Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Sherlock, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.

Hello! Here's chapter one. Hope that you enjoy it.

Please read and review!

…

Chapter One

Apparition had been a mistake. Hermione leaned against the building, her arm like a bar holding her up with her head dropped low. Bile surged and she found herself vomiting against the building. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to pull herself together. So you have a concussion, she told herself, wiping her mouth off with a handkerchief. She took note of the blood on the cloth and wondered not for the first time if she would have been better off disapperitating over to St. Mungo's. Too late for that, she reasoned with the logic of the truly concussed. What now?

She couldn't call Harry, as he and Ginny were out of town. And Severus had a date that night. The last thing he wanted or needed was work getting into the way of what little love life he had. And what of John? No, there'd be no logical explanation. And let's face it, she reasoned with herself, if popping over to St. Mungo's wasn't an option neither was doing the same over to Scotland. That did it, she thought, that only left one option. She had to find Sherlock.

Now the question was how the hell was she going to do that? Taking out her wand, she placed it on the palm of her hand, as she chanted a spell.

"Point me," she breathed. The wand spun on her palm and stopped.

Taking a deep breath, she began stumbling her way through the streets of London in search of Sherlock Holmes.

…

She slid her wand back into its sheath within her jacket lining, stumbling into the building only to be stopped by a tall, reed thin man dressed up in several hoodies with the brightest blue eyes she had ever seen.

"Can't go in," he told her. "Don't even bother, miss."

She absently spat out some of the foul flavor out of her mouth before saying, "I'm here for Sherlock Holmes. Don't lie to me, as I know he's here. The way I figure it one of three things will be happening within the next five minutes. One, I will more than likely vomit on you. This, as you might have surmised is due to the fact that I have a concussion. But honestly, given where you work that isn't going to be much of a deterrent. Two, I will more than likely dislocate your knee and step over your prone form."

"And three?" he asked, now genuinely curious.

"Fuck, man! I have a concussion. I was doing well to come up with two!" she snapped, making him smile. "Just let me get to him." He stopped her from walking in with a hand to her chest. Taking a deep breath, she screamed, "Sherlock Holmes, get your bloody arse over here now!"

Sherlock stumbled over and looked at her. "Hermione, what are you doing here?"

"I am concussed," she told him, going over to him. "I need a doctor. I need pain medication. But more importantly, I need mouthwash." She spat out the bile from her mouth once again. "What are you doing here? What is this place?"

"Nowhere of import," he told her, walking her over with him to where he had been lying down. "Can going to see John wait?"

"I suppose, but do you have mouthwash?"

"No, sorry, I don't." He sat her, sitting down next to her. "Lie down with me."

"I will," she told him, as she began searching her coat. "I could have sworn I had some…" She pulled out a travel sized mouthwash. "See! I knew it was there." She rinsed out her mouth, spitting it out on the floor. Pocketing the tiny bottle, she curled up next to Sherlock who pulled her into his arms.

"Just what don't you carry in that jacket of yours?" Sherlock asked her.

"Condoms and beer." This gained a snort of laughter from him.

He nuzzled her neck. "You shouldn't sleep, not with a concussion."

"Okay," she sighed, leaning her head back and baring more of her neck to his wandering mouth.

Everything started getting fuzzy about the time he reached for her pants to pull them off. Everything went black just after she kicked her own knickers off.

…

Someone was slapping her face. Hermione blinked, struggling to regain consciousness.

"That's it," she heard Sherlock say. "Wake up and look into my eyes." She did. "Damn, you're in worse shape than I thought."

Hermione looked down at her now bare body and muttered, "Where is my clothing?"

"I do believe that they are currently in that pile there," he said, pointing over to a dirty pile of what looked to be rags.

"Did we…" she stopped to swallow back vomit threatening to erupt from her gut. "Did we have sex?"

"We tried, but failed," he muttered, not sounding happy at all. "Here put this on." He helped her sit up and put her jacket on along with his own, which would cover more of her.

They curled back up together, his arms like tight bands around her.

"Just rest and soon enough I'll get you to hospital," he told her.

"Hmm," she hummed, as her eyes slid shut once again. "When?"

"When I can walk," he assured her. "Which will be within the next three hours. I'll keep waking you, but rest for now."

"Okay," she sighed and drifted back into the blackness.

…

Someone was yelling. Hermione woke slowly, to find that her back was now to the wall that Sherlock had been facing. He was now sitting on the mattress with John Watson growling and snarling at him like a pit bull.

"Hermione?" She looked over to see him watching her with shock. "What are you doing here? And are you naked?"

She looked down at herself before stating, "Aren't we all just naked under our clothing?"

This only gained her a growl of temper and had him yanking Sherlock and herself to her feet. Sherlock was making excuses even as Hermione just hoped not to vomit again with how fast they were moving. All the jumping about wasn't helping in the least either. Thank Merlin Sherlock stopped long enough to catch her or else she would have ended up on her face, she was sure.

"Take care with her, John!" Sherlock snapped, as soon as the doctor got a hold of her once again. "She has a concussion!"

"I'll see to her once were over to St. Barts," he told him, pushing him into the back of Mary's car. He pushed Hermione with care into the car, taking note for the first time that her mouth was swollen. "What happened to you, Hermione?"

"Saw someone I haven't seen in forever," she told him. "We used to be friends way back when I was in university. His Da taught mathematics." She ended up scooting in and sitting on Sherlock's lap. His arms came around her, pressing his face into her wild mane of curls. "He doesn't like me." She snorted at this. "That's okay though, 'cuz he is a rat bastard not worth knowing." Sherlock lifted his face and tilted her head so that he could look her over. "He hit me." She pointed to her mouth. "See?"

"I see," he murmured. "Did he hit your head from behind?"

"Not him, but one of his minions," she muttered with a nod. But Hermione ended up having to squeeze her eyes shut with the motion of the car when John and another man got into it. This sent the car rocking in both directions and had her feeling something akin to seasickness. "I dislocated his shoulder and elbow." She swallowed back bile, adding, "Nothing less than he deserved."

"Is Diarmuid okay?" Sherlock asked.

"I was only going out to get some milk," she muttered. "Left him at home." Snuggling into him all the more, she breathed, "For the best. The rat bastard would have killed him." And again the blackness of unconsciousness claimed her.

TBC…

…

And that's chapter one away! Thank you for taking the time to read my story. Please if you can, take the time to review. I do need the feedback. It would help out loads if I had some. I hope that you're all doing well and continue to have an awesome day.