Author's Note: First, I know this update is coming WAY late. Life is crazy, and so is the world. Anyway, I hope those of you who have been eagerly waiting for an update are as thrilled as I am about this. There is more to come because I have some left over from NaNoWriMo 2018, the story it was based upon, and what I am working on now for NaNoWriMo 2021. I'm hoping to have it done before the month is through. Thanks to those who have stuck it out with me. I love all of you new and old readers. Much love, xxDustNight.

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! Huge thank you to starrnobella for reading this chapter over to make sure I haven't lost my touch! Haha! 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.

29 December 2018

Pacing, Hermione contemplated just giving up and leaving 221B after last night's embarrassment. However, she knew better than to try and get out of the bath on her own, and in the end, it had cost her precious progress with Sherlock. Considering that it had taken so much time to slowly pick away at Sherlock's carefully constructed walls, this surely was going to make it even more challenging to get him to open up to her now.

The flat had been exceptionally quiet since the night before, leaving Hermione to believe that Sherlock had left and not yet returned. It was strange to not hear the morose violin playing through her dreams or the quiet scuffle as the consulting detective paced the front room. Even the absence of the scent of tea and chemicals wafting from the kitchen made Hermione's heartache.

Walking out of the bedroom after hiding there for most of the morning, Hermione was ready to face the inevitable. In these strange days between Christmas and New Year, she was meant to be alone instead of working or lazing about with her friends, reminiscing about holidays past. But, this year, there would be none of that. Instead, she was meant to overthink everything she said and didn't say to a man who was an enigma.

"Sherlock… I-"

"I presume you'll be well enough to walk to the bedroom unassisted."

Groaning, Hermione plopped down onto the sofa and scrubbed at her face with both hands. Again she wondered what was about to come out of her mouth at that moment. Naked and with nothing to lose, she had been about to confess this budding attraction she felt for the complicated man who was allowing her to seek refuge in his simple flat.

For the millionth time that morning, Hermione tried to convince herself that there was absolutely no time to fall for someone right now. There was a case to solve, or rather murder, and she was somehow part of this neverending circle of confusion. Uncovering her face, Hermione stared at the flat before her, sighing heavily in frustration.

She couldn't stay here any longer.

Rising from the sofa, Hermione walked back into the bedroom where she'd left the mobile phone John had left her to use. Picking it up, she brought up Harry's number and hit send without pausing to think about what she was doing. If she hesitated again, there would be no turning back at all. She'd stay here instead of returning to her world and leaving this one and Sherlock for good.

"Hang up the mobile," came a voice from behind Hermione, startling her.

Gasping, Hermione whirled around, the phone falling to the floor with a clatter.

Theo sat at the kitchen island in his and Blaise's townhome. His husband was upstairs taking a shower, and he was supposed to be making breakfast before going into the office. Honestly, though, his heart wasn't in it this morning. He felt betrayed by one of the people he had always felt closest to in this world, and that was messing with everything in his mind.

Hearing the water shut off, Blaise knew at the very least he needed coffee before this day began. By the end of it, he suspected, everything would change. Knowing exactly who the wizard was behind the chaos that had overtaken their lives this past week, Theo was confident that nothing would ever be the same again between not just him and Blaise but their friends as well.

"I was expecting a three-course meal, love," Blaise said as he sauntered into the kitchen five minute later. He brought with him the scent of the ocean from his shampoo and soap, and Theo felt his chest grow tight with anxiety. He looked disappointed to find that Theo hadn't made his infamous English breakfast for the two of them.

While the coffee brewed in their fancy maker, Theo walked toward his husband and took his hand. He used it to guide him to sit with him at the counter he previously vacated. "Blaise, you know that I love you more than life itself, right?"

Blaise looked at their joined hands before meeting Theo's intense stare. "Okay, Theo, you're scaring me. What happened?"

"There's been a break in the case," Theo began nervously. He picked at an invisible string on his work robes as he tried to come up with what to say next. "We are pretty certain we know who orchestrated the attacks and killed Creevy."

Blaise blinked once, then twice before standing from the counter seat and running both hands over his shaved head. "Then why are you here with me instead of out there trying to bring them into custody?"

Slowly, Theo stood from his own seat and walked until he stood in front of Blaise. Then, with a heavy sigh, he said, "I think you know exactly why I'm here with you."

"Ginny," Harry said, sighing as his wife came into his office for an early lunch. "Can you do me a favour today?"

Setting their bagged lunches on the desk, Ginny crossed her arms. "You know I'll do anything you need me to. What is it?"

"Can you orchestrate some sort of getting together for the kids, including Goyle and Malfoy's boys as well?" Harry asked, peering up at his wife nervously. He wasn't exactly sure what her reaction would be to such a request.

Sighing heavily, Ginny ran a hand through her fiery hair. "I was hoping to have a quiet day at home, but I can do that. Albus and Scorpius always have fun, and I'm sure Goyle's son will appreciate being included too."

"Thank you," Harry said, rising from his chair and coming around to give his wife a hug. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Harry," Ginny said, snuggling into the embrace. "Can I ask you why I need to do this?"

"Today is going to be a rather difficult day all around, Gin," Harry quietly explained, refusing to let go of her just yet. "I can't say more than that, so please just trust me."

"I always trust you."

"Good," Harry said, moving to hold Ginny at arm's length now. "Because there is one more thing I am going to ask of you, and this one could cost us both our jobs."

Staring into her husband's brilliant, green eyes, Ginny let out a long steady breath. Then, nodding, she said, "Tell me what I need to do."

"Hang up the mobile," came a voice from behind Hermione, startling her.

Gasping, Hermione whirled around, the phone falling to the floor with a clatter.

"Sherlock!" Hermione shrieked with relief, her hand coming up to clutch at her still bruised throat. "I've asked you not to do that," she scolded before attempting to stoop and pick up the mobile phone. "You scared me half to death!"

Before she had a chance to retrieve the mobile, Sherlockbent at the waist and quickly scooped it up. He slipped it into the pocket of his coat, which caused Hermione to pause with concern. Then, ignoring her obvious discomfort and surprise, Sherlock said, "I know you were about to call your friend to retrieve you, but I am asking you to stay."

"You're asking me to stay…." Hermione trailed off, crossing her arms and ignoring the pain in her chest. "I need to know why."

"I know that you and I have not known each other for very long, but you have to trust what I am about to say," Sherlock explained, his face stoic and unmoving. "The pieces of this chess game are still moving, and you, the queen, are unsafe if you leave this flat."

Never having been that great at chess, Hermione huffed and shook her head. "This isn't a game, Sherlock," she began, stepping forward and holding out her hand. "It's real life. Please give me back the mobile."

"I will once you promise not to leave this flat," Sherlock said, stepping backwards away from her outstretched hand. "You're the intended target, Hermione. Don't you see that? All of the attacks and the murder, it's been to try and get you."

That caused Hermione to sway on her feet, but she waved off Sherlock's hand when he reached out to steady her. "What did you just say?"

"The attacker, the murder, he is after… You."

This time, Hermione had to actually move and sit on the edge of the bed before she crumpled to the floor. Thinking back to the papers and notes Sherlock had strewn about in the living room, it all made sense. It also fit with the fact that Harry didn't want her to come back to the Wizarding world just yet. He, too, was trying to keep her safe from whoever was trying to go after her.

"It can't be… Me?" Hermione started up at Sherlock, unable to say anything more at the moment. "Why?"

"I haven't been able to figure that part out yet," Sherlock said, glancing away with anger. "I am going to solve this case, but I need you to remain here. Is that understood?"

Still unable to speak, Hermione merely nodded solemnly. She watched Sherlock back from the vroom. Then, with a groan of pain, she pushed up from the bed and followed him into the kitchen, watching as he set the mobile in the middle of the table. When he turned back toward her, she was surprised to see worry and reluctance flash in his sea-coloured eyes.

"I'll be back before dawn," he said and waited for her to nod understandingly. When she had, he refastened his coat and moved to the staircase, leaving her alone once more.

After Sherlock swept from the flat, Hermione rushed forward and grabbed the mobile from where he'd set it on the kitchen table. Then, as quickly as possible, she hurried to the window to watch as Sherlock disappeared once more into a cab. Her heart fell knowing that he'd left her alone after such an epic reveal.

Hermione let the curtain fall back into place when the cab was out of sight before staring at the mobile she held in her hand. He'd left it for her despite knowing that she'd been on the brink of calling Harry to come and get her. Knowing now that she was the actual target of these attacks, Hermione's heart raced.

She dropped the mobile onto the table between the windows and backed slowly away. Breathing heavily, she wanted to be nowhere near where she could be seen by anyone walking by 221B Baker Street. A quick glance at the clock on the mantle told her that it was barely afternoon. Dawn was far off, and Hermione knew that she was likely to be alone until then.

Now more than ever, she wished she had her wand back in hand.