Fandoms: Sherlock, Harry Potter

Characters: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Sherlock Holmes, John Watson

Prompt: Harry and Hermione immediately leave the magical world for a while to escape the backlash of the war and decide to share a flat on Baker Street. Sherlock, against John's advice, breaks into the teens' flat to do a little snooping and meets the business end of their wands. Cue Harry and Hermione's attempts to correct/obliviate their mistake from his mind and failing due to Sherlock's sheer mental strength and perseverance.

Prompt Made By: Lulzlullylulz

Disclaimer: I don't own the following series(es) or any character(s) that follow, and unless I. H. Scribe is listed after Prompt Made By chances are I don't own the idea for this story either.

"Really, Harry, you didn't have to break his nose," Hermione scolded. "He was dosed just like us and Ginny."

"Doesn't make what he was about to do right," Harry said, resolutely. Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes.

She, Harry, Ron, and Ginny had all been dosed with love potions over the years. She and Harry were slightly more resistant to the potions, so when Ron tried to get her into bed, only hours after the final battle against Voldemort, Hermione fought back. As heavily dosed as he was, Ron was unable to stop, until Harry stopped him by breaking his nose.

A checkup with Pomfrey revealed that all four of them had been dosed long-term with a lesser form of Amortentia. While Harry's first suspect had been Dumbledore, Hermione's had been Mrs. Weasley. Ron and Ginny hadn't taken that revelation well, and that, along with the flushing drafts removing the potions effects, had led to the relationships ending.

As it turned out, both Hermione and Harry had been wrong. It was Professor Trelawney that had been dosing the four of them, by bribing the house-elves with butterbeer. She was now in the mental ward at St. Mungo's, having claimed that the Inner Eye had told her to do it.

With the potions, Hermione's parents – recently rescued from Australia – not talking to her, and everyone in the wizarding world wanting to congratulate them, and mobbing them in the streets, Harry and Hermione had decided to take a break from everything, and go muggle.

While Harry was perfectly capable of paying their way – the goblins were surprisingly helpful, once they learned that the object Harry stole was a horcrux – Hermione insisted on paying for half of wherever they ended up.

She already had a job at a bookstore in London. All they needed was a new place to stay. Number 12 was fine for now, but it held sad memories for Harry, and was far enough from Hermione's job that she had to apparate to work each morning.

Hermione looked up as an elderly woman entered the store and shook her umbrella.

"I've never seen it rain so hard," she said. Hermione laughed.

"I went to school in northern Scotland. I'm just glad it's rain rather than snow." The woman put her umbrella in the large vase by the door, and went to browse the shelves. She came to the counter a few minutes later with several books.

"I just love this series," she said.

"I've only read part of the first book," Hermione said, as she scanned the prices. "Are the rest of them good?"

"Oh yes. You'd think they'd let you read in here. It's so far out of the way, you mustn't get many customers."

"Enough to get by, but with my shifts as long as they are, the only way I'm getting some quality reading time is if find a closer place."

"Oh, are you looking?"

"Yeah, me and my brother are sharing. I had a fight with Mum and Dad and well..." Hermione trailed off.

"I live about a block down the street, and I've had the house separated. I live in 221A, Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson live in 221B, but 221C is available if you'd like to take a look. It's a little small for two."

"Harry and I have shared a room for a while now. I think we can handle small. Do you mind if I bring him by on Sunday?"

"Oh that would be wonderful, dear," she said. "I'm Mrs. Hudson, by the way. We're on Baker Street. I look forward to your visit."

It only took Hermione a few minutes to convince Harry that 221C was perfect for them. It had a kitchen area that was separated from the sitting room by a row of counters. The only other door led to a bedroom, which in turn had another door that led to a small bathroom.

"We'll take it," Harry told Mrs. Hudson.

"Wonderful," Mrs. Hudson said. "I'll just need you to sign some paperwork." Mrs. Hudson led them up the stairs. Hermione glanced at her watch.

"Oh! I'm going to be late. I've got to go to work, sorry Harry," Hermione said.

"It's okay. I'll take care of my part of the paperwork and bring yours to you when you have lunch."

"Thank you." Hermione rushed out the door after kissing Harry on the cheek. They heard two different Oophs and then Hermone saying, "Sorry."

"That girl," Harry said, shaking his head. He filled out his portion of the paperwork, and then began adding various wards to the small flat.

Harry normally only cooked dinner – Hermione always made breakfast in the mornings – but since he was seeing Hermione anyway, he decided to try one of the smaller dishes he had seen Mrs. Weasley make. As he was leaving to take Hermione's lunch to her, Mrs. Hudson stopped him.

"And this is Harry Granger. He and Hermione will be sharing 221C," Mrs. Hudson told the two men on the stairs. "This is Sherlock Homes and John Watson. They live in 221B. I believe they met Hermione earlier when she ran out."

"Nice to meet you," Harry said.

"Yes, hello," John said, shaking Harry's free hand. "We'd come back for Sherlock's phone when she nearly ran us over. Hermione is your girlfriend then?"

"Sister actually," Harry said.

"Lie," Sherlock said.

"Sherlock," John said.

"They share no similar features," Sherlock said.

"I look like Dad, and Hermione takes after Mum," Harry said. It was technically the truth – Harry did take after his father, and Hermione did take after her mother – Harry just failed to mention the fact that they didn't actually share parents.

"Hermione is healthy, and well within her body and weight range for her age," Sherlock continued as if Harry hadn't spoken at all. "Harry is severely malnourished, wearing the wrong prescription of glasses, and is heavily underweight. Harry is from Surrey, judging by his accent, and Hermione is from Crawley. They were raised in two different households. Hermione's was a happy one, Harry's was abusive."

"Sherlock," John said again. Sherlock frowned.

"A bit not good?" he asked.

"More than a bit," John answered before turning to Harry, "I'm really very sorry."

"It's alright. I'd avoid telling Hermione about it, however. She's very protective of me," Harry said as he left.

"Oh, thanks Harry," Hermione said, as Harry handed over her lunch.

"No problem," he replied. He then handed her a pen and the paperwork for Mrs. Hudson. "Here. I've filled them out for you. Just sign here, here, and here."

"Right," Hermione said, signing where Harry told her. "Do we need to go to the store tod-?" Hermione cut off her question at the look on Harry's face. "Harry?"

"Someone just tripped the wards I set up."

Sherlock Holmes was a very hard man to live with. And after so many months, he knew how to push all of John's buttons at once – just enough to make him so frustrated that he went on a walk, leaving Sherlock free to investigate the new neighbors flat.

Harry Potter was a bright wizard – Hermione was better when it came to wards, yes, but he was no slouch – but his problem was that he thought like a wizard. He had warded against intruders breaking in with magic, but lock picks?

It didn't take Sherlock long to jimmy the lock open. A detection ward, unknown to Sherlock, went off, alerting Harry to the break in. Two small pops behind him had Sherlock diving out of the way and over the couch, before turning back for a look.

There were his two new neighbors holding...tiny sticks? They held them as if they were weapons. What sort of weapon could those be?

"Holmes?" Harry asked, confused.

"Harry," Hermione said. Having got his attention, she gave a pointed look to the two sticks they were holding.

"What? Oh. That. Right. Sorry, Holmes. Stupefy!"

A red light shot out of the stick in Harry's hand. Sherlock dived out the way again, this time over the counter. So some sort of voice-activated energy weapon, then? How interesting.

"Stupefy!" Hermione said. The red light from her wand forced Sherlock back around the other end of the counter, towards the couch again. He wasn't sure what the red light did, but it didn't kill him, so it was safe to assume it was some sort of capturing device. Perhaps if he did faked falling, they'd relax their guard enough for him to escape.

The next "Stupefy!" from Harry grazed his coat. Sherlock dropped like a sack of potatoes. When the two stopped firing the strange weapon at him, Sherlock edited his hypothesis – a stunning or sleeping attack.

"Well that's lovely. We're not even here two hours and we've already broken the Statute of Secrecy," Hermione said. So the weapon was under some secrecy law, perhaps similar to the Official Secrets Act.

"We'll have to Obliviate him," Harry said. That didn't sound pleasant at all.

"I don't like using that charm." Charm?

"Well I'm pants at it, so you'll have too," Harry said.

"Oh, alright. One memory modification charm, coming right up," Hermione muttered. Oh, Sherlock definitely didn't like the sound of that. His distaste must have shown on his face, because Harry moved closer to him instead of Hermione.

"Hermione, are you sure he's out?" Harry asked.

Sherlock heard one final, "Stupefy!" from Hermione and everything went black.

Sherlock woke up with a start. He was on the couch. He only slept on the couch when there was an experiment in his room – usually because he didn't want John to know about it. He didn't think there was but he checked his room just in case – no experiment.

There was, however, a rather large gap in his memories, starting just after he decided to go for a look in his new neighbor's flat.

That was new. He never had gaps in his memory. He could delete knowledge he didn't need, yes, but he could still remember learning it – otherwise he would just gather the knowledge again, not remembering he had deleted it, and what would be the point in that?

His new not-sibling neighbors had a very big secret, and it involved memory manipulation. The thought of such a thing was fascinating, and Sherlock's mind immediately began thinking of experiments and ways to test it. Sherlock would have to keep detailed, written records of everything he did – perhaps even invest in a button camera that he could affix to his coat or shirt.

He grinned. There was a mystery to be solved.

As always, I am accepting prompts, however, I am not accepting prompts through reviews. If you wish to give me a prompt, please see the Accepting Prompts section of my profile for instructions. Thank you.

I. H. Scribe