Pieces of a chess game [Sherlock x Harry Potter Crossover] [COMPLETE]

Chapter 13: The Sign of Three, Act II: Interlude

It was the morning of the wedding, and Baker Street was buzzing with energy.

Hermione had not woken up as much as stopped having her eyes closed, too nervous and excited to get any proper sleep. And Sherlock probably never went to his own room, as she had heard him muttering in the living room for hours, and now was pacing incessantly. Downstairs, Mrs Hudson was blasting the radio. Hermione regarded the bag dangling from the wardrobe's door, the nude high-heels resting atop their box. She was about to get out of bed when Sherlock stormed into her room, dressed in slacks and shirt under his camel dressing gown.

'Sherlock!' Despite wearing a perfectly modest tank top, she automatically drew the cover up her chest. Sherlock did not seem to be faced by it, and in two quick strides, he was next to her bed.

'I need you.'

'I could have been naked here!' Sherlock's cheeks turned a cute pinkish colour, but he grasped one of her hands and tugged her to her feet. 'Oi! What's on with you?'

'I need you for road testing,' he said while dragging her to the living room.

'What?'

Sherlock left her in the middle of the room and went to the sound system on the table. 'The song. I need to be sure it can be danced.' From the speakers came the soft melody of a violin.

'Of course it can be danced! Sherlock, the car will be here in two hours—' Hermione tried to say.

'The sooner you stop complaining, the sooner we'll get dressed,' said Sherlock, and stood in front of her. Hermione sighed and held out his hand for him. Sherlock took a step forward, and as he intertwined his finger with hers, his other hand sneaked under her arm and landed on the centre of her back. Sherlock's thumb brushed the slightly thicker seam of the top. Hermione gulped and kept her eyes on Sherlock's chest while grasping at his bicep. Sherlock started moving around the room, guiding her in a perfectly executed waltz to the tune of his own composition. With every step his dressing gown flapped against her legs, the hands holding her in place seemed to tighten, pushing her closer to him. Sherlock's thumb was now on her skin and moved over it at their dance's same tempo. Hermione raised her head and found Sherlock looking at her. The waltz mutated to something slower, more intimate. Something shifted in Sherlock's eyes and imperceptibly separated from her.

'Shut up Mrs Hudson.'

'I haven't said a word.' Hermione saw Mrs Hudson entering the living room with a tray. Sherlock sighed.

'You are formulating a question. It's physically painful watching you thinking.' He let go of Hermione and stopped the music. While Mrs Hudson poured tea, Hermione took the throw over John's chair and draped it over her shoulders. She was unsure whether Sherlock had noticed the effect he had on her, but she did not need Mrs Hudson remarking on her bra-less situation or what could be deduced because of it.

'Why are you here?' asked Sherlock.

'I'm bringing you your morning tea. You're not usually awake, so Hermione and I enjoy a bit of mindless gossip,' answered Martha. Hermione flashed her a bright sitting on the arm of Sherlock's chair, while Sherlock sat on the chair.

'You bring me tea in the morning?'

'Well, where d'you think it came from?!'

'I don't know. I thought it sort of happened.'

'Your mother has a lot to answer for,' said Mrs Hudson, and looked at both of them. 'So - it's the big day!'

'What big day?' said Sherlock.

'Stop it, Sherlock.' Hermione winked at Mrs Hudson over the rim of her cup. Sherlock glanced at her.

'Two people who currently live together are about to attend church, have a party, go on a short holiday and then carry on living together. What's so big about that?'