Loony & The Lion – A SH/JW Case

Potter!Lock – Harry Potter/ BBC Sherlock Xover. SH/JW - Story set moments after the Reichenbach Fall and the events that follow...

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters, as much as I would like to, and would not be sitting here writing fanfiction should I own these multi-million pound franchises.

Chapter 1:

He was still alive. That was a surprise.

Sherlock had originally expected his fall to send him under for at least half an hour; had the truck been there to cushion his fall.
He had realised the truck was driving away seconds after he succumbed to gravity but had nothing that he could do to stop it, all he could do was pray for a miracle. Of course he had many backup plans formulating in his mind, but it was too late and his previous backup plan had involved Mori— His thought trail ended, time seemed to slow down and, he felt as if he was stuck in an all-consuming vortex between time and reality for what seemed like forever before erratically dropping out of the euphoria onto the all too real, rock-hard ground below.

The pain of colliding with the London pavement was near-blinding, but through his calculations, he had no idea why he was still alive. The carefully placed blood bags he and Molly had hidden just behind his hairline had burst open with the force of impact, and he could feel the blood smeared across his face and in his hair, dripping slowly down his neck onto the pavement below. Staring up to the heavens waiting for the mayhem to begin, he decided that although the stunt had gone wrong, the façade would still work if he went along with it as planned. Hopefully the all too realistic fall would be enough to fool those not in on the façade; especially John.
He had to remember Molly telling him to relax, to keep his breathing slow and his eyes open no matter what. Despite the pain he was managing well, and being slumped on his side facing the bloodsplatted walls of St. Barts was making it easier.

The homeless network – some of the only few he can trust to do this – crowd forwards on cue, disguised as hospital visitors and professionals, a few as nurses and doctors, and a couple as paramedics waiting in the wings to rush forwards a few moments later. Keeping up the façade despite the pain he, sure enough, is proven correct when a couple of passing women (both office workers, mid-twenties and single, one looking for a promotion, one the boss of the other, both on the way to lunch) join the homeless network crowding around him.

There is a prick in the skin on his right hand, rushed and hidden, judging by the slight shake of the needle hidden in one of the homeless network's hands. Through the pain, he can't feel it working, although he knows that any second he will – There. His hand is going numb, the agony of the rest of his body (four pulled muscles, two cracked ribs – one on either side, a dislocated ankle and left shoulder, a broken wrist and concussion) slowly subsiding thanks to the drugs. Sounds begin to slur, as the world starts to spin - the whole world slows down and speeds up all at once. He shoves the unwelcome feeling down, pushes everything away and prays his heartbeat slows enough in time. If anyone suspects, if John suspected…He couldn't bear thinking about.

He just lies there, staring, staring into nothing, as he waits for John to arrive; Limping most likely, due to the emotional stress causing his limp to re-emerge. Even with the drugs twisting at his mind Sherlock knows John is late. The stunt was carefully calculated, John should be here already. He had factored in the moments of shock, the time allowed for stumbling, being knocked down by the cyclist (Kevin, The youngest in the network but trustworthy enough, although he didn't know the whole plan) and getting back up again. He had worked it all out thirteen times, John should be here. If he's not here then, where is he? Did john get knocked down too hard? No, He told Kevin not to be too rough, that he only needed a few extra seconds to get into place. If it wasn't Kevin, No, The sniper. It could have been the sniper. What if Moriarty never intended to let them live anyway? He refuses to consider that fact that simply, John had left him. He knows better than that. John wouldn't have done that – Would he? He resists the urge to sit up and look around, to check if the façade worked; that John was alive. But he couldn't give himself away.
The game was still on.