A Study in Magic
by Books of Change
Warning/Notes: This is a BBC Sherlock and Harry Potter crossover AU. The HP timeline and BBC Sherlock's timeline has been shifted forwards and backwards to match up. One major BBC Sherlock character's gender has changed for the sake of the plot. The story was planned and written before season 2 (but incorporating elements of thereof as much as possible). Readers beware!
Chapter Forty Nine: Pregnant Waiting
The questions related to Bartemius Crouch sacking his house-elf Winky lingered in Harry's mind like the heavy clouds of pewter grey that remained swirling overhead the next morning after the storm blew itself off. He and his friends went downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast. A few seats along the Gryffindor table, Fred, George, and Lee Jordan were discussing magical methods of aging themselves and bluffing their way into the Triwizard Tournament. They stopped their discussion when Professor McGonagall came over to hand out their new course schedules.
"Oh, Professor McGonagall, I wanted to ask you—" said Harry as he received his.
"Mr. Holmes wrote to me about your new sibling's upcoming birth, Potter," said Professor McGonagall. "Professor Dumbledore agreed you may visit during the weekends. Professor Lupin volunteered to act as chaperon."
Harry sighed in relief as he marvelled over Sherlock's unexpected bit of thoughtfulness. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, and congratulations," said Professor McGonagall, smiling briefly.
Harry checked his schedule whilst munching on toast.
"Today's not bad; outside all morning," said Ron, who was running his finger down the Monday column of his own schedule. "Herbology with the Hufflepuffs and Care of Magical Creatures… damn it, we're still with the Slytherins."
"Study of Ancient Runes this afternoon," Harry groaned. The Study of Ancient Runes was the subject he found most boring and pointless, apart from History of Magic. Professor Babbling kept making them memorize words straight out of a Rune dictionary and translate short, incomprehensible sentences that were of no practical use.
"You should've just signed up for two courses like me," said Ron.
"It's really not that hard, Harry," said Hermione. "Once you memorise all the basic Runes and grammar, everything becomes easier."
"Yes, thank you," Harry groused, feeling extremely annoyed at the reoccurring advice that was of no help to him.
"I see they've messed up your timetable again," said Ron, looking over at Hermione's schedule. "Is there any point asking how you're managing it all?"
"No," said Hermione shortly.
"Why are you doing all this?" Ron pressed. "Are you planning on working for the Ministry like Percy?"
"Well I don't know yet, but I'd like to keep all my options open."
"What if you end up needing Divinations?"
"I seriously doubt I'd want to work for something that requires Divinations," said Hermione haughtily.
"But what if—"
"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my timetable's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall and I've gone to all my classes without any problems last year. Isn't that enough?"
"But that's all you did last year: working and going to class," said Ron, but very quietly.
After breakfast, Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione set off to the lawns, trudged past the sodden vegetable patch and arrived in greenhouse three for Herbology. There Professor Sprout introduced them to a plant Harry, Ron and Hermione had read about, having come across it in a book when they were first years looking up scar removing potions for John, but hadn't actually seen: Bubotubers.
Bubotubers had to be the ugliest plants Harry had ever seen. Indeed, they looked less like plants than thick, black, giant slugs, protruding vertically out of the soil. Each was squirming slightly and had a number of large, shiny swellings that appeared to be full of liquid. The Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs spent the next hour squeezing the plants and collecting the pus, which was a thick yellowish-green liquid that smelled strongly of petrol. By the end of class, they'd collected several pints worth in glass bottles.
"No wonder people avoid even the diluted solution of this for pimples," Ron said, looking revolted as he squeezed the last Bubotuber with his dragon-hide gloved hands.
"I see you've read ahead, Weasley. Very good," said Professor Sprout, stoppering a bottle with a cork. "Bubotuber pus is an excellent remedy for the more stubborn forms of acne. This batch should stop students resorting to desperate measures to rid themselves of pimples."
"Like poor Eloise Midgen," said Hannah Abbott, a Hufflepuff, in a hushed voice. "She tried to curse hers off."
"Silly girl," said Professor Sprout, shaking her head. "But Madam Pomfrey fixed her nose back on in the end."
A booming bell echoed from the castle across the wet grounds, signalling the end of the lesson. The class separated; the Hufflepuffs climbing the stone steps for Transfiguration, and the Gryffindors heading in the other direction, down the sloping lawn toward Hagrid's small wooden cabin, which stood on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"Wonder what we're going to handle this time," said Harry, eyeing the crates behind Hagrid's hut warily.
"Hopefully not the Clabberts again," said Neville, looking fearful. They'd paid their first trip to the Forbidden Forest last year in search of the creatures, which looked like a hairless cross between a monkey and a frog, and a large pustule in the middle of its forehead. The Clabberts themselves were quite harmless, but the creatures they met besides the Clabberts left several of their classmates, Malfoy in particular, extremely traumatized.
"Maybe he brought in a baby Yeti?" Ron wondered, looking furtively around.
"Don't give him ideas," hissed Hermione
They heard the giant, squelchy footsteps that could only belong to one person.
"Mornin'!" Hagrid said, grinning. "Be'er wait fer the Slytherins. We're studyin' Bowtruckles terday!"
"That's not too bad," said Harry. "Bowtruckles are rated XX."
"Oh, Harry, think!" said Hermione, bunching up her bushy hair in both fists. "Do you see any logs or trees around here where they could be living in? That means…"
"…The Forbidden Forest," Harry, Ron and Neville groaned together.
"Righ' yeh are," said Hagrid happily. "If we find them Bowtruckles early, we migh' get a chance ter work on a speci'l project I've bin workin' on—Blast-ended Skrewts!"
"Do we even want to know?" muttered Seamus.
"I refuse," said a cold voice.
The Slytherins had arrived. The speaker was Draco Malfoy, and he was trying to hide his fear without much success.
"I refuse to go into that godforsaken place again for wood sprits," Malfoy spat. "My father will never stand for it. Bring them over here if you want to teach us about them."
The Slytherins murmured in agreement. Harry and his fellow Gryffindors refused to agree on principle.
"You're going to do what you're told, boy!" barked Professor Kettleburn, pointing a digit on his clamp at Malfoy as he marched unevenly towards them. "What's the use of studying a Bowtruckle in a cage?! If you're going to study wild magical creatures, you study them as close to their natural habitat as you can!"
"I wouldn't mind studying them in captivity first," Ron murmured into Harry's ear.
But there was no avoiding a trip. It was either the Forbidden Forest or whatever creature Hagrid was working on. Hagrid simply loved monstrous creatures, the more lethal the better, and if the gamekeeper/Assistant Professor for Care of Magical Creatures was excited to share a creature in the centre of his 'special project', the particular creature's lethalness was probably off the charts. At least the Forbidden Forest had creatures they could recognise.
The trip to the Forbidden Forest was the typical debacle. Hagrid managed to find a tree several Bowtruckles had made home in after twenty minutes of walking. Malfoy almost got his eyes gouged out by the aforementioned Bowtruckles when Professor Kettleburn ordered the class to offer them woodlice so they could draw nearer. Then Hagrid had to save Professor Kettleburn from the giant vine plant that partially digested him just after they'd saved Malfoy from certain blindness. On their way back, they had an encounter with a Forest Troll, who took a great liking to Gregory Goyle and tried to kidnap him.
Then they met the skrewts.
It was as they feared. The Blast-Ended Skrewts looked like deformed, shell-less lobsters, horribly pale and slimy-looking, with legs sticking out in very odd places and no visible heads. There were about a hundred of them in the crates Hagrid showed to the class, each about six inches long, crawling over one another, bumping blindly into the sides of the boxes. They gave off a very powerful smell of rotting fish, and every now and then, sparks would fly out of the end of a skrewt, and with a small phut, it would be propelled forward several inches. Hagrid was suggesting they find out what they ate, waving a hand over a barrel full of grass snakes, frog liver and ant eggs, when the bell rang.
"Well, at least the skrewts are small," said Ron as they made their way back up to the castle for lunch.
"They are now," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "but once Hagrid's found out what they eat, I expect they'll be six feet long."
"Why is he even raising them?" Neville wondered as he massaged the burn on the back of his hand (one of the Skrewts had exploded on him when he got too close). "D'you think it's for the Triwizard Tournament?"
"If it is, I'm glad we're not competing," Harry declared. "I don't ever want to face something that's six feet long and can burn, sting, and bite all at once."
Ron, Neville and Hermione nodded fervently in agreement.
They sat down at the Gryffindor table and helped themselves to lamb chops and potatoes. Julia came over from the Great Hall's entrance and joined them at their table.
"Uncle Jeremy wants to talk to you," said Julia to Ron. "When are you free?"
"Dunno. All depends on how much homework Professor Burbage gives us," said Ron.
"Do you have any clue what's in store?" asked Harry.
"No. Auntie Jack isn't helping Professor Burbage this year."
"Why not?" asked both Harry and Ron, equally disappointed at the news. Miss Jackie's Muggle Study classes were always more interesting than Professor Burbage's and she rarely gave out homework.
"She says she's trying not to work too much," Julia replied. "I think she's actually serious about it; she even quit her engineering job."
Harry, Ron, Neville and Hermione stared in disbelief.
"First she cancels a lesson, now she's quitting two of her jobs?" said Harry in astonishment. "What's going on?"
"Maybe she turned a new leaf?" said Hermione. "I mean, we've always worried she'd work herself to death…"
Julia laughed hollowly. "Only Auntie Jack."
"Do you know why?"
"I think I do, but until I see it myself, I'm in denial," Julia declared.
Harry thought this sounded very familiar. "Why don't you ask?"
"I don't want to."
"C'mon, don't you want to know?" said Ron.
Julia glared at him.
"Can you ask your mother who she first kissed? Would you ask her if she ever went up a secret nook after curfew with your dad when they were students?" Ron blanched. "See, you don't."
"What you just said wouldn't have some relation to your suspicions, would it?" said Harry shrewdly.
Julia cringed. "No. Nononono, we're not going to talk about this!"
"Fine. Meet you at the music classroom after dinner?"
"Sure, midget."
"Thank you, brainy specs."
"You're welcome, fatally myopic geek," Julia retorted. "I have to go. See you."
She went away, shouldering her bulging white tote.
"What?" Harry said, when he noticed Ron was smirking.
"Well…" said Ron. "It seemed like you were—"
Harry decided then and there he categorically and absolutely didn't want this to continue.
"I've got a case to solve and it's big," he said loudly.
"What, already?" said Ron, completely derailed, just as Harry hoped.
"I'll tell you after Ancient Runes. I've got some thinking to do," said Harry. Then he helped himself to more lamb chops.
-oo00oo-
Harry told Neville, Ron and Julia all about Winky over dinner as promised. It took a bit of explaining to make them (Ron particularly) appreciate the seriousness of the matter.
"So Crouch sacked Winky; what's the big deal?" Ron asked.
"The problem is Pettigrew," said Harry. "Where is he? What is he up to? The whole Wizarding world is after him, but he hasn't been found. Also, who helped him escape? The person who attacked Crouch was probably the person who rescued Pettigrew. But how did this person know so quickly? And why did the perp bother to help Pettigrew?"
"Why wouldn't he? Aren't they both You-Know-Who supporters?" said Ron.
"Because Pettigrew is half-responsible for You-Know-Who's downfall!" piped Neville. Then he gaped, apparently shocked at his own insight.
Ron and Hermione were astonished, too.
"Oh. Right," said Ron, blinking.
"Exactly," said Harry, nodding in approval. "Pettigrew is the last person a loyal LV supporter would want to help. If anything, they'd want to kill him as revenge. Pettigrew knew that, too, so he hid himself as a rat for twelve years. But the perp didn't kill him. Meaning: the perp needed Pettigrew alive. Why? I can think of only one reason: Pettigrew is somehow necessary to LV's return."
Hermione, Ron and Neville paled.
"So how exactly does Winky enter into this?" Ron asked.
"Winky was Crouch's house-elf, so she must have been there at his home when the attack happened," said Hermione at once. "Mr. Weasley said Grandmaster Shin told Mr. Crouch about Pettigrew the day he found him as a courtesy because Crouch was the old Head of Law Enforcement, and the one who sent Sirius to Azkaban without a trial. That same evening, Crouch was attacked at his home. The only way the perp could've heard about Pettigrew, then, is if he or she was already in Crouch's house!"
"And the only sensible reason why Crouch would sack Winky is if Winky was somehow responsible for this person's presence," said Julia, frowning thoughtfully, while Ron and Neville stared at the girls with stupefied faces.
"My thoughts exactly," said Harry, nodding. "But here is where things get confusing. Why would Crouch let someone who is a loyal LV supporter in his house? It doesn't fit the man who yelled at Julia's granddad for not understanding him after he worked tiredly against the Dark Arts for decades, as 'everyone knows'."
"He's all about rules and regulations, too," said Julia. "Remember that time Crouch asked Ron's dad about Ali Bashir and Britain's embargo on flying carpets?"
"Yeah, he mentioned his grandfather had one that could seat twelve," said Hermione.
"An Axminster, but that was before, I quote, carpets were banned," said Julia. "He sounded like he wanted to make sure everyone knew his family lives strictly according to the law. He takes pride in it, that much is obvious. So why is such a person harboring a loyal LV supporter in his house on Christmas when by law he should be working to arrest this person?"
"Probably not for a Christmas party," muttered Ron. "Fun and Crouch are mutually exclusive."
"Does he have family?" asked Neville.
"I seriously doubt someone would want to marry Crouch. Can you imagine living with him?" Hermione sniffed.
"Well, Percy dated Penelope Clearwater, so I guess there are some girls who dig that," said Ron. "Mind, they aren't seeing each other anymore, not since Percy started working. At the rate he's going, Percy's going to marry his job. I wouldn't be surprised if that's what happened to Crouch."
"Let's make sure he's a bachelor before we make any assumptions," said Julia sensibly. "Ron can ask his dad and I can ask grandpa."
"Good point," said Ron. "I reckon my dad knows. I'll ask him."
Neville, who had his mouth open as though he had something to say, shut his mouth and looked down. As Harry wondered about this, Hermione checked her watch.
"It's almost six," she said. "You should go to the Music Room now, Harry and Julia, if you want to see Miss Jackie today. Ron, you have Muggle Studies homework to start."
"Thanks for the reminder," Ron groaned. "Damn Burbage; it'll take all weekend, it will…"
"That's why you should start early," Hermione lectured. "C'mon, Professor Vector didn't give us any, so I can help…"
Harry and Julia got up. As the two of them left the Great Hall together, Harry heard Neville ask timidly:
"Hermione? D'you think you can help me fill out my horoscope?"
-oo00oo-
Two more days passed. As far as Ron's fellow fourth year Gryffindors like Seamus and Dean were concerned, those days passed without great incident, unless one counted Neville melting his sixth cauldron in Potions. Snape, who appeared to have attained new levels of vindictiveness over the summer, gave Neville detention, and Neville returned from it in a state of nervous collapse, having been made to disembowel a barrel full of horned toads.
"You know why Snape's in such a foul mood, don't you?" said Ron to Harry as they watched Hermione teaching Neville a Scouring Charm to remove the guts from under his fingernails.
"Yeah," growled Harry, smouldering in rage. "Me."
Harry had told them John and Sherlock threatened to talk to the Press if Snape kept his campaign of singling out Harry for bullying. Ron didn't think Snape could possibly make pot shots at Harry with that hovering over his head, but he was wrong. He was so, very wrong.
"There have been some complaints about this class," Snape began, sounding as though he was chewing on a handful of nails. "So to ensure even the greatest dullard among you doesn't bring the entire class down to his level, I will personally ensure that that person does not fail."
He was looking at Neville, but it was obvious he was really referring to Harry, who was sharing his workbench.
Class proceeded after the short announcement. Snape lectured them on antidotes, hinting heavily that he was going to thoroughly test their solutions (meaning he was going to poison one of them), and then he set them to concoct a remedy for common Potion overdoses. Snape did his usual sweeping around, but instead of criticizing everyone but Malfoy as he usually did, he concentrated on poor Neville.
"Longbottom!" Snape barked, making Neville let go of his knife. "Did I not state clearly, the burdock roots should be sliced on the bias? Did I not write, quite clearly, the slices must be an eighth of an inch? Were you paying attention at all? Did you think you could get away without listening after the ineptitude you've shown thus far?"
The Slytherins chuckled appreciatively. Trembling, Neville picked up his knife again and started to cut the roots on bias, which he was doing, Ron furiously noted.
"I said slice, not mangle, idiot boy!" shouted Snape again, making Neville jump.
"You need to hone your knife," muttered Harry from the corner of his mouth as Snape walked away. "Here, use my…"
Snape suddenly turned heel and marched over to Harry and Neville's workbench. Slowly, he bent down and planted his ugly mug inches away from Neville's pale and sweaty face.
"When," he hissed softly, "have I said you can receive help, Longbottom? If I catch you doing something I haven't given you express permission to do, you will regret you've ever lived."
Harry turned white at that.
The rest of class went on in the same vein. To no one's surprise, Neville flubbed his Potion miserably, the tears he tried to wipe away discreetly causing the aforementioned cauldron meltdown. Harry was biting his lip so hard when Snape gave Neville detention, he was bleeding.
"He was doing it on purpose!" Harry raged. "I can't take this! Snape has no business taking it out on you! I'll ask John to—"
"No," said Neville shakily. "It's not your fault Snape is … is like that. You shouldn't give in. I can deal with this."
"You shouldn't have to!" said Harry furiously. "Snape of all people should know better! You know what, I'm done! I'm not taking his crap anymore! I don't care how badly he was bullied as a kid, if this is how he's doing to react, I'm taking him down!"
"But how?" asked Hermione, looking thoroughly alarmed. "You—you're not going to attack him, are you? Harry, he's still a teacher!"
"I'll think of something," Harry fumed. "And see if I care."
Then he stormed off to the boys' dormitory, leaving Ron feeling sorry for Snape in spite of himself.
-oo00oo-
Harry's boiling anger died down to a simmer the following morning, but his mood seemed to have taken a brooding turn. Ron learned to dread these brooding periods, as they tended to linger far longer than Harry's outbursts of rage.
"You know why he's so tense, don't you," said Hermione quietly over breakfast.
"Uh, no?" said Ron.
"Benedict," whispered Hermione reproachfully. "John was supposed to give birth yesterday. He's late."
Ron couldn't believe he forgot about that.
"Oh…" he said.
Harry remained terse and uncommunicative during their morning classes. Julia alone knew how to console him, being an older sister to four much younger siblings.
"Ellen told me John told her Benedict started descending last week," said Julia over lunch. "That means he's getting ready to come out."
"Isn't it late, descending at 39 weeks?" asked Harry, who barely ate anything since breakfast.
"Every baby is different," said Julia calmly. "I dropped at 37 weeks and Martin dropped the day before he was born. Anyway, John was clear for all the checkups, right? No gestational diabetes or anything?"
"Besides throwing up after taking The Drink, no, I don't think so…"
"They sound like two pregnant women," muttered Ron, which earned him a glare from Hermione.
The fourth year Gryffindors had Defence Against the Dark Arts after lunch. It was the favourite class of many thanks to the teacher, Professor Remus Lupin. He was easily the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher they'd ever had, and the first person to survive his first year of teaching the subject in many years. His only flaw, if one could call it that, was as a werewolf, he had to take monthly absences because of the full moon.
Ron noticed there were more greys in Professor Lupin's hair as he walked in, and that he appeared wearier than last year around this time. He still smiled at them, though, the corner of his eyes creasing with more lines than Ron remembered there being.
"It's good to see you all again," he said pleasantly. "You can put your books back into your bags. You won't need them today."
Everyone put their books away eagerly. The last time Lupin asked them to, he'd led the memorable Boggart lesson.
"Last year we've covered dark creatures," said Professor Lupin when everyone was ready. "I believe everyone now has a very good grasp on how to tackle boggarts, Red Caps, hinkypunks, grindylows, Kappas, and werewolves."
There was a general murmur of agreement. Lupin beamed proudly at them all.
"This year, we're going to focus on curses," said Lupin. "As you may know, curses come in many strengths and forms. According to the Ministry of Magic, I'm supposed to teach you only counter-curses and let sixth years and above start tackling actual curses. Professor Dumbledore, however, has a better opinion of your nerves and believes you are ready to cope. I myself think it is better to be prepared, as it is highly unlikely your opponent is going to politely tell you what he or she is going to do before casting an illegal spell on you."
Ron and Harry shared a grin.
"Now, teaching curses is a bit tricky," said Lupin, twinkling. "Can someone tell me why?"
Hermione's hand went up immediately.
"There are a large variety of them, with new curses developing every day," she answered promptly.
"I couldn't have put it better. Thank you, Hermione, take ten points to Gryffindor," said Lupin, and Hermione glowed. "Some curses go out of fashion, only to pop up again several years later. Those who are talented in spell-creation improve existing ones. Trying to learn about them all, then, becomes a rather impossible task. What do you think we should do, then, Harry?"
Harry blinked a couple of times.
"Er … find a simple spell that lets you block all the weaker ones and deal with the stronger curses separately?"
"Precisely; take another ten points," said Professor Lupin. "It's always best to avoid a curse than trying to lift one after it hits you. There are plenty of curses that prevent the victim from using magic, which would make your ability to cast the countercurse quite useless.
"The spell we're going to learn today is the Shield Charm. The incantation is Protego."
"Protego," said the class together.
"Good," said Professor Lupin, "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. The shield charm is a more advanced spell than the ones you've learned so far, and plenty of witches and wizards have trouble with it. So today we'll practice casting in pairs. Each person will attempt the shield charm and try to shatter their partner's shield with any charm or curse that, ahem, he or she happens to know."
Everyone paired up. Hermione, of course, was the first one to cast the shield charm successfully, but Harry's shield was the most durable. Curses just bounced off of the sphere of light that surrounded him like an unbreakable glass ball, making them ricochet off walls and shatter other people's shields. Lupin went down the line and coached the pairs, giving pointers and encouragements. Ron managed to get one up half-way into the lesson, only to have Hermione shatter it with a well-placed jelly-legs jinx. Ron wobbled all around the floor until Lupin came over and performed the countercurse.
"Excellent!" said Lupin at the end of the class, by which time everyone was able to cast the shield charm at least once. "We're making a very good start! We'll continue to practice our shield charms until everyone is able to block a spell. Let's see, for homework, please write a summary of the strengths and weaknesses of the shield charm and give at least two examples each of curses that the shield charm can and cannot block. That is all!"
"That was exhilarating!" said Seamus as they left the classroom. "This is what I'd always imagined Defence Against the Dark Arts being—battles and duels!"
"Did you see my shield block Ron's tickle charm?" said Dean excitedly.
"I shattered it later with the Furnunculus curse," Ron shot back.
"I broke yours twice with the slug-vomiting hex!"
"It was so scary," Parvati said to Lavender. "I wish we did it one by one like last year."
Ron felt his robe sleeve tugged at. He turned around and found Hermione. Harry was absent.
"Where'd he go?"
"Professor Lupin wanted to have a word with him," said Hermione as she pulled him back towards the classroom
They waited for Harry out at the hall. Harry joined them in a minute. He looked dazed.
"I have to get ready to leave any time starting now," he said. "John's getting ready for labour."
-oo00oo-
Harry's fretful waiting reached a fever pitch by the weekend. He spent Friday without bothering to wear his school robes, attending all his classes in Muggle attire. He also kept checking his phone compulsively, and could barely pay attention to the conversations that were going around him. Hermione thought Fred and George were going about the worst way to lighten him up. They kept making false birth announcements until Ginny, furious at their thoughtless antics, cast the Bat-Bogey hex at them. The resulting bogey bats chased her twin-brothers right out of the common room and into the hall outside.
"If he's this bad with a little brother, I don't know how he's going to cope when he has his own kid," said Ron as Saturday waned.
The real announcement came Sunday afternoon, around lunch time. Professor McGonagall and Professor Lupin came over to the Gryffindor table just after Harry's phone pinged.
"It's time, Potter," said Professor McGonagall briskly. "Please follow after Professor Lupin."
"Oh. Right," said Harry, dropping his fork.
Harry sent intermittent texts updating them what was going on after he left:
Doctor said John needs to be 10cm dilated. Made the mistake of asking how big that is. I can never look at bagels now.
All the extended Holmes family is in the hospital. Mycroft was surprised even the Russian branch of the family came when cousins Vasily and Vitaly arrived from St. Petersburg.
I think half of them know I'm a wizard but they're not saying. I have no clue what gave me away.
Never mind, it was your mum and dad, Ron.
Sirius, Mr. Lestrade and Mycroft are betting when John will start swearing. Sherlock told John not to swear. John threw a tray at him.
Mr. Lestrade won the bet. Sherlock pleased Mycroft didn't win.
There was a very long pause between that and the next volley of texts.
B taking his time. John is very sweary because, never mind the pain, you can't eat during labour (didn't know that).
Didn't know women can push so hard the small blood vessels on their faces bursts.
Didn't know there can be enough blood to splatter everyone either. I've never seen so much blood.
Hermione had to stop reading at this point because she was feeling queasy.
It was two in morning when the long awaited text came:
Jeremy Benedict BORN! Whopping 9 pounds and 2 ounces!
John says Holmeses must secretly be gingers because Benedict has strawberry blonde hair and this can only happen if both parent families have the red-hair gene.
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: writing Snape is becoming more and more painful. The man is a ball of anger, malice and hurt, I tell you. Harry's OOTP rage abounds a year early. Jeremy Benedict is finally born. Phew.