Chapter 2: It Will Never Be Normal

Weeks passed since the incident with the Dark Mark and nothing extraordinary happened. Even the murders of the muggleborn soon-to-be-wizards ceased. John suspected that it was connected with the aurors' ambush at the crime scene. It seemed that John unknowingly might have interfered with a trap set by the aurors and as a result he helped the murderers escape.

The only thing that was unusual in the flat on the 221B Baker Street was that John very often got lost in thoughts. The man, reminisced about his past, was very often thinking about his childhood and career as Voldemort's servant. As a pureblood wizard born to an old family with a motto "Dum vivimus, vivamus" meaning "while we live, let us live", John very early has been taught about the culture, history and traditions of wizards. The motto wasn't present before the XVII century, the times when witch-hunts were widely practiced in Europe. The Watsons lost many family members because of that. One of the greatest wizarding families in England in about a century got almost wiped out. Families such as Malfoys, Potters and Lestranges hid abroad before the real hunts started. Blacks and Prewetts had so strongly guarded properties that all they had to do was to hid in their own homes. The rest were living in constant fear.

John remembered his grandfather telling him a story about how it all begun. A muggleborn wizards were practicing magic without caring about being noticed. That's how the rumors about the existence of magic started centuries ago. But it was mostly harmless. Wizards could easily erase memories, disapparate and use various spells to defend themselves. But as more and more muggles witnessed magic, they started to crave it. And finally in the XIV century a few muggleborn wizards created an artifact that could suck the magic from the wizard and through it let the non-magical people use it. The item got in hands of the Pope and that's how the hunts begun. The worst thing was that the artifact sucked the whole magic from wizards, leaving them nothing but defenseless squibs. Hundreds of wizard in Europe died such way till the artifact got destroyed much later in the XVIII century.

Since that time many pureblooded families made sure to hide themselves from muggles. New protection spells were invented and generally wizards didn't appear often in places where the non-magical people resided. Young muggleborn children were no longer allowed to be raised by their parents after their eleventh birthday. Any accidental magic that happened to them and had been noticed by muggles was quickly covered by special units created by the Ministry of Magic. Those who wanted to return to muggle world after finishing their studies, needed to swear a secrecy oath. The wizards became nearly paranoid, but they had good reasons to be.

John couldn't be more proud of his ancestors who contributed in creating better protection for wizards. Upon his eleventh birthday he left for Hogwarts where he was selected into Slytherin. It wasn't really a surprise for anybody. The boy was smart, level-headed and very proud. Besides there was a tendency that pureblood wizards ended in this house. Before it didn't really matter, but since the rise of Voldemort, everybody put in this house was treated by the rest as Dark Wizards.

Well, it wasn't as if the Watsons didn't support Voldemort. They and most of the English pureblood families had good reasons to. Especially since the last two Ministers of Magic were muggleborns and they were forcing laws that not only threatened the safety of wizards once again, but also that were putting restrictions on blood magic, calling it dark. It was an obvious provocation because every wizard who finished their schooling knew that blood magic was the most basic and traditional magic used by the pureblood wizards since the beginning of their existence. All the sacrificed made were voluntary. For muggleborns it may seemed to be illogical, brutal and even pointless, but it was the source of pride for many families and suddenly restricting it wasn't a smart move.

When Voldemort rose to power many had fallen under his charm. The charismatic man about whose background no one seemed to know a thing, perfectly understood the purebloods, their fears and hopes. He convinced many that to prevent another exposure a war was necessary. Half-bloods, muggleborn and muggle-lovers wouldn't step down, no matter what arguments purebloods put forward. And then the Minister introduced a law that all dark artifacts should be handed over and destroyed, so many families protested and joined Voldemort in order to protect their legacy.

The clash of cultures, brought by the muggleborns had to end in a serious conflict. John, after graduating, joined Voldemort and actively fought for the purebloods rights. The murders, kidnappings, tortures – he wasn't at first ready for that. But soon he understood that both sides of the conflict used similar methods. It was a war. It was brutal and it required sacrifices.

Thanks to John's amazing medical abilities, he was able to rise high in Voldemort's ranks and enter the inner circle. He rarely went on outdoor missions. Mostly he was dealing with the injured wizards that returned from the battles. Sometimes, when the hostages were brought in for interrogation he would make sure that they hadn't died before they provided the information.

Something changed when the Dark Lord heard about the prophecy. All his attention was focused on finding a child. And soon after that he was defeated by a year old baby. John was in shock and if it wasn't for Lucius Malfoy, he probably would be sentenced a lifetime in Azkaban. Malfoy helped many purebloods get an alibi. Especially since without their leader they couldn't work out a course of action. A part of them wanted to continue attacks on the muggleborns and blood-traitors, others wanted to attack the Ministry and seize political power, the rest simply gave up.

For the next thirteen years John worked in St Mungo's and became a mediwizard. After hours he was working with other ex-Death Eaters who were trying to push laws restricting contacts with muggles. But without much success. As the so-called "Light Side" won, new laws were forced and random house raids became the new nightmare for pureblooded families. The activists who fought for the tradition, culture and safety suddenly got called the murderes, criminals and the devil's incarnates, even though both sides of the conflict had casualties.

And just when John began to give up, Dark Lord returned. Hope returned with him. Not everybody arrived at the summons, but that could be understood easily. Many families left England, other were too scared to stand against the Ministry which strength grew to unimaginable levels. But John wanted to do something for his people, for the children that he might have in the future. He wanted the next generation to remember the rich and beautiful culture and traditions of the old wizards, but it was all in vain. Voldemort was obsessed with Potter. All the battles, attacks, kidnappings were done in order to catch the boy. John begun to understand that his Lord was a madman who didn't care about the cause anymore. He doubted that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named ever cared about it. Later his suspicions got confirmed as he started torturing his own men for incompetence. Before it happened very rarely.

The second war was a torture for everybody. But the Death Eaters couldn't simply leave. Their lives and the lives of their families would be in danger. So the war no one really believed in continued. It was painfully slow and when the Battle of Hogwarts ended everything, John was actually relieved.

He learned that his Lord, who supposedly was the leader of all the purebloods, was a half-blood himself. He was driven by the hatred towards the muggles that raised him and towards his muggle father who had abandoned him and his mother. John felt cheated and completely defeated. He left Wizarding World just as the hunts for Voldemort's supporters began. There was no longer a place for him in that world. So he hid his wand and left his magical heritage behind believing that he would never return to that life again.

And now, he was actually missing his old life: the feeling of magic surrounding him, spells, potions and magical artifacts. He even missed the war and the battles. But thanks to Sherlock he never got bored and the adrenaline pumped through his veins more often than not. The life he had now was good and he wouldn't want to trade it for anything. But still the magic was calling out to him and John found it harder and harder to ignore.

"John? John! Are you listening?" Sherlock's excited but also annoyed voice brought him back from his thoughts.

"Wa.. What?" The taller man smiled now that he finally had his attention.

"A case! A serial killer here in London! 3 bodies found so far, but we can expect more. Lestrade said that there is something unusual about the bodies. There is a fresh one waiting for us, so quickly! Let's go!" Sherlock sounded as a child who just was about to go on a trip to Disneyland. Maybe other people would be taken aback by his attitude, but John didn't really mind it.

On the contrary, Sherlock's reactions amused John, now that he knew the man better. After all these years, he didn't find them boring. He got almost equally excited, mind you. So he quickly got up from his chair and grabbed his coat. He eyed his boots reluctantly. They weren't really comfortable but at least they were warm. And during the cases Sherlock often decided to go to unexpected places, so with the winter approaching John decided to put them on.

"John? Are you coming?" Sherlock shouted from downstairs. Before he wouldn't wait for his flatmate. He often used to forget about the doctor's existence when the cases were especially interesting. But it all changed, John assumed, after Mary and the child had died. Sherlock has been unexpectedly supportive and extra careful around his friend. And for months he had made sure that John wasn't bored for even a moment. He even took the most boring cases to keep the doctor's mind from the tragedy that happened. John was really thankful for that. If it weren't for his friend, he didn't know what would he do. Maybe he would walk into the Diagon Alley and let himself get caught. At that time Dementor's Kiss seemed to be actually a tempting offer.

John promised himself that he would do anything to ensure Sherlok's happiness. It wasn't really an easy task, taking the man's fondness of the most dangerous cases into consideration, but the wizard didn't complain. He would protect his friend from any harm, even if he needed to put his own life on the stake.

…

The crime scene was an abandoned storehouse located in the middle of nowhere. John almost couldn't believe that there was such an empty space in London. As they entered the building, they spotted Detective Inspector Lestrade, clearly waiting for them.

"Where?" Sherlock asked without greeting.

"Over there." Greg pointed to his left where a couple of policemen and analysts were gathering. Sherlock in quick steps went to the place where the body of the victim was placed. John nodded in greeting at the detective and quickly followed.

The view that welcomed him made him stare in amazement. The murderer must have thought of himself as an artist. The body looked like a grotesque sculpture. It was a woman body, decapitated and put in a meditating position. On the victim's lap was placed her head with gauged eyes. John looked around to find them, but they were nowhere in sight. Another interesting thing about the body was the fact that it was painted gold.

"Buddha." Sherlock said quietly.

"Sorry, what?" John turned his eyes away from the body and looked at his friend.

"The body is supposed to look like a decapitated Buddha. It symbolizes the fall of the religion. The murderer clearly is a part of some sect and tries to show that only what he believes in is true." Sherlock explained not taking his eyes away from the victim.

"The previous two bodies found were also decapitated. The first one was crucified, the second was put in a tub filled with pig's blood. Obviously, references to Christianity and Islam." He continued and took out from his coat's pocked a few photos which he handed to John.

Those were the photos of the previous victims. The bodies were, just like this one, painted gold. John didn't have to be a genius to guess that they were killed by the same person. All of them were women, but beside that there was not really any connection, as far as he could tell. One of them was blonde, the other two had brown hair but their body shapes were totally different.

"He picks them randomly." Sherlock said as if he was reading John's mind.

"Like an artist he chooses the ones that would suit best his vision. See the bruises on her wrists and neck?" he pointed at the body. "He tied her up. She was still alive when he brought her here. Look at the floor, scratch marks. She must have fought with all her might. The eye sockets are torn, so he removed the eyes while she still was alive. Took it as a memento." The people who were listening to Sherlock's explanation looked horrified.

"So who are we looking for?" asked Lestrade who finally joined the group.

"A man between 35 – 50, single, muscular, belonging to some sect, most likely the leader of it or some high priest. Graduated from art school. The way the body is painted clearly points to familiarity with ochre. And look, the job is perfectly done, there aren't any smudges." Sherlock said. Then he took out his mobile phone and walked out without another word. John bid the others goodbye and followed him quickly.

"So, what do we do now?" He asked when they exited the warehouse.

"Go home and research the most active sects in London in the last year." Sherlock answered not taking his eyes away from his phone for even a moment. It seemed that he already started doing the research.

…..

John signed as he watched the news. He lost hope that he would find there any clues towards the murderer. Just now the speaker was talking about some thousands years old sarcophagus stolen from the British Museum, so John decided to turn the telly off.

"I got it!" Sherlock exclaimed as he rose from the sofa he was laying on.

"Got what?" John asked patiently.

"Where and when the next body will be found! Come on! We have about two hours to get there in time and catch the murderer." The consulting detective grabbed John's coat and throw it at him. Then he took his own, pocketed his mobile phone and walked out of the flat.

"Where are we going?" John asked when he finally joined him outside.

"Bexley. There's an abandoned storehouse." Sherlock said and waved at a nearing taxi. As both men entered it, John asked:

"How do you know that the murderer will be there today?"

"The first victim was crucified on All Saints Day, the second died on Eid al-Adha, and the third on Bodhi Day. Today is Karthikai Deepam." John looked puzzled at the last name of the holiday.

"Hindu holiday." Sherlock explained shortly assuming that John wouldn't need more details.

"Any why the storehouse in Bexley?" John inquired.

"Today there is a gathering of Callieu sect. Couldn't be a coincidence." John heard a bit about this sect, that it became quite popular among young people, but he didn't know whether it was dangerous or not. He decided to trust Sherlock's judgement, however. The man was rarely wrong.

…

When they arrived near the storehouse, John had a sense of déjà vu. After thinking about it for a moment, he came to a conclusion that the sense of similarity was caused by the fact the scenery was almost identical to the one at the previous crime scene. Once again there was not a sign of a living soul in the neighborhood.

"He's here." Sherlock said and pointed to a black Honda parked nearby.

"The murderer?" John asked, already knowing the answer. He unconsciously reached for the gun hidden in his trousers. As he touched the cold metal he calmed almost immediately. He also had his wand hidden in his sleeve, but it didn't give him the feeling of safety like it used to.

Sherlock without another word walked towards the entrance of the storehouse. John quickly followed, looking around carefully.

The place was dark, no sounds could be heard. The men walked deeper inside. As they were already quite far away from the exit, the door suddenly closed behind them with a loud thud.

John's first reaction was to take out his gun. Sherlock stopped and looked around. Both men were standing in silence and listening for any noises or sudden movements.

"There." Sherlock pointed to their left and quickly rushed over there with John right behind him.

"That's…" John didn't finish his sentence. Before him was the body of a young, not older than 25, blonde woman. It was already painted gold, but the head was still intact, though the eyes were gauged and nowhere in sight. It seemed that they have interrupted the murderer. Maybe if they were 10 minutes earlier, they would be able to save the girl.

Next to the body laid a casket. No, it wasn't a casket. The shape was different.

"A sarcophagus from the British Museum." Sherlock explained. John was confused. What was that thing doing here?

"Hinduism and ancient Egyptian religion have a lot in common. Only the burial is very different. The body was supposed to be put in there as an act of mockery towards the religion." Sherlock explained briefly.

John was about to crouch and take a better look at the body, but then he heard footsteps, so he quickly turned around. Sherlock was walking towards someone or something, it was impossible to tell because the place was dark.

"Sherlock!" John called after his friends but was either not heard or ignored. He blindly began to walk towards the noise and jumped when he heard a loud thud, as if something or someone was hit with a dull object. Without a second thought John hurried to the place where the noise came from and held his gun in front of himself, ready to shoot.

As he walked closer he noticed a silhouette of a person lying of the floor. He tried his best to see the person's face and just as he recognized it as his flatmate's, someone grabbed him from behind and hit his hand, making his gun fall to the ground. The attacker kicked the gun away when John tried to bend over and reach for it.

Both men were wrestling against each other. John assumed that the one attacking him was the murderer who probably carried the weapon on himself. But more important was the fact that Sherlock lied unmoving on the floor.

He needed to act fast. He hit the man with his head which made the attacker let him go and stumble a few steps backwards. This gave John enough time to hurry towards the lying man.

John quickly grabbed Sherlock's hand and let out a relieved breath when he noticed that the pulse was still present. He checked quickly for the wounds, but found only a large bump on the back of his friend's head. There was no blood, so the man wasn't in any danger for now. Still he would need to be taken to the hospital for a checkup.

As soon as John made sure Sherlock is safe, he took out his wand and quietly cast Lumos. The faint light should help him locate the murderer. But there was no one in sight. The attacker probably hid himself in the shadows and waited for the best opportunity to attack. John needed to be smarter and faster than him.

As John was looking around, he noticed a slight movement to his right. He quickly pointed his wand at the place but nothing happened. Then there was another movement, closer to him and closer to Sherlock. John couldn't risk that any more harm came to his best friend so he turned around and shouted:

"Expelliarmus!" The spell hit the murdered and slammed him against the wall. John used quite a lot of strength while casting it, so there was a possibility that he killed the man. He wasn't really feeling bad because of it. As he walked closer to check the murderer is at least unconscious he heard a loud crack.

A shiver ran through John's spine and gripped his wand tightly. His fingers turned white. Someone apparated to the storehouse and John would bet all his money that it was an auror and most likely Potter. It proved his theory that there had been put a locating spell on his wand but the ex-Death Eater had no time to think about it. He needed to run.

Almost wordlessly he cast Notice-Me-Not spell on himself and ran towards the exit. His advantage was that the auror apparated at the back of the storehouse, about 20 meters from the place John was standing now. The exit was about 40 meter ahead but John knew he could do it. At least he would try. There was nothing else he could do now.

"Immobulus" John quickly cast at the unconscious murderer as he passed him. He believed that now Sherlock would be safe.

As doctor Watson ran with all his might, he heard footsteps behind him. The place was dark so it was no use turning around and seeing who was chasing him. He speed up and noticed that he had quite an advantage of distance. It would take at least 40 seconds for the auror to catch up with him deducting from the noise of the approaching footsteps.

As John arrived at the door, he quickly opened them and thanked God that they weren't locked by the murderer. At the moment it didn't occur to him that he could have used magic. Living as a muggle for so long more often than not made him forget about magical solutions.

As the bit of the sunlight entered the storehouse John nearly got hit by a spell. It seemed that now the auror located him and was starting to throw spells.

John quickly exited the building and ran. Just then a black car very quickly came his way and stopped a few meter in front of him. The door opened and a familiar voice said:

"Get in, doctor Watson." John didn't have time to be shocked. He quickly entered the car and came face to face with Mycroft Holmes. He opened his mouth to say something but the other man was faster.

"My assistant will take care of the situation, doctor Watson." As he said that John quickly looked out of the window and noticed Anthea walking towards the storehouse. This time she wasn't holding a mobile phone in her hands.

The car moved then. John was still breathing quickly. He thought he might faint. He was still gripping his wand in his hands, not thinking about what Mycroft might think about it.

"Sherlock…" he started but the older of the Holmes brothers cut him in.

"Don't worry. He will be all right." John let go out a relieved breath and relaxed his back a little.

"Maybe you should put down your wand, so we can talk in a more… comfortable manner?" John stared at the man in shock. It was too much for him: the adrenaline, the running. The words uttered by Mycroft overbalanced the scale and John lost consciousness.