Author's Note

I do not own Sherlock or Harry Potter by any means (for now).

Chapter 1. Introductions

Sherlock POV

Swanford, a small English town that is a charming place for that of tourists but a rather dulling and ordinary place for that of the natives. It was a small town barely to be called a town, a place where it was rarely even marked on maps. Needless to say, the sole reason for its existence was that of tourists. It was also a good place though to see many without questioning or bothering, and it was the place where I had spent countless summers with my dear friend, John Watson.

I entered the small cafe, mainly as to get away from the sweltering heat. Especially during this time of year was it exceptionally hot. It was the time of year where everyone in the sane mind was busy bustling inside, and even the dogs weren't stupid enough to be running in the heat, rather resting under the cool shade of a tree or inside. Most people did dislike this time of year but it had become my favourite as it was the time I could start working on my cases.

Together John and I sat in a small booth, the cafe as usual decorated overly bright and cheery. The cafe itself was quite the hole in the wall, hardly a place you would notice unless you had been before. Everything in here was compact and miniaturised, making one feel like a giant in it and fitting the unique nature of the cafe itself. Even the name of the cafe fit it, calling it the Mouse House. I stared at the walls, which were decorated not unlike that of a kid's cartoon, with bright yellows and reds for the walls. You could hardly see it though as the walls were covered to the brim with overly cheesy and pun-filled signs only seemingly existing in coffee shops. The tantalising smell of iced coffee and freshly baked croissants and other goods wafted through the air. People of all walks of life meandered through the small cafe, bustling through in and out, weaving their own net of chaos. Most people in here, in fact, were tourists, looking to buy a cheap iced coffee or some tacky memorabilia to hang on their fridge and forget about later.

It was here though that we had spent most of our summers because it was the perfect place for me to sharpen my mind in a game I had created called Deductions. Deductions wasn't really a game most would like playing, but it amused both John and me greatly. It basically went like this, John picked any person in the cafe and I looked at them for about a minute before giving him all the details I could about the person. It was an excellent game that kept my mind both occupied and sharp and amazed John's for whatever reason.

"Shall we begin then?" I asked, already beginning to get bored.

"The lady behind you on your right shoulder." He said. I only needed to stare at her for thirty seconds before knowing every inch of her, reading her like one could read a map, my eyes searching for clues and trademarks.

She was a woman in her mid-sixties if I had to guess perhaps sixty-five. She gave the appearance though of being much older telling from the amount of care she took of her skin and other hygiene, suggesting she did not have a life of happiness or luxury. She was retired and the hobby of gardening, telling from the slight callouses on her hands and the dirt underneath her nails that you could never easily wash out. She also had a straight tan line across her back, telling she had been again kneeling a lot, and perhaps stiff joints. She was unmarried, her husband had passed away telling from where she kept her wedding ring, not around her finger but on a chain as a necklace suggesting sentiment as if they had been divorced she would have gotten rid of the ring. Telling from the state of the ring he had been dead for at least five years, noticing how it was still shining and how much care was in it, and the fact that there was little tarnish or rub on the ring.

She had entered the cafe alone but she seemed to be waiting for someone as she kept every few seconds checking her phone and then the entrance of the door. It wasn't likely that she was waiting for a close relative or friend, by then she would have at least called or texted that person to ask, this person was someone new entirely. I then began to dissect her clothing, she was dress nice enough, certainly too nice for average casual daywear, perhaps a date. Not any date though a first one telling that she had pulled out a very nice but old dress, and was wearing heels that she hadn't worn in at least a decade telling from the chafing and discomfort it was causing her. It was probably also the reason she was wearing makeup, which she was not used to as she had put too much on in an attempt to look younger, though it was failing. She was waiting for perhaps a blind date who would never come.

All of this then I told John and when I was finished his mouth was completely agape. "You made it seem easy," John said, still baffled.

"Because it was easy," I said, rolling my eyes. How could he be blind to so many things?

John grumbled in irritation. "Fine, what about her then?" He asked. motioning to the table across from us.

She was fairly young, if I had to guess she would be around my age, thirteen, maybe even fourteen. I first started at her shoes, they weren't new at all telling from the way they fit her feet and how they had been worn down at the soles, but the shoes were well-cared for telling from the various small stitches and repairs that had been done over the ages. Her shoes overall were evenly smoothed down on the bottom, suggesting she walked mainly in even places, certainly not any rough terrain. She was also quite pale considering how hot and sunny it was outside so I could guess she mainly stayed indoors. She wore a pair of faded jeans and plain white t-shirt, both of which had been bought recently telling from the state of them and the markings of where a tag had once been. Her clothes though weren't flashy at all, she certainly wasn't probably then picky or vain unlike most girls my age. If anything she was trying to draw attention away from her, as if purposely trying to act ordinary. I looked at her hands, she was clearly right-handed telling from the callouses on them, but both were stained with blue ink. Perhaps she was a writer then, or an artist? Her callouses on her hands were oddly positioned, and they suggested neither of those hobbies, but they did suggest she held something pencil-like in shape, or at least in width. I then turned to look up more and was met with bushy brown hair.

"Oh, bloody hell." John said, his mouth agape and the girl fully turned to look at us.

She had bright hazel eyes that stared squarely at us, a sharp hooked nose, and freckles that could only be described as scattered stars across her face. Her hair hadn't changed one bit either, still as wild and as fierce as a lion's mane.

"Hello, Ms. Hermione Granger."

Hermione POV

I scanned the files for what seemed the thousandth time, scowling in frustration. I had memorised every single detail about this hundreds of times yet it still didn't make an ounce of sense to me. How could a muggle get a hold of a wand and kill himself with it? Muggles even if they wanted to couldn't perform magic, much less a spell of that size. Most wizards couldn't even do that spell. Yet there had been no other traces we could trace back to the wand, but the man had been a muggle for sure, so how could he have killed himself?

I sighed, breathing in the sweet aromas that drifted throughout the room; at least here it was quiet enough to focus. Certainly it was quieter than the Burrow, where it was far too large and chaotic for any work of importance to be done. While I loved Harry and all the Weasleys, I needed actual time and silence to think, emphasis on silence. The Burrow as far as I was aware was never a silent place, from the antics of Fred and George to the constant yelling and reprimanding from Mrs. Weasley, not to mention the crazy quidditch practices Harry and all the other Weasley's did outside, the whole place was just brimming with noise. Which would have have been fine, it was a wonderful place, but it was just too busy for me to actually get anything done. For Merlin's sake the Ministry had assigned me this, it was super important I got this done before school started!

Still, I would admit I did miss the chaos that usually followed me and my two best friends. Ever since I had attended Hogwarts I've gotten in the craziest adventures no person of my age should hope or dream of, and now that I wasn't surrounded by magic and all the wonderful adventures, well, to say the least, it was getting some time to get used to. I hadn't spent one whole summer in the muggle world since I was ten, asides from the trips I took on the holidays with my parents I had spent all my summers at the Burrow, or at least most of it. I had just become so accustomed to the wizard world it seemed almost impossible to reconnect with the muggle world, and most time if I did stay home in the summer I would usually just stay in my room. There was no point in trying to act like a muggle teenager.

But even at my own home, I didn't like spending there all that much. The place was too small and too cramped and full of too curious people who I knew even less and less now. It wasn't their faults, they, for the most part, hadn't changed and I knew they still loved me. It was that I was the one who had changed on them. I was the one who had become the wizard, a world that no matter how much they tried they could never really understand and I can't blame them. They do at least try, but it's hard to explain a world that they could never be a part of. It was probably the reason why we still have the state of secrecy; if muggles actually ever found out about magic the results would be disastrous. Besides, a part of me didn't want them to know, I didn't want to worry them. If they knew about Harry or Voldemort and all those adventures, I don't know what they would do. It was actually for the best they didn't know.

I then looked up to hear two voices talking. Two teenagers sat across from me in a small booth, both of them were staring at me. The older of the two was a rather stocky but well built older teenager, I would guess he was about sixteen or seventeen. He had pale blonde hair which was razored short, thick eyebrows, a button-like nose, and set eyes that were stormy grey. His eyes were wide open with shock when I turned to face him, and I knew that wasn't a good sign. The person sitting across from him though was the one who made my heart skip a few beats.

He was my age but he looked a lot older, mainly due to his sheer height. He towered at least a head over me, maybe even more. He had pale skin that was translucent, making him look more vampire than human. His hair was strikingly black against his skin, making it seem even more black than most. It was a mess, though, curly and all over like a whirlwind. He had a long narrow face that was a bit frightening to look at, mainly because it was so sharp and hawk-like. Even his eyebrows seemed to be yet intelligent looking, the most frightening thing though were his eyes. They hadn't changed one bit after all these years. They were still that piercing blue I had seen on the first day we had met, and they were still as calculating and searching as ever."Sorry, I think you've mistaken me for the wrong person." I said, quickly picking up all my books, quills, and papers.

"Sorry, I think you've mistaken me for the wrong person." I said, quickly picking up all my books, quills, and papers.

"Oh, I think I know exactly who you are." He said, his voice as cold as ice. He grabbed my wrist tightly to the point of any struggle that it hurt.

"Sherlock-" John warned, getting up now too, his face looking between both of us.

"I've been waiting a long time to do this." He said, and pulled back to punch me square in the face. I closed my eyes and spoke a hex under my breath, hoping it would work. Thankfully he immediately passed out, dropping the on the floor.

John then came running over. "What the bloody hell did you do to him?"

I looked around the cafe, everyone was staring at us, stunned. John was asking too many questions and now there were too many witnesses. This was going to be terrible for the ministry to clean up but it had just happened so quickly, I didn't think really. I would make an excuse for John later, right now we needed to move him and Sherlock, fast.

"Come on, let's take him to your house. We're already causing a scene." I said, motioning around to the now what seemed hundreds of eyes gawking at us.

John swore under his breath. "Fine, but he bloody better wake up." I smirked, John still hadn't changed a bit. Even now with him being a head taller than both of us he still protected him like an older brother.

"You still live at your old house, right?" John nodded.

"Let's take him there, then." I said, and he agreed

John POV

"How is he?" She asked.

"Well, he looks like he's about to wake up. His eyes at least are moving and his heart rate seems to be steadying. The fall he took though might have given him a concussion, or at least a terrible headache when he wakes up." I said.

"How did you do that?" I asked.

She shrugged. "I know a few things." She said.

"You didn't even lay a finger on him."

"Yes I did," She said, motioning to his left wrist.

"When he grabbed me and was about to punch me I just pressed really hard here for a few seconds and he passed out."

"You made his brain think his blood pressure was rising so it lowered his blood pressure and he passed out. Now, where did you learn to do that?"

Hermione shrugged, "a couple friends."

"You have an interesting choice of friends." I noted.

"As do you." She then smiled, but it was a smiled clouded with sadness.

I took a quick scan of her. Hermione had grown up in a lot of ways since I had seen her, she certainly at least didn't seem to be overly excited or chatty anymore. Though she still seemed irrevocably bright whatever room she walked in. Besides the physical things she had also mentally changed a lot I realised, she seemed for some reason much more saddened and burdened than I expected a thirteen-year-old to be, though I was curious I was polite enough not to ask and she gave me a slight smile for that.

She gently stroked his hand. "So how is he doctor?"

"I already told you, he should be fine when he wakes up-"

"That's not what I meant." She said, firmly staring at me.

I sighed. "He's not well, Hermione. I know it's stupid to think even after all these years you still somehow affected him, but somehow you did. He cared for you a lot, a lot more than anyone realised. You were the first person of his age that he did care about, you realise that, right? I don't even know the details or anything but somehow he almost acts guilty about you, as if he caused the move. You broke him Hermione, and it broke all of us to see Sherlock like this. While we tried to put the pieces together, I don't think they'll ever fit the same."

"He wasn't the only one who was broken that day, and I'm sorry I hurt him." She whispered.

She then handed me a bottle full of a strange white liquid. "This should help with the knockout and Tylenol won't hurt him either once he comes to." she said, getting up quickly.

"Wait, you're not staying to make sure he wakes up?"

"Well, seeing as he nearly punched me in the face, I'm taking the safe route for now. Besides, he's in good hands. I'll be at my house though if you or Sherlock wants to see me. I might drop by later anyways." She said, smirking.

"Oh, and one more thing, John. Tell Sherlock he has his first case." She said, and with that, she left, not even saying goodbye.

"Oh, what have we gotten ourselves into?" I wondered.

Author's Note

And that's the introductory folks! Please review and comment please, it's still in the rough stages so I would like feed-back as to how to make it better and more enjoyable. I like writing Sherlock and John better at this age, certainly Sherlock is much more interesting and dynamic to write. More on their relationship will continue. As for Hermione, well we'll see where the mystery takes them, thank you again and please review!