Author's Note
I don't own any of the Harry Potter or Sherlock universe

Chapter 10. Ashes and Thorns

Sherlock POV

John puts up the last of the papers. He's looking at me oddly again, well, rather grinning at me oddly. What on Earth could he be smiling about? Actually, I don't really want to know why considering the likes of his usual train of thoughts regarding me. I'm probably not going to live this down for weeks from him, if ever. Hermione now takes a step back and scans all the evidence, her eyes skimming through all the material, categorising and memorising and looking for the pattern, the string, to tie it all together. Her eyes are furrowed in concentration as she continues to look, the only problem is that we don't even know if there is a string to pull it together.

I stand beside her, looking at the masterpiece of evidence before us. Hundreds of letters, pictures, and documents plaster the wall, and only a quarter of them are completely decoded and understood. I had always worked on this so much too, and all we had was more mysteries, threats, and a handful of useful information in hopes to see something. All it is though is just a taunting face laughing at us.

I close my eyes in frustration. There's too much here, there are too many variables, too many stimuli of information to focus. Before in the lab, it had the perfect conditions, no lights, no other objects besides those I needed, and most importantly no other people or their thoughts to both me. Now, though, with this stupid promise to Hermione it complicates things, not only for them but for me as well. For one, the room is too bright and while Hermione and John do help, they harbour so many extra thoughts, extra actions. My brain can't seem to shut them out either, and I can't focus on both while they're in here.

"Get out," I need them gone now if I have any hope of focusing on the case. Hermione opens her mouth to retaliate but John quickly grabs her hand and drags her out of the room before she can say anything. I sigh, close my eyes and enter.

I'm walking down the hallway again, searching for nothing, in particular, letting the doors lead me to what I need. Slowly the hallways begin to bend and change, the doors warping as they play memories before me. I dismiss them and they oblige, disappearing as soon as I command. I continue to walk, but then I stop, this is the hallway I've been looking for. The air is cooler now, and dimmer too, unlike the other earlier hallways this one's more cold, more calloused, the lights and warmth are all gone now. This is where I held it, this is where I hide them all. My steps echo as I travel deeper into it, whispers fill my head, voices calling out from the doors. I try to shut them out, but they don't listen, they never listen. Yes, it's here, though, I know it. I then find the door, so small and unnoticeable one wouldn't find it unless they wanted to. I touch it, and it withers from the heat of my touch. I back away before I slowly shove it open.

XXX

I'm ten years old again, and still standing in the house at the scene. I can feel the innate fear coursing through me, and I can't control it at all. My legs still keep shaking yet I stand stiff still; my heart rate is elevated as I continue to stare at the body before me. I want to tear my eyes away from it but I can't, I can't move, I can't breathe, I can't do anything. Her legs are still broken and turned in unnatural positions, the M ever carefully carved m still bleeding through. Her haunting eyes keep staring at me, like she's calling me, blaming for this. As if her being dead is my fault. This is my fault, this is my fault. I slap myself and look again, this time trying to steady my heart rate. It's just a body, it's just a body.

John stands at the scene, though he's farther away by now. He turns to look for me through the dizzying crowds of police swarming through the household but can't find me. Newspapers reporters cram into the place too, and the flashing bright lights make me lightheaded. The air is so thick with people it's hard to move, or even breathe. A policeman then pulls me aside, he's saying something to me but I'm hardly paying attention to him. I try to look at him again but words don't seem to be coming out of his mouth. The only thing I can discern from him is a concern and worried expression on his face. He keeps asking me again and again but the words don't make any sense and I can't open my mouth to answer anyways. I quickly run away and he chases after me, but there are too many people and much too large of a crowd for him to ever find me again.

That's when I notice it, the picture frame on the dresser. This is why I came here, to find this. It's a simple silver one, one old but well kept. In the frame of it is a picture of Edna with another picture of some relative or another. It's so ordinary I wouldn't have normally noticed it, but standing here now, I realise something's off about it. Something's wrong with it, something's missing. When I reach out to grab it a painful shock courses through me, burning all the way to my bones. The pain is so strong, so powerful, I must have set it there myself. I wince at my own trap, even as I step away the pain still remains strong. I look at my hand to see burn marks, but of course, there are none. I look up to see everything is disappearing, the pictures melting like candles, the paintings dripping onto the floor, the people fade away like shadows. No, they're not disappearing, I'm disappearing. I'm fading away, I'm not sure even if I'm going to exist anymore. In desperation, I call out for John one last time and he turns to look back in my direction but by then I'm too far gone.

I open my eyes, though my other senses wake up before me. I cough, my throat is so dry like I've been screaming for hours. I lick my lips, which are dry and are covered in something bitter, most likely blood. I can taste now the blood in the back of my throat too now, it's so bitter, and my mouth's full of it. It's filling me, making it nearly impossible to not choke on it. I try to look around, but it's dark, I can't even see myself in here. I then smell the air, it smells full of chemicals like the lab, and ageing wood, and smoke? I breathe in again, yes smoke, filling the air all around me. I try to run away from the smoke, it's so thick now I can almost touch it, it burns to even try to breathe. I try to run but feel the quick yank of the metal shackles onto which my ankles are attached. I completely open my eyes this time, everything around me is burning to the ground. I'm in a fire again and trapped here too. I'm in Molly's lab I think, but I can't tell with all the smoke and ash. The ash hurts the worse, it burns my eyes to look more than a minute or so. Everything in here is dying, I can feel it, even I'm dying. I look, all my work, all my notes, all the letters burning, except the one clutched in my hand. Desperate to see what it reads I open it, only to see two words: "Miss Me?" I turn around to see someone, or something looking behind me but I'm all alone. I'm all alone in here to die. The walls begin to warp and cave in and can hear his voice echoing and taunting me from all the walls.

"Ring around the Rosies,
Pocket full of posies,
Ashes, ashes,
We all fall down."

"There's an east wind coming, Sherlock, and I can't wait to see how it makes you dance."

Blood drips from the walls, and now I can't help but suffocate on the air, coughing and gasping between breaths, desperate still to try to live. I want to live, I need to live again. I want to make it out of here, I don't want to die here, I need to see her one last time. My desperation is futile, though; all I receive in return for my attempts is a distant cackle while the melody of the nursery rhyme blares louder and louder until it echoes in my mind and makes my ears bleed. I'm going to die here, I'm going to die here.

"Oh don't fight it, that's no fun. You're going love being dead anyways. Hermione already loves it." The shackles break and I see Hermione's body, grotesquely twisted on the ground like the other victims. I run over to her, praying she's still alive. When I get to her she's alive, but only barely, her eyes are starting to cloud over, and she's so pale, and even in the heat of the fire her body's so cold, so chilling. A large M is carved across her chest and she keeps coughing blood. Her voice is so weak when she tries to speak I can barely hear it.

"You could have saved me, Sherlock, you could have saved me." She keeps repeating this over and over, and it makes my head want to explode. The fire is out of control by now, the smoke much too heavy for me to even see. My chest is pounding and I try to scream over the roar of the flames but it's no use. No one is going to hear us, no one is here to save us. I'm going to die here. I'm already dying here, and it's not even worth it anymore to live.

Hermione POV

I tap my foot on the floor, we've been out here for about half an hour now, and I'm getting sick of waiting here. "He'll be out in a minute or so, he usually is anyways," John says, trying to not look as equally annoyed as I am. I smile, but then pause my tapping, something's not right, something's off. I put my ear to the door to listen. Normally by now Sherlock probably would have said something but it's quiet, too quiet. I can't even hear him breathing in there. I knock on the door this time, but there's no indication of movement or even a reply of annoyance. I yell out his name and threaten to break down the door, still, nothing. Something's definitely off, something's definitely wrong now. John sees the look of panic written across my face and rushes to me.

"Hermione, what's wrong?"

"There's something wrong there, there's something wrong with Sherlock."

John grumbles and yells his name at the door, but when he doesn't reply his eyes widen quickly and I start to panic more. Sherlock may ignore me, but he's always answered to John no matter what. His face goes hard. "Hermione, stand back." He then rams full force on the door, easily breaking it down.

I run quickly to him, stopping only a moment to stare at him. He's lying in the centre of his room on the floor. His whole body is convulsing, and he keeps wincing, like a kicked puppy. A shiny gleam of sweat covers his forehead and his movements are barely visible. I check his temperature, he's skyrocketed and his pulse is erratic, going from 100 beats per minute to almost nothing at all. He doesn't talk or say anything, only muttering under his breath nonsensical words. He keeps reaching desperately in the air, but for what I don't know. I sit beside him, my heart beating in my throat, what's wrong with him?

"Sherlock! Sherlock!" I keep shaking him.

"No, you can't have her- save her, you can't-" He keeps muttering that to himself over and over and over until the words themselves are just a blur of sounds.

"Sherlock!" I yell and slap him across the face, hard. Suddenly all the shaking stops, his breathing returns to a more normal pace, and while the fever's still there, the moaning for the moment has disappeared. I take a look at him, he still is in terrible condition, his heart rate is lower than usual and he's so pale, paler than even his usual vampiric standards. When he opens his eyes they're clouded, but when he sees me he completely awakens. He opens his eyes completely and a look of innate fear crosses his face. He reaches out and grabs my arm, hard. I'd never seen him look that scared before, I'd never seen that look of fear in him. I stand stiff still, half out of shock from him grabbing me, but also out of fear because of the expression on his face.

"It is you," He breaks out into a weak grin. "You're alive, you're alive Hermione." I smile at him.

"I'm here," I say, he gives me a weak grin, and with that, he blacks out again.

Author's Note

Apologies for the extremely long hiatus! I have no real excuse except for the fact that life got a hold of me, and it was hard finding time to actually properly sit down and write this. Also, the story in itself I had to work and rewrite. I thank all though who still read this and waited for a new update. I hope you enjoy this as much as I do, and I hope this won't be the last installment for a while. Anyways, thank you again for whoever is reading this, and please review!