A/N: Some of the inspiration for this chapter came from various sentinel/guide aus I've read. I apologize in advance for all the dialogue.
"You mustn't lose faith, John."
"Hm?" John took one of the earbuds out. "Sorry, what?"
"In my brother," Mycroft clarified, "you mustn't lose faith that he'll return."
"Right." John put the earbud back in.
"He's getting weaker. I know what you're thinking."
John turned up the volume.
"You're thinking this is all a dream. That magic isn't real; that you just had some sort of psychotic break and now you're getting back to normal."
John sighed in aggravation. "Do you mind? I can't listen to you and focus on the-"
"This is more important! I'm not going to lose Sherlock because you decided to be stubborn."
John ripped both earbuds out with a yank on the cord, wincing as they pulled on his ears. "Sherlock. Is. Dead. I don't know how to explain this to you so that you'll understand but he's not coming back."
Mycroft whacked John over the head with his umbrella. "Now, look here John Hamish Watson-Holmes-"
John rubbed the smarting skin and felt a lump starting to form. "That's another thing I wanted to talk to you about. Since when am I married to your brother?!"
Mycroft ignored him as was his wont, "I hereby forbid you from saying anything about Sherlock that isn't true." He poked John in the forehead between the eyes with the very tip of his umbrella.
John felt a chill run down his spine. "What the fuck, Mycroft?! You could have put my eye out!"
"Language."
John shot a glance at his daughter. "She's not even old enough to- You know what? Never mind. Can I get back to work?"
"Don't bother. If you haven't recognized the voice by now you're not likely to. You've gone though the most probable suspects already."
With a frown John said, "That's the thing though, I know I know it. I've heard it before."
Anthea brought John some tea and John beamed at her, "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
"Where's mine?" Mycroft demanded. John noticed the more time he spent with his apparent brother in law the more comfortable Mycroft became in his presence. Mycroft dropped his guard bit by bit and became the childish git he was near Sherlock and his parents.
"Get it yourself." Anthea snapped at him.
John giggled.
Mycroft rubbed his ring, John had noticed now that Anthea wore a matching one on her finger. "Tea."
"Fine." She spun on her heel and stalked off.
"She's going to spit in it."
She didn't, of course. But John could smell that the milk she used was off the date.
Mycroft sighed heavily and put the cup aside. He looked very put upon.
"Would it be possible to make recordings of everyone Sherlock had normal contact with?" John asked. It was important. This new person might lead them to Molly. The pathologist hadn't turned up anywhere, nor had her body. John felt more queasy by the day.
"Yes, although tracking his entire homeless network will-"
"No," John shook his head, "it was someone I interacted with regularly."
"Anthea?" Mycroft prompted, rubbing his ring.
She cleared her throat, "Did you miss me?" came out in Donovan's voice.
"No."
"Did you miss me?" Greg Lestrade.
"No, it was a girl."
Mycroft rolled his eyes. "That would have been helpful-"
"Shh!" John waited for Anthea to do the next voice. "I'm not sure it's a girl, it could have been a high pitched man," he added when Mycroft glared at him.
"Did you miss me?" John didn't recognize that voice.
"No."
"Did you miss me?"
"Close. Not quite."
"Did you miss me?" The same voice was more mocking and sinister this time.
"That's it!"
Anthea looked upset, she and Mycroft shared a look.
"Who was it?"
Anthea cleared her throat, "Molly Hooper."
"How?"
Mycroft's lips formed a thin line. "How indeed. Anthea will take you home."
John sighed. "Before I go, did you think about the safe house issue?"
Once again John lost the argument over a safe house for Mrs. Hudson and his daughter. John understood Mycroft's position, he really did, but it just seemed unreasonable. Mycroft felt that he had a mole on his staff and therefore 221B was safer than anywhere Mycroft could come up with. John, meanwhile, would have liked somewhere more defensible figuring that Mary or whoever knew where they were so it didn't matter where they were bait from. Mycroft never properly denied he was using them as bait and John didn't know why he bothered opening his mouth. He could take his daughter and go but he couldn't leave Mrs. Hudson.
The doorbell rang and John let Greg in.
"How's she doing?"
"Good, how's the search going?"
Greg just shook his head.
John sighed. He felt like he should be doing more. But there wasn't much he could do. He wasn't Sherlock, he couldn't see the little things like that. And Mycroft wouldn't let him near any real information anyway.
"Did you talk to Mycroft about the marriage thing?"
John's eye twitched. "No, he kept changing the subject. For all I know we've been married since I moved in."
Lestrade laughed, "But wouldn't your marriage to Mary be fake then?"
"It was anyway, Mary wasn't her real name. She stole it from a stillborn." John had told himself this many times but it didn't change the fact that the marriage had been real to him.
Greg flinched. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably.
"Oh, sorry, come on in, been hanging out in Mrs. Hudson's flat so she'll stop trying to go upstairs." John opened the door and gestured for Greg to go though.
"How's the little miss?" He cooed at the baby.
"If she'd let me sleep I'd be a lot happier with her." John joked, the dark circles under his eyes showing Greg the truth in the statement.
"Guess I'm lucky the Mrs. and I never had kids," Greg said ruefully.
John had been making an effort to be more open and talk more. He couldn't survive without hope that he'd end up in another relationship, he needed them to feel complete, and communication was one of his weak spots. He swallowed painfully before forcing out, "Did you want them?"
"Yeah."
"'s not too late."
Greg rolled his eyes. "Speak for yourself, mate. I don't know if you noticed but I'm not exactly-"
"Oh, shush." Mrs. Hudson interrupted. "You young people, always thinking you're old."
"Mrs. Hudson, you're not supposed to be up!"
"Well, you forgot the tea."
John sighed in mock exasperation and bathed in the warm glow of domesticity.
"Is Molly dead?" John asked the question on everyone's mind when Mycroft finally arrived.
"We're unsure." Mycroft sat primly and took a sip of his tea. "The body we found was supposed to look like her but on further investigation it was clear it wasn't." He sat the cup in the saucer. "That doesn't leave this room, as far as everyone else is concerned Ms. Hooper is deceased. We're hoping we can lure whoever set this trap into a false sense of security."
"Who's doing this?" Greg asked. "Surely you have some idea."
"We do." Mycroft shot a meaningful look at John who had no idea what he was talking about.
"You going to share?" Greg glared at them both.
"Not at this time." Mycroft set his tea aside.
"Might be more helpful if everyone was on the same page." John said pointedly.
Mycroft gave John the goldfish look. John hated that look.
Anthea arrived and John smiled at her, "I've been meaning to ask, what name do you prefer? I've been calling you Anthea but is there a name you'd like better?"
"Anthea is fine," she said coolly.
John frowned; he didn't know what he said wrong. He had thought they'd been getting along better ever since- of course! John could have smacked himself. All those interactions were dreams!
Then she winked at him as she refilled the tea and John was left very confused.
"See if you can talk some sense into him, yeah? We need his information down at the Yard if we're going to get anywhere." Greg said as he put on his jacket. It was getting warmer but the weather wasn't nice yet.
"I'll do my best," John said without much hope.
Greg clapped John on the shoulder and turned to leave. "Oh!" He spun back. "We spoke to Raoul."
"Yeah?"
"Maintains he's guilty, even told us the instructions came from a woman. Apparently she was Moriarty's second in command. That fits with the handwriting on the envelope found at the first bombing so we're inclined to believe him."
John shook his head. "No way! He's covering. Although, he must be a little bit guilty if he knows the woman who wrote on that envelope left for Sherlock at the first bomb site." John frowned and thought aloud, "Maybe he feels guilty for his part in it or for those people's deaths?"
"Donno." Lestrade put his hands in his pockets. "Just thought you should know, we're keeping the case closed."
"No!" John said loudly, startling even himself. He cleared his throat and continued at a more reasonable volume, "No. This is important. If we find this woman we might find Molly."
"You know what I can't figure out?"
"Hm?"
"Why'd Mary take Molly but shoot Mrs. Hudson?"
John shrugged. "Why'd she shoot Sherlock? Who knows? She's crazy."
"That's the thing though, she killed the cat-"
John couldn't hear more of that and cut him off, "We don't know that for sure, the cat is just missing."
"Right, well. She tried to- wait, she was the one who shot Sherlock?!"
"Yeah, thought you knew."
"And you got back together with her?! Did you know?"
John shifted uncomfortably, "Um-"
"Jesus." Lestrade brought his hand to his mouth as he thought. After a tense moment he said, "You know, you have a point. People in love are insane. Raoul is probably covering. I'll talk to the brother."
John frowned, "What do you mean-"
"You're not an idiot." Greg said darkly. "You know what I mean."
John thought about how Sherlock shot Magnussen; about how he kept his vow despite what would have happened to him; John swallowed thickly. He'd thought, in private, that Sherlock's best man speech was more than friendly; that if Sherlock had spoken like that before the fall-
"John?"
John snapped back to reality. "Sorry."
Greg looked concerned. "You ok?"
"Yeah, that happens sometimes. Don't worry about it." John thought that was the perfect combination of openness and honesty that he was working toward without being too much.
"I'll tell you what the brother says. You tell me what Mycroft says?"
"Yeah..." John was still thinking about hugging Sherlock at the wedding, about how he touched Sherlock more intimately than his new pregnant wife when Sherlock broke the news of the baby, and the handshake on the tarmac...
Greg looked sad, worn and more understanding than he should have when he said goodbye.
John waved him off before shutting the door and leaning against it heavily. He knocked the back of his head against it before allowing his face to fall forward into his hands.
"Welcome back." Mycroft said, clearly referring to how long it took John to return after seeing to Greg's departure.
"Shut it."
"Well, now that he's gone we can discuss what we've found. John, you are forbidden from telling Greg or anyone else not approved about magic." Mycroft finished his statement with another poke of his umbrella.
"Hey!" John protested but his heart wasn't in it. He must have gone upstairs and fallen asleep if people were talking about magic again. "What about Mrs. Hudson?"
"The Hudson's are another magical family. Mrs. Hudson has some magic too."
John eyed her suspiciously.
"Oh, don't give me that look. I'm perfectly normal. I'm a bit like you."
John sputtered, "Me?!"
Mycroft said at the same time equally surprised, "John?!"
"Of course, don't tell me you didn't know?"
They both shook their heads.
"I thought the cat was John's familiar but it is the magpie." Mrs. Hudson explained.
"The magpie is Sherlock's familiar." Mycroft argued.
"No." Mrs. Hudson thought for a moment. "Well, one of them out there might be, but one is certainly John's."
"We'd know if the Watson's had any magical aptitude."
"Except you wouldn't because- oh wait a moment." Mrs. Hudson tried to get up and John helped her. She grabbed a teapot and poured tea while muttering something under her breath. She waited until everyone had at least one sip. "Right, well. John is a protector. That's why you didn't know about him."
"All the seers died out generations ago." Mycroft replied while John could see the pompous dismissive-ness in his expression.
"Except his line. They have some powerful magic hiding them but the last Watson with any powers died before any grandchildren showed talent so John and his sister never learned to control it."
John was getting a headache; this was insane. "This is insane," he repeated the thought aloud because no one else was going to.
"It can't be, Mrs. Hudson is a sooth-sayer. I need to- Urp!" Mycroft's eyes bugged out. "What have you done?!"
"Protected him and his sister from your lot." Mrs. Hudson winked at John. "I'm not too shabby with the charms myself. He can't go telling the higher ups about you. It protects your daughter too, but these things tend to skip a generation."
"How did you, the spell... Your bonded item is a tea-pot?! The tea!"
"Yes, well. A good cuppa can work magic." Mrs. Hudson looked smug. "You're confused." Mrs. Hudson said with a nod after looking at John's expression. "You see, to work magic the lot of us need a bonded object or a familiar. You didn't start getting the dreams until the magpies came, did you?"
"That's right."
"You exist to protect people, that's why you became a doctor and why you went to war, you can't help but fight for good and save lives, it's in your blood. All protectors come from the seer line, you get a sense of when someone is in danger whether you see the future or just have a gut feeling. Seers can also have prophetic dreams. The other side of seers is empaths. Where you're the physical your sister is the emotional. Her job is to help people emotionally. Empaths can feel the emotions around people, the more negative the emotion the stronger they feel them. It's a heavy burden to bear. That's why they are more likely to see the future, so they can prevent some of that emotional turmoil."
John felt numb. His sister had been suffering and he'd never known. He added to it. She said she knew Clara would leave and John said she was being crazy. He was always upset whenever he spoke to her...
"It's imperative that empaths get proper training or they go insane." Mrs. Hudson continued as if John's world wasn't falling apart fast enough.
"If I can't tell anyone about her how am I going to-" Mycroft was cut off by Mrs. Hudson.
"I'm going to teach John and when he's ready he's going over to his sister's and together we'll teach her."
"It's too dangerous. Empaths are incredibly powerful." Mycroft protested hotly.
"Then we'll bring her here, Baker Street is protected by some of the best magic in the country."
John felt dizzy. This wasn't right. Was his sister ok? Was this dream trying to tell him to protect her? Was Mary after her?
"This isn't a dream, John."
"No." John felt like he was under water.
"John? Doctor Watson, are you alright?"
"No." John couldn't breathe.
"He's having a panic attack."
"Don't touch me!" John shrieked.
Anthea appeared in his line of sight and put a cool hand on each cheek. "John, look at me."
"No." John tried to beat her off but she was too strong.
Her glamour faded and she looked like a ghoul. "This is real. And you need to calm down if you're going to help your sister. Don't you want to help her? You're twins, right? Don't you miss feeling close to her?"
"Yes." John said weakly.
"That's it, breathe with me. In, out, in... good. Like that. She needs you, John. You're the only one who can help her."
John took one shuddering breath after another. When he calmed he said weakly, "I'm ok. Thank you." He was embarrassed by his outburst.
"Nothing to be ashamed about." She helped him up. "Mrs. Hudson made a nice cup of tea, why don't you have some."
John took some sips and started to feel sleepy before he'd even finished. "Damnit," he moaned. "When will you all stop drugging me?" The cup fell to the floor but didn't break. John slumped forward, fast asleep.
When he woke he had an awful crick in his neck. "God, what a weird dream," he muttered as he tried to work the sore muscles.
Anthea plopped down in the seat next to him. "Feeling any better?"
John almost fell backwards in his chair out of shock but the ghoul caught him.
"They aren't dreams, John."
"Yes they are. Sherlock is..." Try as he might John couldn't say the word dead. "Alive." John's eyes widened and he looked at Anthea pleading, "Sherlock is alive?"
"Sort of. He's not dead, anyway."
A giant weight was lifted from John's shoulder. "Well then, where the fuck is he?!"
Anthea shrugged. "Another body turned up. I'm to take you there now that you're awake."
"How's Mrs. Hudson?"
"She's fine. Greg is babysitting."
"Oh, he just left..." Anthea was giving him a strange look so he asked, "What?"
"John, I know it's hard to tell with all the windows covered, but are you really not aware that it's morning?"
John groaned. "What about Greg's work?"
"Don't worry about that." Anthea stood and extended a hand to John. "Well? Shall we?"
He glared at her, "You just left me at the table all night?"
"Well, I was at the body for a fair amount of the time. Besides, most people don't want a ghoul carrying them around and as much weight as you've lost you're still not light."
John could understand this and he hated to appear weak but he'd already decided he needed to be less closed off. He said, "I don't mind if you carry me, in the future. Just not in front of everyone, yeah?" Anything would be worth waking up with less of a headache. Plus, with Mary and who knows who else out there the painful distraction might be the difference between life and death.
"Oh, almost forgot. Go grab your familiar. It'll be hard to do magic without it."
Slightly dazed and still under the influence of the sedative John went upstairs without another word. He angled his body so it was unlikely he'd be seen by a sniper or anyone watching and opened the window. All three magpies hopped in, squawking loudly. It sounded like they were upset at being left outside so long.
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry." John rubbed his hand through his hair. He needed a haircut. "Which one of you is mine?"
They all looked offended but one flew to his shoulder.
"Right. Do you have a name?"
The magpie cackled.
"I guess you'll tell me later." John mumbled and turned to go. At the door he said to the others, "Don't make a mess while I'm gone." He went downstairs still thinking that this was all insane.
End A/N: I'm sorry if it seems like the characters waver and change their minds a lot. In my experience people have a tendency to fall back on old habits even when they firmly decide something; especially if that decision is made in haste during an emotional time.