Fortunately At Four

(I can not now quite recall what Aracil may have said, perhaps simply a request for more John and Sherlock raising Harry, and it came about that I rambled something like this ...I was thinking about doing one which deals with Hermione and Harry meeting; I don't know if you might have noticed, but I did this thing with Clara and Harriet where their name is Granger – I wanted Hermione as their little girl.")

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It's Harry Potter's fourth birthday, the first time that Sherlock meets – finally – the namesake of his Harry, the sister of John Watson. Harriet is in dentistry, Sherlock can tell right off, what he doesn't see is that she will become possibly the most terrifying woman he's ever met.

Firstly because a dentist is never to be messed with, someone who can tell you to smile and shine light into your face, ask precisely worded questions any interrogator would clap for, and not flinch from repeated answers when the subject knows better – well, not going into depression in dentistry is a rare thing – and after meeting Harriet, Sherlock is forced –somehow - into going to her for all his mouth care.

She's very good at what she does, and what she learns while Sherlock is under a drug, she never says – but that doesn't mean she can't.

Secondly, Harriet doesn't mind blood in the least, and like her brother she misses the battle-lust, but unlike him, she didn't go into dentistry directly – what she did before involved Mycroft, and Her Majesty and MI6 in some combination that no one will talk about. It's a maddening puzzle that perhaps only Clara has figured out the whole of.

She doesn't smile right off when Sherlock answers the door, instead she looks him over, as if he's some sort of criminal instead of someone who catches them by out thinking them. Sherlock realizes that while John doesn't really talk about Harriet to Sherlock, John talks about Sherlock – quite a lot, up to including having a blog about him – and probably shares more than that with his elder sister. Harriet's hair is cut military short and is the same sort of off-blond as her brother's hair, her eyes are a cold blue and it's hard to tell what she thinks of what she's seen of him.

She's still got a soldier's tan and standing, and as an old saying goes, once a soldier - always a soldier. It's something to keep in mind, and in times like this Sherlock finds it frustrating that he's never met anyone else from John's family – does working for law enforcement, muggle or magical run in his blood?

"Ms Watson?" Sherlock inquires, just to be sure of who is staring at him so bluntly from across his own threshold. It's then that a smile tugs at Harriet's lips, and she looks to her side, where a woman and little girl stands at her side, it's not a unconscious move that had Harriet step protectively in front of them in order to greet him.

"It's Granger now." Harriet states with the pleasure of pride. It's curious to Sherlock that she's taken her wife's name – but he doesn't question it - yet, he's not so crass as John thinks.

"Ah, yes, and you must be Clara?" Sherlock looks to her for the first time; she's a taller woman than Harriet is; her hair brown and curly. It has a fuzziness to it that can't be pinned down or tamed. Her eyes are a hazel that could be brown if the light was right. She smiles at Sherlock, and it speaks of secrets she knows and Sherlock will never guess.

"A pleasure to meet you, Sherlock Holmes…." Clara's voice is quiet and controlled; for all that her wild hair hides a wand tucked into it. She's wearing robes that look formal and dressy. This is a four year olds birthday party, and only family and friends will be let within 221B. Clara wares such formal robes not because of where she's going or where she's been, but because she's most comfortable in them. It's like Sherlock's brother and suits.

"This is our daughter, Hermione." So introduced, their little girl does a curtsy as well to do as anyone with royal blood. Sherlock has to wonder where they go and who they interact with that a little girl learns to do such a thing as naturally graceful as that.

"Come in." Sherlock stands aside and they do, one by one. It isn't until Clara pauses that Sherlock realizes they aren't the only ones in the hall.

"Severus! It's been too long." Clara's smile is a bright and truthful one. It's plain to see that whatever secrets she holds and hides, who she likes and loves and hates and dislikes isn't one of them. It's strange to see someone so open about their feelings, and Sherlock wonders what that's like.

"Are you joining us?" Harriet asks, with a small smile and it widens at Severus's small nod.

Sherlock leads them up the stairway, glancing to the kitchen where John is working on making a cake. All of Harry's favorite foods are mostly done, as far as Sherlock can see – and he doesn't dare ask, as John had forbidden any more badgering of chefs in the kitchen. Harriet's lips twitch at the sight of her brother in an apron and covered in flour. She heads in that direction, her intent clear to read. No one says a word about too many cooks in the kitchen, Sherlock sees it, how Clara and Severus go to the couch to keep Hermione occupied – it's familiar to them, an old routine being replayed. This is their family.

And Sherlock is accepted into it without question.

He stands watching them, as Harriet and John work side by side in the kitchen that John's always complained is too crowded if Sherlock so much as stepped a toe out of line while John was mixing or baking or cooking up something to make. By his sister's side, it's like watching two bodies working with one mind.

Clara wraps a arm around Hermione, and Severus opens up and talks like Sherlock's never seen, and he gets a glimpse at what makes Severus a good teacher, not his mood, but his animation, his passion for any subject he really talks about freely. Hermione's eyes, brown and big are fixed on him as she listens intently.

Sherlock has to wonder if wizards and witches aren't a bit brighter at this age than 'muggle' children, or if it's simply that Sherlock's not paid much attention to how children are raised, simply accepted those children that come from the streets as they are and tried to make them see the best of themselves. If giving them hope made them "useful" to Sherlock, it was only a small scale of what governments did to everyone. His Irregulars were a point of pride, they were always clothed – and fed, and given a "fee" for watching for what Sherlock didn't see.

Sherlock hears their arrival, a rattling on the door along with a familiar tread of feet. Sherlock would roll his eyes at how obvious it all seems. He turns off the light, putting finger to his lips, and Harriet and John duck out of sight behind the kitchen counter, while Clara and Hermione and Severus try their best to hide behind the back of the couch. Sherlock waits to see his brother's eyes before he steps into the shadows inside 221BBaker Street.

Harry manages the last of the steps on his own, looking about worriedly into the darkened apartment.

"Where'd-?"

"Surprise!" John had managed to get four candles lit and pops up like a shadow with a will-o-wisp. Harry yelps, everyone shouts 'Happy Birthday Harry!', and Sherlock turns on the lights hoping everything has been a success.

Hermione giggles at the look on Harry's face, as his wide green eyes take it all in, and he grins and can't stop grinning.

Harry and Hermione sit side by side and have cake; the only snare to the evening comes from a gift that Severus had presented, a potions kit, which is less an actual starter on potions and more a safety game of the art. It catches both Harry's and Hermione's eyes, and there is almost a fight over it, until John insists they try first to play together.

To Sherlock's surprise, that suggestion goes over smoothly between the two children.

It would never have worked with Mycroft and he, sharing and such - but perhaps like Harriet and John, Harry and Hermione will be raised to rely on someone day-to-day rather than only risk called for it. Sherlock recalls Anderson's sneer and Donovan's shock at the sight of Harry so near to him, and Lestrade's fear – not of Sherlock, but for a little boy. John's reaction had only cemented it. Sherlock might not need many friends, but he had them – and so would Harry.

Sherlock smiles just a little. He catches Mycroft's eye and knows he's not the only one that can think of a bright future for his Harry. Better, Severus will be blamed for the early potions interest – and if Sherlock sneaks a little science into their play, it won't be noticed until it's far too late to unlearn.

Bright and early next day, Harry insists on seeing Hermione, a body is found on Monday morning posed in front of the Tower of London – and Sherlock makes a hasty call to Harriet begging her to take Harry for a bit because they aren't sure of his safety. The body found had been a boy Harry's age and look-alike and the implication for Sherlock had been as clear to see as the blood.

Severus never seems to mind following Harry along on the trips to Clara and Harriet's house, and if he's perhaps more comfortable with them than living beside John and Sherlock he never says. Sherlock won't stop what he does, and John won't stop standing beside him in the thick of it.

It isn't until the case is settled and Harry asks his Dada and Papa to go see his sisterHer-MY-oh-knee that they realize they've been adopted, and their family is twice what it was. It's a gift that Harry's given them, and they do say you can't choose your family.

Family, Sherlock finds, chooses you.