Sherlock's eyes open and he looks around confusedly, trying desperately to keep his eyes open, blinking too much, and then failing miserably.

"Got it," he hears.

Sherlock tries to get it in his head that he should move but then again, his mind is still too confused for sudden movement. Closing his eyes and concentrating to keep calm, he tries to remove the springing headache forming in his head with his Occlumency. When he opens them again, he sees the beautiful face of Lady Irene Adler, staring at him with a small smile on her face.

He sits up immediately, wanting to talk to her but she places a gently finger to his lips. "Oh, shush now. Don't get up. I'll do the talking."

He lays back on the bed as Lady Adler presses her thumbs to his forehead. He looks around. They're at the empty Leaky Cauldron at night. They are both sitting on one of the tables. They both look at each other briefly before Irene stands and goes by the window, looking outside.

"So, the muggle follows the wizard—" she starts.

On cue, the door to the Leaky Cauldron opens and a wizard comes in, as well as a muggle, holding a case.

"—and the muggle? Places his case on the table. Inside the said case are—"

The muggle goes by the table and opens his suitcase. There are clothes inside. Looking around to check if there are other people in the room, he opens the case's secret compartment and shows a couple of knives pointing towards him.

"—circus equipment... A knife thrower..." her soft voice continues.

The muggle places his hands on one of the knives and smiles to himself.

"Now, you said that there was a backfire, but there wasn't, was there? It was another kind of noisy thing. The crack echoes and the muggle turns to look—"

The muggle grabs one of the knives from his case in a panic and points it at the sudden commotion.

"—and sees a wizard apparate before his eyes. The wizard, in realisation, moved to grab his wand to obliviate the muggle—which was his big mistake."

The muggle, who had a knife in his hand, jumps violently at the sudden movement of the wizard, and throws himself backward, forgetting about his case full of knives, and is stabbed in the back by multiple knives. The man falls on the ground with the knives stuck on his back with the knives leaving the case. The movement causes the said case to close on its own. Blood floods the floor as the muggle breathes his last.

"By the time the wizard realised what has transpired, the muggle's already dead. What he doesn't do is inform the authorities, instead removed all evidence, and left."

The wizard uses his wand to vanish all the knives from the man's back and removes traces of his shoes on the unswept floor. The wizard, then, disapparates, unknowingly leaving last footprints of a man turning around on one spot - the movement obviously meaning a disapparition.

"An excellent circus-act, recently has paranoia and trust issues who is... a knife-throwing muggle. You got that from one look? Definitely the new sexy."

"I..." he blinks, the potion on him still in effect. "I..."

Sherlock, then, feels the comfort of his bed at Hogwarts once more. He sinks down onto the bed and a sheet is wrapped around him. He sees Irene remove her hands gently away from his forehead as he starts to close his eyes.

"Hush now..." Irene says, softly. "It's okay... I'm only returning your robe," she whispers.

He comes back into consciousness and finds himself alone on his bed, wrapped in a sheet. He lifts his head and body from the bed.

"John?" He shakes his head, clearing it from the effects of the Weakness Potion. "John?!"

Sherlock throws the sheet off and loses balance, then falls from the foot of the bed to the floor. John, who was given the permission to come to his private bedroom from Sherlock's calling, opens the door to the bedroom and comes in as he sits up.

"Hmm... Sleeping Draught affects you less," John comments. "You okay?"

"How did I get here?"

"Well, I suppose you don't remember much. You weren't making a lot of sense. Oh, I should warn you: I think Headmaster Lestrade saved a memory of you in a pensieve in his office."

Sherlock stands up, looking around. "Where is she?"

"Where's who?"

"The Woman—that woman."

"What woman?"

"THE Woman! The Woman woman!"

"What? Irene Adler?" Sherlock nods in answer. "She got away. No one's seen her." Sherlock goes to see a bookshelf that is an inch away from its original position. "She wasn't here, Sherlock."

Turning abruptly, Sherlock drops to the floor once again. He drags himself across the room, looking under the bed, to his left and right, anywhere, trying hard to see if Lady Adler is still in the room. He looks around, looking at his shelves, his desks, everything, any clue on what she did in his room.

"What are you...? What? No no no no. Back to bed." John man-handles him back to his bed and covers him with the sheet once more. "You'll be fine in the morning. Just sleep..."

"Oooof course, I'll be fine. I am fine. I'm absolutely fine."

"Yes, you're great. Now, I'll be next door if you need me."

"Why would I need you?"

"No reason at all."

John walks out of Sherlock's bedroom—which would be one of the few places where no one has gone in except John since he is Sherlock's doctor—shutting the door behind him, and goes to their intertwined quarters—a common room. Mary is sitting by the fire, waiting, and he goes to sit beside her.

"Sorry about that," he tells her.

"Sherlock in trouble again?" Mary smirks.

John smirks. "As usual... Come on," he tells her, patting her leg as he stands up. "Let's go grab a Butterbeer."

"Hardly appropriate for our age, John."

"No one's too old for Butterbeer."

The two smile at each other before leaving to go to Hogsmeade. Fortunately for both of them, no one seems to be in need of medical attention at the moment—except Sherlock, of course.

Inside, Sherlock closes his eyes once more, about to fall asleep when he hears it.

An orgasmic female sigh.

Sherlock opens his eyes in surprise and sits up, looking at his robe that is on the coatrack beside his door. He looks at it, knowing that it can only be there if Irene returned it. He gets out of bed and wobbly walks towards it, losing balance once but manages to compose himself. Finally, he gets to the coatrack and takes out the source of this sigh.

He grabs a sort of small notebook, which is about the size of his hand. He notices that it is magically hand-made. The cover is black leather that reminds him of the feel of her whip-transfigured wand on his head...

He opens the notebook and sees the words:

Till the next time, Professor Holmes.

It is written in a beautiful cursive penmanship and he knows Lady Irene Adler was the one who wrote it. Amazing. Sherlock has never seen this kind of wizard technology before. It's almost as if a phone is being invented for wizards. First is Moriarty's one-way mirror. Next is Lady Adler's small notebook.

Despite them being on the other side, he admires their work and the fact that they are bringing muggle technology in the Wizarding world with ease—something previous wizards were trying hard to do.

From his observations and admiration towards the other side, he is completely oblivious to the kiss-shaped lipstick on the side of his mouth.

—oOo—

Sherlock goes to the Great Hall for breakfast but rolls his eyes when he sees his brother standing by the high table, talking to the Headmaster and the other professors in a hushed tone. John is currently in a heated discussion with Mycroft. Sherlock can make out his name and the word "rest." He rolls his eyes.

Thankfully, only a few students are awake at the moment since it's Sunday and most of them are on the seats near the door—probably because it's too awkward to sit near the professors at their small number. The students all whisper on why on Earth the Minister of Magic is doing here.

Mycroft, predictably, walks towards Sherlock with a fake smile on his face. "Sherlock," Mycroft greets.

Sherlock rolls his eyes, not bothering to sit on the high table, and instead sits on the Ravenclaw table. Breakfast appears and John stands up from the high table and moves to sit with him as well, as he has always done since they met.

"What do you want?" Sherlock grumbles. He looks at John. "Where's Mary?"

"A bit busy," John answers, trying to conceal a laughter through coughing.

Mary is not in the Great Hall since she's too busy when, a few hours ago, as she was about to leave the hospital wing to go to John's private bedroom for a... meeting, a sixth year used an Engorgio Charm on his manhood. John laughed like an idiot when Mary told him earlier why she didn't get to go to him last night.

"What of the photographs?" Mycroft asks. He stands on the opposite side of the table where the two are currently sitting.

"The photographs are perfectly safe," Sherlock replies.

"In the hands of a fugitive sex-worker."

Sherlock snaps, "She's not interested in blackmail. She wants... protection for some reason."

"Couldn't she have used the Fidelius Charm? Disillusion herself? Anything?" John asks.

"She'd want protection, not just magic. Magic can be counter-cursed... but power plays? Power plays have to be thought through. Pride is much more valuable to break—wizard or muggle," Sherlock answers, his mind remembering Irene Adler's smirk and audacity. He doesn't see Mycroft and John share a look. "I take it you've stood down the police investigation into the shooting at her house?"

"How can we do anything while she has the photographs? Our hands are tied."

"She'd applaud your choice of words," Sherlock comments. John smirks as Mycroft sighs. "You see how this works: that box is her 'get out of Azkaban free' card. You have to leave her alone. Treat her like royalty, Mycroft."

"Though... not the way she treats royalty." John smiles sarcastically and Mycroft smiles back humourlessly.

Ahhh...

John's and Mycroft's eyes widen and they both frown at the sudden noise. Thankfully, the students are too busy being noisy themselves while the professors are talking amongst themselves.

"What was that?" John asks.

Sherlock tries to look innocent. "Text."

"Text? You're using a phone? Inside Hogwarts?" John asks.

"No."

"...Alright, never mind, but what was that noise?"

Sherlock leans sideways to get the notebook from his robe pockets. John and Mycroft both stare at Sherlock as he opens the notebook.

Good morning, Professor Holmes.

Sherlock closes his—no, not his... Lady Adler's—notebook but places it beside his plate instead of putting it back in his pockets. He decides to change the topic before the two ask more questions about his inappropriate messages.

"Did you know there were other people after her too, Mycroft? Before you sent John and I in there? Muggle CIA-trained killers, at an excellent guess."

"Yeah, thanks for that, Mycroft." John smiles mockingly.

"It's a disgrace—" Professor Hudson says, giving Sherlock the Daily Prophet—"sending your little brother into danger like that. Family is all we have in the end, Mycroft Holmes."

"Oh, shut up, Professor Hudson."

"MYCROFT!" "OI!" Sherlock and John yells at the same time.

Everyone in the Great Hall falls silent and looks at the loud interruption The students look in surprise to see their professors yelling at the Minister, for goodness' sake, and even daring to use the Minister's first name. Mycroft looks at the three in front of him and shifts uncomfortably.

"Apologies," Mycroft says, cringing.

"Thank you," Professor Hudson scolds, as she moves to walk towards the staff table.

"Though do, in fact, shut up," Sherlock adds.

Ahhh...

Sherlock looks at the notebook once more, which grabs Professor Hudson's attention. "Ooh. It's a bit rude, that noise, isn't it?" Sherlock ignores her and looks at the newly written message.

Feeling better?

"There's nothing you can do and nothing she will do as far as I can see," he says immediately before they have the courage to ask about the notebook.

"I can put maximum surveillance on her."

"Why bother? You can follow her tracks on the Daily Prophet. I believe her pen name is 'TheWhipHand'."

"Yes. Most amusing.. 'Scuse me," Mycroft says, looking up on the ceiling.

They see a ball of light blast through Hogwarts and Mycroft immediately places a Muffliato Charm between him and the light, and everyone. Sherlock watches him suspiciously as Mycroft listens to whatever the light was saying, while John looks back at him and down at the notebook on the table.

"What's that?" John asks.

"What's what?" Sherlock asks in return.

"That notebook? Haven't seen that before. Where did you get it?"

"Found it in my robe. It most likely has the Protean Charm [1] on it."

"And so it gives you messages?"

"Exactly." Sherlock nods and the two falls silent... until...

"Why does your notebook make that noise?"

"What noise?"

"That noise—the one it just made."

"It emits a sound signal—it means I've got a message."

"Like a phone," John says, fascinated. Sherlock gestures in a way that means, 'Yup. There you go.' Thinking, he adds. "That shouldn't be its usual noise."

"Well, somebody charmed the notebook and apparently, as a joke, personalised its sound signal noise."

"Hmm... So every time they write you—"

Ahhh...

Sherlock pauses. "It would seem so."

"What was that?" Mary asks, sitting beside John. They share a quick kiss before Mary starts grabbing some food. John whispers to Mary and tells her what just transpired in the few minutes. Meanwhile, Sherlock looks at the notebook once more.

I'm fine since you didn't ask.

Sherlock puts down the notebook again and goes back to reading the Daily Prophet absentmindedly and trying hard to look innocent.

Just then, John finishes telling Mary everything and says, "I'm wondering who could have owned that notebook, because you found it in your robe, didn't you?"

Sherlock raises the newspaper to hide his face. "I'll leave you to your deductions."

John smiles teasingly. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Where do you get that idea?" Sherlock asks, trying to sound innocent and his usual sarcastic self. Mary and John share a look and try to hide a laugh.

Mycroft, on the other hand, has to remove the Muffliato Charm to be able to use the Patronus Charm. Sherlock watches as Mycroft's patronus—a Leopard [2]—forms in front of Mycroft.

"Bond Air is go, that's decided. Check with the Coventry lot. Talk later," Mycroft tells his patronus and sets it off to send its message.

As Mycroft comes back to the trio, Sherlock looks at him. "What else does she have?" Sherlock asks. Mycroft simply raises his brows in question. "Irene Adler. The American muggles wouldn't be interested in her for a couple of compromising photographs. There's more." Sherlock stands up and goes around the table to face Mycroft. "Much more." Mycroft simply stares at him as Sherlock walks closer. "Something's big coming, isn't it?" he whispers.

"Irene Adler... is no longer any concern of yours. From now on, you will stay out of this."

Narrowing his eyes, he challenges. "Oh, will I?"

"Yes, Sherlock... you will." Sherlock shrugs in reply and sits back down beside John. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a long and arduous apology to make to a very old friend."

Casting a charm to one of the violins on the side of the Great Hall, he says, "Do give her my love."

He makes the violin play, 'God Save the Queen,' as Mycroft leaves the Great Hall with a huff.

—oOo—

"Wizards are idiots," Sherlock tells the room of seventh years. The students immediately protest but Sherlock raises his hand in reply. They immediately shut up. "Wizards are idiots," he repeats with much more emphasis. "If I ask you—" he points at one of the students—"what to do when you're in a duel against another wizard, what would you do?"

"I'd curse him or her, sir," the Hufflepuff says with a strength and pride in her voice.

"What if that wizard disarms you?" Sherlock asks.

"Then I'm dead." She shrugs.

"WRONG!" Sherlock yells at the whole classroom. "You are not dead. You are wandless," he points out.

"Isn't that practically the same?" a Gryffindor boy asks.

"That right there!" Sherlock points at the boy. "That is precisely why wizards are idiots!" The Gryffindors start to protest. "Oh shut up! I did not say Gryffindors are stupid. I'm saying all wizards are stupid."

"Even you?" a Ravenclaw girl asks.

"All wizards except those who are actually smart enough to be what is convenient."

They listen to Professor Holmes intently when they realise that the professor is not just saying that only he is not stupid. He said wizards who practice something.

"Be like what, exactly?" a Slytherin girl asks.

"Muggles."

"But what can muggles do against a wizard?" a Gryffindor girl asks.

"Yes! Yes! Exactly!" Sherlock yells triumphantly. The students look at him in question, clearly not understanding what he is trying to say. "Oh, look at you, children," he says genuinely in awe, "you're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing," he says without mockery or sarcasm—to the students' surprise. "Wizards are prejudiced. Yes... Wizards are very prejudiced. It may not be the same way as it was years ago, but there are still traces of prejudice in the Wizarding World. Compared to the Muggle World, the Wizarding World is practically stuck at the age the muggles had had centuries ago. In the Wizarding World, the muggles are still seen as weak compared to wizards even though we had tried to add more of their technology in our world. If one knows how greatly the muggles had progressed in the past century alone, you wouldn't believe their intelligence."

"So, professor, you're saying that we should act like muggles when disarmed?" a Hufflepuff girls asks in question.

"Yes."

"Hand-to-hand combat!" a boy yells.

"Ten points to Slytherin!" Sherlock says. "When disarmed, you are not defenceless when you still know that you have a chance by using your own body. A wizard would expect you to duel with a wand. A wizard would expect you to use magic, especially in circumstances of war. People wave around wands and that's it. Who would expect a wizard to run towards you, throttle you to the ground, and push his or her thumb in your eye sockets?" Sherlock asks.

The seventeen-year olds all frown in disgust in the thought of eyes being stabbed.

"Any moment now, Sir Watson will be coming in the room to show you how hand-to-hand combat is done. Now they key is..." Sherlock, then, starts talking about hand-to-hand combat. He shows and explains the complexity of it that got the students' attention.

"Er, Sherl—Professor?" John asks, coming in. "Oh, sorry, you're still teaching."

"Actually, I need you right now for demonstration."

"Sherlock, there's an injured kid in the hospital wing that severely needs healing attention," John protests sternly.

"I'm sure your girlfriend is capable of tending to a kid's injuries," Sherlock students all whisper their confirmation that Sir Watson is, in fact, dating Miss Morstan. "Now, come here and duel with me. Now."

Annoyed at his best friend's habits, John threats, "Oh, I'd keep my eye out, Holmes." The students all have one thing in mind: Never mess with Auror Healer Watson.

When John walks to the front of the class, nearing Sherlock, the students all jump up and walk to the sides of the classroom. Sherlock vanishes everything that takes up too much space in the classroom. Everyone is standing side-by-side, their backs to the wall, excited at, finally, a real duel between Professor Holmes and Sir Watson. They always only see the professors curse and shield themselves in lessons.

"Salvio hexia," [3] Sherlock starts, putting the defensive spell around the room, shielding the students from him and John.

"Ready?" John asks, taking his wand from his robe pockets.

"As ever," Sherlock answers.

They bow at each other and take position, and quickly...

John wordlessly sends a spell at Sherlock which Sherlock quickly shields himself from. Sherlock, then sends a hex at John which John gracefully avoided by stepping to the side, and uses his wand to change the direction of the hex and throws it at Sherlock. The Professor throws a spell that hits the hex John threw back at him, which made a small explosion, the light vanishing between them.

John throws three powerful spells at Sherlock. The students' eyes widen at the power behind those spells and how the professor could shield himself with that. Sherlock dodges the spells by quickly dropping to the ground, and sending a hex on John's legs in which John dodged by jumping.

The two continue their duel, sweating, gaining new bruises and cuts. Until finally, John yells, "Expelliarmus," at the space where he knows Sherlock will land after dodging his two spells.

Sherlock's wand was taken out of his hand and into John's. The students start to clap, thinking it is all over.

As John was about to send another curse at him, Sherlock runs and jumps on him and starts to throttle him—much to the surprise of the students. John immediately turns around and throws Sherlock to the ground before locking his arms behind him as John pins him to the ground. They pay no attention to the students shouting as if they are in a wrestling ring. In a way, they are.

Sherlock twists himself away from John and throws him as well, and finally grabs his wand once more before casting a Stinging Hex at John which hit him on the side of his face.

"You bastard!" John yells, throwing his robe at the side. As he throws quick and abrupt spells at Sherlock which the man is busily dodging, he transfigures his robe into a chair and throws it at Sherlock while he is still dodging spells. Sherlock was, then, hit in the face as well and groans at the impact as he falls to the ground.

"Locomotor Mortis!" [4] John yells.

"Colloshoo!" [5] Sherlock yells at the same time.

Both of them were hit by the spell and both cast "Expelliarmus!" at the other. Their spells meet mid-flight and explodes between them, causing them both to go ballistic, hitting the ground rather hard.

"Truce?" John asks, lying on his stomach and attempting to stand up, using his arms to push himself up.

"Truce!" Sherlock yells, still lying on his back, raising a thumbs-up.

They both remove the curses on their bodies and stand up. John removes the Salvio Hexia and the students clap and cheer at the two excellent duellers.

"And that, class, is what you should do in a duel. Surprise your enemies. Though I was disarmed, I managed to get my wand back through muggle means, and surprising Sir Watson as well. He, using muggle force, threw a chair at me, which is also somewhat of a surprise... and something he never did before."

Sherlock looks at John sternly whilst John gives him an innocent grin. John, then, goes to the said furniture and transfigures it back to his robe and wears it on again. The class all mutter in excitement.

"I will be teaching you actually helpful and truly useful spells and hexes that can be used as actual defence against the dark arts, and not just silly wand-waving to show-off to your friends. John, here, will help me teach you the muggle style of defending your—"

Ahhh...

Sherlock freezes and looks at the class in horror. The class all stare back at him in surprise, amusement, and confusion. John simply stares at him, rubbing his face. Sherlock, then, grabs his notebook in his pocket and looks at the new beautifully written message.

Great duel, Professor Holmes.
I
wanted to join but I didn't want
to embarrass you two.

IA

Sherlock, then, tries to look around to search for her but finds no one else except John and his students before smirking to himself, pocketing his notebook. Oh, she did embarrass him alright. The seventeen-year olds whisper at each other to know what links that sigh with Professor Holmes.

"Your message buddy again?" John asks exasperatedly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, John," Sherlock mumbles. "Perhaps you need healing attention from Mary." Before John manages to tease him again, he adds, "You can go back to the hospital wing now."

"Yeah, shouldn't keep my girlfriend waiting," John says, moving towards the door.

Sherlock smirks. "Or else she'll drag you back there."

"You shouldn't keep your girlfriend waiting either. Might want to reply," John says, pointing at the notebook in Sherlock's pocket, before going out of the classroom.

"Girlfriend? What girlfriend? John?!" he tries but John has already left the room, leaving him in a room with curious students. Curse John.

—oOo—

[1] The Protean Charm is the charm used to link objects together. According to the Harry Potter wiki, Hermione used this to link fake Galleons to communicate with the DA.

"A change in one fake Galleon (in this case, a master coin) would be magically reflected in the others so that when Harry transfigured his coin to show a new date for a DA meeting, the transfigurative change would be carried over to all others, which would also emit heat as a signal tat they were being changed by the charm to conform with Harry's."

Irene's notebooks signal would be her orgasmic sigh, because... why not?

[2] I think Mycroft would have a Leopard. Leopards are cunning, highly intelligent, and secretive. They are also the stealthiest predator.

[3] "Salvio Hexia" deflects spells and hexes from the area with the defensive spell.

[4] Locomotor Mortis is the leg-locker curse.

[5] Colloshoo causes the target's shoes to stick on the ground.