Author's Note: Sorry this took a little longer than a week. I've been trying to finish the next chapter for Empire (which is done and being beta read btw), so this got pushed to the back-burner a bit. Enjoy! And a huge thank you to GaeilgeRua for beta reading for me again! 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.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Chapter Three

The atmosphere in 221B was a tad on the tense side over the next few days. Sherlock didn't speak much, lost in his Mind Palace. Hermione spent the days researching and the nights lying awake in bed listening to Sherlock play violin in the front room or rustle about in the kitchen. She supposed she slept too, at some point, because she'd suddenly find Sherlock curled around her as the sun was rising, his gentle breaths ruffling the hair around her face.

There was still no word from Harry, or Draco even, regarding Moriarty and the case. It was maddening, this endless waiting game. How long would it be before he resurfaced, ready to wreak havoc on London once again? The waiting game was starting to get to her, a sort of Cabin Fever building up. It was about this time, she decided to take matters into her own hands. So, while Sherlock was sleeping one evening, dozing on the sofa, Hermione grabbed his mobile and snuck outside for a cigarette break.

It was easy to find the name she wanted, Sherlock had so few contacts in the device. Scrolling down, she found the name 'Mary' and hit send. It rang three times, and Hermione was starting to think she wouldn't answer, when a voice broke through the other side of the line. A cheerful, sing-song voice said, "Sherlock, is that you?"

"Oh...um…" Hermione hesitated, unsure what to say now that she had John's wife on the line. "Actually no. I'm his... His…" What was she?

"You must be Hermione. John mentioned you were staying with Sherlock. Is everything alright? He hasn't gone off his rocker again has he?"

"No. No, nothing like that." She paused, watching a few people walk by the front stoop where she was standing before carrying on. "I actually called because I'm worried about Sherlock and John. They are had a bit of a falling-out, it seems."

"Oh yes. That." There was a sound of shuffling and the closing of a door, and Hermione assumed the woman was moving somewhere more private. "John came home with a bruised hand about a week ago. I'm guessing their reunion did not go well."

"Not exactly." Hermione took a puff of her cigarette and held it for a moment before going on, "I was thinking, it might be time to intervene. Perhaps, we could arrange for them to run into each other? Like a small case or something?"

"I like the way your mind works," Mary giggled. "So, what did you have planned?"

Smiling around her cigarette, Hermione switched the mobile to her other ear. "Okay, well here's what I was thinking…"

. . . . . . . . . . .

Two nights later found Hermione and Sherlock slinking down a darkened alleyway. She and Mary had set up a few false leads for both Sherlock and John to follow on their own, apart from each other, but that would lead them together at some point. Mary seemed far more skilled at manipulation than Hermione originally thought. It came in handy, but she also knew she should keep this woman at arm's length. It may have been a few years, but her MLE skills were still as strong as ever. Constant Vigilance, as Moody would say.

"So, this is what you do for a living?" She whispered to Sherlock, waiting for him to tell her what they would do next.

"Yes," he murmured, eyes watching the street across the way. "I've already solved this case by the way."

"You have!" Hermione's hushed exclaim earned her a scowl, and she flinched. "Sorry."

"It was preposterously easy to solve. I knew who the culprit was before we even left the flat."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione asked, "Then why did you drag us all over the place?"

He's smirked, reaching out and grabbing hold of her jacket sleeve, pulling gently until he could wrap his arms around her. "Because, it was important to you." He kissed her then, using the collar of her jacket to tug her close.

Grinning, she deepened the kiss. He was always so clever. "Alright, smarty pants," she joked pulling back to grin up at him. "Tell me the outcome of the case then." They still had some time to waste before John and Mary arrived.

"Very well," Sherlock muttered, holding her at arm's length to stare into her face. "The email from the client was a ruse, one to spark my interest, but not consume my every thought. So when you pestered me into checking my email this afternoon, I knew you were starting to feel the need to get out of the flat. The photo attachments were taken over a period of three days, as determined by the amount of foot traffic in the background." He paused, enjoying the way her mouth popped open in surprise. It caused a certain stirring down below, one he'd have to take care of later when they were home and alone. "There was never a true burglary, the items in question simply stowed away for safekeeping."

"How could you possibly know that?"

The smirk on his face grew as he began to explain, "The footprints in the mud." When she still gave him a questioning stare, he shrugged and pointed to his feet. "The footprints indicated someone walked into the house, but the ones that walked away were no deeper than before. If the woman had been carrying a heavy suitcase full of family heirlooms, her shoes would have sunk further into the mud on the way out of the house than on the way in."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose, flabbergasted that he'd figured this out so easily. Maybe Mary wasn't as clever as she originally let on. "Okay, but then who do you think sent the email, and who "stole" the heirlooms?"

"Oh, Hermione," Sherlock purred, stepping closer to her and using his index finger to tip her chin upwards. "You sent the email while Mary did all the leg work."

She huffed, shaking her head at how simple he made this all seem. "I guess I have a lot of work cut out for me if I ever want to fool the great Sherlock Holmes, don't I?"

"Don't feel discouraged, love; you are not the first to try and trick me with smoke and mirror games of the mind." Sliding his hand into the pocket of his infamous coat, he extracted his mobile, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You might have also thought to delete the call history on my phone."

When her mouth popped open in surprise yet again, he took the opportunity to kiss her, his tongue slipping inside the wet heat of her mouth for a taste. When he'd finished snogging her senseless, he whispered against her parted lips, "Now, shall we head inside the restaurant over there and get a table while we wait for John and Mary? John takes far longer than I do to solve a case."

Laughing more at herself than anything, Hermione gave into Sherlock's playful mood, glad that he wasn't angry at her and Mary for trying to deceive him. "Only if you pretend you didn't solve this case in a matter of seconds," she said, still smiling before taking his hand and starting to lead him across the street.

"Where's the fun in that?"

She gave him a stern look as they paused in front of the restaurant. As she opened her mouth to further admonish him for his smugness, there was a strangled sound to her left, a scuffle, and then a sigh of defeat. Turning, Hermione found Mary successfully holding John in place, her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she tried not to laugh.

"Mary, John; fancy meeting you here," Sherlock quipped, pulling a large shit-eating grin across his face.

"I hate all of you, just so you know that," John groused, glaring at the two women first before setting his sights on the consulting detective.

"We know," they all answered in unison before Hermione opened the door to the restaurant.

Dinner tonight was certainly going to be an interesting affair. Nevertheless, it needed to happen, so she let the others go ahead of her before she too followed suit. Hopefully, John would listen, and Sherlock would apologize sincerely. Without the two of them working together, Hermione really didn't know if they could catch Moriarty once and for all.