C/O 221B Baker Street, Muggle London (Book 2, Ch. 4)
Title: C/O 221B Baker Street, Muggle London
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: PG
Prompt: John and Sherlock are forced to adopt a 7-year-old Harry Potter.
Other: written for an anon for the Sherlock kinkmeme. You can find the original prompt and fill of Book 1 here.
Start from Book 1 here.
Previous chapter here.
After his birthday, suddenly, it was August. Harry could barely believe where the summer had gone. The oppressive heat that was swiftly turning muggy and damp around London only worsened as John sidealong apparated Sherlock and Harry to Diagon Alley. There were so many supplies to buy for the next year. Harry had to stock up on quills, parchment, and ink, not to mention sealing wax for the post and the like.
They made their usual mandatory stop for candy, and Harry swiftly hurried around the shop filling a bag with tiny silver scoops of cockroach clusters, candied plums, sugar quills, and anything else he could get his hands on. John stood by, looking on fondly, and took a small box of wine gums for himself.
The shopgirl seemed to think Harry was the cutest thing she’d seen in years, and her delight was all too easily transferred to John when he stepped over and offered his Gringotts key to pay for the candy. She asked about Harry - seemed thrilled when John said he was adopted - and chattered about wishing she’d had younger siblings to care for, and how she would have to make up for it with a large family one day.
It wasn’t until they were out the door when John noticed that she’d slipped her number into the bag of candy along with the receipt. Sherlock, who had been waiting outside, took one look at John holding the number and sneered. “Charming. Overcome by maternal breeding instincts to the point of throwing herself at you. You reaffirm my faith in humanity, John,” he said pointedly.
“There’s no need to be snippy, Sherlock, it’s just a number.”
“It’s just a number from a girl who dropped out of university to work at a candy shop. She’s affixing her maternal instincts on Harry, and I do not approve of strangers that attempt to win over my son by way of sugar bribes.”
John snorted softly. “Is that so.”
Sherlock scowled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, heading purposefully down the street.
“It wouldn’t have worked. The bribes. Harry loves you, don’t you, Harry?”
“’Course I do!” Harry piped up obediently. He scampered up to walk on one side of Sherlock, hurrying to match Sherlock’s infinitely long gait.
“And I don’t intend to call her. So you shouldn’t worry that either of us are going to disappear.” With that, he crumpled up the receipt that had her number written on it and tossed it into the nearest bin.
The scowl on Sherlock’s face slowly eased off as they walked, but he said nothing further about it.
“Can we stop by Obscurus Books? Please?” Harry begged, and the subject was thoroughly dropped in favor of ogling seductive books hidden in thin layers of dust in dimly-lit bookstores.
Clutching well-filled shopping bags full of books and supplies, they were on their way to Madame Malkin’s to get Harry’s robes resized when a familiar voice shouted from the other side of the street.
“Harry!” Harry’s head automatically snapped up, turning to see who had called out for him. “Over here, Harry!” After a moment, Harry zeroed in on a mop of red hair attached to a cheerily waving arm trying to get his attention. Ron was accompanied by his mother as well as the twins, who were mumbling behind their hands and casting significant glances at a few of the other shop windows.
“Oh, Harry, is that one of your friends from school?” John asked. Sherlock would notice the slightest speck of dust from a mile away at a crime scene, but John was the one who could be counted on to never let a social nuance slip by. “Ron, isn’t it?” John hadn’t met Ron yet, but Harry’s letters were very detailed, and there were only so many first-year Hogwarts students in London with bright red hair and constellations of freckles painted across their faces.
“… Yeah,” Harry said, for lack of a better answer. What was he supposed to say? Yes, that was my friend, Ron, but now he’s thrown me over and completely forgotten to write over the entire summer? Or maybe, No, that’s an alien that’s taken over his body and made him not write to me. Or best of all, perhaps he could just neglect to say a thing at all, just sink into the cobblestones and disappear altogether.
“Well, then let’s go and say hi!” John smiled broadly and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, shepherding them both over. Sherlock stayed behind, tapping something into his cell phone.
“I think we should get to Madame Malkin’s before they close - “
“Nonsense, Harry, they don’t close until 6. Now come on.” His weak attempt failed, Harry let John guide him across the street.
He couldn’t help but think that Ron looked awfully pleased for a boy who had completely abandoned him.
“Hey, Harry!” Ron greeted him enthusiastically.
“Hey,” Harry said flatly.
“Hello, there! You must be Ron, and Mrs. Weasley - and - Fred and George, was it?” John asked. He could keep track of names better than anyone else Harry knew. John had gotten everyone’s names right without ever having met them before; that had to be some kind of record.
“Oh! Yes! You can call me Molly, though.”
John smiled his John smile. “Molly. Pleasure to meet you. I’m John. Heard so much about all of you from Harry.”
“Is that right?” Mrs. Weasley looked pleased. “Ron was all too happy about making friends at Hogwarts.” She paused to cast an eye at the twins. “Not that I would know otherwise, because some around here don’t tell their parents anything.” Fred and George had the good grace to look at least a little sheepish.
John laughed. “Don’t I know it.” A moment later, the two of them were chattering on amiably about children, Hogwarts, and training brooms, as if they had been friends since they were little.
It left Harry and Ron all alone to talk. Harry was not excited.
“So how’s your summer been? Hermione said you two had a lot of fun?”
“Fine.”
Ron looked a little confused by the terse answer, but he plowed valiantly on. “Wish I could tell you my summer was more interesting, but it was pretty boring.”
“Mm.”
“Reckon I was sort of talking about nothing in some of those letters - sorry about that, by the way - but it’s pretty much just been degnoming and hedge trimming for me all summer. Not too exciting.”
“…What?”
“Yeah, they’ve been getting nasty lately; I got out last time without any bites, but Mum keeps sending us back out.”
“No, I mean - you sent me letters?”
“’Course I did, Harry. Never heard back from you, but I figured you were busy working with your dad. S’right, isn’t it?”
“I…” Harry swallowed. Oh, dear. Ron was an awful liar. Harry could see through him in a moment, every time. So he was clearly telling the truth. He had written Harry. And Harry had been blaming him all summer for being an awful friend.
“… Everything all right, Harry?”
Harry licked his lips a moment before replying. “I’m fine. I just never got them. Somebody’s been stealing my post.” That was, then, the only logical solution. If he never got his mail, but Ron had been sending letters diligently all summer - well, the only answer was that something had prevented their arrival. It was only too obvious now, in hindsight. What an idiot he’d been!
“What, stealing your owls? Seriously?”
“Seriously. Something’s going on.”
“Like what? Who would want to take your post?” Ron’s face was screwed up in confusion. Most letters between twelve-year-olds would hardly make for dramatic readings or blackmail material.
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
“This isn’t going to involve giant hellhounds again, is it? Because last time you said you were going to find out, there were giant hellhounds, and I’m not sure I want more giant hellhounds.”
“I’m pretty sure there won’t be any.”
“Right. Then count me in.”
Harry grinned.
“- back before dark!” Mrs. Weasley was finishing up.
“Well! That’s settled, then.” John smiled warmly.
“Sorry, what?” Harry interjected. He’d lost their conversation entirely in favor of talking to Ron.
“You’re coming to visit,” the twins said in chorus.
“Really? Wicked!” Ron cast Harry a mischievous grin.
“Once we’re all done with our shopping, I’ll apparate you to the Weasley home. They’ll bring you back some time after dinner. You have to finish those readings for History of Magic, remember.”
“I remember,” Harry sighed.
“Wonderful!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.
And just like that, their shopping trip expanded from three people to seven. They collected Sherlock from the other side of the street, and off they went to visit the last of the boys’ shops. Somewhere along the way they found Percy in a bookshop, and the eight of them finished off their shopping lists. Then it was time to sidealong apparate out on John’s arm, and when the world twisted itself back into proper shape, he was in the Burrow.
Next chapter here.
Fandom: BBC Sherlock
Pairing: Sherlock/John
Rating: PG
Prompt: John and Sherlock are forced to adopt a 7-year-old Harry Potter.
Other: written for an anon for the Sherlock kinkmeme. You can find the original prompt and fill of Book 1 here.
Start from Book 1 here.
Previous chapter here.
After his birthday, suddenly, it was August. Harry could barely believe where the summer had gone. The oppressive heat that was swiftly turning muggy and damp around London only worsened as John sidealong apparated Sherlock and Harry to Diagon Alley. There were so many supplies to buy for the next year. Harry had to stock up on quills, parchment, and ink, not to mention sealing wax for the post and the like.
They made their usual mandatory stop for candy, and Harry swiftly hurried around the shop filling a bag with tiny silver scoops of cockroach clusters, candied plums, sugar quills, and anything else he could get his hands on. John stood by, looking on fondly, and took a small box of wine gums for himself.
The shopgirl seemed to think Harry was the cutest thing she’d seen in years, and her delight was all too easily transferred to John when he stepped over and offered his Gringotts key to pay for the candy. She asked about Harry - seemed thrilled when John said he was adopted - and chattered about wishing she’d had younger siblings to care for, and how she would have to make up for it with a large family one day.
It wasn’t until they were out the door when John noticed that she’d slipped her number into the bag of candy along with the receipt. Sherlock, who had been waiting outside, took one look at John holding the number and sneered. “Charming. Overcome by maternal breeding instincts to the point of throwing herself at you. You reaffirm my faith in humanity, John,” he said pointedly.
“There’s no need to be snippy, Sherlock, it’s just a number.”
“It’s just a number from a girl who dropped out of university to work at a candy shop. She’s affixing her maternal instincts on Harry, and I do not approve of strangers that attempt to win over my son by way of sugar bribes.”
John snorted softly. “Is that so.”
Sherlock scowled and stuffed his hands in his pockets, heading purposefully down the street.
“It wouldn’t have worked. The bribes. Harry loves you, don’t you, Harry?”
“’Course I do!” Harry piped up obediently. He scampered up to walk on one side of Sherlock, hurrying to match Sherlock’s infinitely long gait.
“And I don’t intend to call her. So you shouldn’t worry that either of us are going to disappear.” With that, he crumpled up the receipt that had her number written on it and tossed it into the nearest bin.
The scowl on Sherlock’s face slowly eased off as they walked, but he said nothing further about it.
“Can we stop by Obscurus Books? Please?” Harry begged, and the subject was thoroughly dropped in favor of ogling seductive books hidden in thin layers of dust in dimly-lit bookstores.
Clutching well-filled shopping bags full of books and supplies, they were on their way to Madame Malkin’s to get Harry’s robes resized when a familiar voice shouted from the other side of the street.
“Harry!” Harry’s head automatically snapped up, turning to see who had called out for him. “Over here, Harry!” After a moment, Harry zeroed in on a mop of red hair attached to a cheerily waving arm trying to get his attention. Ron was accompanied by his mother as well as the twins, who were mumbling behind their hands and casting significant glances at a few of the other shop windows.
“Oh, Harry, is that one of your friends from school?” John asked. Sherlock would notice the slightest speck of dust from a mile away at a crime scene, but John was the one who could be counted on to never let a social nuance slip by. “Ron, isn’t it?” John hadn’t met Ron yet, but Harry’s letters were very detailed, and there were only so many first-year Hogwarts students in London with bright red hair and constellations of freckles painted across their faces.
“… Yeah,” Harry said, for lack of a better answer. What was he supposed to say? Yes, that was my friend, Ron, but now he’s thrown me over and completely forgotten to write over the entire summer? Or maybe, No, that’s an alien that’s taken over his body and made him not write to me. Or best of all, perhaps he could just neglect to say a thing at all, just sink into the cobblestones and disappear altogether.
“Well, then let’s go and say hi!” John smiled broadly and put a hand on Harry’s shoulder, shepherding them both over. Sherlock stayed behind, tapping something into his cell phone.
“I think we should get to Madame Malkin’s before they close - “
“Nonsense, Harry, they don’t close until 6. Now come on.” His weak attempt failed, Harry let John guide him across the street.
He couldn’t help but think that Ron looked awfully pleased for a boy who had completely abandoned him.
“Hey, Harry!” Ron greeted him enthusiastically.
“Hey,” Harry said flatly.
“Hello, there! You must be Ron, and Mrs. Weasley - and - Fred and George, was it?” John asked. He could keep track of names better than anyone else Harry knew. John had gotten everyone’s names right without ever having met them before; that had to be some kind of record.
“Oh! Yes! You can call me Molly, though.”
John smiled his John smile. “Molly. Pleasure to meet you. I’m John. Heard so much about all of you from Harry.”
“Is that right?” Mrs. Weasley looked pleased. “Ron was all too happy about making friends at Hogwarts.” She paused to cast an eye at the twins. “Not that I would know otherwise, because some around here don’t tell their parents anything.” Fred and George had the good grace to look at least a little sheepish.
John laughed. “Don’t I know it.” A moment later, the two of them were chattering on amiably about children, Hogwarts, and training brooms, as if they had been friends since they were little.
It left Harry and Ron all alone to talk. Harry was not excited.
“So how’s your summer been? Hermione said you two had a lot of fun?”
“Fine.”
Ron looked a little confused by the terse answer, but he plowed valiantly on. “Wish I could tell you my summer was more interesting, but it was pretty boring.”
“Mm.”
“Reckon I was sort of talking about nothing in some of those letters - sorry about that, by the way - but it’s pretty much just been degnoming and hedge trimming for me all summer. Not too exciting.”
“…What?”
“Yeah, they’ve been getting nasty lately; I got out last time without any bites, but Mum keeps sending us back out.”
“No, I mean - you sent me letters?”
“’Course I did, Harry. Never heard back from you, but I figured you were busy working with your dad. S’right, isn’t it?”
“I…” Harry swallowed. Oh, dear. Ron was an awful liar. Harry could see through him in a moment, every time. So he was clearly telling the truth. He had written Harry. And Harry had been blaming him all summer for being an awful friend.
“… Everything all right, Harry?”
Harry licked his lips a moment before replying. “I’m fine. I just never got them. Somebody’s been stealing my post.” That was, then, the only logical solution. If he never got his mail, but Ron had been sending letters diligently all summer - well, the only answer was that something had prevented their arrival. It was only too obvious now, in hindsight. What an idiot he’d been!
“What, stealing your owls? Seriously?”
“Seriously. Something’s going on.”
“Like what? Who would want to take your post?” Ron’s face was screwed up in confusion. Most letters between twelve-year-olds would hardly make for dramatic readings or blackmail material.
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find out.”
“This isn’t going to involve giant hellhounds again, is it? Because last time you said you were going to find out, there were giant hellhounds, and I’m not sure I want more giant hellhounds.”
“I’m pretty sure there won’t be any.”
“Right. Then count me in.”
Harry grinned.
“- back before dark!” Mrs. Weasley was finishing up.
“Well! That’s settled, then.” John smiled warmly.
“Sorry, what?” Harry interjected. He’d lost their conversation entirely in favor of talking to Ron.
“You’re coming to visit,” the twins said in chorus.
“Really? Wicked!” Ron cast Harry a mischievous grin.
“Once we’re all done with our shopping, I’ll apparate you to the Weasley home. They’ll bring you back some time after dinner. You have to finish those readings for History of Magic, remember.”
“I remember,” Harry sighed.
“Wonderful!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed.
And just like that, their shopping trip expanded from three people to seven. They collected Sherlock from the other side of the street, and off they went to visit the last of the boys’ shops. Somewhere along the way they found Percy in a bookshop, and the eight of them finished off their shopping lists. Then it was time to sidealong apparate out on John’s arm, and when the world twisted itself back into proper shape, he was in the Burrow.
Next chapter here.