I own neither the show nor the characters.
Obligatory Sherlock/Harry Potter crossover. Fairly fragmented: I write them as they occur to me, which isn't necessarily in year-order. Feel free to PM me with a prompt if you want to see something in particular :)
I must confess to some manipulation of their ages: I wanted the four boys to be at Hogwarts together, and in reality Mycroft is seven years older than Sherlock, and Greg even older than that, so it wasn't going to happen without author intervention.
Hope you enjoy.
The Sortings
"Patient," the Sorting Hat murmured in his ear, "very patient, and loyal to a fault - you've almost got a bit of Slytherin in you there, that willingness to break the rules. Brave, too, and intelligent enough - not to Ravenclaw's standards, of course, but still... where to put you, hmm?"
He swallowed nervously.
"Hard working, a thirst for justice, and a friend to all... I'd say you've the makings of Head Boy in you, young man. Unafraid of toil indeed... yes, there we go. HUFFLEPUFF!"
And Greg Lestrade joined his cheering housemates at the table of yellow and black.
"Slytherin," he said before the Sorting Hat could get a word in.
It laughed softly in his ear, "Very decisive, aren't you? It's not quite as simple as that, you know. You're patient, you could be a Hufflepuff; smart, too, very smart, Ravenclaw would love you; and you're brave enough in your own way, Gryffindor could learn a thing or two from you. But then you're cunning and ambitious, resourceful, and a born manipulator... I think you might be right after all. SLYTHERIN!"
Mycroft Holmes slid off the stool and strode to the table of green and silver.
"Been in a fight already, have you?" muttered a voice in his ear.
"Some of the older kids had locked another first year in the loo," he retorted, "I did what anyone would've done. Or what anyone should've done, anyway."
The voice laughed, "You've got nerve, oh yes, and chivalry - Helga would have liked you, she always did have a soft spot for the defenders of the weak. But you wouldn't fit there, you'd be bored stiff: you need the blooding pumping in your veins, the adrenaline racing through your system. You're hard working, yes, and quite intelligent - but you don't want to be buried in your books all the time, I can see you're more the practical type."
He waited.
"First impressions really do count," it went on, "courage, nerve, daring, a bit of a temper when provoked... yes, I think you'll do well there. GRYFFINDOR!"
Tie askew and limping slightly, John Watson made for the cheering table of red and gold.
"Not Slytherin," he said before the Sorting Hat could get a word in.
It laughed softly in his ear, "You're very much like your brother - very different from him, too, but still very much alike. Are you sure? You've got the resourcefulness for it."
"I'm sure. Anywhere but there."
"If you insist. You wouldn't fit in Hufflepuff, you haven't the patience or the tolerance; I could put you in Gryffindor, perhaps, you've got the recklessness their sort prize... but no, they don't value learning the way you do. You'd suffer without it, without the books and the knowledge and the unquenchable thirst for something more... You need The Work. A decision, then: you go to RAVENCLAW!"
And Sherlock Holmes barely glanced at his brother as he slid in amongst the ranks of blue and bronze.
