Author's Note: I hope everyone had a lovely Christmas, if you celebrate. I do apologize for this being a day late but I had the migraine from hell yesterday. I'm going to try and get today's chapter out tonight as well, but it might not happen. Tomorrow I will be travelling so there may not be an update until Friday. Just bear with me. I have the story mostly finished and will do my best to get it to you as I had intended. Anyway, thank you for reading along! Enjoy!
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.
. . . .
25 December 2018
Hermione woke up to a message from Harry that was far from encouraging. Sighing, she pushed to sit against the pillows and headboard so she could reread what he sent. A quick glance at the clock on the nightstand showed that it was just after nine in the morning so she'd slept for a fair amount last night. She felt better for it but knowing she was not with her friends for Christmas was entirely disappointing.
Hermione, I just wanted to let you know things have taken a bit of a turn here. Please stay safe, and we'll come for you as soon as we can. We miss and love you dearly. It's certainly not the same without you. Happy Christmas!
Yes, she thought, that was definitely not the text she'd hoped to wake up to this morning. Closing her eyes, she really just wanted to go back to sleep and hope to wake up and find this entire ordeal to be a nightmare. That was absurd, of course, but it couldn't hurt to dream every now and then. Shaking off the remainder of her sleepiness, Hermione decided to throw back the covers and get the day started. Somehow she'd managed to get everyone's knitted gifts finished and wrapped last night despite Sherlock's curious stares from where he sat in the kitchen.
It was hard having somebody so close but feel like they were so far away. Hermione hadn't been bothered by his presence which she found comfort in, and she suspected that he was enjoying her company as well. Going to the dresser, she opened the top drawer and pulled out a few clothing items that Mary had given her to wear while she was staying there. She had been kind enough to bring them over a couple days ago after John had told his wife that she had nothing but the clothes on her back when she arrived. John had also insisted that Sherlock give her a single drawer in his dresser, so the detective had cleared out his fancy socks to make room for her things.
Sherlock grumbled a bit about the entire thing, but when John assured him it was temporary, Sherlock had obliged and given into the request. It was one more thing on the ever-growing list of things Hermione would have to thank them for when it came time to leave. Now it seemed as though she was bound to stay longer than any of them initially thought. She would forever be grateful for everything that they had done for her in her time of need. Hopefully, the gifts that she made would show just a fraction of that gratefulness.
After getting dressed carefully because her injuries were still somewhat fresh, Hermione gathered her presents and carried them out into the main room. There was a tray of fresh tea and biscuits on the coffee table but no sign of Mrs Hudson. Hermione suspected that she had dropped off the plate when she heard Hermione moving around and then disappeared back downstairs to finish preparing for the day herself. Smiling at her thoughtfulness, Hermione carried the presents over to the tree she'd helped Mrs Hudson finish decorating and placed them underneath. It definitely hurt her ribs to bend over but she would endure.
Deciding she should probably take her pain medicine and eat something, she headed over to the tray and made herself a cup of tea to wash down the medicine tablets. After doing just that, she helped herself to a few biscuits and relaxed on the sofa as she waited for Mrs Hudson to return upstairs. She recalled her saying something about a light breakfast the day before, so that was probably where she had gone. Idly, Hermione pulled the mobile out of her pocket to see if there were any other messages from Harry or even John or Mary. She was actually surprised to find another name listed on the screen as having sent a message through.
Sherlock.
Not quite knowing what to expect, Hermione swiped the phone to life and quickly read through what he had sent. She smiled and then reread the message...
Hermione, I may not make it for Christmas supper. Your gift is in the kitchen. Regards.
Grinning stupidly, Hermione set the mobile on the sofa and pushed to her feet, completely ignoring the pain that shot through her chest at the sudden movement. She shuffled towards the kitchen and looked around in search what Sherlock would consider a gift because she knew it wouldn't be wrapped in the traditional sense. Sure enough, she found a small package sitting in the middle of the table. It was covered in simple paper with a red ribbon but no bow. She had no idea what it could be until she reached out and took it in hand.
Hermione contemplated waiting to open it with everyone else, but for some reason, she felt like this needed to be done in private. Taking the gift with her, she retreated to the back bedroom and shut the door before sitting on the bed and staring down at the package once more. Flipping it over, she's used her fingernail to break through the ribbon and then unwrapped the paper to find a curious thing indeed. It was a wooden box, apparently made for keeping small trinkets. It was about twelve inches long and made from beautiful wood that she suspected was mahogany. There was carving around the rim of the lid that reminded her strangely of her wand.
Hermione opened the lid and looked inside. It was empty, but she could store many things like jewellery or even her wand if she so chooses. She wondered why Sherlock felt she needed such a thing, but she cherished the gift anyway. It was a beautiful box, and she would undoubtedly find a use for it when she was back home in her own flat. For now, she would use it to keep her medicine and other oddities that she collected in the few days she had been staying at 221B Baker Street. Tracing over the pattern with her fingers after she closed the lid once more, Hermione wondered even further why Sherlock would want to get her a gift. She would need to thank him later when he finally arrived home.
Setting the box gently on the nightstand, she, in fact, put a few things inside of it like her medicine and some chapstick before returning to the front room. She was surprised to find that Mrs Hudson had returned and was currently setting up breakfast at the kitchen table which had been cleaned off of Sherlock things at some point. The landlady gave Hermione a sweet smile and gestured for her to sit. Hermione supposed Mrs Hudson had probably seen the gift and knew precisely what she had been up to before coming back into the kitchen. Nevertheless, she tried to fight the blush she knew was probably creeping on her cheeks and settled into the chair she usually sat when they had meals together.
"Happy Christmas, Mrs Hudson, she said. Mrs Hudson leaned over to give her a hug. "The tea was lovely, but this breakfast looks amazing."
"Happy Christmas, Hermione dear." Mrs Hudson released her from the embrace and sat down at one of the other chairs. "I know this is not what you're used to, but I hope that I can ease the pain of being apart from your friends on this special day."
"Already, this day has been grander than I expected it to be and I thank you for that," Hermione said honestly, struggling to keep the emotion from overtaking her. Her eyes felt damp, and she knew that at some point today she was bound to cry over one thing or another.
"Now, dear, no tears. It's Christmas after all," Mrs Hudson said, handing her some toast. "Tuck-in and eat up because Mary, John, and Rosie should be here a little, and you'll probably want to take a short nap after eating all of this."
"You're probably right," Hermione admitted. Combined with her medicine, larger meals always did make her rather sleepy these days. She suspected it probably had something to do with the attack and all the healing she still had to do. "Have you seen Sherlock this morning," she questioned as she took a piece of sausage onto her fork.
Mrs Hudson smiled. "I saw him late last night and then again early this morning, but I suspect he won't be here until supper time," Mrs Hudson explained.
"I didn't hear him leave either time," Hermione admitted. "I was hoping to give him his gift today, but I can wait."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled to receive a gift from you no matter when it may happen," Mrs Hudson said slyly, winking at Hermione, so she did so.
"I heard from Harry this morning," Hermione continued as they ate. "He seems to think it wise for me to stay here even though they miss me dearly."
"I can't imagine what it's like to be away from your friends. I'm so sorry," Mrs Hudson said, reaching out to pat her on the hand.
"It is hard," Hermione said. "However, I'm very thankful for you and everyone else for including me."
"We don't mind, dear. It's fun having someone new around to celebrate with." Mrs Hudson went back to eating, but she continued to talk about all the lovely things they would do later that day once everyone arrived.
Hermione sat there quietly eating her breakfast and occasionally nodding her head to acknowledge something that was said. She kept thinking back to the wooden box Sherlock had purchased for her and what it could mean. For all she knew, he might have just randomly picked it up at the shop, knowing he had better get her something since he knew she was making him something in return. Whatever the reason, Hermione was determined to ask him as soon as she got the chance later that night or whenever he arrived home that day.
. . . .
"Look," Ron said, trying to keep his voice low so that his parents and the children in the other room did not hear. "I get that there is a murderer on the loose, but how is keeping Hermione away for the best?"
"I don't like it either," Ginny replied, sighing. She continued to arrange biscuits on a tray to set out with the hot cocoa and tea the family was waiting for in the other room. "I really don't like that my husband is being forced to work on Christmas, but it is what it is, Ron. There's someone out there targeting, and we have to be careful."
Ron plopped down into one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "I hate this. I sort of wish I still worked at the Ministry so I could be out there helping."
"Well," Ginny said after placing the last biscuit on the tray before joining her brother at the table. "If things keep up, they'll probably start asking for volunteers. You can help out then."
"This is such a mess," Ron muttered, eyes full of sadness. "I miss Hermione and Harry."
"Me too," Ginny agreed. "I know some people have it way worse than we do, but I feel like it's not even Christmas, you know?"
"Exactly." Ron went to reach for a biscuit and Ginny didn't even bother to swat his hand away. He knew she must be feeling rather upset seeing as she'd decorated the tray so beautifully. After eating the biscuit, he tried to gather his thoughts.
Ginny frowned, sensing that Ron was keeping something from her. "What's wrong?" she asked.
"Pansy is pregnant again," he told his sister. "We were going to tell everyone today, but now we feel like it's not the right time."
Despite the situation, Ginny broke into a broad grin. "Ron, that's fantastic news. The best I've heard in days. Honestly, you should still share. It will definitely brighten everyone's spirits."
"You think so?" Ron asked sceptically. He really didn't want to try and cover up what was happening in the Wizarding world, but after their first child, he and Pansy had such a hard time getting pregnant again. This was a surprise for both of them and a miracle if he was honest. He wanted to scream it from the top of the Quidditch stadium.
"Absolutely," Ginny gushed, unable to hide her joy. "The kids are all going to be thrilled! Mum and dad are too. Do you think Finn is going to be excited to be a big brother?"
"I'm not sure," Ron admitted. "He's going to be heading off to Hogwarts next year. He might feel a bit left out with there being a new baby at home while he's away."
"As long as you send him lots of care packages and letters, he'll be fine," Ginny advised. "James was always a little weary about being forgotten when he went away, and Albus and Lily were still at home. It'll be fine. I promise."
"Yeah," Ron said with a wry grin. "You're right. I am rather excited. We think it's going to be a girl."
"That's lovely. I'm really happy for you." She reached out and placed her hand overtop his and smiled. "Go and talk with Pansy. You two definitely need to share this news. Even though I still miss Hermione like crazy and I desperately wish Harry was here, I feel slightly uplifted. Good news always brightens the darkest of times."
Standing from the table, Ron decided his sister was right. He pulled her up and enveloped her in his arms. "I love you, Gin. I swear you're the best sister."
"I'm you're only sister… Well, if you don't counter Hermione," Ginny teased. Untangling herself from the embrace, she nudged Ron toward the living room. "Now go and find Pansy so you can share your good news. I'll bring the cookies in and distract everyone while you two sneak away to discuss it."
Instead of replying, Ron snagged another cookie and ducked from the room before Ginny could smack him for doing so. Ginny just shook her head instead. Today was definitely not the Christmas she'd planned, but it would be alright. Harry would be home at some point and hopefully with answers. It would be okay. Everything would be alright in the end… She hoped.
. . . .
Standing in the rain, Sherlock and glowered at having been told to step away from the crime scene. He'd had unimpeded access for most of the night but then the other task force had arrived, and he'd been shoved aside. There were two off men in charge of the force, one of which Sherlock swore looked familiar. He couldn't place the man, though, so he just continued to glare at him from time to time. If he was going to help Lestrade solve this murder case, then he was going to need access before the rain washed all the evidence away.
"Sherlock," John muttered from beside him. "When can we leave? It's freezing, for one, and two…It's bloody Christmas." Pulling his coat tighter around him, John gave him a pleading stare.
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock bit back his first retort. Honestly, he'd forgotten all about the holiday and what it might mean for John to be at home with Mary and Rosie right now. In fact, Sherlock paused to glance at his pocket watch… It was well after the time in which Mrs Hudson demanded he show his face in the living room. Apparently, there was to be some sort of festive party that he was required to attend. They hardly ever had this sort of affair but since they had a guest…
Speaking of which, he'd left a gift for Hermione not really knowing what she may need. He did it at Mrs Hudson's suggestion since the woman was knitting herself into a frenzy making them all gifts. He knew she was preparing a scarf for him, but he'd never really purchased a gift for someone. In the end, he'd found a wooden trinket box that somewhat matched the off markings on the stick he'd procured from her jacket. Perhaps she could keep it in there if he ever returned it to her. That decision was very much still up for debate. She may have opened up to him a bit more, but he still had no idea who she was or where she came from. Everything seemed so strange in regards to that situation.
"Sherlock?" John questioned again, pulling him from his thoughts.
Clearing his throat, Sherlock nodded. "Yes, Fine. You may go ahead, John. I'll join you later."
"Come on, Sherlock," John practically whined. "You've been here all night. Come home with me. It's Christmas."
"I know what day it is," Sherlock drawled, pulling his eyes away from the crime scene to stare at his friend. "However, there is a case to be solved and you know I will not rest until I see the suspect brought to justice."
"I know," John replied, sliding his hands into the pockets of his jacket. "I just thought you might want to come and spend some time with Hermione and us too. She's probably feeling pretty down today."
"I left her present in the flat. She has probably already opened it." Sherlock nearly missed John's wide-eyed response as he turned back to the crime scene. Nearly. Sighing heavily, he said, "I am well aware you are insinuating that I have some sort of feelings for the girl. I would like to remind you that she is simply a woman in need of a place to stay while she heels. I bought her a present because she knitted me a scarf. You'll love the socks she made for you. Exactly what you could use right now with those old shoes of yours."
John decided not to say anything about Sherlock's budding interest in Hermione. He'd noticed a change since the night the detective helped her from the bath. Since then, the two could hardly keep their eyes off of one another whenever they were in the same room. Even Mrs Hudson noticed a difference in the pair. It was only a matter of time before something transpired between them.
Deciding there was no point in arguing with Sherlock any longer John, removed one hand from his pocket and reach out to squeeze the detective's shoulder. "Okay, but please promise you won't stay out here in the cold all day and night. It is Christmas after all. You should come home and be with people that care about you and not corpses and crime scenes."
Glancing at his shoulder where John touched him, Sherlock thought about what he been told. It was Christmas, and he was cold, but there was a case to solve. Backing away from his friend, he started to ease his way back into the crime scene. "I'll be home when I can," he told John. "This case is important and must be solved." Without another word, Sherlock headed back towards the crime scene Lestrade had banished him from earlier.
John watched him go. He desperately wished that Sherlock had someone that he would want to spend time with on such a cherished holiday. John was ready for a hot cup of tea and to spend time with Mary and Rosie, as well as Mrs Hudson, Molly, and even Hermione. With one final glance at his friend, John turned and headed back out to the main street where he could catch a cab to Baker Street. There is no use arguing with Sherlock He would do what he wanted just as he has always done.
. . . .
In the midst of the crime scene, Theo turned to Harry and pointed across the street. "You see that man over there in the long jacket with the floppy hair?"
"Yeah," said Harry, scribbling something on his notepad with a quill. "What about him." He continued writing down some notes about the crime scene, hating that his former classmate was currently underneath a sheet at his feet.
"That's Sherlock Holmes," Theo stated simply, enjoying the way Harry's head snapped up to pay attention now. Smirking, he added, "I have a feeling he recognises me from the other night, but he doesn't quite remember well enough."
Harry rolled his eyes and returned to his task. "You really ought to not get involved and Muggle affairs," he muttered, hoping that none of the officers from Scotland Yard would overhear phrase 'Muggle affairs'. "It's bad enough we have to leave Hermione with him let alone messing with his mind, Theo."
Waving away Harry's comment, Theo bent over to further examine the body as well. He said, "it's just a bit of fun. No harm. Beside,s we both know now that we have something substantial to work with, we'll catch the killer quickly."
"There's no guarantee of that," Harry said, flipping his notebook shut and tucking it back inside his robes. He glanced towards Sherlock Holmes, who was conversing with a shorter, greying man. He had no idea who that one was, but he suspected that it was Doctor John Watson who was known to associate with Holmes. "Like I told you earlier unless he made a mistake, we could be looking at a much longer time scheme on this case than we originally thought. Plus, who's to say he doesn't kill again?"
For a long while, Theo didn't say anything at all. He just continued doing his job. Harry let him work while continuing to watch Holmes and Watson from across the street. He'd had them ordered away so that they could use minimal magic to examine the road. Luckily, they discovered that Creevy had been murdered by magic and then strangled to make it look like a Muggle had done the killing. Whoever they were dealing with was smart, but they had ways of detection now, but they didn't have back during the former War. Hopefully, they could figure this one out before anyone else died, but one can ever be sure.
Finally finished with this task, Theo brushed his palms together to remove any dust. "Look, Potter, we're doing what we can with what we know, and we'll figure things out. I think that maybe we should take what we have managed to gather and head back to the Ministry so we can report into Kingsley." Shrugging, he added, "Maybe then the Minister will allow us to go home to our families for Christmas dinner at the very least. It's not like we're going to get much else done with Scotland Yard all over this place."
"You're probably right," Harry said, crossing his arms and glancing around at all the officers. They were certainly impeding their use of magic. Glancing around, Harry nodded across the street with his chin. "It looks like the Holmes fellow is interested in getting back into the investigation. He's on his way back over here now."
Theo's smirk only grew as he turned to see what Harry was talking about. Sure enough, Sherlock Holmes was striding their way, a determined look on his regal face. Theo knew he should probably behave himself, but there was just something about Sherlock Holmes that intrigued him and made him want to torture him in any way possible. Maybe it was the way he appeared so stuck-up despite being perfectly aloof. Whatever the case, Theo was about to have some fun even if it would cause him to be chastised by Harry later on.
"Sorry, mate, you're going to have to wait. We need a bit more time here," Theo said as Sherlock finished his approach. He gestured to the body at his feet and then at the rest of the crime scene. "I'm sure that a detective of you are nature can understand, eh?"
Sherlock quirked a single eyebrow and gave both Theo and Harry the once-over. "I believe we have yet to be introduced," he said, sticking out one hand. "Sherlock Holmes. Consulting Detective."
"Theodore Nott," he replied, sticking out his own hand and grasping Sherlock's. He shook briefly and then stuck with his hands in his pockets. "I suppose you'll be wanting us to get out of your way then?"
Harry muttered something about needing to speak with one of the other officers and ducked out before Sherlock could ask who he was. He figured at this point Hermione might have mentioned his name to the man and he didn't want any complicated questions to arise because of that. Their primary goal was to keep her safe after all, and if Sherlock found out they were involved in this case, then everything could become quite confusing. There was no way they could reveal their involvement in the Wizarding World or the fact that Hermione was attacked by a wizard. Oh and the fact that the man at their feet used to go to a magical school.
Sherlock watched the other man go, confused as to why he didn't introduce himself. Nevertheless, he returned his attention to the man before him. "I don't mind if you stay, but I would like permission to continue investigating the crime scene."
"I hadn't realised that your permissions were revoked," Theo acknowledged, although he knew that Inspector Lestrade had asked Sherlock and Watson to step away while they came in and conducted their own search of the crime scene. "I'm just finishing up here. You're more than welcome to continue whatever it is you were doing before our arrival." He stepped away from the body and crossed his arms before tilting his head and giving Sherlock a questioning stare. It was time to have a bit of fun.
Sherlock didn't like the way this man was looking at him, so he crossed his arms and mimicked his stance before saying, "Is there something you were wondering?"
"Not really," Theo said, scratching at the stubble on his chin. He hadn't had a chance to shave that morning seeing as he hadn't been home since last night. "It's just that you look sort of familiar. Would I know you from somewhere?"
Narrowing his eyes, Sherlock tried to place the man before him but could not. "I do not believe we've ever met before this occasion." However, even as he said this, he found himself wondering if they had met once before.
Shrugging, Theo decided that was enough of a seed to plant for the time being. "Oh well. Anyway, the crime scene is yours. Just try not to disturb the body. It's supposed to be removed soon, but we may have a few more things to look over before it goes."
Sherlock nodded and then Theo smiled before walking toward where Harry was standing. The Head Auror was discussing something with Detective Inspector Lestrade and giving him a curious stare. He merely smiled to assure Harry he hadn't done anything too horrible to Sherlock. After all, he had Hermione best interests at heart just as Harry did. He merely wanted to play with the detective's mind a bit. It would be fine. Theo waited patiently for Harry to finish his conversation.
When Harry joined him, he asked, "What did the inspector have to say?"
"He just wanted to let me know he's allowing us access to any evidence he and his team has from the night of the twentieth," Harry explained, rubbing his cold hands together.
"Maybe by piecing together what they have with what we've discovered we'll be able to pinpoint a culprit," Theo said thoughtfully.
"That's what I was thinking too," Harry said, glancing over to where Sherlock was examining the bruises on Dennis Creevey's neck. He shuddered and then returned his attention to Theo. "What were you saying to him?"
"I just mentioned that he looked familiar," Theo said, wagging his eyebrows up and down. When Harry rolled his eyes, he added, "I didn't insinuate that we knew each other from a couple nights ago. Don't worry, he probably just thinks I've seen him around at crime scene before."
"You do realise he's one of the best detectives in the country, right?" Harry asked, placing a hand on Theo's shoulder and steering him away from the crime scene. They needed to head back to the Ministry and give Kingsley a report on what they'd discovered. "If he thinks on it too much, we might find ourselves the centre of his attention. We don't really need that right now. We're trying to keep the magical world a secret despite the Muggle authorities having been called for many of the attacks."
"It'll be fine, Potter," Theo teased, allowing his partner and friend to steer him toward a safe place to apparate. "I didn't give anything away. I promise."
Harry merely shook his head as they disappeared around a corner, free from the prying eyes of Sherlock Holmes and the others. There would be time to argue the issue later. For now, they needed to get back and try to crack this case. Both of them wanted to be with their families at some point. If they lingered, time would be wasted. Besides, it would be getting dark sooner rather than later, and there was nothing left for them at the crime scene. Once the body had been removed and examined by a coroner, they may have more answers. For now, they would do what they could with what they had.
. . . .
Despite the dismal start to her day, Hermione had to admit this Christmas wasn't nearly as horrible as it could have been. Everyone loved their gifts, even John who arrived later in the day due to helping Sherlock at some crime scene. Apparently, there had been a murder, and he was out investigating. John told them how he'd tried convincing Sherlock to come home, but the detective was persistent. As he explained this, he'd taken off his shoes and placed his news knitted socks overtop his old ones. He and Rosie had fallen asleep in the chair by the fire not long after dinner.
Mrs Hudson and Mary prepared a delicious meal for everyone that included a pot roast and mashed potatoes. Hermione ate more than she had in days and was so relaxed she nearly joined John and Rosie in a nap. If it hadn't been for Molly Hooper's constant storytelling, she would have fallen asleep quickly. Molly, who she learned worked at St. Bart's, was a lovely character. Hermione found her job a bit morbid, but the woman seemed to love it so she could find no fault in that. There were times where Hermione was sure other people thought her work to be a bit strange for a woman like herself. It didn't matter as long as you were happy.
All day long Hermione hoped for a message from Harry that they'd solved the case and she could come home, but no such luck. It was hard not to reach for the mobile every free moment she had, but somehow she managed. Mrs Hudson kept everyone's drinks full, and Mary kept the conversation flowing. By the time early evening arrived, Hermione was most certainly ready for more medicine and a good night's sleep. Molly was the first to leave, stating she had another party to pop in at before heading home for the night. Mary woke John shortly after that and prepared Rosie to leave. John was surprised to find that Sherlock was still not back.
"I'm sure he'll be here soon," Mary assured him as she handed him his jacket. "You know how he is when he's working a case."
"I do, and that's why I worry," John replied with a frown. He shrugged into the coat and then took Rosie into his arms so Mary could don hers as well. "He'll stay out all night if someone doesn't make him come home."
"Shoot him a text then," Mary said simply. She turned and gave Mrs Hudson a quick hug and then wandered over to Hermione. "It was lovely to spend today with you. Thank you for the blanket for Rosie and the new mittens." She gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"You're welcome, Mary. I can't thank you all enough for the wonderful day you've given me," Hermione said honestly. She had to swallow back the lump that formed in her throat. They all really had gone out of their way to make today special.
"It was nothing," Mrs Hudson chimed in as she too prepared to head down to her own flat. "We enjoyed having a reason to have a larger celebration than normal."
"It's a shame Sherlock missed it all," Hermione said with a frown. She missed the smirk Mary gave John or the way Mrs Hudson's eyes lit up at her remark. "Anyway, I hope to see you all again soon. Hopefully, before I leave."
"Of course," John said as he tucked his new mobile into his jacket pocket. He's told Hermione she could keep his old one. "Plus, I'll be back tomorrow evening to check your injuries."
Hermione just nodded and then watched as one by one they all left. Soon, she was alone again, so she wandered over to the window and watched as the rain slowly turned into snow flurries. A few cars and a cab or two drove by, but still, there was no sign of Sherlock. Sighing, Hermione returned to the sofa and curled up underneath a blanket. Even though she was a tad sleepy, she wanted to wait up for a while in case he came home.
She grabbed the book she'd been reading the night before and soon was lost in the text. Minutes turned into hours, and before she knew it, Hermione could barely keep her eyes open any longer. A quick glance at the clock showed that it was well after ten. Setting aside the book, Hermione stood and began turning out the lights in each room. Pausing, in front of the Christmas tree, she contemplated turning that off too, but something held her back.
The Christmas lights that adorned the tree made the dark room seem a bit more homey, especially since she felt so homesick being separated from her friends. She wondered what they were currently up to and felt her heart ache at the loss. Soon, she thought. Soon she would return to her life in the wizarding world, and all would be well again. Smiling softly at the lights, she decided to leave the tree lit for both her and when Sherlock finally returned home. It would light his way, so he didn't stumble in the dark.
Starting to walk down the hall toward the back bedroom she was currently using, she was startled at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Holding her breath, she stood perfectly still as she waited on whoever was ascending the staircase to be revealed. When she saw Sherlock's head appear, a sigh of relief left her lips in a rush that called his attention to her. She took a tentative step toward him and nodded. He did the same and walked into the main room. Taking a chance, she followed after him.
"I was just going to go to bed," Hermione told Sherlock as he removed his jacket and hung it by the door. She hesitated and then added, "I left your gift under the tree." She pointed to where a small package sat. She'd wrapped it in red paper with a white bow. Simple. "Thank you for the trinket box. It was beautiful."
"You're welcome," Sherlock stated merely as he paused by the tree.
Hermione watched as he stopped to pick up his present and then waited with bated breath as he returned to full height. In the light from the tree, she could see how tired he was, and how handsome as well. Nibbling her lip nervously, she lost herself in the movement of his hands as he untied the ribbon and removed the wrapping. When he took the scarf she handmade from the box, she held her breath, praying that he liked her token of appreciation.
"This is quite lovely," he told her, turning it over in his hand. "Thank you."
"You're welcome," Hermione practically whispered, her mouth having gone dry. She had no idea why she felt so nervous right now. It was just a scarf and Sherlock was just the man she was living with temporarily. It wasn't as if she had feelings for him. She hardly knew him for Merlin's sake. "I wanted to make you something, as a way of saying thank you for allowing me to stay here while I recover."
"I already told you that it was not a problem for you to remain here," Sherlock said, setting aside the box and wrappings. He touched the soft scarf for a moment before looping it around his neck.
Smiling slightly at Sherlock for trying on her gift, she said, "I know, but it just felt right." He nodded and then she boldly added, "We missed you today. Mrs Hudson made a wonderful dinner. I think she left you a plate in the refrigerator if you're hungry. I can warm it for you."
Shaking his head, Sherlock said, "No, that it alright. I typically do not eat when I'm working a case. I may sleep for a few hours, but that will be all."
"Are you sure? I don't mind," she started to say, but Sherlock held up his hand.
"Hermione," he began, taking a step toward where she stood in the doorway. "It has been a long day for you. Take your medicine and get some sleep. If I grow hungry in the middle of the night, I can warm the plate myself. Thank you again for the scarf. Goodnight." And with that, he brushed past her and up the stairs to John's old bedroom.
Hermione watched as he went, something akin to disappointment and rejection making her chest ache in an entirely different way. She wished she knew why he was so distant all the time, especially with her. Any hope that the scarf would bring them closer together was squashed as the bedroom door upstairs clocked shut. With a heavy sigh, Hermione shook her head and went to bed. Still, she left the Christmas lights on in the flat. She needed them to keep her heart from breaking, though she knew not why.
. . . .