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On the bottom third of John Watson’s drawer, he kept items he considered the most precious to him. Most of the things were of the expected sort: his dog tags, photos of soldiers he knew and lost, letters and little trinkets. He used to keep his gun in there until Sherlock found it, forcing John to buy a safe.
By far the oddest item was a little tin can, wrapped in a white and blue stripped school tie. Inside, Sherlock discovered, was a stick that had been snapped four times.
Sherlock placed the stick together and at full length, it was about thirteen inches long. Tiny little decorations had been carved into the wood. Both the stick and tie were old and on the tin box, one word had been indented into it.
Ravenclaw.
Sherlock never asked (because if he did, then he would have to admit he snooped around John’s privacy) and John never told. The detective brushed this off as a story he would never know; it seemed to be boring one anyways.
And then the pool blew up.
The moment Sherlock pulled the trigger, he felt John’s arms wrap around him tightly. The last thought he had- the last thought he would ever have, he mused- he saw John trying to shield him from the fireball. It was pointless; they both would be engulfed and turned into ash.
Instead, the last thing Sherlock heard was a tiny pop! and both of them were suddenly standing outside, nearly two hundred yards away from the pool just in time to see the windows blow out and the roof caved in.
John pulled away from him, looking grim. Sherlock stared at him in disbelief, looking back at the flaming community pool and back at John. “How did you do that?”
“I apparated,” John explained. “They’ll be here soon.”
“Who-“
And like John had done, ‘they’ were suddenly there. Three of them in long black flowing robes, masks covering the top part of their faces, and in their hands they held long sticks. The end of each stick was glowing.
“John Watson,” one of them spoke. “You’re under arrest for unauthorized use of magic.”
“I know,” John said. “I was just trying to save myself and my friend from that burning building.”
The three police(?) glanced at the flames. “We will take that into account, but you will have to come with us.” They raised their sticks at John and Sherlock.
John held up his hands. “Wait, wait don’t arrest him. He’s innocent. He’s just a muggle, he doesn’t know anything.”
“John,” Sherlock urged. For God’s sake, they were pointing sticks at them and John was cowering before them. “What’s going on?”
“Quiet,” said one of the robed figures. “Obiliviate,” The tip of his stick suddenly erupted in blue light and Sherlock knew no more.