Pieces of a chess game [Sherlock x Harry Potter Crossover] [COMPLETE]

Chapter 1: The Fake Flatmate

Chapter 1: The Fake Flatmate

The stench of old pipes, exhaust and dust lingered in her nostrils as Hermione emerged from the overcrowded underground station. She adjusted her scarf tighter around her neck against the cold January wind, thinking, not for the first time, that she should had apparated despite the queasy sensation it left in her stomach. The swarms of people thinned and dissipated the closer she got to Baker Street, and when she turned the corner, she saw an unusually quiet street, at the end of which a red awning earmarked the residence of her prospective flatmate, Dr John Watson.

Believable or not for people who knew the good doctor, John had become part of London's pop culture the way people did these days - through the internet. His blog had been a window into the weird and the strange by way of the adventures of Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, with John as his unrequited biographer. The stories had been an unexpected success, and soon both of them were followed around by fans and the press that comes sniffing a new celebrity. Sherlock had been the focus if Hermione was honest: a tall, handsome man, with abrupt manners and not many social skills, and with an ambiguous relationship with his live-in sidekick had been too good of an opportunity to speculate on for many morning shows. John had just been yet another Sherlock Holmes theory to gossip about.

It was inevitable that John would become a casualty of his own fame. When Sherlock committed suicide after being accused, judged, and declared guilty by the masses of being a charlatan and a criminal, the tabloids moved their target to the next in line. At best, they had painted John as an innocent man in love, and a willing accomplice at worst. But Sherlock's life had many more unsavoury aspects than his undisclosed relationship with John, and the doctor quickly became old news after that. All in all, Hermione thought, John had been lucky no unscrupulous journalist had sunk their claws on him in times of need.

It had been six months since Sherlock's death, and not a day had gone by in which Hermione had not checked every newspaper, app and renting website. Finally, the advertisement for an empty room in 221 Baker Street appeared in last Sunday's paper, short and with a poor description - meaning the ad was more of a necessity than a real desire to have a new person in the flat. Hermione had called the number listed immediately and had heard John's gruff voice for the first time. The shock was obvious in his voice, however, Hermione had known how to seize it to her advantage, and with no way out of the situation, John had agreed to meet her.

Before reaching the block of Georgian-style houses where 221 was, Hermione stopped and looked at her reflection on the tainted glass of a real estate agency. She undid the messy bun she had put her hair in and retouched her lipstick. She knew that getting a viewing was the easy part. All the work she had done in the last months depended on her leaving the flat with a lease contract. And although John was not the final person to decide on the lease, having John like her was the only way Martha Hudson would sign the contract.

At 221, she rang the doorbell and waited. There was a shuffle inside the house, and seconds later, the door opened, revealing a petite woman with a kind smile on her face.

"Oh dear, you are Hermione, aren't you? John told me you'd come today." Before Hermione could answer, Martha Hudson was taking her by the elbow and steering her into the foyer. "Get inside darling, this wind will get to your bones if you stand up there any longer. My bones are not what they used to be, and..."

The woman guided Hermione to the back of the house, complaining about the weather and how it made her hips worse. Hermione took off her coat while the old lady got the purple teapot from the stove and put it next to a sugar bowl and two cups on the table.

"... Luckily for me, John is a doctor. Tea?"

"Yes, thank you, Mrs..."

"Oh, how rude of me. I'm Mrs Hudson, the landlady. There you go, dear." Hermione smiled at her and accepted the cup Mrs Hudson was offering. "I was so relieved when John told me he had put the ad on the paper. I was against renting it again, but we all need to move on and frankly, I do think he needs the company."