A.N.: This short story is the prequel to a longer, multi-chaptered fic.
Once again, from a prompt from the Johnlock Gift Exchange in Tumblr. This prompt was : "Kissing in Secret at Christmas" by sir-doctor-dame-rose.
Warnings: I decided to keep their age difference (8 years), so even though Sherlock is a teen, John is not. Thus, it is Underage.
Not beta-ed!
crack
A sharp sound broke the silence that enveloped the village.
Soft snow crunched under hard dragon hide boots as a pair of feet rounded the corner where the Apparition Point was and walked towards the village's main street.
It was Christmas Eve, mid-afternoon. Night was only now starting to take over the bleak daylight but still, there was no soul on the streets. And no sound other than the rustle of pale green robes and the soft crunching of snow beneath his boots.
Despite the villagers best efforts there were still some visible scars from the war. And there always would be.
The new windows didn't quite match the buildings they were inserted to. Second storeys were painted in the same colours as the floor beneath, but the paint was still too new, not worn out enough by the elements and time itself. Some houses were painfully empty. The cemetery was bigger.
The Battle of Hogwarts had happened almost 8 months ago but people were still wary. There were still rogue Death Eaters at large. There were still people missing. It was all still too fresh.
As it was, people seemed to go in a hurry from the safety their houses provided to their destination. And so, even in Diagon Alley, you'd barely see people wandering about. No, there was no doubt about it.
Hogsmeade would never be the same. Many other places in the Wizarding World would never be the same.
Almost everyone in the Wizarding World would never be the same.
His fist clenched in anger. He had been practically useless. There had been so much he could have done, he could have helped so much more, he-
Deep breaths.
Inhale.
Exhale.
Inhale.
Exhale.
He shook his head, as if trying to shake those thoughts that continued to plague him even after all this months, and was momentarily surprised as he watched, by the corner of his eyes that a bit of snow had fallen from his hair.
He hadn't even noticed it had started snowing again.
He started walking faster. He could see the Inn now. His robes weren't made to be worn in the cold and harsh Scottish winter and the thought of the warmth that awaited him only made him want to go faster.
Just as the snow started falling harder he reached the door. With a smile, remembering his school days from years ago, he fondly looked up at the sign, pushed the heavy wooden door, and entered The Three Broomsticks.
The sudden temperature difference startled him, as well as the amount of noise.
Bloody hell, the place was packed.
He shook as much snow from his head and shoulders and walked, still a bit stiffly from the cold, to the counter.
He managed to squeeze himself between a couple of patrons and since there wasn't no one serving in the counter, he turned on the spot and looked around.
If one didn't know what had transpired, you could think there was nothing wrong. Christmas decorations were everywhere, a huge Christmas tree stood by one of the corners near a window, and in the stairs that led to upstairs to the room, were a group of teenagers singing carols.
It seemed everyone had been doing some late shopping. Almost every table had at least a bag full of wrapped packages and some were in quite a hurry, waiting impatiently in the line to the fireplace so they could Floo, probably, home.
He spotted some waiters walking between tables, taking orders with their Quick-Quote Quills.
Just as he was about to move and look for any available seat he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and met the sparkling green eyes of Madam Rosmerta.
"John Watson, I'll be damned! – she exclaimed – About time you come to visit, don't you think?"
He was smiling at the woman behind the counter before he could help himself, and while pointing to his pale green robes he said: "I'm afraid I've been quite busy."
Her eyes widened, and not a second later, a wide smile bloomed.
"Healer! Ah, I knew it! Healer Watson, doesn't that have a nice ring to it?" – she playfully asked with a wink.
"I guess it does." – he agreed with a wink of his own.- "But I'm afraid that I've just got to the bottom of the ladder." Not for long though.
"You have to start somewhere, don't you? Here, on the house, what will it be?"
"Oh no, please, Madam –"
"Oh hush with the Madam, you're not on Hogwarts anymore, no need to call me that. Rosmerta is enough. Now, what will it be?"
"Alright, - he sighed. He guessed he kind of owed that to her. She always kept saying he'd end up a Healer, even when he wasn't so sure himself. – "Just a Butterbeer then. I'll have to Apparate and plus, there's no seat in any table and I don't fancy eating in the counter."
"Butterbeer, uh? A bit of nostalgia there?"- she asked as she moved to get his order. She could always read right through him, he had to give her that.
"Oh alright, yes, a bit."
Laughing she handed him his drink and pointed to the Christmas tree.
"Go over there, there's a table for two behind the tree. I don't think anyone's there. I'll send something for you in a bit."
Shaking his head he thanked her once again, picked his Butterbeer and started to move.
As he came closer to the tree he saw an empty chair and thought that after all, he'd have someplace to sit. But as he rounded the tree he stopped in his tracks.
There was someone else there already.