I resisted. And then I succumbed. And it worked out rather well. In a fairly PG way, you'll be happy to know.
Doyle strutted up The Strand, past the Royal Courts of Justice. He meant to amble into Aldwych, but a skinny looking rent boy lounging outside Australia House caught his eye. Doyle's own experience over countless fan fiction life cycles had influenced him greatly, so he was always willing to give a lad a chance.
"'S pretty bad for business around here," he offered. "I'd try Soho if I were you."
The lad scowled at him. "I can't get in," he said.
"Can't get in?" Doyle was nonplussed. "Not usually a problem from your side of things, is it?"
"I can't get in there!" The boy gestured at the tall building.
"Oh," said Doyle. "I think they stopped taking your sort a couple of centuries ago."
"No, you idiot, I mean I can't get into the bank!"
Doyle was almost ready to call for the white coats. But he decided to humour the lad.
"What's your name?"
"Well, c'mon then, Harry."
He took him by the sleeve and dragged him through the entrance. At least he tried to. As he walked into the building he felt a hard jerk on his arm, almost hard enough to yank his shoulder out of its socket. He looked back. Harry was immobilised, pressed up against some sort of unseen barrier. Doyle tried to pull him through, to no avail. He walked outside and tried pushing Harry from behind…
"Ow! Stop it, you can't do it that way!"
… and came back in.
Next, he went over to the reception desk where a small, gnarly brown man, the ugliest he had ever seen, sat watching with amusement.
"He can't come in here," the man-thing said. "He's been cursed."
Doyle got mad. He pulled out his CI5 ID and waved it at the man. All he got was a haughty sniff in response.
"Oi!" he heard from somewhere near the ground. He looked down and saw a small figure, with very large ears and enormous eyes, dressed in what looked like an old money sack. The creature's face looked very familiar.
"Bodie?" he breathed.
"Actually, sir, I'm Boddy. Brother of Dobby. But very close. Thank you, sir."
"I see." Well no, he didn't.
"You have to give him a kiss. To release him from the spell."
Doyle looked at Boddy. And then back at Harry. He asked Harry, "How old are you?"
"In a pig's eye," he thought. "This has to be a badger job."
Still, there were other stories…
Screwing his courage to the sticking place, he leaned forward and plonked one on the sullen lips.
There was a loud *plop* and young Harry stumbled forward into the bank.
"Ah, Master Potter," the brown man exclaimed. "How may we help you today, sir?"
Doyle started to steal away, but was brought up short when he found he was unable to leave.
"WTF?" he said, loudly. Behind him, Boddy coughed discretely. Doyle turned around to face the munchkin.
"Unfortunately the spell does not fade immediately. You are stuck here for the next three days."
"Three days?" Doyle yowled. "Cowley will kill me. Isn't there anything you can do?"
Boddy's very blue eyes were sparkling, his little face brightening with glee.
"Yes there is," he said. "Give us a kiss, angelfish."