Harry Potter, Sherlock 1. Chapter 1

**My first Sherlock fanfiction. Must it be crossed with Harry Potter? Yes, it must. And yes, it must be made up as we go along. As are all my stories, are they not?**

Sherlock Holmes, greatest brain of Britain, and one may daresay the world, sat in a chair, busying himself with being bored, "John, check that blog of yours and see if there are any cases at all"

John Watson, moral compass and make shift keeper to the greatest brain and most childish grownup in the world, nearly jumped out of his skin, but checked the blog comments nonetheless.

"Nothing to date", he replied.

Sherlock groaned and rolled over. What he wasn't informed as being the cause of the lack of cases was the aftermath of the newspaper series proclaiming him a fraud. Even after the truth was circulated that Sherlock was alive, well, and every bit as annoying as he always genuinely was, no one would trust Sherlock until he solved a case.

However, he couldn't solve a case without being given one, so thus is the vicious circle.

Sherlock stood up suddenly, again startling John, and began to get dressed to go outside, "Come along John, we're going to go alleviate my boredom"

Sighing, John complied and donned his jacket as Sherlock tied his scarf around his neck.

On the landing, "We're off, Mrs. Hudson!", John called.

"Don't lose Sherlock, will you?"

Out in the brisk London air, a once over on the newspaper stands produced no sort of boredom buster.

"No matter", John attempted to distract the severely bored consulting detective.

Ignoring him, Sherlock leaned against the fencing, next to the same homeless person who had helped them with the fraud painting case long back.

"Got anything I'll take a shine to?", Sherlock asked.

"Something you'd pay for even, sir", she passed him a yellowing sort of parchment paper, exchanged for a crisp bill.

John looked over Sherlock shoulder as he read the parchment and checked something on the internet on his phone.

_Kings' Cross to Scotland_

"Come on, John", Sherlock called over his shoulder as he hailed a taxi, "Don't want to miss the next train.

"Sherlock, what train?", John asked as he got into the taxi whose door Sherlock held open.

"The one at Kings' Cross station, of course"

Sherlock was excited in the taxi as the cabbie drove to the station as asked.

"Calm down Sherlock", John said, "You're getting ahead of yourself. You may not even like the case"

"I'll take any case at all, at the moment", Sherlock looked out the window.

In Kings' Cross station, John took care to abide by Mrs. Hudson's advice and not let Sherlock wander or get ahead of himself.

The station was crowded beyond what John could believe, with more traffic than he thought to get to the trains.

To rest in what seemed to be rush hour, Sherlock leaned on the pillar between platform nine and platform ten, promptly disappearing.

John looked over his shoulder, just in time to see the flailing hand of Sherlock, who was landing on platform nine and three quarters, melt into the wall.

"What the f—", John successfully went through the wall right after Sherlock, not even thinking what would be on the other side.

**R&E&R, my lovely readers!**


	2. Chapter 2

**No reviews as yet, but I'll keep hoping… *hint, hint* R&E&R! (Just in case: Read, Enjoy and Review!)**

Both John and Sherlock stood on platform 9 ¾, completely and utterly gobsmacked at what their eyes were relaying to their brain through a row of almost crazy nerves.

A long, red train with _Hogwarts Express _emblazoned on it smoked impatiently as the kids, ranging from eleven years old to eighteen, boarded it.

And that wasn't the end of it. How the both of them had simply melted through the wall with no sign or mangling or molecular disarrangement was the next mystery.

Sherlock was too stunned to even analyze the situation, or to deduct a simple conclusion to what on earth was happening, while John was much to busy being shocked to even blink, lest the whole scene dissolved away.

John had an inkling, though, of what was happening, having read the Harry Potter series when he was young. However, Sherlock was completely obvious, having no interest whatsoever in children's literature, bestseller or not.

They only came back to their senses when the train started to move slowly. Running fast, the two men boarded the train just before it picked up speed and started to move fster and out of the station, away to Scotland countryside.

Sherlock and John walked along the empty corridor, finding every compartment full. Only at the far off end, where the noise abated, did they find a half full compartment. A man with black, seemingly soulless eyes and lanky black hair sat beside the other occupant, a woman shrouded in the same robes that the man wore, wearing half moon spectacles and a strict bun at the top of her head.

Taking the inevitable risk of whatever was even happening, Sherlock stepped into the compartment with a fake smile and John behind him.

He was just about to introduce himself, as a new teacher to the thing he deduced was a school.

Boarding schools often hired whole trains to take the children to the school from the station, and the students changed clothes on the train. A few teachers would be in the train to take care, which these two were.

It was almost too simple. But then, nothing seemed too simple where Sherlock and John were concerned.

As soon as they stepped foot in the compartment, the black haired man stood immediately, offensive, as the woman stood as well, both drawing slender cylinders of wood.

"Who are you people?", he demanded, "How did you pass onto the platform?"

Before either John or Sherlock could reply to this strange greeting, the woman asked, "Are you muggles?"

"I believe they are, Minerva. How shall we handle it?"

"Use your sleeping potion, Severus, I'll inform Dumbledore by owl, and he'll handle it immediately when we get to the school", Minerva instructed.

Severus nodded, and muttered, "_Finite!"_ as Minerva quickly walked down the corridor.

Thin, strong ropes bound the struggling Sherlock and John to the seat.

"Who are you? How did you do that?", Sherlock asked as Severus took out a small vial of the potion.

"Such a shame it has to be wasted on you two", he sighed, and wasted no time in force feeding the two of them a few drops each.

Within nanoseconds, they were both in a deep, dreamless sleep.

**Next chapter the plot comes straight into action. R&E&R! (Especially the last one, seriously)**Paste your document here...


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Harry Potter, Sherlock, Crime, Humor