Hello Lovlies. I will be boring and redunent for a moment; forgive me. Hem. I do not own Sherlock nor Harry Potter. I just think it would be wicked if they lived in the same world. Now that that's done with; I know this is short and seems to hold no relevance, but it does later. For those who are new to my work. This does contain slash, and it will be very dark in places. Some of you may end up very unhappy for what I do to Harry, but I just wanted to try my hand at this particular situation. Also, the mpreg comes later. Harry's name does change but you'll understand why. If you can't handle this after the first couple chapters, that's okay but don't waste your time and mine by flaming me about this. I published this. I don't care if you don't like, go read something else if that's the case. I enjoy my writing. Ergo, if you don't like it that's your problem. Not mine. I'm rambling. So I'll stop now.
On the shores of what will be called Britain
Elrond walked at a sedate pace under the moonlight. His young daughter, only a century in age, was carried in his arms. He looked down upon his princess and saw so much of her mother, his first love, who'd given her life so their child would live. Elron thought of another lover, this one mortal. With striking eyes and bare feet, she almost looked elven. Her hair was dark as well, but was curled the way the tide curls upon the shore. She was also very short.
"You think of the woman you leave behind," said his friend Galadriel as she walked beside him. Her husband was with the guard up ahead.
"It is strange, the magical mortals steal our children for slavery, the mundane mortals fear us and we have been at war in this world for three centuries. Yet I've found myself grown attached to a mortal woman," he mused. The wheat haired seer besides him said nothing. She'd seen it all in her mirror. The mortal woman who reminded one of the elven but of lower stature, who seemed connected to the earth in a way they were not. She walked barefoot, the only magic she could preform was that of the earth and her elements.
She understood how Elrond had found comfort and warmth in the little mortal's arms and betwixt her sheets. She found no fault in her dear friend finding love again after his wife's passing; the mortal was different than the others, blessed by the earth and the stars. She knew the elven prince, king now that his father had passed-killed in battle before his time- had struggled with the decision to leave her behind. It had been the mortal who'd told him to leave, that his people and his daughter needed him more. She and hers would survive without him.
"The mortal will be fine, Elrond. The line will not die, and she herself will live long," Galadriel said. They'd reached the shore where the boats were waiting. Elrond only said:
"The age of man has come here, and too soon. We are no longer welcome and shall leave the mortal men to their wars."
Thus the elves boarded the boats and sailed at dawn. They sailed until they found a new land. As the years past there were wars on that earth as well and though Elrond did not hate humans, he did not trust any but a rare exception. However as an eon passed he came into contact with small, elven like beings who walked in bare feet and had hair that curled as the tide does on the sand. They had integrity and courage, similar but different. They reminded him of another he'd known; and the child he never got to hold. The family he lost because of a war.
Britain forest, a hut
The woman screamed, her birthing pains an agony she'd never experienced before. Only for him, the elf who helped her in the forest the day those noble warlocks had chased her with torture and shame in store for her when they finally caught her. They would have, she had no doubt, seeing as they were fully trained warlocks and she a lowly partial squib who only had enough magic for potions and herbs.
She screamed again, remembering the slender limbs, the sharp cheekbones, the height and his voice; so deep and smooth it reminded her of the river. She wondered if the child would look like him, her strange and wonderful saviour. She'd pushed him away, towards his people, ensuring he never saw his child; but it was for everyone's safety that it was done so.
One last scream and a wail filled the simple bedroom. The second child to push out into the world. The wise woman's apprentice was handling the first. Her newest child was cleaned, wrapped in a blankets and given to her. It was a boy, two sons she'd given her elven love. She felt pain in her chest as she remembered he'd be long gone by now, in the early morning light. He'd never hold their sons, he'd never even know they were sons.
She refused to cry tears for a life they'd both known could never be, not with the war of races. That would end, though, now that the elven had sailed away refusing to destroy an entire people because of the mad members. She cooed to her second son, forcing herself to focus on the present.
He had the flawless skin and high cheekbones of his father. The noble brow and aristocratic nose as well. He had her colouring, though. The dark hair and clear eyes. His brother also had the high cheekbones and noble brow of his elven lineage, but his skin and nose were hers. His hair and eyes matched her lost love, even if he had her curls. The ears had a slight point, but nothing obvious. The boys were a perfect mixture of the coupling.
"Mistress, Holymes; where's the father? He must hold them," asked the wise woman in their ugly language. She used to think it beautiful, but not after she met her elven love. The tears could not be refused any longer.
"He's lost to the sea," she said, and cried. In truth, he'd been lost to a war.
A/N: The next ch. will be longer, and I'll still be writing A Thing with Feathers. So if my updating seems erratic, it's because I've got three stories and life to juggle. Ta
P.S- For those who've already read this. I'm editing, so things might seem a little different. Its just grammar cleansing really… I can't stand the mistakes.