After the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters, John lays low and lives a muggle life, where he meets Sherlock Holmes. It's only a miracle that he is able to keep his magic a secret from him for so long.
*Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or Sherlock, they belong to J.K. Rowling, Steven Moffat, Mark Gatiss, and Sir Arther Conan Doyel
John woke up with a start. It was another nightmare of the war. Sherlock merely thought that the war in Afghanistan was a trite muggle squabble over land. No, it was just another battle in the long lasting wizarding war for power over all life. He had seen many good witches and wizards die, or worse, lose their minds in the war. Being one of the best healers on the European continent, he had been stationed on the front lines in Afghanistan, seeing the carnage first hand. He was sent into the middle of battles removing curses, hexes and jinxes from fallen witches and wizards, and sending out his own returning fire.
The war ended for him when he got hit by a barrage of curses. His entire right leg was shattered, he was petrified, and a particularly nasty one ripped through his shoulder. He thought it was over entirely when a death eater stood over him and his whole body seized up in pain as an imperious curse met with his body.
This was generally when he woke up screaming, though lately it was more panting and gasping than screaming. However to continue what happened next:
A flash of red crashed into his tormentor and there were three Aurors near him. One checked his vitals, after being sure that he was still alive, the wizard grabbed firmly a hold of John and disapperated him to the nearest wizarding hospital.
A few months later, after the curses that could be removed were removed, and his leg had grown back for the most part, he heard news of he-who-must-not-be-named's death. That Harry Potter kid had actually managed to kill the most feared wizard in the world. That night John cried himself to sleep.
It was still a few months before the rest of the curses wore off. Apparently he was more of a threat than he thought. Who would have thought all of those years ago, that a pudgy first year Hufflepuff, would be a force to be reckoned with in a fight of good verses evil.
John served more time, but secluded himself to St. Mungos taking care of battle worn wizards, not wanting to go out with his current injuries. A curse had given a possible permanent limp, while a second gave him a tremor in his left hand, it made his charm work a little faulty.
After a ministry visit, John left St. Mungos and went to London. He decided that since things were still settling and his face was apparently well know amongst death eaters, he would lay low and live as a muggle. Staying with his sister was out of the question, she had managed to go into hiding with a muggle woman that she had fallen in love with. Though she divorced Clara to keep her safe, in case the death eaters came to her door. She wanted him to stay with her, but he didn't want to put her in danger, and quite frankly he didn't approve of the drinking habit she had taken up after the divorce with Clara.
It was soon after that he had come across a friend of his from Hogwarts, a fellow Hufflepuff, Mike Stamford. Being muggle born himself, he returned to his roots and married a muggle woman and took up a muggle job. After a good talking to, Mike hooked him up with Sherlock Holmes, a particularly brilliant muggle, and they got a flat together.
He was surprised about how much Sherlock had actually managed to guess about him. He was half expecting him to shout out wizard as he analyzed John.
That first night with Sherlock, was just like being back in action. He had almost pulled his wand on Mycroft, he thought that he might have been a dark wizard that had a special interest in in Sherlock. When he found out the man was Sherlock's brother, he let out a sigh of relief and his fingers stopped reflexively reaching for his wand.
Because of Sherlock's deductive skills, John didn't dare do any magic around him. Well, at least nothing audible. And he kept it simple, like for fixing up tea while he was cooking and tiding up while sherlock was away. Everything else was done in his room. Though his room was set with a complex spell, so that when opened without magic it looked like a plain, ordinary room. However when opened properly, his room was littered with parchment, spell and potions books, and a potions set that he thought Sherlock would fancy. There were times when he was tempted to show it to Sherlock. He was pretty sure that his muggle flat mate would be amazing at potions making. Its not like you needed magic to mix potions. However if he did let Sherlock at it, he would be breaking several wizarding laws.
He had managed to keep his secret from Sherlock for a year. Granted the only reason he did it was to save the man's life. He had almost done it sooner when Moriarty took him captive, but he had trusted that Sherlock would get them out of the mess.
This situation however was going to be unavoidable. Sherlock was currently sprawled across the ground with a gun pointed at his face. He had run ahead of John and in the time it had taken John to catch up, Sherlock had ended up in that position.
Upon seeing the scene before him, John placed a shield charm over himself, threw the door open yelling "Stupify", and flicking his wand at the man that was looming over Sherlock. As he went ridged and his voice echoed through the warehouse and the attention of everyone was directed towards John. Their guns in tow.
Bullets were fired, but with a few graceful flicks of the wand and a silent counter spell that sent the bullets back at their owners. In fact after the initial stupify, all of his following spells were silent. He watched the mens faces contorted in fear and confusion as their weapons flew from their hands and landed at John's feet with a sense of glee.
Sherlock watched the whole scene with fascination. His eyes barely leaving John's form as he flicked his wand around like an orchestra conductor. Only glancing away momentarily to see what the wand in his hand was doing, The men around him began to drop one by one, stiff as a board, to the floor.
It was only after all of the men were dealt with that John made eye contact with Sherlock. Sherlock noticed the way John's eyes widened as if realizing what he had done, however he quickly regained his composure. He ran over to Sherlock, kneeling by his side to make sure he was alright.
"Are you alright?" John asked.
"Magic." Sherlock muttered. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. It felt foreign on his tongue. Such an unscientific word.
"It looks like they clipped you over the head pretty good." John said touching a wet spot on his head, pulling his hand away, and seeing red slicked on his fingers.
"You were doing magic." Sherlock stated.
"I think you might be concussed." John stated.
Sherlock grabbed John's hands to stop the doctor from touching him. "I'm fine John. I'm fine." Sherlock's fingers ran over the palm of John's wand hand as if trying to find the on switch for the magic. "I know what I saw, though I don't know how."
"I don't think-"
"Why haven't you told me before?" Sherlock asked. That question seemed to throw John off a bit, he began gaping and his eyes seemed to search for an answer. An answer that wasn't the truth. "Because you can't." Sherlock deduced.
John gave a resigned sigh. "Against the law."
"It's not in any law book I've read. Some sort of... sorcerers law then?"
"Wizard, actually." John muttered.
"I see..." Sherlock muttered. "Did you kill them?"
"No. I just placed a stun on them. Though if not treated, the bullet wounds will kill them." John stood up and looked at the men. He was certain his stun will last some time still, but he didn't want to take any risks.
"So, now that you know, would you like to see some more?" John asked with a smug grin.
"Oh god yes." Sherlock muttered, repeating the words John had spoken to him when he invited the doctor into his world.
John helped Sherlock up and whipped out his wand out once again. He summoned the men to a central point in the building, magicked rope from the tip of his wand, and bound each of them.
Sherlock watched all of this in fascination. John never ceased to amaze him.
"Sherlock, phone Lestrade. Let him know we closed the arms ring."
This puzzled Sherlock more than anything. John was taking the lead on a case. John used magic to help him solve a crime. John became infinitely more useful to him. He did as John said and sent Lestrade a text. He also said he wouldn't be there, that his doctor was seeing to an injury he had sustained.
"Let's go John." Sherlock began to walk to the door.
With a flick of his wand, John removed the stun, rushed to Sherlock's side and grabbed his arm to stop him. Sherlock turned to face him and John took him into an embrace. "Do you trust me?" He asked into Sherlock's ear.
"Yes." Sherlock said without hesitation.
"Take a deep breath and close your eyes." He said.
After he heard Sherlock inhale he appearated back to 221B. As soon as they appeared back in their flat Sherlock began coughing and wheezing for air that had been forced from his chest from the apperation.
John held his friend, keeping him steady as he had regained his equilibrium. "Take you time, it happens to everyone their first time."
"First... time? Oh, we've teleported." Sherlock said, just realizing they were in the living room of their flat.
"Actually, its called apperating, but close enough."
Both John and Sherlock's eyes widened as the voice belonged to neither of them. John closed his eyes willing it not to be Mycroft. However when he opened them back up, Mycroft was sitting in his arm chair staring at the two of them. John stared back like a deer in headlights.
"For once I'm actually not here to see you Sherlock. Tonight is all about John Watson."
John reflexively tightened his grip on his wand and his grip on Sherlock's arm. "Are you with the Ministry?" He wouldn't put it past Mycroft to secretly hold a position in the ministry. If he was here to arrest him for using magic in front of a muggle, he was ready to put up a fight.
"Heaven's no. I haven't a magical bone in my body. You'll find Sherlock doesn't as well. I am however a muggle Ministry liaison for the Ministry of Magic.
"And to what do I owe this pleasure?" John ground out.
"Relax John, you're not going to Azkaban. From what I am aware of your past service, I don't think they would find a single wizard willing to lock you away for something like this."
"Then why are you here?"
"To inform you that I am going to have to register Sherlock."
"Register me for what?" Sherlock asked. He hated not knowing what was going on. There were new words that needed defining.
"It's part of a new muggle registration. No John, it's not what you are thinking. What with the war and all of the muggles caught in the cross fire. It's so they will know not to wipe his memory if magic is done in front of him. It would be a pity if they messed up and scrambled Sherlock's brain."
"A muggle is a person not born with magic." John explained, seeing the frustration in sherlock's face. "Is that all Mycroft?"
"I thought you'd be excited to be able to legally use magic in front of my brother. God knows you've had to hold back around him."
"Yes, I suppose that is a relief. Though I can't believe you'd willing to submit your brothers name to a list of muggles during the fall out of a wizarding war to take dominion over you kind."
"If it sets your mind at ease, my name is on the list as well."
"It doesn't." John snapped. "And why haven't you told him before now?"
"I wouldn't have believed him." Sherlock answered. "If I hadn't witnessed it first hand I would have just thought Mycroft was full of bullocks."
"And why didn't you tell me?" John asked accepting Sherlock's answer.
"I didn't want to give away my position in the Ministry."
"You should have. I almost attacked you that first night I met you."
"I know. Thinking back on it I could have been more delicate about the whole matter. But honestly where would I have hidden a wand? My umbrella?"
"I was on the front lines of the war. You'd be surprised by all the ways I've seen wizards hide wands."
"I see. There was another point in that meeting though. I wanted to make sure you couldn't be bought. I didn't care that you had fought for the good guys, if you would have sold out Sherlock, I would have done everything in my power to get you sent to Azkaban."
John's eyes narrowed. "I would like you to know that if you ever threatened to send me there again, I assure you that they'd never find your body."
Sherlock was taken back by the tone in John's voice. Glancing at Mycroft, Sherlock saw that his brother was as shocked as he was.
"You stupid muggle. If you ever came across a dementor, you'd never make that threat to a wizard. Your kind are lucky that you can't see what they look like. You're lucky that you've never had to be trapped in the same room with one for weeks on end while they sucked all of the joy and happiness out of you. That's one of the ways that the death eaters played with wizards on our side. And that's just what they did to the pure bloods."
John felt a pressure in his hand that brought him back and grounded him. He looked down and saw Sherlock's hand in his, his fingers twining around his own giving him a squeeze to try to comfort him. While Sherlock didn't know what John was talking about or what it is that he went through, he did know it was related to the war. It was written all over his face, there was a war. It just wasn't the sort he was used to.
"I think it's time for you to leave now Mycroft." Sherlock said. "Run along and register me or what ever it is you need to do. Just don't be here."
After Mycroft left, Sherlock looked back to John, who was smiling at him. "Thank you."
"He was being a twat."
"Yes. He does have a habit of acting as such." John pursed his lips together before giving Sherlock a huge grin. "I want to show you something."
John, still holding onto Sherlock's hand, lead him up to his room. Before entering, he tapped the door in various places, muttering an incantation, before opening the door.
When Sherlock entered the room, he couldn't believe that it was the same room. John's usually plain and tidy room looked like a fantasy novel had exploded in it. There were books, some sort of a chemistry set that required a cauldron, parchment and quills littered his desk, there where things in jars that rivaled anything Sherlock brought home from the morgue.
"Not everything in here is for use of magical personnel only." John whispered from behind Sherlock, into his ear. "I've always wondered if a muggle could brew a proper potion. It would be quite the experiment don't you think?"
The breath seemed to catch in Sherlock's chest as John said it. "When?"
John chuckled. "Not tonight. I need to pick out a few potions to start you out on, and pick up the appropriate supplies."
"Where does one pick up supplies to make potions." Sherlock mused.
"I'll show you tomorrow."
Sherlock's eyes flickered around the room and John knew that Sherlock was eager to learn more. He was quick to inform his muggle friend that all of his books were open to him, though he'd get little use out of anything with spells and incantations.
It was at this time that John was glad that he kept all of his old school books. He had set in front of him the books for the first four years worth of potions classes, eager to find something to start Sherlock on. As he decided on potions, he wrote down what ingredients he was going to need to make the potions.
Lounging on John's bed, was Sherlock, who was nose deep in one of his herbology books. He would make comments and exclamations about some of the plants. He would get particularly excitable when he read of new poisons and remedy's for poisons that were made from magical plants. He was even more excited when he realized that John had a few of the plants used to make the remedy's were growing in pots in John's room.
John had texted his sister Harry about borrowing her owl, Morgana, for a bit. He also sent her a message telling her that she should try and patch things up with Clara now that the war is over. It was about a hour later when the owl arrived, pecking at John's window.
"John, there's an owl at your window." Sherlock announced.
"That was fast. Could you let it in?" John said as he continued quilling a note. Sherlock hesitantly did as John asked and the owl flew in and perched on the side of John's desk. John pet the owl and gave it a bit of one of his biscuits. Once he was finished with the letters that he had written up, he gave the owl the other half of the biscuit and sent it off with the letters.
"Brilliant." Sherlock commented. "An owl postal service."
"She's Harry's. I asked her to loan it to me for a while. I needed to send my order ahead of time. I'm going to need a lot of supplies."
This perked Sherlock's attention. "Oh. You've got a lesson plan for me professor?" he teased.
"Yes, ah... er, please don't call me professor." John mumbled as his cheeks tinged pink.
Sherlock laughed and John followed suit. He sat by Sherlock on the bed, clearing off a spot so he could eventually lay down. "You know, I think I'm brilliant."
Sherlock raised his brow at this comment. "How so?"
"I think I've finally found a way to keep you from being bored in between cases." John said laying down and pulling his blanket around him.
John eventually fell asleep with Sherlock sitting at the foot of his bed, reading.
Sometime in the middle of the night, Sherlock also fell asleep curled next to John, to lazy to get up and shuffle himself to his own room.