Author's Note: I didn't want to include this on my series of Potterlock oneshots because the oneshots are about their time at Hogwarts and this story is almost a year after Hogwarts, so… If all goes well this will be a multi-chapter fic. I'm working on it. Kinda. I have ideas. Long author's note, sorry! I own nothing!
"Why is this flat you found perfect again?" John asked Sherlock as he packed up the dishes in the cabinet.
"The landlady is a witch." Sherlock said, sitting on the sofa with his hands steepled under his chin and his eyes closed, his typical pose. He hadn't offered to help with the packing at all.
John finished wrapping the last mug in bubble wrap and placed it in the cardboard box. He turned to look at Sherlock, "That's it? That's the only reason I'm packing up my life and moving to Baker Street?"
Sherlock opened his eyes and glanced at John. "You're hardly packing up your life, you've barely lived in this dingy place two years and all you possess are books and dishes. Anyway, the landlady is giving us a special rate because I ensured her husband's execution a few months back. She was quite grateful."
"Grateful her husband was executed?" John asked, bewildered.
"Yes." Sherlock said laconically.
John decided not to ask. "Well, I guess that's good; cheaper is always better. Is it a nice flat?"
"We're going to see it this afternoon, John."
"Well, if it's infested with cockroaches, or—or it has faulty wiring I'd rather not waste the trip, so let me know now if it's gross or something."
"Would I consider renting a defective flat?" Sherlock asked, an eyebrow raised.
John chuckled, "No, I guess not."
The end of their last year at Hogwarts was nearly eight months ago. John was simultaneously stressed to the breaking point and having the time of his life in his Muggle classes at St. Bart's Hospital, and Sherlock had spent the last several months attempting to be accepted as a consultant in the Auror department of the Ministry. Greg Lestrade was working as an intern in the Auror office and he visited them often to complain about the drudgery of the job.
Sherlock was getting a few cases from a website John had helped him set up that Sherlock called The Science of Deduction (Sherlock's mind had nearly exploded upon being introduced to the internet), but these cases were the crimes of Muggles, and Sherlock wanted to solve cases with a bit more intrigue.
For the last couple of weeks, Sherlock had been trying to convince John to get a flat share. He had taken it upon himself to find a flat that would be perfect for the both of them, and John had let him, because he'd never seen Sherlock so enthusiastic over something that wasn't Potions or his future career as a consulting Auror.
Now that Sherlock had found them a flat, John was more than ready to pack up and leave his dreary apartment.
John summoned the packing tape with a muttered "Accio" and taped closed the box in front of him.
"Alright, That was the last box. Thanks for all the help, Sherlock." John said sarcastically.
"Finally." Sherlock said, leaping off of the sofa. "Let's go."
"What's the address?"
"221b Baker Street." Sherlock said.
"Right."
As one, they turned on the spot, apparating to just a few feet from the front door of the flat.
"Nice area." John remarked, looking around.
Sherlock hummed in agreement. "Not far from both the Ministry of Magic and Bart's hospital."
When they rang the doorbell, it was promptly answered by an older woman in lavender robes.
"Sherlock! How nice to see you again!" The woman said, beaming.
Sherlock smiled tightly, "Mrs. Hudson, this is my friend, John." He said, gesturing to John. "John, Mrs. Hudson."
John smiled, stepping forward to shake Mrs. Hudson's hand.
"Oh, lovely. You two will be renting together?"
"Yes." Sherlock said.
"Wonderful." Mrs. Hudson's smile got impossibly wider, "How long have the two of you been together?"
John's smile faded, "Oh, we're not—I mean, it's not like that. We're not together. Just friends."
Looking a trifle disappointed, Mrs. Hudson let them in the flat, leading them up a set of stairs to the living area.
Two weeks later they had moved in and John already viewed 221b as home. Sherlock seemed to like the flat as well. He spent most of his time in the kitchen, which he had turned into a Potions laboratory. John didn't mind as long as Sherlock cleared up afterward and he told Sherlock if any Potion of ill or embarrassing effect was slipped into John's food, John would terminate the experiments.
All in all, sharing a flat with Sherlock wasn't all that difficult. John already knew Sherlock's eccentricities so well from seven years of friendship at Hogwarts that nothing could surprise him anymore.
Mrs. Hudson had warmed to the two of them quickly. She checked on them daily, bringing tea and a wide smile.
"Hello boys! I made muffins, I thought you might enjoy them." Mrs. Hudson said, bustling upstairs to their flat levitating a tray of tea and the aforementioned muffins in front of her.
John was perusing the Daily Prophet in an effort to avoid the studying he had to do for class and Sherlock was busy creating something smelly in his cauldron when their landlady set the tray down on the table with a flick of her wand.
"Thanks, Mrs. Hudson." John said, looking up from the paper with a smile.
"Oh, it's no problem at all, dear." Mrs. Hudson was watching Sherlock add ingredients to his cauldron with some concern.
John got up and helped himself to a muffin, looking around the flat as he tore off a piece. The main living area of the flat was filled with clutter: many cauldrons, numberless books on Muggle topics as well as magical topics, quills and inkwells on every surface, and a human skull that Sherlock had never explained the significance of satisfactorily.
It gave John ineffable satisfaction to be able to call someplace his own. He had no way of knowing then that he and Sherlock would call Baker Street Home for many years to come.
