I'll be Your Coat
Hermione Apperates a block away from the flat to avoid raising suspicions. She has been up all night and is incredibly tired all she wants is to get back to the flat and catch a nap. Hermione knows she is being watched monitored not just by the wizard community but by her roommate as well- even with Sherlock's eyes and ears being snuffed out. Hermione was not delusional in the fact that Sherlock thought her a prime suspect in these murders. The morning headlines, however, suggested a far more likely suspect in all caps. 'FAMOUS DETECTIVE PLAYS GOD'!
Joseph Morris has out done himself, pointing fingers at Sherlock with only circumstantial evidence to back up the claim. Hermione had already been on the phone that morning with both Mycroft and Lestrade both of who were at work to have a retraction publish, but the damage was already done.
This was going to upset John Watson far more than it would Sherlock Holmes.
There is a little girl in red cowboy boots and a lumpy face sitting on the step curb outside of 221 Baker Street, the ratty brown hair, untidy dress and empty bottle in her clench fist an all too familiar sight.
"Winky?" Hermione greets the elf as she approaches only to be ferociously glared at.
"There the rotten girl is! She shows up after making me wait for hers all night long!" Winky hollers standing with a drunken sway pointing a nubby finger in Hermione's direction. "You gots Bear murders!" the elf accused.
Hermione ran a hand through her hair sighing deeply. "In a manner of speaking." she admits holding out her hand. "Give it here. Last thing you need is a drink." Hermione says reaching over to pull the bottle of gin out of Winky's hand. The elf hides the bottle behind her back stumbling a bit as she continued to glare at Hermione.
"I knows you would be the death of all elves. I told them. First Dobby and now Bear! His was all me had." The elf tells Hermione, Winky's big brown eyes filled with tears.
"I didn't mean for any of this to happen. I told him to return to you while we waited for the bill to pass. Told him to stay safe and to keep all of you safe. Stubborn elf didn't listen." Hermione states firmly, once more reaching over for the bottle this time she plucks it out of the elf's hand with little effort.
"Nasty girl stealing Winky's things!" The elf yells and Hermione shrugs turning the bottle over and emptying the remaining alcohol out onto the pavement before handling the bottle back. Winkly looked at the bottle offended before her big eyes honed back in on Hermione. "Tricky mudblood. I hates you. Bear thought you more important to protect than stupid elves. You free him and so he didn't have to listen to you. Bear got to decide and so did Dobby and nows they are boths dead. And it is your fault." Winky hisses and while Hermione knows that Winky is trying to hurt her with words, there is something about Winky's taunt that is actually comforting to Hermione. Because she did feel guilty about Bear's death, but his death wasn't her fault.
"Thank you, Winky. You are right. Because of me Bear had the opportunity to do what he thought was right. A choice he wouldn't have had if it weren't for my work. And while I don't agree with the choice he made I can respect that the decision was all his, just like you said I was not his mistress and he did not do want I begged of him, he did what he thought best."
"You is a dangerous girl! Breathing hope into lost souls making them want things they shouldn't want. I hope you knows what you are doing." Winky tells Hermione wiping tears off her cheeks with the back of her hand. "Bear said if anything happen to him, make sure you get this." Winky pulls out a vanilla envelop handing it to Hermione. "The elves whisper that your bill passed. It will be announced tonight. Remember everything that happens from here out, is your faults. Only yours. Elfs and Wizards are not equals. And they shouldn't be." Winky states firmly and before Hermione can argue Winky turns and runs into a dark alley, vanishing with a pop.
House elves exhausted her, by the time Hermione walks up the stairs all she wants is a shower and bed.
Instead she gets Sherlock wide awake bustling around his kitchen working on some kind of experiment.
Hermione takes off her coat hanging it on the coat rack walking over to see what Sherlock was doing.
Distilling a toxin from belladonna. He looks as if he has been at it all night trying to get the correct concentration.
"You heard then. Your murders where poisoned." Hermione asks announcing herself. Sherlock looks up with blood shot eyes in need of sleep.
"Yes, Molly called said you found poison in the toxin screen of the boy. Whoever the murder is made a mistake, he had not anticipated the child. The concentrations were for an adult, measured out carefully to be metabolized fully before death so there would be no trace in the system. She also said you found small puncture wounds on the scalps of the victims. Any theory's on administration?"
Hermione shakes her head. "No I don't know how the poison got into the system, the point of entry is too small to be a syringe. I will look at options once I have gotten some sleep." Hermione says kicking her shoes off sitting on the couch. She suddenly feels too tired to climb the stairs to her bedroom.
Sherlock stretches, a clear indication that he has been standing for hours. "I have finally calculated the concentration right. We need to put together a list of suspects and see who might have purchase this poison recently." He explains taking a seat next to her. "You will need to compile a list of your enemies and we will have Mycroft check them out." Sherlock throws an arm around her shoulders and she is too tired to do much else but curl up beside him leaning her head on his shoulder.
"Me? I would say that all this is a personal vendetta against you. After my lunch with Mycroft I would deduce that this is revenge against you for tearing down a terrorist cell belonging to a dead man." She shares with a yawn.
Sherlock nods sleepily, sitting back against the arm rest pulling her closer to his side so her head is on his chest, she can hear his heart beat a steady soothing drum. "Yes I have complied my list. Already gave it to Mycroft. By the way what did he mean about the Theater?"
Hermione smiles and closes her eyes only for a second she tells herself. "He invited me to see Les Miserable with him next month."
"You can't go!" Sherlock tells her firmly, his command having a finality to it that Hermione was too tired to reprehend.
"Why not? It is one of my favorites?" She asks.
To which his reply is "My parents too."
The significance of his argument does not register with a tired Hermione, her last thought before she falls asleep is that perhaps they should be invited as well.
They awake to a door being slammed shut. The imposing figure of one Draco Malfoy sneering down at the couple curled up together on the couch asleep in each other's embrace.
Hermione sits up adjusting herself so she can stand, not completely composed when Malfoy marched over and pulls her up to stand by her arm. Sherlock is there pushing Malfoy back a dark threating glare is exchanged between the two men.
"Don't touch her." Sherlock practically growls and Hermione rolls her eyes.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of your breaking and entering Malfoy?" Hermione snidely asks slipping her shoes on.
Malfoy is still glaring at Sherlock his cold emotionless eyes turning to Hermione slowly before he thrust a newspaper forward.
"Though you ought to know, that your precious bill was passed." He tells her like it was all his doing and none of the work she had put in had any merit for its approval. And by the time Hermione was done reading the article, written by Rita Skeeter, Hermione knew there was truth to his arrogance.
"You bribed them to pass it!" She accused and Malfoy's stupid smirk just about made Hermione see red. "How could you do that, they would have passed it without your involvement. Now if they do an internal investigation all my hard work will be for nothing!" Hermione screeched and Malfoy looked pleased with himself while Sherlock moved to stand beside her. She could feel the fathom touch of his hand at her back, like it hovered there protective.
"Oh please, Granger, enough with the dramatics. An internal investigation will never take place, and if it does your hands will remain clean, as always. I told you I can be very generous and forgiving." Malfoy states his cold stare flickering to Sherlock then back to her. "You know I have to marry Astoria but there would be a place for you in my home." He makes his stupid offer again. One night stands only equaled a declaration of commitment in a psychopath's head.
"And as I told you before: Fuck you very much for your concern. Now get out." Hermione says thrusting the newspaper back at Malfoy. Her tone chipper similar in regards as if another person was giving thanks to a friend.
"Granger…" Malfoy says her name pleading, but it is Sherlock that steps in blocking her from Malfoy, his tall frame looming over Malfoy intimidating.
"Hermione asked you to leave our house and as it is you can either leave via the stairs or out the window. Your choice." Sherlock states his dead span expression and monotone making it very plausible that the detective meant his words.
Malfoy's pale face and wide eyes were clear indicators that he took the detective's words seriously. "At least I'll never have to say I didn't try. I'll let myself out, Mr. Holmes." Malfoy says turning and walking out the door. His foot step heavy on the stairs.
When he is gone, Hermione rounds on Sherlock "I didn't need your help, I can handle the ferret just fine without your interference." She firmly states. To which Sherlock tilts his head his response mirroring her own from yesterday morning when she defended him against the Sun reporter.
"I thought that is what friends do: help one another without want of anything in return?" He looks confused by her glare, and Hermione can only shake her head impatiently.
"That would sound more believable if you didn't say it with so much disgust."
"I just find it suspicious, you told me to not confuse you for an innocent, but the mounting evidence points to the fact that you have nothing to do with these murders. I'm starting to conclude that you are a silly girl that wants something that is incalculable and completely illogical from me."
"And what exactly is that, Sherlock? Friendship."
"Yes, Miss Grange! I don't have friends, I have a friend."
"Then perhaps you just haven't found the right people."
"Are you claiming you are the right person for me?" He asks smoothly like he had been leading her down this path of confession.
"Well yes of course. Haven't I been singing just that thing since the moment we met over the phone? I am on your side, Sherlock. And well, you have only treated me as a criminal, suspicious of all I do."
"That is because you have a secret, I don't know what it is but it eclipse the rest of your honesty. Makes every fact out of your mouth sound coherently suspicious." again he is accusing and Hermione hopes one day to discover exactly who made him so suspicious of the world.
Hermione sighs deeply, not in distress but like she was patiently preparing her answer.
"Everyone has secrets, Sherlock. Including you. How many secrets can you keep? Because I'm not about to share mine, until I am positive you will not use them as a weapon against me. You are still looking for my pressure point. Will you not stop until you find it?" She asks of him, looking at him hoping he can comprehend how concern she is for his own disability to see and accept the whole person. "Can you not just love without wanting to destroy?"
"Whoever said I loved you? Love is a woman's folly."
At this her stare softens because she can see below all his bluster. "Who said I was referring to me? So you care, I dare say it won't be the end of the world." She reassures him.
Sherlock quirks an eyebrow at her. "Do you have plans today?" He asks changing the subject.
"Yes I'm going to go see our friend Joe Morris of the Sun, and then I'm going to help Mrs. Hudson before Harry arrives with my surprise party. Did you remember to invite your friends?" Hermione fills him in heading in the direction of the bathroom, wanting a quick shower.
"I thought that was for the eight? There is plenty of time."
"Today is the eight."
"Oh well then…" Sherlock pulls out his phone looking down his nose at the device his fingers busy no doubt sending out a mass text, Hermione rolls her eyes. "I'll accompany you on your interrogation of Morris." He invites himself hurrying into the kitchen tucking his phone into his pocket. He stops and turns back around, "If Mr. Potter is throwing you a surprise party then how do you know about it?" Hermione hears him shout as she reaches the bathroom.
Hermione smiles as she turns the faucet on, leaning back out the door, "Because, Sherlock, I don't know if you have noticed but I'm quite clever!" She shouts back shutting the door unable to hear any response he might have for her.
Joseph Morris office is a catch all for worldly artifacts. The man had obviously at one time had a very serious career as a world journalist. Now he was a fluff reporter only able to sell stories on local celebrities. No wonder the man disliked the private detective so much.
"You've been to South America?" Hermione asks examining a mask of Aztec descent.
"Yes. I have been to North America, Middle East, Africa, and got to go to Asia once. I go where ever the job sends me." Joseph tells them leaning back in his chair like he doesn't have a care in the world.
"How about dark alley ways with poison darts?" Hermione asks picking up a Fukiya and turning so Sherlock can see it. "This looks promising! Look how small the needles would have to be, 13mm in diameter, very promising." Hermione points out handing the Japanese weapon to Sherlock.
"It's still loaded." Sherlock notices, turning the weapon to face Joseph whose face pales as the reporter stands with his arms defensively in the air.
"That was a gift and it is very fragile, please put it down." The reporter asks and Sherlock puts his mouth up to open tube.
"What kind of toxin do you suppose is on the end of the dart, Miss Granger? A sedative or poison." Sherlock guesses.
Joseph's fear is real.
"The dart's proper name is a Fukibari, Sherlock. The weapon is better known in Western countries as a blowgun. The Fukiya is distinctive to other blowguns, due to its lack of mouth piece. Many people associate it with a ninja weapon." Hermione informs calmly in her know-it-all voice, walking over to stand beside Joseph her eyes never leaving the man as she approaches. Sherlock has the Fukiya still aimed on the reporter. "Well there is only one way to find out." Hermione says watching as Morris' eyes widen, he looks scared enough he might just wet his pants.
"Wait!" Joseph begs and Sherlock lowers the weapon looking accusingly at he man.
"You have taken 12 lives, please tell me why yours should be spared." Hermione asks her voice ice as she stares the man down.
Morris seems to the relax with the impending danger being lowered, he obviously has no fear of the woman, and he has been stalking Sherlock for so long that he knows the Sociopath needs a hard push to do more than give him a threating glare.
"Because I am the puppet master. I make the news. My truth is the only version that anyone needs to hear. Me, killing those tramps was a gift to the city, I was cleaning up the street. "
"Christ not another one." Sherlock states with an eye roll completely unimpressed. "You're a fan? The B type?" Sherlock asks putting the weapon down and taking out his hand cuffs.
"Is he serious?" Hermione asks talking the handcuffs. She is not gentle when she throws the reporter face first into his desk knocking him out. With her tiny statue and the fact that she was a woman took the men by surprise. Neither expecting her violence. Sherlock is standing there looking at her like she is scary. Hermione just shakes her head in the detective's direction, to which Sherlock shrugs then with a hand gesture indicates for her to cuff Morris.
Lestrade arrives in five minutes to find the reporter already handcuffed to the desk. Hermione hands over the recording of Morris' confession and Sherlock the murder weapon.
It is raining when they leave and Hermione left her coat back at the flat do to the lovely weather earlier that day. Sherlock flips up the collar of his coat against the rain getting ready to step out into the storm.
"I'll just met you at the flat." Hermione says, planning to Apperate as soon as she is alone. Instead Sherlock opens his coat and tucking her under his arm, "I'll be your coat, Miss Granger." His tone is husky and Hermione's heart just about melts. There is something incredibly romantic about his suggestion and she can't seem to slow her breathing as he leads her out into the rain storm, protecting her against the weather as he hails a cab.
A/N: It is a bit short but I liked the chapter ending this way. This story is taking longer to write than I anticipated. Sorry for the slow updates, but given my track record be assured I'll finish it before taking on a new story.