Chapter Thirty-Seven

"A snake, a snake… Adler couldn't have been more specific than that, could she?" Violet grumbled, pacing in the Watsons' lounge. "Most people I know are snakes."

"I'm guessing that's some magical… something," Mary said, trying to understand. They'd all gathered at Marylebone Road for Violet to share just what Adler had told her the day before, but no one knew what to make of it.

"Our House, Slytherin, has a snake for a mascot," Cissa explained. "So, telling Vi it's a snake after Harry is about as vague as it's possible to be, while still being in the realm of helpful."

Enlightenment flooded the two Muggles' faces. "So, each House has their own mascot?" John asked.

"Gryffindors are lions," Sirius replied. "Ravenclaws are eagles, and Hufflepuffs are badgers."

"You'd think Ravenclaws would be ravens," John shot back with a cheeky grin.

But Violet heard nothing of their banter. She continued to run her mental overview of every Slytherin she'd ever known, or even known about. She didn't get far, however, as a tiny blur careened into her legs, followed by giggles. "Auntie Vi, we're hungry," Harry laughed up at her.

"Well, I do suppose it is lunch time," Mary said, looking down at Rosie at her feet. "Should we feed this lot, Rosie Posie?"

Lunch was soon ordered, and the children scurried back to play. "I'm so glad the kids all get along," John sighed.

"It does make things a bit easier, yes," Cissa agreed with a smile.

"Harry needs them, so much," Violet added. "The children in his old neighborhood were all too… intimidated by Dudley to be friends with Harry, so he never had anyone to play with. In the odd moments he had free." Her jaw clenched as she thought about her horrid sister.

"But now he's safe, and incredibly happy," Remus reminded. "And so loved. He'll probably not even remember the Dursleys."

Just as the delivery driver rang the bell, Violet's mobile rang, as well. Sherlock's name flashed across the screen. Her heart lurched. If he was calling, that wasn't a good sign. "Sherlock, what-"

"It's Mycroft," her brother-in-law corrected. "My people found him. Violet, he's been drugged."

All the air in her lungs seemed to leave her at once, black spots dancing in front of her eyes. Cissa's arm around her shoulder jerked her back to the present. "What happened, Mycroft?"

"Get here, and I'll tell you."

After hanging up, Violet turned to Mary and John, who stood frozen by the table sorting the food. "Can you watch Harry? I've got to-"

"I'll go with you," John said instantly. "You'll be okay with both kids?" he asked his wife.

"We'll stay here until you've got this sorted," Cissa announced. "Go to Sherlock."

"Hope you enjoy your first time Apparating, John," Violet said, grabbing his arm. Tapping into the charm linking her wedding band with Sherlock's, she turned on her heel, dragging John with.

John stumbled, retching, after landing, but Violet simply strode over to where her husband lay in a hospital bed. "What happened, Mycroft?" she asked, taking Sherlock's hand in hers. She refused to cry, since he was safe. Clearly sedated, but safe. Instead, she focused all her energy in finding out what had happened. After all, that was the first step to finding who had done it, and that was her goal here.

Mycroft actually looked tired. "He was working on that case for Lestrade, the one with the-"

"The porcupine, yes. He solved it hours ago," Violet rebutted.

"Which is why I was home," John reminded, far paler than his usual, but otherwise steady.

"Yes, but that doesn't explain why he was still loitering around the scene of the crime, hours after solving the crime. That's where he was when he was drugged. Someone disguised as a crime scene cleaner brushed by him, injecting him with twice his normal dose of heroin. My people caught up with him, stumbling round about a block away from there. They brought him here immediately, and thankfully the healers are fully prepared for this type of emergency."

"Why don't you just call them doctors, mate? Healers just sounds pretentious," John said, covering his worry for Sherlock by indulging in Sherlock's favourite past-time: baiting Mycroft.

"Because that's what they are, John. We're in a magical hospital, and we call them healers," Violet explained, letting out a tiny smile at the situation.

John looked around the room with renewed interest. But the other two conscious ignored him. "So, what are we supposed to think, Mycroft? Was it a play to make us think that Sherlock had relapsed, and ridiculously overshot his dosage? Or were they just hoping to take him out, and that happened to be their disposal method?"

He was quiet for a moment. "It's far too early to dismiss any theory just yet. But, if it was supposed to make us think Sherlock had… fallen off the wagon, they clearly have studied him well. There was a note in his coat pocket."

"A suicide note?" Violet scoffed. "How pedestrian."

"A list, more like," John guessed. "Telling just what and how much he'd taken?"

"Sherlock promised me years ago that he would write such a note every time he partook of an illicit substance," Mycroft explained to Violet. "So, they knew that, and had some sample of his handwriting, as it was rather convincing. Though, we both know how easy that is to forge, with or without magic."

"Well, they may have known about the note, but they're forgetting one little thing," John said, rather smugly. "Sherlock promised Vi he wouldn't touch a drop. And he likes his happy little family how it is."

Violet smiled sharply. "Yes, I did tell him if he ever relapsed that he would never see Harry or me ever again. I think that's a rather compelling reason to stay away from the foul stuff."

"Yes, Sherlock hasn't used since that case shortly after your wedding, John. And I must admit to feeling rather hopeful that he'll really make it this time." Mycroft watched over his little brother, far more kindly than he'd ever let him see.

…

Sherlock was kept in a magical coma for three days to rid his body of the lingering effects of the drug. Violet brought Harry to see him every day, where the little boy proceeded to tell his Lock all about his day. Harry would explain, in somewhat excruciating detail, exactly what he'd done, and all that Auntie Vi and Mrs. Hudson had done, and Rosemud and Draco, and all the others who orbited Harry's world. But, on the fourth day, Sherlock was awake and waiting for them when they arrived.

"Lock!" Harry cried, diving from Vi's arms onto the bed. "Lock, I misseded you! So, so, so, so, so much!"

"I missed you, too, Harry," Sherlock replied, cuddling the boy closer and pressing a kiss to his head.

"You are never allowed to scare me like that ever again, William Sherlock Scott Holmes," Violet scolded, nearly collapsing onto the bed next to the patient. "I was so worried."

He kissed her for a long moment. "I'm so sorry, my darling. I'm not entirely sure what happened, but I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry. Just concentrate on getting better." Violet kissed him again, quickly this time, then busied herself in arranging the cards she's brought with her. "Mrs. Hudson sends her love, and said to tell you she'll make her onion and garlic soup when you get home. Cissa and Draco said they would come visit this afternoon, and Mycroft said he would bring the Watsons later, as well."

The elder Holmeses arrived soon after, fussing and clucking over their son, who endured it rather well, for Sherlock. But when Sherlock and Harry both started yawning, it was decided that Cecelia and William would take Harry home with them, letting Violet stay with Sherlock for the rest of the day. "After all, I think it's quite past time that you lot came for a visit, anyway," Cecelia announced. "You'll be staying with us for a few days once Sherlock's released tomorrow. It'll be perfect." She hugged Violet, pressed a kiss to Sherlock's cheek, and collected Harry before Sherlock could even form a protest.

"We'll see you tomorrow," William grinned, following his wife out the door.

"It looks like a Holmes trait to marry strong-willed women," Violet grinned at Sherlock. "Sleep, and I'll be here when you wake."

"I love you, my strong-willed wife," he told her, sleepy smile sliding off his face.

"I love you, my stubborn husband," she replied, kissing him softly.

…

That night, after calling Cecelia to give Harry his goodnight, Violet made herself a cup of tea at home. Earl Grey, a splash of milk, no sugar, just how she liked it. It should have been something more like chamomile, without any caffeine, but she needed the comfort of her favorite. It was difficult to see her usually strong husband relegated to a bed, even for only a few days. And even if he did protest it, loudly. It was only after several healers threatened to stun him, or use the Full-Body Bind, that he had finally agreed to behave.

Violet's tea was the perfect temperature, and she relished the warmth as she sipped it. She'd gotten used to having two other bodies often pressed against hers, and Harry in particular tended to run warm. Not feverish, just a little warmer than typical. John had assured her, repeatedly, that he was perfectly healthy and there was nothing to worry about. But, he'd always had a smile on his face, like he'd known exactly what she was feeling. Like it was a perfectly normal parent thing.

She enjoyed the quiet in the flat for a few moments. Between Harry and Sherlock, she wasn't used to there ever being a quiet moment, except when they were all asleep. But she settled against the window sill and watched the world outside for a while, watched all of those people going their own way, minding their own business, all stuck in their own worlds. Until it all went black.

AN: I totally forgot to post this last week. I'm so sorry! But at least it wasn't this chapter I left you hanging on for two weeks! I'll post the next one next Sunday. Thanks for all your lovely reviews. I read and adore every one, and I particularly love the ones speculating what's going to happen! Props to anyone who correctly guesses the identity of the "snake"! And don't worry, we'll find out who it is next week!