Raising Harry

Chapter 1

Sherlock heard the clatter of a pan, and the shouts of a man, and the soft pleading of a small child. Curious, and maybe a little more than angry, Sherlock made his way up to the drive closely followed by John who could here the soft whimpering of the boy as they finally reached the door.

Sherlock knocked politely and took in his surroundings. The garden immaculate, without weeds and every flower placed perfectly. The front door a bright welcoming white, and the windows spotless but the drapes drawn, and dark, and heavy. No, something was not right in this house.

The door was opened to show a woman with a horse like face and a little boy that resembled a beach ball.

"How can I help you gentlemen?" The horse-woman asked.

Sherlock could here the sounds of muffled crying coming from the floor above and made to demand entry when John interrupted "My name is John Watson, this is my partner, Sherlock Holmes. We're with the police investigating the murder of Arabella Fig next door. May we come in and ask a few questions?"

"Maybe we should stay out here, it is such a nice day." the woman replied.

Sherlock shared a look with John, "We really must insist on entering Mrs.?"

"Dursley, Petunia Dursley." She replied with a sigh as she moved aside letting the two men in, pulling the boy into the sitting room and out of the way of what she knew was about to happen.

Now inside the house they could clearly hear the sound of a young boy begging for someone to stop and a slap and the sound of something heavy repeatedly hitting a wall. Sherlock rushed up the stairs with John hot on his heels and burst through the door into the room the sound was coming from. The sight before him was horrendous. A boy who looked to be no more than two or three, naked, face down on a bed with a walrus-like man on top of him, pants and trousers around his knees, thrusting harshly into the small body beneath him. The man stilled and looked up as the door opened, his face red with anger and the fist not pulling the boys hair clenched and raised as though to strike the man that had barged into his home.

In one swift movement John had the man pinned to the ground and Sherlock had the boy covered with his overcoat. Sherlock took the phone off of its cradle by the bed and swiftly dialed nine-nine-nine asking the operator to send detective Lestrade to Number Four Privet Drive.

Lestrade, who was at the crime scene next door, was there before Sherlock could even hang up the phone. taking one look at the scene before him, he quickly set to work cuffing the man on the floor and reading him his rights.

Sherlock turned to the boy who had moved to cower in the corner of the bed as far as he could get from the men surrounding him. John moved forward slowly and gently handed the boy his clothes from the ground before both of the men turned around giving the boy some semblance of privacy.

"I'm Sherlock, this is John. We won't hurt you. We just want to help. Is that okay?" He said as he turned around after the boy had indicated he was dressed. The clothes hung loosely off the boys shoulders, and he had to hold the pants up to keep them from falling off. He had to hold back a gasp at the sight of dark purple bruises littering what was visible of the boys body. Covering half his face and in the distinct shape of hand prints around his throat and wrists. The gashes along his cheeks and on his arms and the hint of bite marks along the boys too visible collar bones making it all the harder to keep his calm facade.

"'m Freak." said the boy, "But sometimes when she can't hide me, Aunt Petunia calls me Harry."

"Well, Harry, we're going to take you to a hospital to get looked at by a nice doctor, is that okay?" Sherlock asked.