She contemplates opening when Sherlock speaks up, "I know you are there. I called Mycroft and I never call anybody, especially him. He just laughed when I asked him about you. And you did leave me flat on my back in an alley. I don't know how you did it but you did steal a crucial piece of evidence."

Hermione mutters, "Ugh." Just then her phone rings. She fishes it out of her jacket pocket. "Blocked number". She frowns as she accepts the call. She says, "Hello?"

"Sorry for not calling earlier. But you can trust my little brother Miss Granger." And cut.

She has a good idea who that is. She just met both Holmes for all of five minutes and it felt like a lifetime. Well, if he thinks it is okay…Hermione opens the door.

Sherlock rushes in, turns around and fixes his icy blue stare on her. Maybe it is imagination but she feels the temperature drop from that glacial stare. She squares her shoulder and says, "Fine. Are you ready to believe anything?"

Sherlock narrow his eyes, "I believe in what I see."

"Good." Hermione brushes past him in to the living room. Sherlock follows. It is a moderately sized apartment with a tastefully decorated living room, three bedrooms and an open kitchen area. The most striking feature in this room is one floor-to-ceiling bookcase, literally overflowing with books. A high stack of books were stacked at the case's foot and he knows that laws of physics dictated that it should fall over but it was still erect.

Hermione sees him looking at the books suspiciously. Well now is a good time as any, she says, "Ahem," that gains his attention, "I can identify the victim."

Sherlock nods his head slowly. He asks the question that had been haunting him, "You know what that stick is, don't you?"

"Yes," Hermione whispers. She brings out her wand and the other wand. He looks at them both. His brain whirred and his heartbeat raced. He waited for her explanation. She finally speaks up, "It is a wand."

"A wand?" he asks, totally incredulous.

"Wait you said you believe what you see. So shut up and watch."

With that she grasps firmly the other wand and says, "Prior Incantato."

And then the wand quivered and silver light began to pour out from its tip. Sherlock stood there speechless. His brain is trying hard to come up with a logical explanation for that. Then the silver light morphed in to a wispy animal shape, a weasel to be exact. Then the most astounding thing happened, it started to speak! He heard it clearly, a high pitched female voice, "Draco, I think I am in trouble." And then the weasel dissolved in thin air.

Hermione takes a sharp breathe. Draco? The Draco Malfoy? She turns her head towards Sherlock. She almost giggles when she sees his mouth gaping open and his eyes glowing. She is pretty sure he is trying to explain what he saw.

"How?" he asks, his deep voice hoarse.

"Magic." She replies.

"But-"

"It is real Sherlock. Your brother knows. He is the connection between this world and our world."

Mycroft never told him. But then again he really would not tell him. And it is not really shocking that his elder brother had his fingers in this pie too. He cannot remember being this shocked, ever. Well, except for that night in Magnussen's office. He steeples his fingers and sits down on the sofa. Magic, he thinks, magic.

Hermione sits down beside him, keeping a wide berth and letting him take his own sweet time to absorb things. She knows he will have questions, and lots of them. Instead she steals a better glance at this detective. He really is gorgeous. She needs to Google him after he leaves.

"Okay," he finally says, "What was that? That thing you did? And who is Draco? You must know this person?"

Hermione laughs (she has a nice laugh, he thinks), "One at a time! That was Prior Incantato. It is a spell that reveals a wands last spell or cast, which means it shows the last thing the wand owner did with the wand. In this case, she cast a Patronus. I would tell you what it is in details, but for now, know this that she used it to send a message to a man named Draco. And you're right; I do know someone named Draco. Draco Malfoy, a schoolmate, which brings me to belief that the victim must have been a schoolmate too. And also to further substantiate my theory, this wand is twenty six years old. I bought my wand twenty six years ago too."

Sherlock listened to every word she said very attentively. He also took note of her facial reactions and body language—none proved she was lying. Plus he did see what she did. For now, 'magic' seemed the best explanation.

"Okay, then we need to talk to this Draco, then. I want to meet him too," he says

"Yes. I will send him a Patronus."

"Can you ask him to meet at 221B Baker Street?"

Hermione nods. He watches in awe as she picks up her own wand and mutters something and the same silver light flows out of her wand. Instead of a weasel, this silver light takes the shape of an otter. She speaks out loud, "Draco, Hermione here. I need to talk to you. Meet me at 221B Baker Street. Please, I beg, wear Muggle clothes." And then the otter skips out through the open window. "Okay, now we wait for him to reply back."

"Okay," Sherlock shifts, "What is a Muggle?"

Hermione laughs, "That is the word we, the wizarding community, use to call normal non-magical humans."

"Oh."

She shifts her position too as she leans back on her cushions, "You know, the thing you and your brother do, tell everything about people after observing them? I am pretty sure you two would have burnt at the stake in medieval times!"

Sherlock smirks, "Power of observation. No magic there."

"I know. It is pretty impressive."

"People usually think it is annoying."

"Annoying? Yes. But mostly awesome."

Sherlock looks at her warm caramel eyes. He can tell she was genuinely impressed. He feels weird at this. Not a lot of people are impressed with him. John is, but he knows John sometimes get impatient. The Woman was, but he was pretty sure she just wanted to seduce him. But Hermione is looking at him curiously, like she is trying to figure him out. He is trying to figure her out too.

She smiles warmly at him and a smile starts creeping up in his face too, but then a giant eagle owl perches at the window sill and interrupts the moment with a pompous hoot.

Hermione whips her head around. That is Draco's owl. Trust him to have an eagle owl. She walks up to it, unties the message from its feet and points it towards the water dish. The owl hops over and takes a deep drink. It ruffles bright copper feathers and looks expectedly at her. Hermione smile, "I don't need to message back." The owl blinks once and the spreading its wide wings, flies away.

Sherlock sees the entire interaction between the owl and Hermione. He says, "The owl seemed to understand you."

"Wizards use owls for posts because they are magical."

He scoffs, "What?"

"Yup."

He shakes his head, "The message?"

"Oh yeah," she says as she opens the note. She reads it aloud, "Dear Granger, I will be there in fifteen minutes. This better be good. Signed, Malfoy."

"I take it there's is no love lost between you two."

She blushes a little, "Nope. We were school rivals."

He notices her blush, but does not comment on it.