Fic: Happenstance, Gen. 1/1.
Mar. 27th, 2011 09:06 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
katydidmischief posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
cjs_owndisclaimer. Not mine. If they were... well, we all know how naughty fangirls' minds are.
title. Happenstance
rating. G
pairing. Holmes & Watson, friendship.
summary. Some sort of foretold event in time.
crossover. Sherlock/HP
notes. Damn you, kink meme and your infiltration of my life.
History recorded the meeting as some great happenstance, as some sort of foretold event in time, but really, it was nothing special: Sherlock stood in the middle of the platform, taking in the hustle and noise as children and wizarding parents scurried about, and John's attentions were on waving farewell to his parents as they headed back toward the barrier. The latter, about to start his third year, wasn't paying attention and thus, walked backwards without so much as a glance behind him, and right into Sherlock.
Holmes was a small boy (his mother had lamented that both her boys were late bloomers; Sherlock had attempted to point out that boys reached puberty later than girls, but given up when she'd called in his father) and he slammed to the ground, the meager personal belongings he'd chosen to bring scattering about the tiling. A marble ("It's a crystal," he'd said. "It's a marble," his mother had retorted.) skittered toward the edge of the track, several pencils and a journal slid to a halt near a gaggle of redheads clearly members of the Weasley clan; a bracelet, heavy weight and masculine, landed beside Jack Harper's bags.
"Sorry!" John started, running after the wayward marble. He'd nearly had it, too, but it slipped the edge and fallen into the crevice under the train and his cheeks reddened; his mother was always after him to pay better attention to his surroundings so accidents like this wouldn't happen.
He sighed as he turned back to the younger boy; Sherlock had gathered the rest of his things and was presently stuffing them hastily into his rucksack while either Fred or George (John sometimes, in frustrated moments, wondered if even Mrs. Weasley could tell them apart) stood beside him and gestured toward random people.
Knowing how overwhelming the twins could be, John quickly moved back to Sherlock's side. He extended a hand and greeted, "John Watson."
"Sherlock Holmes."
"Are your parents here?"
Sherlock shook his head, dark curls bouncing against his neck. "Father doesn't approve, probably based on some antiquated notion about sorcery, and mummy is helping Mycroft move house."
"And this is your first year, yeah?"
"Yes."
John lifted one corner of his mouth in a grin. "Come sit with me then. Cabin'll be a bit crowded, but it's not too long a ride."
Sherlock thought it over for a moment, pondering his options, and surprised both of them when he answered, "All right."
title. Happenstance
rating. G
pairing. Holmes & Watson, friendship.
summary. Some sort of foretold event in time.
crossover. Sherlock/HP
notes. Damn you, kink meme and your infiltration of my life.
History recorded the meeting as some great happenstance, as some sort of foretold event in time, but really, it was nothing special: Sherlock stood in the middle of the platform, taking in the hustle and noise as children and wizarding parents scurried about, and John's attentions were on waving farewell to his parents as they headed back toward the barrier. The latter, about to start his third year, wasn't paying attention and thus, walked backwards without so much as a glance behind him, and right into Sherlock.
Holmes was a small boy (his mother had lamented that both her boys were late bloomers; Sherlock had attempted to point out that boys reached puberty later than girls, but given up when she'd called in his father) and he slammed to the ground, the meager personal belongings he'd chosen to bring scattering about the tiling. A marble ("It's a crystal," he'd said. "It's a marble," his mother had retorted.) skittered toward the edge of the track, several pencils and a journal slid to a halt near a gaggle of redheads clearly members of the Weasley clan; a bracelet, heavy weight and masculine, landed beside Jack Harper's bags.
"Sorry!" John started, running after the wayward marble. He'd nearly had it, too, but it slipped the edge and fallen into the crevice under the train and his cheeks reddened; his mother was always after him to pay better attention to his surroundings so accidents like this wouldn't happen.
He sighed as he turned back to the younger boy; Sherlock had gathered the rest of his things and was presently stuffing them hastily into his rucksack while either Fred or George (John sometimes, in frustrated moments, wondered if even Mrs. Weasley could tell them apart) stood beside him and gestured toward random people.
Knowing how overwhelming the twins could be, John quickly moved back to Sherlock's side. He extended a hand and greeted, "John Watson."
"Sherlock Holmes."
"Are your parents here?"
Sherlock shook his head, dark curls bouncing against his neck. "Father doesn't approve, probably based on some antiquated notion about sorcery, and mummy is helping Mycroft move house."
"And this is your first year, yeah?"
"Yes."
John lifted one corner of his mouth in a grin. "Come sit with me then. Cabin'll be a bit crowded, but it's not too long a ride."
Sherlock thought it over for a moment, pondering his options, and surprised both of them when he answered, "All right."
