Everyone wanted Sherlock and Harry to meet, so they do! Sort of. No need to have read any of my other fics, but, you know, it would be nice if you did. Particularly The Other Minister, where Mycroft meets Kingsley.

The two men left the toy shop, both carrying several bulging bags.

'I am never doing that again,' declared Ron, making Harry laugh. 'I'm serious! How the hell are you supposed to choose, all the stuff is the same!'

'At least Hermione gave you a list,' countered his friend. 'Ginny just said "go buy the kid's Christmas presents."'

'She only gave me a list because she knows I'm hopeless at this sort of thing.'

'Yeah, well, can you send her into a magic toy shop without a list?'

'No.' Ron snorted. 'She'd just buy books, and they've already got - hello, who's she talking to?'

Harry looked over at their families. Hermione was indeed talking to a stranger, a tall man in a swooping black coat. His face was a picture.

'That's an "over-exposure to Hermione" look if ever I saw one,' said Ron. They both then looked at the tall man's shorter companion. He was carrying several shopping bags from the supermarket next door. He looked highly amused by the situation.

'Wait a second,' said Ron, frowning, 'the man she's talking to, do you know him? I swear I've seen him before.'

'Yes… Oh! That's got to be Sherlock Holmes. He's a Muggle detective, he's been in the news a lot lately.'

'Ah. That explains that, then.'

As they got closer, Harry and Ron could hear the conversation. Or, rather, they could hear Hermione talking.

'It's not deduction, you can't just call it that when -'

'But -'

'No buts! You're not helping the IQ of the general population by simplifying things so much that they're wrong!'

'Hermione! Give him a break! Look, Harry and Ron are back.'

The whole party turned to look at them, and Ron said, 'give it a rest, Hermione. You don't need to harass strangers just because they don't know the dictionary definition of something.' Hermione huffed, and the family laughed. Sherlock Holmes looked slightly insulted, for some reason.

'You're -' he began, but just what Hermione was, they never found out, because Holmes's companion decided he'd had enough.

'Sherlock, stop. Save it for the crime scenes, alright?' He rolled his eyes at Ginny, who he'd caught smirking. Holmes still looked reluctant to let it go, so his friend produced what was obviously a trump card. 'If we don't leave this minute, you're not allowed to experiment on the milk or the pork. So let's go. Sorry,' he added to Hermione as he started to drag Holmes away.

Then James, who'd been watching the whole scene in confusion, suddenly darted forward and grabbed his coat. 'Why're you dressed like a Death Eater?' he demanded.

Harry very nearly swore. Of course James would say something like that. Holmes's big black coat looked nothing like Death Eater robes, but then, James had only ever heard them described. He'd never seen them.

Ron and Hermione were both staring at him, as if he would know what to say. Meanwhile, Holmes and his friend were looking more and more confused, and Holmes was getting a look on his face that Harry usually associated with Hermione: Sharp curiosity, and determination. Oh Merlin. If he started asking questions…

'What's a Death Eater?'

Ginny came to the rescue, finally. 'They're comic book characters, they wear coats like yours.' Good save, thought Harry, relieved. Hopefully the Muggles believed her.

Holmes looked down at James, who was still clutching his coat, with something akin to distain. Obviously not a kid person, then. 'I am wearing it,' he said flatly, 'because it is warm and comfortable and I like it.' He turned and walked away haughtily, but his friend bent down next to James.

'Don't worry about him, he's being silly. He likes to scare people'

James shook his head and wrinkled his nose. 'He looks like a bat.'

'Exactly.' Holmes's friend grinned and stood up, turning to Hermione. 'You impressed him, you know. Not often he meets people who can keep up with him like that. God knows I can't half the time.' He looked down at his shopping, as if he'd just remembered it was there. 'Right. Um, well, Happy Christmas, then.'

Harry watched the two men leave the shopping centre, already arguing again. He turned back to his family.

'Time for lunch?'

Reviews are better than the Sherlock teaser. (But then, that was torture...)