusion.

Sherlock held up two fingers.

”First, Marcus Flint didn’t make excuses to swap the match order.

At the time, Draco Malfoy really did fall from his broomstick and break his leg.”

”But he could have made it to the match!”

Chaser Angelina Johnson said with displeasure. ”He was discharged from the hospital wing the very day of the official match!”

Hermione sighed. ”Johnson, if Harry had been injured and broken his leg, Wood wouldn’t have let him compete right after being discharged either.”

”That’s not necessarily true.”

Another chaser, Alicia Spinnet, secretly glanced at Wood, who was intently focused on the field, and lowered her voice while he wasn’t paying attention. ”To win, he’d do anything.”

Angelina Johnson agreed. ”That’s right. If Madam Pomfrey hadn’t stopped him, he’d pull players off their sickbeds.”

Hermione: ”...”

She had nothing to say and could only look at Sherlock.

Sherlock shook his head.

”Flint isn’t Wood, and Malfoy isn’t Harry.

An injured Seeker is a very legitimate reason—it can’t be considered making excuses to swap the match order.”

The Gryffindor players fell silent. They weren’t unreasonable people and knew Sherlock was right.

Harry nodded especially. ”Sherlock’s right.”

”Second, even if the match order hadn’t been swapped and we’d played Slytherin normally, Harry would still have fallen from his broomstick because of the Dementors that suddenly appeared on the field.

In that case, we’d still have lost the match, and the situation would be no different from now.

It might even be worse, because it would have let the strongest team, Slytherin, get an early victory.”

This time, everyone was speechless.

Come on, mate, is it really necessary to be this precise?

Only Hermione and Luna looked at Sherlock seriously and nodded repeatedly after he finished speaking.

Harry also coughed. ”Sherlock’s right—the last match was all my fault.”

The Gryffindor players were even more speechless.

”Alright, Harry, let’s not talk about that.”

The third chaser, Katie Bell, seeing the situation going wrong, interrupted the topic.

”Let’s discuss which team winning would be more advantageous for us, shall we?”

”It feels like it’s about the same either way? No matter who wins or loses, we have to win the remaining two matches, right?”

Alicia Spinnet said uncertainly.

Everyone’s gaze turned to Sherlock and Hermione.

Clearly, for the brawn-over-brain house, when it came to things requiring thought, they could just ask the Lion King and Miss Know-It-All.

There was a Ravenclaw student nearby, but Luna had long been nicknamed ”Loony Lovegood,” so they couldn’t count on her.

Looking at her out-of-focus gaze, she indeed didn’t seem like someone they could rely on.

”The difference really isn’t that big.”

Hermione glanced at Sherlock and, seeing he didn’t seem inclined to analyze, simply analyzed it herself.

”Right now, two matches have been held, and among the three teams that have competed, Ravenclaw has one win, we have one loss, and Hufflepuff has one win and one loss.

If Slytherin defeats Ravenclaw today, then Ravenclaw becomes one win, one loss, and Slytherin becomes one win.

If Slytherin loses to Ravenclaw, then Ravenclaw becomes two wins, and Slytherin becomes one loss.

Either way, we need to consecutively defeat both Slytherin and Ravenclaw in the next two matches, getting a record of two wins and one loss, to have any chance of competing for the championship.

If we lose even one match, our record becomes one win, two losses, and we’re out of championship contention.

Of course, even if we win both remaining matches, we can’t guarantee the championship.

Because next term there’s still the Slytherin versus Hufflepuff match. If Hufflepuff can win, they’ll also be two wins, one loss, and then we’ll need to compare points.”

”Hufflepuff is definitely no match for Slytherin.”

Wood, who had been silent, finally spoke. ”That’s beyond question.”

”If that’s the case, then Slytherin has essentially already locked in one victory.”

Hermione said with a frown.

”Stop calculating, Miss Granger!”

Wood waved his hand dominantly. ”The match is about to start, and we can’t influence the outcome anyway, so let’s analyze these things after this match ends!”

Sherlock nodded. ”After this match’s result is determined, we can set aside more uncertain information.

The key is the point Wood raised—we can’t decide this match’s outcome.”

Hermione naturally understood this reasoning, so she nodded and stopped analyzing.

On the field, referee Madam Hooch signaled the two captains to shake hands.

Flint looked relaxed, Davies expressionless, but their performance during the handshake still exposed that their hearts weren’t calm.

As Madam Hooch blew the whistle, fifteen broomsticks soared into the sky together.

”The match has begun! Ravenclaw gets the Quaffle first!”

Then, commentator Lee Jordan, whose speech gained rhythm and beat when he spoke quickly, began his passionate work.

The two Seekers, Cho Chang and Draco Malfoy, hovered at the same height, gazing at each other from across the pitch.

You can read more than 40 chapters on:

patreon.com/MikeyMuse