Title: John, I'm a Wizard
Fandoms: BBC!Sherlock/Harry Potter
Pairings: Pre-slash and slash Johnlock, established Mystrade, established Drarry
Author: Z-sama (dA user the-lady-harkness) and TWTL
Beta: Phil the Sherlotter
WARNINGS: See first chapter for all the warnings.
MISC: Thank you all so much for following and faving our story! We're so glad you liked it, and that we could entertain all of you for so long. Please see author notes at the end for some additional info and stuff! ... Also, this fic is up on tumblr with BONUS CONTENT. God help us all... sherlockmalfoy . tumblr .com
LAST LITTLE NOTE: Remember... o0o denotes scene changes. the lines across the page denote time period changes. it's pretty straight forward.
Baker Street, well 221 at least, was in disarray. Objects flew up and down the stairs on their own. Newly turned 6 year olds ducked out of the way before finally finding cover from the floating furniture.
Amongst the chaos Sherlock paced back and forth in the living room, a child aged only a few months in his arms. Wrapped in scraps of John's favorite jumpers sewn together to make a rather cozy blanket. "I can't think with all this madness!"
"Not my fault!" John shouted over the clatter of dishes cleaning themselves in the kitchen.
"I know!" Sherlock shouted back, trying his best to soothe his upset child. It was difficult, having a baby that didn't make a single sound. It meant not being able to pick up on verbal cues and specific noises to deduce what may be wrong.
"Here! Take him!" Sherlock shouted, handing the baby off to John.
"What should I do? We've fed him, changed him, bathed him, tried to put him down for a nap, played with him! He's not got a fever! And-"
"I don't know! You'll think of something!" he shouted back as he pulled out his wand, dashing out the door into the stairwell.
Something had to be done to stay this chaos. Once the twins' room had been emptied and refilled with furniture they'd had in their bedroom for Hamish, the door had slammed shut. He continued upstairs, to the attic room where Harriet and Hudson's belongings had been sent flying. The twins themselves were crowded into the corner of the landing, their eyes wide in a mixture of confusion and surprise. When the strangeness had begun the pair of them had been in their room, quietly studying. Not bothering anyone really.
"Are you alright?" their father asked, kneeling down to examine them closely. They silently nodded as the last piece of their furniture, a silk screen divider their grandfather had given them for their birthday, slid into place to separate the two sides of the large space.
Below there sounded a loud, obnoxious pounding on the front door. Sherlock stood and leaned over the railing. "Go away!" he shouted. "We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or scheming relations today!"
John's head popped into view as he looked up over the rail at the B level. "That's not how it goes! I should never have let you watch that film before bed."
"Just get the door while I sort all this out!"
Sherlock bounded back down the stairs, back to the B level and into the flat where the kitchen was still reorganizing itself. He peered through the sliding partition to see that now the living room was shuffling itself about.
John, when Sherlock had bounded down, had maneuvered out of the way with an ease that can only come from years of marriage and child wrangling (some of the time at crime scenes), so as not to be knocked over. He made his way downstairs, having to adjust his hold on an impatient and wiggling baby while attempting to open the door just as another round of banging began. "Yes! Hold on!" he shouted at the still closed door, as at the last moment the baby had decided he didn't want to be held the way he was being held, and John needed both arms to keep from dropping him.
"Sherlock! Have you got it sorted yet!?"
There was a loud crash, followed by a round of swearing that would have made even the boys and girls down at the yard quite proud. Then, after that, a resounding call of "Mischief managed!" That phrase had become, not long after bringing their troublesome infant into the muggle world, their most used statement for dealing with the unexplainable and quite chaotic bursts of accidental magic the little boy seemed to set off.
Though, this had been the worst case of it yet.
John sighed in relief and finally managed to open the door to find a startling sight.
It was, in fact, the last thing he ever expected to see when he opened his front door. And he had quite a wide range of imaginary (or possibly quite real and Sherlock hadn't bothered to tell him about them yet) things that could have been there to face him. But this was definitely not it.
There, with her fist raised to bang on the door again, was his sister Harriet. His sister, who had run off to God only knows in Germany after he'd moved off her sofa and in with Mary. His sister who had dropped off the face of the planet to live in a hippie commune with her latest girlfriend who, according to Harriet, was the love of her life and she couldn't live without her.
And at her feet were a suitcase and a rucksack.
"I checked the blog to see where you'd moved to. So, you're back here," she said, eyeing the baby in his arms suspiciously.
While he was glad to see his sister was alive and well after not hearing from her for years, he really didn't have the time or the patience to deal with whatever drama it was she currently dragged around with her. Even if she had obviously been kicked out of where ever it had been she'd got to.
"You broke it off after you caught her cheating. Longer relationship than your marriage, so you were obviously heartbroken. Angry as well judging by the fact you left all your other belongings behind, taking only what you could carry."
"Sherlock, now isn't really the time-"
"You've been out of the country for years, so obviously you need a place to stay. Low on funds, otherwise you would have booked a room in a cheap motel for a few days while you cleaned yourself up and made to be presentable." Sherlock's nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. Then, he gave a glance to John before continuing. "You smell of cigarettes and cheap beer. We're full up. Go away."
"Sherlock!" John exclaimed. "She's my sister and she needs-"
"And clearly she isn't in a fit state to be around children, of which we have three, at this point in time. Give me Hamish and send her away." With that, Sherlock plucked the clearly amused child (if his chubby little grin was anything to go by) from his husband's arms and hurried up the seventeen stairs to B level.
"John?" His sister was clearly not expecting that. She'd said she had checked his blog, assuming he'd post about where he lived at some point. Clearly she had realized he'd moved back to Baker Street, and if she'd paid any attention she'd have noticed he still posted about Sherlock's cases.
What he never, ever posted about, was his family. It just wasn't on. His marriage, and especially his children, were not on display for the public. Especially after they had turned so viciously on them before with the Richard Brook scandal. So of course, John realized, she'd not know anything about them. Nor the fact he wasn't with the woman she'd left him with.
"I thought- But he was dead- And you met that girl and-"
John sighed, stepping outside and pulling the door closed behind him. "Let's sit next door and I'll get your a sandwich."
"A sandwich? A sandwich isn't going to explain-"
He put a hand on his older sister's shoulder. He'd sometimes discussed with Mycroft what he'd eventually have to tell his sister. Of course, he'd have to modify a few things. Such as the connection to Harry Potter, as mummy was one to be left alone whenever possible. But in the end, Mycroft had reluctantly agreed that should Harriet Watson ever turn up again, she'd have to know why her niece and nephews would occasionally turn her sofa into a fish tank or other such unexplainable phenomena.
"Harriet," John said. "Right now the most important thing you need to know is that I married a wizard. I don't care if you don't believe me. Right now he's very annoyed with you, but he's never really liked you much anyway. So it's best we go next door before he does something I'm going to need to shout at him for later." He let his hand fall away as he bent down to grasp the handle of her suitcase.
"A wizard. Yes." He picked up her case and started down the steps. "It started about six months after Sherlock came back from his fake death. We were just wrapping up a case. Sherlock was doing one final experiment in the kitchen. And then the owl came..."
So here we are, friends. The epilogue. This is it for the story of when John found out Sherlock was a wizard, as well as the tale of how they came to finally tell it. Originally this fic was to be about 1-2 more chapters longer than this, but due to some sudden family crisis (both writers are in the same family) we made the executive decision to hammer out a final chapter and an epilogue in order to save this fic from landing in Unfinished Fanfic Limbo. We just couldn't do that to you guys - and we couldn't do that to ourselves. There was a scene between Harry and John, where they talk about parenting and Hudson, but it had to be cut. It was not fully developed yet, and we couldn't bring it from the roughs and into the fic proper without difficulty. It will be included as a bonus drabble, along with another currently unwritten but it's still a fun idea drabble, exclusive to the PDF download version once we get that put together and sorted.
We'd like to thank all of you for sticking with us this long. We've got another fic in this universe that's been developing for a while, and we'll do our best to work and write around our little crisis to bring this other fic to you. Basically, it's about Harry and Draco, and how they hooked up in 6th year and where our crossover AU starts to go, well, AU. So be on the lookout for it!