Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

John woke up with a start. It was another nightmare of the war. Sherlock merely thought that the war in Afghanistan was a trite muggle squabble over land. No, it was just another battle in the long lasting wizarding war for power over all life. He had seen many good witches and wizards die, or worse, lose their minds in the war. Being one of the best healers on the European continent, he had been stationed on the front lines in Afghanistan, seeing the carnage first hand. He was sent into the middle of battles removing curses, hexes and jinxes from fallen witches and wizards, and sending out his own returning fire.

The war ended for him when he got hit by a barrage of curses. His entire right leg was shattered, he was petrified, and a particularly nasty one ripped through his shoulder. He thought it was over entirely when a death eater stood over him and his whole body seized up in pain as an cruciatus curse met with his body.

This was generally when he woke up screaming, though lately it was more panting and gasping than screaming. However to continue what happened next:

A flash of red crashed into his tormentor and there were three Aurors near him. One checked his vitals, after being sure that he was still alive, the wizard grabbed firmly a hold of John and disapperated him to the nearest wizarding hospital.

A few months later, after the curses that could be removed were removed, and his leg had grown back for the most part, he heard news of he-who-must-not-be-named's death. That Harry Potter kid had actually managed to kill the most feared wizard in the world. That night John cried himself to sleep.

It was still a few months before the rest of the curses wore off. Apparently he was more of a threat than he thought. Who would have thought all of those years ago, that a pudgy first year Hufflepuff, would be a force to be reckoned with in a fight of good verses evil.

John served more time, but secluded himself to St. Mungos taking care of battle worn wizards, not wanting to go out with his current injuries. A curse had given a possible permanent limp, while a second gave him a tremor in his left hand, it made his charm work a little faulty.

After a ministry visit, John left St. Mungos and went to London. He decided that since things were still settling and his face was apparently well know amongst death eaters, he would lay low and live as a muggle. Staying with his sister was out of the question, she had managed to go into hiding with a muggle woman that she had fallen in love with. Though she divorced Clara to keep her safe, in case the death eaters came to her door. She wanted him to stay with her, but he didn't want to put her in danger, and quite frankly he didn't approve of the drinking habit she had taken up after the divorce with Clara.

It was soon after that he had come across a friend of his from Hogwarts, a fellow Hufflepuff, Mike Stamford. Being muggle born himself, he returned to his roots and married a muggle woman and took up a muggle job. After a good talking to, Mike hooked him up with Sherlock Holmes, a particularly brilliant muggle, and they got a flat together.

He was surprised about how much Sherlock had actually managed to guess about him. He was half expecting him to shout out wizard as he analyzed John.

That first night with Sherlock, was just like being back in action. He had almost pulled his wand on Mycroft, he thought that he might have been a dark wizard that had a special interest in in Sherlock. When he found out the man was Sherlock's brother, he let out a sigh of relief and his fingers stopped reflexively reaching for his wand.

Because of Sherlock's deductive skills, John didn't dare do any magic around him. Well, at least nothing audible. And he kept it simple, like for fixing up tea while he was cooking and tiding up while sherlock was away. Everything else was done in his room. Though his room was set with a complex spell, so that when opened without magic it looked like a plain, ordinary room. However when opened properly, his room was littered with parchment, spell and potions books, and a potions set that he thought Sherlock would fancy. There were times when he was tempted to show it to Sherlock. He was pretty sure that his muggle flat mate would be amazing at potions making. Its not like you needed magic to mix potions. However if he did let Sherlock at it, he would be breaking several wizarding laws.

XxXxX

He had managed to keep his secret from Sherlock for a year. Granted the only reason he did it was to save the man's life. He had almost done it sooner when Moriarty took him captive, but he had trusted that Sherlock would get them out of the mess.

This situation however was going to be unavoidable. Sherlock was currently sprawled across the ground with a gun pointed at his face. He had run ahead of John and in the time it had taken John to catch up, Sherlock had ended up in that position.

Upon seeing the scene before him, John placed a shield charm over himself, threw the door open yelling “Stupify”, and flicking his wand at the man that was looming over Sherlock. As he went ridged and his voice echoed through the warehouse and the attention of everyone was directed towards John. Their guns in tow.

Bullets were fired, but with a few graceful flicks of the wand and a silent counter spell that sent the bullets back at their owners. In fact after the initial stupify, all of his following spells were silent. He watched the mens faces contorted in fear and confusion as their weapons flew from their hands and landed at John's feet with a sense of glee.

Sherlock watched the whole scene with fascination. His eyes barely leaving John's form as he flicked his wand around like an orchestra conductor. Only glancing away momentarily to see what the wand in his hand was doing, The men around him began to drop one by one, stiff as a board, to the floor.

It was only after all of the men were dealt with that John made eye contact with Sherlock. Sherlock noticed the way John's eyes widened as if realizing what he had done, however he quickly regained his composure. He ran over to Sherlock, kneeling by his side to make sure he was alright.

“Are you alright?” John asked.

“Magic.” Sherlock muttered. It wasn't a question, it was a statement. It felt foreign on his tongue. Such an unscientific word.

“It looks like they clipped you over the head pretty good.” John said touching a wet spot on his head, pulling his hand away, and seeing red slicked on his fingers.

“You were doing magic.” Sherlock stated.

“I think you might be concussed.” John stated.

Sherlock grabbed John's hands to stop the doctor from touching him. “I'm fine John. I'm fine.” Sherlock's fingers ran over the palm of John's wand hand as if trying to find the on switch for the magic. “I know what I saw, though I don't know how.”

“I don't think-”

“Why haven't you told me before?” Sherlock asked. That question seemed to throw John off a bit, he began gaping and his eyes seemed to search for an answer. An answer that wasn't the truth. “Because you can't.” Sherlock deduced.

John gave a resigned sigh. “Against the law.”

“It's not in any law book I've read. Some sort of... sorcerers law then?”

“Wizard, actually.” John muttered.

“I see...” Sherlock muttered. “Did you kill them?”

“No. I just placed a stun on them. Though if not treated, the bullet wounds will kill them.” John stood up and looked at the men. He was certain his stun will last some time still, but he didn't want to take any risks.

“So, now that you know, would you like to see some more?” John asked with a smug grin.

“Oh god yes.” Sherlock muttered, repeating the words John had spoken to him when he invited the doctor into his world.

John helped Sherlock up and whipped out his wand out once again. He summoned the men to a central point in the building, magicked rope from the tip of his wand, and bound each of them.

Sherlock watched all of this in fascination. John never ceased to amaze him.

“Sherlock, phone Lestrade. Let him know we closed the arms ring.”

This puzzled Sherlock more than anything. John was taking the lead on a case. John used magic to help him solve a crime. John became infinitely more useful to him. He did as John said and sent Lestrade a text. He also said he wouldn't be there, that his doctor was seeing to an injury he had sustained.

“Let's go John.” Sherlock began to walk to the door.

With a flick of his wand, John removed the stun, rushed to Sherlock's side and grabbed his arm to stop him. Sherlock turned to face him and John took him into an embrace. “Do you trust me?” He asked into Sherlock's ear.

“Yes.” Sherlock said without hesitation.

“Take a deep breath and close your eyes.” He said.

After he heard Sherlock inhale he appearated back to 221B. As soon as they appeared back in their flat Sherlock began coughing and wheezing for air that had been forced from his chest from the apperation.

John held his friend, keeping him steady as he had regained his equilibrium. “Take you time, it happens to everyone their first time.”

“First... time? Oh, we've teleported.” Sherlock said, just realizing they were in the living room of their flat.

“Actually, its called apperating, but close enough.”

Both John and Sherlock's eyes widened as the voice belonged to neither of them. John closed his eyes willing it not to be Mycroft. However when he opened them back up, Mycroft was sitting in his arm chair staring at the two of them. John stared back like a deer in headlights.

“For once I'm actually not here to see you Sherlock. Tonight is all about John Watson.”

John reflexively tightened his grip on his wand and his grip on Sherlock's arm. “Are you with the Ministry?” He wouldn't put it past Mycroft to secretly hold a position in the ministry. If he was here to arrest him for using magic in front of a muggle, he was ready to put up a fight.

“Heaven's no. I haven't a magical bone in my body. You'll find Sherlock doesn't as well. I am however a muggle Ministry liaison for the Ministry of Magic.

“And to what do I owe this pleasure?” John ground out.

“Relax John, you're not going to Azkaban. From what I am aware of your past service, I don't think they would find a single wizard willing to lock you away for something like this.”

“Then why are you here?”

“To inform you that I am going to have to register Sherlock.”

“Register me for what?” Sherlock asked. He hated not knowing what was going on. There were new words that needed defining.

“It's part of a new muggle registration. No John, it's not what you are thinking. What with the war and all of the muggles caught in the cross fire. It's so they will know not to wipe his memory if magic is done in front of him. It would be a pity if they messed up and scrambled Sherlock's brain.”

“A muggle is a person not born with magic.” John explained, seeing the frustration in sherlock's face. “Is that all Mycroft?”

“I thought you'd be excited to be able to legally use magic in front of my brother. God knows you've had to hold back around him.”

“Yes, I suppose that is a relief. Though I can't believe you'd willing to submit your brothers name to a list of muggles during the fall out of a wizarding war to take dominion over you kind.”

“If it sets your mind at ease, my name is on the list as well.”

“It doesn't.” John snapped. “And why haven't you told him before now?”

“I wouldn't have believed him.” Sherlock answered. “If I hadn't witnessed it first hand I would have just thought Mycroft was full of bullocks.”

“And why didn't you tell me?” John asked accepting Sherlock's answer.

“I didn't want to give away my position in the Ministry.”

“You should have. I almost attacked you that first night I met you.”

“I know. Thinking back on it I could have been more delicate about the whole matter. But honestly where would I have hidden a wand? My umbrella?”

“I was on the front lines of the war. You'd be surprised by all the ways I've seen wizards hide wands.”

“I see. There was another point in that meeting though. I wanted to make sure you couldn't be bought. I didn't care that you had fought for the good guys, if you would have sold out Sherlock, I would have done everything in my power to get you sent to Azkaban.”

John's eyes narrowed. “I would like you to know that if you ever threatened to send me there again, I assure you that they'd never find your body.”

Sherlock was taken back by the tone in John's voice. Glancing at Mycroft, Sherlock saw that his brother was as shocked as he was.

“You stupid muggle. If you ever came across a dementor, you'd never make that threat to a wizard. Your kind are lucky that you can't see what they look like. You're lucky that you've never had to be trapped in the same room with one for weeks on end while they sucked all of the joy and happiness out of you. That's one of the ways that the death eaters played with wizards on our side. And that's just what they did to the pure bloods.”

John felt a pressure in his hand that brought him back and grounded him. He looked down and saw Sherlock's hand in his, his fingers twining around his own giving him a squeeze to try to comfort him. While Sherlock didn't know what John was talking about or what it is that he went through, he did know it was related to the war. It was written all over his face, there was a war. It just wasn't the sort he was used to.

“I think it's time for you to leave now Mycroft.” Sherlock said. “Run along and register me or what ever it is you need to do. Just don't be here.”

After Mycroft left, Sherlock looked back to John, who was smiling at him. “Thank you.”

“He was being a twat.”

“Yes. He does have a habit of acting as such.” John pursed his lips together before giving Sherlock a huge grin. “I want to show you something.”

John, still holding onto Sherlock's hand, lead him up to his room. Before entering, he tapped the door in various places, muttering an incantation, before opening the door.

When Sherlock entered the room, he couldn't believe that it was the same room. John's usually plain and tidy room looked like a fantasy novel had exploded in it. There were books, some sort of a chemistry set that required a cauldron, parchment and quills littered his desk, there where things in jars that rivaled anything Sherlock brought home from the morgue.

“Not everything in here is for use of magical personnel only.” John whispered from behind Sherlock, into his ear. “I've always wondered if a muggle could brew a proper potion. It would be quite the experiment don't you think?”

The breath seemed to catch in Sherlock's chest as John said it. “When?”

John chuckled. “Not tonight. I need to pick out a few potions to start you out on, and pick up the appropriate supplies.”

“Where does one pick up supplies to make potions.” Sherlock mused.

“I'll show you tomorrow.”

Sherlock's eyes flickered around the room and John knew that Sherlock was eager to learn more. He was quick to inform his muggle friend that all of his books were open to him, though he'd get little use out of anything with spells and incantations.

It was at this time that John was glad that he kept all of his old school books. He had set in front of him the books for the first four years worth of potions classes, eager to find something to start Sherlock on. As he decided on potions, he wrote down what ingredients he was going to need to make the potions.

Lounging on John's bed, was Sherlock, who was nose deep in one of his herbology books. He would make comments and exclamations about some of the plants. He would get particularly excitable when he read of new poisons and remedy's for poisons that were made from magical plants. He was even more excited when he realized that John had a few of the plants used to make the remedy's were growing in pots in John's room.

John had texted his sister Harry about borrowing her owl, Morgana, for a bit. He also sent her a message telling her that she should try and patch things up with Clara now that the war is over. It was about a hour later when the owl arrived, pecking at John's window.

“John, there's an owl at your window.” Sherlock announced.

“That was fast. Could you let it in?” John said as he continued quilling a note. Sherlock hesitantly did as John asked and the owl flew in and perched on the side of John's desk. John pet the owl and gave it a bit of one of his biscuits. Once he was finished with the letters that he had written up, he gave the owl the other half of the biscuit and sent it off with the letters.

“Brilliant.” Sherlock commented. “An owl postal service.”

“She's Harry's. I asked her to loan it to me for a while. I needed to send my order ahead of time. I'm going to need a lot of supplies.”

This perked Sherlock's attention. “Oh. You've got a lesson plan for me professor?” he teased.

“Yes, ah... er, please don't call me professor.” John mumbled as his cheeks tinged pink.

Sherlock laughed and John followed suit. He sat by Sherlock on the bed, clearing off a spot so he could eventually lay down. “You know, I think I'm brilliant.”

Sherlock raised his brow at this comment. “How so?”

“I think I've finally found a way to keep you from being bored in between cases.” John said laying down and pulling his blanket around him.

John eventually fell asleep with Sherlock sitting at the foot of his bed, reading.

Sometime in the middle of the night, Sherlock also fell asleep curled next to John, to lazy to get up and shuffle himself to his own room.

Chapter Text

John kicked and screamed as his captors took him back to his cell. He had been there for two months, under the watchful eyes of both Death Eaters and Dementors in the remains of Azkaban. The only time he was given reprive from the unrelenting sorrow that the Dementors weighed on him was when he was being tortured by the Death Eaters for information in a room with a half a dozen patronuses flying around.

As soon as he was alone, he could feel his happiness draining away. The familiar weigh of endless sorrow resting over him. The only reason he was alive was because they had gotten someone to spill that he was helping members of the Order of the Pheonix by feeding them information and supplying them with help when needed. They wanted to know what John knew, so they brought him here. He had come close to spilling once, but he managed to find a glimmer of hope and hold onto it.

Albus Dumbledor who had always been a mentor to him and was the same man who had inducted him into the Order in secret, this man had put the fate of the wizarding world in the hands of a teenage boy. He had to hold onto Dumbledor's belief that the boy would defeat Voldemort for good.

Confusion washed over john as the powerful sorrow the dementors emitted began to recede. Had the Death Eaters returned for him? No. This was different. There was warmth. John looked up and saw a bright form made of light in front of him. He couldn't make out what it was supposed to be. It leaned over him and he could hear a voice.

“John. John, wake up.”

John's eyes flashed open and the form of light was gone, instead he was in a darkened room and a dark figure looming over him with a hand on his shoulder. On instinct, John grabbed the arm and in a quick movement he had the figure pinned to the ground and glanced around for a weapon.

“John!” A familiar voice panted out from below him. “John you're awake now.”

The realization of what was happening suddenly hit John with the force of a truck. He wasn't in Azkaban, he was in 221B. He wasn't assaulting an enemy, he was assaulting Sherlock. He shot off of his prone friend as if he were made of molten steel.

“Oh god Sherlock, I'm so sorry.” John rubbed his face with a trembling hand. “Are you alright.”

Sherlock stood up, stretching the arm that John had pinned behind his back. “I'll be fine John. Will you?”

John just stared at his friend. Sherlock was looking at him with one of those stares that could see through any facade. It was as if he were trying to read his mind, look through John's memories to find out what made John react so violently to him.

“I'll be fine. It's just-”

“Whatever happened to you in the war.” Sherlock finished. “What did happen?”

“I-I don't feel comfortable talking about it.” John said meekly as he absentmindedly rubbed his forearm. “I think I'll go make tea now.”

“Now? It's five in the morning.”

“I can never fall asleep once I've woken up from one of my nightmares.”

“I've never seen you up this early.”

“I'm never woken up.”

As John leaves the room he is sure that Sherlock has analyzed every wrinkle in his brow, the terror behind his eyes, the weariness in his voice, and his eagerness not to talk about what he had dreamed. It was true that he head never awakened so early into one of his nightmares, and they usually got a lot worse. Of all his memories of the war, his time in Azkaban was the most terrifying. No. That wasn't true, there was one thing that was even more so, and he willed himself not to think of it.

“John, sit down.” Sherlock's voice came from behind him. “If you say on your feet any longer you're going to collapse.”

Sherlock was right, his hands were shaking worse than usual and the room seemed to be trying to heave him forward. He felt Sherlock's hands on his arm guiding him to the couch, and John reluctantly followed his direction and sat down.

“I'll make your tea. You need to recover from that dream.”

“You're going to make tea?” John asked skeptically.

“You certainly won't be able to in that state.” Sherlock huffed and walked into the kitchen.

After some time, Sherlock returned with two mugs of tea and they quietly drank them dry. It took about a minute for John to realize that something was off. He glanced at Sherlock who was watching him as if he were waiting for something to happen.

“Sherlock, what did you put in the tea?”

“Before you become unreasonably angry with me John, I did it for your well being.”

“My well being? You drugged me!” John could hear the slur in his voice and he was already having trouble focusing on Sherlock.

“It's hardly dangerous John. I crafted it with the utmost care.”

“You.. crafted... Sherlock! What have I told you about... about...”

“It's a sleeping tonic John. I've noticed you hadn't been sleeping well so I thought this would help. I'm quite positive I've worked out all of the kinks in it.”

John was past the point of arguing. He was already slumping forward on the couch. He was barely aware of Sherlock properly lying him down and throwing a blanket on him.

XXX

John woke up to Sherlock playing the violin across the room from him. John grumbled and sat up. He instantly regretted it. It felt like a construction crew was pounding in his head.

“Good lord.” John mumbled. “Would you stop that noise Sherlock.”

“My violin is not noise.” Sherlock retorted.

“Right now it is. My head is killing me.” John began massaging his temples, and when he looked up again Sherlock was standing over him with two white wills and a glass of water.

“It seems my tonic still needs work done to it.”

John's eyes widened in surprise. “You drugged me?”

“We went over this last night.” Sherlock said with in his usual tone when a conversation began to get boring. “You needed to sleep.”

John just rolled his eyes and took the painkillers that Sherlock had handed him. Last night was a bit of a blur after he woke up from that nightmare. He vaguely remembered attacking Sherlock and having tea with him. It wasn't like this was the first time that Sherlock had used him as a test subject and he was certain it wouldn't be the last.

“What time is it?” John asked as he made his way into the kitchen and began to prepare a small breakfast.

“Ten thirty.” Sherlock shouted from the other room as he began playing his violin again.

“After breakfast I was thinking we could go to Diagon Alley.”

Sherlock stopped playing his violin at this. “Where is this Diagon Alley?”

“It's here in London.” John said looking up from what he was doing.

“It can't be in London, I've memorized all of the streets, there's no such place.”

“You get to it through magic. I'll explain it when we get to the Leaky Cauldron.” John said busying himself with spreading jam on toast. John could tell that Sherlock was going to comment on the fact that the Leaky Cauldron wasn't a 'real' place. “It appears to be an abandoned building, but it's not. It is enchanted to make muggles think nothing of it.”

Chapter Text

After breakfast, John led Sherlock through the streets of London until they came across what appeared to be an a grubby old pub. “Here we are.” John stated as he headed into the building.

As soon as they entered, the pair of them were eyed by an old woman dressed in bizarre robes and a sharp pointed hat who was sitting at the bar. John didn't pay her any mind, he just swept past her and began making his way to the back. However before he made it past the bar he was stopped by the bartender. “By my soul. John Watson, is that really you?”

“Hello Tom.” John said cheerfully.

“Where have you been? No one's heard from you in years and I hear this morning from Nicholas Mulpepper that you sent him a list of ingredients to be picked up today.”

“Ah, yes, well... I guess you can say that I've finally decided to come out of hiding.”

“I see, and who is your friend there.” Tom asked. “I can't say that I recognize him.”

John turned to see Sherlock's attention was focused on the cleaning lady who was levitating chairs while her broom magically swept under the table.

“That is my flatmate Sherlock Holmes.”

“You mean the muggle detective?”

“You've heard of him?”

“It's hard not to hear things as a bartender. Has he been registered with the Ministry yet?”

“Unfortunately. How did they manage to get that law to pass? You would think there would be quite a large opposition to it.”

“There was at first, but the Ministry spun it so it was protecting the muggles listed.”

“As much as I'd like to trust the Ministry, I just can't after they were compromised during the war.”

“Many people feel that way.” Tom looked at the bar and noticed the old witch at the bar signaling for him. “I'll let you get back to your business. It's good to see you again John.”

After Tom walked away, John got Sherlock's attention and had him follow him to the back room. They stopped in front of a brick wall and John pulled out his wand. He hesitated for a moment, counting bricks Sherlock deduced, and then tapped one of the bricks three times with his wand. John stepped back and Sherlock watched in awe as the wall began to fold in on itself until the two of them were standing in front of an archway that opened to a cobblestone street that twisted and turned out of sight.

“Welcome to Diagon Alley.” John grinned as he stepped through the arch. Sherlock followed, glancing back to see the wall closing back up.

As they turned the corner Sherlock's scenses were overloaded with new sights. There were wizards of of all ages, genders, and races bustling around the different shops. There was a witch and her young daughter with a cauldron full of books, one of the titles he caught was Magical Drafts and Potions, which he recognized as one of the books John was skimming through. There were stores with cauldrons stacked in front, one with a broom called 'Magic Missile' being displayed in a storefront window, and one with an assortment of animals, including a large variety of owls. As they passed an ice cream parlor Sherlock noticed one of the children eating a sundae that was covered in flames. The flames made him curious, we was going to have to have John bring him by here later to see if they burned hot. Then something struck him. “Where are we going John?”

“We need to stop by Gringotts to get some money.”

“What's wrong with the money in your pocket?” Sherlock asked, he knew that John had recently pulled money from the bank, so he should still have plenty in his wallet.

“Wizards have a different currency than muggles.” John explained. “Rather than paper money, we use gold, silver, and bronze coinage.”

“Ah, that explains the row with the chip and pin machine.” Sherlock said knowingly. “I've noticed the lack of machinery here.”

“Magic interferes with most technology.” John explained. “We have things like cameras, but even they are magical in nature and take a magical process to develop, the result is, well magical. Perhaps I'll grab a copy of The Daily Prophet and show you what I mean.” John scowled for a moment. He muttered barely audible. “Or maybe The Quibbler.” He shook his head and smiled. “Most wizards don't even know how to use a telephone, the ones that do have at least one muggle parent. And I wouldn't even try to explain the Internet to them. Oh! We're here.”

They were stopped in front of a tall white building with large bronze double doors. Standing guard was a goblin adorned in red and gold.

“What is that?” Sherlock asked rudely staring at the goblin.

“He is a goblin. Try not to be rude to them Sherlock.” They walked pass the goblin who bowed respectfully to them and passed the first set of doors. The second set were silver with a warning engraved into it;

Enter, stranger, but take heed
Of what awaits the sin of greed,
For those who take, but do not earn
Must pay most dearly in their turn.
So if you seek beneath our floors
A treasure that was never yours,
Thief, you have been warned, beware
Of finding more than treasure there.

A pair of goblins bowed them through the doors. Sherlock's eyes darted around the room. There were at least a hundred goblins in the room. Some pushing carts, others filing away scrolls of parchment, but most were sitting at a desk sorting through jewels and the coins that John had mentioned.
John approached a goblin who was jotting something down in a book of numbers. “Excuse me, I need to extract some gold from my vault.” John said holding up a gold key to the goblin.

The goblin examined the key closely. “Very well, I will have someone escort you down to the vault. Poogh!”

A second goblin appeared and led John and sherlock through a door and down a corridor to where a set mining tracks were. A mining cart soon joined them. Sherlock followed the suit of John and the goblin and climbed into the cart.

“I suggest you hold on tight, this thing only has one speed.” John said from behind him.

Sherlock was about to ask him what he meant by that, but the cart suddenly began to take off at break neck speed. The force of it sent him slamming back into John. John laughed and muttered an 'I-told-you-so' into his ear. Sherlock silently seethed. It was like riding a roller coaster. Sherlock hated roller coasters.

Luckily because of the speed it didn't take long to reach John's vault. However he did think he got a glimpse of what he was pretty sure was a dragon.

The goblin approached the vault with the key. He unlocked the door and a green smoke seeped out from the door. “What was that?” Sherlock asked.

“A defense mechanism of the vault. If the doors were to be opened without the key, then the thief would trigger the trap.”

“Then it was a dragon I saw earlier.”

“Yeah.” John said with a grin. It pleased him to no end to hear any sort of wizard talk, even if it was about goblin security.

“Find more than treasure indeed.” Sherlock muttered.

The two of them entered the vault and Sherlock was surprised to see so much money in the vault. John could barely afford his half of the rent, so obviously he expected much less. He watched John take out a silk bag and began grabbing various coins, explaining the name and monetary value of each.

Sherlock had noticed various trinkets amongst the money, obvious things like rings, a couple jewels (one that was slightly luminous), goblets, and various other things. Sherlock picked up an ornate goblet and inspected it, the rim and stem were patterned with onyx and citrine quartz, and it was engraved with a badger.

John saw what Sherlock was staring at and smiled fondly at it. “That was a gift from my parents after I was sorted into Hufflepuff. Er... it's a house at Hogwarts, the wizarding school I attended. My sister has a similar one, different gemstones, and a Lion instead of a Badger. The animals are a symbol of our houses Griffindor and Hufflepuff.” John sighed. “Well, I got what we came for, so lets go shopping.”

They left the vault, sherlock cursing as the cart jerked him back again, and moments later they were back in the front hall of Gringotts.

“So I figured if you're going to be coming here with me that we might as well get us some robes from Madam Malcome's. I had to ditch all of mine when I went into hiding, and I'd rather people not stare at us as weirdly as you are staring at them.” John said.

Sherlock looked around and what John said was true. Witches and Wizard would steal glances at them as if they were judging them. If John insisted, he'd play Wizard for him. “I don't have to wear anything like that would I?” Sherlock asked pointing at a wizard in a garish lavender and gold outfit.

“No.” John laughed.

“Good.”

The two of them went to the robe shop and tried on a few things, Sherlock settled on on something slim and black. John chose something more loose and canary yellow with black designs swirled over the fabric. They left the robes with Madame Malcome to be adjusted and decided to pick them up on their way back to 221B.

“It may take me some time with the apothecary. So if you would like, you can look around the other shops.” John said pulling out his coin bag and retrieving a handful of coins consisting of; 4 galleons, 9 sickles, and 12 knuts. “This should be enough to buy a few things for yourself. You do remember what the monetary value of each of them are right?”

“Of course John.” Sherlock said as he eyed the coins that were resting in his hand.

“You don't have to worry about getting any herbs or potion making equipment, I'll be doing that.” John said awkwardly. “You know it's really strange, you being this quiet.”

“I'm observing John. New sights, new smells, you can't expect me to spare the time to talk.” Sherlock said as he pocketed the coins. He'd have to get something similar to what John had so it didn't get mixed in with his 'muggle' currency.

“Right, well, I guess we can meet up in a hour at-”

“The ice cream shop.” Sherlock stated.

John was taken aback. Sherlock wanted to meet up at a place that sold food? Maybe he wanted to see if wizard food was different than muggle food. “Alright, a hour at Florean Fortescue's it is. It has been a while since I've had a cauldron ice cream cake.”

The two friends parted, John heading towards Mr. Mulpepper's Apothecary and Sherlock heading towards Flourish and Blotts.

As Sherlock entered the shop he instantly began browsing book titles, there was one on display labeled 'Standard book of Magic', and others from 'A Compendium of Common Curses and Their Counter-Actions' to 'Easy Spells to Fool Muggles' . Judging by the titles in this particular section had to do with spell casting. He glanced around the shop to see if he could find anything on wizard history or even potion making, but he was pretty sure that John had a good collection of those.

His wandering eyes must have been noticeable, because he was suddenly being addressed by a wizard in green robes. “Can I help you sir, you look lost.”

“Ah, yes, I was looking around for any sort of history books or perhaps even biographies that you may have.” Sherlock said with confidence. From what Sherlock gathered with the little information John had let slip and the expressions of a few wizards on the street, muggles were looked down on by many wizard. He doubted he had enough information to fake being a wizard, but he had enough to fool this man if he had to.

“Is there anything specific that you are searching for?”

“Actually, I would like some literature on the war. You see I went into hiding once things got too rough and only recently deemed it safe to return.”

“That would explain the muggle clothes. I was wondering. No offense to you sir, but usually when adults walk in wearing muggle clothing they are accompanied by a child ready to go off to Hogwarts.”

“None taken, I made sure Madame Malcome's was one of my first stops when I got here. My robes will be ready for me before I leave for home.”

“Good, good.” The shop attendant nodded cheerfully and began to lead him to the back of the building. “If you don't mind me asking, what is it that you did while you were under cover? You see, ever since I took Muggle Studies when I was at Hogwarts I've always been curious about them.”

Sherlock smiled at this. The tales he could tell this wizard would make his head spin if what John told him was true. He decided to indulge the boy, because honestly he couldn't be more than twenty and Sherlock did like to show off. “I worked as a consulting detective, it's a title I gave myself. When the muggle police couldn't figure out how to solve a crime, I would do it for them.”

“Wow, so like a muggle version of an Auror? Wait, were you a Auror before the war?” The boy asked, looking excited.

“No, I was never an Auror.” Sherlock stated. That would have to be another thing Sherlock needed to ask John about. “Solving problems has always been a hobby of mine.”

“That sound's really exciting. What will you do now that you're coming back out of hiding?”

“More of the same, perhaps not just with muggles though.” Sherlock said with a smile. He'd have to get John to agree to this. He wouldn't be able to solve crimes the same way he has been. He was sure it all had the same process, but he would need John for the magical aspect. “Now about that book.”

“Ah! Right! A book on the war. There were many written over the last couple of years, but if you want strait facts about the front lines of the war I'd go with Rita Skeeter. She did an interview with the-boy-who-lived himself. But if you want more on Harry Potter's personal journey to stop The Dark Lord, including a detailed account of the battle at Hogwarts, then 'The Rise and Fall of Lord V-Voldemort' by Hermione Granger would be more up your alley. She is a close friend of Harry Potter's so I found the book was better than Rita's.”

Sherlock couldn't help but notice the stutter the boy had at saying the name Voldemort. “Thank you, I think I will purchase both of these.” Sherlock said.

“Alright, um, if you need anymore help just wave me over.” The boy smiled politely and walked over to where a young witch was staring at a wall of books with a lost look.

Sherlock continued searching the shelves until he found a couple more books that he thought would be an interesting read; 'Hogwarts: A History', 'Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts', and 'Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century'.

Sherlock took the five books, checked out, and as he was about to leave the shop attendant called to him. “Hey, I didn't get your name.”

“Sherlock Holmes.” He called back before leaving the store. Why not? It's not like he planned on keeping quiet around this lot. If he could convince one wizard that he was also a wizard, he would do it to all of them with time.

Sherlock strolls down the street with his arms full of books, browsing storefronts until a loudly colored one jumps out at him. The building was bright blue with a animatronic person lifting a top hat and in large letters it read 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'.

Curious, Sherlock entered the building. All around him there were people looking through the products, some of which were zooming around overhead. He had to duck what appeared to be a frying pan that was flying at his head as he made his way to a shelf full of sweets. Somehow he didn't think they were normal sweets by the names. He picked up a box of 'Canary Creams' and began to inspect it.

“You must be new here mate.” A witch in magenta robes said beside him.

“What makes you say that?”

“You look like you don't know what you're doing.” She said eyeing the box he was holding. “I wouldn't eat that if I were you. Any of it really.”

“Why not?” He asked generally curious.

“You realize this is a joke shop right? The Canary Creams will literally turn you into a canary until the spell wears off.”

“Interesting. I take it you work here?”

“Yeah, my name's Verity. Generally I work behind the counter, but the boss wanted to train his younger brother for the job.” Sherlock looked over at the counter to see a taller redhead smacking a shorter redhead upside the head. “If you end up needing anything don't be afraid to pull me aside.” She said and began sorting things on a nearby shelf.

A wizard joke shop, how interesting. Sherlock decided that some of these objects may be useful if not amusing in the future, so he ended up grabbing a Skiving Snackbox that was on display. Looking around further he found a section labeled Defense Objects. Many of the things cost him too much with the current amount of money he had. He would have to ask John for more to purchase the Shield cloak he had his eye on, but he did grab some Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. As he browsed the store, he found a surprising amount of things that would be useful to him. He decided the two objects he selected would be enough for now.

As he proceeded to the check out, he noticed small cages with what looked like little balls of fluff. He curiously poked an electric blue one and it let out a soft hum. “Yeah, they're pretty cute huh?” Said a male voice to his right. Sherlock glanced over at him. It was the owner.

“What are they, Mr. Weasley?” Sherlock asked as he continued to poke the small ball of fluff.

“First off, it's George. Mr. Weasley is my father. And those are pygmy-puffs.” He stated proudly. “My brother and I bred them from puffskeins by slightly altering their DNA. They're the same in every way to a puffskein in every way, just smaller.”

Sherlock noticed a slight infliction when he mentioned his brother. It wasn't the younger one he had been talking to, there was too much remorse in the tone. Dead then, possibly because of the war. “What do they eat?”

George looked scandalized. Apparently not knowing what a puffskein ate was something that was strange. “Well, they'll eat anything really. So if you get one, try not to let it eat anything poisonous. I guess you've never had one as a pet before.” George grinned and took one of the pigmy-puffs out of its cage. He tossed it in the air a few times, catching it every time, it in turn squeaked. “Hey Verity, catch.”

Verity had little time to react as the pink pygmy-puff came flying at her. She did manage to catch it though. Working for George all these years conditioned her to become quick on her feet. “Not while I'm working jerk.” She said and threw the pygmy-puff back at George, who caught it and began stroking its fur.

“They're really resilient. Just don't go using them for beater practice.” He said with a laugh as he put the pygmy-puff back in it's cage.

Sherlock considered it for a moment before he decided that he would purchase the one he had been stroking. He purchased the two items and the pygmy-puff and left the store for the ice cream parlor.

John still wasn't there when he arrived, so he took a seat, setting his books and the pygmy-puff on the table, and cracked open 'Hogwarts: A History'. Everyone kept mentioning the school, he might as well start there.

Before he could get past the first page a waitress came up to him and asked him what he would like to eat. He described the desert he had seen earlier with the blue flames to her. She looked contemplative for a moment before giving him a knowing smile. “Ah, you're talking about the Dragon-Fire Sundae. Will that be all sir?”

“For now, yes.” Sherlock said and went back to his reading.

A few minutes later John had arrived about the same time Sherlock's Sundae had. The waitress asked John what he wanted, to which he replied 'A cauldron ice cream cake, please.', and took his seat across from Sherlock.

“I see you found a few things that caught your eye.” John said with an amused tone. “I that a miniature puffskein?”

Sherlock closed his book and set it on top of the others. “A pygmy-puff actually.” Sherlock said matter of factually. “I see you also found a few things.” Sherlock said eying the owl that John had set beside himself.

“I can't just keep using Harry's. Besides most of the things I purchased are for your benefit. Why a pygmy-puff?” John asked, obviously distracted by the fact that Sherlock would buy something so... cute.

“I hear they are durable, it may prove useful in my experiments. If it does, I may purchase a female and breed them for my potion testing.” Sherlock said as he experimentally poked the flames on his ice cream with his finger

John sighed. “I suppose I should dig out my care for magical creatures book.”

Sherlock took the pygmy-puff from it's cage, holding it in his left palm as he took a small scoop of the ice cream with a tiny flicker of flame. He then fed the small creature, watching it as it ate the tiny morsel. It squeaked happily as it saw what it was being offered, and as it swallowed the food it seemed to warm up as it hummed in satisfaction.

Sherlock then took a larger scoop and tried a bite himself. The flames were cool to the touch, tingled as it went down, then seemed to warm him up as it settled in his stomach.

John watched all of this unfold as his own dessert arrived. No, he didn't think he was going to regret this at all. It seemed to make Sherlock happier if not curiouser, and as long as Mrs. Hudson didn't find out and they didn't manage to blow the house up, he would be happier as well. He missed magic.

The two of them ate their deserts and Sherlock questioned him about some of the things that had come up, specifically about Aurors. John had surprised Sherlock when he said that he was an Auror, but that his healing specialization kept him out of most of the combat. He was mostly tasked with apperating in and out of the front line and taking other wizards to safety. Not to say that he didn't fling his own share of spells.

Sherlock did notice however when it came to the war, as they tarted talking about more detailed parts of the war, John would quiet up or divert the conversation to something else. This only made Sherlock more curious.

After they had finished their deserts, they grabbed their finished robes from Madame Malcome's and headed back to 221B.