I DON'T OWN HARRY POTTER OR SHERLOCK!

(Now Edited)

Chapter One

I walked through the park lost in thought, 'It's all my fault,' the words repeated in my head. 'I should have never gone after Voldemort. If I had only revealed my true self, my inheritance. If I had not held back my true power, and my ability to shapeshift I could have saved him.' I walked by a pool of water, it had stormed the last two weeks and everything was soaked. Looking at my reflection I saw what I truly looked like. My midnight black hair curved up and to the side, its ends dark blue. The lightning bolt scar was gone it had faded shortly after second year. Then there was my height and build. My torso was broad and my frame was tall standing at 6'3.

My musings were drawn away from my appearance by a sound splitting through the air.

Sirens… not far from here, and getting closer. 'Well I might as well.' Pulling out my wallet, I pulled out money and paid the bus fare to London. The same way the police were headed.

'Finally,' Sitting up from the stiff seat Harry climbed out of the bus, 'they were here' Sure enough, my suspicions were right. There was another murder.

In my room a few days ago I looked online and saw that there had been some very odd killings recently. 'Psychopaths.' I knew there were a lot of them in London even though few actually killed. Looking into the case I saw just how blind the police were. There was a very simple explanation to the murders. Sadly, ever since Sherlock Holmes disappeared a year ago, the police had struggled and there were more killings and suicides in London ever since he supposedly died.

I knew better. There was no way that Sherlock has really died. With all the rumors that had gone on around Sherlock there is no way that he is not used to dealing with stupid people starting stupid things. It was very simple to hack into Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock's older brother who works in the government's, computer. On it I could see that Mycroft knew what Sherlock was doing, destroying Moriarty's web.

It had only been a year and everything in London was falling apart. Someone needed to help the police restore the control they had before Sherlock disappeared. And that person was going to be me, Harry Potter. Or rather, it will be Thunder. After all, the one thing I didn't have to fake when becoming the perfect Gryffindor golden boy was my love for danger.

I was dressed in all black, tight jeans, form-fitting shirt with dark blue flames on it and a leather jacket over it. As I approached the crime scene I could see the place was marked off with tape and there were police everywhere. It was a small apartment building in a very busy place in town.

I made sure to be silent as I snuck into an alleyway nearby and looked up. 'There.' Right above me a few stories up was an open window and there wasn't any police on that floor as the crime had happened on the floor below it. I could tell that by looking at the blocked window and the inspector casting a shadow over the curtain. Carefully scaling the building, mentally thanking Merlin that it was an old one meaning the brick in some places had broken off, I climbed into the building through a window and threw on the invisibility cloak that I always hide under my coat. I slinked down a floor and looked over the scene in front of me.

Right in front of the blocked window sat a large couch on which a young woman, looking to be in her 30's, was laying. Looking about a bit more I could tell this wasn't her flat. On the walls hung pictures of a man and a woman with their two young kids. Those pictures, however, were old at least fifteen years old. Looking around a bit more I could see a picture sitting on the table under the tv in the corner. It was the same man in the other one but much older. He was posing with his two children at a wedding.

'So the wife is dead' I deduced. 'And she has been for a while seeing as that picture is at least 5 years old.'

Looking a bit more closely at the woman on the couch I saw an engagement ring on her left ring finger. No wedding band. A fiance to a widowed man… looking back at the picture of the man, woman and two kids I could see nothing wrong with her.

I walked into the bathroom which was, thankfully, open. In the hallway I could see the inspector looking at the woman confused as to why there were no markings on her. It was as if she had died in her sleep but she was completely healthy, other than the fact that she was dead. Entering the bathroom I opened the door to the cabinet being sure to not make a sound. Inside I could see many bottles of pills and in the back of it I made out a small bottle of iocane powder, a fast working, untraceable poison. I suppressed a chuckle over how stupid the inspector was as I put everything back the way it was in the cabinet. Once that was completed I made my way out into the main room and sat myself down on the hard wooden chair that was already there and waited.

'Two hours! Two bloody hours and the inspector finally left and said he couldn't figure out what happened to her.' Taking off my cloak I sat on the table legs crossed storing the cloak back into my coat. I waited just a few more minutes for detective inspector George Lestrade to come up the stairs and see me just sitting there on the table looking bemused. I then asked him, with a small smile on my face, "So, how did she die? Or are the police to daft to figure out a simple puzzle?" I wanted to catch the Detective Inspectors attention, and that I did.

Huge Thank You to my editor Catz4444 for editing my story!

As a new writer her experience has been very helpful!

Go Ahead and check out her stories...

A Family As Sweet As Chocolate

Two Hearts Are Better Than One

and

Thinking of Bluer Skies

Hope you enjoyed!