Part Two

Business as Usual were not the words a normal man would use to describe looking down at the dead body of a man that had been shot and killed – apparently by sniper – when there was no evidence to support it. Sherlock and I had been called out on a case. A man had been killed in the middle of nowhere, no buildings no people. No one in a fifteen-mile radius. Anderson had said that heart failure was the cause. I had said that he was shot. Sherlock noticed the blood in his ears. The bullet had gone in one ear and out the other. This was similar to three deaths we had encountered prior to Buckingham Palace. Three murders. We had been using the apartment as Home Base when we encountered Harry again.

He was fighting quietly with a redhead outside the door to his apartment. She was tightly holding the wrist of a young boy with wild blue hair. Her voice growing louder and louder as she grew more and more heated.

"Illegitimate." Sherlock whispered to me when we passed them.

"Shut up."

"I can't take this anymore Harry! He is not our child!" The woman was yelling, audible for anyone to hear.

"He's family Gin." The soft, disappointed pleading that came from Harry pulled at my heartstrings. This was a man who had known loss, had likely lost his own family in the recent attacks. I hadn't known Sherlock at the time, having been in Afghanistan, but the letters I received from Harry – my sister, mind – had been enough to tell me I wasn't really missing anything.

"He's NOT! He's a relic of your dead parents family, not ours. You said we would be together after! You said-"

"I said we would work things out! I never said I would marry you right after. I waited for you, and you didn't wait for me. I've moved on Gin. You should too." The brief rising of Harry's voice was enough to stop Sherlock in his tracks. For some reason he was invested in this argument.

"The take this… this FREAK!" SLAP. The sound of the woman's hand meeting the child's face froze the street. The man from down the road stared openly and the two ladies walking their dogs gasped and put hands to their mouths. Sherlock had turned to face the arguing couple, eyes analyzing everything. A student pulled out his mobile and started to video it.

"You knew what that word means to him, don't you?" Sherlock opened his mouth and I groaned inside. He would either make the situation worse, or he would make a lasting impression on someone. In a bad way.

"Excuse me?" The woman ground out. I moved to get closer to my friend. Hopefully to defuse the situation before something happened.

"You know what that word, 'Freak' means to him, but you said it anyway. Why? Was it to remind him of his abusive past and how you 'saved him' from it? Or was it to cover up the guilt you feel about cheating on him? Redirect him in a way? Or, finally, did you call the innocent child you are painfully grabbing on to that vile word because it made you feel like you had any control over this situation? Pick one. Or better yet, I'll pick one and you can shut. Up." Sherlock's words were crisp and biting, his teeth almost bared as he stood wrapped in his long coat and scarf on the corner of Baker Street.

"You said it because you wanted to hurt him. Your ex-fiancé who dumped you shortly after the attacks on London, because he found you in bed with another man. But not any man – going by his reaction to your infidelity – but someone he used to call a friend. Probably still does. But now you want him back. Because young Mr. Potter here isn't someone who anyone would easily let slide by. He's worth something to you.

"Your name has been dragged through the mud and for some reason… he's the only one who can help your case. Is it because he is one of the few English Lords with any wealth left? Or is it because he's a friend of the family and marrying him will endear you to them? But lets not dwell on theories shall we?" Suddenly Sherlock began to smile. Not a pleasant smile, but one with teeth, like a sharks menacing smile of death. The girl was spluttering and turning an embarrassed shade of red.

"You are hurting a child that means a great deal to the man you are trying to move in on. You hate the boy. You want him gone. Because you can't have any competition for the child you are carrying. The child you want Harry to adopt and name his legal heir but won't because he is in the way. So you want Mr. Potter, an orphan, who lost his parents and any potential guardian very young, to give up his orphaned nephew who also lost his parents and potential guardian very young. But lets think on how improbable that scenario is going to work out, shall we?" The street as silent save the redhead's splutters and embarrassed half formed excuses.

My head was spinning. I knew Sherlock had a vicious tongue, but I never thought he would turn it into such a devastating weapon against a woman he didn't know in defense of a man he barely knew.

"I think you should go Ginny. " Harry murmured, gently taking the small boys arm from the enraged redhead.

"Yes, I really think you should." Sherlock almost hissed. And that was the end of that, the woman stormed down the road leaving Harry to the small child.

"I think maybe we should get inside." I suggested, trying to get the young man and his child out of the eyes of the public.

I had never seen anyone with hair quite like the little boy's, but Harry had seemed genuinely accepting of it. Vibrant blue hair is not something someone expects to see on a five year old.

"His mother wore it like that." Was all he would say on the subject. "His names Teddy by the way."

I had never seen anyone quite like Harry before. The way he handled the quite boy was nothing shot of masterful. He held him tightly and silently fussed over him, all the while keeping him perfectly still so that I could examine him.

Sherlock was sitting in – on would be the more appropriate term, as he was practically crouched on the cushions of – his chair. His fingers classically steepled in front of his chin, watching.

"He's fine. Just a little bruising, but that'll be gone in a few days." I gave Harry a slight smile with the diagnosis. The child hadn't been abused, thank goodness.

"Thank you, Dr. Watson. Mr. Holmes. I think I will take Teddy home now. We're both in need of a little rest." Harry gave a short bow of his head and headed out of the flat, Teddy holding on tightly to his hand.

I watched them go, but was ever aware of Sherlock watching me from behind. Sherlock had always acted as he pleased, but today I had seen something in him that I hadn't ever seen before. When he had verbally attacked the woman on the street he had been genuinely furious, the word Freak only making the fury bubble over.

With my brain finally catching up to me I remembered some of the things Sherlock had spouted in his fit of anger.

"Last of the English Lords?"

"It was obvious." Was the petulant response.

"How?" Sherlock didn't even answer, fading into one of his moods that would leave me doing all the talking.

"Well if your not going to tell me I have half a mind to tell Mycroft that your acting odd, almost like you've taken a hit." It was a threat, I'll admit, but it was the only one that could stir Sherlock out of his moods.

"He already knows. He's had the flat under surveillance since He moved in." Of course. "He'll probably be here in an hour or two. The video was uploaded to YouTube about two minutes before we entered Baker Street. Enough time for Mycroft to have decided to pay us a visit. Do we have any biscuits? We should probably hide them before he gets here." And just like that Sherlock retreated into his mind palace, hiding from the rest of the world. Mycroft would bring him out of it when he arrived as he always did.

Which happened to be an hour and thirty minutes after Harry and Teddy had left the flat. Mycroft Holmes – the equally annoying and dramatic – brother of Sherlock breezed into our flat with an unopened umbrella and a three-piece suit.

"Have you gained weight?" Was Sherlock's immediate question, barely even looking at his brother before moving into the dining room to pour himself a glass of water.

"No actually. I'm dieting."

"Not working." Sherlock is just as petulant and frustrating with his brother as he is with every other person to have ever had the misfortune of attracting the man's attention. The only difference being that Mycroft – the British Government - can be just as petty and ill mannered right back at him.

"Sherlock Holmes you will stop acting like a child this instant."

"Shan't."

"So help me I will call Mummy and then where will you be?" The threat of "Mummy" is the only one that can ever bring Sherlock fully out of a mood I have discovered. And only Mycroft can issue such a threat so severely that even I have felt a chill of fear at "mummy" being involved.

"What do you want Mycroft?"

"Haven't you already deduced that brother mine?" If you haven't read any of my adventures where Mycroft Holmes is involved, then the relationship the two brothers have may seem very hostile. Which it is – make no mistake of that. However Mycroft is the older brother, and when an older brother issues a challenge, it must be answered.

"You're here about Harry – Hadrian – Potter. Obvious."

"Is it really?"

"Yes. It's been an hour and fifty minutes since the video of a certain redheaded harlot and our resident mystery man fighting over a five year old has been on the Internet. You wouldn't come here over anyone, no. He's important to you. A secret perhaps? A war hero by the way people have treated him.

"But why would he be important to the British Government? You don't care about regular war heroes so why him? He's done something special. Something nobody else, but a select few, know about. He's not military, so special forces maybe. He's got no real records past the age of eleven, and the one I've seen are fake. But they're good fakes, nobody would notice unless they have an eye for it.

"So, Harry Potter, an orphaned neglected child with no history past the age of eleven or before the age of sixteen, military training but no military background, a war hero to a select few - Oh! Now that's just cheating Mycroft."

"Where Harry Potter is concerned nothing is ever quite as normal as we would like it to be." Mycroft and Sherlock were in on something together, and either they were purposefully keeping me out o the loop, or they were both completely oblivious to my presence. My money being on the latter more because of who they are and how they think.

"I'm sorry, but who are we talking about?" The Holmes brothers both gave me the look. A common occurrence from Sherlock but quite unnerving from the both of them.

"Mister Hadrian "Harry" Potter. Special Operative to her majesty and a war hero, officially." Mycroft answered.

"And off the record?"

"Harry Potter is the man who killed the terrorist leader who was leading the attacks earlier last year. And also, a wizard." I can say with complete confidence that had Mrs. Hudson not arrived home at the exact moment I lost consciousness I would probably still be lying on the floor.

TBC

A/N: So, yeah. Here you go. Sorry about the long wait, but hey it's not like the Sherlock fandom is unused to waiting for more Sherlock. The truth is, I had a major case of writers block and I had no idea on where to go with this, I don't even know if this will be Johnlock or Mary and John yet, but I think I will wait to see how it unfolds.

Also, I have yet to see any of season 4 so if you are commenting/reviewing I would appreciate no spoilers at all, I'm sure we can respect that.

DNStalker