Summary: When Harry needed help the most, Sherlock was there to offer him a safe(ish) home and so much more. Things get very stressful between the men as baby Teddy is placed in their care. Perhaps John can be the peacekeeper between them…crappy summary is crap.
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Harry Potter. I wish I did, that would be a beautiful thing.
Warnings: Slash, Mpreg (honestly, when do my stories not have Mpreg in them?) with mentions of past Mpreg, Preg, Threesomes, mentions of abortion, AU set after the Deathly Hallows and at the beginning of Sherlock, John is a muggleborn wizard, Sherlock and Mycroft are Purebloods, Dumbledore bashing, Teddy is still Remus and Tonks' son, OOC (though I will do my best to keep them in character as often as I can), John is in denial about his sexuality, and Sherlock and Harry's relationship is…interesting.
Pairings: Sherlock/John/Harry (Pockson!), Mystrade, Fred/George/Draco, Ron/Hermione, Neville/Blaise, Luna/Charlie
To say that John Watson was surprised when he first entered 221B Baker Street for the first time would be an understatement. There were papers, baby necessities (i.e. nappies, bottles, clothes), and…were those human body parts?
Yes, John Watson's first impression of 221B was that a family of clinically insane people lived there.
However, all of that changed when Mrs. Hudson walked into the room. The kind woman gave him a smile, instantly calming him.
"Oh Sherlock, the mess you've made!" She said while walking into the kitchen.
Sherlock made some sort of reply, not that John had heard him. He was busy staring at the young man who was standing in the doorway. He was short (maybe about an inch or two shorter than John), with shoulder length black hair pulled back by a green ribbon, pale skin, thin frame, and wide, green eyes. His pink lips stretched into a lovely smile (which certainly did not make John's breath catch. He was straight thank you very much!) when their eyes connected. He walked up to John and extended his hand, careful not to drop the spit-up stained cloth that was draped over his shoulder.
John clasped his hand and introduced himself. "Ah, hello. John Watson."
The man smiled a bit brighter. "Oh yes, Doctor Watson. Sherlock did say that you would be coming by today. I'm Harry Potter. Sorry I didn't meet you at the door but my son Teddy needed to be put down for a rest. And…oh…" The man-Harry Potter!-trailed off and started to look uncomfortable. It may have been because John's eyes had nearly bugged out of his head, in fact, John thought that it probably was the reason.
Harry Potter, the savior of the Wizarding world, was living in 221B with Sherlock Holmes! John had heard all about Harry Potter, being a muggleborn wizard. He had pitied the poor boy from the start. Nothing had gone right for him. He hadn't believed a word that that crap newspaper The Daily Prophet. John had been more than willing to fight in the Wizarding War, but Afghanistan needed him more. All of those poor muggles who were dying because they weren't given the best care that they could get. Not that John was being conceited or anything but his level of expertise was a lot higher than most. He didn't use spells, just small doses of potions that worked wonders. There were more than enough qualified Med-Wizards running about Britain for the war.
Because of his drifting thoughts, he almost missed the scowl that showed up on Harry's face. "Sherlock Holmes, what the hell have I told you about keeping the house clean when expecting guests?" Harry hissed.
Sherlock shrugged. "You tell me lots of things, but have I ever been known to listen?" It was more of a statement really, since Sherlock was busy wandering the flat, looking at all of his belongings.
Harry rolled his eyes and with a flick of his wrist, the garbage and the papers and Teddy's things were flying about, getting into their rightful places.
"Don't mess up my experiments Harry."
"Had you put them somewhere safer earlier this wouldn't be happening. I told you yesterday to clean up."
"And I did. I also told you that these were important experiments."
The argument dropped. John was amazed at how they acted towards each other. Sherlock gave off the impression that he was a hard man to get along with. Surprise right? What with all of the crazy shit everywhere that just screamed 'mad scientist'. One look at Harry Potter and John's mind listed several medical problems with him. PTSD, Malnutrition, possible (more than likely, given the few scars that he could see peeking out from under his shirt) abuse, slight trust issues (if John's reaction to his name was anything to go by), and overall exhaustion. There couldn't be a stranger mix anywhere.
John sat himself down on one of the chairs and watched as the room cleaned itself. "So, I looked you up last night. The –ah- Science of Deduction was it?" Harry and Sherlock stopped what they were doing and stared at him. Harry, he noted, looked mildly amused while Sherlock looked curious.
"And what did you think?" Sherlock asked. John gave a disbelieving look.
"You said you can tell a software designer by his tie."
"Yes. It's simple really. I could read you military career in your face and your leg, and your brother's drinking habits from your mobile phone. "
Sherlock stared at the doctor with a slight smirk on his face. He opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted.
"Sherlock, don't overload the man." Harry chuckled. It was normal for people to doubt Sherlock's abilities when it came to deduction, then Sherlock would prove to them that he was in fact accurate and then he would be yelled at and things turned for the worst. Harry didn't want there to any bad blood between Sherlock and their new flatmate. "Trust me, Dr. Watson –"
"Call me John, please."
"Trust me John when I tell you that everything this man says is true. If it wasn't for him, well, the war wouldn't be over." John's eyes widen marginally at that. He hadn't known that Sherlock Holmes had a part to play in the ending of the war. It wasn't in any books, or papers; in fact the only thing that was known about the end of the war was that Voldemort was destroyed by Harry. "He can give you a demonstration later, but right now is not the time."
The three were silent until Mrs. Hudson came in, newspaper in hand. "What do you think of these suicides Sherlock? Thought it'd be right up your alley. Three exactly the same-" Sherlock looked at something down on the street from the window.
"There's been a fourth."
They didn't wait for him to elaborate because they heard hurried footsteps coming up the stairs. Greg Lestrade looked out of breath and anxious as he walked through the doorway.
"Where?" Sherlock asked.
"Brixton, Lauriston Gardens."
"What's different about this one?"
"This one left a note." Sherlock looked unimpressed while the D.I. was there. Harry and Mrs. Hudson exchanged nervous glances. "Will you come?"
Sherlock thought it over. "Who's on forensics?"
"It's Anderson." John was very curious at the two groans the names received.
"He doesn't work well with me." Sherlock pointed out, looking a bit more than aggravated.
It was decided, though, that Sherlock would go to the crime scene. Lestrade bid the other three goodbye before he ran back downstairs. Sherlock stood still, watching the man leave. He made no movements until the door clicked shut. John wasn't sure what scared him more: the abrupt attitude change or the fact that the man was so excited over a serial suicide.
"Brilliant!" Sherlock yelled as he jumped in the air. He danced around the room, taking Harry with him and spinning him in circles, as he chatted away. "Four suicides and now a note! Ah! It's Christmas!" They stopped dancing, much to the amusement of the smaller man, and Sherlock pressed a chaste kiss to Harry's lips. He grabbed his coat and made his way to the door. "Mrs. Hudson, I'll be late. I might need some food."
"I'm your Landlady dear, not your housekeeper." Harry assured her with a smile that he would take care of it if Sherlock needed food. Sherlock ignored them and continued talking.
"Something cold will do. John, have a cup of tea, make yourself at home. Don't wait up!" With that, the consulting detective was gone.
John was confused. What just happened?
"Look at him," Mrs. Hudson said. "Dashing about. My husband was just the same. But, you're more the sitting down type, I can tell." Harry chuckled at the comment. John shifted awkwardly. "I'll make you that cuppa, you just rest your leg."
"Damn my leg!" The outburst caused Mrs. Hudson to jump and Harry to flinch. Regret flashed through John and he apologized.
"Don't worry about." Harry told him with a smile. Mrs. Hudson went back to getting the tea. Harry sat in the seat across from John, quietly observing him. John fidgeted and grabbed the newspaper to distract himself from those green eyes.
"So, um, how do you know Sherlock?" He asked without looking up. The front page of the paper was rather interesting, it described the suicides that had been going on, but what had John's attention the most was the picture of the man. It was Detective Inspector Lestrade, the same man that had just left moments ago. What did the DI need Sherlock Holmes for?
"We're engaged, unofficially." John's head snapped up. Engaged?
Harry laughed. "Why does everybody ask me that? Yes I'm serious. Sherlock and I have a special relationship, most people wouldn't understand…" He trailed off. The fondness of his tone made John stop and think. Sherlock Holmes must not be as crazy as he originally thought.
"When did you meet."
There was a smile on the young man's face, but he shook his head. "I'm afraid, John that that is a story for another time. For now, I think Sherlock would like to ask you something." Harry pointed to the doorway where Sherlock was watching the two with a calculating look.
"You're a doctor." He said to John. "Yes, you're an army doctor."
John used his cane to push himself up. "Yes."
"Any good." John could swear that he heard Harry mumble something around the lines of 'like you don't already have an answer to that'.
"Very good." The words were stressed, showing that John was well aware of his medical skills.
Looking off into the distance, Sherlock slowly walked into the room and continued talking. "Seen a lot of injuries then. Violent deaths." Sherlock was right in front of the doctor, staring at him in a way that made John slightly nervous.
"Um, yes. I've seen enough to last me a life time."
"Want to see some more?"
John didn't even hesitate. "Oh god yes." Both Harry and Sherlock chuckled at John's eagerness.
Sherlock glanced in Harry's direction and sent him a small wave. "Sorry Harry, I'd ask you to come but I know that you're terribly busy taking care of Theodore." The man said in a mock-upset tone. For a moment John was worried that he had accidentally caused a fight between the two.
"Stop it Sherlock. You're acting like a baby. Teddy's…sick. You know that I would be out there in a heartbeat if I could. Teddy will be fine tomorrow so the next time you want me to I can go running off with you to find a murderer. Take John and please try not to hex Anderson." Harry growled. Without so much as a 'see you later' he got up and walked out of the room.
Oh…perhaps there was a bit of tension between the two men.
I was going to continue the chapter, but I don't have the patience right now. Sorry.