A/N. As usual, the dialogues and scenes are not mine but belong to the mighty Moftiss and BBC. I just borrow them for this story.
Lestrade finally finds Molly the perfect gift. He is so pleased with himself. As he slides the item over the counter for billing, his phone rings. He fishes it out of his pocket and brings it to his ear with a slightly annoyed "Hello?"
"Sebastian Moran has escaped."
"WHAT?"
Well there go the Christmas plans.
Flick. Another flick. John just stands there taking it. Sherlock keeps quite but he is seething inside. His whole Magnussen plan had got a lot messier.
Suddenly lights flood the backyard and the whirring of a helicopter is heard by all three of them.
Sherlock hears Mycroft speaking over the loudspeakers, "Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, step away from that man." He hears Magnussen saying, "They are harmless!"
Sherlock looks down at John. A plan forming in his head. He was never a man of sentiment, but John had made him a little more humane. He remembers his first and last vow he made at the wedding. He was never a man for promises but he had made one promise, and he will keep it.
He hears Magnussen saying, "Sorry no chance for you to be a hero this time Mr. Holmes!"
A hero? As if. Sherlock slips his hand in John's pocket for the gun and says, "Oh do your research. I am not a hero, I am a high-functioning sociopath. Merry Christmas!" He shoots Magnussen once and throws away the gun as he gets down on his knees. He shouts, "Get away from me John, stay well back!"
John cries, "Christ Sherlock!"
"Give my love to Mary. Tell her she is safe now."
Mycroft shouts. "Don't fire! Do not fire on Sherlock Holmes!" He takes of his headset and mutters, "Oh Sherlock. What have you done?"
Hermione is at the Burrow. It is two days after Christmas. She is not aware of the things Sherlock has done on Christmas. She is missing him, yes. She tried contacting him after Lestrade had called her two days before Christmas to say that Sebastian Moran has escaped. Even he could not contact Sherlock. She is now very worried. She hopes he is okay.
She is trying to keep herself distracted but it is not working. Even Lavender's presence at Burrow is not irking her. They—Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Harry are all seated in the backyard, talking about a particular article in today's issue of The Daily Prophet. It was about Pansy's murder by a Muggle man. Blaise Zabini's rise back from dead is not out yet.
Suddenly a black owl swoops down and lands in front of her. It has a note clutched to his beak. She extends her hand and grabs it. The owl, accomplishing its task, flies away. She opens the note. Only four words are scrawled on it—"I broke the Charm."
Her brain starts whirring. She knows who sent this and why. Harry sees her expression. He stands up too, and asks, "What is it?"
"I need to go to Paris." Hermione replies.
"Why?"
"It is urgent." Hermione starts walking away paying no heed to the rest of them asking her questions. Harry looks on quizzically.
Hermione goes up to her room. Rose has her nose buried in a book. She says her goodbye and collecting her wand, apparates to 5th Arrondissement Latin Quarter.
Long-distance apparitions always made her dizzy. But she squashes her unease and starts looking for flat no. 201. She finds it. The Fidelius Charm broken. So Blaise was the secret keeper.
She mutters, "Alohomora." The door swings open. She steps in the flat. It is moderately sized. She stands in the foyer and looks around for a switch. Finally locating one, she flips it on.
A layer of dust covers everything. She murmurs, "Homenum Revelio." When it is indicated there are no other humans around, she ventures in.
She makes way to Pansy's bedroom first. She does not know what she is looking for. But she starts searching the place. She opens drawers and cupboards. Then, she does not know why, but she decides the check under the mattress. She slips her hand underneath it and her hand touches something hard and slim, she takes it out, it is a little black notebook.
She frowns. Maybe this could tell her something. Answer her doubts. The doubt that had been eating her ever since Blaise got arrested. It had changed to a full-fledged suspicion after he escaped. She opens it when her phone rings.
Sherlock stands in his living room for what he thinks is his last time here. Mycroft has said he would not last six months in the place he is being sent. Well, better than prison any day.
He needs to say goodbye to this place. He does not why but he needs to say goodbye to her. He goes downstairs. But she is not back yet. He stands in front of the closed door and hesitates. He finally makes up his mind and dials her number. She picks up at the first ring.
"Hello? Sherlock?" he can hear the concern in her voice. He had seen her missed calls.
"Hello Hermione."
She feels as if something is wrong, "Sherlock what is going on? You sound different."
"I am leaving."
"What? Where are you going?"
"Leaving London."
"Why?"
"I did something. It was necessary. Mycroft is sending me away."
"What? I don't—you know what, stay where you are, I am coming! Where are you?" He hesitates. She says, in a firm voice, "Sherlock?"
He sighs, "In front of your flat."
He hears a sound behind him. He knows that sound. He turns around.
Hermione stands there looking at him. He looked different. A little less pompous. A little less arrogant. She frowns, "Sherlock?"
He says, "It is a long story."
She comes closer, "Tell me anyway." She unlocks her flat and walks in. He follows her. She stands in the middle of the room and looks up at him, waiting for him to start.
He sighs, "I killed a man."
Hermione inhales sharply as the notebook she had been clutching in her hand, falls to the ground, "Why?"
"To save someone's life. John's life." He decides she does not need to know about Mary. The less she knows the better.
She mutters, "Mycroft is sending you somewhere because, well, there will be riots in whichever prison they send you to, right?"
Sherlock gives her a sad smile. She smiles back, she asks, "Was it justified, this killing? In your head?"
He murmurs, "Yes." He adds as an afterthought, " Mycroft says I won't last six months where he is sending me."
She does not say anything. She feels her heart aching and tears threatening to fall. This brilliant man had so much heart, yet he would keep denying it. He would kill anyone to save the life of his one best friend. She walks up to him and throwing her arms around his torso, hugs him. Sherlock, unlike the previous time, wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her bushy hair.
She puts her head on his chest and listens to his heart. Pounding away steadily. She may never see him again. She decides this is now or never. She pulls back and looks at him. She puts both her hands on his cheek. Pulling his face down, she gently puts her lips on his'. She places her hand at the back of his neck, slowly stroking the short dark curls at the base like she always wanted to. She feels him shiver slightly under her touch.
Sherlock is at first, completely surprised by her action. But the soft pressure on his lip and the smell of summer in his nose tugs at him as his body takes over his mind. He kisses her back. He presses her closer to his chest. He strokes her back as she lets out a little gasp.
Hermione had thought he would push her away or something. She gasps in surprise when she feels his lips moving and the grip around her tightening. She tugs at his curls with both of her hands as she gently nips at his full bottom lips, asking for access. He gives in.
It is a soft, tender kiss between a man who had never wanted to kiss a woman before but her and a woman who knew she would ultimately never get this man. Finally they break off, when oxygen is needed. She looks down at his neck as she tries to bring back her breathing to normal. She can see his chest rising and falling, definitely trying to calm down as well.
He moves his hands from her shoulder and cradles her face. He cups her face and looks down at those warm brown eyes he will miss and say, "I—goodbye Hermione."
He kisses her on her forehead and then moves backwards. He walks back to the door, never breaking eye contact with her. He opens the door and then turns around and leaves.
Hermione whispers as she sees the tail of his coat, "Goodbye Sherlock."
She does not cry. But she knows she will, not now but later. Right now all she feels is this ache and this empty feeling she cannot wish away. She slumps down to the floor. Her eyes rest on the fallen notebook, lying there neglected. She picks it up. A loose page falls from it. She crinkles her forehead and picks it up.
"Fluxweed, knotgrass, lacewing flies, leeches, bicorn horn, bloomslang skin" it is written in pansy's handwriting, "Blaise says it is for his friend Rich Brook. I think I might have seen him somewhere…"
Hermione reads the friends name twice, blinking fast and breathing hard. She tries remembering where she had heard that name. She almost stops breathing when she remembers.
A/N. Oh yes...I know. I love mush. And suck at writing kissing scenes...