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 Sixty Four: Making a Bow
"…You've been eavesdropping on us?" Ron shouted, opting to act overly-indignant to cover his dismay. "How dare you! Don't you know the point of noise-cancelling screens?! Don't you have any respect for people's privacy!?"
"I'm sorry," said Luna, her protuberant eyes unblinkingly focused on Ron. "But I couldn't resist. You're part of the Rotfang Conspiracy, aren't you?"
Ron was completely nonplussed at the comment that was entirely out of the norm, as well as out of the blue.
"What?"
"The Magical Mobile Network is one of the Conspiracy's biggest funders, my dad said so," said Luna simply.
Ron didn't quite clutch his head, but it was a near thing.
"…Are you taking the mickey?" he asked, frowning.
"Of course not. Why would I joke about such a noble cause?" said Luna. "My dad and I are very supportive of any anti-Ministry action! Dad's always saying he'd believe anything of Fudge; I mean, the number of goblins Fudge has had assassinated! And of course he uses the Department of Mysteries to develop terrible poisons, which he secretly feeds to anybody who disagrees with him. And then there's his Umgubular Slashkilter—"
Hermione looked like she wanted to both cry and pull out her hair at this point. Ron felt corresponding emotions.
"Now don't worry about this either," said Luna brightly. "Some secrets need to stay as secret, and what you're doing is definitely one of those. So I won't tell."
"…Okay. Thanks. You do that," muttered Ron, not at all reassured.
Luna smiled faintly. Then she glided out of the Music Room, dreamily humming Nella Fantasia all the way. Ron turned to Hermione after the door shut.
He turned completely alarmed at the tears splashing down Hermione's face.
"Oh, this is horrible … absolutely horrible…" she sobbed. "I can't believe I forgot … John told us not to hold our meetings here, but I…"
"It's just her," said Ron. "And who's going to believe someone like that?"
"But what if there were others?" wailed Hermione, more tears falling. "It's really easy to do, now that I think about it… All you have to do is lift the curtains a bit! What if the agent already knows everything? What if You-Know-Who knows everything? It's all ruined! And n-now we have to t-tell Sherlock, and he's going to be so angry and—"
"We don't know that!" said Ron fiercely. "Anyway, it's not your fault we forgot! We all did! We never would've made it this far without you, anyway! And you don't have to tell Sherlock on your own, I'll be there too!"
"Oh, Ron!"
Hermione flung her arms around Ron's neck and broke down completely. Ron was completely frozen on his spot, his heart thudding like a racing steam engine, as Hermione soaked his chest. Mind blank, and not knowing what else he was supposed to do, Ron patted her very awkwardly on the top of the head.
Finally, Hermione drew a way.
"We'll have to tell Dumbledore, too," she said in a wobbly voice. "But what if it's too late?"
"Oh — well — Dumbledore's really brilliant," said Ron, feeling both immensely bereft and relieved. "I'm sure he'll think of something … if not him, there's always Sherlock. I suppose we can even ask Miss Jackie as a last resort." He looked around. "Where is Miss Jack, anyway?"
-oo00oo-
Jacqueline Shin cradled the cup of tea Arthur Weasley pressed into her hands. Molly Weasley was bustling about in the Burrow's cramped kitchen, looking for the biscuit tin. She eventually located it inside one of the cabinet drawers that also contained something that growled. After dumping all the biscuits on a plate, Molly joined Arthur and Jacqueline at the scrubbed table.
"Thank you so much for taking the time to see me," muttered Jacqueline as Molly pushed the plate of biscuits to her.
"Oh, it's nothing dear," said Molly kindly. "So what did you want to ask us about?"
Jacqueline sucked in her lips, wetting it, before she started to speak haltingly.
"How long have you and Arthur been married?"
"Twenty-five years," answered Molly.
"So you must know a lot about how it's like to be married."
"I suppose," said Molly curiously. "But why are you wondering about it? Are you thinking about marriage?"
Jacqueline turned bright red. Arthur choked on his tea and Molly practically leaped out her chair in excitement.
"Oooooh! You are!"
"We've been talking about it," mumbled Jacqueline, still glowing red. "He actually proposed before we even started seeing each other, but that's beside the point. I…" she turned redder. "…I, um, something happened recently that made me … that is to say, I suddenly felt like—"
"—you really wanted to marry him?"
Jacqueline squeaked and hid her face behind her hands. Molly and Arthur smiled indulgently.
"I'm so happy for you, dear," said Molly, patting Jacqueline's not-quite-bony shoulder. "This is wonderful news. Your man is very lucky."
Jacqueline peaked over the tips of her fingers. "Thank you."
Molly eagerly asked when Jacqueline expected her Significant Other to propose. Jacqueline told her he'd been proposing on a weekly basis except recently, and remarked all she would have to do is say yes the next time he did it. After clicking her tongue at the decidedly awkward nature of these proposals, Molly asked Jacqueline what kind of wedding she wanted. Jacqueline said she wanted just go to the marriage registry office and be done with it, because otherwise she would have to hold three ceremonies: one wizard, one according to the traditions of her fatherland, and one Muggle. Molly elbowed Arthur in the ribs before he could ask something about the last.
"Don't you want to celebrate with your friends and family?" asked Molly.
"I guess I'm too worried about marriage life to think about celebrating it," said Jacqueline.
"You'll do fine, dear," said Molly. "I mean, it's good to worry about it a little, but it's not like you and he are rushing into it at a young age."
"Older age doesn't necessarily mean maturity," mumbled Jacqueline. "And if you have a temper, it's…"
Molly regarded Jacqueline thoughtfully.
"What's troubling you?" she asked.
Jacqueline shifted her tea cup between her hands at the question.
"You know what my father is most famous for, don't you?" Jacqueline began.
"Are you talking about a certain incident?" asked Molly carefully.
"Yes," Jacqueline sighed. "That temper … is a family trait. I've done my share of cruel revenges." She paused. "There was a group of students who made sport of tormenting me when I was young. I decided since they enjoy my misery so much, I would ensure they would feel nothing but that a hundredfold."
"That was you?" Arthur exclaimed.
Jacqueline nodded glumly. "My father claimed responsibility so I wouldn't get into trouble."
There a bout of silence.
"I shouldn't have done it," whispered Jacqueline.
"No one can blame you for doing it," said Molly stoutly. "Bullying is horrible thing to go through, and the pain you experienced was exceptionally bad."
"But my curse almost cost several people their sanity," said Jacqueline dejectedly. "I fear what I'm capable of doing out of anger. And maybe one day he'll make me angry enough to do something equally horrible. Harming him is the last thing I want, but …" she glared at her teacup. "…he can make me so angry sometimes…"
Molly and Arthur shared a knowing look.
"That's quite normal, dear," said Molly gently. "Family brings the best and the worst out of us. So it shouldn't surprise you that he's doing just that. You and he are thinking of starting a family, after all."
Jacqueline blinked a few times before smiling wanly.
"I never thought of it that way," she said. "But still, I'd rather not fight to begin with. My family and I tend to inflict irreversible damage when we're angry."
"You'll manage," said Molly reassuringly. "There isn't a married couple in the world that doesn't fight, and I dare say your parents had their share of spats. Fighting isn't the end of the world, you know. As long as you two are committed in staying together, it'll work out. I mean, just look at Arthur and I. During the second year of our marriage, and around the time when we had Fred and George, I was jinxing Arthur every other day."
Jacqueline blinked at this. Arthur, on the other hand, chuckled.
"I almost got quarantined in the Ministry for contracting dragon-pox when Molly turned my skin green," he said. "I must've escaped the ward somehow, because I remember going to the apothecary to buy a remedy."
"Perkins let you out because I told him to, Arthur. Now, do remember that time I turned you into a sea urchin? I don't even remember why you made me so angry, but there you go."
Jacqueline stared wide-eyed as Arthur and Molly listed the horrible things they'd done to each other over the years, and what they had done to make up for these fights. Most of the reconciliation efforts featured either Arthur or Molly doing silly things to make the other laugh before apologising.
"…When it comes down to it, it's all about forgiving each other and making up," Molly concluded.
"And not doing it alone," added Arthur. "Your friends and a family need to be in it together."
"We are going to have trouble with that," said Jacqueline ruefully. "Neither of us have much family or friends."
"But you have them, don't you? And you're here because you want to do the right thing," said Molly. "Have you met his family, yet?"
"I met his family in spirit a few weeks ago," said Jacqueline, blushing. "The family who owns the room he's been renting since uni, the Bryans, they all but adopted him when he started living in their house after he got orphaned a second time."
"How did it go?"
"I… think it went well," said Jacqueline hesitantly. "I was a bit overwhelmed. Mrs. Bryan puts more energy in her greetings than what most people spend for an entire day."
She lifted her hands up as if to show what Mrs. Bryan had done, but after a few blinks, she put her hands back down.
"I don't think I can do her justice," said Jacqueline. "Anyway she, um, used the endearment 'honey' to me after we were introduced. The Bryans treated me to American barbeque at their home. Mrs. Bryan's son Tim grilled ten pounds worth of meat, and her younger daughter Shachia cooked enough to feed twenty people. The older daughter Sharai hugged me for over a minute when time came for us to part."
Molly smiled. "Sounds like they really like you, dear. Now what about him? Did he meet your family?"
Jacqueline nodded.
"How did that go?"
Jacqueline dropped her head into her hands and clutched at her hair.
"They didn't like him?" asked Arthur, wincing.
"That's not the problem," groaned Jacqueline. "The problem is my father. He refuses to accept the notion he and I are together. I don't understand why. My father calls him Stupid and Bonehead to his face, and he only does that when he feels comfortable with someone. I can count the number of people who has the honour with one hand."
"What about the rest of your family?" Molly asked.
"Greg and Ellen don't mind him, and he gets along well with Jason. Jeremy can't stand the sight of him, but that's because he dresses like a clown." She sighed. "The person who has the most trouble is Julia. It can't be helped—as far as she's concerned, I'm her mother. She actually thought Greg and I was husband and wife until Jason told her the truth. It upset her so much she cried a fortnight."
"That must have been very awkward for you," said Molly sympathetically.
"You have no idea," said Jacqueline ruefully. "Julia wasn't the only person pushing it. I think my brothers hoped we'd get married, too. At least Jason did; I'm pretty sure he put a curse on Greg after his talk with Julia that made every single one of his relationships fail for the next three years. We still don't know how he did it; he was only sixteen at the time, and he generally doesn't care for magic unrelated to food."
Molly and Arthur stared at Jacqueline, looking perturbed.
"I really had to put my foot down," said Jacqueline. "Me and Greg … it's wrong on too many levels."
"Brother-in-law and the age difference," said Molly knowingly.
"Yes; but even if those two things weren't a factor, it would've been wrong," said Jacqueline. "Did you know my sister died protecting Greg?"
Molly and Arthur stared again.
"You-Know-Who went after her—or she went after him. It doesn't matter," said Jacqueline softly. "The duel she had with You-Know-Who was exactly the kind of head-on collision I would have expected her to do if she felt threatened. No one knew what happened to her until Greg knocked on our door. It took us a while to come around to the notion of Cecilia marrying, but from that moment on, he was forever branded as the man my sister loved to death."
Jacqueline smiled wryly.
"I dare not touch someone like that."
There was a long moment of silence.
"So your future fiancé, who is he? Do we know him?" asked Molly.
"He met Arthur before," Jacqueline replied.
"I did?" said Arthur blankly. "When? Who is it?"
Jacqueline told him.
"…No, seriously, who?" said Arthur.
Jacqueline covered her face in defeat.
-oo00oo-
Around the time Arthur and Molly Weasley were pressing Jacqueline to tell them the real person she wanted to share her life with, Dumbledore and Shin were returning to the Headmaster's office, having hours before overseen the werewolf test treatment's administration at an undisclosed location.
"What a night," said Dumbledore as he settled into his high-backed chair.
"Mmmn," Shin grunted.
"It was quite something to see Robert in his element," Dumbledore remarked. "Have you noticed he didn't leave the room after administering the treatment?"
Shin made a noncommittal noise.
"His answer to my inquiry as to why was quite striking," said Dumbledore. " 'The treatment isn't over.' "
"Your hints are lacking their usual subtlety," said Shin dryly. "They're hitting me like Bludgers."
"Well, I've been receiving many complaints on the matter," said Dumbledore. "I admit he takes a bit of getting used to, but surely you do not have problems with him now."
"I have many problems with him," Shin retorted. "And you only say this because you've never raised your own daughters."
"Perhaps, but I didn't expect this kind of blatant denial from you."
"I'm not denying anything," snapped Shin. "Denying means there is something real that I'm failing to acknowledge. I have no reason to acknowledge as real a relationship that involves a man who doesn't have the courage to tell me."
"Have you considered the possibility your insistence of calling him idiot to his face is part of the problem?"
"No," said Shin shortly. "And I'm calling him for what he is."
Dumbledore was shaking his head when there was a knock at the door.
"Enter," said Dumbledore as Shin vanished from sight.
The door opened, and Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger nervously stepped inside the office, followed by Harry Potter and Julia Lestrade.
"Good evening," said Dumbledore pleasantly. "How can I help you in this late hour?"
Hermione looked down at her feet and Ron shuffled nervously.
"Professor, there's something we need to tell you…"
-oo00oo-
"This," growled Sherlock as he paced furiously, "is why I abhor help."
John (and Benedict) watched him pace from the vantage point of the red armchair.
"You would've never made it this far without help," John pointed out, and Benedict burbled as though in agreement.
Sherlock continued to scowl, which was quite a show of restraint all things considered. John had expected him to burst into an angry tirade when a very despondent Hermione— with Ron standing protectively behind her— told them that morning someone might've eavesdropped into their meetings in the Music Room … and yes, they had had all of their meetings in the Music Room because they thought it wasn't necessary to look for alternative meeting locations. So far they knew one girl had eavesdropped at least once for sure, but there might be others … several others.
"And considering how young they are, they did an exceptionally good job," John continued. "Hermione's idea was inspired and the idea itself wouldn't have worked without Ron."
"I know that!" snapped Sherlock, making Benedict whimper in an instant. Then in his regular voice, he said: "Why do you think I didn't reprimand them further?"
John smiled briefly at way Sherlock quickly modulated his tone before sobering.
"So our security has been compromised. What now?"
"Traditional spy craft would call us to find the extent of the leak," said Sherlock, pacing faster. "But we only have a week and a half to figure that out. The Second Task is scheduled to happen on February twenty-fourth, and if the agent is among those who have overheard our talk, he may be working on a different method to obtain his objective at a different time frame even as we speak. Either way, we don't have enough time."
John nodded grimly. "Do you have any idea who might know what we're up to?"
"Only two, so far: The student Hermione reported and Rita Skeeter."
"Wait, Skeeter?"
John stared at Sherlock, who stopped pacing for a moment.
"Isn't it obvious?" said Sherlock. "Remember those articles she wrote about Harry for the Prophet."
"I've been reading nothing but baby literature since September. I only know about Rita Skeeter because Harry complained to me about her."
Sherlock sighed impatiently and headed over to the sitting room table. There he picked up the case scrapbook—case Index, Sherlock insisted—where he recorded all his magical crime cases and handed it over to John, opening it to the current case section. There were two Daily Prophet articles pasted there. John read the highlighted paragraphs:
Violin playing is another hidden talent Harry Potter possesses. He played two eighteenth century violin solos titled Liebesleid and Siciliano with considerable mastery when the Daily Prophet came to visit, as well as a Scottish ballad. Ireilas Oinotna, famed classical violinist from Vienna, confirmed the first two pieces were 'intermediate to advanced' level, though he criticized Potter's music instructor for choosing such obscure Muggle compositions when there were options in the Wizarding Music Instructional repertoire that were far more suitable…
…the music lessons were definitely Potter's Muggle foster parents' idea, though their motive for pushing music lessons requires further scrutiny. Several students confirmed Potter was forced to learn piano and cello rather than violin, which he is clearly partial to, for many years…
"Notice she listed the music pieces Harry plays," said Sherlock while John sputtered in outrage. "It is one of the few accurate pieces of information in this article. The question is: how did she obtain it? Dumbledore wouldn't let someone this enchantingly nasty into Hogwarts, Jacqueline wouldn't disclose the info to her, and Harry's ability to perform to an audience is sketchy at best— Christmas party, case in point."
"He plays to an audience just fine; he's just not a young Jascha Heifetz, you daft tit," snapped John. "So Rita Skeeter somehow eavesdropped into his music lessons; not really a stretch to think she might have eavesdrop into the meetings too."
"Nor is it a stretch to think she would spy on us to gather more reporting material," said Sherlock as he resumed his pacing. "I've set the stage to catch her in the act in the greenhouse, but so far nothing."
"… Is that why you planted the moss roses?" said John incredulously. "You know what, that was really clever. Everyone thought moss roses are my favourite flower because that's the only reason why you would personally plant them inside a citrus flower garden. Rita would probably think the same and hide there, figuring we'd eventually show up for a romantic moment." Then John pulled a face. "Ugh, just thinking about it makes me want to hurl."
"Forget your disgust, I don't understand why she didn't take the bait," Sherlock grumbled. "Even if I failed to catch Skeeter in the act, she would've published an article about Harry Potter's Muggle Parents. We can't possibly be so boring as to leave someone like Skeeter with nothing to write about."
"Yeah, especially considering you've—oh, let me think—hosted a wizard-themed Christmas party that had Arthur Weasley and Muggles not in the know as guests, got turned into a sea urchin at the aforementioned party because you enticed Arthur to enchant baby products, then into a toad after you critiqued Harry's Silent Night performance, and then drowned one of Sirius's presents for Molly in embalming liquid."
"How was I supposed to know the bug was a present?"
"It's common courtesy to not touch other people's things."
"Dull," Sherlock scoffed. "But the lack of articles by Skeeter is rather curious. She is the type to do anything for a story, and we gave her enough gossip fodder to last a year. It's possible the Daily Prophet is refusing to publish her articles, but that doesn't stop her from publishing in other news publications. At any rate, I doubt the Prophet would refuse to use her articles. Jacqueline's systemic attack would've left them desperate for anything newsworthy."
"You really think Jack's out to get the Prophet?" asked John, eyebrows up. "I find it hard to believe she found the necessary mean-streak to actively work on bankrupting them."
"What other possible motive can she have? Jacqueline despises business operations and the Magical Televised News Channel she developed involves nothing but."
John shook her head. "I still prefer to think she felt protective over Ron and went overboard."
"It doesn't matter," said Sherlock dismissively. "For whatever reason, Skeeter stopped publishing articles. There are too many unknowns and not enough data to deduce why. If she is an independent agent, she may have had her own reasons. If she had connections to LV's agent, then perhaps the agent finished her off after obtaining the information he needed from her. Either way, the weight of importance lies on the agent, who I'm inclined to think either doesn't know the state of our investigation or does know but is hiding it from LV."
"Why do you think so?" asked John.
"Harry hasn't had any new visions," said Sherlock. "Think of the circumstances behind the previous ones. The first vision occurred when LV finally set his comeback plans into motion, thus would've been feeling particularly excited and murderous. The second vision was when Wormtail almost botched the entire operation because he neglected to mention Harry's name change, thus LV was feeling particularly murderous and angry. Therefore it appears that whenever LV is feeling a strong surge of hatred or excitement, Harry sees what he is doing."
John thought about it.
"No vision—yet— means LV doesn't know we're very close to discovering his agent," said John. "Because there is no way he wouldn't get angry that his second supposedly more reliable agent is on the cusp of failure, too."
"Hence my theory either the agent himself doesn't know or is hiding it," said Sherlock. "Now, if the agent doesn't know, then we are safe to proceed as planned. But suppose the agent does know, but is hiding the knowledge from LV, with the assumption that he can actually do this, despite the fact LV is one of the greatest mind-readers the wizarding world has ever known, according to Albus Dumbledore. Why would he do that? Dumbledore suggested to me the theory that the agent is engaged in a rather heated rivalry with Moran. The magical drug-smuggling case Lestrade brought to my attention last year certainly hinted that Moran and the agent are not in amicable terms. Our mutual conclusion is that the agent would hide the knowledge least he give Moran an advantage."
John stared at Sherlock for several beats.
"I thought you stopped talking to Dumbledore because he rarely gives you a straight answer," said John in a low voice.
"Yes—and he was as circumspect as usual in all our meetings," said Sherlock, scowling. "The conclusion I told you was the most I could get out of him."
John started counting to ten, and only managed five.
"When did you start having these secret conferences?"
"Since the beginning; I couldn't talk to you because you were asleep most of the time and I prefer a responsive audience," said Sherlock defensively. "Our latest discussions have centreed on Moran. Speaking of which, I can't believe Sirius didn't think to ask Dumbledore about him."
John knew this was Sherlock's way of navigating out of the minefield he just stepped into. After considering the level of effort required for pummeling him and keeping Benedict content at the same time, John decided to let it go.
"But you don't need to bother AD for that; your brother gave us a dossier," said John.
"At the cost of Sirius's soul," Sherlock muttered darkly. "It won't be long before Mycroft gets his claws on him."
"I'll recommend turning him into a pig permanently if it comes to that," said John dryly. "But I suppose you had to ask Dumbledore since we need to how competent of a wizard Moran is."
Sherlock nodded.
"I also wanted to understand what drove a wizard to join the Royal Marines," he said. "Most magicals opt to live in the Wizarding World, for the freedom to use magic if nothing else. But magicals who choose to dwell in our world are not uncommon. According to Arthur, about a quarter of the magical population marries Muggles, and these magicals usually choose to live in the Muggle World and hide their magic ability to maintain the Statute of Secrecy. But Moran is bachelor, so that can't be it."
"Maybe Moran got disillusioned by the magic world?" said John. "Moran is around our age. If he was a Muggle-born or a half-Blood, the blood supremacy wars of the eighties and nineties might've turned him off."
"Possible," said Sherlock. "I would've even said probable, if it weren't for the fact he's working for LV right now."
"But—"
"And his criminal history suggests he isn't driven by ideology," Sherlock went on. "Lately I've been thinking there was a more practical reason to the move."
"Like what?"
"I had assumed Moran was a generally competent magic user based on his ability to cast the Confundus Charm until I remembered Lockhart," said Sherlock, saying the name like he was spitting out something foul. "Memory charms were Lockhart's specialty, and they are N.E.W.T. level spells just like the Confundus. How exactly an incompetent like Lockhart could manage those spells but not others, I have no idea. But he serves as an example that a person can specialize in one very advance spell, but be thoroughly unaccomplished in others."
"Oh, I see, so Moran could be untalented in magic in general, but have a few spells he can do really well," said John, nodding. "And he might've chosen to join the military after an unsuccessful stint at Hogwarts."
Sherlock nodded again.
"Dumbledore wasn't able to identify Moran based on his most current picture, but was able recall the student he might have been when I told him his name and age. The student came from a functionally Muggle family, had persistently low academic performance despite having a keen mind, failed to adjust to Hogwarts and the magic world, and left school in the middle of his sixth year after achieving only one O.W.L."
John smiled crookedly. "Sounds like a fairly typical military recruit, magic education aside. Now how exactly did he manage to convince the marines he didn't drop off the face of the earth for Hogwarts, I'd like to know…"
"Dumbledore mentioned the special arrangements he needs to make once in a blue moon for students such as he," said Sherlock. "But there we have it: a generally incompetent wizard who is inconveniently skilled in the Confundus Charm and possibly other spells, who is also a top-notch sniper."
"So glad to know he's very unlikely to kill us magically," said John sardonically. "So why did Moran have so much trouble with Magic? Does AD know?"
Sherlock's lips twisted into a smirk.
"Apparently Moran had problems with the logic."
John blinked. "…Come again?"
"You know how difficult it is to truly understand magic, John," said Sherlock seriously. "For instance, wizards have little problem accepting the idea that sex stops a wizard's magical growth or giving blood means giving life in a magically literal way. I, however, constantly stumble over these leaps. Isn't Love powerful magic? Why then does sex, a bodily act love according to most, stop a man's magic from growing? Also, blood is only part of what makes a life form—so, how can blood and blood alone account for Life in the magic realm?"
John said nothing.
"Obviously you need to accept magic on its own terms if you want to understand it," said Sherlock. "But if you persisted in treating it like a foreign thing—or you have no choice but to treat it as such—how can you?"
Then Sherlock gave John the Look—the one that said they both knew what was going on. It usually left John feeling deeply annoyed because she usually had no idea what Sherlock was hinting at. But this time John thought she could figure it out.
Sherlock had made a concentrated effort to study magic ever since they discovered its existence, and he'd succeed to an extent. But if John understood Sherlock correctly, he was right now admitting that he will never quite get it. It seemed absurd that he would reach this conclusion considering how well he was able to solve magical crime at first, but then John remembered those exasperated expressions their wizard friends would make, the "you're thinking about it the wrong way!" look they'd often donned whenever Sherlock interrogated them over magic. Sherlock's successes so far were thanks to his prodigious memory, ability to recall, and put together facts. This method worked well enough for crime that involved already known and well-understood magic, but the current case … it tread territory even the most learned wizards knew precious little. Stuff like how to remove magic from soul fragments, and exterminating wizards who literally tore their soul to multiple pieces and apparently could re-embody themselves after living as a disembodied half-spirit for over a decade. How can one navigate such an uncertain terrain when one had enough trouble treading well-known roads?
"You … think we can't help Harry. Anymore," John whispered.
Sherlock nodded once.
"Even if this case resolves to our favour, it would only take one success—just one—for LV to return," said Sherlock sombrely. "Afterwards we will find Harry a dangerous person to be with. I'm not even convinced this case will end well for us, and I've come to this conclusion long before we learned about the potential leak. If I read the signs correctly, this case will end with either LV devoting his energies to destroy us or the Ministry of Magic doing the honours. I certainly don't recommend further involvement with the wizarding world."
They stared at each other again. For many heartbeats one could only hear the gurgling noises Benedict was making around his fist and the patter of soft footsteps outside the flat.
At length Sherlock knelt before John, and the two clasped hands.
"I don't regret discovering magic any more than I regret our children," Sherlock declared.
"Good," said John shakily. "Because if you think you can convince me to bow out of Harry's life, then you're about to get very disappointed."
"I know better than that," said Sherlock, smiling wryly. "But the fact remains we can't continue the same way."
"True enough. So how are things going to change?"
"Of late I've been tempted to look into problems furnished by nature rather than those responsible by man," said Sherlock as he reached out to Benedict, who was still trying to eat his fist. "Should I make the transition, your blog will have to come to an end. Might as well end it when the case regarding one of the most dangerous and capable wizards in recent history concludes."
"Sounds good to me," said John. "So what is the plan?"
"I'm going to consult Jason Shin," said Sherlock, giving John another Look. "Sirius is quite capable as a general utility man, but for horticulture, I need Jason's expertise. Just think about his greenhouses."
John blinked as the Joker Grin spread across Sherlock's face.
"I want something like that," said Sherlock cryptically.
-oo00oo-
Final Notes: no matter how I twisted the plot around, sparing no character deaths, in the end Sherlock came to the conclusion he had to bow out of the magic world. I really didn't want to do it, but saw no way out. This doesn't mean ASIM is coming to an end! Sherlock may be ready bow out of the Wizarding World, but the Wizarding World isn't finished with him and John. So stay tuned…
Liebesleid (Love's Sorrow) was composed by Frantz Kreisler at an unknown date; it was published in 1905. Siciliano is the third movement of Sonata No. 1 (BWV 1001) by Johann Sebastian Bach. Rita only got the titles right (that shouldn't surprise anyone, of course). The 'Scottish ballad' is Bovaglie's Plaid, composed by James Scott Skinner, originally for the harp according to Google. I had the violin version as played by Mairead Nesbitt in mind.