Chapter 15

"Sherlock," John said, once the long day was finally over and Harry was fast asleep snuggled between the two, "Since when can you do magic?" Sherlock didn't bother to look up from his laptop but he did manage to answer in a gentle, low voice.

"Do you mean, since when can I manipulate glutinic energies?"

"Yes, fine, that. The thing you did with the stick."

"Hoaxwood doesn't just make brooms. And I could hardly play the role of a wizard and not have a working wand to show for it. I had it custom made to not look like a toy. It has its limitations of course; I can only cast three 'spells' at the moment and the wand has to be recharged after I use it ten times. It's also weak in the face of a glutinium sensitive's attack; in fact the first shield I did was broken but our talismans were enough to absorb the energy. I'm hoping to find a way to upgrade the wand soon; ten uses only is quite frankly ridiculous and I really want to expand on its abilities. These sensitives have no imagination with their own capabilities! We'll have to make sure Sherry doesn't fall prey to the same limitations."

John considered all of this. Sherlock continued doing whatever it was he was doing with his laptop.

"Why didn't you get me a stick thing?" John asked at last, his voice deceptively calm. Sherlock, detecting the danger within that tone, paused with his fingers over the keyboard.

"You're meant to be a non-sensitive," he said, after a moment, "Non-sensitives don't have wands."

"Non-sensitives don't have brooms," John pointed out, "But I'm still taking flying lessons with Patrick and Kate this weekend."

"Non-sensitives don't have glutinium energized brooms," Sherlock corrected as he slowly resumed typing.

"Call them what you like, I still want to know why you get to have a wand and I don't!" His voice got louder for a moment and from the corner of the room Sophie hooted softly at him, her eyes shining like small moons in the dim light. John eyed her warily, still wondering how it came about that the owl had to spend the night in their room. It was distinctly creepy to glance over and see her eyes staring at them.

"Hush, John, you're going to wake Sherry," Sherlock admonished, "And you never seemed interested before in acquiring glutinic items."

"Fine. Sherlock. I want a wand. There, is that showing enough interest?"

"Fine."

John tried to go to sleep. Sherlock continued to mess with his laptop. The owl continued to stare at them from across the room. Harry made hissing noises in his sleep.

John had fallen asleep under worse conditions. He slept.

The next day, he woke up to an empty bed and an equally empty owl stand. He found all three missing persons downstairs in the experiment flat. Sherlock had his medallion out and his wand, and he was talking to Harry and the owl who both looked on with intense interest.

"Of course, we'll need to find a real snake to be certain," Sherlock was saying as John walked in, "But for now we can…oh, John. You're awake."

"What's this about needing a real snake?" John asked with a resigned air as he reached over to ruffle Harry's unruly hair.

"It's something one of the non-sensitives said yesterday, after Harry sent away the snakes. You heard Harry speaking, didn't you?"

"Of course," John answered, still not seeing what Harry's phenomenal magical feat had to do with finding more snakes.

"Apparently, no one else did. Take off your talisman and I'll show you."

"Right. Take off the talisman we were told to never ever take off or experiment on. The extremely old talisman that apparently protected us yesterday. That one."

"Yes, that one. Take it off."

With a sigh, John took his talisman off. It came off quite easily even though the cord had felt very short around his neck before.

"Go on, Sherry," Sherlock said to Harry, "Tell the snake hello." He was pointing at a picture of a cobra poised to strike. Harry happily leaned over and spoke. It sounded like a hiss. Sherlock beamed at John.

"See?" he said.

"So he knows what sound a snake makes. Ok? Good job, Harry?" Sherlock gave him the usual look of contempt when he thought John was missing the obvious again.

"Watch his lips, John, his lips! Go on, Sherry."

Yet again, Harry leaned over and hissed. John obediently watched his lips. Then once again Sherlock looked at him expectantly.

"Right," said John. He yawned. "I need some breakfast. Have you eaten yet, Harry?"

Harry considered this question carefully, his eyes glancing towards Sherlock in case the correct answer could be found there.

"Is food all you can think about!" Sherlock exclaimed in annoyance. The owl and John both turned unimpressed glares on him. Harry looked worried. Sherlock looked back and forth between them and his shoulders slumped slightly. "I mean, eating three balanced meals a day is very important for our health. Perhaps this can wait until after breakfast."

"Good boy," said John, reaching over to stick one of Harry's 'good behavior' stickers on Sherlock's forehead. Harry giggled. John gave him one too.

Before Sherlock could decide how to respond to his sticker, there was a knock at the front door.

"Door, John," Sherlock said, shoving his talisman back at him, before grabbing Harry up. "If it's Lestrade, tell him to check on the next door neighbor's iguana." And that said, Sherlock bounded out of the flat and up the stairs to 221b. The knock at the door came again.

"Are one of you boys going to get that?" Mrs. Hudson asked, sticking her head out of her own door, "Only my hairs still up in curlers."

"I have it, Mrs. Hudson," John assured her. Then the doorbell rang.

With a sigh, John went to answer it. For reasons unknown, Sophie decided that she needed to come too and swooped down to settle on his shoulder, her talons ripping holes into his top. Deciding it was too early to care what people would think of the owl and resigned to his life, John opened the door.

It was not Lestrade waiting outside, or in fact anyone they knew. There was a man of average height and build wearing nice but worn clothing and a nervous expression. He glanced at Sophie but didn't seem overly surprised that John had answered with an owl on his shoulder.

"Yes?" John asked politely, trying to decide if he was a client or a salesman or if he was dangerous.

"I was told there's a nanny position at this address," the man said, still looking nervous and slightly confused, as though he didn't know why he was there himself, "And I was told to tell you my name is Mary?"

"Oh," John said, "Right." Of course Mycroft hadn't given up on sending them nannies. John was silly to have hoped. Still feeling a bit guarded, especially after the day before, John nonetheless stepped back and let the man come inside.

"If you'll wait here, just a moment," John told him, trying and somewhat failing to offer the man a smile. Then he ran upstairs. Sophie fluttered indignantly at the sudden movement and swooped away into the kitchen while John went searching for his phone. He found it in the third place he looked inside Sherlock's coat pocket.

"John," Mycroft said on the second ring, "I take it the new nanny has arrived?"

"So you did send him, then? And does this one actually have any credentials besides bodyguard?"

"He was quite a find, actually. Good with a wand, was a soldier, but not quite so…military oriented as my last candidate. He came very highly recommended. And he's agreed to work seven days a week, day and night if you request it of him. All he asks in return is that he be given five days off every 22.33 days. He's also quite used to…eccentrics and he says he rather enjoys working with children. Do try to not scare this one away."

So with his presence confirmed, John reluctantly walked past the kitchen and the appetizing smells of food being made to go back down the stairs and allow the new Mary up.

"We'll give you a trial period of three days," John told him as he led him inside, "If you haven't run screaming by then, and if Harry seems to like you, we'll consider taking you on."

"Thank you," the man answered, still looking a bit confused. John didn't blame him; that's how most people reacted to an encounter with Mycroft.

Introducing the new nanny had become rather routine. The nanny would arrive at the flat, tell them his or her name was Mary and that they had been assigned as a nanny. Sherlock would look the person up and down, name every character flaw and reason why they are the last person suited to look after Harry, and nine times out of ten send them away. Half those times John would go and fetch the person back before they could leave, scold Sherlock that being 'too boring' is in fact a plus in a nanny, and let them have the three day trial. None of the nannies Mycroft had selected lasted longer than two days. If they didn't in fact turn out to be useless with children or to scare Harry just by their looming presence, they would turn out to have a strange aversion to being experimented on.

This man didn't look like he'd be any different. He followed John into the kitchen and then just stopped and stared at Harry with an almost frightened expression on his face. He stared and he stared, to the point of being a bit creepy. John tried to decide if the look meant he was actively afraid of children; that had been the case with one of the nannies Mycroft had sent. She had lasted a record twenty-three minutes while Sherlock watched gleefully before John put the woman out of her misery and told her he didn't think it was going to work out. He'd never seen anyone so relieved to be sacked. This look spoke of stories in this man's past though, something disturbing. It wasn't a phobia. John wasn't sure what it was, or if it was the sort of look John wanted people to be giving Harry. He thought that if Sherlock sent this one packing John might just let him go.

Sherlock was staring at him intently, not that the man had noticed since his eyes were still on Harry. Harry seemed oblivious, whispering something to Sophie while pushing beans about his plate with a slice of apple.

"Harry?" whispered the man, and Harry turned his head at last to look at him. There was a moment of quiet in the kitchen while everyone seemed to be studying each other. Some toast popped up from the toaster.

"You're not a pedo," Sherlock announced after his scrutiny was finished, making the man start and turn his attention to the other people at last, "You aren't showing any signs of arousal, and Mycroft's background checks are very exact, and if you always behaved this way around children he never would have sent you. This is something else. It isn't children…it's a child. A boy, this boy in particular. He reminds you of a child you knew, perhaps a child you lost. But no…you said his name. It isn't just a child you lost, and it isn't the ridiculous hero worship the glutinium sensitives are prone to…no attention to the scar…you know him…you were a friend of his parents. You have experience fighting; your muscles are well developed, the way you hold yourself, and of course Mycroft wouldn't send someone who couldn't handle threats. You have been sick though…chronically ill…you have difficulty keeping up your weight or in keeping a job. Your clothes are of good quality but threadbare, old, you have not been able to update your wardrobe in some time. The fit is for a slightly larger man but they're not second hand, if you had needed second hand clothes Mycroft would have outfitted you better than this. These are your own clothes from years ago, before you lost the weight. There's something else…you have a secret. It can't be a horrible one or Mycroft wouldn't send you…but you flinched when I said 'horrible'. There's something…something I'm not seeing, something I don't know enough to see…"

"Does this mean he's staying?" John asked after Sherlock seemed to be done or at least his deduction had trailed off into inaudible mumbles.

"With a mystery like that hanging about him?" Sherlock asked, sounding aghast and delighted all at the same time, "Of course he's staying!"

"Oh," said the man, looking rather dazed and twice as confused as before, "Thank you?"

"Don't mind him; he's always like that," John said, "I'm John Watson, by the way, I don't know what Mycroft's told you about us. Come over here, Harry, and say hello to…er…are we sticking with Mary?"

"Actually, I'd prefer it if you called me Remus. Remus Lupin." That was new. All the other Marys had stuck with Mary as their name. Perhaps it was a sign that this one really would be sticking around. Harry slowly approached them, coming over to John's side and half hiding behind him.

Remus smiled at him and held out a hand.

"Hello," he said, "My name is Remus. I knew your mum and dad."

"I'm Sherrinford Holmes," Harry answered, taking the hand but not letting go of John with his other hand. Remus looked a bit surprised by that introduction and John watched warily. Someone who knew his parents probably wouldn't take kindly to the name change. Remus didn't stop smiling, though.

"It's very nice to meet you, Sherrinford," he said. Harry ducked his head.

"Alright, Harry," John said, "You can go finish your breakfast."

To John's surprise, instead of running back to the safety of his seat, Harry slowly unwound himself from John's leg and approached Remus, his eyes looking him over in a manner strangely reminiscent of Sherlock. John half expected Harry to suddenly start spouting out observations.

"Are you hungry, Mr. Remus?" Harry asked, "Dad…Daddy Sherlock said you lost too much weight. You can eat my breakfast."

John blinked, both at Harry's new way of calling Sherlock and at his sudden desire to feed Remus.

"Mr. Remus can have his own food if he wants some," Sherlock said before John could react further, "You eat your food and we'll eat ours."

And so all four of them, five if you counted Sophie, settled down to a surprisingly pleasant morning.

Then Sherlock got a case.