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Crime is of the Essence	By : K8BNimble Category: Harry Potter Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male Views: 6594 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or BBC’s Sherlock nor do I make money from this. I just like playing with them. Harry Potter is owned by owned by JK Rowling, Scholastic and Warner Brothers & BBC’s Sherlock is owned by, well, the BBC

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
- 5
And I still don’t own either Harry Potter or BBC’s Sherlock. I also make no money on this either….

Story note: The year is 2018. It’s canon until the Epilogue. Harry never married. Ron and Hermione had Rose and Hugo earlier than indicated in the books so that they are older in this story. Rose was born in 2002 and Hugo in 2005. Other minor modifications made without notice probably!
Reminder: The Sherlock in this story is from BBC's Sherlock which is set in contemporary times. This IS NOT Robert Downey Jr.'s Sherlock nor any traditional versions as portrayed by Jeremy Brett or any other actor. This is Sherlock as portrayed by Benedict Cumberbatch. You do not need to have seen the BBC series to follow this story.

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Crime is of the Essence

Chapter 3 - Two Pasts Collide

Harry slowly became aware that he was lying on his couch. There was a rather warm lumpy pillow below his head. He couldn’t quite remember how he got there. He wiped some crust from his eyes and began to sit up.
“Feeling better?”
Oh yes, it came back to Harry. Sherlock, Snape…
Harry shot up and faced Sherlock. “You idiot! You could have accidentally wiped my memory doing that! You never break a mental connection like Legilimency that suddenly. It’s like sleepwalking!” No wonder he had such a headache. He felt woozy from the rush of blood to his head. He leaned against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes.
Sherlock just raised his eyebrows at him. “I didn’t know what he was doing. I was trying to protect you.”
Harry waved his hand. “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Harry rubbed his temples and then looked at the man next to him. “Sorry. I was starting to pull myself out of it so it’s ok. Just don’t ever do that again. It can cause serious damage.” Harry stood up and went to the kitchen. Sherlock followed him. “Drink?” Harry asked as he pulled out a glass and turned the faucet on.
“Do you have anything other than water?” Sherlock asked.
“I probably have some lager, or if you’re sticking to non-alcoholic drinks, I have Diet Coke.”
“Not going to offer me tea? How very unBritish of you,” Sherlock said with a slight smile. Harry opened a bottle of Tylenol and downed a couple. Harry found that Muggle medicines sometimes sat in his stomach better than potions.
Sherlock went over the refrigerator and helped himself to a bottle of Meantime Union lager.
“I don’t have the patience to make tea, right now,” Harry said.

“You’ve been travelling a lot I take it?”
Harry stared at him blankly. “Your refrigerator,” Sherlock explained. “It’s mostly empty except for some take-way from last night. You have drinks that don’t expire easily. No milk, no juice, no eggs. Condiments, but no perishable food. And your stove is dusty.”
“Maybe I don’t enjoy cooking anymore,” Harry snorted as he walked back into the living room. Leave it to Sherlock to figure Harry out from non-existent milk.
“Unlikely. You cook like other people meditate. You can do it without thinking and it gives your hands something to occupy themselves while you think about things that are important to you.”
Harry sat on the couch and contemplated Sherlock. He was still the same. He watched as Sherlock examined his living room – from the old battered sofa to the new leather recliner he'd just bought, from the shelves and tables lined with mementos and books to the photos of his friends: Ron and Hermione from school, the three of them at their wedding, the latest Christmas holidays at Molly and Arthur’s house, Luna and Neville and others. From the grandfather clock given to him by Arthur that now included Harry as part of their family to the collection of broomsticks Harry had bought over years and had mounted on the wall.
“You’ve also acquired trinkets from overseas." Sherlock picked up a snow globe tucked in the back of one of the book shelves. “Iowa Falls,” he read as he shook it. “Who’s there that was important to you?”
“Was?” Harry was curious despite himself. Sherlock had a way of seeing things no one else did.
“Was. Someone you wanted to remember, but clearly couldn’t stay with. A short term but passionate affair I think. Married? Maybe. No photos so that’s a possibility. But this has been pushed to the back and not looked at in some time so ‘was’, past tense. A fond memory, but nothing more.”
“You never change. Everyone has to be an open book to you. I’m still just a case study,” Harry said, irritated as he walked up and yanked the globe away from Sherlock and put it back on the shelf after wiping the dust off.
Sherlock looked surprised at the tone in Harry’s voice, but Harry continued, “No, he wasn’t married. He was a Muggle I worked on a case with in the US. A Muggle that was a demon hunter. He didn’t particularly care for magic or magic users. I learned that just a little too late.”
“I am sorry, Harry.”
“Don’t be. I never thought it would last. It was just a long case and we were both tired and lonely. He doesn’t hate me, if that’s what you think. We just knew that long term it would never work. Two different worlds.” ‘Much like our own relationship,’ Harry thought.
“Ah. And that man in the bed upstairs? Would that work for you?”
“What?!” Harry was flabbergasted at the implication.
“It’s obvious you know one another – and well I might add.”
“No! It’s nothing like that. That’s Severus Snape! He was my professor.”
“Ah, so that’s the infamous Severus Snape. I recall how often you spoke of him.”
Harry blushed. Had he really talked about Snape that much back then? Sherlock was still talking. “Well, that is a surprise. Isn’t he supposed to be a lot older? I mean, I know Wizards age differently. Look at you. You must be 38 and you don’t look more than 25 or 26. He only looks about forty and he should be in his sixties. Is that usual?”
Harry ran his hand through his already messy locks. “No, that is strange. He looks exactly the same as I remember.” Harry went and sat back down on the couch. “How did you find him again?”
Sherlock sat next to him and pulled out his phone. He flipped to the video recording of the room he had taped earlier. “Here’s the place. What do you make of it?”
Harry took the phone and watched the recording. He could hear the conversation between Sherlock and the other man. He looked up. “Who’s that on the other end?”
“John Watson. He’s a doctor.” Harry noticed the slightest hint of pink tinge Sherlock’s very pale face.
“Your new partner…in being a…What is it you call it again, Consulting Detective?” Harry asked.
“I suppose so. He helps me with cases,” Sherlock said. Harry noticed how Sherlock was underplaying John and their relationship. Harry could hear on the recording how Sherlock sought John’s advice. Sherlock rarely did that of anyone unless that person’s opinion was important to him. He chose not to pursue that line of thought as it depressed him that someone as socially challenged as Sherlock had managed to find someone new while he was still alone.
Harry zoomed in to see Snape’s body and noticed Sherlock’s finger swipe through the lumpy brown liquid on the floor.
“Is that…?” Harry began.
“Polyjuice Potion. Yes, it is.” Harry trusted Sherlock to know what it was. He had certainly used it enough in the past.
“Maybe we ought to go back up. Perhaps Snape isn’t really Snape, after all.” Harry stood to head back up to the bedroom.
“No need to. I’m sure he hadn’t taken it. If you look at the shelf just above him, there are a number of those bottles. I think it got knocked down in the fray. I’ve also been here for hours so he would have turned back by now.”
Harry nodded in agreement. He looked closer and panned and zoomed the image so he could see the shelves, or what was left of them, at least. Sure enough, there were a few similar looking bottles sitting on the remaining unbroken shelves.
“You said this store was in Hyde Park?” Sherlock nodded. Harry’s brows furrowed in thought. “Why would a store with Wizarding potions be in Hyde Park? There are no Wizarding licenses given for that area. That’s strictly a Muggle location.”
“Well, that is an interesting question,” Sherlock noted.
“HARRY!” Snape’s voice screamed, as if in terror from the upstairs bedroom. Both men jumped up and ran up the steps.
Severus Snape was sitting straight up in bed, wide-eyed and looking around the room frantically.
“Professor…sir?” Harry asked softly so as to not startle him. Snape looked up at him and froze like a stag caught in a Lumos Maxima spell. He was panting heavily.
“Harry…I must find Harry,” Snape said repeatedly. He struggled to stand up but his legs didn’t hold. Sherlock and Harry ran over to help him back up onto the bed. Harry sat down next to him. Sherlock backed away a few feet.
“Sir, I’m right here,” Harry said and patted his shoulder reassuringly.
Snape looked back and forth between Harry and Sherlock curiously. “Who are you?” he asked Harry.
- 3
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Crime is of the Essence