Harry Potter and the Consulting Detective : Prologue
Title: Harry Potter and the Consulting Detective
Chapter: Prologue
Authors: wrecksfic & riddlemesphinx
Pairing: none
Fandom: BBC!Sherlock, Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 771
Spoilers: Series 1 of Sherlock, Post-Deathly Hallows, Non-Epilogue Compliant
Warnings: None
To be quite honest, the situation could simply not be ignored any longer. Despite the deliberate lack of media coverage, the press was becoming more aware of the real situation. They were going to start demanding answers, perhaps even cause panic. But the fact of the matter was that he could not- and would not- admit what was plainly happening right under his nose.
Which is how the Prime Minister found himself sitting stiffly behind his desk, with his guest relaxed and sipping tea. The Prime Minister had never had much contact with the other man- the less he knew, and all that- but he had no doubt that he was the right person for the job. He was unflappable, the Prime Minister had heard.
“I really appreciate you taking taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me this morning,” the Prime Minister said once they had both settled.
“Oh, I could never refuse a meeting with you,” his visitor replied smoothly. “Less important matters can always be rescheduled, you know.”
“Yes, well.” The Prime Minister coughed and tried to find a way to ease into the topic.
“Was there something you wanted to discuss or am I merely enjoying the pleasures of a social call?” the other man asked, with a small laugh, although there was little humor in the sound. In fact, he sounded almost impatient, as though the Prime Minister was wasting his time.
“Of course you are here for a reason,” the Prime Minister snapped, trying to gain control of the conversation again. The man motioned for the Prime Minister, who looked scandalized, to continue.
“Well, how shall I begin...” the Prime Minister stood up and began pacing behind his desk. “In the past few months, there has been a significant increase in the number of kidnappings across Britain. You may have read about one or two of the more prominent cases here in London- the families were well known, raised quite a fuss, naturally- but the rest have been kept much quieter.”
The man listened, though he appeared almost bored, as if he heard this sort of tale every day. But when he gave no indication that he was going to speak, the Prime Minister continued.
“We’ve brought in forensic experts and watched CCTV footage, but it just doesn’t make any sense.”
The Prime Minister sighed, sitting back down behind his desk and shaking his head.
The man across from him sipped his tea for a moment in thought. Finally, he asked calmly, “How many children so far?”
“Thirty, as of this morning,” the Prime Minister admitted grimly.
“And I assume you’ve been working with Interpol?”
“And consulting with the FBI - Federal Kidnapping Act, you know. Neither have any leads.”
“I see,” the man said, understanding dawning on him. “So, what you want is someone who can work on their own, and you’ve heard about my brother, so naturally you thought-”
His manner was so cool at the disappearance of so many innocent children that it infuriated the Prime Minister. He shot back out of his seat. “No, no, that’s not it!”
The man watched him now, confusion just barely discernible in his features.
“Don’t you understand?” The Prime Minister roared, clutching at his graying hair. “It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before. The children are completely missing; they’ve vanished without a trace. There are literally no signs of any break-ins or foul play; the few suspects we’ve had were weak at best, and they all had air-tight alibis.” The Prime Minister paused for effect. “There should have been a sign of one child, at least- a whisper, anything at all- in thirty cases. But no one has seen any evidence that these children are even missing, except for the fact that they are no longer in their homes. They have quite literally vanished as if by-” he stopped, and only the keenest of observers would have noticed how his eyes flickered over to a small portrait of a frog-like man in the corner.
“As if by magic,” the Prime Minister finished in a whisper.
Mycroft Holmes calmly returned his teacup to his saucer from where it had frozen halfway to his mouth when the Prime Minister had started his rant, and set both items on the table in front of him.
“Let me make some calls,” Mycroft said, standing and moving towards the door.
“But,” the Prime Minister spluttered.
Mycroft arched an eyebrow, and the Prime Minister suddenly felt as though he were being scolded for arguing.
“Trust me,” Mycroft said, before retrieving his umbrella and showing himself out.
Chapter: Prologue
Authors: wrecksfic & riddlemesphinx
Pairing: none
Fandom: BBC!Sherlock, Harry Potter
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 771
Spoilers: Series 1 of Sherlock, Post-Deathly Hallows, Non-Epilogue Compliant
Warnings: None
To be quite honest, the situation could simply not be ignored any longer. Despite the deliberate lack of media coverage, the press was becoming more aware of the real situation. They were going to start demanding answers, perhaps even cause panic. But the fact of the matter was that he could not- and would not- admit what was plainly happening right under his nose.
Which is how the Prime Minister found himself sitting stiffly behind his desk, with his guest relaxed and sipping tea. The Prime Minister had never had much contact with the other man- the less he knew, and all that- but he had no doubt that he was the right person for the job. He was unflappable, the Prime Minister had heard.
“I really appreciate you taking taking time out of your busy schedule to meet with me this morning,” the Prime Minister said once they had both settled.
“Oh, I could never refuse a meeting with you,” his visitor replied smoothly. “Less important matters can always be rescheduled, you know.”
“Yes, well.” The Prime Minister coughed and tried to find a way to ease into the topic.
“Was there something you wanted to discuss or am I merely enjoying the pleasures of a social call?” the other man asked, with a small laugh, although there was little humor in the sound. In fact, he sounded almost impatient, as though the Prime Minister was wasting his time.
“Of course you are here for a reason,” the Prime Minister snapped, trying to gain control of the conversation again. The man motioned for the Prime Minister, who looked scandalized, to continue.
“Well, how shall I begin...” the Prime Minister stood up and began pacing behind his desk. “In the past few months, there has been a significant increase in the number of kidnappings across Britain. You may have read about one or two of the more prominent cases here in London- the families were well known, raised quite a fuss, naturally- but the rest have been kept much quieter.”
The man listened, though he appeared almost bored, as if he heard this sort of tale every day. But when he gave no indication that he was going to speak, the Prime Minister continued.
“We’ve brought in forensic experts and watched CCTV footage, but it just doesn’t make any sense.”
The Prime Minister sighed, sitting back down behind his desk and shaking his head.
The man across from him sipped his tea for a moment in thought. Finally, he asked calmly, “How many children so far?”
“Thirty, as of this morning,” the Prime Minister admitted grimly.
“And I assume you’ve been working with Interpol?”
“And consulting with the FBI - Federal Kidnapping Act, you know. Neither have any leads.”
“I see,” the man said, understanding dawning on him. “So, what you want is someone who can work on their own, and you’ve heard about my brother, so naturally you thought-”
His manner was so cool at the disappearance of so many innocent children that it infuriated the Prime Minister. He shot back out of his seat. “No, no, that’s not it!”
The man watched him now, confusion just barely discernible in his features.
“Don’t you understand?” The Prime Minister roared, clutching at his graying hair. “It’s like nothing we’ve ever seen before. The children are completely missing; they’ve vanished without a trace. There are literally no signs of any break-ins or foul play; the few suspects we’ve had were weak at best, and they all had air-tight alibis.” The Prime Minister paused for effect. “There should have been a sign of one child, at least- a whisper, anything at all- in thirty cases. But no one has seen any evidence that these children are even missing, except for the fact that they are no longer in their homes. They have quite literally vanished as if by-” he stopped, and only the keenest of observers would have noticed how his eyes flickered over to a small portrait of a frog-like man in the corner.
“As if by magic,” the Prime Minister finished in a whisper.
Mycroft Holmes calmly returned his teacup to his saucer from where it had frozen halfway to his mouth when the Prime Minister had started his rant, and set both items on the table in front of him.
“Let me make some calls,” Mycroft said, standing and moving towards the door.
“But,” the Prime Minister spluttered.
Mycroft arched an eyebrow, and the Prime Minister suddenly felt as though he were being scolded for arguing.
“Trust me,” Mycroft said, before retrieving his umbrella and showing himself out.