Hello, here I am trying my own hand at a Sherlock/Harry Potter crossover fic. I'm mostly going with canon, you'll see where I changed a couple small details, but I'm starting the story right after the end of Season 3 of Sherlock. Timeline years are a bit skewed, don't think it really makes a difference in terms of my story as you will see, but don't want to spoil it yet! I own nothing. Hope you enjoy!
The Return to Treasure Island ~ Chapter 1
It was a dreary grey afternoon, not too uncommon for London, but the mood fit well for Dr. John Watson who sat watching the changing of the guard outside of Wellington Barracks. It had been less than two hours since they had said their farewell. John was still in disbelief about what had just transpired, he shocked himself at how he even managed to get back by himself let alone to this spot since leaving the small airport. He had somehow managed to find his way to the same bench they had shared outside of the barracks while researching the Mayfly Man case those many months ago. Back when John felt like everything had finally seemed back in order with their lives since Sherlock's first departure. Little did the doctor know that familiarity would come crashing down as quickly as it had come back.
So much had happened in the last year. He had gotten married, Sherlock almost died, for real that time, and best of all he found out his wife was the psychopath who shot his best friend. That's not even counting the last seventy-two hours which John still hadn't quite gotten around to processing, hence wandering around London in a daze this very afternoon. They had gone from a quiet Christmas dinner at 221B with Mrs. Hudson, Molly Hooper, Greg Lestrade and a surprise appearance by Mycroft Holmes, to driving across the country to confront Charles Augustus Magnessen at Appledore. Sherlock ended up murdering the man, in front of dozens of witnesses, as well as his brother. There was no way Sherlock was going to get away with killing the man no matter how awful he was, which lead to where John was this morning, saying goodbye to his best friend as he boarded the jet to go face almost certain death.
John took a deep sigh as he thought about the last few hours. It hadn't quite sat well with him the way that Sherlock had just accepted his fate, some MI6 fieldwork Mycroft had cooked up for him surely. Yes he knew there would be consequences to the murder of Charles Augustus Magnessen, but for whatever reason John felt that they, he and his best friend Sherlock Holmes, still had unfinished business, it couldn't really be the end could it?
With another deep breath and a clench of his left fist, John stood up from the bench intent to go somewhere, anywhere that wouldn't start to remind him of Sherlock again. He'd been through this once before, even though he was pushing it to the far reaches of him mind John knew that deep down his friend was never coming back again.
A buzz from his mobile brought John back out of the all too familiar darkness that was threatening to once again overtake him.
221B Baker Street. Now.
-Mycroft Holmes
John once again clenched his fist hard and with a deep sigh wrestled down the urge to throw his phone into the pavement. It was one thing for Mycroft to boss him around when it came to his brother, but what was the need to listen to anything the man had to say to him now. As far as he knew, his time with the Holmes brothers was now at a conclusion.
John stomped around in front of the bench in a few immature circles gaining looks from the many passersby before resigning himself to the fact that he would have to go to 221B eventually, after all that was where he had been living again since his troubles with his estranged wife Mary.
"Why does everyone I know have to be a bloody psychopath!" John abruptly shouted out loud to no one in particular, which earned him even stranger looks. Resigned to the fact, John turned on his heel to catch a cab back to Baker Street.
When John exited the cab and walked towards the door of his residence he noticed the knocker was left askew on the door. Memories of Sherlock always moving the knocker when he knew his brother would be visiting just to annoy him flooded John's mind. Brushing the thoughts away and the knocker as a coincidence, he unlocked the door and entered the familiar flat. John couldn't hear any of the familiar sounds Mrs. Hudson would make if she were in, so he went straight upstairs to the flat. Opening the door he was greeted by the sight of a very familiar figure.
"Ah John, that was quite quick, I should text as Mycroft more often, alas you actually seem to obey him." The familiar deep voice of his longtime friend greeted. John could only stare. Dozens of questions racing through his head but all he could get out was a stunted,"...How?"
"Yes, it did come from Mycroft's phone, pick pocketing him is always more fun than Lestrade…the faces he makes." Sherlock gave a chuckle to himself before continuing, "I give him another minute, no 45 seconds until he shows up. " Sherlock finished with a smirk while diverting his gaze between the door and a still befuddled John.
"Sherlock that's not…I saw you get on the plane!" John clarified his question hoping for once in his life when he asked for it, Sherlock might give him a straight answer. To his immense surprise he actually did.
"I was called back, apparently there's trouble." Sherlock simply yet seriously answered, as he sat up straighter in his chair, his attention now fully on the door. John followed Sherlock's gaze to the door, not quite sure what to think of his friend's answer but he didn't have long to stew because right at that moment Mycroft Holmes entered the premises, his face slowly turning a shade of red when his attention focused on his younger brother.
"Sherlock Holmes return it at once!" Mycroft swiftly demanded.
"Twenty-two minutes brother dear, you're slipping." Sherlock pulled the slim black mobile out of his pocket and held it out for his brother to collect. Mycroft covered the distance in two long strides holding out his hand for the younger Holmes to hand back the phone.
"If you want me to continue putting out your fires Sherlock I'd advise you to not steal things that aren't yours." Mycroft's pointed expression clearly was alluding not only to the disappearance of his mobile but of drugging his brother and stealing his laptop to hold for ransom at Appledore in the days prior.
John watched the two brothers in silence, still processing the fact that Sherlock was once again sitting in 221B, like nothing had happened, like he hadn't just said goodbye to his best friend, only for him to show up once again unexpectedly. The Holmes brother's bickering was nothing John hadn't seen and heard before.
Sherlock shoved the mobile back into his brother's hands and proceeded to slink back into the recesses of his chair.
"Tell me why I'm back Mycroft, you said you would explain. If I hadn't known better your excuse that 'London needs me' might turn into a sign of affection from you, and I don't want to get ill." Mycroft pocketed his phone and swiftly turned and sat in the client chair situated next to Sherlock, and as if running on autopilot at the familiarity of the situation, John brought himself to sit down in his own chair. The doctor continued to follow the conversation taking place before him even though neither of the Holmes' was acknowledging his presence, nothing new really.
"It has come to our attention that Moriarty is operating in Treasure Island Sherlock." Mycroft stated simply steepling his fingers in the familiar Holmes fashion. If John hadn't been looking at Sherlock's face at that precise moment he might have missed the look of fear quickly pass across his friends eyes. John hadn't seen that look many times from Sherlock, but because it was so rare it was that much easier to remember. The fear quickly turned into Sherlock's calculating gaze as he himself mirrored Mycroft with the steepling of his fingers under his chin.
"Impossible, I would have known." Sherlock stated.
"Known that he was alive? We have known that fact for quite some time." Sherlock looked at Mycroft pointedly silently demanding more of an explanation. "I believe you were otherwise preoccupied…playing with goldfish brother mine…conceding yourself to sentiment as you seem to enjoy now." Mycroft drawled the sentence to a close with his arrogant smirk and Sherlock's eyes turned cold as the pieces fit together.
"You've known he's been back since The Wedding and failed to inform me brother mine." Sherlock spit the last two words out at Mycroft clearly irritated not only at missing the fact that Moriarty had returned and his brother had deemed it yet another thing to not tell him, but as well as the fact that he was turning their old turn of phrase against him. 'Caring is not an advantage.' Sherlock grumbled to himself and roughly ran his hands through his hair. Despite how he tried Sherlock could not find the proper balance in his world, and Mycroft never failed to make him forget.
"But how can he be there, it makes no sense no one would hire him, and I would have known if he was one." Sherlock was clearly frustrated, John hadn't seen him this out of sorts in quite some time.
"Times have changed dear brother, a good consulting criminal is welcome as long as he can get the job done. They're none too picky these days, a nice sight to behold actually, you should be glad." Mycroft tittered in reply.
"Don't try and make jokes Mycroft, they're never funny." Sherlock frowned before bolting up in his chair and making his way to the kitchen. A long silence followed, one that John would not break even though dozens more, on top of the first dozen questions were creeping in. He merely shifted his eyes between Mycroft twirling his umbrella underhand and Sherlock pacing the kitchen. After what Mycroft seemed to deem to be an appropriate amount of time he broke the silence.
"Dinner tonight at Mother and Father's, half six. I'll explain more there. You may tell John what he needs to know, I have had it sorted." Mycroft sat up from the chair and straightened his suit while turning towards the door. Sherlock ignored his brother's departure as he continued to pace at the back of the kitchen. John, curious whether Sherlock had even heard Mycroft or knew he was leaving was shocked to hear an obedient, albeit immature response come from the younger Holmes mouth.
"Fine. But tell Mother I'm not eating!" Mycroft was already out the door but his voice carried in from the stairway, "Don't be late brother dear, you know how Mummy gets."
Sherlock visibly huffed as he drew himself out of the kitchen now that the coast was clear and threw himself onto the sofa in the adolescent pout John knew well. Seeing that Mycroft was gone John suddenly found his voice again.
"Yeah…ok. I believe you have some explaining to do Sherlock."
John watched as Sherlock stared past him towards a rare glimpse of sun shining through the curtained window. Steepling his fingers in the way that John acknowledged as his thinking pose. In response, John stared at Sherlock a frown forming on his face, an impatient habit that had formed over the years of not getting answers from his flatmate when he really wanted them. A long sigh followed suit as John shifted his position in his chair.
"Alright then shall I start." John said in less of a question than a statement. "Treasure Island? Does this have something to do with your childhood, Mycroft once said you wanted to be a pirate. So is Moriarty pirating…going up and down the African coast? Doesn't seem like his type of thing but he did steal the crown jewels…well not really stole." John continued his monologue of "Deducing" the conversation he had just heard between the two Holmes'. Not failing to notice the slight upturn of Sherlock's lip even though the man hadn't changed positions in the slightest. John knew Sherlock got a sick sense of satisfaction listening to him try and make his own deductions only to swiftly correct and make him feel like an idiot. He only hoped this tactic to get Sherlock to talk wouldn't backfire.
"But if Moriarty is pirating why wouldn't the pirates want to hire him according to you?...But then again how in the hell is Moriarty alive? He was as dead as…well I guess you were…arg nevermind that. Tell me what the bloody hell is going on Sherlock! Now." John had finally lost his patience, sooner than he usually did but he was too amped up to play their little game. He wanted answers and found himself standing up from his chair his finger sternly pointed at the man across from him who surprisingly enough had finally returned his gaze to the doctor.
"John I ask that you suspend all sense of your previous beliefs on the subject I am about to explain to you. It will be difficult to wrap your mind around, but has anything I've ever told you actually been a lie." Sherlock paused to give John a chance to respond.
"Everything I once thought about how the world and people work changed from the moment I met you Sherlock, you know that. In a way I find it hard to believe you can surprise me more than I already have been." Earning a pleased smirk from Sherlock at John's honest response the former continued.
"To put it shortly, magic exists." Sherlock paused again as if giving John time to absorb what he just said. The moments of silence that followed did not sit well with John
"Nooo, no no no, you are not stopping there Sherlock!" John demanded his finger out again shaking at the other man. Sherlock smirked again, but continued speaking.
"Well considering you never even wanted the explanation on how I survived my fall from Bart's I thought I'd keep it short." Sherlock sniggered obviously enjoying his delayed retribution for John's disinterest in his explanation the last time he had something unbelievable to explain. However it seemed he changed his tune with the aggravated expression John was giving him. "Very well, I will try to explain succinctly, but I cannot guarantee you will understand." A short but firm nod from John, and Sherlock continued.
"Magic exists. The wizarding world exists right under your very nose, although undercover, not visible unless you are able to detect it. A whole society operates in London and without knowing how to detect its secrets you would never know. And no, before you ask it is not the kind of magic at street fairs or the magic shows you know. No sawing women in half or pulling rabbits out of hats, real magic with real dangers and consequences." Sherlock paused, through the whole explanation he was looking John in the eyes the way he usually did when explaining something serious. The doctor had no reason to doubt him, his face betrayed no lie but it was almost too incredible even for Sherlock.
"Alright Sherlock, I know your observation skills are extraordinary, but if this society is so impenetrable, how did you find out about it then?" John asked seriously. Sherlock's face twisted in an unusual way.
"Surprisingly enough you believe me when I say magic is real, but not when we're watching crap telly and I know who the father is."
"I didn't say you didn't know Sherlock, I said there could be more than two options…and don't change the subject Sherlock!" John replied with a sigh and a shake of his head, not wishing to rehash their old argument about pointless telly. However John was even more curious because obviously Sherlock was trying to delay the next part of his explanation.
"I know, because I grew up in that world." Sherlock answered quickly averting his gaze towards the window once again. Giving himself a few moments before he returned his eyes back towards John, instead of a shocked or even confused face he was partially expecting from his friend, he was greeted instead by a smile forming on John's face. Utterly confused by John's reaction Sherlock sputtered out. "What? Why smile now!"
"It all makes bloody sense now. You can do magic, that's how you function, you can read minds by doing a spell or something, right then?" John's smile swiftly dropped off his face at the cold expression and drop in Sherlock's face at his statement.
"I am not one of them John. Do not mistake that." Sherlock coldly replied.
At the statement and the sudden movement of his flatmate from the sofa towards the window where his violin was kept, John knew the conversation for the time being was over. The doctor wasn't sure what to make of Sherlock's answer that he wasn't a magician and why it had clearly upset him, but he drew himself up out of his chair to leave Sherlock's space and head towards the kitchen. As John crossed the threshold into the small kitchen he heard Sherlock speak again and turned around.
"It's already half five, Mycroft will be sending a car to pick us up for dinner soon…" Sherlock trailed off in the way he did while he was thinking out loud. "I apologize John, for my outburst, I will explain more later, dinner might prove educational as well if you will come…" He trailed off again, John could tell this time was because of uncertainty.
"Of course I'll come Sherlock, if you want me to." John stated before adding "This whole thing is a bit crazy, even crazier than normal actually. A little at a time is fine by me…yeah." John stated with a smile to reassure his friend. Even though John was still bursting with questions, the doctor was still concerned about Sherlock's sensitivity towards the subject. He knew it would be best to wait until Sherlock was in a more amenable state of mind. "I'll just go grab a coat then, be down in a minute."
John left the kitchen while Sherlock habitually drew the violin he was still holding toward his chin for a quick tune. By his approximation he had three minutes before the usual black sedan pulled up in front of Baker Street to take them away towards a dinner Sherlock was not, in any way, looking forward to.
Thanks for reading, let me know what you think, more to come!