Neither Sherlock or Harry Potter belong to me, they are the property of the genii JKR and ACD, plus BBC.

Story warnings: Bad grammar, impossible things coming out of animals' mouths, all intended.

John and Sherlock were standing in an alleyway, waiting for a report from Sherlock's Homeless Network.

"Ah! There he is." Sherlock said after about 5 minutes. He pointed towards a small figure, running down the other end of the alley.

The boy stopped right in front of them, turning to Sherlock immediately. "Here you are, sir." He handed the detective a folded note. The boy was short, with messy black hair and taped glasses. The enormous Dalmatian next to him was scrawny, but looked well-cared for.

"Just as I suspected. Who wrote this? One of the boys, wasn't it?" Sherlock tucked away the note.

"Yes, sir. CD, it was."

"Diggory has always had a good eye. You're new, aren't you?" Sherlock suddenly eyed the boy.

"Yessir, just recruited last week."

"Do you have a name, then?"

"Harry, sir. Harry Potter. 'Nd this is Hedwig." The boy answered nervously, reaching up to pat his dog's head.

"Whose wing?"

"Weasleys, sir. The youngest boy found me 2 weeks ago."

"Good lot. How are they? I heard the girl was sick a while ago."

"All fine, sir. Ginny's much better now, 'just the odd cough now 'nd then. Bill's found work, too. It's made Mrs. Molly much happier, havin' two men workin'."

"Good for them, then. Which sector are you in? You're not from London."

"No, sir. Me 'nd Hedwig came in from Surrey about three weeks ago. We're nomad for the moment though."

"Brave choice. Well, good luck in your future endeavors, and give my best to Molly and Arthur." Sherlock slipped a bank note and a few dog biscuits into the boys hand, and turned away, heading off into the streets.

"Thank you, sir!" Harry called after them, and his dog barked happily.

John looked incredulously at Sherlock. That was the most amount of affection he had ever seen the detective give anybody.

"What?" Sherlock said to his friend's look. "Contrary to popular belief, I'm not completely heartless. I look after my network, and they get me my information. The Weasleys are a good bunch. Always on the lookout for anything worth noting.

"The homeless, John, can go everywhere, see everything, overhear everyone and never be noticed. They are a sadly underutilized asset. I am certain that if the police used them, there would be far more solved cases. 3 street urchins can get information across all of London and back in 2 hours, and in the most discreet way possible.

"Now come, I must have a look at the widow's apartment and then meet up with Lestrade and his bumbling idiots."

That was John's first observation of Sherlock's affection and sympathy for the Homeless, and it wasn't the last. Harry was one of the most common faces, he and Hedwig. Every case that required Sherlock's Network had at least one Weasley helping out, John could tell by the trademark fiery "W" somewhere on their person. Either as a pendant on jewelry or as a tattoo for long-term members, for the "W" was the Weasleys' symbol. Another indicator was fire-red hair, though that could only apply to Molly, Arthur and their 7 children.

At Sherlock's burial, all of the Homeless Network filed into the graveyard after the ceremony, silent and morose. The Weasleys were there, as was Harry and Hedwig, CD, Wiggins, CC, cc, dc, Hermione, Luna, and Neville. Angelica, Alicia and Fleur were standing tall by their boyfriends, and the Luggage lady stood quietly by her battered suitcases, her platinum blond hair tangle-free for once. Cat's Man was surrounded by the strays he managed to pick up, and Pigeons had many of the birds on his shoulders. Many more were present, stray animals included.

John stopped Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson before they left. "You'll want to see this." He knew that the Network had been fiercely loyal to Sherlock, and also knew that their final goodbye would be impressive, if not grand.

As they watched, the various dogs and cats started howling, meowing and barking, but not the usual scrambled mess of woofs and yowls. This was a section from Vivaldi's summer, Sherlock's favorite piece. It wasn't perfect, as Vivaldi hadn't written it for cats, dogs, a squirrel and a small flock of pigeons, but it was recognizable.

The Homeless Network raised their hands simultaneously in a full-handed salute as the segment ended. This was followed by a long, drawn out howl from Hedwig. As she ended, the cemetery fell silent, not a sound to be heard.

The Network walked out, each nodding to John on their way by. John stopped Harry, the last to leave. He looked down at Hedwig.

"How...?"

"I don't know, sir. We hadn't even meant to bring the animals, 'cept Hedwig and Cat's Man's. Theys just tagged on as we went by. Mrs. Molly says that the things we can't explain are either science or miracles. I guesses you could call this one a miracle."

"That was His favorite piece. Vivaldi's Summer."

"Like ah said sir, miracles."

Harry gave John a 2-fingered salute, and Hedwig rubbed her head up against John's hand, before leaving the graveyard.

"What the... John, who were they?" Lestrade asked.

"You know how He'd always say he had a source, but would never tell you who? That was them. That was the Network, His Homeless Network. His own loyal band of city-wide info-gatherers.

"And apparently, some very musically talented animals."

Yeah... The isty-bit of humor at the end wasn't my idea. The pretty little winged cats made of solid gemstone that I like to call my muses made me do it. The cemetery scene wasn't even in my original plan for this oneshot, and the musical but my first attempt at an ending was shit. By the way, if you're curious, CD stands for Cedric Diggory, CC is for Cho, cc is Colin Creevey, and dc is Dennis Creevey.

I made up Cat's man, but Pigeons and the Luggage Lady are both based off homeless in my city. No one knows if the Luggage Lady is actually homeless, but she's always sitting by buildings downtown with an assortment of suitcases. She can't talk very well, and her hair is always in a frizzy bun, and wears these old, ratty fur coats. It's a lively debate on whether she's homeless or a crazy widow of a rich guy. Pigeons lives on top of the car park with the pigeons and seagulls. I often see him dancing around up there with the birds out my window.

Wiggins was the "General" in ACD's original Homeless Network, known then as the "Baker St. Police Division" or the "Baker St. Irregulars". It was much smaller than the Network, made up of around a dozen street arabs (Homeless boys). I tinkered with Sherlock's relationship with the Network, making it more like ACD's version and a little bit more involved.

I think of Hedwig as a very big Dalmatian, but with very small and few spots, with a black muzzle and a rounder face than most Dals. So a cross between a Dalmatian and something else.

Sorry for the huge AN, I didn't mean to pramble. I take requests for HPxSherlock oneshots, PM me the details if you want one!