Everyone knew that Sherlock wasn't great at conversation.
Or rather, since he told the truth in most situations, he didn't pay attention to atmosphere or consider the listener's feelings.
So, when Ron asked for his opinion of the Burrow, Sherlock first examined the building with a scrutinizing gaze and gave his summary assessnt of "indeed, it's not much."
Then, under his three friends' shocked stares, he said seriously.
"From my observations, this small building lacks overall planning and has cramped spaces, with each room having limited ceiling height.
The top floor rooms are particularly cramped—I can even imagine that when people walk in, their heads might bump the ceiling.
There are five chimneys on the roof, indicating that not every room has a fireplace besides the living room and kitchen.
Also..."
"Ahem..."
No more "also"!
Harry, seeing Ron's face growing greener and greener, as if he'd eaten a bogey-flavored Bertie Bott's bean, quickly coughed twice while tugging at Sherlock's sleeve.
Sherlock looked at Harry uninterestedly.
"Well, that's enough. Let's talk about sothing else."
Seeing Harry's pleading expression, Sherlock chose not to continue.
Harry and Hermione exchanged glances, both sighing in relief.
Harry especially was groaning inwardly.
There was no help for it—this friend of his was good in every way, except for that mouth...
Never mind Ron with his sensitive heart or proud Hermione.
Even soone as tolerant as himself sotis couldn't stand this blunt streak of his.
It always took a long ti of reflection afterward to get over it.
Fortunately, only the four of them had heard this.
Otherwise, if Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had heard, how embarrassing would that have been!
Even if they hadn't heard, it would have been bad if the twins or Percy had.
After this small incident, Ron beca more careful and didn't dare let Sherlock casually comnt again.
His little heart couldn't take it.
When the group filed into the backyard, a dilapidated little stone house ca into view.
The stone walls were covered with moss, with stubborn weeds sprouting from the cracks.
The open door swayed gently in the wind, making creaking sounds as if welcoming the visitors from afar.
Sherlock needed only a glance to determine it was the Weasley family's broomstick shed.
Behind the shed was a large garden overgrown with weeds, which the Weasley family called their herb garden.
Everyone visiting the Burrow for the first ti, including Sherlock, looked around with eyes full of novelty and excitent.
Their gazes constantly moved among the surrounding scenery, particularly Mr. Hols and Mr. Granger, who occasionally let out soft exclamations of wonder.
Harry felt moved—this was what a garden should look like, though the Dursleys certainly wouldn't approve.
After all, it was overgrown with weeds that needed cutting.
But tree roots twisted around the wall bases, and various plants he'd never seen before sprawled from every flower bed.
Not to ntion the erald vegetable patches, smooth stone well curbs, tall apple trees, and purple-red climbing vines.
Nor the cicadas singing in the leaves, fat wasps lying on peony flowers, or swift owls suddenly darting from the grass toward the clouds.
Just the area around the green pond alone held infinite interest.
Above the pond stretched a vista of lotus leaves. The leaves rose high above the water like the skirts of graceful dancers. Among the layers of leaves, white flowers were scattered here and there.
So blood gracefully, others shyly budded, like scattered pearls, stars in the blue sky.
Looking closely, one could see many frogs hopping about.
Harry's eyes widened like copper bells, shooting out lightning-sharp alertness.
He curiously gazed at every corner, as if wanting to imprint everything in his mory.
Hermione frowned slightly, constantly comparing the differences between wizarding and Muggle households as she observed.
Walking to the center of the garden, Mr. Weasley suddenly stopped.
Under everyone's puzzled gazes, he cleared his throat and began explaining to Mr. Hols and Mr. Granger.
"In the magical world, there's a wonderful creature called a gno, also known as a garden gno.
If you can see them in a garden, it usually ans wizards live nearby."
"What a coincidence! We have gnos in our garden too," Mr. Hols said, his eyes lighting up.
"Ha ha, I've seen those things you think are gnos," Mr. Weasley was very interested in the Muggle world, and hearing Mr. Hols's words, his lips curved up as he naturally took up the conversation.
"Those little dwarfs with tall pointed hats, so carrying fishing rods, like chubby little Santa Clauses."
As he spoke, he gestured to show what those little figures looked like, his movents exaggerated and vivid, making everyone smile.
"But those are just garden decorations, completely different from the gnos I'm talking about..."
At this point, Mr. Weasley suddenly showed a mysterious smile, turning to one of the twins with anticipation sparkling in his eyes.
"George, go show our guests what our garden gnos look like!"
"I'm not George, I'm Fred—honestly, you claim to be our father, but why can't you tell I'm Fred?"
"Sorry, Fred, dear."
"Ha, just joking—actually, I am George."
Mr. Weasley: (≧≦)
"Stop talking nonsense! When I tell you to go, you go—can't you see the guests are waiting?" Mrs. Weasley, seeing her husband's discomfort, put her hands on her hips and imdiately scolded with a stern face.
Though everyone present was taller than Mrs. Weasley, at this mont she was full of authority.
"Alright, alright... really troubleso parents..." George dared to tease his father, but now only muttered once before jumping into the garden like an agile little monkey, before Mrs. Weasley could raise her hand.
He crouched low, carefully weaving through the flower bushes, his eyes alertly scanning the surroundings.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, George suddenly bent down and buried his head in the peony bushes.
With violent struggling sounds, the peonies in the garden shook wildly.
After a mont, George straightened up under everyone's gaze.
Facing the crowd, he stretched out his arms and held up his right hand high, saying with a straight face.
"Look, this is a gno."
"Let go! Let go!" The creature George held tightly in his hand let out sharp, piercing screams, like a rusty iron door being pushed open, the harsh sound echoing continuously in the air.
For Sherlock, Harry, and Hermione, though they'd never seen a gno in person, they'd studied them in textbooks.
So, they could remain relatively calm, though their eyes couldn't hide their curiosity.
Mr. Hols and Mr. Granger were completely different.
Both stared wide-eyed, gazing directly at the gno, their expressions completely frozen.
They were utterly stunned by this bizarre creature they'd never seen before.
This thing was worlds apart from the jolly, chubby Santa Clauses they'd imagined!
It was small and compact, appearing to be about a foot tall, with the most striking feature being a head strangely large for its body.
The head swayed left and right with its struggling, as if it might separate from the body at any mont.
Then there were those bony, solid feet, looking exactly like a potato with legs—bizarre yet comical.
As Mr. Weasley had said, this was a genuine magical world gno, completely different from what they'd previously imagined.
Though George held it up, the gno didn't give up struggling.
It kicked with its rough little feet, continuously screaming for George to let it go.
After confirming everyone had clearly seen the gno's appearance, George grabbed the gno's ankle and skillfully held it upside down.
Now the gno's body dangled in the air, head down, limbs thrashing wildly, looking even more pathetic.
"We usually do this—just spin them until they're dizzy," Mr. Weasley once again served as narrator, his voice gentle and patient, as if describing the most ordinary thing.
Following Mr. Weasley's words, George understood and imdiately began his demonstration.
He held the gno high with one hand and began swinging his arm in large circles through the air like a lasso.
The gno's body spun rapidly under the centrifugal force, creating whooshing wind sounds.
Its screams beca even shriller, as if about to be torn apart by this powerful force.
Seeing the two guests' astonished expressions, Mr. Weasley's smile grew even brighter.
"Don't worry, this won't hurt them—it just makes them unable to find their gno holes."
At this mont, George released his grip, and with this single-arm rotation, the gno flew straight out twenty feet, landing with a splash in the field behind the hedge.
Soon, the gno he'd thrown stood up and staggered away, disappearing behind the hedge.
This scene left Mr. Hols and Mr. Granger once again gaping in amazent.
For people who'd never encountered magical creatures, the scene was truly impactful.
Not just them—even Harry, despite coming from a Muggle family, looked very surprised.
Only Sherlock and Hermione remained composed.
Through their reading, they already understood this type of creature.
"Pathetic," Ron curled his lip. "I bet I could throw one past that stump."
George ignored his little brother and jumped out of the garden, saying sowhat dissatisfied, "It'll just co back anyway."
"Can't help it—they like it here because Dad's too lenient with them," Fred said, shrugging at George's words.
Mr. Weasley asked back, "Don't you think they're interesting?"
╮（╯＿╰）╭
The twins simultaneously made helpless shrugging gestures.
Clearly, they didn't think so.
But Mr. Hols and Mr. Granger nodded.
"Well said."
"Absolutely fascinating!"
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