Disclaimer: I don't own either Merlin or Sherlock. If I did, you'd be the first to know. (actually, I lied cuz I don't know you :P)

Warning: Merthur Slash, maybe Johnlock later on.

This is my first cross over. Ever. Deal with it. Also, I know the name Sherringford is way over used but I like it :D

Ch. 1

It was a normal day at 221 B Baker Street. John was sitting at the table, in the small space reserved for him where all of Sherlock's experiments had been shoved to the side, eating breakfast and eyeing the newspaper. Sherlock was by the window, looking out onto the street, hands clasped behind his back.

Then the day strayed from normal, much to John's surprise. He noticed Sherlock stiffen, his eyes trained on the street below. John glanced over, intrigued by the strange emotion that flashed through Sherlock's eyes. It almost looked like worry. But Sherlock didn't have emotions, or at least he liked to think that by always calling himself a "high-functioning Sociopath".

John jumped in surprise when a knock sounded on their flat door, unlike Sherlock who was already halfway across the room, as if he was expecting the visitor. John jumped to his feet suddenly as Sherlock did something completely un-Sherlock-like. He threw open the door, grabbed the blonde-haired man by his collar and slammed him violently against the wall.

"Sherlock!" John chocked out. The man still being held against the wall by Sherlock's body weight was tall, muscular, blonde haired, his jaw set in a hard line as he glared through narrow eyes at Sherlock. Sherlock on the other hand, completely ignored John, his eyes solely on the blonde.

"What happened to him?!" Sherlock suddenly demanded, much to John's confusion and the blonde's slight shock. The blonde seemed to recover, narrowing his eyes at Sherlock once more but not saying a word.

"I'm not playing games Pendragon," Sherlock spit the last word out as a curse. "You're here, he is not. You hate me, and the feelings mutual I assure you, so you wouldn't come here without him, which means he is somehow unavailable right now. That, combined with the complete and utter worry and rage which is so obviously on your face. I know something is up. What. Happened?"

Almost immediately after Sherlock finished his rant, the blonde sagged against the wall and John could now see just what Sherlock had seen in the man earlier. Despair, worry, anger, fear. He looked broken, lost.

"He's been taken," The words from the blonde were so twisted in his emotions that it took John a moment to realize exactly what had been said. Apparently it even took Sherlock a second to because all of a sudden he let go of the blonde and took a quick step back, more strange emotions crossing his face before he schooled his features.

John was still utterly confused. But Sherlock simply announced, "John, get your coat. We're going." John, springing into motion by Sherlock's words, did just that, but not without studying Sherlock, who was staring at nothing, the look on his face far away, and the blonde, who had straightened himself and locked his jaw in a grim line once again. Whatever was going on was serious.

Without another word being said, the blonde led both Sherlock and John down to the street where a sleek non-descript black car was waiting for them. Sherlock and John scouted into the back while the blonde sat in the passenger seat which was strangely facing toward the backseat instead of the windshield. A customized car then. Whoever the blonde was, he had money.

"So, um. What exactly is this about?" John decided to break the tense silence once they were underway to who know's where.

"My Brother," Sherlock answered shortly. The blonde and he were seemingly having a glaring contest.

"Mycroft?" John asked, confused. Mycroft could definitely take care of himself.

"No, My younger brother," Sherlock answered, just as seriously. What?

"You have another brother?" John reeled. Another one. Oh god. If Mycroft and his schemes weren't worse enough.

The blonde finally broke his gaze from Sherlock, glancing sharply at John before turning his accusing glare back to Sherlock.

"You never told him about your own brother?!" The blonde snarled.

"Well it hardly came up," Sherlock met the blonde's glare with his own before turning to John. "Yes, my younger brother, and last brother, Sherringford Holmes." Before John even had time for that to sink in, the blonde cut in.

"Merlin Pendragon," the blonde snarled. "We did get married three years ago, but maybe you forgot, seeing how you never found the time to show up."

The pieces suddenly fell into place for John. The blonde was Sherlock's brother-in-law. Jesus, and apparently they hated each other's guts. Also, Pendragon, where does that sound familiar? Then the final piece snapped into place as well.

"You're Arthur Pendragon." John surmised. It wasn't a question, in fact, John wondered why he hadn't noticed before. The man was on TV all the time. He was the CEO of Camelot Company, which dominated half the city.

The blonde, Arthur, nodded at him in silent agreement, his eyes softening just a little. John didn't know what to say. This was crazy. So he simply came up with the best he could:

"Oh, Okay."

That's it. Read and Review. Constructive criticism welcome. Heck, Flames are welcome to, I'll just read it and make my own decision.