Grimmauld place was the one part of the Wizarding World that didn't make Holmes shudder. He could relax here, safe in the knowledge that no one was going to intrude on his thoughts; unless Dumbledore chose to show up. Holmes was becoming increasingly aware of the headmaster's ability to peer into his mind, and although he knew it was far beyond his own capability, the former detective tempted to throw the older man into one of the lesser-cleaned rooms of his mind palace.

There was probably something on torture in there. Holmes hadn't cleaned the less used rooms in so long that he wasn't sure of exactly what was stored in them. Perhaps that was much like Grimmauld Place; whenever Holmes turned up there, bored of the castle and its' creaking, he was greeted by Molly Weasley shouting orders to her children and Sirius Black shaking his head in disbelief. Remus Lupin seemed exempt from cleaning up the house, but once Holmes turned up, Molly decided that none of them were being useful enough, and ordered the adults to assist the children.

Holmes found that the Weasley children were more than adept at cleaning up; they were also incredibly stubborn. A new streak which Holmes had not encountered in his classes stunned the man, who was faced with having to watch the ginger teenagers- and Potter and Granger- wrestle with all sorts of magical objects, most of which Black, Lupin and himself could easily disarm with a wave of their wands.

But children had to learn to fight their own battles.

At Grimmauld Place, Holmes was finally given the true reason for the children having missed their final few classes before the Christmas break: Mr Weasley had been attacked on duty. At some point each day, the children and Lupin would disappear, escorted by Mad-Eye, to see Arthur, leaving Holmes and Black alone in the house. While the two men had promised to Mrs Weasley that they would attempt to dispose of some more clutter, they instead sat in the kitchen, pouring over newspapers and using their break to discuss matters that Mrs Weasley didn't approve of.

"Dumbledore had a few things to say about you," Black remarked, leaning his chair on its back legs. Holmes liked the man more than enough, but there was a part of him that wanted to see the chair slide back and the man topple to the ground. "You had an argument?"

"Loud disagreement," Holmes sipped his tea. "Dumbledore is keeping his distance."

"Oh, have I heard about that!" Black smirked. "Harry doesn't understand why. And nor do I, for that matter."

"Dumbledore thinks that it would be dangerous to assist the boy. I disagree; if a dark lord is hunting Potter with means to kill him, I think helping him is the safest thing to do. I offered-"

"And you were turned down? I don't assume that you know every secret of Hogwarts, then." When Holmes looked perplexed, Black continued. "Good. I don't think the castle's as good at keeping secrets as it used to be, the Ministry have probably got someone spying in there; they've been plotting."

For all of Black's mysterious looks and sinister tones, Holmes was impatient. "Mr Black, I would appreciate if you could tell me what-"

"The Ministry has imposed strict laws on what you are and are not allowed to teach in your classes, correct?" Holmes nodded; too many rules that he didn't agree with but a job he wanted to keep. Perhaps now he understood Granger's frustration. "Harry decided enough was enough. Well, Ron and Hermione had to give him a shove and shouting at, but they've fashioned themselves into a little bit of an army."

Holmes watched the man opposite him for a moment. Black seemed impressed, as though there was nothing that would make him prouder of his godson; and Holmes could hardly blame him. "Well, Potter certainly does excel in my classes, I imagine he'd be a capable teacher."

Black nodded. "Dumbledore hire you at the last minute, didn't he?"

"Coerced me, persuaded me, refused to take no as an answer from me," Holmes listed. "But yes, it was a rushed appointment."

"And you took that job, of all jobs? You want a job in this world, with your brains, go to the Ministry. Why would someone like you, someone who clearly resents this world so much, go into teaching?" Black was now shaking his head, as though he refused to believe it. "You were the cleverest prat when we were kids. Never let anyone get away with anything," He shrugged. "So maybe it fits. But why would you choose-"

"Hogwarts offers me protection that a normal residence could never give," Holmes interrupted. "My charms are nothing against the castle's armour. And as you said, teaching appears to suit me well."

"Like the cloak," Black smirked. "But you left."

"There are some places you can never truly leave. If I had left this place for good, I don't imagine that I would still be alive. Living life on the dangerous side doesn't come without it's near-death experiences and if it weren't for magic-"

"You might have gotten a better landing?"

Holmes stopped. If Black was referencing what he thought he was referencing… but no, he couldn't know. It had been timed exactly, executed to ensure that what happened then wouldn't interfere with where he was now.

"You read the papers." His voice was low, almost defeated,

Black laughed. "Of course I read the papers! But I doubted every word. Fake detectives don't jump off roofs in front of the public, they disappear quietly. Now, you were always a little flamboyant, a little loud, but what was said in that paper-"

"Lies. Me being in London even now is a risk; I have to cut some threads before I do anything about returning. Dumbledore offered me a job at Hogwarts and I took it, knowing that I could operate from the castle without the chances of being found by those I'm working against. And if J-" Holmes caught himself just in time, ceasing to speak. He was telling Black too much.

But Black simply nodded. "Well, if it's disappearing you want help with, I have experience. Although being able to turn into a dog helps. Now," Black nodded again, this time towards the door. "They'll be back soon and Molly will be censoring our speech as soon as she walks through that door; I need you to help me." Black's voice was low and urgent.

"With?"

"Harry may be fully capable and surrounded by others with every ability to bail him out of trouble, but he's also got an… interesting sense of his own abilities. What with Voldemort trying to get back and the Ministry trying to get into the castle, the last thing I want is for him to get into any trouble."

"You want me to watch-"

"Watch, listen, make sure no one can get their hands on him. I don't know what the Ministry is going to try but you can bet that they'll have a go at something. And Harry isn't exactly in their good books right now, I doubt they'll stay away from him for long."

Well, Holmes disagreed. If the Ministry wanted to make a move, if Voldemort wanted to get his work over with, they would have all done it by now. The castle was the safest place for the child and even his hot head couldn't get him into trouble there. Perhaps outside, in the village; but there was little chance of his opponents venturing there. But he couldn't say that to Black.

"Of course. Deducing Potter is proving somewhat… difficult."

"Losing your touch?"

"Or so you think. You lean back on two legs of the chair because you want to assert your importance in the room and fear being ignored. Azkaban changed you, perhaps for the better; you strive to protect Potter yet that's put you in a difficult position with Dumbledore. I must say, the dog thing is prominent, you practically drool every time food is presented to you and if you could you'd follow Potter everywhere as his loyal companion because that's what you are, loyal, although not in the Hufflepuff sense; no, you take risks, like watching your godson leave for his fifth year at school even though you were told not to, and if I asked you to tell me who you despise most in the world you wouldn't know what to say because there are only a few people who don't make you want to risk another prison sentence." Holmes raised an eyebrow as Black grumbled to himself, and although it wasn't his best deduction, he was secretly proud. "To be fair, I had to do a lot of thinking for that one." He added.

"Well, maybe it's just Harry."

"Reading people isn't easy, Black; you have to watch them closely, gain as much information as possible in a matter of minutes, maybe even seconds. A lot of it is taking the obvious and spinning it all together with what you already know about a person; for a complete stranger- clients are clients, enough said, and really, you're quite an obvious man," Holmes narrowed his eyes. "But one with secrets, nonetheless."

Christmas rolled by, and Holmes elected to spend the occasion at Grimmauld Place. Arthur Weasley returned from St Mungo's patched up and looking only a little worse for wear, and the old house was full of joy as the day wore on. Holmes had a little fun trying to deduce the contents of the children's presents, although he chose to censor himself slightly; in dark times, it was perhaps wise to lay off on the cynical realism.

Christmas' at 221B had always been rather fun, and Holmes almost regretted having to leave his violin behind. Mycroft hadn't been able to think up an excuse for taking it and Holmes wasn't keen to have the homeless network steal it, so he was often finding himself drumming out beats and attempting to work out notes using his hand as a makeshift fingerboard. Sadly, it was a poor substitute, and Holmes could only hope that John was taking care of his instrument.

John would never leave his thoughts. Even when his mind was on the topic of Hogwarts during his time as a student, John would creep onto the stage, filling Holmes with guilt and sadness. He had chosen to leave, for the good of everyone he loved, but even given the circumstances, John in his imagination was not at all forgiving.

But the celebrations were pleasant and Holmes did feel far more upbeat than he would have in the castle. He was tempted to send John an owl later that night, but the note he had written ended up in the fire; better not to arouse any suspicion that he might be around. And John probably wouldn't appreciate the creature trying to gain entry to the flat.

If only he had told John. Not about the fall, or Moriarty's finer plans, but of the wizarding world and all its flair. The lights that shot from wands in place of fireworks. Talking paintings. Moving photographs. The dangers, the even matches, the knowledge that your opponent had exactly the same resources as you. Those were the parts of the wizarding world that Sherlock Holmes adored, the parts he would have happily shared with John. He had left, sure, but you could never leave this world for good; it stayed with you. Stone walls and parchment, quills stored out of sight. Sometimes Holmes had missed his days in the castle, friendless but pleasant nonetheless.

He had lived a lie in the muggle world. The wizarding world was one of the few things he had kept from John, from his few friends, and that had been a policy laid down on day one; never reveal your past. But Holmes had always longed to show John the wonders and magic of a world that was only real to his friend through stories, and now, living back in it in exile, he regretted never bringing it up.

Hello again.

Excuses. Yes. Right. Well. I sort of forgot to write this.

LOOK I'M SORRY.

But the year is moving on! Action will begin shortly! There will be plot!

Okay yes hope you enjoyed see you at some point soon.