This is a crossover of Sherlock BBC, Harry Potter and Artemis Fowl. As far as I am concerned you don't have to have read Artemis Fowl to understand the storyline, but if you have any questions about references feel free to ask.

Setting:
Harry Potter (3rd Year)
Sherlock BBC(Prereichenbach)
Artemis Fowl (after The Arctic Incident)

John wasn't as much the sitting down type as Mrs. Hudson had once claimed, but he started to wonder if staying home in the flat and out of Sherlock's cases would have been better.

If he had, he certainly wouldn't be standing here at King's Cross, looking for a mysterious platform 9 3/4. And he certainly wouldn't be stuck in the body of a 14-year-old.

He glanced at Sherlock who also looked insanely younger than he really was. The Consulting Detective was studying the wall between platforms 9 and 10.

"As long as those wizards don't use another number system we can assume that this mysterious gate has to be right between platform 9 and 10" the 14-year-old Sherlock stated.

He paused and a certain joy appeared on his face.

"Look at those!"

John's eyes searched the platform for something unusual. He found a big family carrying wagons loaded with enormous trunks. They stopped just opposite the wall between 9 and 10. One of the boys started running towards it, and then he disappeared.

If John hadn't been abducted by fairies just the day before, he probably would've been stunned, but now he felt like nothing could really surprise him anymore. One by one, the family members disappeared into the wall. When they were all away, Sherlock turned to John smiling.

"I think now we can be sure where we can find the platform of 9 3/4."

The Consulting Detective straightened and walked toward the point where the wizard family had stood.

"You're sure we have to run?" John asked when he figured out Sherlock's plan. "Can't we just go there and lean to the wall, or something like that?"

Sherlock snorted. "Of course we can't! Imagine any person could do that and suddenly find themselves on the other side! No, there has to be more protection!"

Not waiting if John had any further complaints, Sherlock started running toward the wall and disappeared. John sighed; it seemed like he had to do the same, and he would have to bring their luggage with him.

Platform 9 3/4 was noisy and crowded. There were hundreds of parents saying goodbye to their children and several owls were screaming. For a moment John just stood there and consumed the scenery, then Sherlock interrupted his thoughts.

"Come on we have to find us good seats!"

Sherlock disappeared in the crowd without looking back to see if John was following him. He never did, he always assumed the ex-soldier could keep track of him without effort. Even under normal circumstances (like a crowded Trafalgar Square) John found this habit annoying, but now, carrying two rather big suitcases, it seemed quite impossible.

He followed Sherlock as fast as he could, mumbling excuses each time he bumped into people, or wagons, or cages with owls in them. He'd already lost sight of Sherlock.

Not knowing any better, he decided just to keep walking vaguely in the direction Sherlock had headed, hoping he would find him in the train at last. Stretching to get a better view (having the height of a 14 year old still irritated him), he didn't watch his step and he tripped over a trunk, making a hard impact on the ground. He felt the sudden pain as his hand got skinned. It made him cry out.

"Oh, sorry! You're okay?" asked the high voice of a girl.

"Yes", he muttered sitting up still feeling a bit shocked from the fall. The girl leaned down to him, shooting a critical look at his bleeding hands. She had bushy brown hair and seemed around 14: his age, as he forced himself to remember.

"Your hands are bleeding," she stated.

"It's nothing" he claimed and he automatically hid them.

"Let me fix it" she insisted matter-of-factly. She pulled out a piece of wood, which John identified as a wand.

He felt his heart rate increasing and couldn't help feeling terrified; the girl was about to do magic. Real magic.

Though Sherlock had said that the fairies also had magic, all he had seen of them yesterday was very much high-tech. {Perhaps add more description of the difference between the fairies and the wizards, it would be useful if someone reading this hadn't read Artemis Fowl}

Still not really feeling comfortable, John extended his hands towards the girl. A concentrated expression appeared on the girl's face and she made some complicated gestures with her wand before she softly tapped his hand with its wooden tip.

Instantly John felt a prickling sensation on his skin. He looked down saw that the wounds (which really hadn't been too bad) disappeared. Amazement rushed through him, but he tried his best to hide it from his face. He told himself that what had just happened was probably totally normal to a wizard.

"Thank you," he said instead as the girl finished, making it sound it was no big deal.

"You're welcome." A smile crossed her face, then she turned to him, frowning.

"Who are you, by the way? You look too old to be a first year, but I've never seen you at Hogwarts before."

John felt his stomach drop. This was the moment he had feared the most: the moment someone asked him where he had come from.

"I was homeschooled", he answered banning the uncertainty from his voice. "I know it's pretty unusual, but we lived in Alaska because of some studies my father was involved with."

To his relief, the girl didn't cry "liar" at him. Her face lit with interest.

"Homeschooled? I've read of that before. Did you have to-"

"Hermione!", someone shouted suddenly. The girl turned around as a tall boy with red hair ran toward her, followed by another with wild black hair and glasses.

"Harry! Ron!" the girl cried. John could see smiles lighting up all of their faces.

"How have your holidays been?" the black-haired one asked, after they'd all hugged.

"Great!" she answered, "I went to France and you can't imagine how much I learned about their history. During the seventh century they were the leading country of the international..."

Her voice trailed of as she saw one of the boys rolling his eyes.

"Oh, Ron, you should really show more interest in our history!" she complained.

She took a deep breath, probably to go on with her lecture about the importance of history, but the boy with the messy hair seized the opportunity to changed the topic.

"And who is this?" he asked pointing at John.

The girl -Hermione- turned around again. "Oh this is-", she stopped as she realized she had asked for his story but not for his name.

"John Watson" John jumped in, automatically offering his hand but stopping half way as he wasn't sure if this was an appropriate greeting among teenagers.

"Oh, yes" The girl continued, "He was homeschooled in Alaska. John, this is Harry", she pointed at the black-haired boy, "and Ron", she pointed at the other.

"Hi", said both of them.

John added a far too formal "Pleasure to meet you".

The tall boy -Ron- shot the train a short glance. John became aware of the fact that the platform was less crowded as it had been when he arrived. Most of the students had already entered the train.

"We had better go now." Harry pointed out, "Ron and I have already found us a nice compartment."

He turned to Hermione. "Which trunk yours? These two?"

He gestured at hers and Sherlock's.

"Two?!" Ron interrupted before she could answer. "Do you have so many books this year they didn't fit in a single one?"

"No, this is a friend of mine's." John explained. "He's already wandered off onto the train, leaving me with his luggage."

He heard Ron muttering something that sounded like "great friend", but the other boy stepped on Ron's foot, then asked if John wanted to come with them instead.

John knew there wasn't much point in looking for Sherlock, and he gladly agreed.

Reviews are highly appreciated! Tell me what you liked (if you liked anything) and what could be improved!