Author's Note: So I am pretty certain this is my favorite chapter of this story yet! I hope you enjoy! We've got a little bit of Shermione action coupled with some humor. So much fun! Thank you to everyone for the feedback and love! You're all so amazing! Thank you to GaeilgeRua for beta reading despite not feeling the best! I couldn't do this without you! xxDustNight
Disclaimer: All non-original characters, plot points, and information belongs to J.K. Rowling, BBC, or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. The story plot and dialogue belongs to me. I do not write for profit.
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Nights in 221B
Rated: M
Pairing: Hermione/Sherlock, Sherlock/John (implied)
Summary: When Hermione leaves the wizarding world behind, choosing to aid Sherlock in his desperate search for Moriarty, she learns much more about the consulting detective than she ever thought possible.
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Chapter Five
Sighing in contentment, Hermione woke slowly, enjoying the feel of Sherlock's fingers trailing up and down her naked back. She hummed happily into her pillow, rolling onto her side to stare up at Sherlock in the dim light from his bedside lamp. If she didn't see the slight quirk of his eyebrow, she would think he had no idea she was awake as his fingers never stopped their movements. Hermione loved quiet moments like this—Sherlock reading his science books while she dozed or read the paper. Kissing his hip, she finally pulled his attention from his book.
"What time is it," she asked as she sat up, voice husky from sleep.
Sherlock watched as she wrapped the navy-colored sheet around her body before answering. "Just past ten, I believe." He sank back into the pillows, not quite ready to leave the bed. It wasn't often he and Hermione had an evening all to themselves. Not since John came back into his life, anyway. The doctor was often found at the flat helping them with the Moriarty case these past few weeks.
"Sherlock!" Hermione, exclaimed reaching out to grab hold of his arm. "You let me sleep the entire evening away." After all that rest, Hermione would never fall back to sleep tonight.
Dragging a hand through his tousled curls, Sherlock couldn't keep the smug grin from his face. As he spoke, his voice took on a deep, sultry tone that he knew did the most wonderful things to his witch. "You were worn out from the afternoon's activities. I thought it best to let you rest in case you were up for another round."
She playfully swatted his arm but couldn't help the slight rosy tinge that appeared on her pale cheeks. "You should have woken me up earlier. We do have a case to solve, after all." Despite her scolding tone, Hermione allowed the sheet to fall away in favor of having Sherlock's gaze rake over her body. "Or have you forgotten?"
"Hmm," the detective hummed, reaching out to cup her supple breast. His thumb brushed over her already hardened nipple, earning a gasp for his actions. "With no new leads or information, I find that there is a far more interesting activity to hold my attention tonight." His nimble fingers tweaked her nipple then, causing her back to arch.
"Oh!" Hermione's quiet exclamation only spurred him on, his other hand moving to slide up her thigh. Wanting more, she moved so she was straddling Sherlock, allowing him easier access to her body. "And what might that be, Mr. Holmes?" she asked, sighing as his fingers drew circles around her swollen nub.
"Making love to my brilliant witch," Sherlock murmured, leaning forward to capture her already swollen lips in a heated kiss. Moaning into the kiss, he enjoyed the way Hermione rushed to move his hardened cock to her entrance. As she slid down onto him, they both groaned at the feeling of completion. "I adore you, Hermione," he couldn't help but gasp into the crook of her neck as she set a steady pace. "Nights are no longer unbearable now that I have you."
"You've helped me escape my demons too," she replied, peppering his face with kisses between each word. "I would have remained alone with just my books and tea to keep be company if you hadn't stumbled into my life." Hermione was picking up momentum now, wanting to reach that glorious high the same time Sherlock did. She could tell they were both close.
"Yes," Sherlock gasped, taking hold of her hips and helping her ride him to oblivion. They both ignored the buzzing coming from the nightstand, allowing whoever was calling to go to voicemail. All that mattered in this moment was each other, and as Hermione ground down onto his hips, Sherlock knew he wouldn't last much longer. "Beautiful. Astounding. Mesmerizing."
Hermione giggled, panting a little as she threw her head back. She was so focused on Sherlock and the wonderful building of desire in her lower abdomen that she barely heard the pounding of footsteps on the staircase. In fact, neither of them noticed anything amiss until there was a sputtering in the doorway, followed by a string of curse words that would make Mrs. Weasley blush redder than her hair.
With a squeal, Hermione tumbled off of Sherlock's lap, quickly reaching for the sheet to cover herself. In doing so, she left Sherlock's glistening cock in plain view, and boy did John get a view. Quickly covering his eyes with one hand, the doctor backed out of the doorway and disappeared. Eyes wide in a panic, Hermione gestured at Sherlock's obvious lack of discomfort.
"Sherlock!" She hissed, "Aren't you going to do something?"
"Yes. Right." He cleared his throat and called out to the open door. "John, since you are still lingering in the hall, would you be so kind as to shut the door. We'll be finished here in a few moments. Perhaps you could put on some tea." He then looked towards Hermione's obviously disgruntled face. Frowning he asked, "What?"
"I think the mood has changed, wouldn't you agree? Your best friend...and…" She paused. "John just saw us having sex." She bit her lip, unsure if pointing out that the previous person who held Sherlock's affection had just seen him fucking another woman, no less, was the right thing to do. Standing and moving to where her clothes were discarded earlier in the evening, Hermione tried to be a bit more tactful. "We'll finish later, alright?"
Sighing obnoxiously, Sherlock let his head fall back against the pillow. "Very well, but you will resume the exact position you were in previously. I love watching your breasts bounce each time my cock enters your core." When there was another choking noise from the hallway, Sherlock threw back the covers wrapped around his feet and stomped over to shut the door. "If you're going to eavesdrop, John, you could at least pretend not to hear." The door slamming shut cut off any reply from the doctor.
Hermione slapped a palm over her face, choosing not to say anything this time. Sometimes it was best just to let Sherlock alone when it came to his lack of people skills. The couple finished dressing in silence before joining John in the main room of 221B. Despite his abrupt entrance, John had been kind enough to make the tea Sherlock all but demanded. She took hers with a demure smile, not quite meeting John's eyes.
"Thank you," she mumbled, taking a seat in her new chair, situated next to Sherlock's. She sipped the warm liquid, allowing it to calm her frazzled nerves.
"You're welcome," John replied, cheeks looking a bit flushed as he, no doubt, recalled what he'd seen moments before. He handed Sherlock a cup as well before sitting in his usual chair with his own tea. "I apologize for just barging in like that, but I did try calling first. I didn't realize you were uh-predisposed."
"It's alright."
"Horrid timing."
"Sherlock!"
"What?!"
"You know what," Hermione chastised her lover before turning and giving John a tight lipped smile. "It's in the past. Now, what was so urgent that couldn't wait another half hour?" Hermione ignored the glare she felt Sherlock giving her, eventually noticing when he moved to the window to stare out into the night.
"It's the case…"
"There's been another death."
Hermione whipped around in her chair to gape at Sherlock. He was holding back the curtain, red and blue lights reflecting on his face from the road below. Before she could ask how he knew, there was the sound of running on the staircase and a man Hermione had never seen before entered the room. His hair was greying and he looked back and forth between Hermione and John before spotting Sherlock by the window.
"When?" Sherlock asked, stepping forward and sliding his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.
"About two hours ago. I sent you and John a text." The man gestured at the doctor with his head. "You never answered."
"I was occupied with other activities." Sherlock waved off the man's comment, moving to stand behind Hermione's chair. He placed both hands on the top, narrowing his eyes at the man. "Lestrade, this better be worthy of the disruption to my evening."
Hermione swallowed, finally understanding who this man was. Greg Lestrade, the inspector from Scotland Yard that employed Sherlock from time to time. Standing, she approached him and held out her hand. "I'm Hermione Granger," she introduced herself. "I'm here working on the Moriarty case as well. What new information can you tell us?"
"Uh…" the Inspector looked confused, giving both John and Sherlock a wary look. When Sherlock rolled his eyes and nodded, indicating he could continue, Lestrade cleared his throat and revealed the news. "There's been another homicide linked to Moriatry, we believe."
"Who was killed?" Hermione asked, almost afraid of the answer. It was getting more difficult to hear about the Muggle, Muggleborn, and Halfblood deaths. She waited with bated breath as Lestrade flipped through his little notebook looking for the right name. In the silence, Hermione resumed her place on her chair, taking comfort that Sherlock was closeby.
"Creevy. Dennis Creevy. He was found dead in an alleyway near King's Crossing just past eight this evening. An 'I O U' was painted on the wall behind the body with the victim's own blood." Lestrade flipped the notebook shut and slid it back into his coat pocket.
Glad to already be sitting, Hermione felt all the blood rush from her head. Dennis Creevy. She'd gone to Hogwarts with him… And his brother, Colin, had died fighting in the Battle of Hogwarts. This was all too much. Jumping to her feet, she began pacing the floor between the chairs. She could feel the gazes of everyone on her as she wrapped her arms around her middle and attempted not to cry.
"You knew him."
Stopping, she turned towards Sherlock and nodded. "Yes. I went to school with him. He has a family. A wife and two or three kids, I believe." She swallowed, hard, tears definitely threatening to fall now. This was all too real. She wasn't supposed to be working on cases, yet here she was, right in the middle of it all.
"Who are you again?" Lestrade asked, giving her a penetrating stare. "Sherlock, why are you always involving civilians in the cases. Damn it, now I'm going to have to take her down to the station."
"Entirely out of the question, Lestrade," Sherlock snapped, stepping around the chair to place a comforting arm around Hermione's shoulders. "Hermione has previously worked as a Magical Law Enforcement officer and is the brightest witch of her age. She is not a suspect in this case. Too many of her people have been killed because of Moriarty. She is here to help bring him to justice."
"Her people?" Lestrade asked incredulously, glancing at John for backup.
"Here we go," John sighed, setting aside his empty teacup and preparing for an interesting show. He smirked up at his three companions, eagerly awaiting this revelation.
"Hermione is a witch."
"I'm sorry? Did I just hear you say she is a witch?" Lestrade was openly gaping at Hermione now, his eyes wide in disbelief. "Like with magical powers and spells?"
There was an awkward bit of silence where Hermione bit her lip, Sherlock stewed at Lestrade's obliviousness, and John just chuckled. Finally, it was Hermione who stepped forward, breaking the tension and exhaling harshly. So much for the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy...
"Um, yes. I'm a real witch. I have a wand and everything." Carefully, so as not to startle Lestrade, she extracted her wand from her pocket and levitated John's empty teacup for a moment before sending it towards the kitchen to settle in the sink. "Moriarty's been killing people of my kind. The ones not born from magical parents."
"Shit." Lestrade said running a hand through his grey hair as he dropped into Hermione's empty chair. "Got anything stronger than tea, John? This is going to be a long night."
