Blaise has stupefied Sherlock. Hermione mutters, "Ennervate." Sherlock opens his eyes. He tries sitting up, but he feels weak. His muscles do not support him all of a sudden. His lungs are fighting for air. What was that?
Hermione sniffles. She does not feel sure about a side-along apparition now. But she really cannot support his weight and drag him to a cab. She sees his face twisted in pain and agony and throws caution to the wind. She clutches his arm and closes her eyes.
Sherlock is somewhere between unconscious and awake. The squeezed in a tube sensation returns, except this time it feels a hundred times worse. He also feels a sharp stab of pain in his right leg.
They apparate on the floor of his living room. She is exhausted. She hears him whimper beside her on the floor, "My leg."
Hermione sits up straight. She leans down to inspect his leg. He had been splinched. Panic grips her as she sees the blood oozing out from his right leg. She shakes her panic off. He is losing blood and the colour is fading from his face. She summons a scissor and rips the fabric. She almost cries when she sees a substantial amount of flesh missing. She summons her little bag, hoping fervently she had packed the bottle of Dittany. She sobs in relief when she finds the little bottle. She sniffs, "This will sting a little." She drops a few drops of the essence on the wound. He hisses as the essence starts working. Then she mutters, "Ferula" and bandages wrap around his leg
Hermione wipes her tears. She looks at his face. He looks back, his face deadly pale. She would like to give him some blood replenishing potion but she had not packed that. She conjures a Patronus and sends it to Ginny requesting the potion. Then she asks him, "Can you walk?"
Sherlock tries sitting up straight but his head feels dizzy. Blood loss, he muses. Hermione stands up and extends her hands. He takes it. He stumbles a little as his leg screams as soon as he puts pressure on it. She supports him by the waist as they slowly make way to his bedroom.
She lays him down on the bed. She props a pillow under his head. He opens his mouth to speak, but she puts a finger against his lips and says, "Later. Right now you just lie down. Please."
He obeys her and lies back on the pillow, closing his eyes. Hermione walks out to the kitchen. She spots the little blood pool on the carpet and winces. Where is Ginny with her potion?
She hears the bell ring. She mutters, "Finally." She opens the door and waits. Then instead of Ginny, Harry Potter walks in. Hermione gasps, "Oh shit."
Harry hands her the little bottle and eyes the blood on the floor. He raises an eyebrow and says, "Ginny was not home. I got the Patronus. Now will you tell me, what is going on? I called her and asked this address."
She takes a bottle. Walking into the kitchen she says, "Give me a minute. I need to make some tea."
She makes the tea and pours the potion into the mug. She takes it to Sherlock's bedroom. She stops at the door, turns around and signals Harry to follow her.
Sherlock sees Hermione enter with a mug in her hand. She sits down beside him and says, "Here, drink this. It will make you feel better."
He takes the mug and sips it slowly as he eyes the dark haired stranger looking around warily. Hermione says, "That's Harry Potter, my friend. And Harry this is Sherlock Holmes."
He puts down the mug. He says, "You can sit down, you know. You have a lot of questions and you are wondering if I know your secret. Since you must be Hermione's friend, I can correctly assume, you must be a wizard too."
Harry's face betrays how surprised he feels. He looks at Hermione who gives him a lopsided smile, and says, "Yeah he is amazing like that."
Sherlock does not know if it is the blood loss or something but he takes a certain satisfaction at her words. He drinks some more from the mug.
Harry sits down at the other edge of the bed. His face turns serious, he asks, "Now, I'd like some answers."
Hermione sighs and begins to tell him everything from the beginning with Sherlock's help. From the discovery of the body by Dudley ("He never told me anything!" Harry interjects) to the attack on them in the alley by Blaise.
Harry, after hearing the narrative, exhales, "Blaise? How is that possible?"
Hermione shrugs. Harry stands up and says, "Okay. I won't tell anyone. No need to spread this beyond you, me, Mr. Holmes and the Minister. Though I did hear rumours about the body and you on this case, I didn't believe it because you said you were done with this life." Harry smiles at the last sentence.
Hermione flushes and says, "I never learnt how not to be curious."
"Being curious is not a bad thing," Sherlock says softly and suddenly he feels very tired.
After Harry leaves, Sherlock falls asleep; Hermione busies herself with cleaning the stain on the carpet. She channels all her rage she had for Blaise into scrubbing the carpet. She knew she could use magic, but the Muggle way was more satisfying than a swish with a wand. He hurt Sherlock, how dare he? Hermione stops scrubbing and feels sad all of a sudden. What happens when this case is solved and Blaise is behind bars? Will they remain friends? Are they even friends? Mrs. Hudson had said, Sherlock did not have many friends. He was difficult, different, blah blah blah. But Hermione did not mind his little idiosyncrasies. Sure they were irritating, but then she guessed every genius is a little flawed.
She suddenly hears a noise from his bedroom. She walks quickly and hears him muttering. She thinks he says "Hermione". She leans down and whispers, "Sherlock?"
Sherlock is not actually awake. He is having a nightmare. The black hood and the red light and that unimaginable pain. But instead of him being attacked, he sees a woman on the ground, she has massive brown curls. Her petrified brown eyes are tearful and pleading him to do something, but he cannot even move. He feels paralyzed.
Hermione swipes away a stray strand of dark hair off his forehead and says, "It is okay." She hears the bell ring. She stands up straight and moves when Sherlock grabs hold of her wrist. He says, "Hermione?"
She sits down again and sees he has his eyes opened but she realizes he is still in a trance. She says, "I am here, I will be right back," she kisses him on his forehead, "Close your eyes." He obeys her and turns to his side.
She walks to the window and curses under hear breath. It is DI Lestrade. She almost hyperventilates when an idea forms in her head. She fixes her clothes and cleans up the remaining mess and sits down on a chair. For precautionary measures, she casts a silencing charm around Sherlock's bedroom.
Lestrade opens the door and stands there, a little perplexed as to why that woman he met in his office last month is sitting in this flat. Hermione acts surprised and says, "Detective Inspector Lestrade?"
"Uh, Miss Granger, right?" Lestrade says.
"Yes. Yes. I am waiting for Sherlock. He asked me to come here." She prays he would accept this lie.
"I came to meet him too. He said he had something to tell me. The nice landlady showed me up," she looks at her watch, "So far I have been waiting."
Lestrade smiles apologetically as he takes a seat, "He tends to do that."
Hermione nods. "So any progress?"
"Well…you are still on this case?"
"My employer wants me to."
"Oh. Who is that, by the way?"
"Sorry, can't disclose that."
"Well then, we found something on the bullets. I texted Sherlock but I think he is too busy to notice. The bullets are originally American. They first appeared in Miami, Florida. They were made illegal there years ago. These bullets were specifically made to go through bulletproof vests. Cop killers in short. Since Dahlia was not wearing any vest, the bullet shattered on impact."
Hermione nods thinking how could have Blaise gotten hold of illegal American bullets. Lestrade gets a call. He picks it up and talks into it. He rises up and says, "Well I got to go. A homicide beckons. Can you tell Sherlock to contact me when he gets here?"
"Sure," Hermione says.
Later, after tucking Rose in, she returns upstairs to check on Sherlock again. She finds him in the kitchen, munching on toast. He notices her coming and asks, "So…"
"Yeah. I should tell you, Lestrade came around. He had information about the bullets." Hermione repeats what Lestrade told her. Sherlock puts down the toast as he chews and crinkles his nose. He says, "How can Blaise get those bullets?"
"I wondered the same."
Sherlock walks into the living room and sits down in his chair. He says, "I need to ask you things."
"Okay. I know what you will ask," Hermione says, taking a seat opposite him, "It was the Cruciatus curse. It is an Unforgivable Curse, meaning it is illegal. It is a torture curse. Prolonged attack can kill people."
"Oh. I had another question."
"Okay."
"Why do Millicent and Astoria not like you?"
Hermione laughs darkly, "Because blood matters! And oh, Astoria found me and Draco snogging like there is no tomorrow at a Ministry event. They were very much married and I was separated from Ron by then. She was furious!"
Sherlock laughs, "So my assumption about you and Draco was correct," then he frowns, "but the blood thing, I don't understand."
"In the wizarding world, there are three kinds of wizards. The high class of wizards called Purebloods, who have parents both magical, like Draco, Astoria, and Pansy. Half-bloods come next, who either have a father or a mother who is a witch. And the lowliest of them all are the Muggle-borns, like me. So you can see why they don't like me. I have worked hard to erase such differences, but a little bit of discrimination still remains." Hermione unconsciously starts rubbing her left arm where Bellatrix Lestrange had forever left her mark.
Sherlock sees her rubbing her arm. He reaches out and pulls it. He pushes the sleeve back as Hermione tries to resist. He sees the faint outline of a scar on her flesh. He can read 'mudblood' on her arm. It looked old, at least fifteen to sixteen years old. He traced the scar causing shivers to run up Hermione's arm, who stoically tries ignoring it. He mumbles, "What is mudblood?"
"A derogatory term for Muggle-born witches and wizards."
"Who did this?" Sherlock asks softly. His fingers still touching her arm.
Hermione looks into his blue-green eyes. She sighs, "Once, while hiding from Voldemort, we were kidnapped and taken to a place. There, a psychopath named Bellatrix Lestrange carved this into my arm after torturing me. They were other like her too. Most of my school life was spent with people who thought Muggle-borns were freaks and deserved annihilation." Without any warning, a single teardrop escapes from her tear ducts and starts rolling down her cheek at the memories that she cannot delete from her system.
Sherlock reaches out and puts his thumb to her cheek, wiping the tear. He says softly, "People think I am a freak too."
Hermione smiles, "But you are brilliant. You show-off a little, but brilliant nevertheless."
"You are quite brilliant yourself."
Hermione blinks. His thumb is still on her cheek. Her heart beats faster all of a sudden. She comes to a realization when Sherlock takes his thumb away and coughs. He stands up and says, "It is getting late. You should go sleep. Goodnight."
He slams the door behind after he enters his bedroom leaving Hermione outside freaking out just a little bit. She realizes she might just like him a little bit.
The days pass. Sherlock takes a private case. Hermione teaches Rose to multiply while working on a new international project at the Ministry. Sometimes Sherlock wonders if Hermione did kiss him on the forehead or was he just dreaming. Sometimes Hermione wonders does he remember the incident that happened that night at all. Sherlock however, pretends not to think about that night.
It is the first of October when John returns. He finds Sherlock, eyes closed, lost in his mind palace. He has already heard from Mrs. Hudson about the new tenants at 221C. John decides to pay a visit.
Hermione hears a knock on her door. She opens it to come face to face with John Watson. Both are shocked.
John says, "You…here…what?"
Hermione says, "Well…umm…"
A deep voice from behind says, "Miss Granger needed new accommodation and I referenced this place."
They both turn to see Sherlock standing with his arms crossed at the back and an impassive look on his face.
John is still speechless and Hermione does not know whether to slam the door on his face or stand there silently playing dumb. She decides to talk instead, "Yes. We met that day, discussing the case when I might have mentioned my requirement for a place to stay. He very, graciously, informed me about this place."
John gapes and says, "That is very nice, very nice indeed of him to do so. Good day Miss Granger."
John walks up the stairs and enters their flat. He sits down on his chair and grins. He hears Sherlock enter. He turns around and says, "Since when do you help attractive brunettes to look for a place to stay?"
Sherlock frowns. He knows where John is going. He says, "John, I know you know that I am married to my work. I don't do sentiments. And I don't invest time in such silly pursuits."
"Yeah right. Don't forget I remember the look on your face that day in Lestrade's office."
"What look?"
"The look of being completely and utterly impressed."
Sherlock would like to retort, but he cannot come up with anything suitable. Fine, John can win this round.
John gives a satisfied smile when he hears the door of Sherlock's bedroom slamming loudly.
Millicent closes her shop at around nine. The two lower floors are used for the bakery, while the upper floor is her residence. She has a wedding to go to tomorrow. The icing and trimmings are half done. She is also wondering if she should have told Granger the entire truth. She trudges upstairs, the stairs creaking one at a time. When she tries opening her door, she realizes it is already open. Panic flares her blood. She has nothing valuable here, save some loose cash and her mothers' diamond earrings. She tiptoes in. It is dark. Not a sound to be heard. Suddenly the lights go on. She sees the man standing a few feet away from her. Her bag drops on the flower.
"You-" before she can finish her sentence, green light fills the room.