Harry stared at the sight of John falling abruptly to the floor. Judging by Sherlock's look of utter disbelief, Harry felt it was safe to say that John didn't faint in shock often.

Unfortunately, John hit his head on the table edge falling down and it appeared to knock him unconscious; his head landing in Harry's spit out tea.

"I must say this is a first" Sherlock said, the amusement clear in his voice. "He'll be most embarrassed when he wakes" Sherlock exclaimed gleefully. "And what perfect blackmail material this will be!" Harry heard Sherlock mutter in an undertone, to himself more than Harry.

Harry stared at Sherlock's blatant lack of concern for John's welfare, as well as totally ignoring the implications of what he had just said.

He stood up, and stepped over the table, to look at John on the floor. In honesty, he wasn't sure what to do, so he rolled him over, to make sure he was at least breathing. Knowing it would be futile to try and lift the man onto the sofa, Harry placed a couple of cushions on the floor for John's head to rest on, satisfied at what he'd done.

Turning round, he noticed Sherlock had just walked out of the room, as if announcing he was his father was a completely normal thing to say in a conversation.

Scanning the layout of the room, it was safe to presume Sherlock had walked into the kitchen. The banging a moment later, confirmed this thought. He walked angrily up to Sherlock, so blindsided by his emotions he failed to notice the frozen fingers on the side nor the toes in various cups which would have cemented Harry's belief that Sherlock was a serial killer.

"How dare you. How dare you! How could you do such a thing?"

Sherlock just leant against the counter as calm or as cold as could be which made Harry more infuriated.

"Stop this internal crisis that you're about to have. I am not your father".

Harry stopped in his tracks, his rage suddenly dispelling. He relaxed visibly, relieved that his mother had not had an affair. He didn't want his perception of his parents to be shattered like Aunt Petunia had tried so hard to do. A small, small part of him though was disappointed, which made him feel instantly ashamed.

"We are related though."

This got Harry's full attention back on Sherlock and waited for him to explain.

"Your father and I were cousins; your grandmother Dorea, and my mother were sisters. So, we are technically first cousins once removed. Although, all the purebloods are related in some way or other."

Harry was stunned. Until now, he didn't know his father had any other family: he thought the Dursley's were all he had. The thought of the Dursley's pricked a trigger in his head: "Do I have more family? Why, was I left with the Dursleys then? Did you leave me there?"

"After the deaths of your parents" Sherlock begun and stopped when he noticed Harry's eyes widen.

"Yes, I know about that. Of course I'd know. Have you just missed the last few minutes of this conversation? Anyway, I was actually living with your parents that year; my parents had died a couple of years ago. The war caused many deaths, so many that the purebloods are near extinct nowadays."

"I was away at Hogwarts- a wizarding school when it happened so I couldn't have taken you in because I would have been sixteen at the time and you'd already been taken away by the time I could protest. Do you know, I wasn't allowed to even see you, for your own 'protection', when you were growing up in case other's found out. And, ironically it turns out; you should have been protected from the people, who were supposed to protect you."

Harry stared numbly, his brain trying to process what had been said, unsure where to start.

"Why did you say you were my father though?"

Sherlock lit up immediately at the question and grinned delightedly. "Don't you see? It's the perfect disguise, the alarm will have been raised at the Dursley's so, everyone will be out searching for you. But nobody would suspect the newly found son of mine, whose mother suddenly died and is therefore, placed in my care. It's ingenious."

The man looked so pleased at this plan it was a surprise that he didn't break out into some sort of dance.

Sherlock stopped and scrutinised Harry: "We'll have to change your appearance though; there's not enough of the Black resemblance in you, you look too much like the Potter's."

"What if… what if I don't want to be changed?" Harry said hesitantly, watching Sherlock's manic expression dissolve and go immediately blank: blank and impenetrable.

Sherlock rattled off apathetically: "You'll be forced to go back to the Dursley's for the summer and then you'll have to attend Hogwarts. Dumbledore will carefully mould you into the perfect weapon throughout your years so you'll be able to fight against the darkest wizard of all time and, you'll have your whole life mapped out for you. If you choose to stay with me however, you can excitement and adventure, and so much more."

Carefully, Sherlock reached out to guide Harry around the objects that littered the floor and sat him back down on the sofa, ignoring John's still form. Sherlock quickly grabbed a chair from the kitchen and placed it directly in front of Harry.

"What happens if I choose to stay then?"

"You'll become my son. Like I said earlier, it really is the perfect disguise, especially if your appearance is changed."

"Is it permanent?" he asked warily.

Sherlock sighed. "It would be permanent, you couldn't change back to who you are now; your very DNA would be changed as well. That being said, your appearance wouldn't be too startling to you as we already look vaguely similar now".

Sherlock watched Harry debate it internally before, he nodded gently.

"Excellent!" Sherlock boomed and got out his wand and directed it at Harry.

"Wait!" Harry cried.

Sherlock glanced at him questioningly.

He blushed, at how this was going to sound but asked anyway: "Do you promise me you're not a murderer?"

Sherlock laughed, genuinely amused. "I give you my word, that I don't kill people. I help catch murderers which is why I have body parts littered around the flat."

"Body parts?" Harry cried out alarmed.

"Oh. You didn't notice it then? Never mind! So, are you sure you want to do the spell?"

"Yes" he murmured and braced himself for pain presumably and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Mutare speciem aeternum!" he heard Sherlock cry.

The effect was instantaneous. He could feel his nose shooting forward, his cheekbones pushing outwards; his lips becoming fuller. It didn't hurt, but it felt so very bizarre.

He opened his eyes and found to his delight that he could see so much clearer, and was it just him or was he a lot taller now? Glancing down he noticed that he was still as thin as ever.

He glanced at Sherlock and saw the man look at him in amazement.

"It's uncanny. Really, quite remarkable. And, I see you suffered no side-effects." He proclaimed proudly.

"You mean it could have gone wrong?" Harry exclaimed disbelieving and then stopped when he heard the difference in his voice. It sounded… richer, and slightly lower. How strange.

Sherlock side-stepped the question. "Would you like to see a mirror?"

Harry was still stood at the mirror in the bathroom ten minutes later, staring at his new features.

His hair was much darker, an inky black and curled just like Sherlock's. His cheekbones stuck out and his nose was perfectly straight. Harry was glad to note that although, his eyesight was now improved, Sherlock hadn't altered the colour of his eyes. The greenness of his eyes now contrasted magnificently with his hair colour and his pale complexion. All in all he looked very… aristocratic.

He stopped this assessment of his features because he could hear Sherlock's footsteps pounding closer before bursting into the bathroom itself.

"Lestrade, a police officer, is coming up, so you must stay put." Sherlock whispered the words urgently before propelling himself out of the bathroom and into the lounge.

Harry swiftly shut the door.

He stared round the room, having been focusing on his features before, rather than the décor. The bathroom was large and spacious and very clean; a massive contrast to the living room and somehow Harry doubted that John left that much clutter lying around. There were toothbrushes, toothpaste and soap above the sink, all the usual things found in a bathroom. There was also a large window above the sink which he wandered over to and opened.

He stuck his head out, letting the cold air wash over his face. It was a pleasant feeling and Harry liked being this high up and seeing his surroundings. The view however wasn't great and all Harry could make out was the side of the flat and some flats in the distance.

So, Sherlock probably lived in a big city then. Most likely London. What was he doing this morning then, in a primary school in Surrey? It was something he planned to ask the man as soon as this man- Lestrade, left.

The noise of footsteps pounding up stairs caught Harry's attention amongst the noise of the cars outside. There were more than one sets of footsteps, that was for certain, possibly two or three.

Either way, it peaked Harry's curiosity as he heard footsteps actually come into the flat and he wanted to hear what they said. He quickly made his way over the door to listen.

Harry could hear someone open the door and put his head against the door in order to hear better.

"Lestrade, it was the headmaster at the school. He killed Alan Worth in a fit of anger. The man had an affair with his wife. A waste of my time" he heard Sherlock speak arrogantly. Sherlock sounded different like this, colder and more analytical.

Mr Worth had been killed by the headmaster? Poor Mr Worth, Harry thought mournfully. The headmaster had always struck him as a cold and cruel man. He'd always ignored Dudley bullying others, particularly when it was directed towards him. Harry was glad that he'd been caught.

"How did you- Oh never mind. I presume you have evidence." the newcomer- Lestrade? said exasperatedly.

Harry could hear the door being opened again and more people entering the flat.

"Knowing the freak, it was probably due to the tie he wore" another voice cried out sarcastically. It was definitely a female.

Wait, wait, wait. Freak? How dare they call Sherlock that! How dare they insult anyone like that! It made Harry's blood boil and he'd be tempted to go out there if not for the fact Sherlock had specifically told him to stay put.

"Donovan, as always it's a pleasure. I see Anderson broke up with you again, that must've been embarrassing, knowing that even Anderson can't put up with you. Lestrade, I'm dreadfully busy at the moment and you appear to have no cases with you. What are you doing here?" Sherlock's rich baritone conveyed nothing but contempt for Donovan and Harry was glad he stuck up for himself. The again, Harry couldn't imagine him doing otherwise.

"We are doing a drugs bust, Holmes." Lestrade spoke wearily.

"You know I'm clean. And, I don't appreciate you holding pretend drugs busts. Particularly right now. So, I'm asking you to leave."

Lestrade side-stepped the question and said: "You must have procured some evidence from the Worth case or you wouldn't be back from Surrey so early, therefore this is an impromptu drugs bust".

"Bad timing I'm afra-

What have you done to John?" cried the female voice in alarm.

Ooops! Harry had completely forgotten about John's unconscious state and he must have been out for at least.. thirty minutes.

"Christ Sherlock!"

"He fainted" Sherlock replied coolly. "He'll both most embarrassed when he wakes up, I'm sure."

"And, you were just planning to leave him there?" cried the female indignantly.

"Of course not. I estimated when he'd wake up, in fact he'll be conscious in a minute".

"I'm sure the freak did that to him sir".

There was that word again! Were these police officers no better than childhood bullies? Harry thought disdainfully.


"John! What happened?"

So John was ok then. Harry was relieved.

"Sherlock, where's he gone?" cried John in alarm.

"Who?" inquired Lestrade.

"He was there. Right there. Sprayed the tea. He stabbed you!"

"Who stabbed you, you weren't being attacked were you?" Lestrade asked, alarmed.

"Of course not. I'm perfectly fine." Sherlock replied arrogantly.

"Sir, he's lying! The bandage on his arm's still bleeding!"

"I must insist you leave right now." Sherlock's rich baritone was heard clearly above the rest.

"What's going on Holmes?" Lestrade began, walking round slowly.

Harry could hear someone near the bathroom door and quickly stumbled backwards. In his haste, he tripped and fell heavily into the side of the bath.

"Sir, there's someone in there!" It was a male voice, a newcomer Harry figured.

Harry picked himself up and resignedly headed to the door and opened it just as someone apparently tried to reach for the door handle which resulted in them falling to the floor.

"Whoops?" he said, amusedly.

The man on the floor smiled slightly to show he wasn't bitter about it. Slightly relieved, Harry extended a hand to help the man up.

"Thanks" he said as he stood up and motioned for Harry to exit the bathroom.

Slowly, stepping out, Harry could see a man and a woman staring at him in blatant shock.

"Holmes… who is this?" asked Lestrade.

He looked friendly, Harry decided. An open weathered face and he was obviously Lestrade, the man Sherlock had mentioned.

"This is my son, Harry" Sherlock declared.

The woman and the man stared at him in horror, as if expecting to him to spontaneously combust or to start attacking them frenziedly.

John meanwhile, stared at him curiously before Harry remembered that Sherlock had done something to his face.

Hope you like the chapter!

Also, I'm unsure whether to make John a wizard or any other sort of magical creature like a werewolf. Any suggestions would be great and really appreciated.