A/N: I've been going back and forth over creating a crossover with this particular setting for little over a month. Leobutler (aka Ciera) kicked my butt in the direction I needed to go. Now, I will be honest right here; I have not seen the BBC series. However, I am a huge fan of the original works and will attempt to incorporate what I do know from Wikipedia and various Johnlock fics (most are exceptionally well-written and a few even brighten my day when I need them; not to mention they're a guilty pleasure of mine) that I've read. I'm on the original Hound of the Baskervilles right now and I have to say it is so good. As for the request that this be a Snarry & Johnlock? My brain decided upon a Snarry/Johnlock, meaning that while the original pairings asked for are established, there will also be a gradual change to a foursome. Ooo, mentions of Mycroft/Kingsley as I have never seen this pairing before. I like Kingsley; he's a reliable character that I have regrettably ignored! I hope you enjoy this. Please be gentle as this is my first crossover fic of Sherlock and HP. Oh, as for those of you looking for a time-line on the Sherlock end? It's in-between seasons. Ignores the Epilogue, making this yet another EWE. Words with this (*) at the end of them will be explained at the bottom in fuller detail.
DISCLAIMER: If I owned either series, most people wouldn't want to read/watch them. Alas, I do not and no matter how much I deduce or wave my wand, I will never own them. Thank Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the lovely Ms. Rowling for these characters as well as the BBC for modernizing Sherlock to make this sort of thing even possible...
WARNING: This is an Alternate Universe. If you did not catch the drift within the A/N, let me point it out in big, bold letters. THIS IS A YAOI FIC. As with all my warnings, if you do not like slash or the pairings mentioned above, stop reading and click the back button. This also applies to the blood and disturbing scenes farther down in the text as well. Ooo, Donovan-bashing too, if you don't like her, great. If not? Suck it up. It isn't that hard to do. Reading any farther than the third line of this warning means one thing only; you enjoy slash. Excellent. There will be the probability of M-Preg as this is magic and anything goes! If M-Preg bothers you, please follow line three to the back button. If you appreciate a good story even if it's not your thing, then you're welcome to it.
P.S. READ THIS FIRST! Not all of the characters encountered will have Talent*. In fact most of them are perfectly normal. Don't freak out if your favorite character doesn't have it. I might even write an omake or two if you review prettily.
DMMWw DMMWw DMMWw DMMWw
Ex-Soldier, Doctor, Lover
It occurred to Dr. John Watson that after he'd become flatmates with the eccentric Sherlock Holmes that their neighbors in 221 A never complained about Sherlock's odd habits, which included the wretched screeches of his violin at 3 in the morning. His own schedule was so hectic after he'd met Sherlock but he'd never been happier or more thrilled to be alive. Living with the man was an adventure by itself; bar the odd fingers in the milk or moldy bread on the kitchen counters. John was just glad he left the tea alone. He'd yet to officially meet their neighbors and Sherlock gave him the perfect excuse.
As it so happened, Sherlock poisoned the sugar they currently had and John needed it to make the one thing Sherlock would sit down and eat without complaint; sopapilla. He marched over to 221 A and knocked on the door. A tall, dark-haired man in his early thirties opened the door.
"May I help you?" the deep voice had John nearly moaning. Damn, whoever lived with him was one lucky person.
"Umm, yes actually. I live in the flat next door and well... My flatmate's poisoned the sugar again. I was wondering if I could have some of yours?"
"Sev, it's rude to stare. Hello then, name's Harry. Yes you may have some sugar." The other dark-haired male was shorter than the one who'd answered the door but was a lot more open. "I'm surprised to see you still here. Sherlock usually chases them out by the end of a month; sometimes even less." John laughed as he accepted the container of sugar from Harry and shook hands with the green-eyed man.
"I'm tougher than I look Harry. I'm Dr. John Watson, but call me John. I have enough of my title at the bloody clinic."
"Wonderful. John, this is my partner Severus. Say hello politely and then you can stop murdering John here with your glare."
"Pleased to have met you, Dr. Watson." This handshake was brisk and neat, the warm touch gone before he could register that very fact. "Harry, order pizza. I have an experiment I'm busy with." The taller man instantly turned on his booted heel and left them standing in the hallway.
"Ignore Severus. He's always like that. Sev, I'm leaving to hang out with John!" Harry told him in a fond voice before he snagged the keys on the hook and shouting to his flatmate.
"Do as you wish, Harry. I am currently engrossed in trying not to get blown up..." With that statement, Harry closed the door and grinned.
"He sounded a bit like Sherlock when he said that." John snickered as they headed back to the flat he shared with the resident consulting detective. He labeled the container 'Sopapilla Sugar' so that Sherlock would not be tempted to poison that too with some strange substance. John also left a note that he was going out with one of their neighbors. Harry grabbed the familiar black and green leather duster from the hook in the hallway. "Oh. So that one's yours. Sherlock's never sure which one belongs to which person."
They walked to the pub, chit-chatting about various things but the conversation quickly turned back to the subject of his flatmate (as well as ridiculous crush).
"Hmm, we've been here for quite some time before Sherlock. He's... quirky. You're going grey and spare over him, aren't you?"
"That he is. You don't look a day over twenty-seven yourself." he commented wryly, absently massaging his arm.
"I'm actually thirty-one. Sev's a cantankerous old bastard at fifty-one." Harry shared with yet another grin as they entered the pub. "Lager or ale?"
"Lager." he muttered, sitting down to claim a table.
"Don't let his age fool you, though. He's amazing in bed." John choked slightly on his warm beer, coughing as he cleared his lungs. "Oops. Have I offended you terribly?"
"No! No, it's just... It's been a while since I've had any." His mind happened to go to the gutter for a moment. "I-Erm-I go both ways."
"Ah. So... Got a bird?"
"I did have one. Sherlock scared her off with his deductions." he hummed absently as he swirled his drink.
"A jealous Sherlock. I envy you the sight." Harry rolled his eyes as a woman sat nearly in his lap. He re-directed her with a firm hand. "Really. I just said I bat for the other cricket team and a gel just plops herself down."
"Sherlock could've told you something along the line of dead-beat dad and needing an older figure..." he admitted, enjoying the company of the younger man. "Have they ever met, by the way? Severus and Sherlock." Brilliant green eyes crinkled at the edges as Harry outright laughed.
"No! The similarities are hilarious when you point them out though. Dark-haired geniuses who tend to think most of the population is stupidity embodied, conduct experiments when we're not looking, extremely tall and both have a rather cruel streak when they're offended. I take it Donovan has yet to recover from Severus's tongue-lashing?" John frowned as he recalled her recent attitude; she'd been unusually polite to Sherlock. "That would be a no then? Good. Had the audacity to call Sev a bloody pedophile..."
"What did he say? She was-Dare I say it-nice to Sherlock." Surprise registered in the handsome face of his neighbor.
"He must have hit home then. It doesn't happen very often, but he's uncannily like your flatmate detecting things that the normal public would never pick up on." Harry murmured as he unconsciously checked where the exits were.
"Which war were you in?" the question was blurted out before John could hold his tongue.
"Mycroft would know but I don't suggest you ask the pompous prat. He's rather like a friend of mine..."
Of course, Sherlock was staring at the sugar container as though it held the Mecca of all answers to his cases when he got back.
"You went out with the younger one, didn't you?" Sherlock hovered, something he didn't do unless John went out on a date with a decent woman.
"Yes. He and I had a chat, actually, about how similar our flatmates are." He shooed the taller man away from his key ingredient. "Please tell me you didn't stick arsenic in the cinnamon. The sugar laced with rat poison was bad enough."
"I saw the label." Thankfully that was a resounding 'no' in Sherlock speech. He went about clearing the various experiments (putting them on a small end table he'd bought just for that) and casually checked the milk for fingers. "I bought new milk."
"Only because you like my sopapilla." John worked absent-mindedly, humming a song he'd heard on the radio. "Sherlock why do you scare away all of the women I date?"
"I do not scare them away. They are too stupid to keep up with my deductions and I can't stand stupidity. Anderson is all I can take on a daily basis. You're about the only other person who can keep up with me besides this Moriarty fellow."
"...Nevermind. Harry says you should eat more." Cobalt eyes locked with tawny flecked hazel as Sherlock cocked his head to the side as if John were a particularly difficult puzzle to solve. John, on the other hand, was embarrassingly hard underneath his plain white baking apron. Sherlock was sexy when he wanted to be... Those thoughts were roughly yanked into the box of naughty images that John kept in his mind. Why oh why did he not have sex anymore? Randy thoughts about his flatmate were very, very bad. Sherlock stood up and literally walked him into a wall. "Umm, Sherlock? The sopapilla's going to burn." He blurted, pointing to the consulting detective's favorite dessert. Pulling it out was a matter of seconds and then it was in the fridge. It helped that Sherlock had stopped that rather sexy staring thing-Which he was back to doing. "Sherlock, stop that."
"Stop what?" The intensity of the stare had not diminished as his flatmate put up an innocent façade.
"You're staring at me again." John snapped, valiantly ignoring the pink tint in his cheeks as he scurried into the bathroom (having nicked his pajamas from his room) and locked the door. "Bugger."
"John, you're behaving like you're infatuated with me."
"I am not!" he shot back venomously, scrubbing rougher than was necessary on his left leg. "This is one of those times that you need tact, Sherlock. Talking like this is not done in regular society." he snarled, his thoughts tangled. Good thing he had Harry's number. He stormed out of the shower with his pajamas slightly damp and his hair still dripping.
"John? I'm sorry." Sherlock muttered, twisting his scarf with slender fingers. "I shouldn't have pressed."
"My mind's not here right now, Sherlock. I just need some space." he sighed, scrubbing his hair with his towel. "The hours of the clinic and chasing after you does have a toll, you know."
John took the lift to the roof for some privacy. He dialed Harry's number on his cell as he stood on the roof, tapping out a rhythm on the metal bar surrounding the roof as the phone rang.
"Hello? Oh. John, what's wrong?" the green-eyed man sounded genuinely concerned.
"Sherlock. He's been hovering."
"And that's a bad thing?" he heard the curiosity in Harry tone. "Severus, put Estragon down. He's not to be fed another poison! Sorry."
"It's fine. Sherlock only hovers when he's jealous. He was staring at me throughout dinner... He figured out that I'm attracted to him." John blurted, blushing as his mind recalled Sherlock's intense cobalt stare. "I snapped at him."
Harry sighed over the phone before he heard a thump and pages rustling, "John, has this been happening for a while? Answer me honestly."
"I... Yes, yes it has. I've been attracted to him since I saw him solving the serial suicides."
"Basically since your first meeting. Interesting... But you should tell Sherlock the truth. Babe, not now. No it's John. Severus, don't you-"
John heard Severus over the phone, "Just kiss the prat already. He's socially inept when it comes to relationships of this kind. You'll have to lead him. I've had some experience in the matter. I'll put Harry back on."
"Merlin, Severus! You couldn't leave it be, could you? I'm sorry." Harry's indignant tone had John laughing.
"No, I needed that. Thank you." He hung up, taking the stairs back to his flat and opened the door.
Sherlock was curled up on the couch misery plain in the usually unreadable sapphire eyes.
"John, I was-"
"Right. I do have feelings for you. It took me a bit to admit it to myself." he cut off the genius and sat down next to his flat-mate. "Sherlock, I'll be up-front with you. What is it you want out of this?"
"I... This is highly unusual. I don't even know what it is I'm feeling. You're my favorite mystery. I can never quite figure you out."
"Sherlock, I didn't mean what I said earlier. Umm... Oh, forget it." He lunged forward and kissed Sherlock, almost purring as Sherlock opened his mouth. "Mmm, was it good?" A light blush spread across Sherlock's gorgeous cheekbones.
"I haven't had any to compare it to." John closed his mouth with a sharp click. "What?"
"You-That was your first ever kiss?"
"Yes. I really do not see why there is all the fuss about it. In fact, now that it's over with, I'd like another." The surprisingly shy grin that graced the other man's features had John smirking before coaxing a second, third and fourth from his new boyfriend.
Donovan's jaw dropped as they came into New Scotland Yard with interlaced hands.
"I knew it." she hissed vindictively. "Freak corrupted the Normal." John laughed at her assumption. "Think it's funny, do you?"
"Yes actually. I was the one who kissed him not the way you were so obviously thinking." he informed her dryly, a sneer directed her way. "Didn't Lestrade need you for something, Sherlock?"
"I like the look. Your dry humor is what did her in, I see." Molly Hooper spluttered as she sprayed her coffee out of her nose. "The coroner as well? Hmm, maybe I should let you tag along on some of the more boring cases." John rolled his eyes and tugged on the slender hand, headed in the right direction. "John... You're ruining my fun."
"That's the point, genius." he murmured fondly, pressing him against one of the boring beige walls. "I'm a jealous bastard, Sherlock, so don't even think about it." Hardened cobalt eyes softened as Sherlock leaned down and planted a warm kiss on his lips. "Hmm, can never get enough of you."
"Did you call me by a pet name?"
"Maybe." he defended, smiling when Sherlock answered him with a wry grin.
"I like it." Detective Inspector Lestrade cleared his throat as he opened the door right beside them. "Yes, Lestrade?"
"You're going to like this." An eyebrow rose as Sherlock leaned into his touch, seeking out the contact like a cat rubbing against legs.
"Boring. Skip to the good part already, Lestrade." Sherlock huffed, rolling his eyes. "And don't put Anderson on the case. His stupidity is contagious in a way I don't like."
"It involves Special Unit W as well." John blinked as he saw Harry in his leather duster and Severus leaning against the wall, also in leather, with his arms crossed. "You know each other?"
John couldn't help laughing before he replied, "We're neighbors. Severus and Harry live in 221 A." Greg's eyes widened.
"See what I mean?" Sherlock put in, shaking his head at Greg's moment.
Self-diagnosed sociopath, Consulting Detective, Lover
Sherlock appreciated that John had tightened the grip on his hand. The two in front of him made him fidgety; both had clearly been in some type of conflict and the taller of the pair was also the dominant in the relationship. That was as obvious as the silver Celtic knotwork on their marriage bands. Not only that but they were clearly used to working together with complete strangers. The taller male's hand strayed toward what was clearly either a knife or weapon sheath.
"Conflict, something Mycroft can't tell me about, series of murders without a single mark on the person, all associated with Special Unit W. Did I get all of it? Ah. There's the hidden black tattoos on the left arm that indicate some former cult membership or something very close to it." The shorter male grinned and nodded.
"Nicely deduced Mr. Holmes. Can I call you Sherlock? Name's Harry." The hand held out had oddly placed callouses, some from swordwork and the other from an instrument that was clearly slender as well as fashioned for the dominant hand.
"You may... If you tell me what caused the callouses there, there and on the end of your index finger on your right hand."
"DI Lestrade, if you will?" Lestrade closed the door before propping his feet up on his desk. "We're Wizards."
"Natural or in-born?" Sherlock asked, his mind going faster than it usually did. "There are communities that have that ability."
"Bit of both, actually. Severus is an Air Element Master as well as accomplished Potions Master and Special Agent. I'm a Fire Elemental Master, Auror, which is like DI Lestrade in the Wizarding World and Special Agent. As for the callouses? They're caused by a broom, a wand and a sword."
"I figured out the swordwork. The broom and... wand come as a surprise." Harry flicked out what appeared to be a holly stick that was highly polished and looked to be carved to fit the younger man's hand. "May I?" It was handed over without a flinch. He examined it before handing it back. "I know that it was intensely personal for you to hand over that object. I apologize if there was any discomfort." Often his work took him beyond the realm of the regular. John was taking it pretty well that their neighbors were of the supernatural. The answer, once eliminating all improbable solutions as well as the insane, was impossible but entirely probable. Magic was real.
"Wow. So who is it we're supposed to be catching?" John managed calmly, a small smile playing about the sensual lips.
"Male, late-thirties, dark-haired, wears boots and what appears to be like the scholar robes of medieval times. Thinks that those bearing the tattoo should pay for imagined crimes that have been made up in his mind. He's very clearly insane." he quipped. "Also appears to be quite the figure in your world; one of the objects he left behind was labeled with a word I'll not bother to pronounce but will write down." Sherlock stole the pen off of Lestrade's desk and grabbed a legal pad before writing down the words that plagued him for days now; Quidditch Captain: Montrose Magpies. "What do you make of that?" Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
"You knew him or still keep contact with him."
"Both. Sev, you'll have to do it."
"Arrest the snot who gleefully destroyed some of my finest cauldrons during his seventh year? It'd be my pleasure. Those bearing that particular Mark were children who did not know the Dark Lord and were merely underlings to the lowest of the Death Eaters... Merlin, they weren't even directly involved."
"You were part of them." Sherlock's mind clicked in place.
"Sharp one. No wonder they called you in. Maybe we could use you on some of our cold cases. But, yes, I was in the Inner Circle." The man shucked off the duster quickly and rolled up the sleeve of his casual black shirt. Cat hairs, probably from a Bengal cat, if the ticking was any indication. The tattoo was a deep grey in color. "It's called the Mordesmorde."
"Ah." Sherlock understood. "Mycroft is made of secrets. I'm not surprised he kept this particular one anymore."
"Mycroft... Oh." that one word held a world of understanding, but not a smidgeon of pity. Sherlock liked Harry more and more. "Guess we better go and apprehend Oliver before he does it again."
"He has an accomplice. Female, by the length of the hair and the genetic structure. Also dark-haired and most likely of Asian descent." Emerald eyes narrowed before taking on a colder color, chips of frozen jade that suddenly made Harry the greater threat.
"Chang. It figures."
Sherlock uses the excuse to tag along of course. His mind's been in over-drive ever since their neighbors revealed who and what they were. Mmm, John's lips had a mind-numbing quality he'd kill for right now. Of course, his boyfriend (why do such plebeian titles always manage to fit the cliché?) seems to read said mind and kissed him temporarily senseless as they wait for the pair to attempt another murder.
Sherlock's the bait, of course, as no one else fits the profile of who they're attacking better and he wants a close-up look at genuine madness. The fake tattoo feels very odd as though he can scrub it off with soap and a little work. Harry has assured him it won't do such a thing, dousing him with ice-cold water to prove it. He resents that slightly; deductions are empirical proof and he requires such to forward his cases. John's an excellent actor. He'd have to be, what with lying to his face for most of their time shared in the flat repressing his feelings.
"Genius, please tell me we're actually going somewhere that isn't seedy?" Sherlock smiles at the nickname his hidden wolf manages to create. He loves that John is combatting the hurt feelings that Donovan causes with her callous words. John's adept at hiding things; ferocity that would make anyone stupid enough to cross him shake, loyalty that would make the most-devoted of bootlickers cring and best of all? A love that Sherlock needed more than air. It was why John followed him on cases, even with his psychomatic limp and tendency save Sherlock from whatever villain of the day. Even as they're being tracked, evidently by the woman (deduced by the tap of ridiculously high stilettos and the rustling of dress slacks at a distance of no more than a meter) he feels safe with his wolf.
"Mmm, no. Tonight is a concerto of the concentrated kind."
"Violin or string quartet?" John's musically-inclined enough that he understands the very fundamental difference between the two.
"Wolf? Where'd you get that?"
"You're sneaky, you know, for being so open. Fierce, loyal and you love me unlike any other I've known." he whispered, sliding his slender hand up John's strong thigh. "Hidden wolf in sheep's clothing."
"Ah. She's pressing rather close." his boyfriend whispers back, interlacing their fingers, the concert hall maitre'd not even phased. The fool is blind to everything but subtle monetary tips and dangerous criminals. "Think we'll even make it through the first piece?"
"Through the fourth in the very least. She's not prone to the attacks her compatriot is, my wolf." Sherlock sighed as he closed his eyes to the first strains of Vivaldi. People gasp and make noises he thinks make them sound like the idiots they are. Really, it's not his fault most of the people he encounters besides John, Lestrade and his neighbors in 221 A are monumentally handicapped by that disease called stupidity.
She makes her move as they come back from a heavy snogging session in the darkest corner they could find.
"Move it, Death Eater scum. Step away from the Imperioused Muggle and hand over your wand." she hisses convincingly.
"Or what, Ms. Chang?" He's curious as to what action she will follow. Will she be a typical villain or be more creative and original, Moriarty-style?
"I'll do something worse than what you are doing to that poor man." Sherlock relaxes as Harry and Severus circle around, the other criminal already detained and knocked out, laughing as she becomes infuriated. "Stop that, you low-life. You have no right!"
"Harry, now would be a good time to remove it." he drawls casually, still wrapped around John like his favorite scarf. A swish, flick and thump are heard one after the other, her eyes full of an emotion Sherlock had experienced only once in his thirty-five years. Yes, Moriarty was obsessed but not truly demented as this witch was. "Caught at your own game. Doesn't feel very nice, does it?" BORING! She acted as he'd predicted. It seemed criminals were all stupid, regardless of ability or where they came from...
"A Muggle? No, damn it, we were sure you-"
"Happened to be a member of the lowest of the low ranks of Death Eaters? Foolish gesture on your part, leaving evidence of your existence when your companion did not upon occasion. Crime scenes always leave trace amounts of something, be it hair or scent. I deduced you from those as well as your absurd fascination with heels. Trade-mark, yes, height of idiocy, yes; but the criminal always returns to the scene of the crime. See, John? Stupidity is rampant now more than ever." Sherlock quipped, picking up the willow wand and examining it with a detached curiosity. "Can I have this?" Harry chuckles softly and shrugs, "I don't see why not."
"Isn't it breaking the rules?" his wolf asks, a green eerily similar to Harry's concerned under furrowed golden brows.
"The criminals never get them back and we're actually tempted to break most of them if not for the craftsmanship put into them." Severus murmured quietly. "It is quite painful when a wand is snapped. We have a saying, 'The wand chooses the Wizard.' Perhaps we should get them tested?" John frowned even more as he slid a hand up Sherlock's thigh in clear retaliation for the concerto. "Tested? What for and why?"
Harry laughed and popped away while Severus sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as Sherlock often did in the presence of idiots, "Harry will be the death of me yet... I mean that sometimes Wizards do not develop at the age of eleven as is expected. Certain Talents do not require much magic but are highly prized in the Wizarding World. It appears you two classify as a rare Talent*."
Talents were trained very quickly, as some of them tended to be around the thirty to forty age-range. Sherlock had been separated from John with no explanation; now he was expected to answer some nit-wit's questionnaire? He growled in the back of his throat and crossed his arms.
"Sir, we really need you to-" John was thrust into the room with him, the nit-wit backing off as Sherlock inspected his wolf for damage. "Oh! Wow." He was still wrapped around John when he heard the startled tone. "You're the other set of Elementals... That explains a lot of your mood when we separated the pair of you."
"I'm telling you my wolf, idiots abound. This much stupid is like being around Anderson twenty-four/seven..." he whined into the lush tawny locks. "Make him go away. He's boring."
"You still haven't answered the questions?"
"No." he sniffed, staring at the parchment like it would write on itself.
"Why?" There is infinite patience behind the warm tone John takes with him.
"He expects me to use an antiquated tool that I have no idea of how to hold properly and did not explain it in the least." Sherlock knew he was being petulant. He only got this way around Mycroft and lately John.
"Come here. It's called a Dicta-Quill. You speak what you want your answer to be and direct it to the appropriate section of the questionnaire."
"Oh." Now Sherlock felt foolish, grumbling into a warm shoulder as he watched John finish the questions.
"Stop that, genius. Now it's your turn." He scowls at the quill (why even use them when there was an endless supply of biros to be had?) before dictating his answers. The parchment was quite a bit longer than John's. The fool stares at the nearly meter-long parchments and swallows sharply. A wave of what appears to be a cherry wood wand summons forth a silvery rabbit, nose twitching as the Wizard whispers to it. "Feeling better now?"
"He's staring at you like you're some sort of miracle." he huffs, nosing John's warm neck with relish. "My miracle." Sherlock can't help himself. John's just so comforting that the urge to ravish his mouth in front of the awe-struck man makes him mischievous.
"No, Sherlock." he frowns as John looks up with the serious hazel he adores so very much. "Deduce him but don't humiliate him."
"Middle child in a family of five, older brother's dead by the same conflict that shadows our neighbors, loves his work, is obsessed with our younger neighbor (a carry-over from the elder brother's), can't stand the woman who's cheating behind his back and wants nothing more than to call our results false because the parchments have never been that long for a Talent so very late in springing forth." he muttered into his wolf's ear, very tempted to lick the outer shell carefully.
"He's been outside no less than eight times this very afternoon to collect other raw Talent which clearly did not have as good results. His servant, likely one of those odd, bat-like creatures (house elf is such an unfit name for them), clearly adores him as his clothing is well-kept if a bit frayed due to wild spending on the cheating girl. Repairs are not frequent enough to suggest poverty on an extreme scale and he's been sucking cock recently."
John coughs at the last deduction and clears his throat softly, "What makes you think that, genius?"
"The semen in his hair and the way his face is pink, as if he's given it a good scrubbing. His lips are swollen and his breath is quite unsteady for such a stable job... Not to mention the carpet fibers of an expensive shag carpet imbedded into the cotton knees of the trousers." At that, John sniggered lightly.
"Mmm, you are so getting to second-base..." his wolf whispers into his ear, standing on tip-toes to be so close. "Kiss?" Sherlock obliges willingly as the tester chokes on the next intake of air. "I think we killed him."
"His mind is blown because he cannot fathom how much I cherish you for what you are; normal in a way I have never been." Soft laughter is his roommate's response this time as opposed to the embarrassed shuffling Sherlock would have expected once. He knows now that John's full of layers that never appear all at the same time.
"Yes and I appreciate your striking features and even sharper wit. It's not every day that you meet a genius." the words are truthful, warm in a way Mycroft has never managed to convey. A sudden pop and Sherlock is behind John, his boyfriend's imaginary hackles raised. Has he mentioned the reflexive protective streak? Huge turn-on.
"Relax. Creevey tells me you're quite close for a Talented pair." the deep voice is one he's familiar with.
"The other Holmes... and Dr. Watson? Impressive. I see you've managed to break the record for the most Talents available to teach to you." Sherlock rolls his eyes at the response. "You're not Mycroft; of this I am well aware. He also had the Talent and he's put it to good use."
"Being the British Government requires a lot to keep going. Of course he took advantage of what he could from wherever he could get it." he explained as if Kingsley were a small, insufferable child. Which, in many ways, he still is; wand-waving is not something most of the British Government's employees are trained to do. Fixated on Mycroft of all people... Eternal optimism really was good for the Wizard pining after his brother. "However, keep your flame banked. He's got a thing for deep voices and chocolate." Slate-grey eyes narrowed thoughtfully and Sherlock knew this was the right man for his brother.
"Back to you and your Healer, Mr. Holmes. Dr. Watson has the Talent to Heal; Mind, Soul and Body. It's rare to find even one Talent in that field."
"What of my Talent?" he manages to ask through sheer audacity.
"Mind Talent... Specifically Seer..."
"What else is so bad that you will not say it out loud?"
"Localis Domine." the last part is whispered. "Suggestive mind control via water and earth." Sherlock tightens his hold lightly on John.
"No. I will not-"
"Sherlock, what is so wrong with the Talent?" John asks calmly from his place in Sherlock's arms.
"It takes away free will. Mycroft and I discovered it a long time ago. I've not thought about it years."
Of course, his immense mind manages to do two things at once; listen to the ongoing conversation while another, more sinister part slips past the walls of the fortress he's built around the memory...
It's afternoon and two brothers, bound by blood and Talent (though they've no knowledge of it just yet) are playing in the Manor Garden. Mycroft (the elder by seven years) whispers to ten-year old Sherlock that he could be King if he wanted to. That people did things for them if they pushed into others with their minds.
Sherlock, being the innocent he still is at this moment, does not like the look in his brother's eyes that are so very similar to what he sees in the mirror each morning. This isn't big brother talking of faery tales or knights that do as you ask when you have done them a favor most kind; no, what he sees is pure insanity.
"No. I won't help you." he says, his soft cerulean eyes becoming cold and distant.
"Come on, little brother. It won't hurt anything." Oh, the lure, the absolute promise in that voice. Sherlock resists with everything he has, standing between his brother and his lurid dreams.
"No." Glacial white-blue meets midnight sapphire in a challenge that cannot be backed away from. "Find some other way. You promised it was for good; to help those who need it most."
"I... might have bent the truth. Just enough for you to see its potential." the tone is cheerful and it grates on every part Sherlock has in his possession.
"I see it's wrong. What have you done?"
"Oh, a few manipulations here and there." The tone is light now but Sherlock can feel the oily Dark that is ever present recently in his brother's tone.
"You're not Mycroft." He accuses, his castle in the sky in his mind safe from the ground-strikes of this thing pretending to be his brother.
"Ah! You are smarter than I gave you credit for, much smarter. I like your castle. Where's it from?"
"Gulliver's Travels." Sherlock murmured, concealing his castle behind thorn and bracket, bramble and thicket, weaving an impenetrable fortress.
"Briar Rose and Rapunzel. By the way, checkmate." The creature's suddenly white eyes are anguished as Sherlock crushed it with all of the power he could feel. "Where's my true brother?"
"In his room, trapped in shadowed lies."
John touched his face gently with warm fingertips, pulling him from the only time in his life he'd ever used that power.
"Oh, Sherlock... You did the right thing, my genius, even if it does not seem so now or then." There is no pity in John's voice save for a brutal understanding even as the tumultuous memory slides over his.
Heat waves rise up from dunes that seem familiar yet hold no place in a man's mind. This particular village is silent save for the frantic medics and doctors doing their best to save the brave men and women that sacrificed everything for liberty. Blood spatters decorate everything; clothing, walls of adobe, staining the sand deep red as it seeped from bodies stacked ten high. John was numb. He had to be, seeing as he was bandaging wounds and inoculating soldiers the minute they were handed to him. It was an innocent nineteen-year old boy who reminded John too much of his sister that had released the restraint upon his own powers.
Power, pure and immense poured from somewhere deep within; a veritable ocean that overflowed. The wounds sealed up and it was as if the teen had never been injured. The amazed Evac-personnel had asked what he'd done, but John'd had no clue what that was a precursor to his hidden Talents. Then the surprise attack, John tackling one of his fellow medics into the sand and taking the bullet for him, black edging his vision...
Sherlock broke the connection slowly, easing out of John's mind without leaving any presence or injury.
"Oh." Again there is understanding, tempered with age and time. "You're an empath too." Sherlock allows calm (that only serves him well on cases that drive him batty) to surface but John rolls his eyes and swats his shoulder.
"No. I have more than enough. What I need is for you to be your usual, maniac self." comes a firm voice that Sherlock has termed the 'Doctor' voice. The color shifted with John's mood and at the moment, his eyes are once more the tawny flecked hazel that Sherlock finds particularly warming.
"Be careful what you wish for, my wolf." John flashed him a sweet smile.
"I know what I'm asking for."
John drags him to a humane shelter, muttering something about needing animal companionship.
"Why do we need a dog? Cats are much more self-sufficient."
"Cats hiss at you, Sherlock. How have you not noticed?"
"Estragon doesn't." he protests, a faint smile on his face as the Bengal familiar that twines about his legs comes to mind.
"That's because he's half-Kneazel. A dog is sweeter anyway."
"You just want more company that loves you unconditionally and won't leave you in the middle of a chase." Sherlock grumbles. "Dogs don't like me either. You know that, wolf."
"I beg to differ." comes the lightly sarcastic quip. "Do you have any puppies?" Sherlock suppressed a shudder as she eyed both him and John up like pieces of meat.
"Quite a few. Right this way, sir." Sherlock trails after John, taking in the sterile cages. One dog in particular catches his eyes. It looks half-wild, amber eyes looking up and seeming to display hopelessness. He leaves John with the excited woman (who is also cheating on her boyfriend, but to say that isn't polite and John's quite adamant about that now) chattering away about the cute little puppies. The dog sits up as he kneels before the cage.
"Hello. I bet you're bored." He's rewarded with a wolfish grin that somehow reaches his heart. "I'm taking you back to the flat with me. I don't care what John says. He can keep his puppy."
"Sir, that's not advise-" Sherlock ignores the panicky volunteer and pets the massive dog, his fingers sinking into lush fur. He hears a deep croon coming from his dog. Yes, this one would do nicely.
"Sherlock I found-Oh."
"Sir, I suggest you take you hand out of that cage. That's a wolf-hybrid and we have him scheduled for euthanasia."
"I'll take him." John smiles at his stubborn streak.
"I generally don't repeat myself." he sneers, itching to deduce the idiot trying to reach for the tranq-gun. "John, explain." His roommate rolled his eyes and took both of them gently by the elbows, explaining in his soothing voice. "You'll be Mozart." he comments casually to the hybrid. A quiet woof and wag of tail is his answer this time.
"He's never taken to anyone before, sir. Are you sure you want to take him?"
"Obviously. John, did you find your puppy?"
"Yes. Sherlock... You do realize we have to take them on leashes?"
"Mozart is smarter than your average dog, much like I am. It's why we get along so well." he explained to the confounded personnel.
"Mmmhmm. Where do we sign?"
Lord, Healer, Husband
Harry strode through the Ministry up to Kingsley's office; Sherlock and John had clearly been Talented.
"Ah, Harry. Just who I wanted to see! Your two boys shot through the roof with Talent. Holmes has got Localis Domine and Watson Cura Totolariat. It's the best Talent we've come across in years... They're unusual for an Elemental pair. Water and Earth are grudging allies not infatuated with one another." The other Wizard sighed, sitting down with a thump on the cushioned chair.
"Sherlock is an enigma, Kings, and I've lived next door to him for nearly a decade. Of course, there's John to consider. He's the only tenant not grossed out too badly by the body-parts Sherlock keeps in the fridge for 'research' purposes." he says honestly. Kingsley can't stand liars and Harry appreciates being able to exercise his Gryffindor side more. "Six tenants in less than six weeks makes him a bit unstable or they were absolute wankers about everything."
"I vote the latter theory husband. Chang and Wood are in Interrogation, Kings." The man sighs and rests with his head propped up with both hands like a bored teenager. "That means only one thing, my old friend. See something you want?"
"... Yes, yes I do. But Merlin on high, I can't tell if he bats for the other team or not! Sherlock said to keep up with what I'm doing." Severus chuckled as Kingsley thunked his head on the desk. "Bloody hell, Mycroft probably thinks I'm an idiot everytime I stutter when he stares at me. I don't even know what it is I'm doing right." the last is a rather quiet admission and Harry patted the Minister on the shoulder gently.
"Being yourself, Kings. You're unbelievably hot even when you're acting like a headless hippogriff."
The next time Harry sees the gorgeous pair is when John invites them over for breakfast, Sherlock even promising to behave if Severus spills his guts about the explosions. Estragon has become very fond of John (besides Harry reasonably) because all he does is pet the affectionate furball. Mozart and Gladstone also get along surprisingly well with his familiar.
"Estragon does not appreciate a different type of poison in every morning meal." Severus mutters as he sniffs his tea discreetly. "The insufferable beast also refuses to eat anything from my hands either."
"John too. Honestly, he says that hallucinogenics in his morning tea are not conducive to the hours at the clinic. Mozart won't open his mouth and Gladstone has picked up his example... Infuriating, I tell you."
"Harry's Warded all of our food. It is ridiculous. One corner of the bread was part of a Potion I was supposed to be developing and... He threw it away because of sanitary issues."
"I propose we rid ourselves of them; conduct an experiment upon bread, belladonna and its effects when mildly inhaled." Sherlock volunteered as he tears off pieces of Harry's carefully prepared waffles before taking a bite. "Mmm, nevermind. I'm stealing your green-eyed Wizard."
"Hmph. Imagine all you like, Holmes, Harry is my husband. Although I am tempted to abscond with your in-resident Healer."
"My wolf is loyal to me." The exchange is said softly as John absently dances to the radio and something feels warm in Harry's heart. Sherlock's expression softens and Severus raises an eyebrow as the other pair sway in place for a moment.
"What are you thinking about, little Seeker?" murmurs his husband as he snags Harry's waist.
"How utterly beautiful this all is. I want them, just as much as I wanted you on that battlefield over a decade ago." The Bond hums with deep contentment as Harry yields to his husband's gentle Legimency.
"I have a place in that heart of yours, husband mine. Do not forget it as we pursue our interests."
"Never even crossed my mind, Sev."
The pursuit of Sherlock and John had to be Slytherin subtle, not Gryffindor brashness. Harry knew this well as he'd employed the same strategy for Severus. However, it was hard to think when his husband kept running his hands up and down Harry's thighs.
"Severus... I can't think when you do that." he murmured softly, casually shifting so that his robes covered the erection Severus was giving him in yet another boring meeting that he would never remember anyway. Severus, even lust-addled, could remember everything said to him. He squeaked when Severus stopped as Mycroft Holmes came into the room.
"Ah, umm, Mr. Holmes... You weren't scheduled until near two."
"I thought I'd drop by a little early." the unspoken 'I wanted to see you like that' predatory look made Harry giggle. Kingsley was so screwed.
Despite the meetings, Harry did love his job. Criminals were still criminals but his true job was Healing; specifically for those who could not afford St. Mungo's or did not care for it. House-calls were his specialty. He strode down the road from St. Ottery's Catchpole, avoiding the empty house that held so many memories. Luna wanted him to confirm her readings of twins. He knocked politely on the Lovegood's door and Luna greeted him sweetly.
"Luna." he scooped her up in a warm hug. "How's Rolf?"
"The Humdingers are in heat. He's studying them now." she replied serenely.
"Mmmhmm. Can I come in?" They sat down on the (surprisingly a duller color that the usual) lilac couch and Harry spread his fingers over Luna's gently rounded stomach. Two curious presences greeted his brush before he sent a pulse of magic throughout her womb. He grinned, looking up to see Rolf and Luna engaged in a heated snogging session. "Erm... That would be a yes, Lu." She waved him away impatiently, something Harry gladly complied with.
The accidental kiss was a surprise. It came several weeks after their first meeting but Harry still blushed at the memory.
He scowled at the rain pouring down outside of his favorite café, The Lightning Strike. John laughed at his expression, mimicking him with a more ridiculous face than he probably was making. Two steaming cups of piping hot cocoa sat in front of them, half-finished as they chit-chatted. His phone rang and he yelped as his butt vibrated.
"At your service, please hold on the Avada until after you have spoken."
"Harry, cut the crap. Do you know a Sherlock Holmes?" Ron snickered before he became serious.
"Sherlock's invaded your crime scene. He's got Talent but don't get in his way. Clear the scene and wait. He's intelligent beyond anyone you've met besides Sev."
"He said that Dean was an idiot." Ron would take offense as Dean was his Auror partner.
"He thinks everyone save for a few people he's close to is an idiot. Think nothing of it, he does it to everybody... Am I on speaker again?"
"Yes, you are. I have everything just about finished but I need your help as my Latin's a bit rusty. It might even be Italian. Is John on his computer?" Sherlock promptly answered.
"Mmmhmm. What did you need translated?"
"Magus Erotica, il suo morte Domine. Io voglio tu; in bocca al lupo." Harry swallowed sharply and choked on his sip of cocoa.
"I said, bugger. That's a threat against me. Is the victim dark-haired?"
"...Yes. What exactly was that?" Harry cursed again.
"Actually, that was aimed at our marriage. Ron, hand the phone to Sherlock."
"I put it back on headset. I take it this is bad?"
"Not really, since we do get semi-regular death-threats. I've never had anyone kill in my name though, or mention the true extent of my abilities... They're obviously high in government if they're revealing that tidbit." He growled slightly at the thought of anyone threatening the happiness he had with Severus.
"Ah. I suggest you look for a woman then. Heavy-set, most likely bow-legged, curly grey hair and wears kitten heels. Mmm, wait. You, go get me that fiber in the folds of the robe. The bright pink one. Wool, I think, and finely made. Do you know anyone fitting that particular visage?"
"Oh, sweet Merlin." Umbridge? He shuddered at the thought of ever getting close to her in that manner.
"Impressive. I don't think I've ever seen that reaction in multiple men."
"She probably tortured half of the Auror Corps while she taught during my fifth year. Blood-Quills are nasty things to have on hand so casually as she did."
"I take it your friend will explain?"
"No. Just get out of there before her spies spot you."
"Understood." The line clicked as the call suddenly ended. He looked up and accidentally locked eyes with John. Fierce tawny-flecked hazel looked at him with what seemed to be admiration.
"You care about him." John stated it rather than putting it into a question.
"He's misunderstood. It's the reason I care so much; not many people can take constant derision."
"You'd do the same for me?" Harry had a mouthful of cocoa while he thought. Would he do the same for his fellow ex-soldier? He was incredibly sweet, funny and his features, while not particularly catching at a normal first glance, were something that would look beautiful in the throes of passion. In answer to this particular conundrum?
"Why?" Oh, John was also smart even if he kept it hidden behind sly remarks that Sherlock obviously found arousing.
"Always the hardline hmm?" He leaned closer to tell John exactly what he thought when the door flung open from the squalling winds, shoving the older man into his lap and the warm chapped lips straight onto his own. The blissful pleasure made his magic slide over John in a manner it usually only reacted to when he was in the middle of being fucked by his husband. Ooo, bad time to start his Heat... They broke away sharply as the need for air came up, his lustful green eyes locking again with the burning hazel that was so very much a turn-on.
John avoided him for nearly two days, even turning in the opposite direction if he was around. The Heat rumbled, his magic concentrated on finding suitable 'Mates' that didn't back down at the first sign of danger. Severus was acutely aware that Harry considered their marriage very good... and he was quite alright with seducing the neighbors into their bed.
"Dammit, John, wait!" Harry'd had enough of the evasion tactics. They were coming back after a walk.
"What? I didn't mean to-" John sputtered before Harry placed a hand over the sensual mouth. Gladstone whined and sat down, the sweet puppy obviously confused.
"Shh. I know you didn't but avoiding me isn't going to help it either. Especially not with my Heat starting."
John made a sound that was half-way between a rumble and a squeak, "Your what?"
"Heat." He spoke the word with utter calm.
"Whoa, umm, did I start it?"
"Mmm-mmm, but you did help it along. Listen. I need you to grab Sherlock from wherever he is. Bring him over and we'll explain."
"O-Okay. Let me feed Gladstone and Mozart. We'll be right over."
They sat across from John and Sherlock, Harry nibbling on his lower lip as he thought about the best way to explain his true nature.
"Merlin, where to start?"
"What is Magus Erotica?" Sherlock asked, a dark brow raised as he asked the question.
"That's what I am. Literally translated that's Erotic Mage, but it's more complicated that. We're essentially power boosters and hold more magic than an average Wizard or Witch can ever hope to attain within a century and a half. The thing is... All of that magic can get knotted if it stays inside of the Mage. It's happened on more than one occasion and I take months to recover if it does occur. So, nature came up with a solution; Heats. Heats are our way of unknotting the magic we have if it gets wound tight."
"I need to be relaxed. Which is where the sex comes in." John blushed and Sherlock's eyebrows rose in astonishment at his bluntness. "Don't look at me like that. It's completely natural and I'm built for it. Hell, the first one nearly killed me because I was denying myself... Sev saved my life."
"You denied yourself? How?"
"Umm, by using restrictions. It only made my Heat worse and noticeable to half the school. I was releasing pheromones at a rate I'm sure would do an animal proud." Harry never liked explaining that the only 'Mate' his Heat would accept was Severus, as it saw a potential stabilizer; he had denied himself by simply not looking at the man. That had gone about as well as a pound of bricks. "Madame Pompfrey Stunned me and basically demanded why I was doing so. Got sorted out quickly after that."
"You didn't have the relationship you do now back then."
"Understatement of the century. We hated each other's guts for existing in the same place... Can't really keep it up when you're both exhausted from round after round of Heat-induced sex though."
"So why are we here?" John was straight to the point.
"It's decided to nominate the two of you."
"Whoa. Umm, is it... sentient?" was hesitantly asked.
"Sort of? I can't really explain it."
"Heat is semi-sentient. It can detect the fact that the pair of you don't back down in the face of danger. I would like to warn you ahead of time; Harry becomes a horny bastard, so I'd clear your schedules for the next few days." his husband murmured, kneading his shoulders to dispel the tension he held in them.
"Tell them about the other thing, Sev." he sighed as he relaxed. "I want them fully informed."
"Harry can get possessive-"
"Severus." he warned, not appreciating the stalling. "Merlin hang it all... I can get pregnant." Sherlock blinked, his brilliant cobalt eyes glazing over at the thought while John appeared thoughtful, brow furrowing.
"By all three of us?"
"I liked you before the Heat. Thought you ought to know that before we get 'involved'... if you even want to."
"'If you even want to' he says." John scoffed, scooting off of the couch and kneeling in front of Harry, taking his hands into the slender cool ones. "Harry, you're breath-taking. Anyone would be lucky to have you and I'm jealous of as well as for you because Severus is fucking hot." Severus looked at the ex-soldier with something akin to shock.
"I am not-"
"Oh, yes you are." Harry cut off his husband with a wide grin.
Lord, Potions Master, Husband
Severus couldn't deny the fact that all three men thinking of him in that manner was arousing; especially as searing cobalt, emerald and tawny-flecked hazel locked with his own obsidian gaze. Sherlock smirked as he gracefully strode over to them, plopping himself directly in Severus's lap.
"Harry, you are exquisite. Humbleness is a trait you don't often see in people who believe they're beautiful." quipped the younger man, sapphire eyes intrigued and full of desire more than anything. "And you... Well, your voice is just downright sin."
"Is that all?"
"Hmm, no. You've got a mind to rival mine, a killer instinct and... Mmm... A really, really delicious cock." Sherlock whispered as he straddled Severus's lap. "Mind if I taste you?"
"It depends on what you want." Severus purred back, his hands sliding up the long thighs to rest on Sherlock's hips. "Harry?" His husband smiled gently and coaxed John up.
"Go ahead. I think that John and I'll enjoy the sight." Severus nuzzled into Sherlock's neck and pressed soft kisses to the tension-laced muscle. The resident detective moaned lowly, relaxing into his hold; kisses and nips brought him to the sensual lips. He paused, locking gazes with the incredible cerulean, waiting for permission. As Sherlock nodded imperceptively with a small smile, Severus pressed a chaste kiss to them. That quickly evolved into a battle for dominance that Severus won his grip tightening as he rumbled deep in his chest. They were cut off by the chime of the Floo.
"Who is it?" he growled, running his fingers up and down Sherlock's back in a reassuring manner.
"Oh, Merlin... I'll Floo you back?" His oldest friend disappeared faster than was strictly necessary.
"Kingsley's head was in the fire. Care to explain?" Sherlock asked dryly.
The threat Harry had warned him about had a Muggle counter-part. They arrived on-scene and the crowd parted when he gave them the glare he'd perfected on third-year Hufflepuffs. The emblazoned Spec. Unit W on the back of their leather dusters caused astonishment to break through the ranks of officers on duty. It was well-known that they only arrived on scene if it had something to do with the government.
"Signs of defensive wounds, no sign of a weapon used. Poison?" Their liaison muttered, scratching his head in confusion.
"Hardly, Lestrade. We wouldn't be here if it was. Holmes is on his way." Donovan graced their presence with her own sneer. Severus dismissed her with barely a glance.
"The Freak? Please, like we need him here with the pair of you covering the quota."
"What quota is that, exactly, Donovan?" Anderson gave the woman a hand motion but she ignored the subtle warning.
"The fucking fairy one." He gave her an evil little smile before he ripped into her for the second time.
"Ah. I suppose you're here to fill in for the home-wrecking whore then." She gasped and opened her mouth before he cut her off again. "If the shoe fits, Donovan. Even the officers in other departments know you're easy. It is not hard to come to the conclusion."
"This is harassment!"
"Is it? As far as I can recall, you did start the encounter. The other officers will support me if you take this up past Lestrade."
"Umm, sir? The vic... He looks like you." The DI looked like a recruit with that sickened expression and green tinge.
"Of that I am well aware, DI Dimmock. This pertains more to our side of the house than yours."
"Figures you'd have some psycho after you, Sniv-" Severus'd had enough. He never gave second chances; ever. Drawing his blade he advanced on her, the silver of the sword glinting in the low light of the scene. The tip touched skin, not breaking through just yet.
"Speak again, Donovan. Please by all means." he said in the most pleasant tone of voice he could muster. "Listen very carefully, you obstinate fool, as I do not give second chances. I could drive this blade right through you and not go to jail. Ah, it begins to dawn on you. Excellent. The woman targeting Harry and I is just as deadly. This is her way of showing power over us. We've had a similar string of homicides on our end. She's not going to stop unless we stop her. Understand?" he hissed lowly, pressing the blade deeper and puncturing the skin.
The crimson liquid rivuleted down the blood-well, dripping to the ground in a parody of past battles he'd witnessed. He flicked his wrist and his broadsword was released from her hold, slicing a particularly nasty cut into the flesh. Casually pulling a cloth from his duster pocket to wipe down the blade seemed to snap the others out of their stupor. "Don't you have evidence to finish collecting?" Harry shook his head gently, interlacing their fingers as he sheathed his blade. "Donovan deserved it."
"Not saying she didn't. Sherlock will probably want a Pensieve viewing."
"Maybe." Sherlock slipped under the tape and his eyes flicked back and forth, taking in all of the details... including the small puddle of Donovan's blood. Ebony brows furrowed as he took that last in, finally alighting on Harry and himself.
"I have everything figured out but the method of death and why there's a puddle of blood on the floor."
"The curse is called Avada Kedavara. As for the blood... Donovan will have a nice scar on her neck." he commented slyly, patting his broadsword. John (this came as a slight surprise) grinned viciously, cackling as he spotted the Sergeant pressing gauze to her wound. There! That was the hidden wolf in sheep's clothing Sherlock had mentioned earlier... No wonder John made such a good medic and an even better doctor. Predatory instinct was laced into his very actions when he forgot about his psychomatic limp. Severus knew what Harry and Sherlock saw in the smaller male suddenly; he certainly was already breath-taking in his own way.
"I take you'll enjoy it when we show you the memory?"
"You can do that? I'd love to see that; Donovan put in her place."
Mycroft Holmes was dangerous when he wanted to be. However, having survived two Wizarding Wars and the insanity of his former Master, Severus happened to be unfazed as the security detail aimed their guns on him.
"You're associating with my brother."
"This is cause for kidnapping? I do have my husband and Potions to get back to you know." he shot back, wordlessly unlocking his cuffs & scraping back his hair casually. "Really, I mean that in every possible way. Say what you need to, Mycroft, and let me leave."
"Why should I?" Severus scowled and planted his hands on the metal desk, staring directly into familiar cobalt.
"My husband is on his Heat cycle. We have a murderous bitch of a woman after him and she won't rest until she has my Harry in her clutches. Now, we can talk civilly but shortly or I can blow this safe-house to kingdom come and we cannot bother at all. Do we understand one another?"
"What are your intentions for my brother?" The questions are flat bordering on ice with the tone. "What of John?"
"Not that it is any of your business, but Harry and I are Courting them both. Is that all?" Severus stiffly replied, hissing his question.
"As of now, Mr. Snape? Yes."
He sent out owls to various patrons, explaining that he had an urgent Family problem which would take a few days as well as the fact that he would be back shortly. Just as he was about to flick the sign to 'Closed', one of the Weasleys showed up. Thankfully it was Bilius; Severus didn't think he could handle the rambunctious Twins as of now.
"Oh. Umm, I'll come back again if you're closing up..."
"Harry would never forgive me if I turned you down. What is it you need?" The eldest Weasley child shuffled for a moment before producing a prescription parchment. "Ah. Good thing I have that in stock." He snagged the complex scar healing potion and charged the eldest to Harry's tab.
"What do I-"
"You know that Harry refuses to let you pay here. Shoo." he murmured civilly, locking the door as the man stepped out along with him. "Go home to your brats."
"Will do." was the ever-cheerful response. "You should make some of your own with Harry."
"... I will take that into consideration."
The activation of Harry's Heat lead to John begging leave from his duties at the clinic and Sherlock closing all requests on his website**. Harry was more emotional during his Heats so he baked to control the raging hormones that were eerily similar to a pregnant woman's. Severus opened the door to a safe, happy husband. They also had a content pair of lovers as well as a trio of sleepy animals curled up on the sofa and floor respectively.
"Evening, husband." he pressed soft kisses to Harry's exposed shoulder and neck. "How is my Mage tonight?"
"Mmm, it seems alright with their presence. It likes Mozart and Gladstone." John greeted him with a soft smile as Sherlock continued to snooze on the Healer's lap. "Sherlock was lulled to sleep with it."
"He's been working non-stop on your series of homicides. It's about time he crashed." came the reassuring answer.
"Still... Do you mind if I cast a diagnostic?"
"Go ahead." John shrugged, carding his fingers through the silky black curls. The scan came back positive except for sleep. Severus flashed John a quick smile before snagging a cookie off of the plate in the kitchen and flicking on the telly. All was right in his world.
Of course, the karmatic laws found this too convenient for Severus to handle; they threw the one person he despised in his way. Umbridge somehow managing to kidnap both Sherlock and Harry. He was beyond infuriated. John was knocked out and their familiars were injured. Severus revived John first, coaxing the distraught Healer into concentrating on the animals as he called in Harry's friends and his own shadowy contacts. Lucius was the first to arrive, surveying the scene with an unparalleled horror before it slid behind the Malfoy mask.
"Who would be so bold?"
"Umbridge. I warned both Scrimogour and Kingsley to incarcerate her." he snarled, gently wiping blood from John's lips as he supported the Talent in standing up. "Are you alright, wolf?"
"As I'll ever be with Sherlock and Harry missing." His lover's ingrained habits snapped to the fore, John's stance military rigid and his eyes colder than Severus had ever seen. "When are the rest of the search party getting here?" Lucius looked impressed as their wolf (had it only been last night that they'd decided that?) fixed up a war table and sketches of Umbridge.
"Now actually. Do you expect to participate, Muggle?" At the dismissive tone of his best mate, John's lips lifted into a sneer. He spat the word with more venom that Lucius had ever used, "Damn straight I am, Wizard. Sherlock is mine and that stupid bitch is dead when I get my hands on her Hippocratic Oath or not. If she's even thought about touching Harry... Well, let's just say you'll find her in pieces." The normally warm hazel is a dark amber in color, almost the same shade as Mozart's, and John's hands are flexing as he stands still.
"I see what you mean by wolf, Severus." Lucius knew he'd brought it upon himself.
"I did warn you."
"Severus-Oh. Hello. You are?" Hermione got straight to the point and stopped as she spotted John.
"Care to explain, Severus?" He sighed and swept his lover into a private embrace setting up unbreakable Wards for the moment.
"John, luv, Harry and Sherlock need you to be strong right now." A choked sob soon became waterworks and Severus let John cry it out.
"Dammit, I fought as hard as I could, Sev! I wasn't a match for them... She just aimed that-that wand of hers and I was helpless as she took them away. I wasn't that helpless in Afghanistan! Where was that Talent when I needed it most?" Ah. That was easy to answer.
"Your Talent is to Heal and not everyone has the patience or care for it."
"It didn't help." came the stubborn reply.
"Doctors are dangerous for a reason, John. Use that knowledge to stun, to hinder. I will protect you from any return fire but you need to trust me." Hardened hazel snapped up to meet grim onyx. "Good, you understand it is not my intention to leave you here."
"They better not..." He dismantled the Wards and turned to face the assembled teams.
"Umbridge has sealed Intel Room 15. He's not coming along?"
"Do you take me for a fool? He's fully trained in combat that Aurors are unfamiliar with if she has them involved in her little scheme. John is more than capable in taking care of himself if I shield him." he sighed, spelling out to them slowly. "He's also close to Harry and I; that woman has taken his lover." John grinned savagely as his mind clicked with Sherlock's. "How are they?"
"She's monologuing, according to Sherlock. He thinks it's hilarious."
"Of course he would. Harry's condition?" John slipped back into meditation, his eyes opening as he assessed the situation.
"Tied up on a chair behind Sherlock. He's worried because Harry's stopped responding to his mental chatter." Merlin damn Umbridge!
"The Heat's recognized a threat. We have to get there now."
The room was Warded with traps and endless curses. William Weasley looked a little green at the thought of picking apart such dangerous Wards. John huffed, scraped back his hair and slipped through all of them with ease. He then picked the lock on the door. The Wards dismantled faster than Severus had ever seen them do.
"I'm not one of you. Insignificant Muggle who so happened to get in the way and fight like a common street-brawler. You see the advantage? She never even bothered to factor me in. Ugh, Sherlock is right... Villains are getting less original by the day." he quipped sarcastically, waiting for Severus to shield him in case he stepped into something nasty. "Geez, your world has some first-rate wankers..." She was in the middle of a spittle-laced sentence when she spotted all of the wands pointed at her.
"You're both fools to think that someone would bother saving your worthless-" Severus lifted the Silence spell off of Sherlock. The consulting detective laughed so hard he bent double as he wheezed to their Healer, "Oh, John, she's repeated herself at least three dozen times. Ah! Let me see. You are boring, unoriginal and I think you could use a little work, to be honest. I heard you were meaner to the students of your boarding school... Poor souls can't stop laughing."
He let Sherlock do his work. "You've had issues with your Mother since the day she walked out the front door of your cottage. Probably couldn't stand the sight of you, to be honest. Dear old Daddy left soon after. Oh and sucking your precious former Minister's cock isn't going to help with your looks. Your mind is twisted up so badly I don't even think John could Heal you. Mental defenses are always present in a healthy mind and I haven't encountered a single one. That alone means you should be seeing someone. What if you spilled-Oh, wait. You already have. As for why you want our lightning bolt? You're jealous. It's not about sex, or even a mild obsession. It's power and isn't that the most unimaginative thing I have ever come across. Please, come back with a brain and you might even be useful." She gibbered unintelligently for several moments before launching herself at Sherlock.
John caught her in a python grip, slowly choking the air from her with a ferocious snarl. "You will never again touch what is mine. Listen up and listen good; I will go against my sworn oath as a Healer if you so much as think about them within my presence. Have we an understanding?" Sherlock snickered as she passed out, her body doing the unthinkable and voiding itself. Severus gave Harry a satisfied smirk. His husband stirred where he was, blinking open soft green eyes.
It was blissfully silent from then on as if karma had decided to take a break from tormenting them. (Lies of course, especially when your husband is Harry Potter, but Severus couldn't be arsed to care.) The rest of Harry's Heat passed without incident. Sherlock went back to solving cases. John resumed his work at the clinic. Yet there was a subtle and most welcome difference. The walls between 221 A and B were knocked down, clearing a space for all four of them to live. Routines were only minutely changed. Peace finally reigned on that most curious of flats; namely those of Baker Street in London, England.
Ending A/N: I honestly don't know what to think of this... On one hand, I love this new style that wants to assert itself. On the other? I don't think I've done this any justice. Really, I mean that. I apologize if the characters seem way too OOC. I'm going with what the Muses came up with... As always, folks, please review! This will remain a gigantic one-shot. I doubt you'll get another quite like it from me. Maybe an omake or a snippet series of the stuff I wanted to put in here but didn't feel like it at the time. I hope you're happy with the plunny you spawned, leobutler! It stole my Muses and held them hostage (with a nodachi that happened to be seven feet in length; sound familiar?) until I finished this... Oh, PM me if you have more questions or want to use something from here. I don't mind sharing as long as I get credit. Does anyone know a really good artist who would be willing to draw fan-art for this? I would attempt this save for the fact that I'm not that good at drawing characters I love; true story. Hmm, maybe ile-o from Deviantart if I ask nicely? Meh. Thanks for reading and I hope you had as much fun reading this as much as I had fun writing it.
**website- There is an existing website called the Science of Deduction. It's a functioning connector site to the series. Go check it out along with John Watson's Blog!
*Talent- an ability to manifest magic beyond the age of eleven that focuses on a specific area of Magic. Rare Talents develop during mid-to late thirties, these being more powerful than latent Talent or more common Talents such as Persuasion, Legimens and Telekinesis. The rarest of said Talents can do the most delicate or subtle of treatments in their specific field.
Harry- has yet to receive his Talent as he is not of age; possible Talents are Seeker (does not have anything to do with Quidditch), Pulse, Siren
Severus- Master Legimens and Occlumens, Levitation, Plant Empathy
Sherlock- Localis Domine, Seer, high form of Persuasion
John- Healing (most aspects; see above explanation), Empathy, Animal Empathy
Kingsley- high form of Persuasion, Charisma, Faith
Mycroft- Localis Domine, Control, Discression