Beta Reader: pussycatadamah
Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock and I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from the tv series and the books respectively. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A/N: This chapter was an idea/prompt by readaddict123 on 01-06-2013. The idea :Something happens (like a murder, etc) in #11 or #13 Grimmauld Place and Sherlock ends up finding out where Harry lives when he goes to talk to the neighbours to see if they saw anything, etc.
Chapter 44 – I was in the Neighbourhood
There is something to be said about going out for groceries and coming back to a crime scene being sectioned off just before your front door. London's finest were there, sirens blazing, tape cutting off the traffic and curious neighbours were all out there on the street, making the grocery carrying wizard stop short. Normally he would just make himself invisible and sidestep all the ruckus but he recognized at least two people in the crowd of uniformed officers and forensics personnel.
Sherlock was easy to spot, tall with curls and an expensive coat. He was engaged in a shouting match with a slightly shorter man in scrubs and a police jacket while DI Lestrade was hovering nearby looking like he had a migraine and its name was Sherlock.
"Hey, you! Why are you loitering here?"
The wizard stared at the woman, looking from her shoes to her curly hair and a bit of extensive application of lipstick and then back up to Sherlock and the other two men, who were now staring at them. Body and argument forgotten, Sherlock strode towards him, looking visibly curious. Lestrade was only a step behind him.
"Well, well, well, fancy seeing you in the neighbourhood," the genius said, taking in the green eyed man's attire (casual jeans and a shirt with a jacket over it, dark colouring in everything), the grocery bag and the phone in his hand. "You stay here? In this neighbourhood," Sherlock stated, looking ecstatic.
Lestrade stopped right next to Sherlock, looking at him with shock and weariness. "Is everything alright?" He eyed Sherlock. "There's no…"
"Relax Lestrade; he's not here in his official capacity. He is staying somewhere on this street," the genius said, looking around.
"Holmes!"
Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Anderson," he said the name as if it was a vile word. "What do you want? I told you that man was killed by his mistress because he was unwilling to leave the wife. I don't know why you called me in for something so boring," Sherlock accused the DI, who then rolled his eyes.
"Listen… Um, what is your name?" Greg asked the wizard.
"Marc," the green eyed man replied, enjoying the frown on Sherlock's face.
"How… unremarkable," the genius said. "Where you feeling bored today…Marc?"
"Somewhat yes," the wizard replied.
"Excellent, you don't mind having me over for tea then? I could use something warm," Sherlock said. "Where do you live? Number eleven? Thirteen? Ten? Fourteen?"
Marc grinned. "Actually, it's Grimmauld Place Number Twelve, I own the building," he replied and the four people in front of him frowned.
"Twelve?" Lestrade asked, turning around. "Huh."
Grimmauld Place Number Twelve sat between numbers eleven and thirteen like it had been there all along. Lestrade frowned but let it go, stirring a disgruntled Anderson back towards the body. The female officer shot Sherlock a look and walked away. As for the young genius, he was eyeing the building with suspicion. He then looked to the wizard.
"That was not there before," he said carefully, eyes pinned on Marc with suspicion and a hunger. He had just been presented with his newest and most interesting puzzle and knowing Sherlock, he was not going to let this go.
"How about that tea then?" Sherlock said and led the way to number Twelve.
