Alright so, to start off, I would like to explain what this fanfiction is. This fanfiction is a combination of the three things that I've been obsessing over lately. Harry Potter, Dollhouse, and Sherlock. It takes place three years after the seventh book of Harry Potter but I have no idea when it takes place in relation to the other two series. Fred Weasley is the main character and to be honest it killed me writing him as a Doll from Dollhouse. I had to completely wipe him of personality and memory, as a Fred fangirl that just killed me.

Anyways, time for warnings:

1) Three way crossover.

2) OCs. Several OCs that work for the London Dollhouse.

3) OCxFred. Sorry for that.

4) OOC-ness on Fred's part but that's only when he's working as a Doll.

5) Prone to rewrites and adding more warnings as the story progresses.

Please enjoy the story :) and Reviews are always welcome.

Fred's mind still felt groggy, he couldn't remember the last time he slept, not counting when his body had sent him into a coma to save his life from a collapsing wall. Everything had been happening so fast since then and now he was sitting across the table from the most intimidating person he had ever seen, except perhaps his mother. The man, who had introduced himself as Dr. Archer, had black hair, sprinkled with bits of grey, and had glasses that hid his devious blue eyes. It wasn't anything about his appearance that frightened Fred, not his overly clean business suit or his square jaw or the frown lines around his mouth. What frightened him was the way he held himself, like he owned everything, including Fred himself.

"So, Mr. Weasley was it?" The man gave a smug smile that looked unnatural on his aged face.

Fred nodded.

"You've heard our offer. Sign this contract, and five years of your life belong to us, and after those five years you're free to go with the large amount of money you have earned. Another plus, whatever trauma you are suffering from will seem to be erased when you leave."

"Not my memories though, those will stay intact, right?" Fred asked.

"Of course." He smiled.

Fred looked at the paper in front of him, honestly considering his two options. He could walk out, assuming that this man would let him, and go back home. The idea seemed so good at this point but he couldn't shake the image his family crying, for him, they thought he was dead. He had hurt them so badly. Then there was this option, five years with these people and supposedly all his guilt would disappear. After, maybe, he would go home and explain to them what had happened.

Only after he had thought of both options extensively, he signed the contract and looked up at Dr. Archer. "Excellent," He said and stood up, walking to the only door in the small room which he opened. "Erin, would escort Mr. Weasley here to the imprinting room?"

A girl, who looked much to young to be a part of this Dollhouse, walked into the room. She seemed small, and it wasn't her stature that made her seem so, she was average height. She slouched, and hid under the folds in a large ratty green sweatshirt that was the same color as the eyes that were lurking under a short mop of red curls. She almost looked like a mouse, the way her nose pointed and her freckles seemed like the roots for whiskers that weren't there.

"This way, please, Mr. Weasley." She said in a small voice.

Fred got up from his chair and a small part of him dreaded what this tiny girl could do.

Three years later

Renee turned over in the bed to look at the handsome man next to her. He had just woken up as well and the two seemed to be on their way to a nice quiet morning, though Renee knew it was close to ending.

"Morning," He smiled at her before planting a kiss on her lips.

"Morning, feeling alright?" She asked, thinking of the extensive exercise they had gone through the night before.

"Well I'm a bit sore but nothing that a little love won't hurt." He smirked and kissed along her neck, soft and sweet. He stopped when he realized that she wasn't exactly enjoying his touch. "You alright, love?" He asked, moving a strand of blond hair out of her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, James" She faked a smile and kissed him. The two spent a while cuddling under the blankets, enjoying the others company on the quiet morning until James' phone rang.

"Damn, that'll be the office calling." He fetched the small flip phone off the night stand. "Hello?" He answered as Renee played with his red hair. "Oh, a treatment? This early? Alright, I'll be right out." He hung up the phone. "Sorry love, I gotta run." He kissed her on the forehead before getting out of bed and picking up his clothes. "I'll call you." He smiled.

"Right, of course you will." She nodded from the bed.

James left her flat, with the complete intention to call her and maybe even start a relationship with the girl he was met at the bookstore. When he got into the black van with the woman who had dropped him off at the bookstore the night before he felt really good about what he was gonna do after his treatment. "I'm actually going to call this one." He told the woman. "I mean, she's smart, she's funny, sure she's not a beauty queen but that's not a bad thing. I really think she and I will go somewhere. You know what I mean, Joan?"

The blonde woman, who wore her hair in a tight bun over her head, nodded. "Believe it or not I've heard this a million times, from a million different men." Her bright blue eyes staring out the window. She was a thin woman with a heart shaped face and flawless makeup. Yet, that still didn't make her pretty. She just looked fake.

"Well, I mean it," He smiled and reclined in his seat.

Joan rolled her eyes, because she honestly had heard this from a million different men. All these different men looked the same though. The same red hair, and brown eyes, same square jaw and thin lips. That's because, physically, they were the same man. This man, when he wasn't out on engagements was called Rapier, and Joan was his handler. She was in charge of seeing him to his engagements and making sure nothing went wrong. Rapier trusted her, an artificial bond of trust that was nearly impossible to break. That's why, every time, he would get into the van with her, without question. Joan always found it amazing when she thought about it everything she could do with that trust. She could do anything to Rapier without him protesting.

They reached the underground parking garage that had the elevator which would take them into the underground building that was the London Dollhouse. James, or as Joan called him, Rapier, was still going on about Erin as they descended in the elevator.

"After my treatment, will you bring me back by her flat? I really think I should tell her how I feel."

"Of course, I'll take you back right after your treatment." She lied to him as he changed from the white button up shirt and slacks to the baggy red tank top and sweatpants that he wore as a Doll. She didn't follow him into the Imprint room. Erin didn't like her much and she didn't feel like started an argument with the girl who could make any Doll into a killer if she wanted to.

"Hello, James." Erin greeted him as he laid down into the imprinting chair.

"Hey, can we get this treatment done quickly? I wanna get back to Renee." He asked.

"Of course." She smiled and started the treatment. The imprinting and wiping of Dolls, or actives as some preferred to call them, was preformed in a high-tech chair that reclined so the Doll's head was encased in type of hallo that emitted bright blue light as it worked, clearing the Doll's mind or filling it with whatever Erin had programmed into the chair. Erin, sometimes while watching, would remind herself that it hurts the Dolls when it happens. A complete reworking of their brain and what they thought was real. You could tell it hurt just by looking at them, their bodies would stiffen and jerk slightly, their faces would become contorted with pain. Then, in a moment it would be over and the chair would raise itself into a sitting position. The Doll would look at her blankly and say-

"Did I fall asleep?" Rapier's voice broke her from her thoughts.

She looked at him and smiled. "For a little while."

"Should I go now?" He asked.

"If you like," She said and he got up and walked out of the imprinting room