Chapter 5

Not a perfect solution

As John was moving around the kitchen preparing tea, his mind was racing. Thousands of scenarios crossed his mind and yet, none of them was good enough. Briefly, he considered obliviating both Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson, but then he remembered that his wand was being tracked by the Ministry, and as soon as he cast a single Obliviate, the flat would be stormed by aurors. Moreover, Sherlock probably wouldn't be too happy about having some of his memories deleted for him. Such a thing would destroy they friendship completely. It would be beyond repair and John was willing to do anything to avoid that. Sherlock was the most important person in his life. He didn't want him to be another person he lost.

As he put the kettle on, an idea struck him. He quickly grabbed his mobile phone and send a message to Mycroft:

Had unexpected visitors. Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson know. What do I do?

He didn't have to wait long for a reply. Only a minute or so passed.

I am on the way,

MH

John let out a relieved sigh. He didn't even know he was holding his breath. Mycroft was his only hope. However, the tea was almost ready and the man wouldn't be able to arrive in the next 15 minutes. If he made it in half an hour, it would be actually a success. It was London after all.

But John underestimated Mycroft Holmes. It was Mycroft Holmes after all. The man was entering the flat roughly five minutes after he texted John. The doctor (a mediwizard actually) was just about to bring tea into the living room when Mycroft arrived. And he wasn't alone.

"I hope you don't mind if a colleague of mine comes in. He would provide a great help to clear the situation that certainly caused some confusion for the present parties." He said looking around the room. He was probably collecting data and making a damage control, thought John.

As he looked closely at the unknown man that entered his flat, the first thing that he noticed was the strange clothes he was wearing. His jacket was yellow and looked at least two sizes too big, His trousers were green in polka dots, and he was wearing sandals with pink socks underneath. John blinked. But his confusion quickly dissipated. Of course, the man was a wizard. It seemed that wizards were genetically incapable of wearing muggle clothes in a way that would make them actually look normal. John couldn't even remember how many times Sherlock frowned at his jumpers.

"This is Mr. Weasley. He is going to need to interrogate each of you first in order to gather information about the burglars." John ignored the protested sound Sherlock made at this information, because he was looking rater bemusedly at the man Mycroft just introduced. That man certainly wasn't a Weasley. First of all, the man wasn't a redhead. Secondly…. Well, he wasn't a redhead. John was watching the man with obvious distrust. He most likely wasn't an auror, which was a bit of a relief. The way he dressed suggested no knowledge about the muggle world, so he was a pureblood. But John didn't recall meeting the man at any of the Death Eater's meetings. So either he was a blood traitor or a neutral party. He didn't know which option would be worse.

"I know you are distressed. You probably want some answers as you may have found the events you had witnessed confusing. But I promise we are going to explain everything. There is no need to worry." Mycroft's voice was so sweet that it would probably give them diabetics if he were to talk more.

"The interrogations will be brief, I assure you. May we use your bedroom for that, Sherlock?" The younger Holmes made a strangled noise which Mycroft took as a permission. John wasn't so sure about that, but he couldn't bring himself to look at Sherlock to maybe read from his expression whether he gave consent or not.

"Mrs. Hudson, if you don't mind, you can go first. It is better to get over with it quickly, isn't it?" Mycroft smiled at the old lady and proceeded to help her stand up from the sofa she was sitting on. John blinked. He completely forgot about the transfigured armchairs. Sherlock was sitting on the other one, and he most likely didn't forget about the new furniture in the room.

"Oh, very well. Let's go Mr. … Weasley, wasn't it?" The wizard smiled at the lady, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. He seemed to be totally emotionless. A bit like Anthea, if John were to be honest. He wondered why Mycroft wanted to surround himself with such people.

"It will only take a few minutes." The strangely dressed man reassured Mrs. Hudson and both of them went to Sherlock's bedroom, closing the door behind them.

"Don't look at me like that, Sherlock. She won't get hurt." Mycroft reassured his brother. John curiously looked at his flatmate and noticed that the man was glaring at his brother. Then he turned his gaze to John and kept looking at him as if he was a most fascinating puzzle. John couldn't keep the eye contact for more than a few seconds, so he turned his attention back to Mycroft.

"She is going to have her memories of the recent events removed. Or rather modified. When she comes back she will think that some burglars came in and knocked you both unconscious. Then John came back and fended them off." John agreed that it was the best possible course of action. He was also quite impressed that Mycroft deduced so much from a single text John had sent him. Well, he was the smarter Holmes brother after all. What made him wonders was actually the fact that Mycroft said that in front of Sherlock. Was he so sure that his brother wouldn't run or try to fight the people who wanted to attack the most precious thing he possessed – his mind? An answer to that came quicker than John would expect.

"We're not going to do the same to you, Sherlock. Don't worry. Your mind is perfectly safe. We are going to have a long chat after the matter with Mrs. Hudson will have been cleared." They were going to leave Sherlock's memories intact? John didn't know whether to be relieved or worried by it. He was a bit relieved, if he were to be honest.

The men didn't talk. They waited patiently in a complete silence. Mycroft sat down on the sofa Mrs. Hudson vacated, but John kept standing looking at anything but Sherlock. He guessed that his friend on the other hand was looking at nothing else but John. He was a new puzzle after all.

After a few moment which could last no longer than ten minutes, but to John were like whole centuries, Mrs. Hudson and the "Weasley" came back from the room. The landlady had a dazed look in her eyes, but was smiling and seemed to be all right.

"You must be tired Mrs. Hudson after everything that happened. Maybe you should go and rest? Sleep surely will help you regain your strength, isn't that so dr. Watson?" Mycroft said politely. John only nodded and tried to smile at the woman but only managed a grimace. It was better like this, he knew. Mrs. Hudson was better off forgetting about everything that happened today. But still John felt guilty. Living as a muggle reintroduced the feeling of guilt to him. Now he probably wouldn't even be able to cast a Crucio on anybody. Maybe it was for the better. He never liked that spell anyway.

"You are right. I am too old for such adventures, boys. Tomorrow we will have a talk about better ways of locking the doors and protecting the flat. We can't have burglars coming in as they please, now can we?" John nodded presuming that his voice would fail him. Mrs. Hudson was such a charming and kind old lady, and he has made her undergo such unpleasant things.

After she left, Mycroft nodded at the "Weasley", and the wizard disappeared. Well, he disapparated actually. John briefly looked at Sherlock who was blinking and staring at the place where just a few seconds ago the man stood.

"Well, then. I believe that you should have a walk, dr. Watson. You seem to be very stressed, so fresh air and a bit of exercise would surely help you relieve it." John blinked confusedly at the older Holmes.

"I don't understa…." He begun but Mycroft cut in.

"I believe it would be better if I were to talk to my little brother alone. We are both muggles, after all. My explanation would surely make things clearer for him than if you were to try, don't you think so, dr. Watson?" John blinked.

"Are you going to tell him everything?" He asked not daring to look at Sherlock.

"That is my intention, yes." Mycroft answered calmly.

"Even about…" John gulped "Even about me?" Mycroft's eyes softened.

"I believe that would be the best, wouldn't it? I don't know much about your situation actually, but rest assured, I am not going to condemn you." John lowered his eyes. Maybe it really would be better if Mycroft were to tell Sherlock the truth. They were brothers after all. Mycroft understood the way Sherlock's mind worked.

"Okay, then I am going to leave for a bit. I… I'll be back later." He said quietly. And walked to the door. He turned around at looked at the two men who were silently staring at him. Then his gaze turned towards Sherlock. He swallowed, nodded in his direction and left. He hoped that when he returns Sherlock will still remain his friend.

Once he stepped outside, he took a deep breath. Then he looked around as if trying to spot anything suspicious. As nothing caught his attention, he started walking. He had no particular destination in mind. He just moved forward. His mind was occupied with thoughts about the events of the day. He kept walking and walking until he stopped in front of a graveyard. He blinked. He knew where he was. It was a graveyard where Mary and their child were buried. He didn't visit it often. It still hurt to think about them. He tried to move on, but wasn't very successful at it. If it weren't for Sherlock then… He needs to stop thinking about Sherlock now or he'll go crazy. He needs to occupy his mind with something else.

Next to the entrance to the cemetery stood a woman who was selling flowers. She was slowly packing up already as it was getting pretty late. He quickly made a decision and came towards her. He bought two large bouquets of white lilies and went to visit the graves of the two people he had loved very much.

He stopped in front of the graves. He placed the flowers in the vases that were empty. Probably someone threw out the flowers he had put in them last time he visited, that surely by then have wilted.

His life was built upon bad decision. Maybe if he had his wand with himself when Mary and the baby were dying, he would have been able to save them. Maybe if he had picked the Dumbledore's side during the war, then he wouldn't enter the muggle world. He would never have met Mary and she probably would still be alive. But then he would never meet Sherlock, too.

After meeting the man, John's view on muggles changed dramatically. He noticed that they were not so different from wizards. Of course, Sherlock was different from both: normal wizards and normal muggles. He had never met such an amazing person before. He really cherished their friendship and would do anything to keep it. Before that, the only person he had really cared about was his sister. They spent a lot of time playing together. But then they got into different houses at Hogwarts. She became a Hufflepuff – entered the house of the weak. During her last year at school she became addicted to cheering and mood-enhancing potions. He knew by then that he had lost her. She became aggressive, destroyed her life almost completely, dropped off school and disappeared. And then, one day she came back home saying she was a homosexual and in love with some mudblood. At that time John believed that his father would have a heart attack. They had a big fight and she left home. John thought that she had made the greatest mistake of her life. Now looking back, he thought than maybe she actually had made a better decision than he had.

After that they meet only once: when John was running away to the muggle world. Harry gave him a mobile phone, some clothes and explained a few basic things about living as a muggle. He hadn't thanked her. He hadn't apologized. Just wished her happiness. Sometimes he wondered if she found it. Or maybe they both were cursed and there was no hope for them.

His life really got complicated. During the reign of the Dark Lord, things had been much simpler. It had been easy to hate and torture and kill the unknown. He had been feed the hatred toward muggles since childhood. The muggles were just cruel savages in his mind. When he killed them he thought that it was "us or them" situation. He believed that sooner or later they would attack wizards again. It was better to remove the danger. But it was futile. It never was possible to kill all the muggles. He also used to hate mudbloods and muggle lovers. He had believed them to betray the ways of wizards. He still thought it was true in some ways. But what he thought about the matter now wasn't important. He was no longer a part of the wizarding world. He had different life now. Life with Sherlock Holmes. Life full of mysteries, dangers, running around London and blog writing. He was content and didn't want to lose that.

John didn't know how long was he standing in front of the graves. It was dark and cold, but he seemed to not notice that. Only a buzzing of his mobile phone brought him back from his trip to the past. It was a text from Mycroft.

There is a car waiting for you in front of the gate.

MH

John stared at his phone. He wasn't surprised than Mycroft knew where he was. What surprised him was the amount of time he spent there. It was already 11 PM. Several hours passed like nothing. John sighed and pocketed his phone. He was more calm now and less afraid of a confrontation with Sherlock. He slowly walked back to the gate and got into the black car that was waiting for him. As he was riding the car, his mind became completely empty. He thought about nothing, just stated at the shops, people and lights he passed. He was calm and ready to face the world. Because Sherlock was his world and nothing was going to change that.

Once he arrived he noticed lights in the windows of his flat. Sherlock was probably waiting for him in the living room. Mycroft most likely had already left. There was not use stalling any longer, so John quickly walked up the stairs and entered the flat.

Sherlock was sitting on the sofa in almost the same way he was sitting when John left hours earlier. John took off his jacket and approached him. He sat on the other sofa and faced his friend.

"Sherlock…" He began.

"Is it on your left inner forearm?" The man spoke to John for the first time since the visit of the Death Eaters. John blinked confusedly.

"You mean the…" He started but once again Sherlock interrupted him.

"The tattoo." The detective explained shorty.

"Yes, it's there." John grabbed his left arm and squeezed it. Why was Sherlock asking about that of all things?

"Show me." Sherlock's eyes shone with intensity. The man most likely wouldn't take no for an answer. John wondered if his friend would go as far as to use force if he were to decline. But the wizard wasn't going to refuse the request. He sighed heavily and rolled up his sleeve. It was bare, of course. Sherlock stared intensively at it, but he couldn't see anything. John carefully took his wand and pointed it at his left forearm.

"Finite Incantatem." He whispered. He noticed that Sherlock was moving his lips silently to repeat the incantation. Then he jumped closer to John startling the wizard.

"Fascinating. It's moving. It has faded after the death of that Lord Vader, yes?" John snorted.

"Lord Voldemort." He corrected but it seemed that Sherlock wasn't listening. He was still staring intensively at the Mark. Then he suddenly grabbed John's arm and traced the snake with his fingers. He tried poking the tattooed animal, and then pinched the skin where the skull was engraved.

"Ow!" John yelped in pain taking back his hand and massaging the sore spot.

"Mycroft said that it is more than a symbol of the Lord Vladimir." John rolled his eyes. Only Sherlock would mock the name of the most feared Dark Lord of the century.

"It used to be. Now it is just a faded tattoo. Nothing more. And it's Voldemort, not Vladimir." John explained in a flat voice.

"What is a Kiss?" Sherlock changed topic so fast that John actually needed a moment to understand what his friend is actually asking about.

"A Kiss? Oh, a Dementor's Kiss. Dementor is a dark creature that feeds upon human happiness. They can eat people's souls. That is the Kiss. If one were to Kiss you, you would be an empty shell. Your soul would be gone forever. You would be alive, but it would be more like a permanent vegetative state." Sherlock nodded in understanding muttering to himself. It seemed that this information was worthy being placed in his mind palace.

"Okay." Sherlock said in the end and became quiet. John stared at him with open mouth.

"That's it? You have no more questions? Nothing to say? To be angry about?" John asked disbelievingly.

"I know all I need to for now. I would like you to show me a few spells and I'd like to run a few experiments on you and your wand, but Mycroft informed me that you are being tracked and it would be best to avoid excessively using magic till the danger passes." John nodded in understanding.

"And what do you want me to say? Of course it came as a shock to me. There are things that I believed to be not real, I knew they weren't real and now they suddenly are. I need to reorganize my mind palace, my way of thinking and looking at things. There is so much new data that the procedure is going to take me weeks, if not even months." Sherlock kept talking excitedly.

"I am certainly going to ask you many question. So many questions, but not yet. I first need to reorganize my mind. I can't get distracted by some silly details." Sherlock stood up and started to walk around the room.

"And of course I am angry. What was that I kept saying all the time? That you should observe and not just see. And look how stupid I was. It was actually me who was not observing. I am a fool, John. I am angry with myself and will be for some time." John quickly stood up and grabbed his friend's arm.

"Listen, Sherlock you aren't the fool. You're the last person that could be called that. Muggles…. Not-magical people generally don't see magic. Well, they see it, but unless they know or believe it is real, they won't see it for what it really is."

"I still should have been able to…" Sherlock started but John interrupted him.

"You are a man of science. Probably at the early age you had stopped believing in supernatural and that is perfectly normal." Sherlock frowned.

"It was a mistake I made. I was told magic isn't real, so I believed it. I didn't even try to see whether it was the truth or not. And yet you call me a man of science. What a joke." John's heart broke a little when he saw his friend's anguish.

"I don't think you would be able to prove the magic was real on your own." John explained. "Wizards generally keep away from muggles. The glimpses of magic you would witness would probably be gone without a trace before you started examining them." Sherlock didn't seem convinced but he calmed down. His gaze turned towards the sofas.

"Are they going to stay?" He asked. John shook his head.

"The spell would wear off in time and those don't look good here anyway." He waved his wand and the sofas returned to their original shape. Two armchairs stood in the living room as if nothing happened to them.

"Aren't you concerned that the magic you perform will bring here the magical police?" Sherlock asked looking a bit worried, but mostly curious.

"Simple spells are so weak that they don't leave a trace. The aurors won't find me if I use those." Sherlock's eyes shone.

"Interesting."