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WHO: Tony, and YOU
TONE: Confused and adventuours
RATING: PG
WHEN: December 1st through 3rd
WHERE: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
WHAT: Tony's woken up 5 years old, in a place he's never been before.
NOTE: Tony is going to be all over the place, so let me know where you've come across him.

Waking up. Tony finds himself in bed with somebody else. Sitting up Tony looks around the room then he stares at the older boy for a second before patting his face.

"Hey? Hey?"

What he doesn't know, is that the boy he's patting is Bruce.

After a while he finds himself away from Bruce and is exploring Hogwarts, looking to see what kind of place this is and what he can get up to.

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"His belongings were sparce and in a chest. He certainly doesn't live here. This isn't his home." Sherlock kept direct eye contact, hardly blinking. "I woke up early to look for Mycroft. I only saw your head before leaving."

"You went through his things? Wow Nancy Drew, don't care much for privacy huh?"

Jumping down from the window, Tony almost stumbles but manages to save himself. Straightening he comes over to Sherlock and circles him scrutinising as he does.

"It's Microsoft, not mycrotch. And you can't find it. There's no computers here. At least. I haven't found them. And I've looked everywhere."

Edited 2012-12-03 14:35 (UTC)

“My what?” Sherlock wrinkled his nose. “Mycroft. He’s my big brother…. What’s a Microsoft?”

Tony raises an eyebrow.

"Mycroft? Really? That's a name? That sounds dumb. Microsoft is what you use to operate muggle computers with. Dad has heaps of them, big ones and small ones all with different operating systems. I even have one myself."

He gives a smug grin, because he has crazy muggle technology and he bets this kid wont have it.

He bets correctly. Sherlock continues to stare at him. This boy speaks strange words.

"Yes, it's a name. It's a family name. What do they call you that's so much better than Mycroft?"

"Uh, Tony. Well Anthony. But only Obi calls me that. Because Tony is a good respectable name. What's your name? Bumchaff?"

Sherlock doesn't see why a truly respectable name like Anthony would be shortned to something so... well, rather common sounding.

"Sherlock."

"Sherlock? Really? Well I guess it's better than being a crotch, I guess."

Tony circles him again then stops in front of him.

"I think I'm going to go build a snow fort. Want to help? You can make the moat."

Tony turns and walks off, as if just expecting to be followed.

"To scale"

Sherlock did follow, albeit slowly and with some mild reluctance. "We've been kidnapped and you want to make a snow fort instead of try and find out who did this?"

He doesn't look over his shoulder, opting to just talk louder as he comes out into one of the once open grassy areas now covered in a foot of snow.

"At least the kidnappers will know where to find us when our parents pay ransom then."

He starts to deliberately shuffle in a very large square and then points to the opposite side from him.

"You start there, and go clockwise. I think four feet will be tall enough Because five means I have to stand on your back."

"No one stands on my back," Sherlock countered, adjusting his gloves. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Well it has to be you. Because my family is more important."

Tony Starts to build up his wall then looks at Sherlock.

"Wait, you mean? Haven't you ever played in the snow before?"

Sherlock shook his head. He couldn't really think of a reason why he'd want to play in snow. It was weather.

"Wow, you kept in a bubble or something till now? Except for Christmas. Playing in snow is the best thing about winter."

Tony shakes his head then shifts a little so Sherlock can see him better and starts to heap up and pat down snow.

"See, like this. Sort of like making snow-bricks or snow-logs."

Sherlock eyes his bare hands with a frown but squats down and pats the snow.

"What's the purpose? Are you going to live in a snow home like an Inuit? You'll die of hypothermia."

"Igloos are actually warm, so there. But no, this is just for some fun. And, once we build it, we can throw snowballs at anyone who comes by to defend out fort."

The fact that Tony's only in a t-shirt, jeans and runners doesn't seem to bother him.

Sherlock eyes him critically. "They're only warm if you're dry. You're not. And if you play in snow, you'll only get more wet and more cold."

Tony shrugs and keeps building.

"That's what Baths, fires and hot chocolate milk is for. But that's later. Fun comes now."

He looks over at him.

"Not building isn't having fun, you know."

Sherlock pats the snow some more before gathering some in his hands and packing it into a square palm shaped ball. He offers it to Tony. There. A brick. He's going to blow into his hands now.

"Wow. You are such a baby."

He takes the small brick tosses it at Sherlock's face without even trying to make it into a snowball.

"I really need to teach you how to play."

Sherlock sputters and shakes the snow from his face, getting a bit of distance between himself and Tony before putting his fists up in a fighting stance. That's what most people who aren't family mean when it's time to 'teach him' something. Well, have a go. He'll black your eye right back.

Cocking his head to the side, Tony raises a big eyebrow and looks confused.

"What are you doing?"

He's never needed to know how to fight before and hasn't really been interested in watching shows with fighting in them. So he really has no idea what's going on right now.

“I’m-“ Sherlock stopped short of explaining that it was self-defense. It was obvious, wasn’t it? “You don’t want to beat me up?”

Tony keeps his head cocked and eyebrow raised.

"Uh, no? I was trying to start a snow ball fight. Why would I beat you up?"

Tony might be all about an offensive defence, when his charms stop working. He's never been someone to beat up another kid because he doesn't know how to play in the snow properly.

Sherlock lowers his hands. "Snowball fight? Snow makes for a very ineffective weapon. It disintegrates on impact with little to no pain."