Disclaimer: Sooo, I'm still looking for Eros. Finally made it back to Greece. Had to stowaway on a cargo ship. Not fun, let me tell you. They were transporting manure for Kalamata. Weird, yes. Didn't know Greece couldn't make its own manure. Still, it got me closer to my destination, wherever that may be and then I just hitched a ride on a puddle jumper and landed in Athens this morning. I so need a shower. Sherlock and Company are still not mine, though I have yet to give up hope. I make no money off of these stories. If I did I wouldn't have had to stowaway on a ship full of sh-.

A/N: This story is dedicated to my very own BAMF, Becca. Sunday was her 18th Birthday and since I am poor and could not afford to get her a real present, I'm writing her a story instead. I hope she likes it and that it makes her laugh. HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BECCA!

A/N2: This fic will most likely never be finished. Not because I've lost interest or plan to lose interest in the future but because I hope it just keeps going. Our intrepid heroes will have many crazy adventures and wacky fun. What else would you expect from a fiction containing Sherlock Holmes and Luna Lovegood? Hope you enjoy it. Please let me know what you think. THIS IS NOT A HONEY 'VERSE STORY! I do intend to continue with the Honey 'Verse stories and update this one when the silliness strikes me. A new Honey 'Verse story should be out soon.

Title: Sherlock Holmes and the Hunt for the Crumple Horned Snorkack

Summary: When Harry and Luna enlist John and Sherlock to help them find the Crumple Horned Snorkack wackiness ensues. They will be travelling the world and meeting many strange and interesting people and creatures. Along the way they pick up a friend named Flynn who is THE Librarian. Will be a summary at the beginning of every chapter.

Luna

Chapter Summary: Two new faces arrive at 221B that leave Sherlock confused and speechless and John amused and excited. Enjoy my little dip into a cross over that should have been canon.

The footsteps were extremely light and nearly too soft for him to hear. He wouldn't have ever heard them at all if he hadn't insisted that John leave open the door when he told Sherlock they were expecting someone to come by about a new case. He couldn't really decide if the people making them were male or female, though there was something that said female about the front set to him and male to the second set. They both seemed to either weigh too little for him to be able to accurately ascertain their age or they'd been trained far too well in the art of stalking prey and sneaking around. But he very much doubted the second option, the footsteps were far too sure of themselves. He suspected they were very young since only the young ever walked with such sure, quick and light steps. Those trained in the arts stepped more carefully and deliberately as though every step could bring them into danger.

Yet…there was a trace of weariness in the footfalls of both she and her companion. Not the kind of weariness that came from a long day but that of the kind that spoke of a long battle fought and won at too much cost. So the pair could not be nearly as young as at first thought. His magnificent mind was going in circles with this problem. It was excellent…for now.

Sherlock closed his eyes against the disappointment that was bound to come next. The footsteps led to an interesting picture and yet he knew that as soon as he looked at them he would find them boring and mundane. He both loved and loathed playing this game with himself. A game no one, not John or Mycroft or anyone else, even suspected he played. He didn't play it very often as it inevitably led to disappointment and irritation. No one was every as interesting as their footsteps. Except for John who was a contradiction to everything anyway.

For this game that he only played rarely he used his powers of deduction to form a picture of the person or persons talking to him without seeing them and then observed them to see how close he was. It didn't help with the boredom much but it did help. He only played the game rarely as in the end it was just as boring as everything else. He was nearly always right anyway. That was the trouble with being a genius. Just once he wished he could be wrong. Only about something small and unimportant but wrong all the same. And only if no one knew he'd been wrong. Mycroft would be completely insufferable if he knew Sherlock had been wrong about something.

He would always hold out looking as long as he possibly could to stave off the boredom. This time would be no different. They were a young married couple, early twenties, from London if the sound of the grit on their shoes was anything to go by and it always was. The rustle of fabric spoke eloquently of an upper middleclass income but nothing allowing for extravagances. The only other deduction he could make until one of them spoke was that the female's hair was long and tangled. It wasn't windy and so she must not care for her appearance. Strange as most women, especially young ones, seemed to think about little else. But she didn't. Probably had something to do with the weariness in her steps.

"Hello John Watson," the girl said to John after rapping rather enthusiastically on the doorframe. "How are you?" She sounded dreamy and far too cheerful. So she must be forcing herself to look more alive than she was. That weariness was coming to haunt his thoughts again. Such young people shouldn't be sick of life already. An her accent was British with a tinge of Ireland to it. Was she running from the IRA?

"Good, thanks," John answered in his steady way, comforting as it was annoying. "Come in, won't you?" He heard John step back and the two enter then there was the sound of cloth as the pair took off their coats. They were short, both of them. Interesting. The girl/woman was a few inches shorter than John and the boy/man was about the same height. The boy/man said nothing which irritated Sherlock as that meant that without looking he could deduce almost nothing about him. "Would you like some tea?" There was something in John's voice that interested Sherlock. Familiarity. Did John know them? Intriguing if he did. John hadn't told him that he knew their newest clients. How very sneaky of him. He loved it when John got sneaky.

"Oh, yes, JohnWatson. That would be wonderful." Her voice was young, very young and at the same time carried that oldish quality of her footsteps. And once again the weariness was there only hidden behind a dreamy tone.

"Not a problem," even John's voice was smiling but not in that way that said he was attracted to her. Strange. John liked looking at beautiful women. Was she not beautiful then? Possible. And far more interesting than if she was. "Go on and have a seat. I'll have the tea out in a moment," he promised.

Sherlock listened closely to the rustling sounds as the pair settled themselves and the clinking from the kitchen as John made tea. The pair sat in silence, complete silence. Interesting. In his experience most people were uncomfortable with silence and had to make some noise, even if only shifting in their seats. This pair however made no sound whatsoever after they'd sat aside from their breathing. There were very few people that could sit so still and still be comfortable.

Sherlock was momentarily diverted from his boredom which he was grateful for. Though he knew that as soon as he actually saw them he'd be bored again as they couldn't possibly be at all interesting and their so called case would be something both mundane and boring. So far they had proved rather interesting but he knew it wouldn't last. It never did.

"Here you are," John announced as he came back into the room a few minutes later carrying a tray of tea and Sherlock listened to the clinking of the cups and rustle of clothing as John sat near him. "Now then, what's up?" He asked them after he'd handed them both cups of tea and set Sherlock's on the table at the end of his couch. He knew Sherlock wouldn't touch it until the couple had gone but he'd brought one for him anyway. John was utterly predictable when it came to tea. The man could be in a war zone and stop shooting at the enemy for a cuppa. Of course he'd also invite the enemy over to have some and then calmly go back to shooting at them when they'd finished.

There was silence for a few moments and Sherlock opened his eyes his curiosity nearly getting the better of him. Exercising extreme self-control he glared at the ceiling. This was an anomaly. He didn't like being caught by surprise like these two had been doing. But, at least he wasn't bored yet. Still…he knew how this game would end. In his disappointment. Again.

"Mr. Holmes?" The girl finally asked. Her dreamy voice with its Irish lilt seemed to smooth itself over his skin. It was a strange sensation and he catalogued it for future investigation. "Sherlock Holmes?" She repeated herself calmly. That showed a lack of intelligence or maybe annoyance. John often repeated himself to Sherlock and he was very intelligent.

"Hmm?" He hummed in inquiry and flapped a hand at them in a gesture to get on with it. He was bracing himself for the complete letdown that their case would bring. Would it be a missing relative? Stolen jewelry? Adultery? Any of those would prove to be boring and not a challenge to his skills at all. But then he couldn't really think of anything that two young Londoners would need from him that would challenge him.

"Our friend Hermione said that you were the best consulting detective in England," the girl began and Sherlock's brain whirled with new information as the girl was now speaking directly to him. He still didn't take his eyes off the ceiling though. More anticipation that way and less boredom even if only for a few moments. That sentence in itself gave him a wealth of information about her. She was dependent on the thoughts of others and saw she and the boy as a unit and not individuals.

The boy hadn't said a word yet, either he was mute or he was a classic hen pecked husband forced to go along with his wife. The girl was young, no more than nineteen and yet sounded older at times. There was something more about them that seemed just out of his grasp but again it was too much effort to figure it out. He disliked becoming curious only to find the object of his curiosity was as boring as everyone else. John had been the only exception and he continued to surprise Sherlock on a daily basis. It was one of the reasons he kept the other man around.

"He is," Sherlock heard John assure them. He felt a spurt of warmth at John's words even as he rolled his eyes. Really, how banal. John always defended him. It may have even proven just as boring as everything else if it wasn't John doing it. But John was never boring. And he was never mundane.

"I am the only consulting detective in England," he snapped, irritated at the unfamiliar warmth in his chest from John's words and the conviction that the pair were going to be so very dull. The girl's need for assurance was testament to that. "The only one in the world, in fact." He boasted. It was only the truth after all.

"Well then," the girl said brightly, thoroughly reassured by his arrogant statement. Sherlock gave a mental sigh, people were idiots, and these two weren't any different than anyone else. "That would make you the best, wouldn't it?" She seemed to ponder for a moment. "Consequently it also makes you the worst and Hermione did say you were the best. Oh, Harry." Her voice was now filled with dismay. "We really need the best for this mission and if Mr. Holmes is both the best and the worst I don't know if he can help us." She sounded so completely devastated.

Sherlock could hear John giggling in the background but his brain had ground to a halt for a moment. The worst consulting detective? Really? How preposterous! He was the best and he was the only. Though when his brain creaked back into motion he realized that he couldn't really find any fault in her logic. Strange and disturbing. He'd never looked at his job title in quite that way before. Still simply because he was the only consulting detective didn't make him the worst consulting detective, did it? Really, it didn't.

"I'm sure it will be fine, Luna," the boy with her finally spoke in a soothing kind of voice. He was young too and yet he sounded weary. Hen pecked husband indeed. Nothing else he could be, not with a voice that weary. Boring.

Sherlock smirked a bit at his correct deductions about the boy and ignored the sound of cloth rustling until a smooth cheek pressed against his. He jerked his head to the side away from the intrusion and glared at the blond female that now filled his vision. "What are you doing?" He hissed out completely perturbed by her nearness and the aura of something around her. She was a walking, breathing anomaly. There was power around her and he couldn't figure out why. Not boring.

In the small part of his brain not occupied with outrage at her actions he also noted that while she wasn't a classical beauty she had a certain otherworldliness that was very pretty. Why was John not attracted to her? That made no sense. John was attracted to women and though he wouldn't admit it men as well. This female was lovely and John felt no attraction for her. Another anomaly. Sherlock wasn't normally attracted to anyone much less a woman and he found her aesthetically pleasing and quite attractive. So why was John immune to her charms?

That attractive profile turned and wide grey eyes caught on his own. "This isn't going to work," she murmured with a displeased frown. "This position is far too awkward." She sighed and gave her head a small shake without ever releasing his eyes from her own gaze. "Well, there's no help for it; you'll have to budge over. I can't see them from this angle." Her tone was quite serious and the look in her eyes said that she expected him to know what she was talking about. For perhaps the first time in his life Sherlock felt a tiny bit stupid. He didn't like the feeling.

There was just something about this girl that made him feel as though he was totally missing the point. "Pardon?" He asked as civilly as he possibly could, which even he knew wasn't very.

The girl, seemingly completely unimpressed with his ire, rolled her eyes at him. "Budge over," she commanded again slowly.

"Why?" Sherlock asked curiously, his anger forgotten in his bemusement.

"So I can see them too," she explained with a slight air of irritation. Luna held back her smile with an impressive force of will. It wouldn't do to allow SherlockHolmes to see her amusement. He'd only become cranky again.

"See what?" Sherlock stared at her in astonishment. For the first time in his life he was completely lost to the subject of the conversation.

John's giggles were now full blown laughter and even this girl's husband was fighting back a grin with twinkling green eyes. Though Sherlock wasn't completely positive the dark haired boy/man was the girl's husband, it seemed a logical conclusion. Though what such a carefree girl saw in such a somber fellow he would never understand. "What are you talking about?" He asked the girl sharply when it was obvious that neither of the other men were going to assist him in fending off her unwanted presence and strange behavior. They were too busy laughing at him.

"The Light Warblers," the girl explained with another eye roll and an even more exasperated note to her voice. She did sound as though she was explaining to a small child. "Now budge over." When he only continued to stare at her she pushed at his limbs until there was enough room for her to lie on the sofa beside him. "There, that's not so bad, is it?" She pressed her cheek to his again and followed his line of sight to the dust motes dancing in the rays of the sun coming from the window. "Remarkable," she sighed and he felt her grin against his cheek. "They're very active today, aren't they? You must be very intelligent. Light Warblers are attracted to intelligence." She continued to speak in that tone that said he should understand every word out of her mouth.

"Light Warblers," Sherlock finally found his voice though even to his own ears it was faint and unsure. He had been too shocked by her actions and their very calmness to react. He had never met someone so…so…comfortable with themselves and others. And now she was staring at his ceiling and talking about a being he had never heard of. Just who was this girl? And was she as insane as she seemed? There was also something about the boy…but the girl was filling his mind with her absurdity and he couldn't spare any thought for the boy.

The girl nodded and he felt her grin against his cheek again. "Very good. Yes. Light Warblers. Why did you think there was so much dust in your flat? It's because the Light Warblers like you and leave their dust to help make you smarter. They don't quite realize that the dust only makes you sneeze but I suppose that does help doesn't it? I mean if you didn't sneeze then you wouldn't blow your nose and then your head would get all stuffed up and then it would be hard to think or concentrate. Hmm," she brought a hand up to her face and nibbled on a fingernail. "I don't know why I hadn't thought of that before. Wow! Mr. Holmes, your Light Warblers are remarkably useful." The girl threw her arms around him and squeezed him in a tight hug. "Thank you for letting me see them!" She planted a happy kiss to his cheek in appreciation.

There was a thump as John fell from his chair because he was laughing so hard. Sherlock thought that was rather unkind of him but couldn't seem to make his mouth form the rebuke that was floating through his mind. Was this some kind of joke on John's part? Had he set this up? Part of Sherlock was impressed if that was true; it had certainly diverted him from his boredom. But the biggest section of his massive intellect knew that while John was laughing like a lunatic that the girl was serious in her words. He could detect no hint of lies from her. Of course that didn't mean that the girl wasn't completely insane. She could believe every word that came from her own mouth without it being the real truth. But somehow he couldn't help believing her. She wasn't insane. She just saw the world in a different way than other people.

The man/boy with her stood with a grin and sparkling, amused green eyes and held out a hand to the girl. "Up you come, Lunalove," he said. "I think you've broken our hosts." Sherlock suddenly felt like gasping as the boy came closer. The aura around him was immense and overwhelming. Sherlock blinked and the aura was gone as though it had never been though the boy wore a slightly sheepish look. It was only later that Sherlock learned that Harry usually held his magic in check and only let it out when he couldn't stop it. Hold back his own laughter had caused him to lose grip on his magic a bit.

The girl sighed again and wiggled her fingers towards the ceiling as though waving goodbye before taking the man's hand and climbing to her feet. "They aren't broke, Harrymine," she paused and considered the howling man on the floor with tears streaming from his eyes. "Well, John will be if he doesn't stop laughing so hard soon, he may break a rib or something. Mr. Holmes is simply reconfiguring his brain. He'll need explanations. Ah well," she flipped her long, tangled blonde hair over her shoulder. "At least the Light Warblers will be here to help John tell Mr. Holmes what he'll need to know and if he's anything like his brother more than Mr. Holmes needs to know. Remus loved to explain things." There was a hint of sadness in her voice now and Sherlock wanted it gone.

John slowly composed himself. "You're leaving the explanations to me?" He squawked with only a hint of mirth remaining. His eyes were wide and shocked.

"Yes, of course," Luna nodded in an authoritative manner. "You are his Significant Other, John. It's your job to tell him everything." All the men could hear the capitals on those words.

"Explanations?" Sherlock asked faintly. Damn, he'd been trying to be sterner but his mind was still whirling with all the information inundating it.

"I'm not his significant other," John barked out with a frown and a furtive look at Sherlock. "I'm not gay."

Sherlock frowned. He hated it when John did that. It wasn't that they were a couple but did John have to be so vehement about not finding him at all attractive? He certainly found John attractive and would have happily become more than his friend but John was very careful to never give the impression that he might like to have more. It was terribly frustrating.

The girl, Luna, gave John a pitying look that seemed to say more than her following words did. "You are the one living with him and he needs to know about our world. That makes you the Significant Other." Her grey eyes caught Sherlock's again. "And yes, Sherlock Holmes, explanations. We thought he'd already told you, you see. Obviously the wrackspurts have fuzzed up his brain." She took the boy/man's, Harry's, hand. "We'll come back later when you've been told about what you need to know. If you have any questions we'll answer them." She shrugged and turned to leave.

"I think I'll need Mycroft for this one," John muttered under his breath. He wasn't looking forward to that but it might be necessary.

The man stiffened but it barely registered with Sherlock who was still in shock at the things he deduced from the girl. His deductions were making no logical sense and he seriously worried for his sanity. "As long as he's not here when we come back tomorrow it's your call, John. Just keep that pompous windbag away from us or there will be bloodshed…or not. Some of the spells I know can cause severe harm without spilling his blood." Harry said quietly and seriously with no inflection whatsoever. Sherlock turned his attention to him, ready to flay him for his absurd assertion that just wasn't possible. But, his brain went on vacation as it sped out of control at what Sherlock saw when he looked closely at the boy/man. It shouldn't be possible for him to exist. There was such power and sadness and death and kindness and so many other things clinging to him that they seemed to be waging a war all around him to overcome him and yet he didn't seem to notice any of them.

"Thank you, Harry." John put his hand out to shake the other man's hand seemingly unaware of the contradiction around the other man. "Did you actually have a case for us then?" John's query was reasonable said the part of Sherlock's brain that was still capable of thought after the complete shutdown following the utter impossibility of the pairs existence. He would have to find some way to thank his blogger for being so immune to whatever it was around the couple.

"Yes, of course, we do," Luna said brightly her gray eyes suddenly alight. "We'll tell you all about it tomorrow morning. Would you like us to bring Teddy so that you can meet your nephew?" Her offer seemed off hand but Sherlock later saw the cunning beneath the guileless gaze.

John positively beamed at her and hope lit up his hazel eyes. "I would like that. Thank you, Luna. Only if there are no objections from his guardian though." He suddenly seemed a little sad and a bit fearful.

Harry snorted in derisive amusement. "There won't be," he assured John in a firm voice. "I'll take care of it."

John shook his head in confusion and denial. "Are you sure? I mean…you know what I am." John frowned in embarrassment.

Luna laughed lightly. "Harrymine will take care of any objections, John. He's very good at it. Besides it's not like Gran Andy would ever object. She's a very special witch."

John's smile returned and seemed brighter than Sherlock had ever seen it. "Thank you," he said gratefully

Luna waved his thanks off and peered at Sherlock, her gray eyes were wide and concerned for him. "Did I really break him?" She sounded sad.

Harry patted her shoulder comfortingly and then knelt down by the sofa and gazed into Sherlock's eyes. That aura around him seemed to stroke at Sherlock's battered senses. "No," Harry finally said, he stood back up taking the aura that seemed so comforting with him. "He simply needs to give his brain time to reboot. We've shocked him, I think. He didn't expect us, Lunalove."

"No one expects us, Harrymine," the girl snickered with a trace of wickedness. "We'll go now and let you and the Light Warblers sort out Mr. Holmes, John. See you tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow," John waved them out the door. At least Sherlock wouldn't be shooting any holes in the wall today and probably tomorrow too, John thought with a bit of amusement. Explaining the Wizarding World and his lack of a place in it would at least keep Sherlock occupied for a day or two.

Sherlock blinked slowly after they'd left and laid back on the couch to stare once again at the ceiling. He had a lot to think about. And some kind of creature to find in the light painting the living room of his and John's flat. What was a Light Warbler supposed to look like anyway? He should have made Luna tell him before she left. Damn.