FF - Sherlock=HP

Warnings : Clashing of worlds.
Characters : Sherlock Holmes, (Dr) John Watson
Summary : Every story has a beginning. A take on Sherlock and John in an alternate universe.
A/N : If writing was a spectator sport I would leave the commentary in. ;) Did you catch that bit where Sherlock calls him 'John' while he refers to Sherlock as 'Holmes'? It was intentional.

Dew on the leaves

The Gryffindor common room was too noisy for his taste, so he shut his book and walked off, clambering out of the portrait hole and wandering around the castle.

First-year John Watson was considering the possibility of sitting down on the steps of the hallway to read by wand-light when he heard the soft echoes of a distant voice. He headed in its direction and found a Ravenclaw his age, with dark curly hair talking to his head of house.

"…It was Johnson, Professor," the boy was saying calmly. "He had been meeting various students in the supplies closet on the left wing of the castle on Mondays and he ventures out into the castle grounds every Wednesday and returns with a package. Three of his contacts, Andersen, Donovan and Jensen have been found drunk around the school, incidentally, and he carries with him a particularly distinct scent of Scottish rye, Turkish spice, caramel and alcohol that grows stronger on those two aforementioned days, so unless he had been deciding to wear a fire-whisky-scented perfume then I believe your best bet would be to catch him in action in around fifteen minutes time near the pumpkin patches outside Greenhouse 4."

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow as the corner of her lips twitched upwards. "Very impressive, Mr Holmes. You solved it much faster than I expected you to."

The boy blinked. "I only observed, Professor."

"Nevertheless, ten points to Ravenclaw for your assistance. Have a good day." She bristled away, leaving Holmes to stare blankly at the empty suit of armour in front of him.

"Are you going to stand there gawking all day or are you going to say something?"

John blinked and decided it as best to step away before the boy decided to start fighting with the armour.

"I'm talking to you." Holmes turned and rounded on him, walking towards him with a cool, steady gaze.

"Oh." John swallowed. That made more sense. "It was brilliant. That thing you did."

Sherlock folded his arms neatly. "Like I said, I only observed. John Watson, right?"

John nodded apprehensively. "And you are… Sherlock Holmes? I think we take the same Charms class."

"I know we do." Sherlock murmured. "No need to state the obvious."

"And you're not very nice." John frowned, and turned away. He didn't catch the look of hurt on Sherlock's face.

"Nice view, I would say. No surprise that you would come here every day."

John nearly fell off the ledge of the breezeway in surprise. "Holmes!" He gasped. "Don't sneak up on people like that." He felt his hand rest over his chest, the shock pushing the organ to beat faster. He breathed. Sherlock climbed the low wall and sat beside him. The wind was heavy in their ears, and below them, the green trees shook and rustled.

Sherlock broke the peaceful silence. "You don't have many friends, do you?"

John glared at him pointedly. "Look, if you came here just to insult me-"

"No!" Sherlock exclaimed quickly. "That is, Professor Flitwick came to me with an issue today."

"And?"

"I, well, need to take a look at something in the Gryffindor common room." Sherlock was almost sheepish in his tone, but John didn't care.

"I'm not giving you the password to our common room. Being an egoistic intellect doesn't mean you can break a few school rules." John huffed and returned to his book, despite the fact that he found himself unable to absorb a single word.

Sherlock breathed deeply beside him, and he could hear him exhale beneath the wind's howling.

"I'm saying, that, do you… do you think you could help me?"

John could hear the quiet plead in Sherlock's voice, and he bit back a smirk. "Alright. Just this once."

"You want me to what?" John cried. "I'm not going in there! Why am I even out here anyway? Why do I have to listen to you?"

"Please, John," Sherlock implored. "The beast was positively glaring at me. And I don't have my wand."

"Oh, so I'm like a wand extension of yours now, am I?" John rolled his eyes as he tapped his foot on the grassy floor, sending flicks of morning dew flying. He had been dragged here when his Herbology lesson ended by Sherlock, who had tried to convince him to enter the Forbidden Forest with him.

"I didn't say that, John." Sherlock sighed.

John threw his hands up in despair. "Then what, Holmes, what is it?"

"The reproduction rate of unicorns increase threefold when the weather transcends from autumn to winter." Sherlock explained quietly as he pulled the blue scarf around his neck a little tighter. "And Hagrid said his King Salamander disappeared, so I thought, while I were looking for it, there might be a chance I might catch some unicorn tail hair." He neglected to mention how John had recently commented on his interest in the properties of unicorn hair, but John understood suddenly anyway. "But I found a Thestral and it refused to stop staring at me and it was so unnerving and I didn't know what to do and then there were more and I just-"

John smiled a hazy smile. "Alright, I get it. A quick look in for the King Salamander, and if we're lucky, a glimpse of an unicorn, right?"

Sherlock brightened up when John reached out to grip his hand firmly.

"Thanks."

Sherlock smiled as well in response, and led him into the forest. They didn't find the Salamander, but met a hoard of unicorns sipping from a pool.

John found out weeks later that Hagrid never lost any Salamanders.