"Sherlock Holmes? You need to come with us." When no less than ten individuals, all dressed in ridiculously colored and fashioned suits -except for the man who had spoken, he wore a black, pinstriped suit-, approached the table at the pub, John was unnerved. He was even more so when he heard what they wanted. Sherlock had looked up lazily, assessing them before looking to the others he was sitting with to gauge their reactions. It was the first time John had convinced Sherlock to come to the pub with the yarders (and Sherlock still hadn't touched the drink John convinced him to buy, the prat). Of course John should have expected something to go wrong. These were probably Mycroft's people. Yes, most definitely.

"How many of you are there?" Sherlock drawled, his voice perpetually bored, it seemed. "Hmm, Kingsley? Ten here, plus forty outside, all situated in convenient positions, yes? You've been planning this. Tell me, how is the husband? Have you noticed his affair with the Astrology Professor, yet?"

The man Sherlock referred to as Kingsley didn't even bat an eye. He shook his head, the earring he was wearing jiggling with his movements."You haven't changed at all, have you? Except with that public display you had with Jim, you're still you. I don't know whether to be thankful or disappointed. Now, come on, Holmes. We haven't got all night."

Sherlock looked as though he was lost in thought before saying, "And what exactly are my charges again?"

"Wait a minute," Lestrade interrupted, much to John's thankfulness. "Are you telling me that you lot are here to arrest Sherlock Holmes?" Greg gave out a laugh, but behind him Sergeant Donovan looked wary, but pleased. "I'm pretty sure if Sherlock did anything to get arrested for, that would fall under my division-"

"Trust me," the tall man named Kingsley said, leaning in. "This is not your division, Detective Inspector."

A young woman with soft, brunette hair was looking at Sherlock uneasily before pulling out something that looked like parchment. "Sherlock Holmes. You're under arrest for the murders of Edgar Bones, Caradoc Dearborn, Marlene McKinnon, Andrew McKinnon, and their children, Gwydion and Cerridwyn McKinnon, in addition to countless unforgivable crimes and..." The woman took a deep breath and shook, "the orchestration of the capture and participation in the torture of Alice and Frank Longbottom to the point of insanity."

Donovan looked like it was Christmas, whispering, "I knew it."

"Come along, Holmes."

"You know very well I never committed those crimes," he looked to the woman who had spoken the list of crimes. "Andromeda, I was your and Alice's partner, as you well remember. Could I have possibly had time to do all that?"

The woman named Andromeda looked positively nauseous, and she looked away from him, eyes blinking. There was something there between them, obviously, at least on the woman's part. She shook her head and said, "I don't know, Sherlock. I'm just doing my job. You hiding for twelve years didn't help your case at all."

Sherlock took calculating glances before giving a curt nod. "Very well. I shall come along quietly. Come on, John."

John looked taken back, as though in shock, and narrowed his eyes, but stood up. "Sherlock, what the bloody hell is going on?"

"I'll explain later."

"You'll explain now!"

Another man, (did he have a swirling eyeball!?) came forward and shook his head. "Holmes, he can't come-"

"This is Doctor John Watson," Sherlock interrupted. "My flat mate, colleague, friend, partner and companion. I do believe you'll find his presence acceptable."

"Spouses are an exception to the Statue of Secrecy, Mad-Eye," the brunette woman spoke again, and John could not find the words to tell them he was not Sherlock's husband. "That and the fact that- Dr. Watson, was it?-, that Dr. Watson has no idea what's going on says a lot. Why would Sherlock live as a muggle if he hates them so much?"

"Andromeda, take Dr. Watson aside and explain to him what's going on. You two can meet with us back at the Ministry. We're taking Holmes to Azkaban to await trial."

At this, Sherlock froze and he stared at the group. "Azkaban? Surely you have holding cells in the-"

"Of course we do," snapped the man with the swirling eye, "But its not where you'll be held. You're a liability, Holmes. You're too clever. No, it's off to the dementors for you and Healer Hooper until your trials."

"Unless," another woman piped up, "You'd like to release her from the Imperius curse you most likely have her under."

"Molly Hooper is not under the Imperius curse," hissed Sherlock, actual fear in his eyes. "She has helped me avoid detection under her own free will because she sees what the rest of the Wizarding population is too dense to see. I am not a Death Eater and I never was. Why don't you people just think!?"

"That's enough, Holmes," the man name Kingsley said. "Dromeda, we'll meet you at the Ministry." After gripping Sherlock's arm tightly, the group of people merely vanished, leaving Andromeda and a wobbly John Watson. She gave John a sympathizing look before saying, "You're probably very confused, Dr. Watson."

John licked his lips and took a deep breath before nodding. "Um... yeah... just a bit..."

"Well, let's get you filled in on your husband's world, shall we?"