Harry Potter, Sherlock 1. Chapter 1

The air in the room was thick with dust as the brick walls crumbled. A body lay face down in the corner. The Aurors slowly made their way through what was left of the building. Mad-eye was the first to find the man, having seen him with his magical blue eye. His wand was at the ready as he approached, prepared for anything that might happen. As he always said CONSTANT VIGULENCE! As he drew closer Mad-eye could see the distinctive mark on the man's left shoulder. The killing curse. Mad-eye swore as he turned over the body to discover who it was.

"Tonks, Kingsley, get in here! You need to see this." Mad-eye shouted as he looked down on the face off John Watson.

Tonks arrived first, her wand dropping to her side when she saw John. "No! No, it can't be him! It has to be a death eater in disguise or something!" she pleaded.

Kingsley swiftly bent down over John and began checking out the wound. His hands moving very slowly and gently over the point that the curse had hit. He looked to Mad-eye, "It's him" he said sadly.

Tonks knelt down beside John as tears silently rolled down her cheeks. He was the third auror that had been killed this week. Soon there would be none of them left.

"We have to get him out of here, before anyone else shows up." As Mad-eye said this he flicked his wand and a stretcher appeared.

"Get him on to that and we will take him back to Hogwarts" he said gruffly.

* * *

McGonagall saw the three aurors walking towards the castle from her office window, but she could not see what they were carrying. She left her office swiftly, stopping only to inform Dumbledore of the Aurors arrival. She and Dumbledore made their way down into the entrance hall, only to be faced by a very grim faced Mad-eye.

"What is it? What's happen?" McGonagall asked as Dumbledore looked at Mad-eye through his half-moon spectacles.

He looked at Dumbledore. "There was nothing we could do." he said. "You knew John, always thought of others before himself. I told him not to go! But did the bloody guy listen? No of course not!"

"What are you saying Alastor?" Said McGonagall.

"Where is he?" Dumbledore said quietly. McGonagall looked at Dumbledore then to Mad-eye as he turned to led them. They followed him to the, now silent, great hall. John Watson was lying on at the end of the Gryffindor table. His eyes were closed, and he looked almost peaceful. Dumbledore moved quickly and quietly to John's side. His hand running over the fatal wound.

"This man is incorrigible!" he chuckled to himself.

* * *

John found himself in his old family home. However it wasn't his family home. It was the same but somehow different. The rooms seemed to give of a strange glow. And there was no one around. He sat down at the table and buried his face in his hands.

"You have to go back, honey." John jumped at the voice and looked up to see his mother sitting next to him.

"Mum?" John croaked

"You can't stay here. You have to go back. While you still can." She said again.

"What are you talking about where am I?" John looked into her eyes as the realisation dawned on him. He was in heaven. That's why his mother was there. She had died when John was twelve, a potion gone wrong. She gently took his hands in hers and looked into his blue watery eyes.

"You have to go back my son. I can't have you here, not yet. Go back to where you belong."

As she said this John started to feel as though he as though he was being pulled away. He reached out to his mother as the walls disappeared and turned into nothing. John's surroundings were gone, it was just black.

* * *

John awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright before pain ripped through him forcing him to lie down again. He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see professor Dumbledore smiling at him.

"My dear Mister Watson, what an extraordinary man you are." He hummed.

"What happen?'

"You were hit in the shoulder by a killing curse. However you seemed to have survived it!" he smiled at John as his eyes twinkled. "Like I said John you are extraordinary man."

"But how? Why? It's not possible!"

"Nothing is impossible my dear friend. You see you were willed back into life somehow. It seems that you were not meant to die today. Fate seems to have other plans for you Mr Watson."

"What could fate possibly have planned for me?"

* * *

_Voicemail 20:43_

"Sherlock its Lestrade call me when you get this I think we're going to need you."

_Voicemail 21:12_

"Sherlock I know you got my message. Call me I think you will like this one."

_Voicemail 22:28_

_"_Fine don't help me catch a serial killer. Whatever you're doing instead better be important!"

Sherlock was lying in his favourite blue silk dressing gown with his hands steepled beneath his chin. His phone lay by the fireplace, unmoved since it was thrown there by him. He had received all of Greg's massages and he was extremely interested by the murders but he couldn't bring himself to leave the flat. He had woken up in a panic this morning, but he didn't know why. He hadn't had a nightmare and there was no case occupying his mind, but he had woken up in cold sweat with a pulling feeling at the pit of his stomach. He had spent the rest of the day sulking around the flat feeling as though he had lost something. He was so deep in thought that he didn't even hear Mrs Hudson come in.

"Look at you! You haven't moved all day. I'll make you a cuppa." Sherlock left his mind palace and returned to the flat to find Mrs Hudson peering down at him. She looked worried.

"Are you alright Sherlock, you don't look well at all." She said softly.

"I am perfectly fine thank you Mrs Hudson. But no tea for me thank you I'm off out."

"What at this time of night?"

"Yes, I've got to go to the morgue, clear my head. I'll be back tomorrow". And with that Sherlock stood up and strode off to his room to get dressed, leaving a curious Mrs Hudson in his wake.

* * *

"Why me professor? I'm not special or extraordinary. Why did I get a second chance when countless others before me didn't?" John was sitting in Dumbledore's office looking down at his hands trying not to make eye contact with him.

"I'm not sure how you survived and I don't know why but I do know that there was a reason John. This shouldn't have happened. It's never happened before, you are the first and only person to survive the killing curse. The thing you have to do now is think about what you are going to do ."

John looked up from his hands to see Dumbledore looking at him over his half-moon spectacles. John always had the feeling that those light blue eyes could see right through him.

"Honestly professor, I don't think I can stay here. I don't deserve to stay. I should have died trying to stop the death eaters in that house. As far as the rest of the world is concerned that's what happened. I know that Mad-eye and Tonks and Kingsley will argue but it's the best thing for me." John was looking at Dumbledore trying to find some sort of clue in his face to tell him how he felt about John's decision.

"So you wish to leave the aurors and live in the muggle world?"

"Yes."

"I will let you do this but I will not help you with what you are about to ask for."

"How did you-?" Dumbledore held up his hand and looked at john sternly.

"I will not help you forget what happened John. I will not let you forget who you are and how you got here. You deserve your power." He looked at John again and John quickly swallowed what he was about to say. "As I was saying, you showed everyone that you had a right to go to Hogwarts and become an auror. I will let you leave but do not think for one second that you are not welcome." With that Dumbledore stood and beckoned for John to do the same. He looked at Dumbledore, nodded and then walked out of the office.

He had no idea where he was going but he knew that it would be as far away from magic as possible.


	2. Chapter 2

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John had settled in London in a tiny one bedroom flat. He had managed to get a job as a muggle doctor and had started to assimilate into life without magic. He still kept his wand on him at all times, and he found himself pulling it out at every noise when he first moved but that was getting less and less frequent now. He managed to come up with a back story to explain where he had been and why he now walked with a limp. He told people that he was shot whilst serving time in Afghanistan and was therefore invalided home. He liked the story and people seemed to not want to pry after that. His shoulder still hurt and he seemed to have developed a tremor to go along with his limp, but he was comfortable living in a world where no one knew him.

"Right I'm off Sarah, I'll see you next week" John said as he walked out of the clinic.

"See you John. Don't have too much fun this weekend." She winked at him before he stepped out into the biting London wind.

He was going to spend the weekend at home reading up on the culture of London and learning how to cook without magic. But that was before he meet Mike. Mike Stanford had known John before John had gone off to Hogwarts. They had been neighbours and John would hang around with him during the holidays away from school.

"John, John Watson?" John turned to see Mike waving and walking towards him. He hadn't changed much apart from the fact that he had put on a substantial amount of weight.

"Mike?" John smiled and shook the man's hand.

"Yeah I know I got fat. Where have you been? I haven't seen you since our last year at school." John smiled

"I, - Well I joined the army."

"Really wow. So what happened?"

"I got injured during a battle and well as you can see." John motioned to the cane he was holding.

"Oh mate I'm sorry. So what are you doing now your back?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm a doctor in a little clinic down the road. I don't think I will be able to stay though. Can't afford London and my budget."

"Well I don't know, you could get yourself a flat share or something?"

"Who'd want me for a flatmate?" Mike just laughed. "What?"

"Nothing it's just you're the second person to say that to me today."

"Really who was the first?"

* * *

Sherlock was sitting in the lab trying to focus on the slides under the microscope. He hadn't had a proper night's sleep in weeks, he couldn't shake the pulling feeling in the pit of his stomach. It was like he was waiting for something, almost as if he were nervous. He didn't like the feeling so he tried to bury it under work. Sherlock didn't look up when Mike walked in he only spoke.

"Mike can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on mine."

"Sorry other coat."

"Here borrow mine." Sherlock's eyes snapped up and fixed on to the man standing in front of him. He was shorter than Sherlock with short sandy blond hair and striking blue eyes.

"Thanks." He said grabbing the phone and twiddling it in his hand. "So, Afghanistan or Iraq?"

"I'm sorry?" The man looked quite taken aback.

"Afghanistan or Iraq" Sherlock said handing back the phone.

"Uh… Afghanistan. But how did you know?" The man just looked confused.

It was in that moment that Sherlock realised the pull in his stomach had gone.

"How do you feel about the violin? I play the violin when I'm thinking, sometimes I don't talk for days on end. Potential flat mates should know the worst about each other." Sherlock didn't know why he said it. He didn't need nor want a flat mate. Yet here he was telling a complete stranger to move in with him. John turned to Mike.

"You told him about me?"

"Not a word." Mike looked as stunned as John, probably because Mike knew Sherlock wasn't who he meant to introduce John too.

"I'm sorry how do you know I was looking for a flat?" John began to think that this man was like him. A wizard. How else could he have all this information, unless he had read John's mind.

"I know you were in the army but were wounded and invalided home. You now work at a clinic but still haven't quite fit back into life back here." The man clutched the cane. "I've got my eye on a nice place in central London together we should be able to afford it. We will meet there tonight at lets say7?"

"So that's it is it? I don't know a thing about you I don't even know your name or the address of the place we're meant to meet."

"The names Sherlock Holmes and the address is 221b Baker Street. Afternoon." And with that Sherlock swept out of the room leaving a very confused John behind him.

Sherlock went to the stairwell and bounded up the stairs toward the roof. He bust through the door breathing heavily. He felt as if he could just float away. Who was that man? Why did I just tell him to move in with me? He sat down and ran through what just happened over and over in his head. He couldn't understand what he'd done.

* * *

John had changed his mind a hundred times before he found himself in a cab heading for central London. He really shouldn't move into a place with a man he barely knew. Especially one who guessed his life story just by looking at him, well the muggle version of it. But there was something about him that John couldn't put his finger on. He had decided by the time the cab pulled that he would talk to this man and ask him how he knew. He paid the cabbie and stood outside 221b Baker Street. He knocked and an older women opened the door.

"Hi, umm, I'm here to see Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh of course, come in, come in." She held open the door and ushered him into a large foyer. John could see her front door open and looked up the stairs.

"Follow me dear" she said as she walked up the stairs. "Are you a client of Sherlock's?"

John looked at her puzzled "Umm no, actually I'm here to talk about moving into the flat."

"Oh how wonderful" She smiled at him as she knocked and entered the flat.

Sherlock was sitting in a large leather chair opposite the door. He didn't look up when John entered he just beckoned to the chair opposite him.

"Have a seat John, some tea Mrs Hudson."

"I'm your landlady not your house keeper."

"Yes thank you. Shut the door on your way out."

Once Mrs Hudson shut the door Sherlock looked up from his phone. John was busy looking around at all the papers, books and files strewn across the floor.

"So I assume you have questions." John looked to Sherlock and opened and shut his mouth several times before any came out.

"What do you do?"

"I'm a consulting detective, the only one in the world, I invented the job."

"And that means?"

"When the police are out of their depth, which is always, they come to me."

"How did you know?"

"I didn't know, I noticed. But it was more difficult than it would have been with anyone else. You have been injured, obviously, but it wasn't your leg. The limp that you walk with is all psychosomatic and you have an intermittent tremor, saying the event surrounding the injury was traumatic. The way you hold yourself says military so wounded in action. That's where the clues dried up and I had to rely on my intellect. Where is a place for a soldier to get wounded in action these days, Afghanistan or Iraq."

"That was absolutely… amazing!" John was smiling

"Really, you think so?"

"Yes, it was quite extraordinary."

"That's not people normally say"

"What do people normally say?"

"Well, Piss off!" John laughs looking at Sherlock. Sherlock opened his mouth to say something when Mrs Hudson walked in with the tea.

"Well I hoped he hasn't scared you off…"

"John" said John jumping up to shake her hand "Doctor John Watson." He smiled.

"I hope he hasn't scared you off John."

"No surprisingly it's quite the contrary." John smiled at Sherlock who was staring back at him. He looked as if he was trying to discover the answer to a puzzle.

* * *

John moved into the flat a week later. He had the upstairs bedroom which meant he had a space away from Sherlock. It was during his second week in the flat that he received the letter. He knew immediately who it was from when he saw it with the rest of the post. It was written with the same emerald green ink as the ones who used to get at the end of summer, before he would go back to school.

"What's that?" John jumped when he saw Sherlock standing in front of him looking at the letter.

"Nothing just a letter from an old friend."

"Hand delivered."

"Huh?" John didn't really understand he was still focused on the unopened letter.

"It was obviously hand delivered. No post stamp and it's hardly a type of envelope you send through the post. Surprising though that the person who delivered it didn't give it straight to you."

"Yeah hand delivered." John muttered as he turned and walked up the stairs to his room. Sherlock watched him feeling thoroughly annoyed. He knew that it was not hand delivered but he couldn't think of how else it could have got to the flat.

John shut the door of his room behind him and opened the letter. It was written in the familiar hand writing of Professor McGonagall.

_Dear John,_

_Professor Dumbledore told me of you decision to leave and all I can say is that I disagree completely, however I will respect your decision. In saying this I want you to know that I am here if you need to talk. I know it can be difficult adjusting to a muggle life, especially after what you went through, but I am here if you need me._

_You are always welcome for tea and a ginger newt. And please take me up on the offer._

_Yours sincerely Minerva _McGonagall.

John read the letter through several times, and looked to the loose floorboard in which he hid his wand. He crossed his room and jimmied up the board with his finger and extracting the box in which his wand was kept. After slipping it in his coat he opened his door to find Sherlock outside with a cup of tea, his hand poised as if he were about to knock.

"Tea?"

"Umm no thanks, off out." With that John pushed past Sherlock and hurried down the stairs and out the door. He had decided he was going to Hogwarts to see Professor McGonagall. Knowing the only way to get there would be to apperate to Hogsmead he walked down the road until he found an abandoned ally. He walked to the end and pulled the wand out of his coat. Concentrating on Hogsmead John turned on the spot and with a loud pop he was gone. Little did John know that Sherlock had followed him to find out where he was going. Sherlock was stunned and did not know what to do. After several long minutes he went back to the flat to wait for John to return.


	3. Chapter 3

**Sorry it took so long, School stress! Pretty please review. Anything you want. Let me know where you want this to go.**

John returned to the flat just after dark. Sherlock wasn't in so he set about making some tea. He had just sat down in his chair holding a freshly brewed cup when he heard Sherlock come through the front door. He came in to the living room and sat down in front of John still wearing his coat.

"Tea?" John said holding up his mug.

"Please" Sherlock watched John as he got up to make another cup of tea. He kept his eyes trained even after he had handed him some tea and sat back down.

"Thank you" He took a sip as John tried to avoid making eye contact with him.

"John we need to talk." John looked at Sherlock now. He knew that Sherlock had figured it out. He was a genius after all.

"Fine"

"I see that you had a good afternoon, you were barley walking with a limp and your tremor is almost non-existent." John rubbed his hand.

"And?"

"I followed you John. I followed you to the alley and I…" He stopped talking and John looked up to see him opened mouthed like he didn't know how to describe what he saw. "I saw you disappear."

John began to panic he didn't want Sherlock to know his secret just yet. Yes it was true he was feeling much better after spending a day at Hogwarts, a day where he used his magic. But he didn't want Sherlock to know and not trust him. He needed Sherlock to trust him. He decided then that he had to lie. He knew Sherlock would know, but it would give him time to decide whether or not he should tell him.

"I don't not what you're talking about. I went and caught the tube to visit an old friend. I wasn't near any alleys."

"John I saw you."

"Well you must have followed the wrong man." John stood up suddenly and walked out the door towards his room. Once inside he slid down the door and sat on the floor still holding his tea. He didn't know why he didn't tell Sherlock. He could have gotten rid of the memory or come up with a better lie, but for some reason John couldn't do it. He felt like he needed his normal life with Sherlock. He bought the tea up to his lips and noticed his hand had started to shake again. John sighed and hopped in to bed and tried to forget his afternoon.

Sherlock had watched John leave the room and continued to stare at the door for a long time. He was deep in his mind palace, he knew that John had lied to him just then but he didn't know why. He also didn't understand how John could disappear. But there had to be a logical explanation. He must have slipped through a hidden door or something. It was impossible. He stayed in his mind palace till well past midnight and did not come up with any new conclusions. He would just have to watch John more closely from now on.

_Flat. Now. Case- SH_

John stared down at the text he just received. He was sitting in his office at the practise. He had left the flat a little over an hour ago and didn't think he could justify taking more time off work.

_I'm working! – JW_

John went back to the mountain of a paper work that had accumulated on his desk in his absence. A moment later his phone buzzed again.

_Well come work for me! – SH_

John sighed. He really wasn't get much done here and he would rather be working a case with Sherlock. So he packed up his things and made some excuse about being sick to Sarah. Five minutes later he was in a cab heading for the flat.

"Sherlock?" John had reached the flat within 20 minutes of leaving work. He walked up the stairs waiting for a reply. None came.

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell have you done?" John had walked into the living room to find it in a state of disrepair. The wallpaper was ripped the furniture flipped and broken, papers and books lay strewn across the room. The kitchen was the same, Sherlock's latest experiment involving mould was thrown across the room. John was just about to go searching for Sherlock when his phone went off. John looked at the screen _Txt from SH _John quickly opened it.

_Just saw Lestrade no new leads on the case. You better be at the flat when I get there! –SH_

John was glad Sherlock was okay. But that meant it wasn't him that ruined the flat. John had to clean up the mess before he got back. He couldn't let Sherlock see this, John somehow thought this was a message for him. He knew he would only have about 15 minutes before Sherlock got back so he went upstairs and pried the loose floorboard free. He was back downstairs with his wand in less than minute and began waving it. Suddenly the fragments of the room were flying into place and were mending themselves. He started in the living room then moved into the kitchen. The place was back to normal in no time and John had felt better than he had in a while. He had just finished when he heard the front door open, knowing it would be Sherlock, John tucked his wand up his sleeve and started to make tea.

* * *

Sherlock had seen the whole scene unfold on his phone in the cab. He had spent an hour tearing the flat apart after John left. He knew it needed to be convincing, he even destroyed his latest experiment, but it had been worth it. He now had proof. John wasn't normal. What he did when he realised Sherlock hadn't done it was impossible, yet Sherlock had seen it with his own two eyes. Clear as day on the screen in front of him. The footage was live streaming from the flat, coming from the cameras he had installed. No one could have tampered with the footage. No one. So how could John do that, he simply waved a stick and the flat was like new. Sherlock had to confront John, he needed to find out what he was.

* * *

It had been a week since John had used magic to repair the flat, yet his wand was still tucked into his sleeve. He couldn't bear to go anywhere without it.

He was also more jumpy, he flinched at every sound and he knew Sherlock had noticed. He was going to have to tell him soon. It was either that or leave. John thought long and hard about how he should do it. Should he tell him? Should he show him? Should he do both? In the end John decided the best way was to tell him and see how he reacted.

He had it all set for one afternoon, they had finished a case that morning so Sherlock would still be focused and attentive. He planned to tell Sherlock out right and then demonstrate. He knew he would be breaking the international wizarding code and should not be showing a muggle, but Sherlock needed to know. John needed Sherlock to know.

"Sherlock?" John was standing in the living room mentally preparing himself.

"What?" Sherlock wandered in wearing a shirt and pants with his blue silk dressing gown over the top. He sat in his chair opposite John.

"I need to tell you something Sherlock. And I need you to try and understand." John was still standing facing Sherlock.

"If this is about how you repaired the flat by waving your arm around I'm all ears." John stared at Sherlock not knowing what to say next.

"You bastard!" He yelled "I knew it was you! Why in the hell did you do that to the flat?"

"Why do you think John, it was an experiment. I needed to confirm my suspicions about you."

"Really? And what did that confirm. Please tell me?"

"That you are not like me. You're different. I don't know what you are… but I need to!" Sherlock was looking at John now. His eyes pleading with John to tell him. John sat down and began telling his story.

"Sherlock this is going to difficult for you to understand." Sherlock scoffed "No I'm serious, you are a scientist you trust in what see in front of you. You won't understand what I am." John sighed and rubbed his eyes. "All right here goes nothing." John pulled out his wand and pointed at the tea pot beside Sherlock, suddenly the tea pot rose and started pouring out tea. Sherlock looked at it with almost indifference. When the pot was back down on the table he turned back to John. John was looking at Sherlock waiting for his reaction.

"Continue" Sherlock steepled his hands under his chin and waited for John to go on.

"I'm a wizard. I found out when I was eleven. I'm the only one in my family. I went to a school called Hogwarts. It teaches kids like me to do magic. After I left I went and studied healing before becoming an auror, it's like a magical police force, I was with them for two years before…" John stopped talking. He couldn't bring himself to describe what happened next.

"Go on John before what?" Sherlock was speaking so gently that John couldn't refuse.

"I was killed. We were hunting a death eater, I went into the building where we thought he was, Moody told me not to go but I had to get this guy. He came up behind me and I was gone. You've got to understand something Sherlock, no one can survive the killing curse. It's impossible, yet I did, I couldn't stand to be the one that survived. So I left that world and started my life here. I thought I could live away from magic, but then I met you and I knew it was only a matter of time before you figured it out. You're a genius for Christ sake! So that's it, all of it." John looked at Sherlock, he was searching for some kind of reaction to what he just told his flatmate. Sherlock moved his hands to his lap and calmly spoke.

"I want to see it John. I want to see Hogwarts."


End file.

Harry Potter, Sherlock, Adventure, Romance