Sherlock was your nickname. You never had any friends, but you could read someone like a book. That’s why people called you Sherlock. Even if you hated it. But there was one particular person you couldn’t read, and that was George Weasley.

You were sitting down on the couch in the Gryffindor common room, reading a book until a voice called from behind you.

“Sherlock is it? Heard about you. Quiet a lot of people talk about you,”

You turned your head around and looked behind you, and who you saw was none other than George Weasley himself.