Hello again! Here's chapter 2! Can you tell that I'm obsessed with the Sherlock-being-a-magical-daddy thing? Yes? Good.

Chapter 2

Sherlock felt like he was taking a massive step back in the "getting your child to sleep" business. Penny, who was now well on her way to growing a full mouth of teeth, was miserable with pain and slept for very few hours during the night. To Sherlock, this wasn't so torturous, as he slept very little as it was and his job allowed him to do much of his work from the flat, but he felt terrible for John, who had been working fourteen hour shifts. He looked like a corpse when he would get home at night, and Sherlock did his best to at least get some food in him before he collapsed from exhaustion each night.

Today, however, under the florescent lighting of his little office at the ministry, Sherlock felt like he was about to pass out. He had to file the reports for the case he had solved the week before, and the tedious job of filling out such mundane details was boring to say the least. He glanced at Penny, who was gurgling and cooing on the blanket on the floor, clutching tightly to the little stuffed doll Sherlock had found in her crib when he discovered her. He sighed at her and rubbed his gray eyes, leaning back in his chair.

"Sleeping on the job, Sherly?" Mycroft strode into the office without an invitation, umbrella at his side. His brother groaned, opening one eye to glare at him.

"If it isn't the queen himself…" he muttered. Mycroft ignored him, going to Penny.

"Hello little princess!" he cooed, and Sherlock rolled his eyes again as his brother lifted her high above his head. She shrieked with laughter, the high pitched sounds reverberating in Sherlock's tired brain, making him wince. "Oh how is my favorite niece in the world? Can you say Mycroft? Can you say uncle Mycroft?"

"For heaven's sake, Mycroft, she's a child not a dog. You don't need to use that tone." Sherlock rubbed his temples and turned his desk chair to face him. "What do you want?"

"It's Penny's birthday next week." He said, balancing her on his hip as she clutched onto his suit jacket, gurgling.

"I am aware, thank you." Sherlock snapped, annoyed.

"Mummy and Father want to host a dinner party." Mycroft said, not meeting his brother's eyes.

"No. Absolutely not. Not going to happen. No." Sherlock glared at Mycroft for even suggesting it. Their stuffy parents didn't even celebrate Christmas, and now they want to host a birthday dinner?

"Oh come now, Sherlock. Mum never thought you would ever give her a grandchild. They want to be a part of her life too." He frowned at the childlike smugness on his brother's face. "Think about it, won't you?"

"I said no, Mycroft."

"Fine. I'll ask John."

Sherlock glared at him. He knew as soon as John found out about this he would take Mycroft's side. Damn him for being so family oriented. He frowned at Penny, all smiles and dimples in her uncles arms. He hated being bullied into anything. "Yes, alright fine. But just the family, none of father's annoying work friends." Mycroft smirked and placed a loud kiss on Penny's chubby cheek before setting her down.

"Go home, Sherlock, you look like you could pass out." He frowned at his brother and left the office.

Sherlock sighed and looked to Penny, who yawned, her full little mouth forming a perfect O. "I couldn't agree more." He muttered, slamming the file on his desk shut and scooping up his daughter, striding out of the building and apparating back to Baker Street with a crack.

John came home before sunset for the first time in weeks. He was tired, as usual, but excited for the weekend and the chance to spend some time with his family. When he turned the handle on the door to their flat, the first thing that hit him was the silence. His house was never quiet during the day. Panic hit him like a train as he ran up into the kitchen, finding it empty. Same as the living room. He threw open the door to his bedroom and sighed, hand over his frantically racing heart. Sherlock and Penny were sprawled across the bed, their messy curls falling into their sleeping faces. It was remarkable, really, how similar she managed to look to Sherlock sometimes. She spent so much time with him that her gestures were becoming like his, all extended fingers and swooping movements. He was sure that when she learned to walk she would walk like him too. John smiled softly and left them, shutting the door quietly behind him.

Hudson made her appearance then, mewing pathetically. The old cat hardly got any attention since they adopted Penny, and when she did it was usually by the baby girl, who would pull on her tail or collapse on top of her. John chuckled and went into the kitchen to feed her.

He had just sat down in his armchair with a cup of tea when the silver peacock appeared in the room. John groaned, leaning his head back tiredly. "What now, Mycroft?"

"You and Sherlock need to get to St. Mungo's. Quickly." Mycroft's voice resonated throughout the room, sounding stressed and more than a little agitated.

"I literally just got home from there. Is it important?" he rubbed his eyes.

"Alice and Frank have been attacked."

John nearly dropped his cup, running to the room to get Sherlock.

They ran up the steps to the wizard hospital, John leading the way up into the infirmary. Sherlock, who had Penny strapped to his back and managed to not look like a complete fool wearing the harness, had his thin lips pressed into a hard line. John stopped suddenly, going into his office and grabbing the white doctor's robe and his eyeglasses before continuing at a near run to the fourth floor, Sherlock trailing on his heels. There was a nurse waiting outside the door, who silently handed him a clipboard. John flipped through it quickly and slammed it into Sherlock's hands, throwing open the door. The nurse held an arm in front of Sherlock, "No visitors, sir. They're in shock."

"They're with me." John scowled, taking Sherlock's hand and pulling him into the darkened room. Alice and Frank Longbottom lay on two separate beds, each with thin bracelets on their wrists and ankles that Sherlock recognized as vises, holding them to the bed so they can't thrash about and hurt themselves. "Stay here." He mouthed to Sherlock, and held a finger to his lips when Penny looked at him. She replied with a shushing sound, and Sherlock had to appreciate her intelligence despite the situation.

John approached Alice's bed very slowly, and her empty eyes turned to focus on him, no recognition in her face. "Hello, Alice…" he said gently, "You alright?" she continued to stare blankly at him, but when he reached out a hand to check her temperature she yelled out, terror on every nerve of her face. Sherlock, alarmed, looked at the clipboard in his hands.

Name: LONGBOTTOM, ALICE

Age: 26

Reason for visit: SHOCK/SEVERE MENTAL DAMAGE

Spell(s) inflicted: CRUCIATUS

Condition: CRITICAL

The cruciatus curse. They had been tortured into insanity. Sherlock looked up at his husband, who was now at Frank's side. Unlike his wife, he didn't respond to anything, neither touch nor sounds. John felt his wrist for his heart rate, his face for his temperature, and all the while the brown eyes stayed glued to the ceiling. John sighed and Sherlock could see the pain, the fear; they had only seen them a few months ago, crying over the death of the Potters. Holding their little boy, Neville. So many children were left without parents. Sherlock went to John and wrapped his long fingers over his wrist, leading him gently from the room. Once outside in the bright lights of the hall, John removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sherlock knew this to be a sign that he was fighting to control his emotions.

A nurse approached him, awaiting instructions. John cleared his throat, "No visitors except family until Alice is stable, and even then make sure they are supervised, especially with the son. Start her on an Aequus potion, just a low grade one, for now, and let me know if her condition changes. And try to get a reaction out of Frank, standard procedure on him." He sounded so tired and worn, but the nurse wrote down everything and trotted off to administer his commands. John turned to Sherlock, "Let's go to my office." Sherlock nodded and followed him back to the room, where John shut the door, leaning against it as tears rolled down his face. He suddenly looked so much older than he actually was, and Sherlock set Penny on the rug before going to him, hands against the door on either side of his head, sheltering him with his body.

He placed his head against John's and looked deep into those blue eyes, "It's alright. We're okay." He whispered, and John nodded, sniffing as he tried to control himself. Sherlock put a hand against his face and wiped away the tears with his thumb. "You are the best man I know. But you don't need to be so brave, John. Why don't you assign them to another doctor? You don't need to put yourself through this."

John shook his head, "You know I can't do that." His voice was pained.

Sherlock nodded, "I know. But you should know that no one would blame you if you did."

John wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck, struggling to control his tears as he pulled him into a kiss. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't have Sherlock there to support him; he supposed he would have fallen off the deep end long ago. A knock sounded at the door, and John pulled away, placing his hands on Sherlock's chest to push him back so he could open it. Sherlock stayed put. "It's Mycroft. He can wait a bit." He had heard the familiar footfalls on the linoleum tile outside, had recognized the knocking pattern. He leaned down and kissed John again, but the doctor was flushed and nervous, pushing Sherlock away. The taller man laughed quietly and wiped the rest of John's tears away before striding back across the room to Penny. He swung her into his long arms as Mycroft came into the room, appraising John's puffy eyes with a grimace.

"So, doctor, what is the prognosis?" He took a seat in front of the desk, ignoring Sherlock and Penny, eyes on John.

"Well, they're alive…" John started, always focusing on the positives first. Sherlock liked that about him. "But they've been tortured into a state of shock. Alice has more mental trauma than her husband, but they're both out of it. It's unlikely that they will ever be…normal again." He sighed, rubbing his eyes and sitting behind the desk. "Do you know who did it yet?"

Mycroft frowned, "Yes. Bellatrix Lestrange. She's on her way to Azkaban as we speak. Confessed to the whole thing. She seemed rather pleased with her work, really."

"And you've contacted Dumbledore?" John asked. Mycroft nodded. "I suppose he's too busy to make a trip out…perhaps over the holidays…" John was beginning to mutter to himself, which he often did to stay calm. Sherlock had the urge to go to him, to wrap his arms around him and protect him from this pain. He's been protective of John since that day in Hogsmeade ten years ago.

"Well…I suppose there's nothing to do but wait then…I'll see you boys next weekend." Mycroft held out a hand to John, who shook it, and wagged a finger at Penny before striding out of the office.

"Why will he be seeing us next weekend?" John turned to Sherlock, who groaned, having completely forgotten.

"My parents are hosting a birthday party for Penny." He grumbled, but John smiled a little, so he didn't bother trying to convince him they shouldn't go. Instead they went home, putting Penny into her crib in the upstairs bedroom and going down into the kitchen to get something to eat. Neither of them were very hungry after what they had just seen, though Sherlock rarely ate as it was. After a few minutes they gave up, going to their dark room and laying together under the sheets, Sherlock holding John against his bare chest, feeling the warm tears fall against his skin as he fell asleep weeping for their friends.

Please leave me reviews and tell me what you think! I will eventually jump this into the future, but I'd like to know what scenes from the series you would like to see Sherlock John and Penny be a part of!

-xo