Author's Note: Happy Christmas Eve! I rushed through my edits of this so apologize if anything seems wonky. I should also mention most of this was written/dictated during NaNoWriMo so it's been hell editing it all. Also, thank you to the guest who let me know I made an error about Ron and Pansy. I went back and corrected the first chapter to say George and Angelina. Anyway, I hope you all have a lovely holiday! Tomorrow's chapter may go up late but I'll get it up! Thank you!

Feel free to follow me on twitter, tumblr, or locate my author group and/or page on Facebook. I go by xxDustNight88 everywhere! Updates to my works can always be found there!

Many thanks to GaeilgeRua for not only inspiring this story, but encouraging me to expand and allowing me to use her subscription to Grammarly to beta! This one is for you! Much love, xxDustNight

*NOTE* If while reading this you feel you've read it before, there is a very good chance of that. This story is the expanded version of a two-shot I wrote last year for the Holmes for the Holidays series. You can still find that piece on my profile; although it has been renamed Underneath the Christmas Lights. Please do not send me messages or leave comments telling me that this story is copied. It's not. It's mine. I just made it longer for your reading enjoyment! Thanks!

Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling, BBC, or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.

. . . .

24 December 2018

Harry had just removed his coat when Theo entered his office that morning. Typically, the Ministry would be closed for Christmas Eve, but with the case still wide open, the MLE and Auror departments were required to be there. Upon seeing Theo, Harry sighed and sank into his chair. It only took a single glance from his friend and colleague to know that something significant had occurred.

"This had better be good, Nott," Harry grumbled, combing a hand through his hair. "I'm missing breakfast, and homemade hot cocoa at Arthur and Molly's this morning. Christmas Eve tradition with all the kids..."

"Yes, and I'm missing out on copious amounts of sex with my husband before my family arrives for the holiday, but here we are," Theo countered, taking the open seat across from Harry.

"That is far too much information," Harry said as he blanched. "I haven't had enough coffee for all that."

Theo laughed heartily. He always enjoyed getting a rise out of Harry, especially when they had a severe case going. "Sorry, mate. Just having a laugh. Yeah, though, I do have some information to share with you."

"What's up?" Harry said, leaning forward and giving Theo his full attention.

"I followed that detective who owns the flat Hermione is staying at. Last night, actually," he began to explain, his face falling into a frown. "He's rather an odd fellow. Talks to himself and traipses all over London in the middle of the night."

"Should we be worried?" Harry asked, feeling his heartbeat increase with worry.

"I'm not sure. He nearly ran into me, but I think I played it off well enough." Theo smirked, thankful for his quick thinking the night before. "I do think he noticed when I apparated though."

"Why do you say that?" Harry worried about Theo being seen. He was often a bit excitable when it came to intermingling with the Muggles.

"He got a bit frantic. Ended up at some hospital and asked his friend for a drug test," Theo further explained. "It seems like that's a regular occurrence for him, but he came back clean."

Harry sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You really shouldn't be risking Hermione's safety by stalking this Holmes character. You know that, right?"

"I'm just thorough. I know I said he seemed fine, but his past is filtered with a lot of weird circumstances." Theo laughed and shook his head before listing off a few. "He faked his own death, killed a man, but that was covered up, and he works alongside Scotland Yard to solve cases for them."

"He killed a man? And faked his death?" Now Harry was really concerned. "Why the hell did you tell me he was okay. We need to rethink leaving Hermione there. And you said he was getting a drug test? Yeah, this is not good, Theo."

"He's brilliant, though, Harry," Theo said quietly. "Utterly brilliant. He has this website, The Science of Deduction, and some of the things he's written about… His experiments and research, it's amazing. I've never seen the likes of it before. He reminds me of Hermione, in a way."

"I'm lost," Harry muttered. "Why are you telling me all of this? Do you want to go and get Hermione or not?"

"I think we should leave her there, not because of the safety risk, but rather because I think she and Holmes could hit it off." Theo chuckled at the stunned look on Harry's face. "Don't look at me like that. We both know the witch needs a man in her life. Who says it has to be a wizard?"

"I just don't think now is the right time to be playing cupid, Theo. There's a madman on the loose, and you're worried about setting Hermione up with some random bloke she's staying with while she heals, minds you." Harry sat back and just shook his head. He loved Theo, but the wizard was clearly insane.

Theo waved Harry's comment away. "Nah, it's fine. Let the Christmas spirit work its magic. And maybe even New Years too if we can't close this case before then. Don't you think she deserves someone special?"

"I do," Harry rushed to say, not wanting Theo to think he didn't care about Hermione's happiness. "I'm just worried right now is bad timing."

"It's fine," Theo said with a shrug. "Look at you and Ginny. You came together after the Battle of Hogwarts, as did Blaise and I. War brings people together in mysterious ways."

Sighing in defeat, Harry decided to just go with Theo's crazy plan. "Fine, alright? We'll let Hermione stay with the madman, but I swear if there are any signs that he's linked to this thing, I'm going to murder you."

"Noted," Theo said with a smirk. "Now, shall we get back to work. I swear, Potter, you sit around and gossip too much." He sent the Auror a wink and then stood from the chair.

Harry just rolled his eyes, and he too stood and prepared to head out. They had a briefing meeting that morning before beginning to question some more of the witches and wizards who worked for the Ministry. "You're something else…"

"But I get shit done," Theo pointed out as they left the office together.

Damn it, Harry thought. He was right.

. . . .

Ginny sat at her mother's house, sipping hot cocoa and watching her children play with their cousins. It was always a festive affair, but there was definitely something missing this year, and it wasn't just Harry and Hermione. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she hated that even the children seemed to sense the uneasiness in the air. They were far more subdued than usual.

"Are you alright, darling?" Molly asked as she took a seat next to her daughter in the living room.

Ginny sighed and set aside her mug. "I'm fine, mum. Just worried, tired, and sad, I guess."

"That's perfectly understandable." Molly patted Ginny's knee. "Harry will figure this thing out and bring Hermione home safely. It can't last forever."

"I know, but that doesn't make it any easier. I really don't want another war." She swallowed hard and looked to the pictures on the wall. "We lost so many before…"

"Hush," Molly said softly, though there was an ache audible. "Don't go saying such things. No one is going to die."

"I hope you're right," Ginny said, watching as Lily rolled marbles across the hardwood floor and James nearly toppled over as he stepped on a few.

"You have to have faith, love. We all do." Molly smiled warmly at her only daughter and was glad when she smiled back. "You've never had a problem believing in Harry before. What's changed?"

"He's always had Hermione and Ron at his back. This time she's off injured and alone and Ron is stuck working in the joke shop." Ginny hated to admit all of this, but it was true. The Golden Trio never had a problem beating the inevitable, but they were broken apart by circumstance right now.

"That's silly," Molly said gently. "Harry has an entire team of Aurors and MLE agents working with him. They are all perfectly capable. Besides, you know Hermione. She's probably already figured out something is amiss and is working on it from her end of things."

"I really hope you're right, mum," Ginny replied as she retrieved her mug and took a sip. The cocoa was getting cold, but it was still delicious. She wished more than ever for her husband and dear friend to be there with her. "I hate this. So damn much."

Molly didn't bother correcting her daughter's language. She knew she was upset and didn't want to start an argument over something so little. Instead, she decided she should try and get her daughter more involved in the festivities. At the very least it would help take her mind off of things for a few hours. "Come now," she began, standing and holding out her hand. "Let's get the kids together and play a few games of Exploding Snap."

Ginny smiled, knowing what her mother was trying to do. Taking the offered hand, she stood and followed her mother to the games trunk. "Okay, mum. But can we had add a bit of alcohol to our hot cocoa when we make the next batch?"

Molly smirked. Ginny was most definitely her daughter. "Absolutely."

. . . .

Hermione sat in John's chair by the fire while she continued to knit. So far it had been an uneventful Christmas Eve, but it was only mid-afternoon. Mrs Hudson had stopped by for tea and breakfast that morning and Mary and also brought Rosie by around that time as well. Mary didn't have any family of her own aside from John and Sherlock. They spent the time talking about holiday traditions with Hermione. Now she was alone while Mrs Hudson was back downstairs cleaning and possibly even preparing to go to the market for a few last things she needed for tomorrow's holiday celebration.

Sherlock had been oddly absent the entire day. Hermione wasn't even sure how long he stayed up playing the violin last night. She knew that at one point she woke up in the middle of the night and could still hear the sad melody floating through the flat. Then music soothed her back to sleep her until she heard Mrs Hudson puttering around in the kitchen. A part of her had hoped Sherlock would be there when she awoke and she could possibly inquire as to why he left so abruptly the night before. She also was curious why he seemed so sad all of a sudden.

Recalling that Mrs Hudson had told her he sometimes grew gloomy at the holidays, Hermione tried not to overthink on it. However, her mind wouldn't let her think of anything else while she knitted the scarf she was currently working on. It was for Sherlock. She knew he had a fancy blue one he wore quite frequently when leaving the flat but she could tell it wasn't extremely warm. Hermione wanted to make sure that he would be comfortable on nights when he had to wander the city solving cases. She wondered if he would even like it because he seemed so adamant about not interacting with her more than absolutely necessary.

John was set to return to the flat that evening to check her over before having a quiet dinner and celebration with his wife and daughter. Tomorrow would be the day when everyone came over to exchange gifts and have supper together. Hermione knew it would be exhausting considering she was still recovering from her attack, so she was trying to rest up as much as possible today. She just had to finish up Sherlock's scarf and the pair of socks she'd started for Mrs Hudson and then she planned on taking a nap. She might even just lounge around either reading or possibly watching the small TV she found shoved underneath of the desk by the window.

It was quite obvious Sherlock did little else aside from working on his cases. He had plenty of books that she suspected he either skimmed to read and frequently. Most of his time must have been spent wondering London solving cases for Scotland Yard or other clients. John had explained all about the blog he wrote about the cases on, and she spent some time skimming over it. Reading most of it would have felt like an invasion of their privacy and really she wanted to learn about Sherlock from the man himself and not from John's descriptions on the computer screen.

Hermione knew what it was like for people to judge someone by their looks and actions alone. When she was a first-year everyone made fun of her, and she had been so alone until Harry and Ron had decided to save her from that troll. She hoped that there might be a circumstance where she and Sherlock had an opportunity to connect as well. Although, she hoped it wasn't defeating a troll or even capturing whoever was behind the attacks.

Speaking of the attacks, Hermione had managed to get her hands on a few copies of the most recent papers, and it appeared that she was not the only one attacked London. Multiple people were attacked all over the city and Hermione suspected that it was related to the Wizarding Community even though it was being printed about in the Muggle newspapers. She hadn't yet figured out what could be the issue, but she hoped to come up with a few ideas soon. She still felt so drained, and she knew that if she tried to get involved she would want to rush back to the Wizarding World before Harry said it was safe and she was healed enough to do so.

Besides, she still had no idea what happened to her purse or wand. Her wand should have been in the sleeve of her jacket because that is where it was when she passed out from the severity of her injuries. It made no sense that it was gone, but she couldn't just come right out and ask John. It wasn't a far walk from the alley to 221B so there was no reason that it could have slipped from the holder in the sleeve and drop to the ground outside. Someone must have taken it, but she had yet to figure out who might have done so.

For now, she was pretending to be a Muggle. Not a single word or phrase had slipped from her lips that could even indicate that she was from a different community, one in which had magic. She'd also managed to avoid too many questions about her occupation. When she was asked, she just gave a vague answer about local government and working alongside the authorities now and then. Honestly, she hoped that Sherlock didn't go looking into this because he would discover quickly that she had no affiliations with Scotland Yard or the local government.

If that was the case, then she expected he would have her either arrested or just throw her out into the streets to fend for herself at this point. John had managed to talk him down from making her leave earlier, but she had no idea for how much longer she would be welcome here despite what John or Mrs Hudson said. If she were found out to be lying, everyone would want her to go, and she couldn't blame them for that in the least.

She'd sent Harry a few more messages but hadn't heard back so she knew he really must be busy trying to sort out whatever was going on in the wizarding community. She hated it, but she had no access to information about her friends or what was happening. The only way she would get proper information would be if Harry actually called her instead of texting. Unfortunately, he had not called, and she didn't think he was going to do so either. It was probably too dangerous.

There was not much she could do so she figured it was best to continue making the best of the situation. She would enjoy the holiday as best as she could being apart from her friends and their families that she considered to be her own. Who knew, maybe everything would be sorted, and she could go home for the New Year. Until then, she would stay here in 221 B and do what she could to get better and learn more about Sherlock. A part of her knew that he was the real mystery of the situation.

There would be no returning to her former life without figuring him out first. He interested her more than she cared to admit to herself and she most certainly would never admit it aloud. She tried not to ask too many questions about the man for fear that people might suspect her of being there to spy on him or something of the like. In reality, she'd just been alone for far too long, and part of her found him attractive as well as extremely intelligent. She knew that was probably going to be her downfall when it came to him.

Maybe it was being stuck in the flat all day with no one else to look at, but she wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. She hated that he always disappeared or didn't seem to want to talk to her at all. It was more than a little bit frustrating. Hermione was not used to being ignored since taking a position of power within the ministry as head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Granted, romance had not been at the top of her priorities list in recent years, and she still wondered if it was even close to being on the list now. If it wasn't for being stuck here would she also be considering the possibility of liking someone at all?

Everyone else seemed to want to get to know her, so why not him? Hermione was constantly fielding intrusive questions from the others, and yet Sherlock refrained. Really would it kill him to just speak to her like he talked to the others? He talked to Mrs Hudson without issues, as well as John. Even he and Mary seemed to get along really well, and she could tell he doted on Rosie whenever possible. Was it that she was a stranger that held him back? She had a feeling he could sense that she was keeping something from him, but if he tried to get to know her, he would realise that whatever secret she held didn't affect who she was as a person. Honestly, being a witch was only part of who she was.

As she grew more and more furious sitting there thinking about Sherlock and how he almost blatantly ignored her nearly all of the time, the man in question quietly strode into the living room and began rifling through the mail on the desk. Hermione said nothing because she knew he was aware of her presence, so she decided to wait for him to say something first. However, the longer she sat there, the more she realised he was probably never going to do so, and so she decided to take matters into her own hands. Clearing her throat, she set aside her knitting needles and waited for him to give her his attention.

When he glanced her way, she smiled and said, "Hey, Sherlock. I'm sorry if I interrupted you last night when you came in. Oddly enough, I have been worried about you being out so late."

Sherlock turned his body, so he was fully facing her and slipped his hands into the pockets of his trousers as he contemplated what she said. Tipping his head slightly to the side, he seemed to be examining her more intently then he had as of yet. After a quiet moment of contemplation, he said, "I'm fine as I told you last night. I wonder the city quite often late at night when I'm working a case or when I just can't sleep."

"How often do you sleep?" Hermione inquired and then blushed "I'm sorry. If you don't mind me asking."

A smile crept onto Sherlock's face, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. He said, "I get perhaps three to four hours of sleep on a good night, but my mind is often too busy to allow sleep to come."

"Wow," Hermione exclaimed softly. "That sounds like me actually. When I get busy with work, or I'm overly stressed about something, I hardly ever sleep. It drives my friends mad."

Sherlock chuckled and then moved to sit in the leather chair across from her. "I know I haven't been around here very much while you have been staying here, but I have been working a critical case. Scotland Yard has asked for my assistance and Lestrade gets a little antsy when it takes me longer than normal to figure out an answer."

"I know what that's like too. I wonder," Hermione paused and bit her lip as she thought. She knew she was about to give more away than she ought to, but she really wanted to open up slightly and see if Sherlock would do the same. So, taking a deep breath, she figured what the hell. "Has Mary mentioned that I work and law enforcement?"

Sherlock nodded and said, "She did mention it to John who mentioned it to me. I am curious about what exactly you do, but I understand if you do not wish to tell me."

Hermione shrugged. "Honestly, I can't really tell you too much aside from what I have just now. I can relate to what you do, but my job is pretty much a secret. I'm sure you can understand."

"I understand completely," Sherlock said, although there was a frown etched in all the lines around his eyes and on his forehead. "My brother works for the government. I am not ever entirely sure what he is up to. He has his fingers in so many different areas."

"That's understandable," Hermione said and then picked at the scarf that was in her lap. "You know, I really do want to thank you for letting me stay here. Normally, Christmas Eve is spent at my best friend's family's home, so I'm thankful to not feel alone in some stark old hospital room."

Sherlock stood and brushed out the wrinkles in his trousers. "That was John thoughts as well when he insisted that you should be allowed to stay for Christmas. Do you believe you will be able to return to your own home within the next few days? Are you feeling up to it?"

"To be honest, I don't know," she admitted, looking him in the eye. "My body is still aching, and movement is rather difficult. I'm afraid of what could happen if I tried walking downstairs." Pausing, Hermione took a deep breath and then added, "Although, if you would like, I could try my hardest to leave the day after Christmas?"

"No," Sherlock said, waving away her question. He started to head towards the kitchen. "You may stay for as long as you need. I meant what I said before. Take your time and heal."

Hermione bit back a laugh as Sherlock prepare to sit at the kitchen table and fiddle with his microscope. "Are you saying that sincerely or because you know John will have your head if you try and force me out?" When Sherlock's head whipped around to stare at her, she gave him a wide grin.

"Clearly, you have been paying more attention to the interactions between John and I than I gave you credit for," Sherlock said slowly and looking at her slightly different than he had before. "Go on back to your knitting. I won't bother you any longer. I need to analyse these samples from a crime scene."

"A crime scene?" Hermione asked. "Which one? I've seen a lot of crime scenes popping up in the papers that I found over on the coffee table yesterday morning."

"This one is a little closer to home," Sherlock told her, focusing on the microscope in front of him. "You can continue talking, but I probably won't hear you any longer," he told her as he placed his face against the eyepiece and began to fiddle with the knobs.

Hermione rolled her eyes but managed to resettle in the chair so that her chest didn't ache so horribly after having been twisted around to stare at Sherlock. "Okay, fine. Sorry for interrupting the thought process. You won't even know I'm here unless, of course, the clicking of these needles bothers you." She smiled when Sherlock nodded, apparently paying attention to her.

As she resumed her knitting, Hermione felt slightly better about being there with Sherlock. The conversation was brief, and not much had been revealed, but he was not rushing to get away from her this time. That was progress. Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be so awkward after all, and he would be able to stand her presence longer. Who knew perhaps they could even become friends before she left, but she wasn't going to hold her breath.

. . . .

Harry was exhausted by the time he made it home that night. Ginny was upstairs making sure the kids were bathed and getting ready for bed. She'd left him downstairs to eat the plate of leftovers her mother had sent home for him while she got the kids ready for bed. Afterwards, he was going to go upstairs and read a book with the kids and then he and Ginny would put the presents under the tree and curl up together in front of the fire before bed. He may have missed the traditional Christmas Eve festivities from during the day, but at least he would have this.

He'd just finished his meal and was washing up the dishes when there was a knock at the front door. Frowning, Harry dried his hands on a tea towel and headed for the door. Suspecting it to be Ron or one of the other Weasley's, Harry was wholly unprepared to find Theo standing on the other side when it was swung open. He looked utterly miserable which was precisely how Harry now felt.

"Damn it," Harry muttered, feeling all the festivity woosh right out of him as he exhaled. "This can't be good."

"I really hate to interrupt your evening, Potter," Theo said with a frown. He shuffled from one foot to the other in the doorway of the Potter's house before heaving a sigh and meeting his friend's eyes again. "There's been a breakthrough in the case."

"What?" Harry sputtered, opening the door slightly wider. "I just left the bloody office. What could have happened since then?"

"Dennis Creevey. His body was discovered shortly after seven this evening by the Muggle authorities," Theo explained, his voice solemn. "You know I hate to do this but-"

"You need me to come back to the Ministry," Harry said and then removed his glasses. He roughly rubbed at his face with one hand. "I knew this early night was too good to be true. Ginny is going to lose her mind."

"I'm really sorry, mate," Theo muttered sounding completely horrid over having to ruin Harry's holiday. "What can we do though? Someone's been murdered, and now we have to up the investigation. Kingsley is beside himself furious. He's already in a meeting with the Muggle Prime Minister so we can have clearance at the crime scene."

"Shit," Harry said, gesturing for Theo to come inside. He closed the door behind his friend and then added, "This really is serious."

"It's a bloody nightmare, that's what it is." Theo sat down on the edge of the sofa while Harry took the chair. "Killings for Christmas. How lovely."

"I'm at a loss, Nott." Harry spread his hands wide. "We have no leads, and all of our interviews have come up with nothing as well. What does Kingsley think we can do now?"

"No idea," Theo said honestly. "I guess we can only hope the killer made a mistake at the crime scene."

"I guess you're right," Harry said before leaning forward and placing his face in his hands.

His glasses were still off and he just really didn't have the energy to deal with reality right now. Hermione was still out there, and now one of their old classmates was dead. They had no leads and tomorrow was Christmas. The Creevy family was going to have to deal with that. Someone was going to have to speak to the press before things got out of line. More chaos is what this was going to cause. As he was strewing over all of this, he heard Ginny coming down the stairs. Sighing heavily, he sat up and returned his glasses to his face just in time to see the disappointed look she was now wearing.

"Please tell me this is not happening," she said slowly, clearly upset by Theo being there so late in the evening. She glanced between the sullen faces of Harry and Theo and then walked right to the liquor cabinet, pulled out a bottle of Ogden's Finest, and promptly opened it to take a swig. She didn't even flinch at the burn in her throat. Dropping onto the other side of the sofa, she took another sip and then glared at Theo. "What happened?"

"Dennis Creevey was murdered," he said without preamble.

"Fuck," Ginny replied, making Theo chuckle and her husband sigh heavily. "There goes Christmas. For everyone."

"I have to go and investigate the murder scene," Harry told Ginny, wishing he could join her as she continued to drink straight from the bottle of whiskey. "I may not be home in time for Christmas morning…"

"The kids are going to be so disappointed," Ginny mumbled. Setting aside the bottle she shrugged. "There's nothing to do about it though. There's a madman out there, and you need to catch him. Maybe we can postpone everything until this case is solved."

"It's alright, Gin," Harry said, standing and going over to kneel in front of his wife. "Don't do that. Let the kids open their presents and stockings. Take them to Ron and Pansy's like planned I'll join you when and if I can."

"I promise to get him back to you and the family as quickly as possible," Theo said, breaking his silence and feeling horrible for having to tear the family apart for the holidays.

"But it won't be the same without you here…" There were tears in her eyes, and she hated that. She was upset though. Mostly she was mad at whoever felt it was necessary to kill innocent people. They'd had enough of this twenty years ago. This was just dredging up old feelings.

Taking her hands into his own, he stared into her eyes and said, "I know this isn't ideal, but I have to do it. I always wanted to be an Auror, and this comes with the job. When I get home, whenever that may be, we'll celebrate properly. Hopefully, by then, Hermione will be with us too. Alright?"

Ginny was openly crying now, quiet tears running down her cheeks as she listened to her husband. He was right, of course. He was meant to do this job. Protecting others was in his blood. She nodded and leaned forward so she could press their foreheads together. "I love you, Harry Potter. You do your job and protect all of us."

"I will," he promised in a whisper. Squeezing her hands once, he let go and pushed to his feet. Turning, he realised that Theo had slipped out of the room to give them some privacy. "Look, Gin," he started, "This could take a while. Please, let the kids know how sorry I am."

"I will," she told Harry, standing as well. "Be careful, will ya?"

"Definitely," Harry assured her. "If you can, try and sway your coworkers at the Prophet not to drag us too far through the dragon dung."

"I make no promises because typically they're a bunch of twats, but I'll try." Sighing, Ginny ran a hand through her hair as she regarded her husband. This was set to be the worst Christmas since the war. "I still can't believe all of this is happening."

"Me either," Harry said, shrugging into his jacket. He tucked his wand into the sleeve. "I'm trying not to think about what could happen if this escalates to mass killings… We're not prepared for that."

"I know." Ginny walked Harry to the front door where Theo was standing. He was texting, presumably Blaise. "You be careful too," she told him.

"I'll do my best," he said, tucking the mobile away and then opening the door. "Are we ready?"

"As I'll ever be," Harry replied and then turned once more toward Ginny. "I love you. Be safe tomorrow." He kissed her, not even caring that Theo was standing there smirking the entire time. He was about to head out into danger, and he wanted Ginny to know precisely how he felt about her before doing so.

Theo cleared his throat to regain their attention, earning him a not so decent finger from Ginny in reply. He smiled and stepped outside, to give them one more moment alone. It wasn't long before he heard the quiet mutterings of final goodbyes and then Harry joined him, shutting the door behind him. He waited for Harry to fasten his jacket and then they began to walk toward the apparation point.

"We're going to figure this thing out," he told Harry, shooting him a glance over his shoulder.

"I know," Harry replied. "I just wish it hadn't come to this."

"Me too, mate. Me too."

. . . .

221B was silent as midnight crept ever closer. Sherlock stood alone by the front window, watching as a stray cab drove by every once in a while. He ought to head upstairs to John's old room and sleep for a few hours, but something was amiss. He could feel it in his bones. The city seemed far too quiet, and there was an uneasy current as if everyone was just waiting for the second shoe to drop. Idly, Sherlock wondered if he had fallen asleep and this was all a dream.

It was preposterous, of course, considering the amount of caffeinated tea he'd consumed throughout the evening. Nevertheless, the thought had crossed his mind. There was something amiss though, and he knew he would find out shortly if only he could wait that long. Something was keeping him from straying outward into the city. Hermione. He knew it had to be her sleeping form in the other room that was keeping him bound here.

For some odd reason, Sherlock felt like he needed to remain at the flat to keep her safe. If he ventured into London then surely something horrifying would happen to her. This afternoon and evening had been different with her, and he had been left feeling slightly hopeful in regards to the strange woman. It was just the night before where he'd thought he was losing his mind and now he felt more comfortable with her being here. In fact, he would prefer she stay until whoever was causing the disturbance in the city was captured.

Narrowing his eyes, it was then that Sherlock noticed an approaching vehicle outside. His frown increased upon realising it was Lestrade. No sooner had the car pulled up to the curb than his mobile began to ring. Sherlock answered it before it could go to a second.

"What happened?" he inquired, staring down at the parked car.

"There's been a murder, and we suspect it's tied to all the other attacks," Lestrade explained over the phone. "Will you come?"

Glancing back at his closed bedroom door, Sherlock felt something in his chest tighten with worry. "I need to speak with Mrs Hudson first, but yes. I'll follow you. Text me the address."

He didn't wait for a response before hanging up the phone and striding across the room. Quickly, he donned his jacket and scarf before hurrying down the stairs. Two sharp knocks on Mrs Hudson door was sufficient to bring her forth.

"Sherlock?" she inquired sleepily, pulling her robe closed around her nightdress. "It's nearly midnight. What's wrong?"

"There's been a murder in the case, Mrs Hudson. I must go, and I do not want Hermione left alone upstairs," he explained, reaching out and taking her hand. He tugged her forward and then gently shoved her toward the stairs. "Please sleep upstairs until I return."

"Well," she said, clearly upset by this turn of events. "I suppose I can do that…"

"Good. You know where I keep the weapons." Turning he was fully prepared to leave when Mrs Hudson's next words stopped him in his tracks.

"You're worried about what might happen to Hermione."

Sherlock's eyes fell closed as his hand wrapped around the door handle. Clenching his jaw, he tried to think of an appropriate response. They may have been true, her words, but the work was far more important right now. Without turning around, he merely said, "I'll be home when I can. Make sure you keep her safe."

Then he opened the door and walked out into the cold night air. He would text John in the morning. Until then, he would try and solve this case on his own. There was no reason to wake John and Mary. It would only worry them to death. Somewhere in the distance, a clock chimed the hour. It was Christmas.