Why WotC’s Sexism in Gaming Art Article Made Me Happy

Mostly I'm pointing out this article due to the links there. Also because it pleases me to see that there's an actual opportunity for dialogue here. If there's one problem I think a lot of feminists have with the general public is that people don't like starting a conversation about sexism or other -isms. They're such a "dirty" words that people seem to think it's easier to brush it off rather than be seen as wrong. I'm guilty of acting in the same manner but since I've made a whole other post about it, I won't comment further.

The idea that someone has at least tried to open up this discussion is frankly very hopeful for me. Granted the article the above link talks about isn't the best researched but it's a step in the right direction and for that at least I can be grateful.

I also recommend taking a look at The Success Myth (mentioned in the article) because it is definitely a good overview of gender roles. Also! Check out the Geek Feminism blog which hosts the link I'm providing. Their posts are a delight to receive in my inbox.

And welp that was three links so I'll stop there.

Superheroes movies like Avengers Assemble should not be scorned

Tom Hiddleston wrote an article on acting in Superhero movies and it's fantastic. It also sums up rather eloquently some of the reasons why I love superheros. Not only that, but I think it fits rather well with why I love comic books and movies. I'm a being of words but both of these types of work speak to me as well.

Comic books, for me, have always been able to create a character based on an emotion or an idea that every human can relate to (such as the Hulk or Batman, as Hiddleston mentions in the article) and it's brilliant.

Movie adaptations just bring the thought home, presenting it in an amazing visual narrative through we, as humans, experience more strongly than through the page. I'm not saying that books can't do this as well, they can, but movies evoke reactions with every scene. If there isn't a reaction from the audience, I feel, a movie isn't doing the job.

Actually this can be said for any form of art. They require this connection otherwise it's dismissed and forgotten.

An Avalanche Of Detour Signs

So if you haven't read this by now and you're in the Sherlock fandom, omg what is wrong with you? Stop what you're doing. Go read it. NOW.

.

..

...

Still here? Right then, let me convince you. It's a Molly-centric fic with Molly/Lestrade and it's everything I've ever wanted in a Molly fic. Like I can't even. There's just so many feels and I can't. CAN'T. I'm writing this after just finished reading and I make no sense but oh god I am in love with it. I've meant to read this fic since forever ago and I found the time last night and this morning and I am trying not to flail or cry or do something ridiculous because I have to head off to class and pretend to be a typical commuter in about half an hour and can't afford to be a jumble of nerves when I've got to concentrate on poetic (soma)tic exercises in poetry studio today and just gah. I can't.

Read it, it's 56k but it's worth it and it's amazing. And just. It's so beautiful. So fucking beautiful and I can't deal with my feelings or coherently describe them. My mind is a jumble of capslock and keyboard smash. And——

I want a Molly Hooper show spin-off.

Yes that's the only coherent sentence you'll get from me in regards to this fic. This can count as the second or third. Whatever.

Good day.

Warning for mentions of necrophilia, child abuse, rape, and bondage.



I finished this anthology today and although I only read a couple from the Spanish side and read all the English translations (due to time restraints), I definitely enjoyed it. The anthology is a collection of short stories that Mexican authors chose as their best. However I should note that while looking up reviews on it, a blogger mentioned that none of the authors in the anthology were younger than 40 so obviously these writers are well-established.

My two favorites were "Los conservadores / The Preservers" and "La mujer de la gabardina roja / The Woman in the Red Coat". The former has embalming in it and of course, being the curious reader that I am, I looked it up. The pictures were fascinating (to me, I have to stress that because the images might be triggering for others) and then the wikipedia article led me to look up a 1996 Canadian movie called Kissed.

I watched it about a week ago and I have to say I loved it. After reading "The Preservers" in which necrophilia was implied and following with a serious take on it, was wildly appropriate. I definitely recommend watching the movie; it's on Netflix!

As for "The Woman in the Red Coat", I found myself a little out of sorts with it at first mostly because of the way the narrative was set up. It made sense in the end and hello bondage was a plus but at the same time, it felt just so real and perfect. I found myself wishing my professor had assigned me to respond to that story instead of "Tesoro viviente / Living Treasure" which although evoked some sympathy in me, was unnecessarily long and dramatic.

Another story that comes to mind is "La muda boca / The Muted Mouth" in which I found myself sympathizing with the character so much. Taking the first person probably helped the story's strength as well. The poor kid has endured violence from everywhere: his grandmother (who calls him a coward and vulgar), his father (who hits him and physically abuses him), his uncle (who violates him), and his aunt (who seduces him). He goes off to Paris to live on his own or at least he tries to but somehow his family is everywhere. In every word, in every meal, in every thought. He's haunted and it's no wonder the story ends the way it does.

Overall I recommend the anthology to anyone. It's so perfectly reminiscent of everything I love about Mexico. As much as I detest drama, some of the stories incorporate it rather well such as "Cuerpo presente / Requiem", "Shere-Sade / Sheri-Sade", "Mariachi", and "Los crucigramos / Crosswords". Others are perfect with their inclinations toward the surreal such as "Nostalgia", "True Friendship", and "Fin del mundo / The End of the World". I look forward to finding time this summer to rereading the anthology only this time, completely in Spanish.

{Take the 100 Things challenge!}

Saw this on the flist and have decided that hell yes, this is a good idea. I'm going to do 100 Things I've read. This includes, fiction, fanfiction, blog posts, lyrics, poems, tweets, things written at work or on pictures, etc. I know I have a 365 picture challenge (which I'll still update on occasion) but photos aren't really my thing. Words are my forte.

I've also decided to make the entries for this challenge public unless they're about work. I'll start tomorrow though since I'm supposed to have finished an anthology by then. Maybe I'll write about it or a short story from it. We'll see.

I write and I read. My life has been reduced to coffee, work, college, friends, and my wonderful Ubuntu powered laptop––Charlie Brown (though not necessarily in that order). Main fandoms at the moment are The Bartimaeus Trilogy, Batman, Boys Next Door, The Colbert Report, The Daily Show, Doctor Who, Inception, BBC Merlin, BBC Sherlock, Sherlock Holmes (Ritchie-verse), Star Trek, Suits, Supernatural, Tokyo Babylon, Transformers, and X/1999.

Journal/ Friending policy: My journal is mostly about my life, random nerdy school stuff, rants, politics, and fandom. If you don't know me or understand how I am you'll be very bored. Some posts are occasionally public but that doesn't happen often. I don't friend for the sake of friending––I'd rather have some common interests before we start talking. If you friend me without commenting, your chances of mutual friendship will become slim to none and you will be ignored. Still feel like friending me? Leave a comment and let's get to business.

iam_the Kitty Jones of Livejournal! (I'm a commoner and what?)
♥ Jack Sparrow is_my_bf ♥
【 I hold the Crest of Hope 】

Bisexuality is Real.

Previous comments deleted 1/29/12

BTW! IF ANY OF THE GIFS USED IN MY JOURNAL ARE YOURS. LEAVE A COMMENT AND I WILL CREDIT YOU PROPERLY OR TAKE THEM DOWN IF YOU WISH.

Change
A series of 50 AAML 100-word drabbles

Author: DayDreamer64/MadWanderer
Pairing(s): Ash/Misty, Ash/May, Misty/Tracey
Fandom: Pokemon
Genre(s): Romance/Angst
Note: This is something that I've been wanting to do for a while. I shall be doing them in batches of ten since I don't want to go through the trouble of putting it all together-LJ cuts hate me after all (-_-) HOWEVER! I must warn all readers, this is VERY different to what I've normally written, as you can see from the pairings. But no worries~ It'll all end relatively well. A good song to listen to this is Everything You Want By Vertical Horizon. Trust me, I don't know how but it fits. XD You'll see as you read along.

( Batch I - Drabbles I - X )

---

Once the wheels of change have begun turning, it's hard to stop them moving


XI:Things Are Changing

Misty sat in the changing rooms, still in her mermaid suit, waiting for Tracey to enter, her mind a tornado of emotions. Tracey had kissed her... But why?

Did Tracey like her? No, that was absurd-well no, hold that thought, he had been spending a lot of time with her but did that mean...?

Oh... God... It all made sense. His glances, his pained looks when she talked of Ash, his body movements... Tracey... liked her...

And did she..? Her eyes widened at the realization. She... liked Tracey... But what about Ash? Did she still love him like before?



XII: Do Wrong

I sat in the same seat that I had witnessed that horrible scene void of all feelings as I continued to stare at the pool.

"Ash?"

I didn't turn, didn't want to. I knew it was May.

"Ash...?" she sat next to me, and slowly wrapped her arms around me. I leaned into the embrace, lost for words.

She apparently couldn't find any comfort for me either except in this warm hug. But it was enough.

"I love her May." I whispered. "What did I do wrong...?"

"I don't know Ash." May murmured. "That's something you'll have to ask her."



XIII: Luckiest Guy On Earth

"Tracey, we need to talk." I sat primly before him. "Why did you kiss me?"

"Ahh..." he sweatdropped, scratching his head. "I was hoping we wouldn't have to go through with this."

"Trace-"

"Look," Surprisingly, he put a finger on my lips. "I know you love Ash, I understand." he smiled. "Just know... I'm here for you and will be with you all the way-no matter who you choose." he grinned. "And if it's me-well then I'll be the luckiest guy on Earth."

He walked away and casting my eyes downward I murmured, "I think you already are..."



XIV: In Her Arms

For how long we embraced, I don't know, but I felt better being in her arms.

I looked up at her for a moment and found myself lost in her deep blue eyes. Suddenly I felt a funny fleeting sensation as her grip tightened around my shoulders.

What the hell was I doing? Why was I kissing May? I love Misty, I love Misty, I love...

"Ash..." May pulled away abruptly. "This isn't right."

"I... yeah." I nodded.

I suddenly stiffened as I felt eyes upon me and looked around to see hurt cerulean blue-green ones looking into mine.



XV: Right Things At the Right Time

I walked around aimlessly about the Gym. Azurill in my arms, mind a tangle of confusion. Who did I want? There was Tracey-he was always here, treating me nicely, and saying the right things at the right time. I liked him. And there was Ash-he was always calling me scrawny and telling everyone I was a tomboy.... But I loved Ash.

He was my best friend before anything, even when we were apart. I don't think I ever stopped loving him. And Brock told me he felt the same.

But if he did, why was he kissing May?



XVI: Total Honesty

"That was wrong Ash." May was looking away from me pointedly. "That is playing with a girl's emotions. That's not nice."

"I know." I groaned in self-disgust. "It was stupid-I did it on impulse. Don't worry. It won't happen again."

"Good." May stared at me fiercely "Because as much as I like you Ash- I will not under any circumstances go out with you until you get your feeling straight. I like you a lot but I want total honesty in a relationship."

"Ohh-kay..." I nodded, sweatdropping weakly.

"C'mon let's go eat." she suggested smiling.

"Okay, let's go."



XVII: Decision Taken

I strode briskly past rooms, inquiring after the person I was searching for. Everyone pointed me in various directions and finally when I found him, it was only to see him talking to Max.

Impatiently I waited for him before I dragged him away.

"Tracey, I've made my decision."

"Oh?"

"I choose you."

"I understand--wait what?" he stared incredulously.

"I want you."

"Are you sure? You're not kidding are you?"

"Does it look like I'm kidding?" I looked up at him fiercely. "Unless you don't want to."

"No I'm fine-"

"Good. Now c'mon!"

"Where?"

"We're going on a date!"



XVIII: Total Fangirl

Being with May sure helped me realize a few things. For starters, I found out how much she liked me and how much of a fangirl she was. I sweatdropped slightly at her continued rants throughout the meal. And like any fangirl she loved the male in any situation. And in this case, she liked me. How lucky...

Of course she said she would never dream of taking me away from my "beloved" Misty unless I asked. Great.

As I sat there, through her ramblings, I noticed a pair enter the deli. A pair that I dread to see together.



XIX: New Feeling

Being open with Tracey about my sudden crush on him, required processing a lot of info and getting used to new sensations.

For example I was used to the way he wrapped his arms around my shoulder and placed his head on my joint. But that didn't mean I didn't like it. By all means I was happy, just a little embarrassed by this display of affection.

The new feeling would take time in getting used to. But it was worth it.

And if I showed any smugness in feeling a pair of chocolate brown eyes watching me-Tracey didn't notice.



XX: Complicated

She loves you Ash." I heard May say from behind me.

"Oh yeah? Then why is she with Tracey?" I countered, jealously etching in my voice. "I don't see think that's love May."

"Look Ash..." she sighed. "We girls are complicated... But she's doing it for love..."

"I see no love in there for me-looks to me like it's all for Tracey."

"Oh Ash, it's so obvious!"

"What is?"

"She's trying to get you jealous!"

"That' stupid."

"I know. But look at me, I like you and I'm rooting for Misty!"

Silence then-

"Thanks May."

She smiled warmly, "You're welcome."

---

( Batch III - Drabbles XXI - XXX )
( Batch IV - Drabbles XXXI - XL )
( Batch V - Drabbles XLI - L )

Change
A series of 50 AAML 100-word drabbles

Author: DayDreamer64/MadWanderer
Pairing(s): Ash/Misty, Ash/May, Misty/Tracey
Fandom: Pokemon
Genre(s): Romance/Angst
Note: This is something that I've been wanting to do for a while. I shall be doing them in batches of ten since I don't want to go through the trouble of putting it all together-LJ cuts hate me after all (-_-) HOWEVER! I must warn all readers, this is VERY different to what I've normally written, as you can see from the pairings. But no worries~ It'll all end relatively well. A good song to listen to this is Everything You Want By Vertical Horizon. Trust me, I don't know how but it fits. XD You'll see as you read along.

---

Once the wheels of change have begun turning, it's hard to stop them moving


I: He knew

"Why didn't you tell him?" Tracey asked me as he helped me feed the Pokemon. "You could have."

"Why didn't I tell who what?" I asked.

I tried to keep my voice level and even. A blush crept onto my face. Was he referring to...?

"You know who and what I mean," he said. He was smiling.

"Enlighten me Trace," I said. "I, honestly don't know what you mean."

He shrugged, an apology in disguise, and continued to drop the Pokechow in the tank. He knew. He knew how I felt for him. He knew how I felt for Ash.



II: One Girl

"Hey Ash, have you had any girlfriends?" May asked me.

We were sitting alone in the cafeteria of the Pokemon Center.

"Huh?" Where was she going with this? "Why?"

"I'm just asking." May winked mischievously.

"Well... none." I admitted sheepishly.

"Really?" May's eyes widened in surprise. "How come?"

"Well, I never wanted one." Until she left. "And besides girls don't like me."

"Aww! That's so naïve!" May giggled.

"Naïve? How?"

"There are plenty of girls who must like you so just choose the one you want most!"

There was one I wanted. The one girl that I missed.



III: Being Here

Sometimes I forget how you used to act, Ash. I'm getting used to living in those memories. But sometimes I forget life isn't about remembering, it's about living. Tracey seems to remind me everyday.

"You go Misty!" He shouted. The sole spectator in the stands as I battled. "C'mon Corsola!"

"Corsola, use Tackle!" I ordered, smiling.

The battle was over. I've won and Tracey was at my side instantly, congratulating me. We wished the trainer good luck and walked to the Pokemon Center.

"Hey Trace," I said.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"For what?"

"For being here." I smiled.

"Anything for you Misty."



IV: Shopping

May sure likes shopping, I think. She had been rushing me around, from one shop to another for the past two hours. Brock and Max had mysteriously disappeared to leave me as her only bag carrier.

"Doesn't this dress look cute?" She asked. "Here, I'll go try it on!"

She rushed into the fitting room, leaving me to wait outside. I should have known better than to let my guard down.

"How do I look?"

I look up and for a moment, all I can do is stare.

"Wow.. You look great!"

"Really?"

"Really!"

And she does. She looks beautiful.



V: Old Memories

I stared down at the pictures of us in my photo album, telling stories to Azurill of my crazy adventures.

I lurk amongst the old memories of myself with Ash and Brock. There are so many pictures but then these give way to recent ones.

There are pictures of Tracey and I. One where we're swimming in the pool. One of the show we've had. One with the two of us just talking.

So many pictures, so many new memories to stock and file away in my memory to be taken out another day. I've had enough remembering old memories.



VI: Plans for A Visit

I've won another battle again. Everyone is congratulating me, but something's missing. What could it be?

Pikachu watched me curiously, as I stalked my room. Why was I pacing? Why was I feeling depressed? Why was even I thinking? I knew what to do. I smiled as I turn to face Pikachu. He still can't read all my thoughts but we're working on it.

"Hey buddy. Let's go visit Misty," I said.

Pikachu perked up considerably at the idea and nodded happily.

It's been a while since I last saw Misty. I knew I wanted to see her face again.



VII: Don't know

"He's coming to visit Cerulean City," Tracey said.

"Who?"

"Who else? Ash."

I felt a blush stain my indifference. "Really?"

"Yeah."

"Ah."

There was silence then––

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Tell him what?" I asked. "Tell him that I like him and destroy our friendship? Tell him that I wish he would just be with me?" I turn away. "I can't. I'm not ready."

"When will you be?"

"I don't know." The truth of my answer scares me. Didn't I used to be so sure? Why was I suddenly afraid? Why was I scared? "I just don't know."



VIII: Everyone Knew

"So Ash, tell me what's the point in us visiting Misty?" May asked. There's a knowing smile on her pleasant features.

"What do mean?"

"I mean, are you planning on telling her?"

"Telling Misty what?" What was she talking about?

"Oh, don't act dumb! You like her, right?"

"Huh?!" I was completely bewildered. Where had she gotten that from? I had never told her that or anyone else for that matter. "She's my friend, of course I like her."

"Not like that! I mean, she's the girl you want!"

"WHAT?!"

"Ohhhhh! So Brock was right. Awesome!"

Oh great, everyone knew.



IX: A Feeling

I walked about the Gym, Azurill in my arms, lost in thought. Tomorrow Ash was coming and Daisy had arranged for a show. I should've been thankful for her involvement––the gym had been so quiet––but I wasn't.

I was afraid of Ash's visit and I couldn't shake the feeling off. He was going to be in the first row at the show and I wasn't too sure about that.

Tracey was going to play the prince, I was to be the mermaid––everything like usual but I still had this strange feeling. Something was to happen...but what?



X: Jealousy

Ash sat in the first row, Pikachu in his arms, friends sitting around him, waiting for Daisy's last narration of the show. He just wanted this to end so he could go see Misty. He needed to finally see her and maybe––

"And the prince sealed the confession with one breathtaking kiss..." Daisy's voice was heard.

"What?!" Ash snapped to attention.

"There's a kiss?" May asked.

"There was never one before!" Brock murmured.

Ash watched the scene unfurl before him, his insides turned cold at the sight of his friend, Tracey, kissing the girl he loved, Misty. He felt numb.

---

( Batch II - Drabbles XI - XX )
( Batch III - Drabbles XXI - XXX )
( Batch IV - Drabbles XXXI - XL )
( Batch V - Drabbles XLI - L )

Title: Nobody Knows Me At All
Author: ilcocoabean
Fandom(s): BBC Sherlock/ Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Jamey Moriarty, Sebastiana Moran, Sherlock Holmes, Joan Watson, Carly Powers
Genre(s): AU, Crossover, Femslash, Genderswap
Rating: PG for death.
Word Count: 4,150
Summary: Jamey Moriarty doesn't care much for her family.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.
Note: This was supposed to be something else but I'm happy with the result.
Un-betaed and not brit-picked. Pointers and comments would be helpful.

AO3



The first time Jamey Moriarty sees her is in Diagon Alley. She only gets a glimpse of dark curly locks amid books at Flourish and Blotts before Jamey is whisked past the shop, her mother chatting happily about Hogwarts. Later she sees her in Madame Malkin's just as she's exiting, arguing with an older red-head girl. She brushes past Jamey without a second glance but Jamey stares after her, wondering for a brief moment what her name is.

On September first Jamey finds out.

Professor Bell has all the first years gathered in a large room while they wait to be sorted. Jamey's mother, told her exactly what to expect, an old hat would shout out her house name, cheering would occur from her house, and then good food was to be expected. Jamey is glad she isn't nervous like her fellow classmates—they're making undignified spectacles of themselves with their ridiculous whispered conversations over what the ceremony would be like. The only one who seems as calm as her is the girl Jamey met on the platform.

The girl was Sebastiana Moran and she had bumped into Jamey but Jamey's father, insisted that she apologize, which Jamey did. She wasn't stupid; she'd heard of the Morans. They were an excellent family of Aurors and prestigious office-holding members at the Ministry of Magic. A proper and respectable wizarding family that had the best connections—connections her father could use.

Sebastiana stands a little away from her, a blank expression on her face and eyes trained directly in front of her. Jamey looks away and turns back to the front, keeping an eye on the curly-haired girl ignoring a brown-haired boy beside her. Clearly she was as bored as Jamey was.

When Professor Bell comes back to collect them, they form into line and are led into the Great Hall. Jamey refuses to allow any form of awe come over her features and instead looks at the professors sitting at the High Table. She recognizes a few from old newspapers and from books her mother had in their library. Minerva McGonagall sits in the middle with Filius Flitwick on her left and an empty seat on her right (probably for Professor Bell), beside Professor Flitwick sits Neville Longbottom (Jamey recognizes him from newspapers talking about his involvement in the war) and Professor Slughorn (her mother had rather liked him). She doesn't know any of the others but they all stare at her and her classmates, polite smiles on their faces.

Jamey sighs and waits for Professor Bell to begin. Names are called and Jamey carefully watches each one, memorizing names, faces and houses, tucking the information for later. Many of the students are nervous, visible trembling as they walk forward to sit on the stool. One turns a particularly interesting shade of red when he trips on his way.

“Sherlock Holmes!” Professor Bell calls out.

The curly-haired girl steps forward, smoothly sitting on the stool, hands folded neatly in her lap. The hat pauses for a few moments before it makes its decision.

“RAVENCLAW!”

The table on the left cheers and claps politely as Sherlock makes her way over to them, gracefully settling herself next to her classmates. A few more names are called and then Sebastiana is called forward. She saunters up to the stool and sits down. Within a few moments she makes her way over to the Slytherin table.

“Jamey Moriarty!”

Jamey walks forward. Her mother was a Ravenclaw and had expressed numerous times over the years how she hoped her only daughter would go to her house but Jamey knows it won't happen. On the night before she left for Hogwarts, her father had asked her to come to his study. He explained the qualities of each house, explained what type of dynamics she'd see, explained which house he expected her to be sorted into.

“You're intelligent of course,” he said. “but you aren't like your mother are you Jamey?”

Jamey hadn't responded but she knew what her father had implied. She sits on the stool, with the hat whispering in her ears. Being in Ravenclaw means fitting in didn't it? It means perhaps becoming friends with Sherlock Holmes. It means being the brightest student in her class. But that isn't what she wants—that life is too easy.

“Well then. Guess it's... SLYTHERIN!”

She waits for the hat to be taken off her head before she goes to her designated table. She passes by the Ravenclaws and sees Sherlock watching. She keeps her face devoid of emotion and sits next to Sebastiana who turns to look her over.

Jamey allows the inspection, brow raising a little as a small smirk makes itself present on her classmate's lips.

“Should have guessed,” Sebastiana says.

.

Jamey and Tiana (“I hate my name,” she said. “Either it's Tiana or Moran.”) are assigned to the same dormitory with two twin sisters, Artemis and Harriet Pinner. They slip into bed without speaking, tired from the feast and from talking to others. Jamey found the entire ordeal ridiculous and stupid. It had been a welcome surprise for Tiana to divert unwanted attention after the first few awkward questions directed at Jamey.

“Your father married a muggle-born didn't he?” Carly Powers asked. “How did that happen?”

“It just did.” Jamey shrugged.

“I have an uncle who married a muggle.” Tiana volunteered. “She's a famous politician in the muggle world.”

Although that had made many turn away it was clear that it wouldn't be forgotten from the way Power's gaze lingered in Jamey's direction. However, Tiana acted as a buffer answering questions with long anecdotes of her own life at home, refusing to allow Powers to take a hold of the conversation once more as she so desperately wanted to from the look she gave Jamey every time they lapsed into silence.

Jamey felt annoyance over the whole situation. She didn't need to justify her mother's existence and by extension justify her own. It hadn't been the first time this had happened of course. Many of her cousins had taunted her for it and of course her aunts and uncles commented about it behind closed doors when they thought the Moriartys couldn't overhear.

It was something that she'd put up with most of her life but Moran was obviously having none of that considering the way she kept close to Jamey when they left their dormitory the next day. She found it slightly endearing and cute but it aggravated her that people started to believe she couldn't go anywhere without Tiana.

It's a week after the feast and she's sitting alone in the library when Powers sneaks up behind her, followed by a gang of other girls.

“So, the mutt's finally by herself is she?”

The only reaction Jamey allows herself is a raise of her eyebrows before returning to her book. Powers, however moves forward and plucks the book from her hands. Jamey looks up, angrily as the other girl flips through the pages.

“Hogwarts: A History?” Powers asks. “Really? How boring.”

Jamey says nothing as she waits for Powers to finish. Before she even realizes what's happening Powers throws the book, aiming for her face. She's just about to duck when the book stops and hovers in mid-air and begins to float away. Jamey and the other Slytherin girls watch it glide into the hands of Sherlock Holmes. She looks pleased when the book lands in her hands.

“This is exactly what I was looking for,” she says.

Jamey stares at her and blinks when suddenly another girl peeks out from behind her, (Gryffindor Joan Watson). She squints at the frozen scene before them.

“... er hello?” She greets.

Powers glares and huffs away, the other girls following her. Jamey stares after them. Such a hasty retreat... most curious. She turns back to Joan who is watching the others girls as well. She looks at Jamey with a small smile.

“I hope we didn't interrupt anything,” she says.

“Of course we did, Joan,” Sherlock scoffs. “What does it matter though? We've got I needed, let's go.”

Sherlock is already walking away as she says this, leaving Joan to hurry after her. The sandy-brown haired girl looks back and waves nervously as she walks away. Jamey considers the event carefully for a few moments, cataloguing each detail before she moves to another part of the library.

Tiana joins her half an hour later, looking furious as she slams her books on the table. She's just come back from a meeting with Professor Slughorn—probably something about Slug Club.

“Had a good day?” Jamey asks.

Her friend glares at her and Jamey finds herself laughing.

.

The months leading up to the holidays are uneventful. Jamey doesn't bother throwing herself into her studies, as she supposes is expected of her. She receives a few owls from her mother asking after her class assignments and how she's fitting in at Hogwarts. She receives one letter from her father telling her to concentrate on her spellwork. Nothing too exciting.

She and Tiana spend most of their time in the library however it's not to do homework. Most days the two girls are reading other books. Jamey loves reading on dragons and Tiana has discovered a love for dangerous plants she's never heard of.

Occasionally the girls walk through the castle, learning its moving stairs and hidden hallways. On a whim, Jamey tries to convince Tiana to duel her but the girl refuses.

“I'd probably hurt you,” she says.

“No, you wouldn't.” Jamey glares. “I wouldn't let you.”

The option of practice is taken out of her hands on a cold December morning just a week before she's meant to go home for Christmas. Jamey is making her way to the library to meet Tiana, when Powers pushes her into an unused classroom. Jamey stumbles over the desks and whips around to glare at the group of girls filling in behind Powers (Josephine Harrison, Vincenza Clay, Willamina Morris).

“Fancy meeting you here,” Powers says. “Usually you're always in the library.”

“I'm flattered you keep such close tabs me,” Jamey replies coolly. “Didn't think you cared.”

“I don't.” Powers snaps. “Why would I care about you? You're nothing. You're filth. You're not even fit to lick my shoes. Your mother's a mudblood, and your father brought his entire family dishonour by marrying her and having you.”

Jamey's hands curl into fists and before she knows what she's doing she's reaching for her wand just as Powers reaches for hers. The green sparks coming from Powers amuse her. Jamey knows how to duel. She isn't the small girl that only read and didn't know how to act. She's going to prove this girl wrong. With a wide grin, she opens her mouth to utter her curse.

.

Professor Slughorn dismisses Powers and her group first before rounding on Jamey. Jamey tilts her chin up a little higher. She knows her punishment will probably be more severe than a simple reduction of points but she's glad of it. At least that will be one thing she deserves from all this.

“That was an excellent display of the spellwork there Miss Moriarty.” He smiles. “In fact it's one of the best I've ever witnessed from a first year.”

Jamey blinks, thrown off by the sudden change in demeanour. Then she remembers who she's talking to. Professor Slughorn probably wants to recruit her into his special club. She blinks a few more times, understanding that this is the reaction he's looking for.

“Thank you Professor,” she says, making sure there is uncertainty in her tone.

“Now, tell me. Where did you learn such spells? I'm sure they're not teaching you that so soon.”

“I taught myself,” she explains, hesitant, before she adds: “I read and I practice when I can.”

“Well it shows.”

She clasps and unclasps her hands, knowing he'll notice the gesture and take it for nerves. She's proven right when he tuts and motions for her to sit at one of the desks.

“Don't worry, I'm not going to punish you. In fact I think we can arrange something that suits you and your talents.”

He procures a tea set with a wave of his wand and busies himself in pouring her a cup. She takes a small sip, making sure to smile at him in gratitude.

.

“Did you at least have Madam Hudson take a look at those?” Tiana is sitting across from her, balancing a book in her lap, as she points a quill at Jamey's cheek. “They look a little deep.”

“I did,” Jamey replies. “She said I was fine.”

“Well, considering how you left the other girls, of course she'd say that.” Tiana rolls her eyes.

Jamey grins a little, ignoring the pain that flares up as she stretches the skin. Apparently news had travelled fast. Most of the first years in the common room know and those that don't know are finding out from others. Some of the older students cast Jamey speculative glances.

They've underestimated her. They didn't know what she was capable of. Some are surprised and others a little skeptical but they all keep clear of her. Except for Tiana of course. She had taken one look at Jamey and had spoken to her as if nothing had happened—as if she'd expected it all along and Jamey isn't sure what to do with that.

.

How her father hears of her duel, she'll never really know but the next morning Jamey receives an owl from him, telling her he's pleased that she's taking his advice seriously. A postscript from her mother manages to extend the scroll by another foot which has Jamey scowling by the end of it.

“What is it?” Tiana asks.

“My mother wants me home earlier than expected and she's gone ahead and arranged it without asking me,” Jamey says.

“What are you complaining for?” Tiana rolls her eyes. “It means getting out of classes earlier.”

Jamey makes a face that she's sure speaks levels of how she'd like to respond to that. Tiana smirks a little.

“People will get the wrong idea,” Jamey explains.

“Oh?” Tiana raises a brow at her. “And since when do you care what people think?”

“Don't be absurd.” Jamey scoffs.

They lapse into silence as they finish their toast. Jamey is trying not too think too deeply over her mother's actions. She knows her father will have tried to dissuade her, citing her studies as an argument but when her mother frets, there's no one way to stop her from taking action. However Jamey is concerned as well. This early departure will mark her as someone with privileges. Someone very special among the other students. And that's the last thing she needs.

There are a number of reasons she hasn't tried to control the attention surrounding her. She prefers for others to think she is ordinary—well as ordinary as a girl could be with excellency in curses and spells—and easily disregarded. She doesn't need that attention yet.

Still, perhaps this can be of use to her. She can assume the role of the coddled daughter but with a few added changes to it. For one thing, she'll have to resume her quiet conduct in classes after the holidays. She'd also have to stay closer to Tiana so as to appear nervous about the attention.

That's another thing she's been choosing to neglect as well. Tiana's friendship is welcomed by herself and obviously her parents but she cannot quite understand what to do with it. Jamey laments her social skills for a moment before deciding their unimportance once more. She'd become friends with Tiana hadn't she? Obviously she wasn't totally incapable in that aspect, she just needed practice.

“I suppose I'm mostly worried about how you'll entertain yourself without me,” Jamey says.

Tiana levels a flat look at her and Jamey shrugs.

“It's just a thought,” Jamey says.

“I'll be fine,” Tiana snaps. “Let's see how you hold up with that worried mum of yours.”

Jamey scowls and flicks a piece of toast at her which Tiana dodges easily.

.

When Jamey gets off the train, she finds her mother and father are at the end of platform. Her mother kisses her on the cheek and Jamey allows her to fuss over her hair (“It's gotten long, you need a trim dear.”) while her father takes care of her luggage.

“Come, the car is waiting,” he says.

Jamey follows and her mother curls an arm around her shoulders as they walk. They pass through the barrier and into the bustle of the muggle station. Families and children are prepared for the cold weather, pushing along trolleys of luggage, obviously on their way to visit relatives in other parts of the country. Her father is a few meters ahead when the shot rings out. Jamey's eyes widen and her mother stops. There are screams and suddenly chaos erupts as another shot follows.

“Edmund!” Her mother's scream is loud and the note of hysteria is justified when her father doesn't respond.

Her mother pushes past the people running in the opposite direction and Jamey hurries after her, breathing fast as she slips out her wand. By the time she finds her mother again Jamey sees that she has already taken her wand out as well, muttering spells under her breath as she stares down at her husband. There's blood everywhere and a man lies a few feet away. Jamey stares at him and recognizes the familiar shade of brown eyes that belong to her mother as well. A relative?

“Edmund, no, no, sweetie.” Her mother is sobbing. “Please, no.”

“Yolanda.” He reaches up to cup her cheek and smiles. Jamey walks closer and he looks at her. “Jamey...”

A crack in the air resonates throughout the station, followed by several others and Jamey knows the ministry is here. Healers are surrounding her mother and she's screaming, insisting they save him, they bring him back, and all Jamey can do is watch, too shocked to properly react when someone pulls her away from the sight of blood and screams and waves of wands that are focusing on the men lying on the floor and the muggles still running around.

Jamey wants to reach out and touch her father. She wants to make sure. She needs to know. When she struggles, the hands keeping her back take a firmer hold, and she snarls. They need to let her go. They need to let her see. Her mother is suddenly upon her, gripping her tightly in her arms, steering her away from the sight and Jamey screams.

“Shh, Jamey,” she whispers.

Her mother's voice breaks as she speaks her name and Jamey stops struggling, allowing the older woman to pull her fully into an embrace. Jamey feels the tears fall on her head but she doesn't pull away.

.

The wake is quiet. Oh people show up—family that Jamey has never even heard of—but they don't offer condolences to her mother. They offer it to Jamey, in whispers and pats on her head. Her mother stands by the coffin, crying silently as she stares down at her husband. No one bothers to offer their last farewell to her father and no one bothers to speak to the catatonic woman. Tiana had come as well, offering Jamey a silent look before leaving with her family. It had been sufficient. Jamey stands in a corner, eyes trained on her father.

Three people suddenly stand in her line of vision and Jamey is forced to bite down the insult half-formed on her lips and look up. It's Carly Powers with her parents.

“We're sorry for your loss,” a stony-faced woman says. “My cousin didn't deserve such an unfortunate fate.”

Cousin?

Her confusion must show on her face because the man hurries to explain:

“We apologize if your father has never mentioned us before. We'd sent owls to arrange a visit for the holidays but it seems...” He shakes his head with a sigh.

Jamey nods wordlessly and watches as the Powers family move to the parlor, where the rest of the guests are gorging themselves on the food provided. Carly looks back at her and smirks. Jamey keeps her expression perfectly clear as she turns back to her vigil. She finds her mother has moved, considering eyes looking at Carly before turning back to Jamey.

She resists the urge to look away and instead holds her mother's gaze. Then her mother nods and turns back to the coffin.

.

Jamey is lying on her bed when she hears the door creak open. She closes her eyes and eases her breathing. Her mother sits beside her and combs her fingers through her hair. The silence in the room is eerie and Jamey swears she heard the muggle traffic before. Then she hears the sound of wood hitting wood. Jamey doesn't chance a glimpse but she knows it's her mother's wand which she's settled on her bedside table.

“Did you know that was your uncle?” He mother whispers. “My brother, such a fool. My parents sent him to a mental institution when I was born. Apparently he tried to kill me. Then again my parents were to blame for that, I suppose. Let your child watch how you do something and obviously they'll want to show you in return.”

Jamey mumbles something unintelligible under her breath and tries to turn. Her mother shushes her and eases the move. Reaching down she pulls the covers up, pressing lightly against Jamey's shoulders.

“Your father was like my parents. Trying to make their children fit to their ways without asking. And I'm not going to do that to you. You don't let anyone tell you what to do.” Jamey felt her mother's mouth by her ear. “You're going to be brilliant, all on your own.”

.

Jamey heads to the local muggle library the next day. Her mother offers her company but Jamey declines.

“I want to be alone,” Jamey said. “And I don't want to be here.”

Her mother had understood perfectly.

The library isn't too far and Jamey knows her mother won't worry if she's gone for a few hours. When she was younger Jamey remembers she and her mother would visit occasionally. These visits stopped when she was seven or so and she displayed her first involuntary act of magic. Her father had been very proud of her and bought her a new toy broomstick.

She walks through the doors, judging her movements by memory, and heads to the librarian sitting at a desk.

After being explained how to use the technology, Jamey begins searching the database. Her mother's maiden surname isn't common so the search gets done fast. Fumbling with what the librarian called a mouse, she clicks on the first document. It's cut off and Jamey knows there should be more but when she doesn't see a button or any way to continue, she goes back and continues her reading.

After a few more articles abruptly end in the same fashion she gets up and asks the librarian for help again.

“My parents...” Jamey sighs. “They've never—”

“You've never used a computer before?” the librarian offers kindly. “Don't worry, I can show you the basics.”

A half hour later and Jamey has the basics down: how to scroll, copy, and print. It's fairly easy and the librarian offers her help over the week up until the holidays. She accepts and over the course of the next few days Jamey becomes acquainted with the muggle technology available in the library. She learns about the printer and the copy machine. She learns about the Internet and even gets her own e-mail address.

Her mother lies in bed for the most part, getting up only to make meals and tuck Jamey into bed. At night Jamey stays up reading, looking over the still prints of newspaper articles. She keeps quills and parchment by her bed and writes down as many notes, emerging from her room each morning with ink all over her fingers.

On Christmas Eve Jamey doesn't bother getting out of bed and instead turns once more to her papers and scrolls. Her research in the library has become vital in understanding her family. When she sits at the table for breakfast, she watches her mother carefully.

This woman is a product of power, hatred, and murder yet she hasn't escaped it. Her muggle family is surrounded by death, either brought about by their own hands or by their orders. She wonders vaguely how her mother has entertained the thought that everything will be all right now that her father is dead; that somehow the evil she experienced in her own childhood will disappear. Jamey considers no illusions that she's escaped.

When her mother turns to her and asks her why she looks so serious Jamey simply shakes her head with a smile.

“It's nothing mother.”

Title: Each Memory
Author: ilcocoabean
Fandom: BBC Sherlock/ Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Sherlock/Joan, Mycroft Holmes, Mike Stamford, Molly Hooper/Matthew Hooper
Genre(s): AU, Crossover, Femslash, Fluff, Genderswap, Smut
Rating: R for sexual content and language
Word Count: 2,801
Summary: Their first meeting, their first kiss and their first time, though not necessarily in that order.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.
Note: This has turned into a series. A full blown series. I don't know what I'm getting myself into. Seriously. Just idek but I'm having fun with my plotting. For those wondering, their first meeting occurs in their first year, first kiss in fifth year and first time sometime after they leave Hogwarts and get a flat in London.
Un-betaed and not brit-picked. Any pointers and comments would be welcomed!

ETA: Right so I changed Molly to Matthew. Slight change but definitely significant in later stories!

AO3

---

Joan kisses her way down Sherlock's neck, hands tangling in her long dark curls. She savours this pliant Sherlock for a few moments, exploring the expanse of skin offered to her, before Sherlock begins to reach back to touch. Her slim hands move down to Joan's shirt, pulling it up, exposing her skin to the air.

She gasps when Sherlock goes directly for her breasts and Sherlock uses this momentary distraction to flip Joan over. She blinks at the change but moves her arms up as Sherlock pushes the shirt up over her head. The article of clothing is thrown somewhere over the bed and onto the floor, joining her jumper and boots; Joan finds no time to spare a thought for cleanliness before her attention is drawn back to the young woman above her.

Settling herself more comfortably on Joan's hips, Sherlock's mouth sweeps down to touch skin. Hissing at hot breath ghosting over her neck Joan tries unsuccessfully to stop the moan that slips from her mouth when Sherlock's hand moves between her legs.

Not fair, she thinks. Joan wants to touch Sherlock. She needs to touch her and Sherlock is being... being something. Joan gasps when her bra is pushed aside and Sherlock's tongue swirls around her nipple. She needs to touch Sherlock, she thinks again. And this time the thought takes hold while Sherlock pulls away to travel down her stomach.

“Sherlock.”

“Mmm?”

“Sherlock. Look listen will you just stop and—?”

She sits up, brow raised. Joan suppresses the noise of protest at the loss of heat and looks up at her girlfriend.

“You wanted me to stop?” Sherlock asks.

“Oh shut up, that's not what I meant,” Joan reaches up and pulls her down by the collar. “Come here.”

Sherlock moves obligingly and Joan brings her down for a kiss. She parts her mouth and Sherlock's tongue reaches out eagerly. They curl around each other and Joan thinks not for the first time, how she'd love to kiss this mouth forever.

.

Sherlock and Joan were huddled under a tree and staring up at the sky when Sherlock raised her wand. Leaves began to dance around in the air above them.

“Show-off,” Joan laughed.

“Practising,” Sherlock said.

Joan watched the leaves for a few minutes before flicking her wand over to the twigs on the ground. They flew straight through each of the leaves and pinned them down. Joan smiled at Sherlock who narrowed her eyes but with an amused quirk gracing her lips.

“Incendio.” Sherlock pointed her wand and the twigs burst into flames.

Joan rolled her eyes. “Aguamenti.” Water issued from her wand and the twigs sizzled out. “Really Sherlock?”

“Bored.” Sherlock said.

“Do you want to go for a walk in Hogsmeade? Maybe get a butterbeer?”

“No.”

“So then do you want to go work on our essays for Professor B—?”

“Finished that last night.” Sherlock moved further down onto the ground allowing her entire body to stretch out on the grass.

“You... You finished a two feet essay on troll wars in a night?” Joan stared at her friend incredulously.

“Four hours and it was four feet.” Sherlock corrected.

“Right then, overachiever.” Joan sat up straighter and reached over for her bag. “Seeing as how I'm not done I might as well—”

“No.” Sherlock sat up glaring. “You have two more days to finish it. Stay.”

Joan raised her brows at her before she sighed and leaned back against the tree. Sherlock watched her for a few moments, probably waiting for Joan to get up and start running back up the grounds to the castle, before lying down once more. Shaking her head, Joan closed her eyes, and wondered why of all people she chose to befriend this girl.

.

Joan looked down the station, pushing her trolley along uneasily. Her parents walked behind her, whispering to each other in low tones.

“I'm fairly certain this platform doesn't exist.”

“Quiet, Joan can hear you.”

“Well I'm just saying—”

“Here.” Joan said at last. “This is where Mike said it'd be... I just have to run up to it.”

“Run up to—Joan are you sure?” Her father stared down at her.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “I'll—I'll go first then, shall I?”

“We'll be right behind you, dear.” Her mother smiled.

She took a deep breath and set her trolley directly in front of the barrier.

“Make sure you don't stop,” Mike told her back in Flourish & Blotts. “It's always better to go at a bit of a run too.”

Keeping these words in mind, she began to run up to the barrier. She tried to keep her eyes open, but just at the last minute she closed them, preparing herself for the inevitable crash. When she felt none, she opened her eyes and found herself standing on a platform filled with people. Next to the platform was a scarlet steam engine. Students were leaning out of the windows, talking to parents and siblings.

She looked behind her and saw her parents standing there, looking a little dazed but otherwise fine. In the archway above them were the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.

As Joan was rolling her trolley down the platform, her name was called out. She turned and saw Mike not far behind her, pushing a trolley with his own belongings.

“Oh hello,” Joan smiled. “Mum, dad, this is Mike Stramford.”

“Pleased to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Watson,” Mike greeted. “My parents are coming up behind me.”

Behind him were his parents looking a little out of sorts with their regular clothing. Mrs. Stramford didn't look too bad with her long blue flower patterned dress but Mr. Stramford was wearing a pair of loose ripped jeans and a dress shirt complete with ruffles. Joan suppressed a giggle.

“Want to go look for a seat together?” Mike asked.

“All right.” She nodded.

After receiving some help from their parents, the two got their trunks up the steps and headed down the train in search of an empty compartment. They found one, near the end of the train and after setting their trunks in the luggage rack and leaving behind Mike's toad and Joan's barn owl, they got off the train to give their parents one final goodbye.

“Send us an owl when you get there, we want to know which house our son gets into,” Mr Stramford said.

“House?” Joan's father asked.

“Oh, the children are sorted into houses,” Mrs. Stramford explained. “They become like a family to them—”

A whistle interrupted their conversation so after a quick hug from their parents, Joan and Mike hopped back onto the train. They waved from the window as the train sped away. Joan tried not to think of her nervousness of being so far from home and from her family (she felt a pang of sadness that her older brother had preferred to stay home than see his sister off) nor of how little she knew of the wizarding world. Mike had told her there were plenty of students like her.

Shaking her head from these thoughts Joan followed Mike to their compartment. A few students were still dragging their trunks along the train, hoping for seats, others ran past them, laughing, and others already in their robes were yelling at those who were running. When they finally reached their compartment, they found two girls standing in front of it, glaring at each other with another smaller boy standing between them, looking a little worried as he stared at the girls. One of the girls currently glaring, had changed into her robes and pinned to her chest was a shiny badge with the letter P on it. She looked slightly older then the other girl despite their almost equal height. The younger girl was wearing a plain black skirt and a purple dress shirt; Joan noticed her curls were rather pretty.

“I don't need you to babysit me Mycroft, I'll be fine on my own. Matthew is keeping me company.”

“Like it or not, Mummy asked me to keep an eye on you. I just need to know which compartment you'll be in so I can send—”

“We haven't found one yet,” the small boy beside them said. “Sher—”

“Hello,” Mike said. “I'm sorry if you don't mind me interrupting but we have room in our compartment if you'd don't mind sharing one. It's just behind you.”

The girl with curly hair turned to him, sharp grey eyes assessing Joan and Mike in turn. Her anger smoothed out and was replaced by what Joan recognized as triumph.

“See Mycroft? Now will you kindly piss off?”

The older girl glared for a moment before rolling her eyes, “Anthea and I will be making hourly checks on you. So you better be here.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” the other girl replied with an impatient wave of her hand. “Matthew and I will be here.”

Mycroft turned to go, ignoring Mike and Joan completely as she made her way past them. Mike moved forward and pulled open the door, beckoning the others inside. The boy, Matthew, went in first, offering a small smile as he bent down to pick up a ginger cat from the floor.

“Matthew Hooper,” he said. “Thank you for letting us sit with you.”

“No problem,” Mike replied. “Everywhere else is full I expect. My name's Mike Stramford by the way. That's Joan Watson there.”

“Hello,” Joan smiled. She turned to the other girl who strode in, eyeing the luggage rack with interest as a black cat slunk in beside her. “And you are...?”

“Muggle-born or half?” She asked abruptly.

“Sorry?” Joan blinked.

“Muggle-born or half?” she repeated.

“Muggle-born,” Mike said.

“What's a muggle-born?” Joan asked.

“It's the term used for witches or wizards without magical parents,” Mike explained.

“How did you know I was one or the other?” Joan turned to the girl who was now sitting on the seat by the door. “You just met me.”

“I would have recognized your surname if you were from an old magical family. If your mother was a witch then her surname would have changed thus it would have been impossible to be certain without asking.” She explained. “Oh and the name is Sherlock Holmes.”

.

Joan smiled a little fondly at the memory. Even then Sherlock had been arrogant. As if that were a natural trait one could be born with. Joan turned to look down at her companion. Sherlock's eyes were closed and she had the tips of her fingers pressed together over her chest.

“What are you thinking about?” Joan asked.

Sherlock didn't bother responding other than with a raised brow.

“Come on, don't leave me talking to myself Sherlock.”

“You.”

“Sorry?”

“I was thinking about you,” Sherlock explained.

Joan blinked a couple of times. What could Sherlock possibly be thinking about her? Was it an experiment? Was Sherlock thinking of—

“Oh be a little more creative Joan, my life doesn't completely revolve around experiments,” Sherlock said.

Joan suppressed a laugh as Sherlock's eyes opened to glare at her.

Shrugging Joan went on to say, “it's you. Of course it's about an experiment.”

Sherlock crossed her arms and Joan giggled.

“I don't see what's so amusing,” Sherlock said.

“You are,” Joan replied.

Sherlock's expression flickered for a moment, and Joan was fascinated to see a faint pink tinge her cheeks. Before she could inspect further, Sherlock was already sitting up abruptly, pushing herself off the ground. She began to pace furiously, throwing looks at Joan every so often.

Joan watched in confusion before chalking it up to her previous theory of Sherlock wanting to try an experiment on her. She was just about to reach over for her bag to get out a piece of parchment on which to doodle when Sherlock suddenly hovered over her, gaze set intently upon her face.

“Sherlock, um. What are you doing?” Joan asked.

“An experiment,” Sherlock murmured. “Just... hold still.”

Joan did as she was told, looking up at Sherlock and trying not to stare anywhere but at her eyes. She found her gaze slipping however, to Sherlock's cheekbones—sharp and impossibly beautiful—then down to her cheeks—pale—before swooping down to her lips—small, pretty, pink—and fixating there stubbornly. She watched, entranced as Sherlock's tongue peeked out to sweep quickly across her lips before suddenly they were on hers, a swift gentle pressure that left Joan blinking as soon as it was over.

Sherlock turned away abruptly. Joan looked at her back for a moment or two before suddenly she was up and scrambling to find Sherlock's line of sight.

“What was that for?” Joan asked.

“I told you,” Sherlock replied, averting her eyes when Joan reached out to grip her shoulders to keep her from moving away. “It was an experiment.”

“Bullocks,” Joan said. “Sherlock that was your first kiss. Don't lie to me. I know you haven't been with... anyone. I—Sherlock why?”

Sherlock looked up at her for moment before she shrugged out of Joan's hold and turned to look up at the tree.

“Sherlock...” Joan began in a low voice. “Sherlock why did you kiss me?”

Still, her friend refused to look at her. Joan was beginning to get annoyed. She hated it when Sherlock did this. Shutting herself away with a simple turn of her back, refusing to speak for hours on end. How did she expect Joan to stick around if it felt like she was talking to a brick wall? And if this was what she thought it was then... then she needed to know for sure. She needed to know if Sherlock... if Sherlock—

“Needed more data.” Sherlock's voice was small.

Joan's heart began to beat faster as she moved a little closer. “And was it sufficient?”

Sherlock made no reply. Joan bit her lip before clearing her throat uncertainly.

“Well... if you're still unsure. You're welcome to repeat the experiment,” Joan said. “If you'd like to of course.”

Sherlock turned around to look at her, eyes a little wide before her face broke into a grin. Joan moved forward first, reaching out for Sherlock's curls as Sherlock moved her hands to her cheeks. The kiss was as chaste as the first and Joan wasn't surprised to find Sherlock's eyes open throughout the kiss, gazing into hers. They broke away, Joan with a giggle and Sherlock with a small amused huff.

“Let's go get something to eat,” Joan said, reaching down to pull Sherlock's hand between hers.

“Not hungry,” Sherlock said.

“But I am,” Joan smiled. “Come on.”

“Fine.”

.

Joan groans, jolted out of her memory as Sherlock's hand worms its way into her jeans, pressing between her legs, insistently.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Joan whispers.

“That's the idea,” Sherlock replies.

It's a flurry of movement after that; Joan reaches up, pulling at the buttons barely keeping Sherlock's shirt on, impatiently pushing at her skirt when she's done with those. Joan takes in the stretch of pale skin over Sherlock's body before she reaches down to press her fingers into her hips, delighting in the sudden hiss that comes out of her girlfriend's mouth. Cursing under her breath, Joan flips Sherlock over again, pressing her into the mattress, mouth moving down her stomach and between her legs.

Sherlock's breathing becomes shallow as Joan's breath sweeps over her sex. Pulling Sherlock's legs over shoulders, Joan sets to work, eagerly, soaking up the tiny sounds that escape from Sherlock. It doesn't take long before Sherlock shudders around her, muttering nonsense under her breath as she arches off the bed.

Licking her lips, Joan moves up to the space beside her, reaching for her head, intent on giving her a kiss before Sherlock completely surprises her, pushing her down, and slipping two fingers inside of her and curling up. Joan moans, unsure whether to move into the pressure or away.

Sherlock shifts and presses her mouth back over Joan's breasts, sucking one nipple between her teeth. Joan, feels her mind crumble under Sherlock's touch, fading into a whimper as she throws her head back, gasping.

Dimly she notices Sherlock reach over for her wand on the bedside table.

“Accio,” she says.

Joan stirs when she feels a towel move between her legs. She looks over and watches Sherlock throw the towel on the floor before moving to lie beside her. Joan shifts and turns on her side, reaching over to curl her arm around Sherlock's waist. Sherlock flicks her wand down at the sheets bunched around their feet and Joan murmurs her approval at the warmth and settles herself in for sleep.

She can feel Sherlock's gaze on her and smiles when a brief kiss is pressed to her temple, with a hushed, “beautiful.”

Title: Come Back to Me
Author: ilcocoabean
Fandom: BBC Sherlock/ Harry Potter
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Sherlock/Joan
Genre(s): AU, Angst, Crossover, Femslash, Genderswap
Rating: PG
Word Count: 557
Summary: Sherlock decides to break up with Joan.
Disclaimer: All television shows, movies, books, and other copyrighted material referred to in this work, and the characters, settings, and events thereof, are the properties of their respective owners. As this work is an interpretation of the original material and not for-profit, it constitutes fair use.
Note: I accidentally fic'ed? Seriously this was supposed to be original then Joan came in and Sherlock showed up and suddenly it wasn't a high school but Hogwarts and so... yeah. Enjoy?

Oh and un-betaed and not brit-picked. Any pointers and comments would be great!

AO3

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“Letting go” had always been this tear-jerker scene in movies and sobbed about in poems as far Joan as could tell. She always thought it was silly and over dramatic yet here she was, staring down at her hands, willing away tears. She was in that moment and she hadn't even thought it would ever come.

What a mess, she thought. That's what this whole thing was. A stupid mess. Probably some deity's idea of a joke.

She pulled a face. She was internalizing again. Isn't that what her partners always said was wrong about her?

“You keep too much in,” Tim said (sweet, thoughtful boy).

“I feel like I'm always talking and you're never listening,” Jake said (jealous and egocentric to a fault).

“I don't know you,” Robert said (sensitive, crying and heartbroken).

Joan looked up from the arches of her fingers.

“Have you finished with your mental breakdown?” Sherlock asked.

Joan could have punched her. I should punch her, she thought decisively. She didn't however. She sighed and turned away from her girlfriend... ex-girlfriend.

“Stop that.” Sherlock moved with her, keeping in her line of sight. “We are having a serious discussion, you're not allowed to ignore me.”

“I'm not ignoring you Sherlock,” Joan said. “I'm just... Look just... I need some time to absorb this—” She took a deep breath. “Because to be quite honest I don't understand why we're breaking up. We're good—well I thought we were—”

“Oh don't be absurd.” Sherlock scoffed. “I'm not breaking up with you because we're incompatible.”

Joan's heart almost stopped. She stared wide-eyed up at Sherlock.

“I'm simply going abroad for the summer.” Sherlock said matter-of-factly.

“What?” Joan's mouth fell open. “Sherlock, what?”

“I don't wish to impose myself on you when I'm not here. We won't spend the holidays together so I'm relieving you of any romantic obligations you have toward me. When I get back, we'll resume our courtship.”

“You're kidding me,” Joan said.

“No, I'm perfectly serious. It would be in your best interests if you found companionship with someone else to relieve any—”

“Sherlock it doesn't work that way!” Joan yelled. “You—you have no idea. Oh God!” Joan turned again, searching for a bench, a rock, something where she could rest because this was too much and she was going to—

“Joan.”

She stopped. Sherlock was standing right behind her. Breath on the nape of her neck. Joan closed her eyes and waited.

“I'm doing this for you.”

“Stop it!” Joan rounded on her. “It's nine weeks. Nine bloody weeks Sherlock, why on earth do you want us to break up for nine weeks? What makes you even think I'd agree to this in the first place?”

“It seemed appropriate,” Sherlock said. “You will be in London and obviously you will be with friends and—”

“You—you idiot.” Joan reached up, intending to slap Sherlock but instead took a handful of her robes. Joan pulled her close and placed her forehead on Sherlock's chest. “You can't get rid of me that easily.”

“I'm only trying—”

“You aren't trying anything.” Joan rolled her eyes. “I expect a letter from you every two days.”

“But Joan—”

“Oh shut up Sherlock.” Joan laughed and raising herself on her tiptoes placed a chaste kiss on Sherlock's lips. “We'll live for nine weeks without each other.”