Harry Potter, Sherlock 1. Chapter 1

**Cantil: Hello all, it's been a while. Sorry about that, but here is a new story for you all to enjoy. Really wanted to write this pairing, but I'm bad at writing intelligent characters like Sherlock, so I sincerely apologize in advance for my poor attempt. Let me know if I got Sherlock's eye color right.**

**Summary: Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?**

**Warnings: OOCNESS, possible language, grammar/spelling issues, male/male relationships, Voldemort/Sherlock pairing, and just bad writing in general. If you are still here, then congratulations.**

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 1**

Lord Voldemort sat behind a tidy oak desk in his study, the wood shining brightly. Books littered the walls on shelves, his life collection. Normally the immense amount of books and general quietness of the room would calm him, but not today. No. He was very annoyed at his followers for being late on their report.

Voldemort sighed tiredly as he tapped his fingers against the desk, before he remembered that he had a raid to plan for and he pulled out some parchment and quill. He was just finishing it up when there was a knock on his door.

"Enter." He commanded coldly. _Finally. _He thought.

Two men dressed in all black with white masks on led two, _Muggles? _Into the room and pushed them roughly to their knees in front of his desk. They were bound heavily in rope and were staring at him in what he guessed was horror, but he ignored them and watched his followers intently.

These two followers were new to join his cause and he couldn't be bothered to remember their names. He aptly named them dumb and dumber in his head.

"My Lord." They bowed low and one motioned towards the men on their knees with a sneer. "These Muggles were wandering about the mansion." He stated, like that explained everything. Voldemort said nothing, enjoying the look of pure terror barely hidden by the masks they wore. "S-so we thought-"

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong, you didn't think. This mansion is out in the open, meaning that Muggles are expected to walk by every now and again. Or did you think this place was invisible to them?" Voldemort asked with a sneer, smirking when they flinched away.

"Now we have two problems, my friends. We have two Muggles who now know our location, and we have the two buffoons who led them here. Oh my, whatever shall we do?" The two death eaters fell to their knees, begging to be spared of torture. Voldemort glared at them, about to deliver said torture when one of the bound men spoke.

"Um, excuse me sir?" He asked quietly. Voldemort turned towards the voice and glared for the interruption. The man had blonde hair, what looked like brown eyes, was dressed in brown trousers, a tan vest and had various cuts and bruises, most likely from war.

"What?" Voldemort snapped impatiently.

"If you let us go, we promise we wont tell anyone where you live. We'll leave and never come back." Voldemort turned to his followers.

"Leave us." When neither moved, Voldemort sent a wordless Crucio their way. "Now!" They yelped and quickly left the room, the door banging closed behind them.

Voldemort sent a spell at the two Muggles, cutting them free of their bounds. The two looked at where the rope had been in shock. "Sit." He ordered, pointing to the seats in front of his desk. Once seated Voldemort finally looked towards the other Muggle who had been silent this whole time, only to be blown away.

The man was tall, at least six feet and lean, his eyes a sharp and piercing blue, he looked very intelligent with his blue scarf and billowing coat. Voldemort was entranced the second red eyes met blue in a battle for dominance.

"Your names?" Voldemort asked curiously, breathlessly. He forced his eyes away from this enchanting man.

"I'm John Watson." Voldemort nodded, looking towards John before his eyes were once again drawn back to the other man.

"Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective. And the address is 221b Baker Street." Sherlock offered with a wink, making Voldemort have to fight down a blush. This Sherlock character was very odd, Voldemort observed.

Voldemort cleared his throat, unable to identify the tightness in his chest. He felt like he was a bloody teenager again and he didn't like it.

"And what were you doing outside the mansion.?" He questioned.

"Oh, we were looking for a man named George Fed. He went missing a few days ago and witnesses saw him wandering outside your mansion on many occasions." John explained carefully, trying not to look accusing, but the mere sight of whatever this thing was in front of him made John suspicious. He didn't look human at all.

"I can assure you I have not seen nor heard that name in my lifetime, and I don't appreaciate being accused of such. Tell me, John was it? What is to stop me from killing you both where you stand and moving on with my day, hm?" Voldemort stood up and brandished his wand threateningly.

John held up his hands placatingly, looking to Sherlock for answers only to find him staring wonderously at the man who just threatened to murder them. "Nothings stopping you, we have nothing to offer but his mind and my medical abilities."

Voldemort stared at them for what seemed like hours before lowering his wand and offering them a glare. He hated to admit it, but something about Sherlock made Voldemort reluctant to kill him, and his curiousity was getting the better of him. He would let them live, for now anyway.

"Yes well I suppose I shall have to take you home then." This night just kept getting weirder by the minute. Sherlock looked like he was going to say something, but John stopped him by elbowing him in the chest. Voldemort narrowed his eyes slightly at the treatment, but said nothing. "Come."

Voldemort assumed that the address that Sherlock had given him was a real one. He walked over to them, grabbed them both gently by the shoulders and apparated them to what he hoped was their home.

John collapsed to the ground dry heaving, and Sherlock swayed slightly before gaining control of himself. "Oh, right. Sorry, I forgot to mention my methods of traveling beforehand." Voldemort wasn't used to apologizing so he hoped it sounded sincere enough to be believable. To tell the truth, their reactions to the apparation made Voldemort have to hide his amusement.

He looked around them curiously, taking in the crowded flat curiously. It was a mess, he noticed various news articles thrown about, empty tea cups, bullet holes in the walls, various test tubes and lab equipment strown about.

"That was interesting." Muttered Sherlock.

"Interesting? It was bloody mental Sherlock. How did you manage to do that anyway, magic?" John said sarcastically, finally questioning all the strange things that happened that night.

"Of course John, don't be daft. How else would he have gotten us here that fast?"

"Oh, sorry, my bad." John rolled his eyes skyward. "Of course magic exists. How stupid of me to think otherwise for all these years."

"That's the spirit." Sherlock said cheerfully, with a smirk. Sherlock then began to pace, Voldemort watching in amusement. "Of course the concept is very interesting, magic seems illogical, impossible, and yet the proof is right here in front of us. Our flat. Hm...I'll need to examine things further." He turned to Voldemort expectantly.

"Will you come back this week at some point?"

Voldemort couldn't find it in him to refuse so he nodded quickly. _Oh, yes._ He thought. _I'll definitely be wanting to see this man again. Sherlock Holmes. _

He soon left the flat with the excuse of dealing with his followers, Sherlock still on his mind the rest of the night. He would later be lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating why he had let those Muggles, men he corrected himself, live.

It didn't make sense. He had never felt this protective or curious about Muggles, but something about them, about Sherlock was different, and it made him want to please him and get to know him more. Voldemort sighed tiredly, and finally slipped off to sleep. A confused frown marring his face.

XXX


	2. Chapter 2

**Cantil: Here you go guys, chapter 2. I'm not quite sure where this story is going, but we'll find out together. **

Summary: **Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?**

**Recap of Chapter 1:**_**"Will you come back this week at some point?"Voldemort couldn't find it in him to refuse so he nodded quickly. **___**Oh, yes.**___** He thought. **___**I'll definitely be wanting to see this man again. Sherlock Holmes. **___**He soon left the flat with the excuse of dealing with his followers, Sherlock still on his mind the rest of the night. He would later be lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating why he had let those Muggles, men he corrected himself, live.**_

_**It didn't make sense. He had never felt this protective or curious about Muggles, but something about them, about Sherlock was different, and it made him want to please him and get to know him more. Voldemort sighed tiredly, and finally slipped off to sleep. A confused frown marring his face.**_

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 2**

Despite his promise to see Sherlock again that week, Voldemort never went back. He wouldn't, couldn't, put his plans on hold for some man he just met. _You don't need anyone, never have, and you don't need him either. _Voldemort told himself this everyday.

Yet it was three weeks later, and Voldemort still couldn't get Sherlock out of his head. His voice, the way he talked, how he oozed confidence and intelligence. Voldemort pressed a hand to his aching forehead with a deep sigh. He couldn't go on without seeing him at least one last time.

_Just once. _He promised himself. _At least tell Sherlock goodbye, then you'll feel better and can move on with your life. _Voldemort stood from his desk, gathered up his cloak, and wand, putting a glamor on himself, making him look like he was thirty again. He now had brown wavy hair, and deep piercing brown eyes. Satisfied with his look, Voldemort apparated outside of the flat.

He hardly knew whether or not they had someone else in the flat and he didn't feel quite up to putting on a show today. The plate with 221b shown brightly as he gazed at it for what seemed like hours. Taking a deep breath, Voldemort rapped sharply on the door. There was scuffling on the other side before the door opened to reveal an old woman.

"Oh, hello dear, come in, come in." She ushered Voldemort inside hurriedly, and closed the door behind him. "You must be here to see Sherlock then?" She asked. Voldemort nodded, and she beamed at him. "Go right on up then, he and John should be there."

Voldemort nodded his thanks, shaking his head slightly as he made his way upstairs. Was this whole street weird or what? Inviting strangers into their homes. What if he was a murderer or something...? oh...right. He was.

Voldemort came to a door at the top of the stairs, and knocked loudly. Not a second later John opened the door with a smile and stepped aside to let Voldemort in. He strode in confidently, that is until he saw Sherlock sprawled out on the couch with his hands stapled under his chin. Voldemort felt his breath hitch and that tightness in his chest rise steadily. Snapping himself out of his trance, Voldemort sat on one of the chairs not far away from the couch.

"Sherlock! We have a guest." John said irritably. Voldemort looked from John to Sherlock curiously. It was obvious that the two of them had been arguing before he had arrived. Sherlock looked at Voldemort with calculating eyes, making him surprisingly uncomfortable. Voldemort frowned, unsure of what it was, but dismissed the feeling until later.

"What can we do for you, sir?" John asked when Sherlock didn't offer a greeting. Voldemort shifted his eyes to John thoughtfully. _I could show myself, _he thought, _or I can see how this plays out. _Voldemort wasn't fond of beating around the bush though and so he didn't have to think over his options long.

"I'm here because I was asked to return by Sherlock." He decided to make his reason as vague as possible just so he could test how Sherlock's mind worked.

Sherlock frowned for a moment, before he suddenly grew even more distant and cold. "Ah, but you see, you can't be him because I specifically asked him to come back three weeks ago. He wouldn't have waited this long I'm sure." He said sarcastically. Voldemort almost flinched at the glare Sherlock was sending his way, but took off his glamor anyways.

"I am. I have no explanation I can offer, but know that I regret not coming here again until now." Voldemort said sincerely.

Sherlock scoffed lightly and turned his back to Voldemort, curling up on the couch. "Leave here. Now."

"Sherlock! He said he was sorry so stop being a prat and grow up!" John shouted from the seat he had taken not far off from them, not taking his eyes off the newspaper he was reading.

"No it's quite alright, I should leave anyways. I came here to say goodbye, and I won't come back. I've work to do." Voldemort stood up, no longer looking in Sherlock's direction. He knew if he did his resolve would crumble.

John looked up from his paper with a frown. "You're leaving. Just like that? After apologizing and everything? We don't even know your name." He looked at Voldemort incredulously.

"Let him go. He obviously has better things to be doing besides associating with common folk. What was the word you used before, oh right, _Muggles_." Sherlock spat the word like a curse, making Voldemort grimace. "I'm sure you've got plenty of those to kill. Tell me, why haven't you killed John and I?" He asked coldly, turning around to glare at him.

Voldemort opened and closed his mouth a few times, speechless. "Because believe it or not Sherlock Holmes, I'm not as bad as people say I am. I have feelings, most of which I don't understand, being raised in an orphanage your whole life will do that to you..." Voldemort stopped short in his rant.

He hadn't meant to mention the orphanage, but in the heat of the moment it had slipped out. Now that he had started though he couldn't stop. "You want to know why I kill Muggles to begin with? I didn't have a nice childhood. I was beaten, abused, and misjudged because I'm different. I wasn't given a chance, they called in a priest to exercise me, claiming that I was a spawn of Satan. All my life, all I've ever gotten from Muggles was pain. So I decided enough was enough and vowed to kill every last one of them, but you. You're different and I don't know why." Voldemort ended his tirade breathlessly. He refused to meet either of their gazes.

"And what happens when you figure it out?" John asked.

Voldemort shrugged. "I don't know." He looked around him, trying not to fidget with his hands. "I should go." He was about to disaparate when Sherlock stopped him.

"Wait. I still want to examine your magic further. Stay here for three nights then you can leave and never come back if that's what you wish." Sherlock called out.

Voldemort stared at him for many moments before nodding silently. His followers were all busy with raids anyways, he had time. Sitting back down stiffly, he let Sherlock take his wand in his hands to look over.

XXX


	3. Chapter 3

**C****antil: Hey guys. Sorry this is a little later than I wanted it to be, but I finally got it done. Let me know what you think. **

**Summary:** **Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?**

**Recap Of Chapter 2: ****_**Voldemort shrugged. "I don't know." He looked around him, trying not to fidget with his hands. "I should go." He was about to disaparate when Sherlock stopped him. **_**

"_**Wait. I still want to examine your magic further. Stay here for three nights then you can leave and never come back if that's what you wish." Sherlock called out. **_

_**Voldemort stared at him for many moments before nodding silently. His followers were all busy with raids anyways, he had time. Sitting back down stiffly, he let Sherlock take his wand in his hands to look over. **_

****Changing The Dark****

****Chapter 3****

John looked up, folding his news paper quietly. "And where do you expect him to sleep Sherlock?" He asked incredulously. Sherlock didn't look away from the wand in his hand.

"I don't need my room at the moment since I hardly sleep much." Sherlock glanced at Voldemort curiously. "I'm sure you can clean the room easily enough...?" He questioned, obviously not sure of Voldemorts name.

"Yes I can, and you can call me Voldemort." Voldemort said easily. John nodded thoughtfully, while Sherlock tried to figure out Voldemort's real name in his head, but eventually stored the name away for examination later.

"You were born with these powers I presume?" Sherlock said, getting back to the task at hand. Voldemort looked suspicious at first before inclining his head slowly.

"Yes." He answered briskly. Sherlock suddenly looked back and fourth between the door and Voldemort. Voldemort understood and quickly put his glamor back up just in time for the door to burst open.

"Sherlock, I've got a case for you." The man was obviously a police officer by the state of his clothes. They were old and tattered from overuse, his silver hair and brown eyes shining in the light of the room. His badge read G. Lestrade. Lestrade looked to Voldemort curiously, but didn't comment on his pressence.

"What is it Lestrade, can't you see I'm busy?" Sherlock gestured to Voldemort with his free hand.

Lestrade glanced between all of them briefly, then threw down a folder on the coffee table. "Yes, well luckily this can be handled from here. Just take a look at the case, call me and let me know what you find." And with that Lestrade was gone, leaving the room in a tense silence.

"At least he didn't ask questions." John muttered under his breath, and Voldemort agreed with him.

Sherlock handed Voldemort his wand back, who took it gently. Their hands briefly touched, sending shivers up Voldemort's spine, and making Voldemort pull away as if he were burned.

Voldemort cleared his throat uselessly and looked away from Sherlock's piercing gaze. "Would you like to see me perform magic then?" He asked, trying to draw attention towards something else. Sherlock nodded enthusiastically.

"Of course."

Voldemort pointed his wand at Johns chair, but before he could utter a single word Sherlock sprung up from the couch, took Voldemort's hand, pulled him up from his chair and out the door. John following them outside with a frown.

****XXX****

****Cantil: I know its short, and I'm sorry. Just have some writers block at the moment. Let me know maybe what could happen next and where I should take this story. It might help me. ****


	4. Update

**I****MPORTANT**

**NOTICE**

**Hello all, I was supposed to update today, but I've been having trouble coming up with inspiration/incentive to write the next chapter. (Sigh)The joys of writers block, and general life problems. I wanted to let everyone know that I will try my best to update this, but know that if I can't then instead of just discontinuing this story I'll put it up for adoption as long as the person I give it to follows the plot loosely. I know I've probably disappointed a lot of people that like my story, but once ****again I'm so sorry, and I'm trying my best. That's all for now. **

**Sincerely, **

**Cantil**


	5. Chapter 5

**C****antil: I just wanted to take a minute to thank JustlikeWater for helping me find inspiration and giving me suggestions on the story. You are amazing! I haven't given up on the story yet and you are the reason, so thank you. **

**Summary: ****Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?**

**Recap Of Chapter 3: **_**Voldemort cleared his throat uselessly and looked away from Sherlock's piercing gaze. "Would you like to see me perform magic then?" He asked, trying to draw attention towards something else. Sherlock nodded enthusiastically.**_

_**"Of course."**_

_**Voldemort pointed his wand at Johns chair, but before he could utter a single word Sherlock sprung up from the couch, took Voldemort's hand, pulled him up from his chair and out the door. John following them outside with a frown.**_

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 4**

Once outside, Sherlock hailed a taxi, ushered Voldemort inside, and turned to John. "You're not coming?" He asked, though it wasn't really a question.

"No, I have a date tonight." John replied easily, waving both of them off with a smirk. John kind of felt bad about using his date as a reason to match make his best friend, but shrugged it off. Sherlock looked at John suspiciously, but said nothing as he got into the taxi with Voldemort, John watching as the taxi sped off.

Meanwhile in the taxi was a tense silence. Voldemort fidgeted with his wand uselessly, glancing at Sherlock curiously, who was texting textingon his phone. "Where are we going?" He asked.

Sherlock didn't look away from his phone as he answered, "We have a crime scene to go to."

Voldemort blinked at him incredulously. "A crime scene." He repeated.

Sherlock sighed, and gave Voldemort a look that made him feel like an idiot. "Yes, a crime scene, do keep up. You're almost as bad as John." Voldemort's eyes narrowed at the last comment, but decided to remain quiet as the taxi came to a stop outside a blue two story house.

Sherlock jumped out of the taxi and practically ran inside the house, Voldemort following not far behind. They came into a living room that had blood everywhere and the body of a woman lying in the middle of the room. Sherlock walked up to the woman to get a closer look.

Voldemort saw Lestrade walk in soon after, and looked at him curiously. "Who is this Sherlock?" Lestrade asked with a sigh.

"He's with me." Was the only explanation Sherlock gave. Lestrade made a face at his back, but didn't comment on Voldemort's presence further, instead getting back on track. "Right then, what have you got for me?"

Sherlock straightened up, boredom oozing off of him, but Voldemort could tell he was excited about the case. "Woman age 30, happily married for 10 years, non-smoker, Irish, wished to have a baby, but husband didn't want one. Found out she was pregnant, told husband, husband grew scared of the prospect which started a fight. Fight intensified when wife brought up the fact he was cheating on her with the school teacher, he pushed her down the stairs. She fell and snapped her neck. Husband grew worried that he would go to jail, so he dragged her to the living room, cleaned up the blood poorly and fled out the back door." Sherlock finished his tirade with a smug smile.

Voldemort stared, his mouth almost hanging open in shock. He didn't know why, but seeing Sherlock give his deductions did things to Voldemort's body that he'd rather not mention. "That was..." Voldemort swallowed heavily. "Interesting." He finished lamely, but Sherlock smiled slightly in his direction.

"If that's all you needed Lestrade, then we'll be leaving." Sherlock walked out the front door, Voldemort following like a little puppy. Lestrade watched them leave with a frown. He didn't know who the other man was, but he had a feeling he would be seeing more of him soon.

Sherlock and Voldemort returned to the flat in a comfortable silence. "Come, Voldemort, while John is out we can explore your magic a little more. I'm sure John will be spending the night with his date, if his anxiousness was anything to go by." Sherlock said, leading the way into the flat, and motioning for Voldemort to sit at the kitchen table where all his equipment for experiments were.

Voldemort sat down with a smile. He was growing fond of Sherlock, but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about it. _This should be an interesting night._ He thought in amusement.

**-To Be Continued-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Cantil: Hello all! This chapter is probably another short one until I feel better from the cold I recently developed, but I finally have time to upload it. **

**Summary: **Voldemort has always hated muggles and wants to kill them all, but what happens when his followers bring in a man named Sherlock Holmes and Voldemort finds himself falling in love with him?****

**Recap Of Chapter ****4****:** **S****herlock and Voldemort returned to the flat in a comfortable silence. "Come, Voldemort, while John is out we can explore your magic a little more. I'm sure John will be spending the night with his date, if his anxiousness was anything to go by." Sherlock said, leading the way into the flat, and motioning for Voldemort to sit at the kitchen table where all his equipment for experiments were. **

**Voldemort sat down with a smile. He was growing fond of Sherlock, but he couldn't find it in himself to be angry about it. _This should be an interesting night._ He thought in amusement. **

**Changing The Dark**

**Chapter 5**

**Part One Of Magic Study **

"So what, exactly, are we doing?" Voldemort questioned, the speciousness he felt leaked into his voice despite his effort to hide it. Sherlock flipped through a notebook until he found a blank page. He didn't normally need one what with his mind palace, but this was a special case. He would be studying Voldemort's magic and he didn't want to miss a thing.

"_We _aren't doing anything. You're going to perform some spells while I observe and write notes, then I'll conduct research on my findings." Sherlock explained calmly, Voldemort shooting him an irritated look.

"Of course." Voldemort gestured vaguely around the room. "Well, what would you like to see? Perhaps a disappearing act? Oh, I know! I'll go get a puppy and kill it in front of you, how's that sound?" He stood up from his chair, looking out the window with his arms crossed. He honestly didn't know why he was so upset, just that he was.

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a few times, a frown marring his beautiful features, before he cleared his throat. "Yes, well, perhaps we'll stick with whatever you've got to show me that doesn't involve killing?"

Voldemort nodded stiffly, and took up his wand from the table. He fingered the familiar wood in a tense silence, until he noticed Sherlock staring at him expectantly. "You would like to know the spell as I cast, correct?" Sherlock inclined his head slightly. Voldemort looked around the room until his red gaze settled on the mirror across from him."Alright. Reducto!" A blue light shot out from the tip of his wand and shattered the mirror into a big mess on the floor.

He didn't need his wand for this, but figured Sherlock would like to see the wand movement for it. When Voldemort looked back at Sherlock he was shocked to see the open expression on his face. Sherlock's face was flushed, his fingers twitching from the excitement, wonder, and he had a glint in his eyes that Voldemort had never witnessed before. Voldemort quickly looked away, unable to hide the proud smile on his face.

The spells continued from there, getting progressively more intense as they moved on. They would've continued, but Sherlock mentioned wanting to see the unforgivable curses, and that's where Voldemort drew the line. He wouldn't perform the spells on Sherlock, and he doubted Sherlock would let him bring in someone else or an animal to perform them. "I think that's enough for today." He announced. Sherlock looked disappointed, and Voldemort had to physically stop himself from giving in to that pout, but just as quickly as it came, it was gone.

"Same time tomorrow. You can sleep in my room." Sherlock said expressionlessly, standing up, and grabbing his coat off the back of his leather chair. Voldemort started in surprise.

"Wait...Where are you going?" He asked carefully. Voldemort only barely managed to hide his flinch when Sherlock glared at him.

"Out." Was the only answer Voldemort got before the flat was empty, leaving Voldemort to his own loneliness. _What did I do?_ He asked himself. He understood that Sherlock was disappointed in him when he wouldn't perform the unforgivable s, but what else was he supposed to do? _Wait..What if he's upset, not because I wouldn't perform the magic, but because I refused to do it in front of him even though I perform the spells daily at home? I don't want him to see that side of me, but if I can make this better than I will. _

With that in mind Voldemort settled down firmly on the couch, willing to wait all night for Sherlock to come back if he had to.

**To Be Continued **


End file.

Harry Potter, Sherlock, Drama, Romance