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: Well, let's see how a properly recovered Sirius handles Sherlock in 'Dad' mode. Also, kurogami mika, your review made me giggle. Thank you.
Very few people can stand to stare at dad for long and not fail in the attempt; da & Uncle Greg were some of the only people whom I know that could do this. But there this Sirius was, his gray eyes trained onto my dad's; a very determined look on his face. I suddenly felt very protective of dad, knowing he would have some difficulty defending himself from the wizard in front of him, even if Uncle Mycroft did say Sirius would behave. Something tells me that Nan staying behind in the office may not have been the smartest thing; sometimes, she was the only one capable of calming dad down.
'The way he was yelling when we came in leaves something to be desired, though.' I know I need to defuse before someone ended up with multiple black eyes.
"Are we going to talk or are we just going to just see whom cannot blink the longest?" I ask, effectively bringing their off eyes of each other. 'Like weeping angels?'
"Yes, we have much to discuss gentleman." Uncle Mycroft was in my official favorite mode, 'The British Government' as I call it; he does not know I call it that, Uncle Mycroft isn't too fond of dad's nickname.
Da still has a grip on my hand as we move to sit down with my uncle at his desk, Sirius sitting in one of the chairs, his back to my uncle, as my dads pull me to sit in between them on the lounge, dad's hand resting protectively on my shoulders. Sirius is still glaring at him & I know he doesn't quite believe me about them not harming me. Which is highly irritating; after the Dursleys and Hogwarts, I do not linger around those who have hurt me, let alone cuddle into them.
"Stop it." I swear, sometimes I can thoroughly channel dad's tone of voice at times. Like now; with my whole being stiff as I glare at the wizard. He's not winning any points with me, of that I am certain. Sirius watches me with a wary expression, & I think he is starting to understand that no, I am not his best friend's daughter anymore and have never been like him or my mother. 'Why is this so hard for people to realize? Hard to be like someone when you can't even remember them.' I can feel dad's fingers twitching as da simply shifts, pulling my hand closer to his side. I can tell he just wants to shove me out of the room for this conversation as he had no idea who the man was and that just didn't sit right with my solider father. Instead, he seems to settle for knowing that there are two men and a coffee table in the way of Sirius & I. Not to mention Uncle Mycroft and that trusty umbrella of his.
Uncle Mycroft sighs before speaking. "Sherlock, Dr. Watson, this is Lord Sirius Black, head of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Black. He was the friend of James & Lily Potter, and also, the godfather of Stella."
Well, way to start uncle. Dad is suddenly very still next to me, prompting me to look up, finding his eyes lit up. He glances at me and I get the message. 'Over my dead body is he taking you.' Dad has always said that once he considers someone 'his', he doesn't let it go without a bleeding war. Not that I would go willingly away from home; Moriarty tried this and failed. While dad is stiff, da moves to his feet, placing himself in front of me; that's when I see his handgun outlined under his jacket. 'They were prepared for the worst!' Dad doesn't take the weapon out of the safe unless the case could turn for the worse. Just knowing that he would do this for me almost hurts; I don't want him to be put in this position.
"Da, please sit. I'm going nowhere, but he does deserve to explain himself." My voice is soft as I pull him back to sit.
Sirius looked almost grateful before taking a breath and began, retelling what Mycroft had told me earlier, only with more detail. He hadn't been well when he escaped Azkaban, the wizarding prison, and had been in and out of healing clinic after being proven innocent, trying to rebuild his health after twelve years surrounded by Dementors. These creatures are ones I am glad I only ever read about in my defense books; beings that feed on the very happiness of a person, reducing them to shells of their former selves. Apparently, he was also an Animagus as well, illegal too, and this helped shield him from the worst effects; although he still seemed to be effected somewhat psychologically. After getting his hands on Pettigrew, he was able to get into the Ministry and to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, all without being detected or revealing himself; just goes to show just how pathetic the security was when an escaped convict can find his way into the one place he shouldn't have been able to. Then, it seemed to unravel for the rat, quickly finding himself thrown into the public as a coward and murderer. It wasn't long before Sirius was a free man & looking for me, not happy that he had no leads. Apparently, I was reported as dead by Dumbledore, actually having the gull to say I had committed suicide.
Sirius was ready to go crazy with grief until the twins found him and explained that I was alive, but they didn't explain why I left, stating it was not their place to explain what happened; they did however, push Draco forward after stating that he was the reason I got away as quickly and safely as I did. They were not able to direct him to my location, although Draco did say I originally go my ex-aunt's. Sirius explained that he finally found Private Drive and found number four in an uproar over Vernon's arrest in London. Petunia knew who he was of course and began to scream at him about how 'my freakiness ruined her name and ruined her reputation.' She then proceeded to lock herself in the house, forcing Sirius to get the story from the neighbors; again, he was not anywhere near happy to find out that Vernon has been arrested on several charges of child abuse. He tried to find me in London, but apparently, I was very well hidden. I stop myself from looking at Uncle Mycroft when Sirius stops to take a drink, realizing that the wizard had been talking for about an hour already.
Dad's eyes were trained on the wizard, the cold look replaced with his detective look, filing away the information into his mild palace. He still manages to have me pulled closer, my head resting against his shoulder; I can tell he really suspects that Sirius wants me with him, wants to take me back to Wizarding World. 'Does he know the length's I went through to not be forced back?' Dad seems to sense the thought, because his fingers are soon carding through my hair, easing the tremors that were building slightly.
"How did you find out about her, Mr. Black?" Da asks, in full Captain Mode. His blue eyes were focused on the man, but I could see the tremor in his left hand acting up.
"After the Weasley Twins explained how Malfoy JR helped you escape, I went to him for further help and after not finding you in London, I had to stop after a few weeks; I was still affected by the Dementors and needed care. I was in St. Mungo's for a few weeks, building up my strength and magic reserves. Then, I had to deal with all the legal paperwork and bullshit; but I also had Malfoy looking for you discreetly. Apparently, he knew that the minister knew where you were, even when you were supposedly dead; there was an apparent deal with a 'low level government employee' to keep you spirited away. Took a long time to get back to finding you between health relapses and the legal proceedings to get my house and vaults back & I thought that Gringotts would have to help me find you, seeing as I was listed as your guardian and godfather," He stops briefly when I shrink into dad again at those words, his gray eyes sad," but I was informed that you were under new guardianship and adopted into a family that would not allow information to be passed without approval from the two heads. Needless to say, I was upset, thinking I had lost you completely, not knowing you were truly safe from the likes of Dumbledore & Voldemort. Then Malfoy got back to me, informing me that he could contact you, but it would take a while. I took the chance and waited for word to come back; ended up being a bloody year, & then I was denied multiple times a chance for a meeting with the heads, up until a week ago. I do not appreciate being led around like a stray dog, Mr. Holmes." He directs this towards Uncle Mycroft, but I respond before scathing remarks could be formed.
"Dad wasn't here and I know Uncle Mycroft would have never done something like introducing me to you when my father was unable to be here. I also know I would have responded negatively to you and wouldn't be here at all." I don't move from my position from dad's arms, but I still lock eyes with Sirius.
"Cub, I don't understand why you left, only that it was horrific. How can you expect me to just walk away from you without any explanations?"
"Easily, as you have no legal right to my wellbeing anymore and I. Don't. Know. You." I grit out, holding back my temper.
"I remember holding you when you were a baby, when you refused to sle-"
"Sentiments do not represent any bearing here, Mr. Black. I have a life here, a home, a family I adore and a college career to decide on. I walked away from the Wizarding World almost four years ago with the intent of never returning. I was almost destroyed, not by Voldemort or his little followers, but by three fifth year trolls who decided I was an ample plaything. And then perfect Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore decided that my physical injuries and evidence from all of them and Draco was not enough and LET THEM GO! Nothing would happen to them and I would have been forced to heal and then deal with them for the rest of their school days! Not to mention I was fingered as the mastermind, never mind I was bloody TWELVE, of all the attacks happening on the muggleborns. When I needed help, when I needed someone to protect me, the ones with the means to did nothing and I had enough. I got out, left the world and I did what I could to make sure I would not be forced back: I snapped my wand and left the pieced in a gardener's shed in Surrey." I'm standing at this point, ignoring the tremors raking my body, the dads standing behind me while I stare the wizard down.
He had this horrified look on his face that reminds me of the times dad threatens Cluedo if da doesn't want to do something for a case. "Your wand, Stella are you insane?! You could have died if it had backlashed!"
"At that point, if that had happened, I would have welcomed it. But it didn't and I don't need a focus for my magic, if I even use it. I don't let myself be lazy; if I cannot do something without magic, then I am not meant to do it or I will find another way to do the task. I'm happy to be normal, or as normal as one can get with the world's only consulting detective and his blogger as my dads and two uncles who watch my every move between the two of them. Mr. Black, I do not know what you came here expecting, but if it involves taking me back to magical Britain where I can be shoved to the forefront of a war that no longer concerns me while grown adults stand back, you are sorely mistaken."
I turn on the spot and walk towards the door, anger seeping off me; that's when a hand wraps around my wrist. I jerk back, seeing the wizard at the other end; but I have forgotten for just a moment my injuries. They don't forget me and I can't ease the pain that spikes through my arm as the wounds pull open.
"Get off!" I cry out, finally pulling the arm out of his grip. I fall back against the door, tears pricking my eyes and the pain reemerges with a vengeance. "Daddy…"
Da was there in a blink, pushing up the sleeve of my arm to examine the injury. We both can see the fresh blood seeping through the bandages, but before we can do anything there is a scuffing noise that brings our eyes up; just in time to see dad clock Sirius, sending the wizard into Uncle Mycroft's desk, who looks positively pissed off. Then dad was at my side as well, my head mushed into his chest, thumbs wiping the tears away.
"It's ok poppet." I can tell he is holding back the rest of his rage that I know is just below the surface.
"I need fresh gauze and salve for this, the wound completely reopened. Mycroft, tell me you have that here." Da says all this, his hands wrapped around my bicep, trying to use the pressure to stop the blood flow.
"Yes, I'll have Athena bring the supplies in. Mr. Black, with me. Now." There was the Iceman mode I would never take for granted.
"No, wait, I never meant this! I just wanted to see my goddaughter again! She was 15 months old last time I held her! Mr. Holmes, don't do this. You are going to make me leave after I get told that she was RAPED? How can you just force me out when I need to be here for…her…" Sirius' voice was tight and desperate.
But I could tell he would fight if he thought there was any chance. That's when I figured it out: he did want me back with him, but he wanted my birth father back, even if it would be feminine version. Again, he doesn't understand that I am neither James Potter nor Lily Potter. I am Stella Astre Holmes (Watson) and I am my own bloody person, thank you very much. I muster enough control of the pain to stand, with dad's assistance and lock the man's gaze.
"Leave now, Mr. Black. I have no place in your world anymore and the simple fact that is you base desire shows any talks here will go nowhere. I will not leave London, I will not be some scapegoat for the Ministry, & I will not be some precious tool for Dumbledore. I do not care that you aren't here for them, but you are not here for me. I am a few months from my seventeenth birthday, Mr. Black and any legal papers from you would be voided. So, to prevent any further injuries, leave me alone."
He looked ready to respond but stops himself and nods, following Uncle Mycroft out of the study, leaving me with my dads. "Can we go home?" My voice is quiet, but in the silent office, it carries.
"After we get the dressings done, sweetheart. Then we'll get you home for a cuppa and then a lie down." Da's voice left no room for discussion, so I nod & allow dad to take me back to the lounge.
Athena come back in after a few moments with the supplies and hands them to da; who then quickly cuts off the old dressings, cleaning the wound up & applies the salve before the fresh gauze. Then I'm bustled out of the study, taking the jacket and scarf from Athena and bidding her farewell. I don the items as we leave, dad hailing a cab as we exit the building. The trip was quick and soon I was curled up on the couch, a cuppa of chamomile half drained in my hands. Da was beside me, his fingers mirroring dad's from earlier while said father was pacing the living room, ranting in Sherlock speak. Normally, one would never be able to sleep with the racket dad was creating, but my eyes droop close as da pulls the cup out of my hands. The last thing I remember before I fall asleep is the gentle kiss in the middle of my hair & da's arm wrapped tight around my shoulders.
I have never seen London in spring before this, but it was beautiful; the trees were all budding and the flowering trees were blooming, along with all the flowers. Sherlock made no comment as I gazed around me, eyes wide as I took the sights in. Hogwarts was surrounded by evergreen pine trees, leaving us with just the Whomping Willow, but no one went near the psycho tree anyway. I never got to see the fall/spring process and the ones in Surrey were all the same trees going to sleep; same leaves every year. But London was amazing!
"It's so pretty!" I whisper, looking up at the man, whose hand I held tightly.
"Wait until you see the cherry blossom trees in Hyde Park. The cultural board added a section last spring, so they will be old enough to flower." John responds, his hand tight in my other one.
We had taken a taxi out of 221 B, but I guess at some point Sherlock had seen me watching all the foliage fly by with some sadness because he had the auto stop, confusing me and John, before pulling me out, fingers wrapped around my wrist gently. "Sherlock, what-"John's voice stopped, but I was busy admiring the closest flowering tree with bright pink blooms to pay attention. I don't see Sherlock whispering to his blogger nor do I see the sudden understanding take over John's face. I do notice when Sherlock's fingers lace with mine and he starts walking, explaining each tree that I stare at for more than three seconds.
This was one of my first real outings since coming to live in 221 B Baker Street and so far it was lovely. Every other trip had been to Dr. McNamera's, the dietician Mr. Deedra, or Mycroft's townhouse. But Sherlock and John needed to go to Scotland Yard to discuss past case details with Detective Lestrade, or Greg as he insisted I call him. He was another one of those people I just felt safe around, like the Holmes' and John; it wasn't hard to feel safe around them when the rest of the world seemed to clear paths for them. Sherlock thought that it would essential I experience a new environment, hence my presence now.
After the fifteen minute walk, we arrive at Scotland yard, the sleek silver building standing out among the brick buildings around it. As we walk into the building, Sherlock drops my hand but before I could react, his hand is resting on my upper back, guiding me up the steps. When we reach the fourth floor, we walk through a set of misted glass, the words Homicide etched in black standing out. John pushes the door open, leading our little group in. The sudden onset of work place sounds startles me for a second, but Sherlock's warm hand on my back calms me down instantly. There were several people milling around a few adjuring desks, multiple conversations floating about. But, I find my mind focused on a duo ten feet from us: one a tall, lanky man with a nose similar to Snape's and dark skinned woman who had a pinched face look to her, like she had something sour under her nose.
"Just ignore them, Sherlock. We don't have time for them." John whispered, turning back towards us.
Sherlock simply made a small noise, but he kept his eyes on the pair, drawing my eyes back to them. I had this feeling they weren't very nice, if the nasty looks on their faces were anything to go by. Sherlock's hand was tense, betraying his feelings, at least to me. That settled it then: they must be stupid and horrid, if Sherlock was already reacting like this. As we drew closer, the woman stood up from where she had been leaning on the desk.
"Well, freak, what do you want now?" The woman all but spat the words our way.
I can't stop the massive flinch that appears at her word, my movement freezing. Why does that word always follow me? I hate that word so much; Vernon used it for a name until I started attending primary and then used it to insult and torment me. But…but she's not looking at me, she's glaring at Sherlock, who was ignoring her, his slate/blue eyes lit up. His hand is rubbing circles on my back, his torso bent over, and his voice murmuring into my ear. Oh yes right, he knows everything about my uncle and his abuse. He knows my trigger words after a lengthy discussion after the nightmare last week. But, John knows as well, this reminder bringing my eyes up to watch him, seeing him rigged.
"Oi, psycho, who let you near a kid? Freak, we're-"The woman was interrupted by John.
"Enough, Donovan. She is of no concern to you. Stella, you alright?"
I nod, but curl into Sherlock's side when he straightens up. We walk past the pair of inspectors, but a cold hand gipping my bicep harshly pulls me back, bringing the lanky man's beady brown eyes into mine. He has foul smell to him and when I try to pull back, he just hold his ground. "Got yourself a little freak, Freak? Although Sally is right, who let you near a kid?" He seems to be ignoring my attempt to pull my arm away, but a welcomed voice sounds behind us.
"Anderson! What the bloody hell do you think you are doing, manhandling a child?!" D.I. Lestrade was glaring at the lanky man, whose grip loosened, allowing me to pull back.
Sherlock had me behind him in an instant into John's arms before marching up to this Anderson. He grips his collar and pulled his face close, Sherlock's voice coming out in a hissed whisper, although we could hear him still. "Touch her again, Anderson, and I will end you. Filth like you do. Not. Touch. Her."
Let no one say Sherlock wasn't caring for those who mattered; the past few months, he's fallen into his version of a father with John there to guide when needed. I wouldn't have him any other way; he was teaching me more deduction techniques and lets me help with the easier, nonviolent cases that come in. He's teaching me Chemistry, although I am still having a hard time understanding it, in the lab that had been moved from the kitchen to the downstairs flat, & he's been helping me build up my own mind palace to organize my mind. He figured out that the reason I always have a hard time concentrating is that I can't stop my mind from multitasking; in other words, I think too much and keep getting side tracked. Once my mind started gaining order, I found it much easier. He never got upset when I woke up in the middle of the night screaming from a nightmare, only held me until I fell back asleep or brought me down to the living room to distract me; usually it involved a telly program or his playing his violin.
Greg was able to get Sherlock to drop Anderson and direct him towards his office, which is where John had led me seconds before. The detective is still angry, but his touch is gentle as he again pulls me to his side, fingers buried in my hair. John is stiffly arguing with Greg about how Anderson deserves some form of punishment, to which Greg agreed.
"I will personally deal with him, John. He knows better than to touch another person, let alone a minor. Stella, you feeling better?" Greg had moved across the room, kneeling down in front of me.
I give a shaky nod in response, sitting down in the chair he then offers. Sherlock steers the conversation to why we originally came here. They are clearing up the details of a murder scene from two weeks ago, something about a jealous babysitter and the wife of a wealthy publisher. While he was talking, Sherlock began carding his fingers through my hair again, prompting me to rest my head on his hip, watching them go over the case with a fine tooth comb, Sherlock explaining to the them what they missed. An hour later, we left the building with no incident, although I did hear Anderson being summoned by Greg as we left the department. Sherlock's mobile goes off as we reach the sidewalk, the device soon next to his ear. He talks quietly to the other end while John flags down a taxi; it pulls up just as Sherlock closes the device.
"Seems we are needed in London Central Bank; an old college classmate needs our assistance."
John gives him a look that I know is asking for more information, but he gets none as Sherlock slides into the taxi, pulling me with him. The blonde only sighs before entering, letting the taxi take off back to 221 B.
When I wake up again, it's either very late or very early morning, if the dark sky outside was anything to go by. But the lights were turned up, dad still pacing, although now confided to the area between his and da's chair. Speaking of da, he was no longer my pillow, my head buried in dad's jacket while the throw was pooled around my hips. I knew I would be in some pain, but I was not expecting the severe pain that shot through my arm and abdomen as I sat up. I couldn't hold back the cry of pain that leaves me, but do finally sit up, my feet burying themselves in the plush carpet.
'Come on, get up. Stop it.' I make it halfway up before dad's hands steady my ascent. He guides me to the kitchen, were da was busy filling the kettle. We stayed standing, myself leaning into dad; da should have been sleeping, he had surgery in the morning. I should have known better, but I was hoping for life to go back to normal; even after the past couple days. But after everything with Sirius Black, I needed to vent.
"Are we not going to talk about it?" My voice is cracking but I won't let that stop me.
The dads both stopped and watched me carefully. "How close was I to being taken tonight? That man could have brought so much down on us and it frightens me that even after all this time…" I stop when the tears start falling down my cheeks.
Dad's gentle scoff is soon followed by my chin being brought up. "How many times must I tell you Miss Holmes, that you are mine and I will not give you up. My daughter, they would have to tear the world apart to take you from here." His smile is something I adore because it is so rare to see, but there is it, directed at me.
He always knows how to make me feel better this man. Every day since he rescued me, he has been a constant stance of support, frustration, & trust. But I wouldn't want anyone else as my father; it's always been the childish wish I had the TARDIS so I could run back and make it so, but I know that everything I've been through, even the horrid events, have shaped me into the person I am today. Wiping the tears away, I hug him tight, breathing in his scent.
"So dad, about those twins, any progress?"
I know he knows what I'm doing, but he goes off anyway, leading me the nearest chair before doing his 'Sherlock Rant'. Da hands me a cuppa, kisses my forehead , & then joins in, putting his notes from the crime scene into dad's landscape. Right now, I need this: my dads doing what they do best and dad running off his thoughts a mile a minute. My mobile pings in my pocket and when I see the apology from my uncle, I can only smile. 'Another rare event.'
I'll deal with Lucille, my wounds and life tomorrow. I realize now that I can't run from the Wizarding World forever, but when I so return, it will be on my terms and I will not be alone. The day Sherlock Holmes & Dr. John Watson lets their daughter back there by herself is the day hell freezes over & Anderson does his job as he actually should.
But that is for tomorrow. I sip my tea & throw my insight into the case every now and then, watching dad jump from room to room via chair travel.
Tomorrow: Life. Tonight: Holmes/Watson family bonding.
A/N: Ok, woah, this ending just spilled out of my fingers. DO NOT think this is the end. Stella is not done. It does seem like it is ending, but I didn't want any cliffhangers this time. I'm going to start working on other parts of the plot and OH boy, Lucille better watch out. Any recommendations for her? Again, I adore all of you and the Raven is hungry for reviews.