128 King's Road, Kensington and Chelsea - Second Floor Master Bedroom
This was a room filled with strange specins and old books.
Sunlight stread through dust-covered windows, casting golden columns of light where dust mites danced freely, illuminating the boy's ticulous profile.
His fingers gripped a delicate scalpel steadily, his movents gentle yet precise, as if sculpting a priceless treasure.
This was twelve-year-old Sherlock Hols.
Ever since the owl had delivered his Hogwarts acceptance letter last sumr, his life had undergone trendous changes.
What happens when a boy who firmly believes in science suddenly discovers he's a wizard?
—Where science and magic intersect, the story is about to begin.
After a year of study at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Sherlock had now beco a competent wizard.
At this mont, his already gray eyes were narrowed to slits, his expression focused with a hint of excitent.
It was as if everything around him had been shut out, leaving only him and the board before him in the entire world.
On the board was a toad.
A toad awaiting dissection.
After a mont, Sherlock took a deep breath, and the scalpel slowly descended.
The toad's abdon was instantly opened with a neat incision.
As he carefully separated the toad's muscle tissue, its internal structure was laid bare before him without reservation.
Just looking at the organs, they gave an overall impression of translucency, as if wrapped in a special mbrane.
This was due to what this toad had experienced in life—it had been repeatedly used as a subject for potion experints.
Sherlock used tweezers to gently pick up what appeared to be a liver-like organ, observed it carefully for a while, then placed it in a nearby container.
His movents were swift and his technique skilled—clearly, this wasn't his first ti doing such a thing.
Soon, what had been a complete toad was transford into a pile of organs and tissues under his hands.
He took out prepared potions and began the next step.
As Sherlock worked, he contemplated knowledge about toads and potions in his mind.
Mainly, he was using the toad's dissection to verify so of his hypotheses.
Ti flew by, and half an hour passed without notice.
Just then:
"Sherlock is upstairs, just go find him!"
The voice of Sherlock's mother, Mrs. Hols, ca from downstairs.
This was imdiately followed by the sound of hurried footsteps coming up from below.
Sherlock's right hand paused almost subtly, his brow furrowing slightly.
In just three seconds, Sherlock had already determined the visitor's identity from his mother's tone and the sound of footsteps on the stairs.
However, he didn't stop his work but continued with his task.
Just then, the footsteps stopped abruptly at the door.
Sherlock's door wasn't locked, so the visitor didn't need to knock.
But after seeing this scene from the doorway, the person couldn't help but stare in amazent, eyes full of disbelief.
Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say sothing, but was struck speechless by the sight before her.
After another mont, she finally couldn't help but speak:
"So... the reason you haven't been writing letters or calling is because you've been doing this?"
Hermione Granger.
Sherlock's friend from Hogwarts.
She was the first classmate to get to know Sherlock.
Before school even started last year, the two had already t at the Leaky Cauldron.
After the official start of term, they had progressed from "acquaintances" to people who could call each other by na through their shared love of spending ti in the library.
When Sherlock rescued Hermione from the troll on Halloween night, they officially beca friends.
Both wizards ca from Muggle families, and their family addresses were both in the Greater London area, so their parents got along well too.
For this reason, when the Granger family finished their trip and ca to King's Road, Mrs. Hols had let her go find Sherlock directly.
"Children have their own topics to discuss. We adults shouldn't interfere."
"Yes, yes, just let Hermione go find Sherlock directly."
Mr. Hols also chid in.
Mrs. Granger naturally had no objections—she also liked this observant little boy very much.
Especially after hearing from Hermione how he had deduced her and her husband's professions upon their first eting, she praised Sherlock even more highly.
Mr. Granger, however, frowned slightly.
But since his wife had already given her support, he couldn't say anything more.
As for Hermione, after getting permission from the adults, she had rushed upstairs.
She had been to Sherlock's house more than once and naturally knew where his room was.
Seeing this, Mr. Granger felt sowhat lancholy.
But soon, he was pulled aside by Mr. Hols.
"Co with , there are so interesting things here..."
"Interesting things? Did you buy a new car?"
"What new car? This is more exciting than that, co quickly!"
"..."
A reluctant Mr. Granger was pulled aside by Mr. Hols.
But after experiencing wizard chess, he was quickly attracted by this magical item from the wizarding world.
Confident in his chess skills, he imdiately began a match with Mr. Hols.
The result was predictable.
The seemingly moving pieces wouldn't obey Mr. Granger's commands at all, leaving him flustered and confused.
"Hey, don't send there! Can't you see his bishop?"
"Listen to , send him. Even if he's sacrificed, it doesn't matter."
"How dare you kill my knight!"
"..."
The two grown n played chess on one side, while the two wives sat together quietly drinking tea and chatting.
The sumr holidays had just begun when the Granger family of three had gone abroad for vacation.
After returning, they hadn't gone straight ho but decided to stop by the Hols house first.
On one hand, Mrs. Granger had many travel experiences to share with her good friend Mrs. Hols. On the other hand, Hermione wanted to ask Sherlock about so magic-related matters.
Although she had achieved first place in their year at the end of last term, she was well aware that in so subjects, she was more than a little behind Sherlock.
Both in theory and practice.
Even now, there were still many things she couldn't understand.
Under these circumstances, mother and daughter imdiately decided: go to the Hols house first!
King's Road happened to be on their way ho anyway.
Though Mr. Granger wanted to object, he knew his opposition would be ineffective when his wife and daughter had already reached agreent.
So, he simply accepted the result.
This way, two fathers, two mothers, and two children were perfectly paired off in combinations.
However, Hermione hadn't expected that as soon as she went upstairs, she would witness such a shocking scene.
anwhile, Sherlock, after hearing Hermione's words, continued moving his scalpel thodically.
As if her voice were just an insignificant breeze that couldn't affect him at all.
Seeing Sherlock's deanor, Hermione, who had been sowhat excited about reuniting with her friend after a long separation, imdiately felt her expression fall.
Her mouth turned downward, and the light in her eyes dimd sowhat.
But that lasted only a mont.
Soon, she raised her voice sounding clearly displeased,
"Sherlock, I'm talking to you!"
With that, she slamd a small box onto the table beside her with a dull thud.
She crossed her arms over her chest and stepped forward angrily, her cheeks flushing slightly with indignation.
But this had no effect whatsoever.
Sherlock continued to ignore her completely, not only keeping his eyes fixed on the toad but maintaining his steady hand movents without the slightest pause.
"Sherlock, you..."
After waiting another mont, just as Hermione was about to explode, Sherlock finally put down his scalpel.
He first gently moved his neck, which had beco sowhat stiff from maintaining the sa position for so long, producing audible cracks, then straightened up and spoke unhurriedly:
"Belgium or the Netherlands?"
"What are you talking about?"
Still angry, Hermione reflexively asked back.
Sherlock stretched his back, which had beco stiff from sitting so long, then took a clean white cloth to gently wipe the blood from his fingers.
His movents were elegant and composed. As he wiped, he said:
"Hermione, this journey of yours must have been quite rewarding—from what I can see, you went to Belgium or the Netherlands, didn't you?"
Though phrased as a question, when it ca from Sherlock's mouth, it carried the tone of certainty.
Upon hearing this, Hermione's anger that was about to flare up again instantly subsided.
Having spent a full year with Sherlock, she was already very familiar with his abilities.
But even so, she was still shocked by Sherlock's words.
She looked at Sherlock with an uncertain expression, her eyes flashing with amazent:
"You... how do you know? I haven't said a single word to you about it yet!"
After saying this, rembering Sherlock's past feats, she quickly looked down to examine herself carefully.
Up and down, left and right, front and back, as if trying to see what traces on her body had led Sherlock to make this deduction.
Unfortunately... she couldn't see anything.
By this ti, Sherlock had also finished organizing his equipnt.
He walked toward Hermione with steady steps: "Your skin has darkened—that's the result of prolonged outdoor exposure.
And your dress, shoes, and luggage... they all told this.
I can see you've cleaned them, but without using spells, traces inevitably remain.
First, this mud obviously didn't co from London—that's beyond doubt.
Second, its color is dark, and it contains fine sand particles.
This indicates it's near the estuaries of multiple rivers and the ocean, repeatedly washed and infiltrated by seawater, making the soil extrely high in salt content.
After drying, not only does the color beco this dark, but the sand particles also adhere due to salt crystallization, creating this unique texture.
Combined with your travel dates, only the border region of Belgium and the Netherlands fits these conditions.
Besides that, there's your coat."
He leaned close to Hermione and lowered his head slightly, gently sniffing.
This action made Hermione's face turn slightly red, the blush quickly spreading from her cheeks to her ears.
But soon, her attention was captured by Sherlock's next words.
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