The first time John saw Harry, he was confused.

This, by itself, would not be such a great deal. As flatmate to one Sherlock Holmes, Doctor Watson was well accustomed to being confused. It was part and parcel with following Holmes around on his many mad and crazed schemes. Well that and the danger of it. But John never minded that as much.

Anyways, Holmes's habit of talking 650 words a minute on randomly "connected" tangents sure could be confusing. Hell, finding those eyeballs under his bed yesterday morning was confusing... and more than a little creepy, obviously. So no, being confused wasn't abnormal for John.

No, the reason why this instance of confusion was so remarkable was because for once its instigator was just as confused as he was. Damn, Holmes was rubbing off of him. What he meant to say there was: it was different because Holmes was just as confused as he, John, was when they first saw Harry.

Mr. Potter, on the other hand, was initially oblivious to their scrutiny. He and Teddy had just come out of Mrs. Hudson's door with goofy grins on their faces. The man chuckled at his godson as they talked about how they would be moving in their things in their newly rented flat.

The two were a striking pair. The man was of average build, John's own height he guessed, with sloppy black hair and shockingly green eyes that were currently crinkled in mirth. The way he carried himself reminded John of the men he'd served with. Though his expression was relaxed, there was a note of tension in how he walked and studied the streets in front of him, as if he expected someone to jump out of one of the trashcans. The boy was equally dark haired and with the exact same eye color as the man. His features looked almost identical as well. Even the scar on the man's forehead was mimicked on the boy's. He looked maybe ten or eleven years old.

Ok, maybe this by itself isn't too confusing. A man and his son going on a walk perhaps. John hears Holmes' voice in his head measuring the proximity of the two and noting facial features to discern if were related or if the man is baby sitting or something. Not too confusing or, really, that interesting.

At least until the two were within earshot.

"You don't need to fly, Teddy. Besides, brooms aren't allowed for first years, so you might as well get used to having your feet on the ground early."

"That's not fair. You got to fly first year."

Harry mumbled something to himself before grinning down at the boy.

"How about we just blow a hole in the wall and you practice flying through it"

"Really?" Teddy's eyes were shinning

"ya sure, and we can use the invisibility cloak so the Muggles won't see you kicking their cats or anything—"

Harry was cut off as Teddy shoved him lightly; having realized that he wasn't serious. After a quick glance at John and Sherlock which suggested that he was actually well aware of their scrutiny, the man and his son disappeared behind the corner.

"Flying brooms and Muggos?" John finally asks aloud.

Sherlock, most uncharacteristically, can only shrug.