Harry Potter meets Sherlock Holmes three times in his life.
The first time he met him, he forgot.
The second time he met him, he didn't.
The third time he met him, he wished he could.
He was ten years old, due for his last year of primary school in the September.
More to the point, he was hungry.
He'd done something wrong last night. He wasn't too sure what it was to be honest, but Aunt Petunia said it was bad and bad meant locked in the cupboard with no dinner.
Or breakfast, it seemed.
Harry wasn't exactly used to going 14 hours with no food. That didn't mean he didn't know what to expect either.
He was dragged out of his cupboard at half nine in the morning, told to make himself presentable and that they were going shopping at ten. Aunt Petunia needed someone to help carry the bags and both Uncle Vernon and Dudley were 'busy'. Harry would rather have stayed behind and eaten breakfast but ... well, he thought philosophically, at least he was out of the cupboard.
They'd been in Sainsbury's for approximately 15 minutes when Harry lost Aunt Petunia. He simply turned around after picking up some baked beans and she was gone... To keep himself from worried tears –Aunt Petunia hated crying- Harry muttered some words he'd heard some of the older boys say. He wasn't too sure what they meant, but he knew you had to use them when something bad happened and that those big boys didn't cry when they used them. He found the words very satisfying when they left his mouth, he understood why the bigger boys said them now. He liked them so much he said them again. He turned sharply when he heard the dry laughter.
There was a boy standing behind him, arms folded, leaning back on the shelves, watching him... It was creepy. He didn't look like he was going to move anytime soon either, even after being caught staring. He just stared straight back with creepy, icy eyes. Harry felt uncomfortable. He felt assessed...
So he did the only thing he could think of. Harry Potter stared back.
The boy was about seventeen, eighteen maybe. Tall, very tall. Harry had to crane his neck to take in his face which was... different... Aristocratic. The highest cheekbones he'd ever seen, Antarctic cold eyes and the haughtiest expression ever seen off the face of a royal.
The boy was still staring intently at Harry... just the merest hint of an amused smirk on his face.
"Rather a choice selction of words for an eight year old," - at this Harry glared pointedly- the boy laughed again, dry and humourless, "my apologies, nine or ten then. Wouldn't your mother be apalled?" At this the boy's face twisted into a smirk, cynical and ironic. Harry just blinked and frowned again, scowling at the older boy, waiting for him to figure out his mistake. The boy cocked his head, and, eyebrows pulled down, his eyes bagan to flicker up, down, all around Harry. Harry was distinctly aware of a sudden and intense feeling of scrutiny. With this distinct awareness came a distinct feeling of discomfort and an even more distinct feeling of vulnerability...
Something in the boy's expression changed. For a split second his frown of concentration transformed, his lips twisted into a grimace, he inhaled sharply and looked anywhere but at Harry. And, as suddenly as it was there, the expression was gone.
The boy coughed, looking slightly uncomfortable now, "Yes, well, You're... guardian," The boy's face twisted again, had Harry known the words, he'd probably have described it as disdainful, "went that way I think, towards the fruits and vegetables" He pointed to the left of where they were standing.
Harry nodded and started to scurry away from the strange boy with the startling eyes when the the voice called out after him.
"Harry, wait a moment please," the look on Harry's face must have given away his blatant shock and mild terror at the use of his name. The boy coughed again. "It's written on the inside of your collar..." He fingered his own collar in demonstration, making sure that no confusion lingered. The tall boy looked away again, at the floor this time."Anyway, here. You'll want these. The sugar and carbohydrates will be good for you. They're suprisingly effective at combatting malnutrition, in the short term anyway," The boy threw several chocolate bars at Harry who, for his part, looked and acted remarkably like a deer caught in the headlights. How did he know? The boy cocked his head again, narrowed his eyes and spoke again, so softly, Harry almost didn't hear it "And a cold flannel applied directly after the trauma will help with the bruises if you can't get to ice. It'll hurt less. Also, I myself am a firm believer in the 'Duck and Weave Principle". It's what I always did." The tall boy's expression suddenly grew less soft, resembling the granite it did when he first began talking. He stared for one second more, seemingly coming to a decision, and abruptly turned around and stalked off down the aisle.
He was halfway to the exit when Harry gathered enough presence of mind to call out after him.
"Who are you?" It wasn't what he'd wanted to say at all, but it's all that had come out.
The boy stopped, turned and stared at Harry. Evaluating again...
"Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes"
When Harry found his aunt at the fruit and vegetables section he got a harsh word, a clip about the ear and the promise of the cupboard.
It wasn't that bad that time. The chocolate bars made it so much easier to deal with. He wished he could have thanked that skinny, strange boy properly. Told him how much the kindness had meant to him, even if the older boy was a total creeper. He wanted to ask the boy just how he knew so much...
Harry just sighed, curled up in his cupboard with his new chocolate bars and resigned himself to the fact that he'd probably never know. He closed his eyes... Thinking of all the things he'd ask the boy with the Ice-storm eyes if he ever saw him again...
18 months later, what with magic and exams and a Dark Lord, Harry had all but forgotten that the Ice-Storm eyes existed.
Opinions? Good? Bad? Middlin? Abso-bloody-lutely shocking?
Also, seriously hoping someone got the Doctor Who reference :)