[Discontinued] When Shadows Collide, The Game Begins

Chapter One

The Dursleys were - to an untrained eye - a perfectly normal family. They had a son, Dudley, who was only a few years old, a nice house in Surrey, and, it seemed, not a care in the world.
However, if you did have a trained eye - as was the case of Sherlock Holmes - you would notice things that would seem insignificant to anyone else. Like the constant wary looks, the fact that they spoiled their child so much he screamed if he wasn't holding something brand new, as if to tell the child before them that he was the greatest and the only one that mattered, something that an only child would have no reason not to believe.
Upon seeing these things, Sherlock Holmes decided to investigate. These people were hiding something, and he was determined to find out what it was. The opportunity to do just that presented itself only a few months later. A murder on Privet Drive, the very same street the Dursley's lived on.
"Freak!" He heard someone yell on the other side of the door. The name made him shudder. Freak was a name he was only too used to. "You can't do anything! Stupid child!" This confirmed Sherlock's suspicions, the Dursley's would never speak to their son that way. That meant there was another child in the house. He knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" It was the same gruff voice that had been yelling at the child.
"My name is Sherlock Holmes. I'm with the police." The door opened.
"And why are you here?" The man asked. Sherlock sighed. He recognised the man as Vernon Dursley. Hardly surprising, as that was the reason he had taken this case.
"There was a murder." The man's face paled. "I'm here to question you. Not that I think you did it." Mr Dursley begrudgingly let him in.
As they walked past the cupboard under the stairs, Sherlock noticed that the door was regularly slammed and it had a padlock. He moved closer and heard a quiet sobbing coming from within.
"What do you keep in here?" He asked, knowing that Mr Dursley wasn't going to tell him the truth.
"Nothing, just coats." Sherlock nodded.
"And your coats need to be locked in do they?" Sweat appeared on Mr Dursley's brow.
"The ... Um ... Door. It won't stay closed." He said. Sherlock held out his hand for the key and Mr Dursley slowly placed it in his palm. Sherlock unlocked the door and was appalled to see a young child, no more than three, huddled up in the corner, hugging himself and crying. Sherlock turned around and punched Mr Dursley in the face. Mr Dursley cried out in pain and Greg Lestrade ran inside.
"Jeez Sherlock, what did you do that for!" Sherlock said nothing, only pointing at the cupboard. "Oh my god," Lestrade whispered. He turned around and faced Mr Dursley, who was holding a bleeding nose. "Mr Dursley, you are under arrest on suspicion of child abuse and neglect. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence." Mr Dursley was so shocked he didn't even try to stop Lestrade from handcuffing him. It was at this time that Mrs Dursley entered the foyer and let out a scream at the sight of her husband.
"I'll leave this one up to you, Lestrade," Sherlock said, a smirk finding its way onto his face. He then went into the cupboard and looked at the small, black-haired boy who was crying more than ever.
"Hey there." The kid looked up at the sound of an unfamiliar voice. He saw the blurry outline of a man. He had told the Dursley's that everything was blurry, but they said it was because he was always crying. He had accepted that there didn't seem to be any other explanation.
"Why was Aunty yelling?" He asked the man.
"Because you're never going to see them again." The look of joy was so absolute on the little boys face, it made Sherlock himself want to smile.
"Where am I going?" He asked.
"You're coming home with me." And Sherlock picked up the painfully thin boy and walked out of the cupboard.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"Harry, Harry Potter."

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So, thanks for reading this. Just saying, you kind of need to have watched BBC's Sherlock for this to make sense. And read Harry Potter, of course.
Please feel free to tell me to hurry up with updates and to point out any grammatical errors and spelling mistakes.