A/N: So I am posting this a bit later than I had planned, but here it is. I have gone in to the first chapter and adjusted the chapter title, to help better reflect the timeline in the story.
The chapter is not beta edited, just revised by yours truly, so any and all mistakes are mine. Enjoy~
Harry started at his name and Bishop sneezed, in what he thought sounded like derision, while Mycroft stood there looking quite pleased with himself.
"You have quite an interesting file there, Mycroft."
"Quite, Mister Potter. My question?"
"Sherlock isn't involved with wizards if that's what you're asking."
"Your agreement then?"
"Sherlock starting coming to the homeless for help, small jobs that take advantage of people not paying attention." Harry rubbed his eye, his hand pausing for but a second to push up the glasses that no longer sat on his nose. "When I went to see him about it we agreed that any of the more dangerous tasks would come to me. I'm trying to keep these people healthy and safe, to the best of my ability anyway. So if there's nothing else Mister Holmes."
"Just another small matter." Mycroft flipped through the file. "I would be interested in discussing your employment."
"I'm not employed."
"Yes, I can see that. I'm afraid you've misunderstand. I would like to employ you." Mycroft stated blandly. "For your, unique, skill set."
"Skill set..."
"Yes, all your documentation will be taken care of and your services will be well compensated for. All with approval from the Crown, of course."
"You asked the Queen to get me a job?"
"A problem?"
"No, but I don't need the money."
"Excellent. Cynthia will deliver all the necessary paperwork tomorrow, if you'd be so kind as to sign it, and your official documents with be delivered by the end of the week."
"I won't have to kill anybody will I? Tends to be frowned about where I'm from."
"Tends to be frowned upon in most places, Mister Potter. Good day." Mycroft smirked and turned towards the exit, umbrella swinging at his side with each step.
"Did you hear me? I'm not looking to be paid!" Harry yelled at Mycroft's retreating form.
Harry had been making his rounds and was heading towards the shelter Willow was staying in tonight when he wandered to close to the main street. A voice stood out from the others quite clearly. Someone was calling for Potter. Harry resisted the urge to turn around and quickened his pace in hopes that he could get back off the main drag and into the shadows. Maybe he was just over reacting, but better safe than sorry.
"Harry! Harry Potter!"
Harry eyed the alley only a few feet away and slipped through a crowd of muggles hoping to confuse his follower. About halfway down the alley a hand fell on his shoulder and Harry reacted. In a few quick moves Harry had the person pressed against an alley wall, and really wished he hadn't just started training Bishop to stay at home.
"Whoa, easy. Didn't mean to startle you, honest. Thought you couldn't hear me was all. Blimey it really is you Harry." The man rambled with a nervous lilt in his voice.
Harry studied the man closely, easing his grip and backing down the alley a bit to put space between them. "You are?"
"Don't you remember Harry, Hufflepuff, dueling club. My name is Justin…"
"Finch-Fletchley." Harry interrupted. "You didn't come back after the war."
"No, no I didn't. Left with that whole muggle-born registration shit going on. Convinced my parents I needed to catch up on my muggle education, was better than telling them the truth. Mother had been so pleased to have a wizard in the family." Justin looked back out towards the street. "Didn't have the heart to tell her with all that was going on I might not be much of a wizard soon enough.
"When word had reached me that You-Know-Who had been defeated, well going back never really crossed my mind. If they could put people like me through that once, we both know they'd try it again. Went to America for a couple of years, bit more progressive there. Was able to fulfill my education requirements so when I came back no one could question me over my wand. "Heard you'd disappeared. Never expected to run in to you out here of all places."
Harry's mobile started to buzz in his pocket, Mycroft had probably been watching, the bastard.
"Sorry, Justin. A moment." Harry turned to the side and reached in his pocket to pull out the phone. "Yes?"
"Are you in need of assistance Mister Potter?" Not-Cynthia's voice filtered through the phone.
"Not at the moment, thank you for inquiring. Good-bye."
"Mister Potter." Not-Cynthia quipped before Harry could hang up. "Mister Holmes would like to be assured of your safety."
"Oh, just put the bastard on already." Harry could hear a minute shuffle.
"Good afternoon, Harry. All is well I hope?"
"You've been watching me."
"Surely you don't believe this is a new arrangement."
"Everything's fine." Harry sighed. "Except, maybe, for the headache I can feel coming on. Good day, My."
Harry snapped the phone shut.
"Boyfriend?" Justin asked with a grin.
"Possibly soon to be ex-boyfriend." Harry replied with a grin.
"Well, I've got to get going, and again sorry about grabbing you like that."
"Don't worry about, though I wouldn't recommend trying it again. Yeah?"
"Deal." Justin held out his hand.
Harry shook Justin's hand and watched Justin walk back out into the street, disappearing among the masses.
The hairs on Harry's neck raised, it was the third time this week it had happened and he was starting to think he was being stalked. He just hoped it wasn't someone Mycroft had hired, if so the person needed to be fired as soon as possible. The game of cat and mouse needed to end, and Harry was done being the mouse.
He emerged from an alley and walked casually through a crowded street, easily slipping through the throngs of people. Harry could feel someone getting closer. He gripped the mobile Mycroft had sent him in his right hand, contemplating his exit strategy. Harry flips the phone open and sent a short one word text, counted to thirty, turned down another alley and disaparated.
"Bishop?" Mycroft inquires, eyebrow raised.
"Figured you would figure it out." Harry states taking in Mycroft's office.
"My understanding was that you needed to visit or see a place before you can apparate there."
"Always been a bit of a rule breaker." Harry shrugged and came to stand in front of Mycroft's desk.
Mycroft rubbed his eyes.
"Headache?"
"Constantly."
"Having me followed?"
Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but did not look up from the documents in front of him. "Watched."
"Good, I was worried your standards had dropped."
Mycroft looked up, but Harry was already gone.
Harry could feel the approaching storm and it made his skin itch. If only he could he could predict the weather as well as he could predict fate abandoning him. Well, to be fair, he probably relied on magic a bit too much when it came to the weather.
Harry stood in the warehouse Mycroft had had him brought, he hoped Mycroft didn't mind him borrowing it. His stalker had become more persistent and Harry hadn't wanted whatever was coming disturbing the place he called home.
"Mrow."
"You were supposed to stay home. Do I dare ask how you got all the way out here?" Harry asked the cat exasperatedly.
Bishop was about a year old now, by Harry's best guess and weighed about three kilograms. Harry hadn't been able to purchase a book on magical breeds of cats, but he guessed that the magical breeding was what helped keep Bishop's coat untangled and clean. The cat was able to hunt and provide most of the food he ate with Harry just supplementing his diet.
Bishop walked over and began weaving himself in and out between Harry's legs, purring quite loudly. Harry picked the cat up on his next pass in front of him and brought Bishop up to eye level.
"It's dangerous to be here right now."
Bishop laid a paw on his nose and Harry chuckled at his familiar's antics. "You going to run and get help if this goes badly?"
Bishop hissed and twisted out of Harry's grip, launching himself towards to the ground. He landed with a soft thud and he twitched his tail agitatedly.
"Should I leave my phone out for you then?"
Bishop eyed Harry distastefully and began to pace in front of him.
Harry squatted down. "My sarcasm isn't appreciated I see. Just promise me you'll keep safe. Don't want anything to happen to you, my little beast."
Bishop chirruped excitedly.
Two loud cracks of apparation startled the peace.
Ron and Hermione looked much the same as they had six years ago. Hermione stood across the warehouse with a large grin and a look of relief on her face. She was dressed in a more traditional Wizarding wardrobe, the hood of her cloak lifted and haloing her long hair. Ron had a scowl on his face and wore a traditional Weasley jumper and slacks. He gripped Hermione's hand tightly when she started towards Harry and Harry thought he could see a bump under Hermione's clothes. The cold glare she turned on her husband amused him greatly.
Harry stood and allowed the two to scrutinize his appearance. He had shaved this morning and dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, adding his light jacket on top of his shirt, half zipped. His trainers had seen better days, but were still functional and there wasn't anyone to impress in his day to day life so it worked for him. Bishop never complained.
The cat, as if hearing Harry's musings, twitched an ear in his direction.
"Harry!" Hermione called, dragging Ron behind her as she came closer. "It's been too long. Look at you, you could do with a few of Molly's meals."
Ron pulled Hermione to a stop a few feet away, not giving under the glare she gave him this time.
"Hello Hermione," Harry acknowledged. "Ron. It's been a while."
"Oh, Ronald. Stop being ridiculous." Hermione raised their hands. "Unhand me this instant, I want to give Harry a hug."
"He could be dangerous Hermione, we don't know what he has been doing all these years." Ron whined before whispering loudly in Hermione's direction. "We don't know how stable he is."
"No more dangerous or unstable than I am going to be if you don't release my hand right this moment Ronald Bilius Weasley."
Ron dropped Hermione's hand like it had burned him, and watching Hermione's ire rise, it may have. Hermione gave her husband one last glance before rushing the last few feet between Harry and herself and throwing her arms around him. "I've missed you so much Harry."
Hermione's hug brought back a nostalgia Harry he wasn't quite comfortable with. "Hey there, Hermione." Harry's eyes lifted to see Ron still glaring and turning an interesting shade of red.
Hermione pulled back to get a better look at Harry. "Having you been eating well enough Harry? You look a bit pale and thin."
"I eat well enough, Hermione. You're looking radiant though. A brother or sister for Rose?"
Hermione laughed brightly and released him, hands going down to her distended stomach. "A boy this time we hope. Rose already has two younger sisters to terrorize. Emmaline who is four, Elizabeth who just turned two, and Rose turns six next month. Rosie, Emmie, and Lizzy." Hermione had taken out a picture and pointed to each other girls.
"That's amazing Hermione, really. You and Ron make beautiful children."
"Mmm. This is going to be our last, though. Four little terrorists will be enough." Hermione giggled and Harry smiled at her.
"Unless, it's another girl." Ron added.
"We aren't trying for a boy Ronald." Hermione snapped.
Harry transfigured a couple of chairs from some of the scraps of metal in one of the corners of the warehouse. "Here, Hermione sit down."
"Mrow."
Harry watched as Bishop jumped into the seat Harry was going to sit in leaving Harry having to pick Bishop up and settled him on his lap.
"This is Bishop, by the way. My familiar…I think."
Hermione reached out and ran a hand down Bishop's back. "He's gorgeous Harry. Where'd you get him?"
"Rescued him last December. Found him in a box behind a church."
Ron reluctantly sat in the last open seat after moving the chair closer to Hermione and reclaiming her hand.
"Do you know what breed he is?" Hermione inquired, patting Ron's clasped hand.
"No, I keep meaning to get a book, but the opportunity hasn't arisen yet."
"So what are you doing with yourself now Harry?"
"I work with the homeless. Knowing a little muggle first aid can go a long way."
"That's wonderful, Harry."
"You know, he'd be more amazing if Harry would invite us back to his place, instead of making you sit in this dingy building." Ron quipped.
"Ron!" Hermione snapped back.
Harry looked Ron in the eyes and pointedly replied. "You bring up and interesting point Ron, seeing as how I don't live here and yet here you two are."
"Really, Ronald. I don't know why I let you come with me. We were having a perfectly decent conversation and you had to go and bring that up."
"As if Harry doesn't already know Hermione. He's been spotted all over London, surely he lives near here." Ron grumbled. "Probably still even gets the Prophet."
"So, Harry wanted to meet on neutral ground, with the attitude you've brought, Ron, I can't say I'm surprised."
"As amusing as all this is, just what in the hell are you two talking about?" Harry interrupted.
"The column on the Prophet Harry, that was created after the story was run on you. No one had seen or heard from you in six years, so when the story came out well…" Hermione trailed off.
"People started stalking me?"
"Well, not stalking you I'm sure, but, maybe…keeping an eye out?" Hermione tried to reason. "Some people likened it to when you were a kid."
Bishop began to purr, lightly kneading into Harry's leg.
"People stalked me when I was a kid?"
Hermione looked unsure and said. "Stalking is such a dirty word, Harry."
"A dirty word for a dirty act I suppose. I can't recall the exact definition of stalking, but constantly following someone around and watching them from a distance when it isn't appreciated I think falls somewhere in there."
"I told you he would be unreasonable Hermione, never could appreciate what he had."
Harry opened his mouth and then decided against speaking. Ron had always been like this and Harry didn't know why he though adulthood would change Ron any.
Hermione looked at Harry and then Ron and sighed, rubbing her stomach. "So, where are you living Harry? Did you decide to attend muggle university?"
"Your stalkers didn't figure it out?" Harry asked coldly. "Can't say I am surprised, though. If they watched me as a kid and couldn't put two and two together about the Dursley's, why expect any different now?"
"Well, some did note they could never spot you coming or going from any one particular house or flat." Hermione whispered.
"Well then, let me let you in on the little secret your spies missed." Harry hissed. "I live on the streets Hermione and I think I'd like to know more about this article in the Prophet."
"The streets, Harry? You're homeless?!"
Ron chuckled darkly while his wife just looked scandalized.
"The article?"
"Oh, um." Hermione adjusted her dress while trying to compose herself. "It was done anonymously, about two weeks ago. Someone went to the prophet and said they had seen you on the street in London. Mentioned you were using a mobile and had a job of some sort. Thought you might be living in London. The column started two days later when all the confirmed sightings started coming in."
Harry abruptly stood, knocking Bishop off his lap. "That damn Hufflepuff."
"Who was it?"
"So you can tell the Prophet?"
"Harry! We are your friends. You don't think we'd actually do something like that?" Hermione studied the look he leveled at her. "Do you?"
"You used the Prophet to track me down didn't you?"
"We were worried! You just disappeared!"
"You only wanted me around to be some sort of stud for your goddamn blood line games!"
Ron stood from his seat. "Oi! Don't talk to my wife like that. She deserves more respect than that mate."
"And I don't deserve yours?!"
Ron pulled his wand down from inside his left sleeve and gripped it tightly.
Hermione looked startled by the action. "Ronald, put your wand away this instant!"
"He isn't to be trusted Hermione. I'm not risking you or the baby. Just because his soulmate doesn't want him, doesn't mean I'm risking mine. You've seen the papers and publishing's. People like him are dangerous." Ron stated with a sense of finality in his voice.
Harry stood perfectly still and focused on Hermione, keeping his eyes away from the wand pointed at him.
"I don't know where our paths diverged Hermione," Harry started, keeping his voice and breathing even. "but that night you and the rest of the Weasley's put the world right back on my shoulders. I'd only just gotten it off.
"I spent, from the time I entered the Wizarding World until the time I left it, my life fighting an evil no one person should be burdened with. I faced things in school that full grown adults would and did struggle with. I should have died a number of times, during the school year, on school grounds. I, blindly, accepted all of this. I didn't have anyone to point out the wrong in all of this. I wish that maybe Sirius could have, but the effects of Azkaban left their toll on his mind and body, and while none of the adults fought for his rights, I couldn't.
"Then I actually died, Hermione. I walked into that forest and died. I'm not saying it was a cake walk for you or anyone else during those years, but I can't understand why you would insist putting me into a situation where I'm left without choices once again. Where there is only one path left to me to walk. You said you wanted me to be happy Hermione. That night. I think you meant you only wanted me to be happy on your terms though. On everyone else's terms, but my own." Harry finished, throat constricted and eyes feeling a bit wet.
Hermione dabbed at her own eyes and started to cry. "This is what makes you happy, though, Harry? Being homeless? Living away from us? We love you so much Harry."
"I think that, in your own way, you do love me Hermione, but I find that a bit hard to believe from your husband there. You found what you want to do in life, the thing that makes you most happy." Harry looked down at his hands. "I'm still trying to figure it out, but I've found something to keep me occupied in the meantime. Living on the streets isn't all that bad Hermione, not easy, but not bad. Plus, I take on a few…odd jobs, now and again."
"Mrow." Bishop rubbed up against Harry's legs.
"There's Bishop too." Harry chuckled and took out his mobile, sending out a one word text. "Come on boy, I think it's time to leave."
Bishop jumped up into Harry's arms. "It was good to see you again Hermione. Give your girls a kiss for me. Maybe, the next time we meet will be under better circumstances."
Harry turned and disapparated.
Mycroft didn't lift his head when Harry arrived this time. Bishop jumped down from his arms and began inspecting the new room.
"Meeting didn't go well?" Mycroft asked, shuffling a few papers and looking up at Harry then down at the floor, eyes zeroing in on Bishop. "Why is that filthy beast in my office?"
"Bishop is hardly filthy or a beast."
Mycroft looked wary. "Yvonne told me what he did in the car."
"Not-Cynthia is a tattle tale and Bishop didn't ruin anything in your car, and he most definitely isn't going to ruin anything here. He's my familiar, Mycroft, and of some sort of magical breed, I doubt you'll even find any cat hair when we leave."
Bishop proceeded to prove Harry wrong by spraying the plant by Mycroft's door. Harry put his head in his hands and sighed. Mycroft just watched the scene unfold, face blank.
"Also, for your information, no, the meeting didn't go well. Sort of hoping you'd have a job for me actually."
"Did you have anything in particular in mind?"
"How about something with a beach, would be nice to get away for a while."
Mycroft smirked. "What are your thoughts on Peru?"
Five days later, Harry found himself sitting in first class on a plane to Peru. Mycroft had put together a file detailing Harry's assignment. The gist of it being, an up and coming politician in Peru had his plays in government lined up and under his carefully crafted control. His daughter, not so much. At sixteen years old, Maria, was constantly running away and undermining her parent's, perceived, authority. This had made her an easy target and six days ago she had been kidnapped. A single ransom note sent to her parents that had gone along the lines of have the cash ready and overturn the progress of a bill in ten days, or else. The locals were making no progress, corruption in the inner working of the law enforcement was suspected.
Harry was being sent to locate the girl and scout the area where she was being kept. He would then report back to Mycroft who, working in conjunction with local authorities, would send a team in for retrieval. Harry had zoned out a bit during the briefing, so he didn't know or remember how or why Mycroft's work fit into all this, but upon completion of the job Harry was getting fourteen days in paradise, all expenses paid.
As Harry walked out of the airport and into the humid Peruvian air his mobile began to ring. "Mycroft?"
"Your animal had cried incessantly at the door to my study for the last twenty hours."
"How did you know…You know what never mind. You could try petting him, you know." Harry chuckled. "Wait, are you hiding from him on your study?"
"I am trying to work." Mycroft quipped.
"For twenty hours? You did feed him right?"
"Vivian has been put in charge of seeing to his…needs."
"Like petting him? I don't think Not-Cynthia likes him very much." Harry can hear the sounds of shuffle and the click of a door. "Mycroft? Put me on speaker."
"Mrow! Mroooooow!"
"Hey Bishop, are you giving Mycroft a hard time?"
Harry could hear Bishop jump up on the desk and begin to purr. "Sorry I had to leave you buddy, but you're going to have to cut Mycroft some slack. I'm going to talk to Mycroft now, but you be good and I'll be home in two weeks."
"You don't seriously believe her can understand you."
"What's he doing right now?" Harry asked as he arranged for a cab.
"He is sprawled across my desk, purring."
"Well pick him up and head to bed, big day tomorrow. Talk to you then." Harry stated snapping the phone shut.
Before a cab could arrive, a sleek black car pulled up in front of Harry and the driver stepped out. "Mister Black?"
A sheen of sweat dotted Harry's brow as he approached the dilapidated building, a few point me spells and a little instinct had led Harry here. He eyed the building and grimaced at the sinking feeling in his stomach. Something wasn't right. Harry apparated to the roof and wandlessly opened the rooftop door. The inside of the building was luxurious, he noted, as he glanced around from the rooftop entry. Harry cautiously backed out of the building and walked about the edges, spotting a sun roof that looked down into one of the rooms.
The girl, Maria, was standing in front of a board, writing in what appeared to be Spanish. She turned to talk to the other person in the room and Harry caught sight of her eyes. Harry slipped into her mind to get a handle on the situation.
"Shit." He muttered, pulling out his mobile. "We've got a situation."
"Is she dead?"
"Worse, she's not a hostage."
"Explain."
"She's in what looks to be the war room and she isn't alone, there's a man with her. I can't read what the writing says, but I can read her surface thoughts. She's helping them, whoever this group is, take down her father. It's why her parents were given so much time for the deadline."
"She isn't being coerced."
"The man is her age, son of someone in this group. He loves her, but he didn't force her here. This looks to have been her idea from the start. I'd say she is manipulating them, not the other way around."
"Proceed to the extraction point. A car will be waiting to take you to your resort."
Harry bit his tongue, wanting to ask questions that weren't in his job description to ask. "Understood."
Harry saw that his mobile was buzzing as he exited the shower. Walking around the bed he answered it. "Yes, Mycroft?"
"You owe me another plant."
Harry sighed, dropped the towel from around his waist and laid back on the bed. "You are petting him and feeding him right? Letting him sleep with you? How hard could it possibly be to take care my cat?"
"He is not normal."
"I'm not normal, but we manage to get on. Seriously, stop foisting him off on Not-Cynthia and spend a little time with him, maybe then you won't keep losing plants." Harry could hear Mycroft readjust the phone. "Shouldn't you be in bed."
"I am in bed."
"Imagine that, I am too."
"Seriously, Mycroft, what could my cat have possibly done now?" Harry asked, popping the last bit of his bagel into his mouth.
"Do you always talk with your mouth full?"
"That's for me to know and you to, er, wait…" Harry back peddled.
Mycroft ignored Harry's slip. "I was calling to inquire as to whether or not your package arrived."
"Oh, yea, the rain coats. Thanks actually. I was planning on going out tomorrow, but with all this rain, well, being out around muggles makes water repellent charms impossible to use. So thanks."
"You are welcome, Harry."
"I picked up some books today, they had a larger selection of English novels than I expected, isn't exactly how I expected to spend my beach paradise vacation, but getting away is getting away. How are things on your end?"
"A minor mishap in Liberia, but it has been handled. The paperwork it generated though…"
"I apologize for missing your call, Persephone alerted me the moment I had left that dreadful meeting."
"No problem, I was just…well, I found a local wizarding village and I got a bit excited and I wanted to tell someone, so I called you…" Harry rambled. "Sounds a bit mad though now, saying it out loud. Sorry for calling and interrupting, I know you're busy."
"Tell me about this village." Mycroft said, sounding interested. "Did you get recognized?"
"No, it was great. Huh, I didn't really think about that. Do you thing I should go out in disguise like back home? The people were all really friendly though. Most spoke at least a little English and the food is amazing, I had lunch at this little restaurant near the entrance…"
Harry shot straight up out of his bed, wand in hand, pointed right for the intruder chest. Mycroft's chest. "Mycroft? What?" Harry searched the room for in confusion. "I didn't miss my flight or something did I? Wait, my flight isn't for another four days. Why are you here in the middle of the night? What happened?
Mycroft walked over to Harry's bed and sat down, he looked down trodden and world weary. "I need to enlist in your…help."
"Yea, I mean sure, right away. What is it? What brought you all the way out here for me?"
"I could not say anything over the phone."
"Even with as secure as your lines are?"
Mycroft nodded. "Sherlock is missing, Harry."
"How long?" Harry asked as they walked out onto the tarmac, towards the private airplane.
"Right after you left to come here." Mycroft responded, his voice strained.
Harry gave Mycroft an indignant look. "All those phone conversations and you never once thought to tell me to come back. I happen to care greatly for your brother and your just now telling me he is missing."
"Sherlock drops off the grid sometimes. A day here, two of three there. Never this long though."
"You two are going to fix this after we find him Mycroft. You're grown adults, acting like children does not become of either of you."
Mycroft grimaced as they boarded the plane and sat down, Harry sighed. "I'm not asking you to change Mycroft, the relationship you and your brother have, is just that, yours, but a little communication between the two of you is necessary. Especially, in the kind of work you both are in. Look, I apologize for snapping, yeah? Let's just focus on what we have to work with and finding your brother." Harry reached out and laid his hand on Mycroft's arm.
Mycroft met his concerned stare. "Intelligence reported that Sherlock was last seen two Mondays ago…"
Landing in Heathrow nearly twenty hours later, Harry had endured more awkward silence than he thought he could stand for a lifetime. Mycroft didn't have much to go on, but thankfully Harry wouldn't need much. He knew one thing for sure, Sherlock wasn't dead, just lost. Mycroft, for all his stony faced stares and closed off attitude, was obviously distraught. It was painful for Harry to see.
"Go home Mycroft. No listen," Harry continued as Mycroft looked to interrupt. "go home. I'm going to find him Mycroft and we both know your brother isn't the type to go to the hospital willingly. So, I'm going to bring him home. Go have a room made up and try not to worry too much. Trust me?"
Harry's search brought him to an abandoned building that looked too much like the building Harry called home, for his comfort. Walking inside, the smell of urine and vomit assaulted his nose, this wasn't a place Harry had been to before or ever wanted to return to. Bodies, some alive, some not, laid out against the walls and corners. Old mattresses, ratted blankets, and garbage strewn about. As Harry ventured further into the building he finally spotted his mark. Sherlock was leaned up against a wall to Harry's right, eyes gazed over, needle between his fingers.
Sherlock had relapsed.
Carrying the consulting detective's far to light body into Mycroft's home was by far the hardest thing Harry had had to do in his life. He had had to sedate Sherlock to move him and now Sherlock slept soundly in his arms.
"Put him here." Mycroft whispered, appearing at Harry's side and leading him into one of the bedrooms.
"I don't know what he took, but I had to place a sleeping charm on him, he's stronger than he looks."
Mycroft nodded and walked over to a side door, letting two more people in. "I've hired them to see to Sherlock. He will be seen to here."
"Good, that's good."
Mycroft took in Harry's weary form. "Perhaps you should get some rest."
"Yea, call me and let me know how he is. I'll go find Bishop and head home. Take care of him, Mycroft."
Mycroft nodded.
"Take care of yourself as well."
Harry was glad to be home, he had stopped to check in on several people during his walk and had been welcomed back most enthusiastically. After having mended a broken bone, laceration, and put some salve on a couple of burns, Harry was ready to collapse into bed. Bishop had insisted on being carried the entire way home. Chattering and purring, making his displeasure at having been left for so long known.
"How about we stop and see Willow tomorrow, I can tell you both about my trip." Harry murmured into Bishops fur, stretching out on his padded bit of stone flooring. "Come one you little beast, let's get some sleep."
Bishop seemed inclined to agree, slipping underneath the blanket and curling up along Harry's chest.
The next morning Harry woke up to an older woman stopping by for a burn. He would need to make some more salve, winter was always the worst in so many ways for people that lived on the streets, but burns were frequent and dangerous.
After helping the woman, Harry fed Bishop and packed up his bag. When Bishop finished eating they headed out to find Willow. When she wasn't in any of her usual places, Harry started asking around and found her in the last place he would have thought to look, a church.
"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes. How was your trip, dearie?" Willow remarked wrapping him up in a hug.
Walking up the steps of Mycroft's home on Christmas Eve, Harry hummed a coral he had heard on the walk over. Arriving at the door, Harry contemplated knocking and had just decided to let himself in when the door was ripped open in front of him, startling Bishop.
"Tell my brother to stop being insufferable, he listens to you."
"Hello to you to Sherlock, why yes I would love to come in, lovely weather we're having." Harry answered playfully. "You do know you're not wearing any clothes right?"
"Mycroft took my sheet." Sherlock answered as if it made all the sense in the world.
"Well, let me in before you catch cold and we'll see what we can do about your brother."
Sherlock watched Harry for a moment before stepping aside and allowing Harry and Bishop entrance. The foyer of Mycroft's home seemed a bit, disgruntled, more than likely reflecting the attitude of its master, you didn't need magic for your home to have a personality. Harry walked down the sparsely decorated halls, following the feeling of where Mycroft was located, Sherlock trailed him sullenly. Pushing open the door to Mycroft's study open with his paws Bishop slinked over to Mycroft's desk, before jumping up and sitting in the middle of Mycroft's paper work.
"Your beast is in my way."
"You Holmes' have such a way with greetings. Good evening Mycroft, I've brought you a gift and have come in search of Sherlock's sheet."
"My brother can either get dressed or not, it's no business of mine, but his sheet will not be returned to him a moment before."
Harry took a deep breath, leveling a look at Mycroft. "Bishop, why don't you go help Sherlock find his sheet?"
Bishop walked to the edge of the desk and stood on his back legs to lean against Harry. Bishop patted Harry's cheek with his paw and jumped down and walked out of the room. Sherlock followed with a curious look on his face.
"You really took his sheet?"
Mycroft pointedly did not answer.
"He looks to be doing better."
"Six weeks is hardly a testament of how well he is doing." Mycroft answered in a clipped tone.
"I'm starting to think I shouldn't have left, or maybe at least come back sooner." Harry responded, sitting down on the edge of Mycroft's desk.
"I am perfectly capable of caring for my own brother."
"You took his sheet, Mycroft. I'm not doubting your ability to take care of him. Just your sanity after having cared for him for six weeks straight on a daily basis. Your both so stubborn."
Mycroft sighed and rested his head in his hands. "It was awful."
"As bad as last time?"
"I don't know, last time I had him sent away."
"Do you know what happened? What triggered it? I don't speak with Sherlock often, but he did explain a bit to me about his deal with the Detective Inspector."
"A case."
"Not one from the Yard, right?"
"No, one he took on himself. Ended up too close to a drug lord, or so he says."
"You don't believe him?"
Mycroft lifted his head. "I believe that it is only a half truth."
"He does look much improved, Mycroft. Seems to be up to his usually antics. When he opened the door I flashed back to the first time I met him for a moment."
"You said you brought me a gift?"
"I'll let our conversation slide for the moment and yes, I brought you a plant." Harry grinned and passed the small plant to Mycroft.
"Aloe Vera."
"I thought it fitting."
Mycroft laughed and Harry thought it sounded magical.
"I thought you said he knew about magic." Harry hissed. He had taken upon himself to decorate Mycroft's sitting and dining room and cook a Christmas Eve dinner to share with the Holmes'. Harry had finished the sitting room and was almost done with the dining room when Sherlock had wandered in, sans sheet, but instead dressed in his usual attire. Sherlock had glanced at the wreath Harry was attempting to affix to the wall, levitating it into spot with his wand, eyes widening before backing out of the room. A slam of the door could be heard originating from Mycroft's office a moment later.
"It would appear that he deleted the information." Mycroft answered casually.
"So his following Bishop wasn't because he had recognized my familiar for what he is."
Mycroft made a noncommittal noise from the chair he had sat in to read the newspaper, the corner of his mouth raised just a hair.
"Well, I'm glad you find it amusing. He scared the right piss out of me when he came storming back in here. Firing questions left and right, my cat tucked up under one arm and a journal being waved around in the other."
"So, he found it then."
"I just hope he doesn't hurt him."
"I'm sure your cat will be just fine."
"I wasn't worried about my cat."
Mycroft lowered his paper and stared at Harry searchingly. "Perhaps, I should go and locate my brother."
Harry made a noncommittal noise in return.
As they sat around the fire in Mycroft's sitting room, Harry pondered where he had been ten years ago and where he was now. The Holmes' were a right handful, no doubt about it, but sitting and listening to them bicker back and forth, it became apparent just how much they cared about each other. He had spent his Christmas ten years ago mourning his godfather, this Christmas was looking much brighter in comparison. Bishop was curled up on Mycroft's lap, Sherlock was wrapped up in a sheet, over his clothes, and Mycroft looked less stressed than he had in all time Harry had known him.
Harry was glad he had struck out on his own and that his path had brought him here.
On New Year's Eve, Harry extracted a promise from Bishop not to leave the house and proceeded to drag Mycroft and Sherlock out into the cold London night. He aparated them both to the alley he had spent every New Year's Eve in and promptly sat down on the ground, applying a warming charm below him. Mycroft and Sherlock both gave him looks that obviously questioned his sanity.
"I've spent every New Year's Eve here, watching the fireworks. It's where Not-Cynthia found me last year. Don't look at me like that. You both shared your Christmas with me. Allow me to share my New Year's Eve with you." Harry pleaded. "It's just for a bit and it won't kill you."
Sherlock looked at Mycroft challengingly and sat down next to Harry. Mycroft joined them a moment later.
"Thank you." Harry whispered, lowering his head on to his knees. "There's a lot I wish I could share with you, but I can't, not right now. It wouldn't be safe, but this has been my tradition since I left and I thought that maybe since I can't share the rest of it with you right now, I could share this."
Harry missed the look Sherlock and Mycroft shared.
