A/N: Hello all! This is my first adventure into a crossover story. I REALLY hope you like it; I have been working this for about a month. I would love your opinions, reviews, thoughts, what you like, what you didn't.
-Summary: 13 years of pain, suffering, & a wish for death is suddenly taken away when a man with slate/blue eyes gently grabs my wrist and just gives me a smirk.
-Story revolves mostly in normal London, with some mentions of the WW, maybe an 'adventure' to it later on. fem!harry, nonromantic john/sherlock, differentish Mycroft (to a point) and Greg just being Greg.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but original characters. Duh. That is all I will say.
A/N: Such love, so many favorites and follows, but reviews are low…but LOVES! Ok, so now, we will be moving the story forward some. Let's see how Stella is recovering, shall we?
Turns out there were more injuries that we had overlooked that ended up keeping me away from school for three weeks; internal bleeding from either idiot bloke number one or two repeatedly punching me in the abdomen & being thrown into rounded objects with force. But now, I finally feel human again and the bruising is reduced to just some green/yellow patches on my neck and lower back. It's nice to know I don't look like a human punching bag anymore, although dad still gets angry when I flinch at the wrong movement or stretch. He really seems to have it out for Lucille, whose family was trying to get her out of it, despite the evidence to the contrary.
"Stella, we're going in five." Da's voice calls up the steps into my open room. Today, I was formally making my statement for Uncle Greg, who despite not normally working this sort of case, wanted to make sure no one else mucked it up.
"Cor, hold on! You said twelve thirty, it's only eleven da!" I yell this out from the bathroom, fighting with my hair. My voice had finally recovered and didn't sound like a drunken Scotsman anymore. Cadence kept up the joke that I was just like her dad after a long night in the pub, despite my constant retaliation of paper bits to her skull in retaliation.
"Well, Sherlock is demanding we do…something before we go to Scotland Yard. You know how he is." Da's voice was closer and when I looked out into my room, I found him leaning against the outer doorframe. He had his normal outfit on, if a bit newer; dad insisted that if da just had to wear jumpers all the time, he would have the best ones available. So he trashed the ones da had in his wardrobe while he was at the Surgery, with some help from me, and replaced them all. Dad had failed to inform me that he had once again broken into da's room to do this, making me his accomplice; meaning I was not safe from the earful da dished out when he returned home.
"Did he happen to mention what we needed to do? No wait, don't answer that, I already know the response. Something tells me random taxi stops are in order." Dad had a habit of not telling us his plans until halfway through.
Giving up, I pull my hair into the cap, & I leave the room with da, but stop midway down the steps when I see dad almost upside down against his bedroom door.
"Dad?"
"Shush, Stella, daddy's working." Clipped. Rushed. Upside Down. Must be a very tricky case indeed. I haven't seen this in a long time.
"Nope, come on Master Detective, we got places to go apparently." I reply, pulling his feet off the door as I pass him, forcing him to right himself.
"Yes, very busy day ahead of us. Come protégé, we have crimes to solve so our blogger can work!"
Ever since he found out my 'idiotic' plan of trying to keep the wizards in line while in muggle London, dad kept his promise to use me in his cases, not that I was complaining. He had started this before…before Moriarty came into play; now he was making up for lost time. In the past two weeks, he had me helping, abate from the safety & comfort of the living room, on three new cases that Uncle Greg had brought him, two of which we both solved in a day. The third is the one that was causing him to…go topsy turvey.
"Oi, the 'blogger' is right here & right now, it's about Stella and Scotland Yard, not your case Sherlock!"
"It's always about a case." Dad & I voice as the same time, earning a groan from the blonde.
"Dear god, she's turning into you AND Mycroft. The world better run."
I suddenly grin, taking the chance when I had it. "That's me and that's WHO I am. Basically, run!" I laugh out the last line while quickly descending the stairs, dad right behind me.
I vaguely hear da yell out something about 'no more Who' but he knows that will never happen, not with the new series coming out. David Tennet, now there was a Doctor. Don't get me wrong, I adore and love Chris, but David was just so…him. Dad doesn't seem to care for him, always critiquing his episodes way more than Chris; though he doesn't know I know he's been rewatching series three. Putting the show out of my head, I slip into the waiting taxi after dad, da soon following.
"So, we, that is you, give the formal statement in video form so you won't need to testify in open court multiple times then Mycroft will be there to present the evidence so that we can have a restraining order out against this Lucille creature; all for the purpose of when, not it, she does try to come at you, we will have all legal right to destroy her and her family." Dad said this all with an evil smirk that never failed to weird me out, no matter how much I adore him.
Although, I've only seen that expression on his face a total of three times in my life: when he found out Uncle Mycroft did what he did, when Moriarty broke into the flat and kidnapped me, & Uncle Vernon openly threatening me in court. I knew this would not end in anyway good for Lucille. Throughout the drive to Scotland Yard, da was unusually quiet while dad was highly & unusually talkative, abate it was about the current case; black market paintings and pottery from India and lower Asia flooding into the market, similar to the case from three years past, oh what was the name that da gave it in his blog, oh yes 'The Blind Banker'; clever name, based on the first clue in the case. Dad was stretching out his contacts as far as he could, but every lead was met with a dead end, leading us to believe that the Black Lotus was working a new section of the continent again.
"The only thing is dad, there haven't been-"
"Any murders with the signature again, I know, but that is-"
"Usually saved for the smugglers, I know, but they have murdered some high profile people before. Look at the ambassador of Mongolia, the ambassador of-"
"Pakistan & Thailand, all murdered in their own beds, black lotus blossom on their chests, with no sign of forced entry at any of the scenes, I know."
"Would you two please shut it, me head hurts from the both of ya!"
Our eyes swing behind us, locking them onto the cab driver, who suddenly looked regretful, pulling his cap down over his eyes.
Dad's eyes swept over the man, but he paused, allowing me work my own deductions. "balding, graying in fact, long time smoker, heavy drinker, cirrhosis, high blood pressure, anger issues, underlying COPD, tinnitus interesting that our conversation was giving you a headache, anarchist, broken shoulder blade healed of course, & of course a throbbing hangover, makes me wonder why we are your cab at all." As I finish, I can see the man shaking with anger.
Dad's eyes were lit up with pride as his adds his own in. "Don't forget losing out on a fair and will soon be reprimanded for what I imagine is only one of numerous times once I inform his supervisor that he is in fact still drunk. Come John, Stella, we'll walk the rest of the way. Good day, Cabbie 678."
With that, da opens the door and rushes out, the two of us following. The driver was still, his face white with fear, though his body was still shaking with anger. We were blissfully close the Yard, so we didn't need to wait long until we were at the doors of the Uncle Greg's division. Understandably, I never liked coming here unless needed because of the numerous interactions with Anderson & Donovan, who still insisted on calling dad 'Freak'; they were just highly irritating people. They further dragged da & I's opinion on them down after Moriarty's trial; they knew that we knew they badgered Uncle Greg and then his superior over the moronic idea that dad was sham and was setting everything with his cases up. 'Sir Boasts-A-Lot' Moriarty had called him; that simplistic, childlike term tore my world apart and those two got an earful and fistful from me after I found out what they had done.
Dad's gloved hand push the door open as I readjust his red scarf around my neck, preparing myself for the looks and whispers I know will occur; it's idiotic to think no one in the department doesn't know what happened to the teenager that DI Lestrade calls 'niece'. As I predicted, when we walked in, the conversations dropped then picked up again, eyes tracking our path through the cubicles. I see Donovan sitting at her desk, head bent over paperwork but it snaps up as we past, her eyes wary as she watches dad and me. She keeps quiet and bends her head to her work again; smart woman.
Uncle Greg was waiting for us outside his office with the Chief Superintendent next to him; along with another man who I know is Lucille's lawyer. 'Why is here?' I can tell that question was going through the dads' minds as well, but we keep it silent as we stop in front of the men. Uncle Greg greets us, introduces his boss, who glares at Da, prompting a snicker to build in the back of my throat and a smirk on dad's lips. Da's blue eyes glare us down before returning Greg's greetings. We move into the office, where I see a video camera on a tripod is facing the window, the blinds closed behind an additional chair stuffed into the room.
"Why is he here? I know that Ms. Marroe's lawyer will try anything to get her off, but he has no legal right to be the room while Stella gives her Testimony." Dad's words were icy, directed at the balding lawyer.
"Mr. Johns is here for multiple reasons, Mr. Holmes, not just the testimony." The superintendent replied, leaving it at that.
"Ah, I see. You're going to see if it will be worth actually defending the child anymore. Smart move, Mr. Johns."
"Stella, I need you that chair please." Uncle Greg pulled me towards it, hiding his own grimace. 'He doesn't want that lawyer here either. The CS must be pulling rank, but why?' Uncle Greg's hand was tight on my shoulder, sending the unspoken message through his eyes. 'We'll have a private talk later, promise.' I give a slight node before sitting, removing my jacket in the process. The camera's red light glared out at me, but I concentrate on Greg, who moves to his desk and hits record.
"Monday April 24, 12:36 PM. This Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade obtaining the official testimony of Ms. Stella Astre Holmes, age 16, victim of the assault on April 2 evening. Ms. Holmes, do you swear under penalty of perjury and potential imprisonment that your following testimony is the truth?"
"I swear." I respond, my eyes on his brown.
"Then, please give the report of what occurred the night of April 2, please."
I sigh and take a deep breath, realizing that this will be the first time the dads hear the whole event as well. Great.
I was staying late at the school to help with Anita Rush's campaign to be the new class president and she looked to be the first one to finally beat Lucille to the office in the three years since she tricked everyone into voting for her. I was the main 'hype' girl, the one who designed all the posters and fundraising events that were pushing Anita into the lead with recent polls. This was big: a chunk of us final years did not want Lucille as the president again this time, so we needed to make the rest of the class, or at least a majority, defected away from the vile girl. She had been bribing and blackmailing her way into the position for the past three years, thinking that it would look good on college transcripts; even if this was the only extra thing she ever did in school.
After three hours, I finish up the last round of campaign poster designs on the private laptop Anita borrowed from her dad, a graphic design shop owner, before shutting it down and locking it in Mr. Devin's office, the art director of the school. I didn't realize that I had lingered this long, the time already 7:30! If I wasn't home soon, dad was going to trek out to find me and then I would get an earful. To be fair, I did tell them I would be staying late at the school to do this; just so happens it was an extra late here.
I race out of the school, waving to the security officers as I pass their office, Officers Janes and Harding smirking as I race past. This was not a new occurrence to them, as I have been staying late off and on for the past 2 months to help with the campaign. The sun was still on the horizon, the sky filled with red and orange; yep I was an hour late already. I should have been paying attention, after everything I went through from Moriarty's men; but I don't watch the people I pass as I race home, my bag jumping up and down on my hip as I run.
That's when I run smack into a large form, sending me flying back, only to meet another form, whose hands grip my forearms. My vision clears and I see Joffrey Mingus in front of me, the 6 foot, 250lb rugby player grinning at me; then the person behind me would then be his twin Ian Mingus, the footballer of the family. I try to shake him off, but he grips my arms tighter. Then I notice two others: Joffrey & Ian's friend Colin Smite, another footballer and Ian's girlfriend Janice Burton, a rather large girl who played rugby on the girl squad. If they're here, she isn't far behind them; probably hiding away in her car.
"Well now, look who we got here guys, the little bitch who doesn't know to listen to orders." Janice sneered as she spoke, her dirty blonde hair falling in her face. I really dislike this girl; she was just a sheep! Never had her own thought, just followed everyone else like a lost puppy unless she's sent off to fight their battles.
"Piss off Burton. When will you and the hag learn I don't take orders from anyone less than the Her Majesty? You would think you would have that through your thick skulls since this the 10th time you have tried to intimidate me into backing out of Anita's campaign." I reply, keeping the urge to spit at the girl down.
A fist connecting with my abdomen breaks my concentration, the air blasting out of my lungs. Joffrey stood back before landing another blow on my side, finally moving back to stand next to Janice again; who was sneering again with glee all over her mug.
"Well, we decided we needed to up our game, Stella. Now, you will destroy any work you have done for Little Anita and then stop helping her."
"Bugger off, you barmy todgers!"
Joffrey's fist reconnected with my stomach multiple times; prompting me to taste the blood in my mouth.
"Little bint. Think you're better than us just because your poof dad is a knight and you met the bloody queen." That would be idiot bloke number one; oh Joffrey you twit.
Glaring, I rear back, catching Ian by surprise, bringing my legs up to kick Joffrey in the chest, sending him back into Colin and Janice. I pull my arms out of Ian's grip, my bag falling to the side as I back into the closest wall, watching the group recover. Ian is the first to move, swinging at my chest, missing me as I dodge, da's self-defense lessons coming through with no thought. I jam my elbow into his gut and knee into his groin; then slammed my foot into Colin's knee, dropping the boy onto his old injury.
Hands grip me hand, pulling me up before a fist connects with my abdomen again, forcing the air out of my lung once again, but it also forces me to my knees; my breathing was harsh and burned with every inhale/exhale.
"I say we just throw her in the river." Ah, & there is idiot bloke number one's brother.
"Shut it, you twits!" Well shite, so she is here.
Fingers grip my hair and pull it back, forcing me to sit up and then she was in my face: Lucille, black eyed brunette with the nastiest attitude to match her ice heart.
"Cor Lucille, didn't know you cared enough to actually involve yourself in these things." I spit out, landing specks of blood onto her coat.
"I'll make you regret ever trying to take me down." She whispered before hitting me with a sharp rock across my face before holding me up, allowing idiot blokes one, two and three to have a go at me again.
"You know, I bet your pathetic, poof dads are so proud of you aren't they? Little prude bitch like you trying to run the school like that father of yours tries to run London. Everyone knows he's a fake, liar, a psychopathy, not to mention that army doctor of yours; he's even worse! Knew Holmes for all of a day before he moved in; was he that desperate for bedtime play?" Her voice was like poison, making me see red. It took I could to hold back the cracking seals on my magic as my anger races through my mind; now was not the time for this.
I slam my head back, meeting her nose and chin, her hands releasing me as I lash out and send Ian and Colin into the lamp posts, knocking them out. Janice tried to restrain me again, but I sent her to boyfriend's side; leaving me with Joffrey and Lucille. I should stop, I should run now, but that Slytherin side of my mind was shut off as the Gryffindor side was raging over the dads' defamation of character from this…this thing. She had NO right to talk about my dads that way; they saved my life and NO ONE talked about them like that.
Joffrey moved forward with Lucille, catching me on the cheek while I dodged Lucille again, tripping her as I did; I did turn and slam my hand down onto Joffrey's wrist, feeling it break as the other side met the cold concrete. He screamed as he fell away, leaving to turn, finding Lucille gone; that's fine, let her run. I slowly pull my bag off the ground and make my way home, my face pulsing with this ache that reminded me I did something stupid.
When I stop, I see the dads and Uncle Greg shaking with anger and could feel the tears streaming down my cheeks as CS hands me a box with tissues, letting me compose myself. Greg shakes his head and reaches for the camera.
"Interview Ms. Stella Astre Holmes terminated at 2:15 PM by Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade."
I can hear the dads talking, but I concentrate on Greg as he pulls me up and out of the room, tucked into his side, my head leaning against his; it nice to be around someone other than da who was closer to my height. I was lucky to have been able to grow with puberty thanks the Dr. McNamera & Mr. Deedra's intensive care; if I had kept up the way I had been, I would have been lucky to make it past 5'4. I was lucky in quite a few aspects in my life when it came to 221 B Baker Street; never would have dreamed of it that terrifying trip up to London with Vernon.
"How you feeling love?"
Greg's voice brings me out of my musings as we walk into another room, the only noise from the telly. He gives me a look that dares me to even try to lie to him; something I adore about him, he can has a knack of knowing when I need someone to call me out on my BS.
"I'm ok, just never easy to sit there in front of the parentals explaining what happened the day their kid got the shite kicked out of her nor easy to voice it after so many dreams. Just another hurdle in my life, Uncle Greg."
He pulls me into a hug, letting me bury my nose into his shoulder, the smell of stale coffee overwhelming the normal scent of paper and ink. His hugs were some of the best, because it feels like a bear is holding you safe, not letting the world touch you for a brief second of time.
"I'll take of it on my end love; you just concentrate on getting better. That alright with you, Stella?"
I nod and he pulls back, kisses my cheek, & then turns to the coffee pot, pouring himself a drink while I make my back out of the break room, seeing the dads waiting for me, coat and scarf in hand. Their faces were clear, but I could see the checked anger in their eyes; never the less, dad tucks me into his side after I don the items & we leave the building.
Only to encounter Uncle Mycroft waiting, his usual black umbrella prompting him up; how anyone ever found him scary, i will never know. Silly man, my uncle, but I love him anyway. I raise an eyebrow at him, gaining in return, three words.
"Queen and Country."
Well, shite. Damn that code I inadvertently created that day with Lucius; but if Uncle Mycroft was invoking that, then it must mean…
"How serious?"
"Madam Bones."
The Director of the Magical Law Enforcement…here? In Muggle London?
"Right, so I'll be home for dinner then. I'll call when I'm leaving; don't worry, I'll let you know then." I added the last bit in a whisper to dad's ear when I kissed his cheek before telling da the same thing while hugging him.
We had an agreement, the dads and me, that if and only if Uncle Mycroft invoked the code word, I was allowed to involve myself in the wizarding affairs into Muggle London. I was alright with this, for now; I would act if I needed to without my uncle's permission, although, I think the family knows this, hence the numerous tracking devices I constantly find and destroy on my person and things. After sliding into Uncle Mycroft's waiting car, I go over the file he hands to me as he follows suit into the car. I'm grateful to have something distract me from the resurfaced memory that would surely play out into a nightmare tonight. The details in the file cause me to pause; well now, this is interesting.
A/N: I'm SOOO SORRY for the wait. I had work & then for about a week, I was laid up with very bad back pain. But here it is: chapter 9 for my lovelies! I adore each and every one of you.
