A/N This chapter is devoted to:

My bear, who has stood with me over several years, and has sadly passed on, murdered, actually, by me. A stone bear sits on my lamp and now is literally swinging from my celing because I hung it up there by the neck with a noose. I was thinking of doing the same to myself when I realized that I had not yet finished all of my fics, and my readers love me dearly, thank you so very much for that. I feel so special for all my veiws, reviews, and visits(Whats the diff between views and visits? Just wondering.) I was literally saved from commiting suicide by you guys, seriously, I LOVE all of you. And if anybody is worried that I have no friends or family, don't worry. I have no friends, and I kind of locked myself in my room just because I was being forced to clean, and wanted to spite my father. Don't worry, all is well, and thoughts of suicide are out of my head. (mostly.) I also want to dedicate this chapter to Kyla. My human interpreter. Because she makes sense where regular sheep do not. Sheep are normal humans, if you are wondering. To quote Sherlock. "I don't have friends, I have a friend, you." Or something like that. Also, a wonderful, kind guest corrected my French in the prologue. I would love to thank that guest, and, as you can clearly see, I have fixed it. Thank you.

PLEASE READ! I would like to note that Hermione dyed her hair during her school days, so she would look normal. (I totally forgot to add that into the first chappie) As you can see, she has on her school uniform in the pic, so therefore is still using hair dye as she is in her school days still. So sorry about that little misshap.(Her eyes can be explained be colored contacts, obviously.*with Sherlock accent*)

Anyhoo...

ON WITH THE STORY!

Hermione POV:

I was having a relatively "normal" day when he called. "Normal" because I'm Hermione Jean Holmes and a witch. I've been living in non-magical rural London for a while now. I'm still magic, I just have a non-magical house and job. Anyway..

Sherlock called.

I was sitting down in my cushy scarlet armchair reading on astrology, when the phone suddenly rang. I picked it up from the armrest and looked at it. It was playing a dramatic song that I think he would like, and had a picture of him playing the violin as a child. I tapped the answer button, and put it to my ear.

"Hermione."

"Sherlock! What do you need? Can I get it for you? I know you never call for sentimental reasons."

"Actually, I need you to I identify a stick I found on a body."

He's with a non-magical then.

"Name, and bring it over or I'll come over there to do prior incantation and check if it's their's."

"John Smith."

"You're being serious."

"Yes."

I started to giggle at the name. It soon turned into full out laughter.

"He must have real fun at airports." I said, after calming down.

"He's your type, he probably doesn't even know what an airport is."

"Was he in non-magical garb?"

"Yes, better than most I must admit, but still has all the markers of your kind."

"Like what?"

"His cufflinks, glad Anderson didn't see it."

"Anyway, who's the new trainee?"

"John. John Watson."

"Ah, the one with the sister named Harry."

"Yes, that's him."

"I'm coming over, what's the address again?"

"221B Baker Street. Goodbye Hermione."

"Goodbye Sher-"

He ended the call. I got up with a grunt and moved to get ready to meet the new "trainee" as I like to call them. Whenever Sherlock gets a new flatmate, he trains them, the last one died, do now he talks to his skull. My brother's a madman, yes he is.

Previously:

John POV:

"BORED, BORED, BOERD, BORED, BORED!"
He's yelling again. Traipsing about the flat in his pajamas and robe, can't find the gun, I have hid it well.

"Have you checked the website for cases?" I tried, something to keep him occupied.

"YES! Seventeen times already!"
Okay then, plan B.

"Have you texted Lestrade? He might have a cold case for you."

"He won't reply." He finally stopped pacing and folded himself into his chair, sulking. RING! the doorbell.

"I got it!" I called to Mrs. Hudson and Sherlock, who had stood up and started speed walking to the door, desperate for something to do.

I went down the stairs and answered the door, seeing Lestrade there. He nodded to me and gestured with his hand toward the flat.

"Oh," I stammered, "Go right ahead, he's been in a bad mood lately, running about in nightclothes and yelling."

"Good. I've got a case for him." He told me.

"Oh thank goodness. Lestrade, you're a lifesaver." We both went up the stairs and inside the flat Lestrade immediately got bombarded by Sherlock.

"Lestrade! Good to see you. Do you have a body for me?" Sherlock said, in that rapid-fire way of his.

"Yes as a matter of fact I do. One John Smith, found dead in his home, no cause of death."

"Who's on forensics?"
"Anderson."
"Do you purposely put him there so I go? You know what, don't answer that, I know you do. Go ahead, I'll be there soon by cab."

Lestrade left, and Sherlock went into his room and actually got some clothes on. He was bustling about and grabbing his coat and scarf, soon ready to go. I had been ready to go from the start, and all I had to do was pull on my jacket. We went outside and Sherlock used his magical cab getting magic to get us a cab.

We were now at the crime scene.

It was a rural place, not very unusual, besides the police tape around one house, that is. And the body splayed out on the front steps, that could count.

"Find anything useful?" Sherlock asked Lestrade, after completely ignoring the police tape and waltzing right up to the body, looking at it closely with his little portable magnifying glass. I stood a few feet behind him, looking at it from behind him.

"Certainly looks the part, doesn't he?" I comment to Lestrade, looking at his face. Plain, not handsome, not ugly. Brown hair and eyes, clipped nails. Regular, cheep suit. Brown dress shoes.

"Not really useful, but we did find some stuff. A wallet, a stick, that's about it really." He held out the evidence bags for Sherlock, who glanced at them, took the stick, and went back to the body.

"No wounds or prior medical conditions?" I asked,

"No. But we haven't ruled out anything yet." Lestrade

" Well I have, but I have to make a call first." said Sherlock, standing up as he does so.

"That's funny. You never make calls, you always say you prefer to text." I wondered allowed, but he went on, unperturbed.

"She doesn't like texting, and won't respond if I do." Ah, a girl then.

He took his phone out of his pocket and scrolled down his contacts before choosing one and holding it to his ear. He waited a bit, then spoke.
"Hermione."

A slightly enthusiastic reply followed, and Sherlock turned around, looking at the body from afar, if a few meters could be counted ad such.

"Actually, I need you to identify a stick I found on a body." he said, holding it up to his face and fondling with it from through the bag, then sticking it in his pocket.

"Wait a second, I found that." said Lestrade, indignant, while pointing at him.

"John Smith."

"Yes." he said with a signature eye roll.

Laughter could be heard from the phone, even from a few feet away from him, which was were I was.

"He's your type, he probably doesn't even know what an airport is." Your type?

"Yes, better than most I admit, but he still has all the markers of your kind." markers? Your kind?

"His cuff links, glad Anderson didn't see it." Something small equals something large, as usual, I didn't even notice he had cuff links on.

"John. John Watson."

"I'm sorry, how is this about me?" I asked him, no response as usual.

"Yes, that's him." He said with a sarcastic eye-roll

"221B Baker Street, Goodbye, Hermione."

He took the phone away from his ear and hung up, starting to walk to the street as he did so.

"Who was that?" I asked, trying to figure out who this mysterious "Hermione" is, and how she got on Sherlock's contact list.

"Somebody who can do what I can't."

"You can't do something?"

"Yes, and she can. Hermione's an expert in her field."

"And what would that field be?"

"Sticks." he said plainly, and continued walking toward the cab, which had been waiting

Present:

When we were in the cab, he asked me a question, which I hadn't been expecting.

"Do you mind if I have some family over?" He asked, looking at me seriously, knowing I had only met Mycroft. (Who kidnapped {adult-napped?} me, thank you very much.)

"No, as long as it's not Mycroft."

"Good, it's Hermione." Oh, god! There are three of them!

"She's related to you?" I asked, trying to find out how she is.
"Sister, yes." He said, monotonously.

"Younger, or older?"I could understand an older sister, I had one myself.
"Six years, twenty-two days younger, why?" I raised my eye brows, that's a lot younger.
"We're here." I said, paying the cabbie and getting out.

We went inside and I went to make tea, while Sherlock busied himself with tidying up the flat. Hmm... He never tidies up for Mycroft.

The doorbell rang and I let Sherlock get it, knowing it was probably Hermione.

When they came upstairs, I saw the family resemblance.

She had on brown cloth gloves, had a nice figure that I'm not going to stare at, and a navy blue coat, along with sleek black hair in a pony tail and ice-blue eyes. Sort of looks like Emma, my cousin.

She sat down on the couch and asked Sherlock for the stick, smiling slightly as she does so. He gives it to her, and comes in the kitchen, where I am, sitting on one of the chairs, waiting for the pot to boil.

He situates himself between me and Hermione, blocking my view to her.I could hear her muttering from here and about a minute later, she came into the kitchen. The pot had boiled by then, and the tea had been served. She handed Sherlock a note and sat at the table, grabbing a cuppa while doing so.

Hermione POV:

I took a cab over to Sherlock's flat. When I got there, I rang the doorbell, and Sherlock opened the door.

"Ah! Hermione! I've got it upstairs." he greeted, all business like, letting me in the door.

"Sherlock, how've you been?" I asked, kissing him on the cheek

Giving no reply, he walked up the stairs, me following, and into the flat.

When we got there, I could see a man that had a rather large nose and a jumper in the kitchen, making tea, so that's John Watson. Sherlock wordlessly gave me the evidence bag, and I opened it and let the wand roll out and onto my palm. He went into the kitchen and blocked John's view from me so I could do magic and not have the ministry on my back.

I muttered "prior incantatum" and a shield charm came up, along with a stunning spell.

I wrote them down on a piece of paper I saw, with a pen I had in my pocket, and got up, going into the kitchen. Giving the paper to Sherlock, I sat down at the table, grabbing a cup of tea as I went.

A/N

SO SORRY I POSTED THIS SO LATE! ALSO SORRY IT'S SO SHORT! Writer's block won't let me do anything else to this. So Sorry for any mistakes, and OOCness. Anyhoo... I LOVE YOU GUYS! YOU ALL MAKE ME SO HAPPY! Arigato gosaimas!

I love you guys. And I just happened upon some virtual cookies and hot chocolate for reviewers. People who didn't review, ha ha, you don't get any. (::) (::) c[~] I'm a special child with many talents. And coated in pure evil. (review if you got the joke about John's cousin.)

Now, the bunnies are doing fine, but they're still hungry! Feed the bunnies! REVIEW! I WILL LOVE YOU AND GIVE YOU TREATS!

I thank you in advance for reviewing.

Sincerely,

PotterVengerLock