A/N: Fangirls mistake the tetrad for cosplayers and hilarity ensues. No, seriously. I figured I could have fun with that after realizing how many conventions London holds every year. This one was inspired by Pink's Centerfold. The lyrics are so Sherlock I cracked up laughing as I listened. Okay, I'm a huge fan now that I've actually seen some of the episodes and everything either relates to the Avengers or Sherlock lately. Not to mention my increasingly annoying Sesshomaru Muse that keeps dragging my other Muses into the mud; damn daiyōkai. Dedicated to Reader-anonymous-writer for supporting this for as long as I have had it going. Thank you and I'm wrestling my Muses into submission for our project! *smiles* Question, does anyone actually read the crap I write up here before the story? Words with one of these (*) at the end will be explained after the Ending A/N.
DISCLAIMER: If I owned either series, most people wouldn't want to read/watch them. Alas, I do not and no matter how much I deduce or wave my wand, I will never own them. Thank Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the lovely Ms. Rowling for these characters as well as the BBC for modernizing Sherlock to make this sort of thing even possible...
WARNING: This is an Alternate Universe. If you did not catch the drift within the A/N, let me point it out in big, bold letters. THIS IS A YAOI FIC. As with all my warnings, if you do not like slash or the pairings mentioned above, stop reading and click the back button. It isn't that hard to do. Reading any farther than the third line of this warning means one thing only; you enjoy slash. Excellent. There will be the probability of M-Preg as this is magic and anything goes! If M-Preg bothers you, please follow line three to the back button. If you appreciate a good story even if it's not your thing, then you're welcome to it. Heavy making out in front of fangirls. Mwahahaha!
Ryder
P.S. READ THIS FIRST! Not all of the characters encountered will have Talent*. In fact most of them are perfectly normal. Don't freak out if your favorite character doesn't have it. I might even write an omake or two if you review prettily.
DMMWw Centerfold DMMWw Centerfold DMMWw
Sherlock tapped away on John's laptop keyboard, updating his website while his tea was getting cold.
"Sherlock, drink your tea or I will." John laughs as he encircles his tea with one arm as he continued to type. "At least let me put a lid on it so it stays warm, genius."
"Fine." he muttered, absently seeking out Severus's hand as he typed one-handed. Slender fingers laced with his as he finished with his site. He closed the laptop and pushed it over to Harry laughing when Severus pressed butterfly kisses to his neck. "Sev!" His lover chuckled as he leaned back, obsidian eyes falling back to the page of the thick Potions tome.
"What can I say? You were distracted."
"Oh, wow! Did you curl your hair?" Sherlock nearly jumped at the high-pitched squeal sent his direction. "That is such a good Sherlock cosplay..."
"A what? John, make them go away." Sherlock murmured, sending a panicked look his wolf's way.
"Oh my God. They totally planned this out. Seriously, what's your name?" Harry was busy typing in something into John's laptop so Sherlock hid behind his smart-phone and texted his brother.
Mycroft, what is cosplay? -SH
He hit the send button and got an instant reply from the woman calling herself Anathea (for now). She irritated him to no end due to her association with Mycroft.
Short for 'costume play' it is a type of performance art in which participants don costumes and accessories to represent a specific character or idea.
He sighed, his typing speed becoming faster. "Oh, wow, he even has the same smart-phone!" Sherlock resisted the urge to snap at them that of course it was his phone.
A group of girls complimented me on my Sherlock cosplay. I am merely wearing my usual jacket and scarf. -SH
Harry turned the laptop around and Sherlock read the page through once before choking on his mouthful of tea. Apparently, someone had made a TV show about his and John's adventures. He texted Mycroft again, this time understandably shocked.
Why is there a television show about John and I? -SH
The reply was from Mycroft this time; he could feel the snark through the text.
It wasn't like I could say no, Sherlock. There is only one copy-right on Sherlock Holmes and that one belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The others have permission to use your name.
He frowned at his smart-phone before grinning at John in a manner that meant he was up to no good.
"Sherlock?" his wolf's tone was wary but still curious.
"Nothing, John." Severus had read the Wikipedia page and was now silently laughing, the broad shoulders shaking with held-in mirth.
"Bloody priceless." Severus managed after a few moments of composing himself.
"Nice Harry Potter cosplay!" This time it was a group of boys wearing what looked to be Hogwarts uniforms. Sherlock laughed at Severus and Harry's shocked looks before typing in his lover's name. What popped up was far too close to the truth.
"Perhaps we should go along with the whole charade?" he asked quietly, sipping his cold tea with a grimace. "That is disgusting when it's cold."
"Told you should drink it faster." came John's retort, a grin on his beloved's face. "I think we should, just for peace of mind."
"Agreed. What are those girls giggling about?" Severus huffed, burying his nose back into the book with haste.
"They're fangirls." The absolute horror in Harry's voice is enough to convince Sherlock that they were to be avoided at all costs. "Apparently, in this set of books, you're a right bastard... And you die." Severus scowled at the computer before shutting it down and stowing it away in John's laptop bag.
"Harry, I'm right here." Harry sent Severus a wry smile before a mischievous grin appeared on his face. "What's with that-Mmmr." Both of them ignored the gasping, the fainting and the down-right awkward pictures taken as they kissed.
"Whoot! Some Snarry!" They fought not to laugh at the enthusiasm.
Sherlock snagged John's waist and did the same, his eyes closing as his mind went blank. The cat-calls and wolf-whistles are what pull him out of his moment with John. He flips them off and pulls John closer again, tasting every part of John's mouth with his tongue, purring as John replied in kind.
"John, you're making the fangirls faint." Harry managed through his laughter. His wolf smiled into the kiss, pulling back to nuzzle Sherlock's neck and nip with his teeth.
"I could bloody care less." came the smug answer, tawny-laced hazel locking with his own cobalt. John caressed his cheek with his fingertips.
"Yeah, you guys go all the way! Johnlock for the win!" They looked at each other before cracking up laughing. "What's so funny?" That just set them off for another round of laughter.
Sherlock went out by himself to get groceries for the flat and deliberately skirted around the teens (adults were there as well) wearing various costumes. Thankfully the groups from before had clearly moved on. He bought the milk, tea and various necessities. About a third of the way home he noticed a presence that was distinctly odd and out of place. Lengthening his stride, he took a sudden right since his mental map of London was better than any GPS. The presence that had been following hesitated before continuing cursing quite colorfully in American English. He whirled suddenly, activating his Talent, the concrete rising up on his command and gently pushing the minds of others to not pay attention to the wall.
"Why are you following me?" he questioned calmly, texting Severus as if he had nothing better to do.
I might be late. Someone followed me into my trap. -SH
"What?" Sherlock sighed, tucking his phone away. "How the hell did you make that wall?"
"Don't play stupid with me. You've been following me for exactly eight point seven blocks since I walked out of the market." he countered, "You're out of breath because you cursed when I took a short-cut only a third of the way. You're American because you haven't used typical British swears nor any in another language. How long have you been watching me?" he let his sarcasm show through as he deduced the idiot.
"How the hell did you know I was following you?"
"Simple; your footsteps are heavy due to the boots you wear and they started as soon as I left with my groceries. You were not subtle in the least nor did you make any attempt to blend in with the crowds. Really, who wears a black leather jacket and heavy combat boots to go through London? A pair of walking shoes is more logical as well as practical. Your cologne is not a common British one nor is it a popular brand. Is it your attempt at solo work or are you working for Moriarty?"
"You know about Moriarty? How much do you know?"
"He is my arch-nemesis. Surely your informant gave you that much." he snarked, pulling down the concrete with a subtle wave of his hand.
"You're a strange one. The American government has taken an interest in you because Moriarty has never shown this level of attention to anyone before."
"He wants my attention, idiot, and he has it. It's not every day a highly-functioning sociopath locks his attention on an original villain. Even you fell for the cliché of an American agent visiting England. I suggest you ditch the jacket, the boots and the camouflage pants. Dress like an obnoxious tourist and they won't notice a thing." He advised as he turned on his heel and continued walking as though the less than ten minute conversation hadn't even happened. "Oh and don't bother applying for the Secret Service; you won't make it. They'll find that tid-bit about you killing your neighbor in self-defense when we both know it was because he made advances at you."
"How-"
"You still limp from the injury he gave you before he died. A knife wound along the inner thigh, about thirty-five centimeters long. Thick scarring thus the change in gait because the tissue didn't heal right."
"You got the attacker wrong. It was a woman."
"Ah, always something." He muttered, his mind turning over the new evidence.
Severus opened the door to the flat and Sherlock explained what had kept him so long. They scowled at the mention of Moriarty but knew that this particular 'game' was between him and his enemy.
"Any information on your side of the house, kitten?" he asked as he absently deleted old texts from Lestrade and Mycroft from his smart-phone.
"Nothing. Hermione's trying to tap the Muggle underground, but it's slow."
"Slowly is perfectly fine. I know he's deliberately hiding in plain sight." Sherlock grumbled as he slipped off his jacket and scarf.
"Do you know his-Oh my Merlin. I'm such an idiot. Point-Me Moriarty." He watched as the Elder Wand spun in a tight circle before pointing precisely in the direction of New Scotland Yard.
"Is that the direction he's in?" John asked, his voice laced with incredulity.
"If Moriarty is part of his truly given name, then that is definitely a yes." Severus replied with a bit of chagrin in his own voice.
"This seems like cheating." Sherlock admitted frowning at the innocent looking wand balanced in Harry's hand.
"I could ask Death... Which really would be cheating." Harry remarked casually, studying his nails as both Sherlock and John gave matching looks of confusion.
"I could have sworn I heard you say Death, kitten. Mind explaining?" John's the first to recover, his eyes full of curiosity.
"Ah... I forgot that part, didn't I? I'm the Master of Death." Sherlock snapped out of his funk as he heard the title. He made a triumphant noise in the back of his throat, dashing upstairs to John's old room, digging for a specific tome that had been in the Holmes library for centuries. He gleefully took the stairs two at a time, landing in a crouch before he unwrapped the thin volume with a bright light in his eyes.
"You mean Beedle the Bard? That Master of Death?" Severus gasped and his eyes landed on the very old book Sherlock held.
"The original Olde English version was lost in 1878. How do you have it?"
"It was a gift to my namesake that year from Lord Riordan Potter for solving a case." he murmured quietly, gazing at the book fondly. "Father read these to Mycroft and I before bed each night. He found it in the library one evening and thought they'd make good tales to lull us to sleep. It turns out that Father was from a long line of Squibs and the magic manifested in what it saw as the last generation of the Holmes line. Mycroft showed me that woman's search for a Muggle."
"Well, I don't have to explain it then." Sherlock scooped John up and turned to The Tale of the Three Brothers, his finger absently tracing the symbol of the Deathly Hallows.
"There were once three brothers who were travelling along a lonely, winding road at twilight..." he began, unknowingly imitating his Father right down to the tone of voice.
The knowledge that Moriarty was part of New Scotland Yard was a little tid-bit that Sherlock couldn't shake. He knew it wasn't the field representatives as they all either openly despised him or ignored him. It had to be someone who worked on the inside but have enough knowledge gleaned from the regular team to 'admire' him. This was his toughest case yet and he wasn't even interested in another. Which of course the universe interpreted as boredom and Lestrade had another one when he dropped by.
"I really should start demanding pay for this." he muttered as they drove to the scene.
"No need; that scary brother of yours dropped by and mentioned it to my boss's boss." Lestrade laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head sheepishly.
"Nonsense, Mycroft is perfectly harmless most days." Sherlock snorted, sneering at Anderson as a matter of habit.
"To you maybe, Freak, but he's creepy as fuck to the rest of us." He merely stared Donovan down and casually brushed the spot on his neck where she still had the scar from the broadsword. She unconsciously mimicked him, stiffening as she felt the scar tissue. Sherlock grinned savagely as his mind began deducing the crime scene. The team backed off as he stepped over the tape and took in the surrounding area.
"Hmm. Broken hand and arm indicate defensive wounds. Bruising suggests that some sort of pipe was used deliberately. Was the victim associated with the Mafia, Triad, Freemasons, Illuminati in any way?" he asked Lestrade, something at the corner of his eye catching his attention. "He was assassinated by the Ozunu Clan.* They use black sand as a delivery message. Check the current rate for a hundred pounds of gold and see if a friend of his has lost approximately the same amount. You won't catch the one who actually did it," he concluded, "But you can catch his friend who started all of this."
Harry's check-up for the fifth months was rather eventful. The Mage triplet obviously didn't like Abbot, just like their wolf. Like father, like child; the Witch had the gall to look offended. Sherlock took her by the elbow with a smile that could have killed from how sickeningly sweet it was. They went out into the Warded hallway, Sherlock's smile falling away like water flows.
"Healer... Abbot, was it? Can I call you Hannah?"
"Yes." she looked down like she was a blushing maiden from his namesake's time. Sherlock mentally snorted at the display, willing her to look at him.
"Hannah, you will never again compare yourself to my lover. If you manage to get past my Talent all you will be able to say is things that compliment him. He is carrying my child and he is the most precious thing to me along with the remainder of my tetrad, woman. Do not test me." he hissed, eyes flashing a burning sapphire. They came back into the room no differently than when they had left it, save that Abbot was firmly reminded that she belonged to neither of them. Healer Nott replaced her for the exam and smiled at the bright results.
"Two girls and a boy. Congratulations. The Mage child is very responsive to the environment outside. I suggest you be careful what you say from now on in terms of curse words and such. That may be the first word they speak. These children are going to be so very gifted."
"Thanks Theo." Harry laughed as he was lifted and gently twirled by John and Severus. Sherlock knelt and stroked softly over the stretched skin, something akin to awe flooding him as he felt a thump against his hand.
"Oh my Merlin... They've started moving." Harry whispered, petting a soothing hand along his abdomen.
"So they have, kitten."
"Teddy's going to have his hands full when we ask him to babysit..." Severus chuckled as they held hands with Harry to support their beloved.
"Of course, it'll be all Sherlock's fault."
"What? Me? Why am I the bad influence?" he protested, much to the amusement of his lovers.
Ending A/N: Yay! My Muse for this beat the other Muses down so that this could be written. I should probably sleep after I post this. Blegh, so tired but I can't sleep until I shake the Muses. Evil things they are when you want to sleep like a log... As always, folks, review! It's that box at the end of the chapter? Write me something! I still take song suggestions!
*This clan is from a movie made in 2009. Whoever guesses it gets acknowledgement in the next installment and a cyber-brownie!
