The sun was shining. Birds tweeted outside King's Cross Station and London's morning foot traffic was bustling. It was an average Sunday. Of course, walking with Sherlock Holmes, John Watson and Harry Potter, it was more than just an average Sunday.

Harry Potter rolled his trolley through the station happily. On it was a trunk and on top of it a snowy owl who reflected her young owner's attitude, hooting with excitement.

Sherlock strode behind his protégé with pride and excitement, though one without a personal connection with him wouldn't be able to deduce this as a dour expression was painted across his complexion. His eyes constantly flicked about, collecting as much data as he could

John Watson, as per usual, acted as Mr. Holmes' foil. He had a small grin on his face. His posture was one of how a soldier would walk when on patrol. His back straight and his arms swinging back and forth like a metronome. He looked at his adopted son with pride.

Finally they stopped at a barrier closer to platform ten than nine. It had taken a few minutes, but Sherlock noticed people in robes walking through the apparently solid barrier.

"Clever," he muttered.

And so, after a cautious stroll through barrier 9 ¾, Sherlock, John and Harry were greeted by a scarlet steam engine. A bronze plaque on the front of the train read, Hogwarts Express. Harry grinned.

"Wow," John said breathlessly.

They took about ten steps into the platform before they heard a loud gasp. They turned around to see a girl Harry's age with bushy brown hair, large front teeth and deep brown eyes.

"You're Sherlock Holmes!" the girl announced. A few bystanders looked at Sherlock oddly before moving on.

"Erm… yes I am. Hello," Sherlock said, extending his hand. Hermione shook it fervently.

"My name's Hermione Granger, it is a pleasure to meet you," she said formally, regaining her composure. Her parents looked a little curious but otherwise friendly.

"I'm Dan Granger and this is my wife, Emma," Hermione's father said, shaking John and Sherlock's hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both. It looks like you have a fan, Sherlock," John chuckled.

"I've read all your blog posts and I've visited The Science of Deduction more times than I can recall!" Hermione gushed. She then turned to Harry.

"And you must be Harry Potter! I've read all about you but until recently I had no idea you were so famous in the wizarding world!"

"It's nice to meet you, Hermione," Harry said, feeling a little off put. Sherlock had a similar look on his face.

"Erm… yes it is nice to meet you Ms. Granger," Sherlock said, finally recomposing himself. John looked as if he were trying to keep from combusting.

"Come on, Harry. Let's find a compartment," Hermione said, grabbing Harry's hand and pulling him along, leaving the Grangers, John and Sherlock to stare at the two.

"So do you do deductions like Sherlock?" Hermione asked when they found a compartment and had put away their trunks.

"Yes but—"

"Ooh! Can you do a deduction on me?" Hermione asked. Harry sighed.

"Yes, but I'm not nearly as fast as him, yet. Still a bit new at it so just be patient," Harry replied. Hermione nodded eagerly and leaned forward.

Harry looked her over critically. His eyes flickered up and down, back and forth and so on for at least five minutes. Hermione had begun to feel uncomfortable when Harry snapped his fingers.

"Your fingers appear delicate and gentle, showing you don't typically do outside work or sports. You also have a very slight indent on your right ring finger, where you've been holding a pencil. You're not athletic, by choice, as your breathing pattern appears normal which cancels out lack of physical activity due to problems like asthma. Clearly you are acclimatized to staying inside. However, you have slight bags under your eyes, signifying low adrenal energy, meaning that you are burning energy but not outside. I noticed you had a lot of books, not just our textbooks, in your bookbag, so I can tell you like books and reading. So, in conclusion, you appear to be more of an introvert than an extrovert, probably meaning you don't have too many close friends. You spend most of your time inside either doing what is likely schoolwork or reading. You even do this late at night, signifying lack of sleep and low energy," Harry concluded. There was a moment of silence, then Hermione blushed a little and nodded slightly.

"Completely right, Harry," she whispered in both embarrassment and awe. Harry grinned.

"Sherlock Holmes, eat your heart out," Harry murmured.

"What do you mean?"

"Sherlock, according to John, always gets one thing wrong but everything else perfectly right. I just beat him," Harry said with a smirk.

"Is it a competition between you two?" she asked.

"With Sherlock Holmes, everything is a competition," Harry answered.

Suddenly, a chubby boy with a round face and nervous complexion appeared at the door. His hands shook and he wiped his forehead.

"You appear concerned. School stress possibly? But no, too nervous for that so something else," Harry said. Neville nodded.

"I'm just looking for my toad. It's gone missing," Neville explained strenuously. Harry grinned.

"Another case! Let's get started," he said, walking out of the compartment. He popped his head back in, looking at Hermione who was peeking at him from over her book.

"You're welcome to come along," he chimed.

"I am?"

"Of course. John helps Sherlock all the time, and so you will help me," Harry replied, gesturing for her to follow him. She chuckled and followed the eccentric boy.

For the next thirty minutes, Hermione and Neville followed Harry up and down the train as Harry regaled them a few stories that hadn't made John's blog. Neville looked downright horrified as Harry described Sherlock's character. Hermione continued to be intrigued by the detective and the Boy-Who-Lived.

"And then Sherlock decided it was a good idea to try to use a coconut to—"

"Oh, hello," Draco Malfoy said, popping his head out of the compartment, "You were the boy at the robe shop. I didn't catch your name."

"Harry Potter," Harry replied, "So as I was saying, the coconut—"

"What?! Are you really?" Draco exclaimed, grabbing Harry's arm. Harry huffed in frustration at being interrupted again.

"Yes, I really am. I'm the son of Sherlock Holmes, I'd better at least know my bloody name!" Harry said, exasperated.

"Who's Sherlock Holmes?" Draco asked. This led to Harry once more explaining to a pureblood child the idea of a consulting detective. Draco looked almost as intrigued as Hermione and horrified as Neville.

"How do you survive?" Draco asked, mostly about living with muggles but also partially Sherlock in particular.

"I ask myself the same question sometimes," Harry answered mysteriously.

"You absolutely must tell me more! At first I thought muggles were boring—"

"Hey!" Hermione protested.

"—but your father sounds absolutely fascinating!" Draco exclaimed.

"He certainly is," Harry said, nodding his head.

"But, what about our robes?" Neville piped up. Harry looked a little surprised as if the thought of all his worldly possessions being alone and unguarded hadn't even concerned him.

"Good point, Neville. We'll get our trunks and return to this compartment for some story time," Harry replied with a small grin. He then walked off with Hermione and Neville in tow.

"Strange kid," Gregory Goyle grunted from the seat across Draco's. Crabbe nodded in agreement.

"Hush, boys. Harry Potter's father seems very dangerous for a muggle. We must assess what dangers he truly possesses." Draco said seriously, which to the outside viewer, sounds very silly coming from an eleven year old.

"I don't think I like Draco too much, Harry. I might strangle him before we get to Hogwarts," Hermione said. Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't take what he has to say too seriously, Hermione. He's just a little sheltered. Too many bad influences probably," He replied.

"Coming from the boy who's been to actual crime scenes as a 'learning experience'," Hermione said, using air quotes.

"Hey! I did learn a lot and besides, Draco can't really be that bad! He's eleven!"

"I don't know, Harry. The Malfoy's have serious anti-muggleborn sentiments. My gran always talks about how slimy and sneaky Draco's father is," Neville said.

"Well, if you two don't like him, you don't have to come with me. However, Hermione, since you are in fact my Watson, I would very much prefer it if you did," Harry retorted, smiling innocently at Hermione. Neville sighed.

"If you stop begging then I'll go back. I'm a pureblood so he's bound to at least act civil towards me," he said.

"You can't just force the title of 'Watson' on me!" she said, very much not wanting to go back to Draco's compartment.

"Please? He could very well be our Moriarty and I would hate for you to miss that," Harry said.

"You really should stop mirroring your parents. It's unoriginal," Hermione snarked.

"You have a point, but still I want to learn more about Draco. You must keep your friends close but your enemies closer!"

"And now you're quoting 'The Godfather'? Is that really the best way to try and convince me; using quotes from a story about criminals?" Hermione said.

"You really do read a lot. Well, I would use a real life quote from the number of criminals I've met but they either don't apply or they say some things I'd rather not repeat in front of a lady," Harry explained

"Fine! Sheesh. Is being your assistant always going to be this tiring and frustrating?" Hermione asked. Harry shook his head.

"Normally it'll be worse," He answered cheekily. Hermione groaned and together, the three of them left the compartment with their bags.

"You've returned! Now, tell me all about Sherlock Holmes," Draco said eagerly.

"You seem a bit more enthusiastic since we've returned Draco, any reason as to why?" Hermione asked suspiciously. Draco grinned at Harry who smiled patiently.

"I want to know all of Mr. Holmes' secrets to assess whether or not he'll be a threat," Draco explained calmly. Hermione and Neville looked confused. Harry snorted.

"Is he lying?" Neville whispered.

"No I don't think so. But then there's no way he'd tell us something like that outright," Hermione replied.

"Unless of course he thought you wouldn't believe the truth because of how outlandish it seems," Harry said. Draco nodded, "Though for future reference Draco, I will always suspend my disbelief if it leads to the truth, no matter how mad it may seem. And I will always come out on top."

"If you're anything to go on, Sherlock Holmes is definitely a threat. I'll be sure to write to father. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Watson. Now, get your mudblood and your blood traitor out of my compartment," Draco said, snapping his fingers. Crabbe and Goyle stepped forwards menacingly. Hermione looked scared, Neville looked like he wanted to fight and run at the same time and Harry was hardly fazed.

"So that's it? Are we enemies now?" Harry asked, a little put out at having his first rival be this predictable.

"I would think not! Imagine being enemies with the most famous boy in our generation before we even got to school! I may not like the company you keep, but I hope to be friendly rivals at least," Draco said casually.

"Oh thank goodness. Come on, let's get back to our compartment. Draco it has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance and I hope for an interesting rivalry," Harry said, extending his hand. Draco shook it and nodded.

"I still don't like you," Hermione sneered.

"Likewise."

"Does this mean we have to lug our trunks all the way back to the other compartment?" Neville asked. Harry smiled.

"Yep."

Dear Sherlock and John,

I know you'll be quite pleased and annoyed respectively that I made my very first rival! I haven't even gotten off the train yet! My new friend Neville said owls were good at sending letters so I'm trying Hedwig out. I told her your names and she nodded like she understood so I guess magic? I'll send another letter soon detailing my first day of classes.

With mushy gushy love,

Harry

"Mushy gushy love?" Hermione giggled.

"John gets a kick out of it and Sherlock gets annoyed by it so I imagine it'll balance them out when they find out I have a rival," Harry replied. He folded the letter up, tied it to Hedwig and watched her soar out the window. Soon, Harry would be at Hogwarts.