Hello! Sorry for the delay, got a bit out of my muse, or whatever the excuse is right now. Due to my distraction, I got out a few chapters for some other fics, but I've been steadily plugging away at this one, so I hope you enjoy the read! It's a bit rushed, but I got on a roll, so please forgive any spelling errors because I have to go to work soon but I wanted to update this ASAP for you!
General Disclaimers and Warnings, see previous chapters.
Thanks for all the reviews by the way! They were very encouraging when I was uninspired of stuck for ideas! You guys rock!
Sherlock stared at the imploring green eyes. They were quite the anomaly. Eyes shouldn't be that large or quite so very green, and how on earth did the boy get them to shimmer with what looked like hope? It did not make sense at all. Nor did it make him want to scoop up the boy and protect him from all his hurts and fears... no, that was most certainly what John was in danger of doing. He was practically twitching to do so.
No there was a perfectly logical reason for all of this unwarranted protectiveness going about the room. Even the bloody dog was influenced! Humans are drawn to 'baby proportions' – in that certain features, among them large eyes, endear themselves to the human psyche, and instill a sense of protectiveness. This ensures the defence of the weaker humans, promoting a nurturing environment until they grow into adulthood.
So it was the large eyes that were nagging at Sherlock to agree to the bother of having a child underfoot for goodness-knew-how-long. Then again, there was another draw; they boy was quite the mystery, and having him around would allow Sherlock to back off the questioning and just observe for the duration. Once the boy was comfortable, he would be able to glean so much more information through behaviour and slips then through interrogative techniques.
He would even put up with the dog, if only to see what exactly it was trained in. He couldn't imagine anyone teaching a dog how to hold a staring contest...
He nodded slightly to John, who positively beamed at him. He addressed Mycroft while gazing at the small boy who had turned up at their doorstep,
"I'm certain you can process our custody of Harry with the proper amount of discretion?"
Mycroft looked almost offended.
"You wound me, dear brother. Mr. Potter, I will ensure that the proper channels are seen to. These men will be your temporary guardians, so I believe that falls under family laws. You may tell them what you will. Good day, Dr. Watson, Mr. Potter. Sherlock." And with that he clutched his umbrella, turned on his heel, and left the flat.
Sherlock turned to look at his new charge, and almost had to flinch back. They boy's eyes were sparkling now. The human eye should not be able to do that! Sherlock could attest to this, having made a detailed study on several different specimens that may or may not have originated in St. Bart's. He gave a long sigh, and addressed his flatmate.
"I suppose he will be needing certain things, no? I'm afraid I find inventory and shopping terribly dull, so I'll leave you to it. I have something that needs looking into." He began pulling on his overcoat, and reached for his favourite scarf.
John was looking rather taken aback, and Harry puzzled.
"But you don't have any cases! At least stay for a bit, we can talk to Harry!" he exclaimed in exasperation.
"Nope, terribly urgent, new stuff, got to run. Laters!" tying his scarf with a flourish, Sherlock followed his brothers footsteps out of 221 B.
0ooo00ooo00
John stared at the doorway through which the two Holmes brothers had disappeared. Slowly, he turned his gaze back to the boy who was now his responsibility. Technically, he was John and Sherlock's responsibility, but no one would ever leave Sherlock in charge of a child, so John knew that he would have to be the greater authority here. He had no clue how to go about this – being a veteran war doctor did not a parent make. He was comforted by the thought that it made a better parent than a self-proclaimed consulting detective.
He could do this. Structure, accountability, and trust; all army ideals, all things that the boy could use. If his suspicions about the boys upbringing were correct, these things were long overdue in his life. They would establish a few guidelines, then play it by ear, he supposed.
Harry was looking quietly pleased, if a little nervous. He was petting the dog, Wolfgang, calmly enough, so John was reassured that he wouldn't have a hysterical teenager on his hands.
"Well," he said, sitting down in his chair, "looks like you'll be staying with us for a while! We should probably get you settled, right? Here, Sherlock has this office room that he never really uses – most of the time he sulks in the living room. We can set you up to kip in there." John looked at Harry with a smile, which the boy returned tentatively.
"You're sure this is alright?" Harry asked tentatively. "I mean, it's not going to put you out? I can go somewhere else..." he trailed off uncertainly.
"No! No, not at all. You are more than welcome here. Besides, Mycroft's decided it, hasn't he? Said something about us being substitute family or something?" John said, trying to be as encouraging as possible. Seeing Harry's reassured look, he clapped his hands together. "Right! Well, lets do all that boring 'inventory' Sherlock was mentioning. We'll get your trunk into the office, and see what we need, yeah?" John stood, and made his way over to the trunk.
"Oh, I've got it!" Harry said, flinging himself off of the couch to attach himself to a handle. "I appreciate it, Dr. John, but I can get the trunk, if you'll just show me where...?"
John looked into the boy's green eyes, and saw determination and a certain amount of stubbornness there. He was evidently very adamant about the handling of his trunk. John battled internally for a moment – Harry was injured, and should not be doing heavy lifting, however, he had dragged the trunk with him all the way from Surrey. He decided that the battle over carrying the ungainly luggage wasn't worth the short distance to the office, and nodded briskly before leading his young charge to the next room.
It was very cluttered, but not in a lived-in way. It was full of Sherlock's forgotten experiments and case files, as well as multiple references Sherlock had deemed outdated in favour of the internet. John approached a cabinet and pulled out a drawer, seeing the junk stored in there.
"We'll need to clear the room out, of course, but this should do nicely. We'll get a bed in here, some shelves... Sorry about the mess – Sherlock is, well, Sherlock." John said apologetically to Harry.
Harry was looking about with shining eyes. "It's alright, it's brilliant!" He said. "I don't mind the clutter."
John laughed and went to fetch a garbage bag. "Well I do, so we'll just need to clear this stuff out. Sherlock can sort it later, we'll dump the bag in his room."
Harry looked uncertain. "Are you sure? He won't be mad will he? And you don't need to help – I can manage just fine!"
John gave Harry a considering look. He'd have to be handled carefully, but the boy was most anxious to please, and didn't seem lazy. If anything, he'd have to stop Sherlock from taking advantage of Harry's helpfulness. He put on a disarming smile and simply said, "It's alright, it'll go quickly with two, instead of just you. And you really shouldn't be overexerting yourself, Harry."
Harry blushed, and they got to shoving the mess into bags. Wolfgang surveyed the room, sniffing interestedly at some abandoned projects before splaying himself out in front of the trunk. Like John said, the work went quickly, and soon enough the room was cleared of all but the books and things that John had classified as 'not-completely-useless'.
"Well, then Harry. If you want to get some clothes and stuff unpacked, you can get dressed and we can go see about lunch," John said, looking in approval at the room.
Harry shuffled uncomfortably. "Uh, Dr. John," he started "Mr. Sherlock said that my clothes – that they weren't suitable. I don't have anything but – but stuff like that." He looked down, his cheeks flaming. He actually looked quite adorable, John thought, dressed in the too-big sweater with his messy hair and oversized glasses. It made him look younger than he really was, and John smiled in an indulgent if slightly tired manner.
"Well, we'll just pick some up when we go out, yeah? Nothing to worry about." John said easily. Now that he looked, Harry was wearing some of his old clothes. Sherlock had probably raided his closet. John couldn't find it in him to be annoyed – it made a kind of Sherlock sense, if he thought about it. Harry was small, and John was shorter than Sherlock. Therefor, it would make more sense for Harry to wear John's clothes if his own were unsuitable. Little details like asking permission were deemed by Sherlock to be inconsequential and dull, and John had grown accustomed to just adapting. He looked again at Harry, who was now looking quite uncomfortable.
"Um, Dr. John," Harry said, "I don't have any of my money right now, and I don't know when I can get to my bank, so -" he was cut off by John.
"No worries, Harry, Mycroft has made you our ward – we're supposed to provide for you." When Harry looked about to protest, John quickly said, "if it's any consolation, he'll probably arrange for government compensation, or sort something out with your parents' estate. That's probably what happened with your... relatives." Here Harry blinked in confusion.
"They never got anything for me – I was a burden, I was an expense in food and they could barely put clothes on my back." He said this quickly, in a dull tone that said he had been told it many times. John was angry, and he heard the dog growling in the background.
"Harry, you are anything but a burden," John said. "You are a young man in need of proper guardianship, and said guardians are responsible for providing for you. I'll hear no more of it!" He said with a decisive nod.
Harry still looked unsure, but he nodded as well, and they left the room. John put on a coat and Harry toed on his scuffy trainers, and they made their way to the door. John eyed Wolfgang uncertainly. Harry caught the stare, and asked,
"Oh, can Wolfgang come with us? Please? I'm sure he'll behave!"
Damn his eyes. John felt as though he were in a Disney movie. It was a combination of kicked-puppy and baby-deer and inquiring kitten that totally overwhelmed him. He sighed regretfully.
"Harry, a lot of the places we'll be going won't let dogs in, and we'll be out for a while. We'll leave Wolfgang some water, and we'll get him a proper collar and lead so we can take him out next time, is that alright?"
Harry's face screwed up in a slight pout, before clearing. He looked almost afraid as he petted Wolfgang for reassurance.
"You'll be alright here, Wolf?" He asked the dog. Wolfgang licked his hand, then nudged the boy towards John before turning and jumping up onto the couch. He made himself quite comfortable, the bugger, and John only hoped that he was trained enough not to tear the place apart as soon as they left.
Harry and John left 221 B and made their way out into the street. If Harry seemed to latch onto John, John didn't mention it, and neither did Harry. John decided that they'd grab a quick sandwich at Speedy's just downstairs from them before doing the serious shopping. Harry picked out a nondescript turkey bap while John selected a more robust roast beef sandwich. Thus fortified, they caught a cab out to a shopping district.
The shopping was amusing, agonizing, and overall tiring, but the two returned to Baker Street with a large selection of clothing, some toiletries, bedding, and a nice leather collar and lead for Wolfgang. John had even had Harry select a few books to read, as he and Sherlock really had nothing to interest a child in their flat. John could hardly whip out his gun to show Harry, and Sherlock had best not show him any of his disgusting experiments.
Harry and John made their way up the steps, both flushed with exertion and happiness and entered the flat, where they met with a most alarming sight that had the boy and the doctor exclaiming in shock.
000ooooo0000oooo
Sirius was pleased. Harry was being well-taken care of, and Dr. Watson seemed like a lovely man. He wasn't too sure about that crazy flatmate of his, or the brother, but Sirius was more than fine with the good doctor. And it had nothing to do with his charming mannerisms, or kind face, or how he dealt with Harry... he mentally shook himself. He knew for certain it wasn't those awful jumpers he seemed to insist on wearing! He seemed to have foisted off one onto Harry as well. Sirius swore, as soon as his name was cleared, he was going to dress Harry properly. The pair had gone out clothes shopping, and Merlin only knew what they would come back with.
But now it seemed as though he would have a few hours to himself, and what he really wanted to do was get cleaned up. There's only so much a bath as a dog can do for a person. He trotted into the loo and made sure the door was partially closed before transforming.
Staring intently at his reflection, he saw that the bath had gotten rid of the dirt and grime from his skin. However, his hair was still long and unkept, and would have to remain that way until he had a reliable method to get rid of it. He wouldn't put it past that Sherlock fellow to notice a stray hair and immediately deduce that it belonged to Sirius Black, wanted mass murdered. He had no clue how those muggles did it... he had never seen such deductive power, even from Dumbledore!
Sirius sighed and spread some toothpaste onto his finger, and began washing his teeth. He took care of certain necessities, before changing back to a dog and making his way to Harry's room. He eyed the trunk and changed back into a man. He had protected it earlier because there was sure to be magical items in it, and it would be difficult for Harry to explain that to muggles. The umbrella man, Mycroft, had said that Sherlock and John would fall under family laws, so they would probably find out about magic eventually. Perhaps it was silly of him, but as Harry's rightful guardian, Sirius wanted to find out about his godson first.
He opened the trunk and was met with the unorganized clutter of a teenager. The clothes weren't folded – they mixed with robes and books indiscriminately. He thought he saw a glimpse of a silvery invisibility cloak, and smiled as he remembered the Marauder's adventures at Hogwarts. He also saw a broom, lovingly cared for and of good quality. He was so glad to know that James' son loved flying as much as James. He couldn't wait to see a game, and wondered what position Harry played. Judging by how small he was, probably Seeker, Sirius thought with glee.
As he was reminiscing about Quidditch games and Gryffindor escapades, his eye was caught by a book-like object that was most certainly not a textbook. He pulled it out and opened the page, and was met with the smiling faces of Lily and James. Tears rushed to his eyes as he stroked the picture reverently. There they were, his best mate, and the most amazing woman he had ever known. Both dead, thanks to his stupidity and that traitor. He sniffed, and lost himself in the pictures. There were Lily and James when they first started dating. Lily with her friends by the lake. Lily and James at their wedding. Sirius closed the trunk and sat on it, mesmerized by the happy faces. There he was, so young, so care-free, the ravages of Azkaban alien to his face. He smiled regretfully, and was so caught up in memories, he almost missed the quiet snap of the flat door. His mind went numb for the few crucial moments it took for someone to cross to the room, and he barely managed to change back into Padfoot before the door had opened and he was staring guiltily at the suspicious form of Sherlock Holmes.
00oooo0000ooo000
Sherlock returned to Baker Street with a self-satisfied spring to his step. He had successfully chased down the pedophile that had accosted Harry, and had dropped him off for Lestrade to deal with, and was looking forward to chasing down Harry's relatives tomorrow. Now, though, he wanted to return home and think out the mystery that was the Potter boy.
He entered 221 B and immediately observed that John and Harry were out, but the dog was still here. Ah, and they had cleared out his office, judging by the garbage bags peeking out of his bedroom. He pouted slightly for a moment, moving towards the office to see what could be salvaged. As he opened the door, he met the pale, startled eyes of Wolfgang, who was crouched awkwardly over what looked like a photo album. The dog was pressed against the trunk, so he supposed that was where the album had come from – wait! What was that? There was movement coming from the two dimensional surface of the photographs. Was it a hologram? Sherlock and Wolfgang eyed each other for a long moment before Sherlock lunged for the album. Wolfgang yelped and snapped his teeth protectively over the book, and Sherlock took advantage of the sudden movement to approach the trunk. Wolfgang seemed torn between the trunk and the album, but evidently decided that the trunk was more in need of protection, and moved to scare Sherlock off of it. When the dog had committed itself, Sherlock quickly rolled and scooped up the album, making a dash for the living room. He made it out the door when Wolfgang latched onto his trouser leg, worrying at the fabric. Sherlock dragged the dog with him, frantically attempting to open the album, to verify what he had seen, and when the pages fell open he was extremely shocked, so much so that he halted in place.
Wolfgang, sensing weakness, tackled the detective, and dog and man sprawled on the floor with the photo album open for the world to see. Sherlock was at a loss for words, and Wolfgang was whining and growling when the door opened and they saw Harry and John's shocked faces.
So! What do you think? Magic is about to be outed and Sherlock will be absolutely insane until he figures it out! Please review and tell me how you think this is going, any suggestions or constructive criticism is welcome!
I'll try not to leave you hanging for so long, but I have some other crossovers I'm working on as well, so hang in there :)