Once again thank you for reading. The follows and faves made me terribly happy, as did the reviews, thank you for those:

(Lourdes08) I know - Ron was so out of his comfort zone :/ I am glad you liked the chapter :)
(Sarah) Thank you. Hope this chapter won't disappoint.

CHAPTER 4

"Hurry, John!" Sherlock was about to bolt out of the room and follow the man.

John expected this, though why Sherlock couldn't have waited and let the man finish his work and let him leave in peace, he didn't know. Well, he didn't piss anyone off for a few hours now, so it was probably bound to happen sooner or later...

"Oh, honestly John, stop thinking, please," said Sherlock. "I want to know where he is going. They are obviously careful about it; otherwise Lestrade would sniff it out somehow. It was easy to figure out what would provoke him. The man was still upset over the fight he had. Yes, before you ask, he did have one – his tie is not tied right, no one pointed that out to him and certainly not his wife. Why would she do that? She was upset. Also later when he spoke of 'having Hermione', which I presume is the wife, he did so in an admiring voice, which means he holds her opinion (and knowledge) in high regard, but also had slightly guilty expression on his face, which means he is aware he was the one in fault. He decided to come to work despite being injured – you must have noticed he held his left arm stiffly and barely moved it. If she likes him at least a bit she wouldn't want him to go to work before he properly recovered... can we move on now? He will be steaming in anger, won't be paying attention to his surroundings. It will make things easier for us. He will lead us straight to those 'Aurors', whoever they are." With that he left the morgue.

"Well," said John hurriedly to Lestrade and Molly, "need to run, or he will leave me here! Bye! Will call you, if anything new arises!" Suddenly the army doctor was gone too.

"So," said Lestrade, after they both recovered from what just happened, "I should be going too. Thanks for letting me know, Molly. I appreciate it."

"Oh, you're welcome," replied the pathologist. "It was certainly interesting. And I hope we will get at the bottom of this. Sorry for not believing you though."

"That's okay," shrugged the Detective Inspector. "Maybe it's just a wild-goose chase and it's nothing after all."

"But what do you think is going on?" asked Molly.

"I know I have no idea," said the Inspector and left with a parting nod.

Meanwhile, Sherlock and John followed the red-headed man. As the detective predicted, he was stomping angrily, muttering to himself. But they kept their distance, just in case.

He just left the building and to Sherlock's surprise, his steps led him to a corner right near to hospital which the detective knew for sure was a dead-end. The man rounded the corner and suddenly a faint crack echoed around. No one noticed though, people weren't paying attention. But Sherlock and John looked at each other and broke into a run, because it was from the direction of the man the sound was heard.

They reached the corner – no one was there.

"What the hell?" shouted John, summing up their thoughts quite nicely. "What happened, Sherlock? This," he waved around, "shouldn't be possible. Where did he go? He just disappeared."

"Shut up!" snapped Sherlock, his eyes trying and failing to find out any clue in the enclosed area. For a moment he stood rooted to the place. The doctor hoped that he could think of some explanation, because he certainly was out of... "We should go," exclaimed Sherlock suddenly, halting John's thoughts.

"Sherlock?"

"We're going back home." The detective strode towards the road and hailed the first cab in sight.

"But what about Weasley? And Aurors?" asked John.

"I have nothing to follow," admitted Sherlock, though it obviously pained him to do so. "And there is only one person who can get me some information – no one knows about Aurors, undoubtedly he will be involved."

John understood immediately.

Upon entering Baker Street, they were greeted by Mrs Hudson.

"Sherlock, you have a guest upstairs!" she said cheerfully.

"Thank you, Mrs Hudson," replied Sherlock and went up.

"Can we have some of those delicious smelling biscuits, Mrs Hudson?" asked John hopefully, inhaling the tantalizing scent that came from her flat.

"Oh," Mrs Hudson rolled her eyes, "you flatterer. I will bring some, now off you go! But I am not making you tea; I am not your housekeeper."

"Of course, Mrs Hudson," smiled John. "Thank you."

When John entered their flat it was to the clash of two titans trying to kill each other with icy glares (actually, Mycroft's gaze was more of the 'I-am-the-older-sibling-you-will-listen-to-me-and- do-as-I-say' variety, but John only noticed that, because he was at the receiving end of similar glares quite often in the past from his sister)

"Ah, John," said Sherlock, when he noticed him, despite refusing to break the eye contact with his brother. "Mycroft decided to grace us with his presence earlier than intended. Isn't it nice of him?"

"I... see," said John slowly.

"John," said Mycroft in greeting. "I've heard you visited Bart's. Anything interesting?"

"Stop it!" growled Sherlock. "You know what happened. And you know what is going on! Your smug expression is a giveaway. In fact you are so disgustingly... happy about knowing it, that were you someone else, you would be bouncing on that chair you're sitting on."

"Oh, re-ally," drawled Mycroft raising an eyebrow. "I cannot imagine anything that would warrant such behaviour from me," he said.

"Are you going to explain or not?" asked Sherlock.

"All in due time, brother," remarked Mycroft. "I would prefer if you forgot Milverton for just a little moment and paid attention to my little affair. After that you can go and play with your corpse, I promise."

"I," started Sherlock, "would however prefer you to tell me what you know about the Auror Department and a man named Ronald Weasley."

Mycroft sighed. "One time," he said exasperated, "one time I try to bring you something extraordinary, something you might not complain about with every breath you take and you mess it up even when you're not really trying."

If John didn't know better he would say that Mycroft was deflated... it was quite as if Sherlock opened his present before it was time. The detective however didn't notice... or ignored it.

"So it was Milverton's death you wanted me to investigate? Was me going to Bart's 'messing up'? Or maybe not even his death... just go through his hiding places, no? Is that why you didn't want me to see him? So I can concentrate on that, instead of trying to find out how he died?" he asked maliciously. "Your associate, who is he? Was he blackmailed by the man? You want me to once again retrieve some photographs with dubious content?!"

The elder Holmes shrugged, "How Milverton died is really not the problem. His death, however is a gateway for you."

Sherlock frowned. "Theatrics do not suit you, Mycroft – you sound ridiculous. Gateway? To where exactly?" John agreed with Sherlock wholeheartedly, Mycroft... didn't sound much like Mycroft at all – maybe he was drunk?

"And as a master of theatrics you would be the best judge, wouldn't you, Sherlock?" retorted Mycroft. "All will be explained, you don't need to worry," he said.

"All?" repeated Sherlock, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, of course not," Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Milverton's death will still be very much unsolved after our discussion. What would be the point of involving a detective if there was no case to investigate, right? But other points that may confuse you now, shall be cleared. My associate is just doing me a favour by coming here." He looked pointedly at Sherlock to drive home how very wrong he was about the subject of the meeting. "All I need from you, before we can continue, is to sign something."

"I am not signing anything!" said Sherlock glaring at the forms his brother got out of his briefcase.

"I'm starting to think that this was a mistake," sighed Mycroft again. "The meeting shall be cancelled then. I am sure my associate will be happy, I plucked him from his return home, I am fairly certain that he would prefer going back to his wife rather than meeting you – but I was afraid that no one else would be able to handle you... being you. Also, I thought you wanted some explanations..."

Sherlock was torn, but John knew what his friend's answer will be. Mycroft held all the cards and that meant yielding and getting his signature on some secrecy papers.

And truly, Sherlock groaned and yanked the forms from his brother's hands.

"What's with all the parchment today?" he remarked as he procured a pen from somewhere and signed one of them with a flourish (and without even reading it! noticed John). Then he handed the other one to the doctor, who unlike Sherlock went through it carefully – but it was just a simple statement that no information gained according to some Acts John never heard about (but then, he didn't care that much about politics) shall be revealed to outside parties. John signed it too.

Right then a ring rang through the silence and they heard Mrs Hudson to usher the person in.

"Splendid," Mycroft clapped his hands, "right on time."

A few minutes went by – something must have kept them – then the doors of the flat opened and a man entered the room. He was holding a tray with biscuits and a bag was hanging on his right wrist. Mrs Hudson was trotting behind him and they were both smiling.

"Honestly young man, you're a guest! It won't do letting you carry trays for the boys like that," she admonished lightly.

"But madam," said the man in a pleasant voice, "it would be very bad manners from me, if I didn't offer to help. It's no problem at all. They look fantastic by the way. I swear, Molly – that's my mother-in-law – is the best cook I know, but those would have no problem whatsoever rivalling her baked goods."

"Oh you," said Mrs Hudson and to the astonishment of two Holmes and one Watson her cheeks coloured slightly. "Now do make yourself comfortable and let me prepare you tea, young man. I will bring it shortly," The man opened mouth to say something, "No, protests. I insist!"

"Thank you, madam," he smiled at her, "if it won't be a problem." After she left, he turned to the men in the room. "Where should I put this?" he asked nodding at the tray in his hands, not able to locate a single empty surface.

"Oh, somewhere on table over here," said John, pushing some papers on the desk out of the way. Then he quickly dragged two chairs from there so they would be able to join the Holmes brothers near the fireplace.

The man put it down and remained standing there quite awkwardly, not really knowing what to do now. He didn't wait long though – Mycroft took the matters into his hands pretty quickly.

"I'm glad you were able to make it," he said. "This is Sherlock Holmes, my brother," he gestured towards the tall dark-haired man, "and this is his companion, Doctor John Watson," this time he waved towards the one who took the chairs.

The stranger smiled at the duo slightly, hoping for a smile in return (got one from the doctor – not such luck from the younger Holmes).

"Brother, John," continued Mycroft (and did his chest just puff out slightly? wondered the doctor), "meet Harry Potter."

"Just Harry is fine, really," said the man as he shook hands with the doctor, who too insisted on first-name basis. When he wanted to repeat the gesture with Sherlock the man didn't move, just scrutinized him silently.