Fic: City of Delusion 7/?, Dresden Files/Sherlock [PG-13]
Title: City of Delusion
Author: Aeron Lanart
Fandoms: Dresden Files (tv verse) and Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/pairing: Harry Dresden, Connie Murphy, Bob, Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating/Spoilers: PG. References to the Dresden Files ep The Boone Identity, no other spoilers.
Warnings: Sherlock and magic in the same fic has to be a bit cracky, right?
Summary: Greg Lestrade has an unexpected encounter in Chicago - he isn't the only one, either - and discovers there are worse things to deal with than know-it-all consulting detectives.
Disclaimer: The BBC, Mr S Moffat and Mr M Gatiss own this version of Sherlock Holmes though ACD invented him. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden and his universe (although Lionsgate/sci-fi own the tv series).
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.
Title from the song by Muse
A/N: a couple of bookverse cameos sneaked in
Chapter 1 on LJ
Chapter 2 on LJ
Chapter 3 on LJ
Chapter 4 on LJ
Chapter 5 on LJ
Chapter 6 on LJ
(also available on AO3)
~*~
~7~
Harry strode away from the hotel at a ground eating pace. He wasn't entirely certain he would discover anything that he could share with Murphy or not, but which ever way it panned out, time was of the essence. For all Murphy seemed to think that he made a point of finding trouble at times just to annoy her, the opposite was actually true - trouble found him without him actively searching for it; he unfortunately seemed to be a trouble magnet, which was irritating to say the least as it made his job - and life - a lot more difficult. The annoying Murphy part generally happened because of the need to conceal his magical resources, more for her continued sanity than his own as Harry knew he was classed as insane by the majority of the Chicago PD anyway. He'd told the truth when he said he was only going to ask questions and while he assumed Murphy had correctly deduced which organisation he was going to involve, he was sure she hadn't thought of the right person. John Marcone was he guiding hand at the helm of one of Chicago's criminal organisations. Like Crime Lords everywhere, he also had legitimate business interests, including those in technical research and development. Contrary to what he presumed Murphy believed, Harry was not going to involve Marcone in their investigation, at least not directly; he wanted to speak to Marcone's chief of security, who just happened to be a Valkyrie. As such, she straddled both mundane and magical worlds in much the same way that Harry did, but from a very different perspective. If anyone would have an inkling of where to start looking, then it would be Ms Gard and if she didn't, then Harry was sure she would appreciate being alerted to the presence of something that had the potential to cause her a major headache. She would also have no qualms about concealing the reason for his visit from her boss if she deemed it necessary. Harry didn't always agree with Ms Gard, but he appreciated her pragmatism and directness, and it was that pragmatism on which he would rely in order to obtain some sort of answer, preferably one which would give Murphy a way forward with the investigation, and keep her off his back.
He was hopeful that he'd get some sort of answer, for despite the fact there had been a murder, the day had been a good one, and even better, Morgan hadn't shown up to spoil it as was his wont. Maybe, just maybe, today would be his lucky day.
*
Greg cast a longing glance at his empty beer glass, and sighed.
"Coffee?" he asked John, interrupting what sounded like a rather gruesome discussion about medieval war wounds with Bob. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.
"Hmm?"
"Do you want a coffee? I'd rather have another beer, but something tells me that wouldn't be the best of ideas tonight."
"Probably not," John agreed and glanced at his watch. "You're right, coffee wouldn't be a bad idea. Going to be a long night, I think."
"Not for the first time either, even when some of us aren't supposed to be working. To think I have a nice comfortable bed, that I won't see tonight, waiting for me back at my hotel."
"And I've got one upstairs."
Greg raised an eyebrow and smirked at John, while Bob made a sound suspiciously like someone choking - not bad going for a disembodied ghost - as they waited for John to realise what he'd said, and how it could be interpreted. The expression on his face when he did was worth it - Greg very rarely managed to successfully wind John up.
"You know what I mean!"
Greg's smirk devolved into a sigh. "Unfortunately, I do. I blame Sherlock."
John shrugged, with the sort of half exasperated smile on his face that only those who dealt with Sherlock Holmes - or possibly Harry Dresden - seemed to develop. "Why change the habit of a lifetime? Even if it isn't, a lifetime, I mean," he said.
"Seems like it at times. Life before Sherlock often feels like it happened in some sort of weird alternate universe," Greg said.
"Oh I can relate to that, believe me," John agreed. Greg had no doubt that he could, though he was certain that John's life pre-Sherlock had been far more dangerous - and more exciting - than his own. Greg's life was better with Sherlock in it, even if he had far too much grey hair resulting from the headaches - both literal and metaphorical - caused by Sherlock's presence, than it had been previously. He knew John felt no different, in fact had probably gained a lot more from contact with Sherlock than Greg had - he remembered his first meeting with a John who still needed to walk with a stick very clearly - but it didn't stop either of them being exasperated with Sherlock when he seemed to forget that they were mere humans, with human needs.
Greg smiled to himself, in his and John's case a problem shared - Sherlock - was usually a problem doubled, not halved, but at least they had each other's ears when they needed to vent. Greg couldn't help but wonder who was there for Murphy, he couldn't see her discussing half the things he'd witnessed just today with a therapist, no matter how open minded, and she didn't seem to have anyone close enough on her team to act in the capacity that John did for him - and that he did for John - where Sherlock was concerned. Harry at least had Bob, which could well be as much of a curse as it was a blessing, though the two seemed to share some sort of deep connection despite Bob being a ghost; such things were probably less of an issue for a wizard than they would be to someone like Greg. He resolved to stay in touch with Murphy, if she allowed it, once the case and the conference were over and he was back in London. He liked Connie Murphy and, even after just a few short days, he knew he'd miss her if he never heard from her again, plus he didn't think he was deluded when he felt that staying in touch would also be of benefit to her. Time would tell. With a shrug, Greg brought himself back to the present.
"Right, I think I mentioned coffee," he said.
"I'll get it," John offered. Greg shifted in his chair, about to protest that it had been his idea, when John disarmed him with a warm smile. "It's no trouble. Seriously, I could do with stretching my legs and coffee gives me the perfect excuse."
"Okay then."
Greg watched John as he crossed the room, sure enough there was a hint of a limp in his first few steps but it soon disappeared.
"He's a good man," Bob murmured from the confines of his backpack.
"He's a good *friend*," Greg said. "We're lucky, Sherlock and I."
"Yes you are; and don't you forget it." Greg didn't bother trying to hide his grin, Bob wouldn't see it and John would probably assume that it was down to something Bob had said anyway, which was only the truth. There was something oddly comforting about a thousand year old ghost being protective about the person who was possibly the most capable of physically looking after themselves in their little group, though Greg chose not to examine that thought to closely and just settled in to wait for John's return, and that of the much-needed coffee.
Author: Aeron Lanart
Fandoms: Dresden Files (tv verse) and Sherlock (BBC)
Characters/pairing: Harry Dresden, Connie Murphy, Bob, Greg Lestrade, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson
Rating/Spoilers: PG. References to the Dresden Files ep The Boone Identity, no other spoilers.
Warnings: Sherlock and magic in the same fic has to be a bit cracky, right?
Summary: Greg Lestrade has an unexpected encounter in Chicago - he isn't the only one, either - and discovers there are worse things to deal with than know-it-all consulting detectives.
Disclaimer: The BBC, Mr S Moffat and Mr M Gatiss own this version of Sherlock Holmes though ACD invented him. Jim Butcher owns Harry Dresden and his universe (although Lionsgate/sci-fi own the tv series).
No copyright infringement intended, no profit made.
Title from the song by Muse
A/N: a couple of bookverse cameos sneaked in
Chapter 1 on LJ
Chapter 2 on LJ
Chapter 3 on LJ
Chapter 4 on LJ
Chapter 5 on LJ
Chapter 6 on LJ
(also available on AO3)
~*~
~7~
Harry strode away from the hotel at a ground eating pace. He wasn't entirely certain he would discover anything that he could share with Murphy or not, but which ever way it panned out, time was of the essence. For all Murphy seemed to think that he made a point of finding trouble at times just to annoy her, the opposite was actually true - trouble found him without him actively searching for it; he unfortunately seemed to be a trouble magnet, which was irritating to say the least as it made his job - and life - a lot more difficult. The annoying Murphy part generally happened because of the need to conceal his magical resources, more for her continued sanity than his own as Harry knew he was classed as insane by the majority of the Chicago PD anyway. He'd told the truth when he said he was only going to ask questions and while he assumed Murphy had correctly deduced which organisation he was going to involve, he was sure she hadn't thought of the right person. John Marcone was he guiding hand at the helm of one of Chicago's criminal organisations. Like Crime Lords everywhere, he also had legitimate business interests, including those in technical research and development. Contrary to what he presumed Murphy believed, Harry was not going to involve Marcone in their investigation, at least not directly; he wanted to speak to Marcone's chief of security, who just happened to be a Valkyrie. As such, she straddled both mundane and magical worlds in much the same way that Harry did, but from a very different perspective. If anyone would have an inkling of where to start looking, then it would be Ms Gard and if she didn't, then Harry was sure she would appreciate being alerted to the presence of something that had the potential to cause her a major headache. She would also have no qualms about concealing the reason for his visit from her boss if she deemed it necessary. Harry didn't always agree with Ms Gard, but he appreciated her pragmatism and directness, and it was that pragmatism on which he would rely in order to obtain some sort of answer, preferably one which would give Murphy a way forward with the investigation, and keep her off his back.
He was hopeful that he'd get some sort of answer, for despite the fact there had been a murder, the day had been a good one, and even better, Morgan hadn't shown up to spoil it as was his wont. Maybe, just maybe, today would be his lucky day.
*
Greg cast a longing glance at his empty beer glass, and sighed.
"Coffee?" he asked John, interrupting what sounded like a rather gruesome discussion about medieval war wounds with Bob. Sherlock was nowhere to be seen.
"Hmm?"
"Do you want a coffee? I'd rather have another beer, but something tells me that wouldn't be the best of ideas tonight."
"Probably not," John agreed and glanced at his watch. "You're right, coffee wouldn't be a bad idea. Going to be a long night, I think."
"Not for the first time either, even when some of us aren't supposed to be working. To think I have a nice comfortable bed, that I won't see tonight, waiting for me back at my hotel."
"And I've got one upstairs."
Greg raised an eyebrow and smirked at John, while Bob made a sound suspiciously like someone choking - not bad going for a disembodied ghost - as they waited for John to realise what he'd said, and how it could be interpreted. The expression on his face when he did was worth it - Greg very rarely managed to successfully wind John up.
"You know what I mean!"
Greg's smirk devolved into a sigh. "Unfortunately, I do. I blame Sherlock."
John shrugged, with the sort of half exasperated smile on his face that only those who dealt with Sherlock Holmes - or possibly Harry Dresden - seemed to develop. "Why change the habit of a lifetime? Even if it isn't, a lifetime, I mean," he said.
"Seems like it at times. Life before Sherlock often feels like it happened in some sort of weird alternate universe," Greg said.
"Oh I can relate to that, believe me," John agreed. Greg had no doubt that he could, though he was certain that John's life pre-Sherlock had been far more dangerous - and more exciting - than his own. Greg's life was better with Sherlock in it, even if he had far too much grey hair resulting from the headaches - both literal and metaphorical - caused by Sherlock's presence, than it had been previously. He knew John felt no different, in fact had probably gained a lot more from contact with Sherlock than Greg had - he remembered his first meeting with a John who still needed to walk with a stick very clearly - but it didn't stop either of them being exasperated with Sherlock when he seemed to forget that they were mere humans, with human needs.
Greg smiled to himself, in his and John's case a problem shared - Sherlock - was usually a problem doubled, not halved, but at least they had each other's ears when they needed to vent. Greg couldn't help but wonder who was there for Murphy, he couldn't see her discussing half the things he'd witnessed just today with a therapist, no matter how open minded, and she didn't seem to have anyone close enough on her team to act in the capacity that John did for him - and that he did for John - where Sherlock was concerned. Harry at least had Bob, which could well be as much of a curse as it was a blessing, though the two seemed to share some sort of deep connection despite Bob being a ghost; such things were probably less of an issue for a wizard than they would be to someone like Greg. He resolved to stay in touch with Murphy, if she allowed it, once the case and the conference were over and he was back in London. He liked Connie Murphy and, even after just a few short days, he knew he'd miss her if he never heard from her again, plus he didn't think he was deluded when he felt that staying in touch would also be of benefit to her. Time would tell. With a shrug, Greg brought himself back to the present.
"Right, I think I mentioned coffee," he said.
"I'll get it," John offered. Greg shifted in his chair, about to protest that it had been his idea, when John disarmed him with a warm smile. "It's no trouble. Seriously, I could do with stretching my legs and coffee gives me the perfect excuse."
"Okay then."
Greg watched John as he crossed the room, sure enough there was a hint of a limp in his first few steps but it soon disappeared.
"He's a good man," Bob murmured from the confines of his backpack.
"He's a good *friend*," Greg said. "We're lucky, Sherlock and I."
"Yes you are; and don't you forget it." Greg didn't bother trying to hide his grin, Bob wouldn't see it and John would probably assume that it was down to something Bob had said anyway, which was only the truth. There was something oddly comforting about a thousand year old ghost being protective about the person who was possibly the most capable of physically looking after themselves in their little group, though Greg chose not to examine that thought to closely and just settled in to wait for John's return, and that of the much-needed coffee.