Chapter Text
Reckless, brave, loyal. That sort of summed it up, according to many. Others would agree only with the first adjective and what he was about to do would definitely confirm their beliefs. Still, it was the only way he could think of to turn the tables and after twelve years surrounded by Dementors, two on the run and a whole summer imprisoned in a house he hated, he was more than ready to leap at the chance to do it. He closed the book he was pretending to read with a final thud and stood up. Remus opened his eyes a bit and watched him go from his position on the coach. He frowned and stared at the empty chair Sirius had been sitting on and then, with a small sigh, he returned to his sleep. After all, there was nothing he could possibly do after such a terrible full moon.
In the meantime, Sirius had managed to retrieve all the muggle newspapers he had piled up in his father’s study. Heavily protected by spells, of course: he couldn’t let anything ruin his only plan. After rummaging for a few minutes, he finally found the one he was interested in. On the front page stood a blurred image of a man wearing a weird hat, probably a deerstalker, and the title read Sherlock Holmes Strikes Again. After the short summary of a crime well solved, the journalist had decided to write down everything they had managed to find out about the private life of the so-called Consulting Detective. And there stood also the address Sirius was looking for. 221B Baker Street, first floor. He seemed lost in thought for a moment but then his expression cleared and he quickly turned into a black dog.
Looking quite pleased with himself, he ran purposefully out. He was so single-minded and overwhelmed by the strength of his renewed hope that he didn’t even notice the front door slamming loudly behind him and the string of curses uttered by his mother’s portrait. But, most importantly, he didn’t feel the accusing eyes of his house-elf Kreacher on him. If he had, he would surely have seen the determined look and the wish to make its mistress proud. And he would have realized that leaving muggle newspapers out in a dark and gloomy house was definitely not a good idea. Right now, though, he was far more interested in the sun warming him up and in the happy faces he saw whenever he looked around. Not to mention the wonderful smells of London surrounding him and the amazing feeling of freedom.
After the initial happiness, though, he decided to slow down. What he was doing was already reckless enough and there was therefore no need to make it even worse by attracting unwanted attention. After all, there was a reason why he had to stay hidden and even if he didn’t like it he still had to recognize that it was safer to be protected by the magical wards of his much-hated house. So, while he continued to relish the fresh air and the possibility to stretch his legs… well, paws, he started to pay more attention to his surroundings, looking for the address with a care and resolution that would have surely made the passer-byes suspicious if they had looked at him twice. But that, thankfully, was what people did: they looked around without really seeing anything, not caring enough to actually pay attention.
Suddenly, a scream filled the air and he shook himself, trying to dispel the need to look around frantically to find out what was going on in favour of keep pretending to be a normal dog. Still, he paid even more attention than before, grateful for the enhanced hearing his Animagus form gave him, and managed to catch a few irritated words from the voice that had screamed. He was still struggling to make sense of words such as bathtub, chicken, lung and clean when a door slammed shut. He jumped, noticing that it was the one directly on his right, and saw a man with blondish short hair stamping out. But, most importantly, he caught a glimpse of the number on the door: 221B.
His plan was a simple one: he had to get into the house, manage to get the attention of the detective and transform in front of his eyes. Of course, there were a lot of risks involved, starting from the fact that he was still wanted and even Muggles were aware of it, so there was no way it could have escaped the detective’s notice, and ending with him deliberately breaking the Statute of Secrecy. But it was worth it, as he repeated himself multiple times before going closer to the house and starting to scratch the door. It was a woman who opened the door, looking at him with a curious but nice expression but he didn’t give her time to sort out her thoughts and start thinking where he could have come from. He just run upstairs as fast as he could and got through the thankfully open door of what seemed to be a kitchen but was full of phials and laboratory equipment that make him stagger for a second.
He had been having problems with memories since he escaped Azkaban: sometimes it was difficult to remember details of his life before, other times he was overwhelmed by them and now, apparently, it was not going to be different. All his memories of Potions came back to him, with those of the pranks he had come up with together with James, Remus and the traitor and a hundred emotions swirled in his head, making him strangely light-headed. And then, a man entered the kitchen. He was tall and had dark hair too, even if his were shorter and slightly more curled, and was frowning at him.
The man had just opened his mouth, probably to shout for the woman who opened the door, when Sirius transformed. He watched the eyes of the man widen as he took him in and then blink multiple times to hide his emotions. Afraid he would waste his only chance to explain, he started talking at once. Short and clear sentences, that was what he planned. This Sherlock Holmes was said to be the most logical person on Earth, so telling him facts was probably the only way to catch his attention.
“My name is Sirius Black. I’m a wizard and I can do magic. The proof is in front of your eyes: I was a dog, and now I am a man. I was wrongfully accused and imprisoned for the murder of my best friends and a dozen others twelve years ago. I escaped two years ago and I’ve been on the run ever since. I didn’t do it and I know who did, but he’s pretending to be dead so I can’t prove it. I’ve read you’re one of the best at what you do and I need your help. Will you take my case?”
The other man was still staring at him, mouth slightly open and eyes blinking every few seconds. The silence went on for ages, and Sirius began to think that maybe saying everything so bluntly hadn’t been his best idea but, again, he was known for his recklessness. Then, when he was very close to decide whether he should just give up or shake the detective to make him realize the importance of this, he spoke.
“The best”
It was Sirius’s turn to stare at him uncomprehending.
“What?”
“I’m the best at what I do, not one of the best. Do sit down, this seems interesting.”