Part 3

by N.B.D. (Glitterbug880012 at aol.com)

"No, not that I can remember... ever," Holmes said in reply.

Lestrade kept walking as she continued to talk. "Itís -- itís a school. Very selective in their choices. Iím one of their students, and, letís just say my family made him sorta angry."

"Lestrade, you have reached new heights of being intelligent," he said sarcastically as she started towards the door. He waved the book. "Is this of any importance?"

Her eyes widened and she snatched the book from him, holding to her chest, protectively. "Yes, a lot. Iím out of here, anyways. Hopefully, Iíll be alive next time I see you."

"Iím coming with you." He grabbed her arm, and she turned slowly. "Youíve piqued my curiosity."

"You have no idea what youíre getting yourself into," she said, her voice venomous. Holmes nonchalantly stood in the doorway. She aimed her ionizer at his head and spoke in a perfect monotone. "Get out of my way, stay out of my business, or die."

"I wonít choose any. Iím coming if you like it or not."

She groaned. "'Omae o korosu,' thatís all I can say, Holmes."

"Oh, you speak Japanese now?"

"Have, and others. I gotta go. I spent too much time here, anyway."

"Where are we going?"

"Youíll find out when we get there. First, Iím going into town for supplies."

They walked the entire way, until they reached a street that branched into two directions. In the center was an old, closed-down shop.

Lestrade continued to walk, suddenly self-conscious. She was so caught up in what she was doing, she forgot Holmes. It wasnít until she was opening the door to the pub -- which now seemed to be open and bursting with activity, the gilded sign over head gleaming -- that she remembered.

"Lestrade, how on Earth was that done?" He strode over to her.

She gaped. "What? Didnít you suddenly remember something? Or hit a wall?"

"No. Was I supposed to?"

"Itís just that youíd have to be a wiz-- never mind. Follow me."

They entered a lobby, and Lestrade gave Holmes a warning glance. "Thereís going to be some people in there that donít like me. So just keep walking to the back."

He nodded.

The door opened to a grimy looking pub. Holmes was suddenly aware of the fact that his clothing nearly *fit in*, save for the fact that most of the men and women were in dresses. Everyone stopped and stared at them as they proceeded to the back.

"Lestrade!" A stout looking woman embraced Lestrade. "My poor precious child. What ever Ďappened to you?"

"Uh, life, Tilly." Lestrade smiled.

"What can I get for you? A butterbeer?" She started to address Holmes. "ĎEaven knows she was terribly fond oí them as a child. Why, Ďad to Ďelpíer to the stools to be able to order, I did...."

"No butterbeers today. Could you help me with the back? I sort of -- well-" She looked down, blushing.

"Broke yours? I know, child. Made Daily Prophet five minutes later. Itíd be a pleasure to Ďelp you." She ushered them to the back of pub, and into the back. She took out what seemed to Holmes a slender wooden rod, and tapped some various bricks.

Suddenly, they folded back onto themselves and made an archway. A street, bustling with activity, appeared.

"Lestrade," Holmes said, annoyed. "Thereís a spell shop and a wand shop, as well as..." He looked up in the air at two people. "...Flying brooms. Mind explaining?"

She laughed nervously. "Hehe, I forgot to tell you Iím a witch, didnít I? Oops, slipped my mind, I guess. Anyway, moving on."

He let out a sigh of exasperation as he followed her. "Prosthetic eyeballs, then a half-dead Lestrade on Baker Street... whatís next?!?"

On to Part 4!

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