A/N: Slightly silly chapter for you guys, but we had fun writing it and added a little plot twist at the end. You might think characterisation is a tad off this chapter but we hope it makes you laugh as much as we did. Happy reading!
-Livy and Vi
Back at 221B, the group sat, studying papers and maps, poring over books and instructions.
Sherlock's phone buzzed. John's name popped up on the screen.
Home in a few. Got a surprise for you tomorrow. JW
Sherlock closed the phone and frowned. Not only had John called Baker Street home, but he had a surprise.
"Surprise had better mean cigarettes." He muttered.
"Alright, I've had about as much as I can take." Dean's voice rang through the quiet apartment. "Let's wait for John to get back, and then I say we go out for a drink or two." Sherlock rolled his eyes and sighed.
"I'm going to have to pass." He responded. "Getting shitfaced on a case isn't exactly the most productive way to approach it, in my opinion, but whatever floats your boat."
"I'm going to have agree with Sherlock." Hermione nodded. "I'll stick home."
Cas looked torn. "I won't drink, but it would be nice to go out and socialise for a while." He said wistfully.
Dean cleared his throat and leaned in to talk to Cas quietly. "Cas, it's alright if you wanna stay here, I get it. Sam and I will be fine."
"No, I want to go. It should be fun!" Cas said cheerfully.
"We'll go." Harry said, gesturing to Ron. "Ginny, coming with?"
She blushed and took Harry's arm, grinning. "Of course."
Sherlock huffed. "Well if you're going, please go. I'll send John along when he arrives. But for God's sake, if you get home at 2am please don't make a racket and avoid anything flammable. Some of us will be working."
"Again, life of the party, aren't you, Holmes?" Dean said, sarcasm oozing in his voice. It was indifferent to Sherlock- party pooper was one of the politer names people used for him.
Sam chuckled. "It's alright, Sherlock, Dean and I can hold our liquore."
Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "We'll see."
The group arrived at the local bar, a nice little joint named The Dog And Partridge. They sat at the bar and ordered a round.
"What do you guys want?" Sam asked. "Drinks are on us!"
"Three butter beers." They said cheerfully. Dean suddenly began laughing hysterically.
"Dude, I don't know what that is, but that sounds like the weakest, girliest drink I've ever heard of." He turned to the bartender. "What's one of your stronger mixes?"
"We do one called the Green Lantern." The bartender replied, giving the group a disbelieving look.
"What's in it?"
"To put it lightly, some pretty gnarly stuff."
"We'll take five. Sorry Sam, we need you to direct us back later, and I refuse to let Cas zapp us back." Dean replied, grinning. Cas shifted uncomfortably and tapped Dean's shoulder. "Yeah, Cas?"
"Is this going to give me another headache, Dean?"
Dean chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Cas, I know the perfect hangover remedy."
Four rounds of Green Lanterns later, Harry was drunkenly trying to teach Dean Parseltongue.
"No-no you gotta-hsssaakaaaaaaa." Harry said, spraying Dean in spit.
"Hsssakaaaa?" Dean tried.
"Yeah, yeah. That means your mum is fat, ugly lizard."
"What'd you say about my mom?" Dean asked angrily.
Sam rolled his eyes, suppressing laughter and placing down his empty beer bottle. "Dean, calm down, he has no idea what he's saying."
"Okay, okay, my turn...I spy..." Castiel trailed off.
"Is it Sam?" Ginny asked, squinting at Sam.
Cas slammed his arms down on the table miserably."Yeah, how'd you know?"
"You said him the last fifteen times."
"Ginny, the room is spinny." Ron said, hiccuping. "Heeeeey, that rhymed!"
Sam laughed. "Alright you guys, I think you've all had far too much. Let's get you all back to Baker Street."
"Waaaait, wasn't the short one gonna come?" Dean asked, hiccuping.
"Dean, this is the sixth time you've asked. John decided he didn't want to come drink, he just went home and slept."
"Well, that's no funnn." Harry argued. "Hey, Dean-hssssssaka."
"SHUT UP ABOUT MY MOM." Dean roared.
"OKAY TIME TO GO!" Sam yelled, hauling Ron's arm around his neck and staggering towards the door. Ginny helped Harry up, seeing as she wasn't as drunk as the rest, and Dean and Castiel fell out of the door, laughing with their arms around each other's necks, supporting one another.
"Castiel, have ever told you how pretty your hair is?" Dean asked, his words slurring and flipping Cas' hair.
"Nooooo, but thank you, I think so too." Cas mumbled. "I like your hair more though." He said, touching the spiky hair and giggling. "You're like a hedgehog….a….a grumpy hedgehog." With that, the two collapsed in fits of laughter, holding onto each other with tears streaming down their faces. Sam turned around to look, confused.
"It wasn't even that funny, guys!" Sam shook his head and continued helping Ron through the street.
"Caaaaaaaas."
"Deeeeeeean."
"You're pretty for a boy, Cas." Dean affirmed. "And you're not a bad angel. Most of them are idiots, but don't tell them I said that." He placed a finger on his lips, representing that Cas should keep quiet.
"Thank you, you aren't too bad yourself."
Meanwhile, back at Baker Street, Sherlock typed away while Hermione studied the map.
"You noticed it too." Hermione said suddenly. Sherlock looked up.
"What?"
"Dean and Cas. You saw it, too."
He closed his computer. "Don't be silly. They're like teenagers. Incredibly obvious to everyone except themselves. Even Sam noticed." He huffed.
"Right. A lot like you and Watson." She confronted.
"John? Please. I have standards." Sherlock muttered, and listened to Hermione's laugh.
"Ouch. Anyways, come on Sherlock. I passed with flying colors in muggle and wizarding school, but it takes no expert to deduce that you have a schoolboy crush on John." She snorted. "You stare at him with absolutely no decency, you hang on his every word, you pick up your phone at the first text from him. Come on now. Don't insult my intelligence."
Sherlock had turned a rare shade of pink. "I assure you, Miss Granger, I don't have a crush on John Watson."
Hermione frowned. "You just said it yourself though. It's obvious to everybody but themselves. What are you so afraid of?"
"Hurting him!" Sherlock blurted suddenly. "Good god, the man has been to hell and back, and I am no better. For god's sakes, I let him believe I was dead for three years! And then I showed up and expected him to just welcome me home! I was so selfish and arrogant and he doesn't need me! He deserves so much better than anything I could give him." He collapsed, burying his face in his arms. Hermione, taken aback by this sudden outburst of emotion from and otherwise sociopathic man, sat beside him and patted his back.
"Better? Sherlock, you were there for him through everything. You still are. If anything, you're exactly what he deserves."
"No I'm not." Came Sherlock's muffled voice. "I'm a cold, heartless bastard, and I will hurt him."
"But you need to try. You need to try, for him. If any part of you loves him-"
"For god's sakes, Hermione, of course I love him! With every godforsaken bone in my body! Since the day I met him, I was in love! I would rather die than lose him!" He cried. He suddenly realized what he had said, and covered his mouth.
"So you do love him." She said softly, smiling gently.
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Here we go."
"I'm not going to give you hell for it. But I'm telling you- I will bet anything he loves you too."
"Hermione, John is not gay. He's married, for Heaven's sake!"
"Recently divorced. Let's think about this logically. He said himself he loves Mary, and we know she's a good, loving wife, so why would he divorce her, unless he realised he was gay, or at least bisexual? And Sherlock, tell me, where did he go when he was staying away?"
"He...he came here." Sherlock said softly. "My door was always open."
She nodded triumphantly. "Because who else would he want to be with? Who else could be around? Who does he trust?"
"That means nothing."
"That means everything. If it makes you feel better, I tried to beat the living hell out of Ron after he came back from running away. Long story, I was prepared to curse him into oblivion. But love is the people you come back to. And you two come back to each other." She smiled again.
Sherlock looked up at Hermione with wide, hopeful eyes, and he was no longer the consulting detective, no longer the sociopath with no emotions and no attachments. He was a just a boy, looking for comfort.
"But...how do I tell him? How do I say it?" He asked worriedly. "What if he says no? What if-"
Hermione pressed a finger to his lips. "Sherlock. If he says no, then at least you know how he feels. And as for telling him….give him time. He just divorced his heavily pregnant wife and had his world thrown upside down with magic and demons. Wait, that reminds me…." Hermione nudged Sherlock off his chair and sat down, typing rapidly. "John wasn't affected by the muggle repelling spell."
Sherlock frowned, and peered at the computer screen. Hermione paused, deep in thought. "Does John have any close relatives? Siblings, cousins….?"
"A sister, he has a sister. Harriet Watson. They were separated as children but found each other a few years ago. She's a recovering alcoholic, but that's about all I could find out about her."
"Where do they come from?" Hermione asked.
"John told me an uptown orphanage in London. They moved into a foster home after an incident with the sister."
"What kind of incident?" Hermione asked, brow furrowed intently.
Sherlock shrugged. "There isn't a lot to go on, the report isn't clear. A boy in the orphanage had lured some of the older kids to a cave on a visit to the beach, and whatever it is he showed them, or did to them, in there, they never quite recovered. The other two, a boy and a girl, were diagnosed with insanity and sent to live in an asylum. Only Harriet made it out, but her trauma lead her to alcoholism. Tragic, really."
Hermione's look of confusion had transformed into one of horror.
"What?" He asked worriedly.
"Sherlock," she said quietly. "I need the name of that orphanage. Now."
Sherlock nodded, and ran quickly to his room, pulling a Manila file from his nightstand.
"It's a file of John's, I keep it around for...reasons."
Hermione took the file, and flipped through the various pages. Dates, numbers, addresses….
"Found it!" She cried. She pulled a piece of paper away from the rest and read the small print. "Stockwell Orphanage, London," she recited.
Sherlock typed it into his computer, and after some digging managed to print out a copy of the report. "Looks like a young boy named Tom Riddle was the culprit," he muttered. "Quite a bully, transferred to a special school by an Albus Du- are you okay?"
Hermione had gasped and staggered back, hand across her mouth. Sherlock advanced, because she looked like she was about to faint. "Who is he?"
Hermione shook her head, and Sherlock was surprised to see that tears shone in her eyes. "Lord Voldemort," she whispered. "John's sister was tortured by Lord Voldemort."