The first thing Harry noticed when he walked down to the kitchen from the room he'd woken up in was the large amount of chemistry equipment. The dusty glass vials and flasks shined in the sunlight. Dust filtered through the musty-looking curtains.

Sherlock and John were eating quickly but politely without so much as taking a break to talk or even breathe. It seemed to Harry like they weren't so much enjoying their food and just trying to get the deed over with. He thought that was rather queer as the food itself looked delicious. He sat himself down at the table and served himself some a small portion of eggs and toast.

"You're allowed to eat more than that, you know," Sherlock said, setting down his fork and knife. Harry blushed a little and nodded, taking a bit more than he was used to.

"So Harry, how did you sleep?" John asked, sipping his tea.

"Good, I suppose. I honestly thought last night was all a dream until you came into the room," Harry said, pointing to Sherlock. He nodded.

"Yes, trauma does tend to do that sometimes. Not to worry though, your relatives' court case is almost one hundred percent going to end with jail-time," Sherlock said. Harry didn't know how to feel on this.

On one hand, he knew Vernon, and to a lesser extent Petunia, deserved prison for their harsh treatment of him and if Harry never saw them again, it'd be too soon. They hated him and he hated them back. However, he knew what it was like to not be with your actual family and no matter how much he disliked Dudley; he didn't want anyone to go through that.

"Obviously by your expression, you're conflicted. Understandable but, don't let that affect your testimony," Sherlock said harshly. John swatted his arm.

"Sherlock! I'm sorry for him, he tends to be a bit blunt. I know it's hard to see that happen to family but you should think about yourself, too," John said kindly, squeezing Harry's shoulder.

"Yeah. Thanks," Harry replied, staring at Sherlock who looked at him with curiosity.

"All done? Let's head to the station. Come on, Harry," John said, standing up stiffly. Harry noticed.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Oh yeah, I just have a few problems with my body. I used to be a soldier, after all," John explained.

The car ride felt just like the one the previous night with Lestrade: tense and long. Harry shifted uncomfortably in the cab. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, looked out his window, and tried to make small talk with Sherlock, who ignored him.

Harry wasn't the only one mentally preoccupied. Sherlock was going through the case over and over again. As much as he cherished being able to put away Vernon Dursley, he still had a larger case. Moriarty wasn't finished with him yet. Sure, he had been able to solve all of the little games Moriarty had provided him but there was something off. If he acted as Sherlock thought, he wouldn't just play this little game and then disappear again. Something was going to happen, but Sherlock would just have to wait and see what it is.

Finally, they arrived at the police station. Lestrade was outside, smoking a cigarette. He looked very tired and gripped onto the fag like it was the only thing keeping him from passing out.

"Long night for Lestrade. After he arrested your uncle, he went after your aunt and cousin as well. What a little hound dog he is," Sherlock whispered to Harry how laughed a little.

"Sherlock, John," Lestrade greeted, dropping the cigarette to the ground and smearing it with his shoe. Sherlock sniffed and scowled.

"Low tar, dull," He muttered to himself. Harry looked questioningly at the mashed cigarette. John looked hardly fazed at the small deduction. The four of them headed into the station. Officers rushed around, either hauling criminals to jail cells or bringing paperwork to various offices and people. People kept out of the way, however, when they moved through the building with Lestrade in the lead.

Finally, they arrived at Lestrade's office. It was bright with big windows facing the street. It's simplistic design held a long wooden desk with a nameplate facing them that read "Detective Inspector Lestrade". Two leather armchairs faced the desk for visitors. John and Harry took a seat while Sherlock neatly tucked himself in the right corner to observe.

"I suppose we'll get right to it then," Lestrade said, pulling out a notebook and a pen, "What's your name?"

"Harry Potter," Harry replied.

"Can you describe your aunt and uncle's treatment of you?"

"They would usually ignore me unless I made them angry one way or another. If I got better grades than Dudley or if I got positive attention from anyone they'd find a way to stamp it out. They'd let Dudley and his friends beat me up if they could catch me and sometimes they wouldn't let me eat," Harry stated without almost any emotion. He seemed prepared for this as if expecting it for a long time. This told Sherlock the abuse has been going on for quite awhile. John took notice too while Lestrade scribbled furiously on the notepad.

"Can you tell me a few times when they'd done these things?" Lestrade asked.

"Well, when I was seven, Aunt Petunia had tried to cut off all of my hair except for my bangs to cover my scar. I looked really silly and I felt so embarrassed that night but when I woke up in the morning, my hair was back. I was put in the cupboard for a week with only a little bit of food," Harry said, absentmindedly feeling his hair as if he wanted to make sure it was still there. The three adults were surprised. Sherlock seemed a little more collected than the other two but was nonetheless curious.

"Skipping the strangeness of re-growing your hair in one night, that's definitely something that'll help with the court case," Lestrade stated awkwardly. John nodded and all Sherlock think about was how in the hell Harry would've been able to regrow his hair in a day.

The rest of the morning was more of the same. Lestrade would ask Harry questions and Harry would reply with something strange that happened whenever he felt a strong emotion and then get punished for it.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say Harry was magical or something," John said to Sherlock later that day. Harry hadn't left with them since the social worker had come to get Harry started in the adoption program. John and Sherlock sat at Baker Street still wondering about the strange boy they had met.

"I think we should try to adopt," Sherlock said abruptly, surprising John.

"Adoption? Never really thought of it before. Why the sudden urge to get a kid?" John asked.

"Not just any child, Watson! Harry! He's such an interesting case-I mean, boy! He wasn't lying or even exaggerating the stories he told, either,"

"I guess. But why adopt him?"

"I'm bored. Moriarty has been silent and there is no criminal activity to investigate," Sherlock said tiredly. He glared out the window as if the moderately nice day was a curse.

"I suppose he'll keep you from your bad habits and it might do me some good to have someone help handle the weight of your ego," snorted John. Sherlock barely paid attention to him. His mind was set. Harry Potter would become the next Holmes.

Seven months later: July 21st

"I must say, brother mine, you really have done the one thing I never expected; raising a child. How is it by the way? I imagine a lot of work," Mycroft Holmes said, puffing on a cigarette. Sherlock shrugged.

"I have finally figured out a way end boredom when the fit hits me," Sherlock replied.

"Ah, so very well then. And how is John? I would think he'd be happy to raise a child," Mycroft asked.

"He enjoys the emotional companionship that I refuse to give," Sherlock said. Mycroft chuckled, "I suppose a thank you is in order."

"Oh?"

"Don't act surprised, Mycroft. I knew you pulled some strings in order to help us adopt Harry," Sherlock said.

"Yes, I admit I may have pulled a few strings-"

"Why?"

"Because I care for you greatly," Mycroft said, totally serious. Sherlock snorted and walked back into Baker Street to avoid the smell of tobacco. It was driving him mad with want.

Harry was happily eating breakfast when Sherlock entered the kitchen and sat down across from him. This was per usual in the mornings. Sherlock would study Harry with intensity and Harry would stare back. Sherlock had noticed some potential in observation but he was still too naïve to read the signs.

All the while, Moriarty was silent. This troubled Holmes deeply. Every day, Sherlock's attention was either pointed towards Moriarty or towards Harry. Seven months had gone by and Sherlock was still fascinated by the boy. Occasionally, when Harry felt a strong emotion, mostly happiness, very peculiar things would happen.

After a month of settling in at Baker Street, Harry met Mrs. Hudson, who was the kindest person he'd ever met. At the end of the visit, Harry gave her a hug and suddenly, she felt her hip pop back into place like it was brand new. She was so shocked that she couldn't say anything. Of course, Sherlock couldn't prove anything but guessed it was linked directly to Harry's emotions.

Sherlock had definitely grown attached to the boy. In Mycroft's words, he got a new, flashy goldfish. Of course, Harry was so much more to both Sherlock and John than just a project. Sherlock saw him as a protégé of sorts and John saw him as the son he would never have.

Harry adjusted rather easily to Sherlock's eccentric mannerisms and John's caring nature. He seemed to bring the best out of both of them and in turn; they caused Harry to feel reinvigorated with life. It was sad at first, seeing such a downtrodden, unhappy lad but, with the two working to actually keep Harry, he felt an instant connection. Mrs. Hudson felt sorry for Harry and volunteered another room for next to nothing for Harry's use.

Harry's life seemed very mellow and sometimes odd on occasions. However, Sherlock and John saw another side to him that had been previously hidden from them. This veil was removed when he testified against Petunia and Vernon Dursley. Even the judge was surprised at the cool and calculating nature of the boy.

"What is your full name, young man?" The prosecutor asked.

"Harry James Potter," Harry replied without much emotion.

"Can you tell the jury what has been happening to you over the past nine years?"

"Of course. These two have been abusing me, obviously. If you'll look at the evidence we provided, you'll see very clearly these two are not fit to raise me. They allowed their son, Dudley, to endlessly beat me when they weren't doing it themselves. Not to mention the fact that they put a mattress inside their cupboard and said I should be grateful for that. They also starved me. I think the longest I went without a meal was about six days," He stated coldly. Both Petunia and Vernon went completely pale and their defense attorney looked uncertain like he shouldn't be defending these two.

'Not a very good defense, bad news for them,' Harry thought happily. The case was very quick as the only things Vernon and Petunia managed to get across was that they thought their nephew was a freak and they were completely justified. Harry was surprised how easy they went down considering. He guessed their hate for him was greater than their own sense of self-preservation. The jury was immediately able to come to a verdict: guilty on all accounts.

After the trial, the three joined Lestrade and a few others in celebrations back at Baker Street. Some would question the morality of celebrating putting people in prison but none of the participants could care in the least about the two monsters they'd put behind bars.

"Congratulations are in order Lestrade. You didn't even ask for my help in gathering evidence," Sherlock said, shaking Greg's hand. He smirked.

"You were the one who picked up on it, not to mention 'stone cold' Harry here who surprised everyone! Seriously, lad where did that come from?" Lestrade laughed. Harry shrugged.

"I'm not too sure myself. I just knew the facts and made sure nothing was exaggerated," Harry said, abashed at the attention.

"Blimey, six days without food? Those piss-pots deserve everything that's coming to them," Lestrade growled. Sherlock nodded.

"Well then, excellent work everyone! This isn't just a celebration for putting those animals away, but also to finally welcome Harry into our strange little family!" John said, raising his glass. Everyone cheered and raised their glasses as well. Harry blushed a bright red and raised his glass back to them.