Challenge Accepted

Fandoms: Sherlock/HP

Pairings: Potterlock

Prompt: "So we've never met but our showers are on opposite sides of the same apartment wall so sometimes we're showering together at the same time and we sing duets." AU

Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. At all.

The first time had been an accident. A recent acquisition from one of his puzzles at the morgue had seemingly exploded when placed in the microwave with various liquids of potentially harmful substances.

Watson was sure to be unimpressed, not to mention they were now in sore need of a new microwave.

He had gone in to take an early shower, something he constantly pushed till the end of the day. After all what use was there of a shower when he could spend his time doing far more productive activities; (he refused to listen to the inner voice in his head that remarked on how many hours he spent in faux boredom alone.)

The shower had been nothing of note, rather it had been what occurred during his daily cleansing cycle that was different.

Someone was singing.

It was an old song, not really something most would listen to now. The man, for no matter how light their voice was he could still detect the undertones of masculinity there, had a rather pleasing voice; at least from what he could hear over the sound of running water.

He knew the apartments were all connected, but had never cared enough to look into the layouts of those connected to his own room. So it came as a surprise to realize that the shower to 221 C was connected to his own. He didn't think too much on it however, and spent the rest of his shower simply listening to the stranger on the other side of the wall, promptly forgetting all about the new occurrence when Watson came home and promptly threw a fit over the need of several new appliances.

It was a week later, and after another failed experiment that he found himself taking an early shower again, listening once more to his rather musically inclined neighbor. The song was a familiar one, as he'd been playing it recently on his violin. He wondered for a moment if his mysterious neighbor had overheard his performance and had decided to do a follow up with words. He had to admit the man had a pleasant voice, and a part of him was tempted to take his violin into the bath with him in order and follow along; were it not for the fact that the poor instrument would become horribly warped were he to do just that. Instead he hummed along softly, his own low baritone adding a nice groove to the stranger's soft alto.

Two weeks later and he was considering the thought that he may be developing some stalker like tendencies. He had yet to look up his mysterious neighbor, a part of him believing the fun would be over should he have a name and face to give to the man. Rather he had taken to having early showers now, eager to hear which song his neighbor would be singing that day. Yet today, he had something a bit different in mind for their daily interaction, even if it was for the moment unknown to the other party.

The song started, soft and lilting, some of the lyrics obscured by the running water, and right as the man took a pause, he continued where the other had left off. There was silence from the other side for a moment, and he felt his heart start to beat uncomfortably fast as his face started to turn a rather unbecoming shade of red before the singing continued again. A smile tugged it's way on his lips then, the rest of the shower spent singing various songs together, their voices meshing and providing a fetching melody if he did say so himself.

The plan had been a success, not that he had thought it would go any differently of course.

Mysterious neighbor had a dog, and could be no older then seventeen. He felt uncomfortable with that information, before deciding to ignore it and pay it no mind. He had after all done far worse things in life then developing a sort of attraction to an underaged teen, even if that attraction was currently more towards the boy's voice then anything else.

Not that he was attracted to his neighbor. The fact that he knew the teen had short, untamable hair was only because he could see a few strands stuck on his well worn jacket. Really if he didn't want anyone to know that or that he run away from his abusive relatives, then he shouldn't be leaving his things where they could easily seen by others. The fact that his neighbor had been abused also didn't anger him, and of course he didn't have any plans to hunt them down and ruin their no doubt pristine reputation.

The files on his computer on everyone that lived in Private Drive Surrey was a simple coincidence. And if a few of those living there had caught his attention, especially those in Number 4 well…

He could simply blame it on his boredom as he delightfully alerted the local precinct to the fact that Vernon Dursley had been embezzling from his company for the last decade and a half.

Really, he wasn't doing this for his neighbor. Even if he did enjoy their duets; this was simply him practicing at being a model citizen as he alerted the police to a few unscrupulous figures, that was all there was to it. Truly.

And if he had coincidentally asked Mrs. Hudson a bit about the teen, well it had only been mere idle curiosity. Even John would approve his move to learn more about their neighbors, and so with that thought, he stayed firm in his knowledge that there was nothing peculiar about his habits at all.

Really.

His actions were perfectly acceptable.

The dog was loud, and annoying. In the middle of one of their duets, it had barged into his neighbors bath, making the teen laugh mid song and causing his attention to leave.

He wasn't jealous.

Of course not.

Who would be jealous of a dog after all?

It had been several months now, and his curiosity over his neighbor was growing more with each passing day. The teen didn't go to school, and had no job from what he could gather, yet was easily able to afford his apartment and food, though he did a have rather dreadful taste in clothes. Not that it was his own fault, from what he could gather. Most of them were secondhand, likely from a relative of his, but a few of them were so worn and beaten up that he wondered why the teen didn't simply buy himself a new jacket at the very least. Winter was coming after all, Watson had remarked on the fact himself after coming home late from work, shivering in his thin jumper.

He stared at the rather sorry looking coat that Mysterious neighbor owned before nodding his head in determination and taking it off the hook.

He was sure the teen wouldn't mind.

Apparently ratty jumpers were now precious heirlooms fit to be treasured by the queen.

Mrs. Hudson had given him a bit of a stink eye at his confession of the in hindsight, rather careless theft. Though her glare did lesson at the new coat he had bought for the teen.

"He's such a sweet boy Sherlock." She hummed thoughtfully before setting aside the coat to give to the teen later on. "Reminds me a bit of you and John really."

The gift had been appreciated, as he'd received several delightful baked delights in return, and to his own enjoyment, was allowed to keep the coat he'd swiped. After all, he doubted that anyone would care if he had kept the coat instead of throwing it away as he'd told Mrs. Hudson he'd done.

And if John had been a tad confused on where all the food was coming from well… He was allowed his own secrets.

His neighbor's name was Harry, and his dog was uncomfortably intelligent. The large hound had found it's way to his room, and as a result, interrupted his planned shower. It had a seemingly sly grin on it's face as he took in the tags on it's collar. Padfoot was the beast's name, and Harry Potter his owner's.

His heart had started to beat faster then he was used to at that information, something he quickly cataloged before pushing away to take in the intruder.

Said intruder was busy sniffing at everything it could find in his living room, leaving behind strands of it's shaggy black hair. The dog huffed for a bit before flopping down on Watson's new slippers, looking a mixture of proud at itself and terribly bored all mixed into one.

He sighed before moving to his chair, watching the mutt warily in case it decided to munch on something unfortunate. He did not want to be the one to tell Mysterious- Harry that his dog had passed on thanks to eating some cyanide.

That was a conversation he would rather avoid if it could be helped.

He refused to admit he was pouting when he finally deciding to make the awfully long trek to 221C. Padfoot had looked vaguely amused at him as he knocked on the door and waited.

And waited.

And then waited some more.

It seems that even if he had gone to shower, he would have missed his neighbor regardless. Harry wasn't home, and the question on just how his mutt had found it's way into his own apartment grew with each passing moment. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion at the mangy beast, and received an innocent look in return.

Mrs. Hudson came by several hours later, an amused expression on her face at the sight of the great hound taking up most of the living room as it rolled around the floor, having torn to tatters Watson's slippers in the ensuing hours.

"I can take him for you dear."

"No." Sherlock started, coughing and looking away, trying not to grimace as the beast pranced over to him and slobbered on his pant leg for the seventh time in the last hour. "I can wait for his owner."

She smiled, the look seeming far too sly on her gentle features. "If that's what you want…" She placed a hand to her lips, hiding a smirk of her own. "I'll let the dear know when he comes home, though I warn you he'll be late."

"It's fine." He huffed. Honestly, the dog had already been with him for several hours, a few more wouldn't kill him.

He was going to kill that mutt.

Or at least he would have were it not for Mycroft. The look of bemusement had been amusing, as had the following look of shock and horror when the great beast practically tackled the man to the ground. It had barked in victory before proceeding to slobber all over Mycroft's once immaculate face.

Honestly, he could now see why people adored dogs, he was tempted to get one himself really.

His thoughts on potential canine adoption however came to a stop when a knock sounded from the door, followed by a familiar voice.

He had stilled, not quite believing it. He had heard that voice numerous times before in the shower, but now… now he would have a face to put to the voice that had been capturing his attention for the last several months.

He ignored his brother's collapsed body and the glare directed his way, absentmindedly patting Padfoot for a job well done as he made his way to the door. Pausing for only the briefest of moment, he turned the handle and finally obtained his first look of his mysterious neighbor.

Harry Potter lived in 221C, and while he had yet to know it, he would soon be a Holmes.

After all, it's not like he would be 17 forever.

…

Right?

A/N: And that's mine rather terrible attempt at this prompt. I've been wanting to write a PotterLock story though, so this little drabble was as good an excuse as any. Hope you all enjoyed and please leave a review if you did! Thank you and till next time!