Sherlock was going mad. There was little to do when waiting for developments, reports, and even meeting with supposed mass murders. John made him do the unthinkable, sleep. The product of this was strange and detailed dreams that made Sherlock question everything. He dreamed that he, John, a red-headed woman, and a black dog were in the same bed. Sherlock couldn't understand what was being said, and eventually John and the woman started kissing. When it became too much to bear, his dream self stood with the dog and left the room. Sherlock slept fitfully and woke often. His dreams often had John or a bed in them.
Sherlock supposed for being on the run, one could do worse. As much as he hated being stuck in his brother's manor, he quite enjoyed having John to himself. And now, John knew everything. Mycroft had insisted on meetings every couple of days to share developments and information. Sherlock was surprised at how easily John took to the developments, and that he showed very little fear as to the possibilities that lay ahead. Of course, Sherlock knew that John was brilliant, however, the times that John had been taken against his will and put into extreme peril, had made Sherlock wary of involving John. He supposed that was part of the reasoning behind his decisions to fake his death, and pretend to hand over Mycroft's laptop, in order to gain Magnussen's trust. He couldn't bare it if John were in danger. Although, they were all quite in danger now.
As Sherlock played a Mozart concerto upon his violin, he couldn't help as his thoughts wandered. How to expose Mary and Moriarty? What was their reason for being in Albania, where he was committed? What does it all mean?
It was early in the morning, well, earlier than he was used to. Seven AM, and he found himself going down to breakfast, leaving his violin behind. I need John and his insight. John was sitting with tea and toast in front of him, laptop to the side, open on a recent report Mycroft had sent. Sherlock sat across from John, reaching for the pot of tea and a mug fixing himself a cuppa. He thought of Baker Street, and how he would surely be sitting comfortably in his dressing gown and bare feet at this time, and gave a sigh of regret. John looked up at him and gave a smirk.
"Thinking of being in your pajamas?" He murmured, reaching for a piece of toast, and gesturing towards Sherlock, offering some breakfast. Sherlock gave in, reaching for a small piece, not answering John's on point question.
"What do we have on for today?" Sherlock asked, taking a sip of his tea. John looked over the report before answering.
"Later this evening we have a case." John answered, looking him in the eye. Sherlock raised an eyebrow, voicing his first thoughts.
"I thought we were in hiding?" He asked, placing his tea down. John gave a slight shrug, pushing the laptop to Sherlock.
"Mycroft thinks that this double murder has something to do with… Mary." John struggled over her name, but plowed on, "And NSY is baffled anyway. Greg and Mycroft think it would be good for us to be seen, so that the public still knows we're still working." John murmured, watching Sherlock over his tea.
Sherlock was only half listening, as he read about the double murder. Pregnant woman and her husband, both with a shot to the chest. Found at the pool, bodies clean. Messages… It's all about a message to us. The pool we almost died at. Similar gunshot wound as mine. We know who is behind it. The question is what is the message?
Sherlock pushed away the laptop, looking at John again. The doctor was watching him still, lips pursed. Angry, anxious. Wants to be doing something about all of this. Needs to protect others, especially his family. Dressed in best jumper and jeans, meeting of importance.
"What else?" Sherlock asked. John smiled.
"Meeting with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin, Harry's godfather and former professor. At least we have a little happiness today. They'll be here around luncheon." John said, taking another piece of toast. Sherlock swallowed down the rest of his tea, nodding.
John, of course, is excited at the prospect of reuniting a family, and helping his daughter. He doesn't see all the hoops and politics Mycroft and I get to navigate to even start this process. And Black lost everything when he was incarcerated. Status, reputation, and support. For all of Mycroft's contacts, we are still woefully ignorant of wizarding politics.
Something must have shown on his face, for John's smile slipped slightly. "What is it?" He asked, leaning forward. Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Hermione and Harry coming down for breakfast. He snapped his mouth closed as 'good mornings' were exchanged. Harry and Hermione must have been made aware of the visit as well, for they were dressed in clean and what Sherlock assumed to be their best clothes. Hermione wore a flattering purple tee, with clean pressed jeans. Harry too, wore clean pressed jeans, and although they were baggy on him, they were his best fitting trousers, along with a green striped shirt, again, the best fitting out of all of his clothes. Everyone was wearing a smile, as one of Mycroft's maids brought out a platter of porridge, fried eggs and more toast.
Sherlock looked on silently, reaching for one more piece of toast, and eating quietly. Hermione looked to him and gave him a small smile. "Good morning, Sherlock. It's nice to have you at breakfast today." She said, and Harry looked on silently. Sherlock nodded, murmuring a 'good morning', but taking the opportunity to really look over Harry, whom he hadn't observed except on the car ride from Privet Drive.
Mature beyond his years, quiet and studious, but only of things that are of great interest to him. Hard worker, but can give up if it is something he doesn't care for. Small, but strong, a bit athletic. Sentimental, has kept letters on his person, indent in his shirt pocket. Scars on his arms, and on his cheeks, from abuse… from danger? Ah, his end of the year adventures. Really, what are the adults in his life thinking?
John cleared his throat, bringing Sherlock out of his dark thoughts. He looked to John who had one eyebrow raised in question, and Sherlock looked back to Harry.
"Apologies. I like to observe more than small talk. I've been told I make people uncomfortable." Sherlock said, looking to John. The doctor was smirking at him, and Sherlock mirrored the smirk. The boy spoke.
"What did you observe?" Harry asked, taking a bite of eggs. John's smirk dropped and he gave a small shake of his head. Sherlock ignored him.
"Ah. You're mature, quiet and studious, but only if the subject interests you. You're a bit athletic, but sports don't rule your life. You often keep letters on you, for sentimental reasons." Harry blushed at the last sentence, and Hermione looked to him, smiling.
"Really?" She asked, and Harry nodded sheepishly. Hermione smiled wider.
"I do too." She said, turning back to her porridge. Sherlock looked to John, who was smiling at the two. Sherlock found himself wondering about text messages. He had saved John's. Had John saved his? Or Mary's instead?
Sherlock's thoughts were interrupted again by John reminding them of their visitors. Sherlock poured himself more tea, sighing into the cup as Hermione and Harry talked about their plans for the morning. Harry mentioned walking the grounds and Sherlock forced himself to listen again, he took in Harry's tense shoulders.
"No." Sherlock said, taking a sip of tea. Harry, Hermione, and John looked to him. John sighed.
"What?" He asked.
"Harry doesn't want a walk. He wants to ask Hermione about something he is embarrassed about." Sherlock said, looking to the boy, who was reddening. Hermione turned to Harry, a blush going to her cheeks too.
John looked on, a bemused look on his face, "Well?" He prompted. Harry and Hermione turned redder.
"I was hoping Hermione could help me… Well…Train me, I suppose." Harry mumbled, looking to the table for a moment, gathering his courage. "Hermione told me about the training she had, and she's brilliant in school work," Hermione blushed darker red at this, and Harry grinned at her, "It's true, and you know it. I just…" Harry paused a little resigned, "I know that Voldemort won't stop coming after me. I'd rather be prepared in all the aspects I can. I've got to protect myself and my friends. I've always relied on luck. Someone's going to get hurt if it continues." Harry finished, and Hermione's face softened.
"Of course, Harry. We're in this together." She said. Sherlock looked to John who looked stunned at his daughter's admission. He stayed silent though, and since the two were finished with their breakfast, they stood, going somewhere private to talk. The housemaid came to clear away the food and dishes, and when she was out of the room, leaving John and Sherlock alone, John stood, agitated.
"Christ." John said, starting to pace. Sherlock watched, silent. John looked to Sherlock. "Haven't you anything to say on this?" He demanded.
"Why would I? She is not my daughter, I should have no say on anything to do with her." Sherlock said fairly, and with no malice. John glared.
"That's impossible, you have something to say about everything." John said, continuing his pacing. Sherlock gave a small chuckle.
"Are you more upset that she is loyal to her friends to fault, as her father is; or is it that she seems to have taken on more of your personality than her mother's, despite being separated from you?" Sherlock challenged, taking his last sip of tea. John gave an angry, noncommittal noise, and stalked from the room. Sherlock chuckled again, and set down his mug, heading back to his violin, so that he may think some more.
…
Before Sherlock knew it, it was time for the all important meeting. He sighed, moving towards Mycroft's sitting room, and finding it already set for six people, complete with Mycroft standing in front of the window. Sherlock made no noise, but he knew that Mycroft knew he was there. He paused, waiting for his older brother's meddling. He didn't have to wait long.
"How is your vacation treating you?" Mycroft said, fiddling with a pocket watch.
"I hardly call it a vacation, Mycroft." Sherlock scoffed. Mycroft turned to him, smirking.
"Ah, but you have all you want, do you not? A thrilling case, a double murder, and your doctor all to yourself." Mycroft turned away, and Sherlock stayed silent, not denying the facts. "I only wish to warn you, brother mine, although I know you don't take stock in my advice." Sherlock gave an impatient noise.
"You came to sneak a biscuit or pudding. Save your advice, it isn't warranted, nor wanted." Sherlock said, flinging himself into a chair. He could feel his brother's glare upon his back.
"Don't forget, little brother whose house you reside in-" Sherlock interrupted.
"At your insistence! I only wished to hide John and Hermione, I was perfectly safe!" Sherlock almost shouted. Mycroft rolled his eyes.
"I would not let you risk your life without giving you proper tools or help." Mycroft said, his voice turning deadly. "You forget my promise-" Sherlock interrupted again, fearing Mycroft's next words. (Redbeard.)
"How could I forget when you constantly shove it down my throat?" Sherlock said with equal venom. Mycroft's face went slack, which indicated his impatience. He began to walk out of the room, but paused in the doorway.
"I just hope that you haven't placed all your stock in the doctor's basket. I'd hate to see you broken again, so soon." Mycroft murmured, before sweeping from the room. Sherlock felt hot anger and shame boil within him, but managed to keep his face passive. He steepled his hands underneath his chin and closed his eyes tightly. A few moments passed and he heard John's footfalls, followed by Hermione's and Harry's. As the three got comfortable, and talked a bit about Harry's training, Mycroft's maid came in, announcing their guests. Sherlock opened his eyes, taking in the two men.
Sirius Black, dark hair, recently cut and washed, tailored clothes, but from a couple of decades ago… Programmed to take stock in his appearance, but unable or (more likely) indifferent to take in the new styles. Vest and pocket watch have been adjusted several times, nervous tick. Uneasy about being in the open, unsure about trusting us, still suffering from incarceration. Intelligent, but ruled by emotion. Witty in conversation, but has a darker sense of humor than most.
Remus Lupin, easy going, troubling childhood because of illness, newly tailored clothes, again from a couple of decades previous. Still battling said illness, but able to manage it better now, perhaps due to advancements? Used to getting by with little food, money, and human interaction. Intelligent, more than is needed for the physical jobs he's had in the past. Thrives with conversation, and is witty, but seems to search for the good in everyone.
Within moments, Sherlock observed all of this silently, only being interrupted by Harry standing to hug the two men, Sirius only hesitating for a moment before returning the hug. John was smiling and welcoming them, and Hermione was saying hellos to the men shyly. Mycroft's maid brought in tea, biscuits, puddings, and small cakes, and for the next few minutes, there was settling in and pouring of tea. Sherlock poured his own tea, listening to John describe how Hermione strong armed him and Sherlock into helping, and how they would have taken the case without her demanding it. This brought Sirius and Remus to laughter, remarking how they thought her the brightest witch of her age, and how they were reminded of Harry's mother. Harry and Hermione were blushing at the praise and stories about them.
Sherlock sipped his tea as silence descended, and he felt the unease around the room. He gave a small sigh and looked to John discretely. John gave a small nod and spoke.
"So, onto business?" John asked, pulling out a notebook and his pen, looking around to everyone. Sirius and Remus looked at one another, saying nothing, Sherlock seeing the incredulity there.
"I understand your misgivings," Sherlock finally said, putting down his tea and leaning towards the group. "If it will make you more comfortable, I can tell you our knowledge on the current situation, what the solicitor has advised, and that you had a traditional english breakfast this morning, without the tomatoes." He paused, watching the men exchanged another disbelieving look. "We're very good at our job." Sherlock said, smiling. John smiled too.
Remus spoke first. "While we are appreciative of the work that has been done, our ministry is not going to be inclined to open Sirius' case. Especially since those that are backing him are muggles, underaged wizards, and a werewolf." Remus looked to Harry and Hermione, "It's wonderful that you want to help Sirius and make changes, but you don't understand the hoops to jump through." Sherlock watched critically.
"But you do." He stated, catching Remus' attention. The sandy-haired man sighed.
"I know a little, but it's been years since I've been welcomed in the ministry, and even if they were to start the legal proceedings, it would take months, I'm sure." Remus replied. Sirius added,
"And even if I was cleared, it would be doubtful that the ministry or Albus Dumbledore would allow me to become Harry's guardian." Sirius looked crestfallen, as did Harry, prompting John to speak. Wonderful, good John.
"We've only just met, but I already know you would be better for Harry than his aunt and uncle. It doesn't matter how long it takes, because you need to do what is best for your godson." John said with care and authority. It took a moment, but as Sherlock watched Sirius, the man went from slumped and defeated, to strong and purposeful. He looked to Remus, sitting next to him, then back to Sherlock and John.
"Alright. What do you need?" Sirius asked, reaching for another biscuit.
...
(A/N: I apologize for my hiatus. For a while I was very ill and we were also in the process of moving, which took some time. I hope that it was worth the wait, and don't worry: Another chapter will be up soon, as a continuation of this meeting. Thank you for the continued support and comments. Hope you keep enjoying it!)