Author's Note: Happy Spring everyone! I promised a sequel and here it is! It's only one chapter so far, but I'm excited to get this started. This will be updated sporadically and I'm not certain exactly how long the chapters will be. As always, leave some feedback when you're finished reading! Thank you GaeilgeRua for beta reading this so it could go out this evening! The rating is for later chapters. Enjoy loves! xxDustNight

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling, BBC, or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

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Nights in 221B
Rated: M
Pairing: Hermione/Sherlock, Sherlock/John (implied)
Summary: When Hermione leaves the wizarding world behind, choosing to aid Sherlock in his desperate search for Moriarty, she learns much more about the consulting detective than she ever thought possible.

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Chapter One

Sitting by the window and watching as cars drove by in the darkness, Hermione thought back on her first few weeks spent in 221B Baker Street. She couldn't help the smile that brushed her lips as she reminisced about her trip from Diagon Alley to this cluttered little flat. Sherlock must have known how much she was second guessing herself that night as he led her by hand through the nearly deserted streets of London. Her cheeks heated as she recalled him occasionally pulling her into dark alleys, pressing his body into hers as he treated her to fevered kisses that left her near breathless.

Any trepidations she may have felt about leaving the Wizarding world behind were lost by the time they reached the black door with the crooked little knocker. She could barely keep her hands to herself by the time he'd opened the door and led her up the narrow staircase into the flat. She hadn't known it was possible to kiss away sadness, but Sherlock was always opening her up to new experiences, wasn't he?

That first night in 221B they'd spent entirely in his room, intertwined within one another so thoroughly they both forgot the entire reason she was there to begin with. She fell asleep sometime just before sunrise, listening to Sherlock send text after text on his mobile. When she'd finally woken just before noon, she found herself alone in the bed. An uneasiness had settled around her, being in a new and unfamiliar place as she was, but she redressed and went in search of her lover nevertheless.

She'd found him in the main room, standing on a long, leather sofa and staring intently at the wall behind it. The wall, battered with bullet holes and yellow spray-paint, was covered in newspaper clippings, string, and Polaroid pictures of Moriarty's victims. It unnerved her, the way he was staring at the wall without apparently even noticing her presence. He'd warned her of his quirks, but now she was seeing them firsthand. He was truly in his Mind Palace, she realized, as he began waving his hands about and mumbling under his breath about locations and Muggles.

Not wanting to disturb him, she'd busied herself with research of her own. At some point that afternoon, she'd met the infamous Mrs. Hudson, who brought tea and sandwiches. She'd seemed rather alarmed to find Hermione there, but pleased nonetheless. By the time the sun was gone and the moon was high in the sky, Hermione felt more comfortable in the little flat, and ready to take on whatever came next. Mrs. Hudson had promised to take her shopping for things she may need, seeing as she'd left everything behind in Diagon Alley.

That night, after hours of being ensconced in his Mind Palace, Sherlock came back to reality. He'd plopped himself down on the leather sofa, covering his face with one hand while reaching out to her with the other. She uncurled herself from where she was reading in front of the fire and walked over to him to intertwine her fingers with his own. Tugging gently, Sherlock indicated that he wanted her to lie down next to him, so she did, curling into his embrace. It was unbelievably calming.

And that's how they spent their days and their nights. Sherlock and Hermione would both research and enjoy each other's company. She hadn't heard from Harry, Draco, or anyone else from her world, and it was a relief. Her days were filled with tea and gossiping with Mrs. Hudson, and her nights were filled entirely with Sherlock. Together they would research, discuss theories, and get to know each other better.

Bringing herself back to the present, Hermione sighed and turned away from the window only to find the room occupied. Before she could react, however, the man spoke to her. "You're certainly not who I expected to find here."

"Who are you?" Hermione gasped, moving away from the window with her wand already defensively in hand. She narrowed her eyes in suspicion, not liking that this man managed to sneak up on her unnoticed. "How did you get in here?"

Sighing with exasperation, the man tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket before glancing around. When he again glanced at her, he shrugged. "I guess Sherlock didn't tell you about me. Then again, why would he?"

Heart pounding, Hermione waited for an answer, her wand tucked just out of sight from the Muggle. She was fairly certain he held no true threat, but with Moriarty on the loose, one couldn't be too careful. Sherlock was currently asleep, having stayed up most of the night and day fiddling away on his computer, so it was just her at the moment. Taking a tentative step forward, she repeated her question. "Who are you?"

"Dr. John Watson, and you must be Hermione Granger."

Mouth popping open in surprise, Hermione found herself unable to respond. How did John know her name? Where did he come from-or rather-why was he here? And why was he staring at her with so much hatred on his face? She knew none of these answers, but she intended to find out.

"Ah," came Sherlock's deep voice as he strode in from the kitchen, "I see you received my text messages." He was dressed in his usual suit, just finishing buttoning the front of the white shirt. "I believe it's time we put aside our differences in order to track down Moriarty, wouldn't you agree?"

In response, John punched Sherlock squarely in the nose before turning and storming from the room. Hermione simply stood there in horror as the blood ran from Sherlock's broken nose, staining his newly pressed shirt. Currently, she had absolutely no idea what was what going on. Something had transpired between Sherlock and John, something she was not yet privy to. There were many questions she needed answers for, but one thing was certain, nights in 221B had only just begun.