A/N: I'm back to working on this story. If you see anywhere that I completely messed up let me know.

The ceremony was... interesting. Mrs. Hudson preformed all the magic since Mr. and Mrs. Holmes's generation was skipped. John was forbidden to speak of it which didn't matter much to him; after all, who would he tell?

John learned that Mrs. Hudson was just using the ward she had John try was just a test. He left Mrs. Hudson's flat and loitered in the foyer. He didn't want to go upstairs quite yet. John's familiar, the magpie Tenebris, flew to his shoulder and John gave him an affectionate pet. "There are police at the door, they can't make it past the spells to knock but they'll be able to soon."

"Why are they here?" John asked. He felt stupid immediately afterwards because how would the bird know?

Tenebris rolled his eyes. "I can find out, if you'd like."

John brushed his finger along one of Tenebris's long wing feathers. He was torn, he didn't want Tenebris away from him where he could be injured but at the same time the bird would make an excellent spy.

Before John could make a decision his mobile rang. The caller ID read Greg so John answered. "Hello?"

"John! Listen, they're charging you with Molly's murder. I shouldn't be warning you but I thought you should know. Get yourself some representation. I'm working on my end, but they still have to bring you in."

"Thanks Greg." John managed before the other man had to ring off. Greg couldn't get caught warning a suspect. John hung his head; he'd left the murder weapon there with his fingerprints. His blood was everywhere. Sure, it was self-defence but John was pretty sure his scalpel work didn't qualify. And he had fled the scene and hadn't gone to the hospital. He scrolled though his phone, Mycroft would be able to tell him what to do.

Then it hit him: Mycroft was missing. "Fuck."

"Language." Mrs. Hudson warned from her doorway.

"Sorry." John sighed. "I've got a problem. Are Mr. and Mrs. Holmes still here?"

"Call me Mummy, dear." Mrs. Holmes said as she exited Mrs. Hudson's flat. It was clear she was just on the other side listening to everything.

They all went back into 221A to chat.

John explained his problem to them while pacing. He didn't know if there was some council that dealt with this magic business that he could appeal to.

There was, but the council consisted solely of Mycroft and Anthea. John also learned that there wasn't some super wizard prison either; they just took away magic user's (each group had their own preferred term) bonded item. Familiars were trickier but they had a process to keep them separated as well. Some magic could be cast without help but nothing serious enough to do any harm. Mostly it was self-defence spells.

John felt deeply guilty; he hadn't needed to kill Molly.

Mrs. Hudson brought him some tea and biscuits when he slid dejectedly into a chair. "Don't feel bad. There was no way for you to know," she said kindly.

That wasn't true. John knew about bonded items and familiars before. He just didn't apply the knowledge.

Tenebris nuzzled him but didn't say anything. The other magpie came and landed on John's unoccupied shoulder. John gave that one a pat too. The bird was Sherlock's familiar but the cat had run off when they performed the ceremony.

"I'll go find Sherlock, it's his turn now." Mr. Holmes said, possibly only to give John some space. John noticed that Mrs. Hudson and Mummy had wandered off.

"What's your name then?" John asked the other magpie.

The magpie shot him a dirty look and Tenebris cackled. "He can't say, he can only give his true name to his bonded."

"Oh," John said. Well, at least he knew the other magpie was a male too. "Is it some sort of secret?"

Tenebris tilted his head, "Sort of, a witch with malicious intent can use it to cause harm."

John frowned. He wasn't aware of that. He'd always felt weird sharing his middle name, and not just because it was horrible, so maybe it was some sort of subconscious defence mechanism. Deciding that made sense John decided to ask Tenebris something that had been bothering him, "How do you know so much anyway?"

Tenebris answered after a moment, "Because I was a magic user in a past life." He said this softly and it was clear to John there was a painful story there.

John wasn't going to pry if it wasn't welcome. He decided to ask another question, "Why is having a familiar such a big deal anyway? It has to happen fairly often."

The other magpie made a disgruntled sound and Tenebris avoided the question, "I'll explain when you're ready."

Just then Mr. Holmes came down with a sulking cat in his arms. "John?" He asked.

"Yeah?" John stood carefully to not upset the birds' balance. John wasn't a fan of their talons but he wasn't about to try to file them either.

"Can you get him to change into a human for the ceremony?"

It had occurred to John that Sherlock couldn't change at will and that was the reason he hadn't changed even though he knew John was in trouble. Sherlock hissed and John winced as he said, "He can't." Now that John was thinking about it Sherlock never changed. He was always a cat and it was only John who saw him as a human.

"Poppycock." Mummy came over to her feline son and put him on the table. "Now, Sherlock, stop being unreasonable. Change back this instant."

"Jawn!" Cat Sherlock pleaded.

The plea cinched it. Sherlock didn't beg. "I'm serious," John said. "He can't! Even if he could I wouldn't recommend it with his leg."

Sherlock managed the smuggest look John had ever seen and John wondered if being a cat made it easier.

Mummy gave a very put upon sigh.

Before an argument could break out Mrs. Hudson intervened. "John's right, dear. Sherlock hasn't bonded with his familiar so he probably can't do the spell to change himself back."

Tenebris tightened his grip on John's shoulder and John looked over. Was it his imagination or did Tenebris look sad?

"I think I can manage the ritual with John's help." Mrs. Hudson said.

"Me?" John squeaked, thoroughly distracted. "The last time I tried to do magic I burnt the door!" Even though he was bonded now he wasn't going to risk Sherlock's safety.

"Don't worry, dear. I'll take care of most everything. I just need you to hold a picture of Sherlock in your mind."

John nodded, he could do that.

Mrs. Hudson took out some chalk and removed the rug in the entry. She started drawing a circle and symbols often referencing a large tome. While she was getting candles John asked Mummy what he was supposed to do about the police.

"Sherlock probably has some ideas. And Mycroft will take care of everything once he's back." She was dismissive and John held hope that he wouldn't be locked away for the rest of his life. She then explained how John should picture Sherlock so as not to ruin his leg. "You're a doctor so instead of just picturing the cast just imagine him human then picture it healing itself. It'll be a cinch."

John was glad she had confidence in him but was still worried. It wasn't just Sherlock's leg; he had broken ribs, stitched up lacerations, burns and other injuries too.

Mrs. Hudson came back with candles, incense and what looked like a lock of Sherlock's hair. Before he could ask Mrs. Hudson said, "Sherlock's hair will help a bit."

John wondered how she got that hair and what she had of John's. After a moment he decided not to ask; he really didn't want to know. John busied himself cutting off Sherlock's cast and removing stitches.

Sherlock was carefully placed in the circle and he arranged his paws and tail so he wasn't touching any of the symbols. He flicked one of his ears in irritation when Mrs. Hudson lit the incense but didn't sneeze which is more than John managed.

"Ok, John. You ready?"

John grunted his assent. He could feel the magic before he could see it. Tenebris kept contact with John's neck so John could focus on picturing Sherlock. The other magpie settled himself on the banister and settled in for the show.

Mrs. Hudson began speaking a strange mix of English and languages John didn't know or understand.

The circle glowed and John cursed as he hurriedly focused on what Sherlock looked like. Curly hair that looked black in shadows but was actually a dark brown. It had a bit of red in it in the sun. Pale skin that showed how little time Sherlock spent in the sun. The almond eyes framed with dark lashes. Sherlock's thick slightly uneven eyebrows. Those cheekbones that took a slight rosy hue when he was embarrassed (which wasn't often). The cupid's bow lips that were almost never chapped and were usually a delicious shade of pink. The lower a little out of balance with the top. Sherlock's perfect nose and brow.

John moved down to Sherlock's long neck. His Adam's apple that helped produce the deep rumble that never failed to go do John's cock. The tendons, the muscles, the almost translucent skin, the freckles. John next pictured Sherlock's shoulders, narrow when they met but always had well defined trapezius muscles. Those muscles continued down his back. A narrow waist that John thought Sherlock could encircle with his hands when they first met but when John was taking care of Mary's wound he noticed it had filled out with defined muscles despite Sherlock's attempts to hide. There was the small smattering of hair on Sherlock's chest. Sherlock's pectorals, his nipples…

Tenebris nipped John's ear gently and John moved on to Sherlock's ribs, picturing them healed because he didn't know which were injured before moving onto Sherlock's arms, getting distracted again when he got down to large hands with long fingers. Violinist's fingers, able to do the most delicate procedures, strong enough to- Another nip by John's familiar and John moved on to Sherlock's hips. John received one last nip when he was distracted by Sherlock's plush arse.

John realized then that he had a gap in his knowledge. Even though Sherlock often wandered about the flat in naught but a sheet and they shared a shower John had never seen Sherlock's… equipment. He knew the approximate size of Sherlock's erection, his pajama pants left little to the imagination, but John hadn't ever been intimately acquainted.

John decided not to picture anything and hope that the spell would still work; and Sherlock wouldn't end up looking like a Ken doll. John moved down to Sherlock's long legs. Here he focused on fixing the break, picturing nerves, ligaments, muscles and bone knitting together in proper working order. John finally ended with Sherlock's large elegant feet.

John opened his eyes and saw cat-Sherlock take on a subtle glow. Sherlock's tail flicked and his ears twitched and John watched, entranced, before the light became too much and he had to look away.

Mrs. Hudson pointed her teapot with a flourish and a naked Sherlock stumbled out of the circle.

Well, John thought as he blushed and quickly looked away, looked like the spell worked despite the gaps in my knowledge.

"What the… JOHN!"

John looked up at Sherlock's exasperated cry and saw the problem.

Sherlock was giving John a death glare while two furry triangles covered in curly fur with shell pink insides twitched on his head.

But it wasn't until John looked down and saw the dark fluffy tail that he broke into giggles. Tenebris fled John's shaking shoulder with a squawk.

"It's not funny!" Sherlock shouted. "Mrs. Hudson, do something." The demand came out as more of a plea.

Mrs. Hudson was having trouble keeping a straight face and she had her mouth covered to hide her smile while she said, "I'm sorry dear, the spell is over. You've left the circle."

"Then do it again!"

"Sherlock, stop being difficult and go put some clothes on." Mummy interjected.

"Not until this-" Sherlock pointed to his tail "-and these-" he pointed to his head "-are gone!"

John understood why Sherlock was so upset but the situation was so ludicrous he couldn't stop laughing. He fell against the wall when it felt like his ribs were going to break. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he apologized between giggles, "S-sorry."

Sherlock's ears disappeared in his hair and he hissed.

John noticed that Sherlock's teeth were back to normal and for that he was grateful. Sherlock blinked and he looked like he was nearly crying. John sobered. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to." He said this to the ceiling because he was having trouble not staring at the vision before him. The bullet hole Mary had placed in him was gone. He looked younger too, like a mix of the best features from when they first met and when Sherlock fell the second time.

"Clothing, Sherlock." Mummy ordered and John moved without looking so Sherlock could climb the stairs.

He couldn't help but notice Sherlock's tail brushed John's chest as Sherlock passed. John resisted the urge to reach out and touch it.

...-...

Mrs. Hudson busied herself blowing out candles and cleaning up the circle John wallowed in guilt.

John decided he needed to apologize to Mummy too. He'd managed to mess up the ritual and Sherlock was upset. "I'm so sorry-"

"Don't worry," Mummy interrupted him and waved her hand dismissively, "Sherlock's always been easily disconcerted. He should just be happy that he's human again. Well, mostly. He was always a little catty." She seemed pleased with her joke.

John didn't laugh. He now realized what a big problem he'd created. Without surgery Sherlock would be teased mercilessly. John couldn't say that Sherlock was disfigured, John thought Sherlock was perfect. It wouldn't matter to John if Sherlock was stuck in his cat form forever. Although John was very glad he wasn't for… reasons. And he was having a very hard time not thinking about those reasons now that he'd started.

There was a loud thud over their heads. Mummy and Mrs. Hudson gave John a pointed look so he climbed the stairs.

He knocked on Sherlock's door and when there wasn't any response he entered. He was terrified that Sherlock had done something stupid like using or trying to cut the offending appendages off and the thud was him hitting the floor as he passed out.

John wasn't expecting to see Sherlock huddled in a ball on the bed naked except for his favorite socks. His face was buried under his arms and his tail was wrapped tightly around his middle. "Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock's right ear flicked but otherwise the man gave no indication he heard John.

"Sherlock?" John tried again. He knew how much Sherlock hated repetition and if he didn't say anything else Sherlock would eventually snap and tell John what was wrong.

"I don't hate repetition." Sherlock said without looking up.

"What?" John was fairly certain he hadn't said his thought out loud and Sherlock wasn't even looking at him.

"You think that if you just repeat my name I'll respond with what's bothering me. It won't work."

"Ok." John said, thoroughly confused. It had always worked in the past.

Sherlock didn't elaborate though and silence stretched between them.

John could out strubbron Sherlock on a good day but he felt words were needed here. "I am sorry. I think it happened when I opened my eyes. I hadn't pictured your ears, or a tail, obviously, and I saw them before the spell finished."

Sherlock didn't say anything.

So John continued, "I really didn't mean to. I'm sorry. Maybe we can find you an illusionist to fix them?" John knew that any magic user could theoretically use any spell but some were easier than others.

"Can't you just cut them off?"

John could, theoretically. But he thought in practice if he saw Sherlock bleeding under his knife he'd vomit.

Since John didn't answer Sherlock said, "Never mind," wrapped his arms tighter around his knees and lowered his ears into his hair.

This was the point that John would normally move their conversation into something safer, like what the problem was. John suspected the tail made it difficult for anything to fit and Sherlock was having trouble getting dressed. John knew what he'd be expected to do if Sherlock were one of his ex-girlfriends. He'd have to comfort her about her appearance because she'd be insecure.

Sherlock was no girl and John was extremely hesitant treating him like one of his girlfriends. After all, all of them except Mary had left. Well, John mused, technically Mary left too. John hadn't had any boyfriends and didn't have any experiences there to draw from. He knew how conscious James was about his scars though. John had never managed to tell him he didn't mind the marks. He didn't care about scars. He liked James for who he was not what he looked like.

James wouldn't listen if John had tried though. James always kept John at a distance.

And John always kept Sherlock at arm's length after Angelo's.

"I am sorry I messed up the spell but I don't mind the results." John said after swallowing heavily.

Sherlock lifted his head just enough for a silvery eye to inspect John. "Really?" One of Sherlock's ears poked halfway out of his hair.

"Yes. I think the ears are cute. Maybe now I'll have some clue as to what is going on in that head of yours."

Sherlock snorted but his posture relaxed.

"Did you look at yourself in a mirror?"

"No."

John walked over to Sherlock's dresser and tossed a pair of pants at his friend. "Put those on and come see." Without waiting to see if Sherlock would follow his instructions John moved to stand in front of the full-length mirror. He placed himself so that his back was to his lanky friend and he couldn't see Sherlock in the reflection.

Sherlock soon joined him, the waistband of his pants were rolled down several times to accommodate his tail.

"Oh." Sherlock gasped softly.

John worried that he'd failed, that Sherlock didn't like what he saw. He looked into Sherlock's eyes in the mirror in alarm.

Sherlock was busy running his hands over his body and didn't notice. "This is how you see me?" Sherlock asked quietly.

John looked over Sherlock critically. "Well, you came out a bit young but then again you are a bit young."

Sherlock chuckled and wrapped his arm around John's shoulders before moving back to his closet to pick out a shirt.

John watched his reflection blush and bush his hand over where Sherlock's hand had rested.

Oh.

End A/N: Tenebris means dark in Latin.