Because I obviously haven't got enough WIP's (awkward laugh), I am beginning another major story. This is/was a birthday present to a friend: I wanted to write her a story in which all of her favourite characters from her favourite fandoms meet. This (hopefully), will take around 16 chapters, (for her 16th birthday). Enjoy this first one! :) (More A/N at the end.)
An Infinitely Illuminating High-functioning Magical Big Bang Genie Wish of a Story which Appreciates Autobiographical Musicals.
Chapter 1: I am not a wizard; I am a high-functioning Warlock. Do your research.
"I can't believe you managed to talk me into this," said Sherlock, looking away from the subject of his indignation out of the window of the plane, watching the ground slowly slip away as his ears began to pop.
John simply raised his eyebrows.
"You agreed it was necessary, and you know as well as I do I have never talked you into anything."
Still turned away, Sherlock quirked the side of his lip up, but masked it as he looked back at him.
"I still think it would have been better had my trip been a little less publicised, you website is awash with idiots normally, but the last week has invited American idiots. I have enough trouble with the ones in my own country, even my own local police department."
John rolled his eye customarily and breathed in slowly. He had had some variation of this conversation every day since he had blogged about Sherlock going to America to do research about a case at VidCon.
They needed to entice the criminal, who Sherlock had deduced was a follower and fan of him and his cases, to come and find them, and that required for them to publically attend the event which centred the investigation in London on the control of teenage subconscious. They, well, Sherlock, suspected the link between the trend of teenage girls suddenly turning to crime was due to them all having one thing in common; they watch 'vlogs' on Youtube.
A few hours of research culminating in the convenient nearness of the time of a major convention made Sherlock think that there was a higher purpose to these seemingly random and overall purposeless crimes; they needed to go themselves in order to find the perpetrator.
John needed to get out of London for a little while as well though, and Sherlock could actually sympathise for once; they had had an odd couple of months due to a case that he couldn't quite bring himself to remember the details of, and both of them had been having strange dreams as a direct result. Sherlock knew he should be alarmed at the lack of clarity at his perfect memory, but every time he attempted to peruse it in his mind palace, something had pushed him to open a different door of recollection, and before he knew it something irritating like the need to eat would pull him into alert consciousness and he would forget again.
John removed his seatbelt when the light indicated and reached up to get his bag and laptop to continue a write up blog about a case they completed a few weeks before that he hadn't found time to write for.
"Are you sure it's safe to walk up and down?" A slightly shaky male voice issued from directly behind John, making him jump and hit his head on the luggage shelf he was reaching up to. Sherlock rolled his eyes and glanced at the tall, red-haired man who had spoken.
He was a young man, early twenties, but his hands and fingers were calloused as if he was an experienced tradesman, but there were no visible traces of a constant wear on any particular material, so perhaps sportsman in his spare time. He must work outdoors then also, or used to, judging by the oddly disproportionately soft middle in comparison to his general active-looking physique: spent time back with his mother then and her cooking, then got tired of it after the second time of living with her so was going on holiday, a travelling, extended one judging by the faint sunburn on the end of his nose, so has money, but came into it recently, still has relatively cheap clothes, bought by a woman...the one to which he had been speaking considering the subconscious matching of colour of her clothes. Must be his girlfriend then, but they have known each other a long time to have that connection, and the people a few seats forward from whence they had come, judging by the similarly ginger hair of the girl and the closeness of her to the boy, must be travelling with them.
Sherlock sighed with the boredom of normalcy and looked away, but something in the movement of the man in the next second made him stop. He watched ever more intently as he apologised to John for startling him, turning fully toward the aisle which he was observing from.
The turn in his waist was stilted; he had a scar, the result of a serious wound, on his left forearm. It was relatively old, hence had become behaviour in his way of manoeuvring himself, but not so old it wasn't occasionally forgotten, as a shadow of a wince passed across his face fleetingly when he turned back to his bushy haired fiancé, (they must be keeping it a secret, probably due to the mother; there was a mark where she had worn a ring on her engagement finger and had slept on her hand, and a chain which he was certain had the ring on it was hanging underneath her shirt). His long sleeves moved slightly to reveal a hint of the end of what Sherlock would be prepared to bet Baker Street on was a large burn, and he saw when she turned her top rode up and he caught a glimpse of an almost identical style of burn on her hipbone. They immediately became far more interesting.
The curly-haired caught his eye and pulled down her top hastily. He frowned, surprised at her shrewdness; he knew she was not suspecting him of admiring her, as she made no attempt at adjusting anything else, and held his gaze for a lot longer then it took to say non-verbally to stop looking, (of all social cues he was oblivious to, that was one that had been important and frequently used enough to learn). Her expression was confusing, but he gathered after a few seconds that there was a panic and recognition mixed with...sympathy? No, that can't be right.
Hermione beheld Sherlock Holmes' slightly suspicious looking face for far longer than she knew she should, before coming into herself and deliberately and self consciously averting her eyes and turning her face away. She continued to usher Ron down the aisle, apologising for him when he inevitably stumbled and bumped into people going into their hand luggage clumsily. Once they had reached the space outside the toilet which was mercifully empty, she pulled him aside.
"Did you see who-"
"Of course I did, I talked right to Dr. Watson didn't I? I couldn't believe it, of all the bloody metal birds you say there are they end up a few rows away from us on the only one any of us but you has ever been on!"
She laughed incredulously with him, marvelling at the slightness of the probability. She moved round him a little, craning to look over his shoulder down the rows. She could see a mop of black hair protruding from the back of the seat.
"I shouldn't have looked at him," she said quietly, the smile fading, "What if I didn't cast a powerful enough charm and Oblivinate can be overcome, or-?"
"Come on Hermione, it's you! Of course you did. He didn't recognise us, he was just a bit weirded out and confused by our mystery and my impossible handsomeness, like he was when we met him the first time." He smiled down at her, a hand finding hers comfortingly.
A particularly large man approached them, evidently aiming for the facilities, and Ron darted into the men's before they became a more permanent residence for him.
She made her way back to Harry and Ginny, deliberately avoiding the slightly burning eye contact of her detective once-acquaintance as she sat on the window seat of their row. She leant in, but saw a conveyance of the improbable encounter was unnecessary; they both wore the same look of unsettlement and confusion that she had.
Ginny spoke first, biting her lip slightly.
"I just kind of feel sorry for him; I don't want him to have to lose all of that again, especially after what he did for us."
"I know, we never would have-"
Hermione widened her eyes significantly at Harry, who with a glance over his shoulder lowered his voice considerably.
"Our department would never would have tracked down Lestrange without him, he saved so many people...I know you had to make him forget, it is just..."
"Too soon. Yeah."
They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the sounds of an argument between a brother and a sister about who got the last pringle in the tube in the row in front.
"He was still really annoying though." Ginny said matter-of-factly, and her companions both made noises of agreement and they all laughed a little.
"Insensitive."
"Arrogant."
"Ginger?" Ron had returned and took his seat in between Ginny and Hermione, laughing with them and messing up his sister's hair and dodging her instinctive childish retaliation.
"Right, after we get there, and go to this thing-" Ron said after a few moments.
"VidCon," Hermione said tiredly.
"Yeah, that, and Hermione has met her Muggle pen-pal who was on the top lap thing when we went to Hermione's house–"
"Lizzie Bennet, come on Ron."
"Yeah, her, then I thought we could visit this great Wizard museum under that big theme park thing. Percy wrote to me about it while we were still in Paris, apparently the Warlock Walter Disney managed to find like fifty-two loopholes in the Statute of Secrecy in order to build that as a cover."
"You aren't seriously telling me that Walt Disney was a wizard," Harry said incredulously, looking between the three others who all looked varying degrees of amused, "How the hell have I not found this out?"
"Not just a wizard, one of the international Warlocks. America is the centre for the United Magical Being Agreement Conferences, he was chair for a few years, specifically in charge of the restrictions and entertainments for children and general wizarding tourism linked with monitoring advances in technological muggle entertainment," Hermione recited, top speed class style, and they all suppressed grins at this; some things never change.
"Well can we agree whatever we do we avoid drama. This is supposed to be the traditional young wizard tour of both worlds, and that is what it shall be. Agreed?"
They all thought for a second.
"I can't keep that promise."
"Statistically we are already well into black, but probability isn't our friend either."
"Drama follows me mate."
"I tried," Ron sighed melodramatically. Within minutes of silence he was snoring, all the worry about the 'bloody big muggle metal bird thing' apparently overcome.
What did you think?
I will be posting each chapter separately as there is going to be a focus of two fandoms, (so I can accurately list it as the right crossover), in each chapter. If you like this one, follow me as an author or leave a review, and I will personally PM you when I post a new one.
Hopefully there will be something for everyone. If you don't get all the references in the title, here are the fandoms that will be covered over the course of the story:
- Perks of Being a Wallflower
- The Lizzie Bennet Diaries
- Sherlock
- Harry Potter
- The Fault in Our Stars
- The Big Bang Theory
- Will Grayson, Will Grayson
Hope you read on! (If you haven't recognised/watched/read any of these, you are missing out.)