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

Chapter 17: His Last Vow Act III, Denouement.

Hermione drew her woollen jacket tighter around her frame and rubbed her arms, trying to stay warm, leaning back even further in Sherlock's black armchair. She closed her eyes. There was a wariness, a tension that had seeped into her body during the past months and she couldn't shake, no matter how much she slept. On the table was the tea she had made when she had arrived, already cold. Mrs Hudson had gone away a few days ago to spend the holidays with her sister, and neither John nor Sherlock had bothered to light the fire or turn on the heating. Hermione had not seen much of the older woman lately. When Sherlock had been admitted to the hospital the second time, John had packed an overnight bag and moved back to his old room. His excuse—which Mrs Hudson had not fully believed, Hermione thought—had been that Sherlock might need a doctor close, just in case. Hermione and Mary had dropped by every now and then, but the visits were always short-lived, as Sherlock spent all his time inside his head, and John had no interest in talking. He had assured Mrs Hudson this was a temporary arrangement. Nevertheless, the months had gone by, Sherlock had been given the medical all-clear, and John was still living there, and Hermione was still sleeping in a small twin bed at Mary's.

The front door opened, and someone rushed up the stairs, shouting Sherlock's name. Hermione stretched, her bones groaning and cracking. Moments later, John hurried into the living room, out of breath. He stared at her and noticed the mobile phone in Hermione's hand. Letting out a disbelieving snort, he tore off his jacket.

'Where's Sherlock?' asked John.

'Out,' said Hermione. 'He's managed to convince Lestrade to let him go to a crime scene.'

'He's convinced Greg?'

'I helped a little. Sherlock's mostly recovered, and it's a minor B&E. He's probably looking for this now,' she said, lifting Sherlock's phone before leaving it next to her mug.

John went into the kitchen, and from one of the shelves, pulled out a bottle of whiskey. 'Shouldn't you be packing your bags?'

'I haven't fully unpacked since I arrived at your house.'

John nodded, and without looking at her, took a long swig from his glass as he headed down the hall.

'Well, I do. If you excuse—'

'John, please.' John stopped in his tracks but did not face her. 'We can't keep like this forever.'

John swung around and walked over to her. 'What do you want me to do? Hmm?'

'Face the situation. Magnussen is not going anywhere, and Mary is never going to stop being a former assassin. What's past, it's gone. What are you going to do now?'

'What choices do I have?'

'Either you are in, or you are out,' answered Hermione. 'What have you done with it?' John sighed and went to Billy on the mantle. Lifting the skull, he took a flash drive out from under it and gave it to her.

'I haven't even opened it. I haven't had the courage to do it.'

Hermione observed the flash drive briefly. He had not read it; she believed that, but he had toyed with it for quite some time. The permanent marker had faded.

'You don't have to.'

'What if I want to know who I am married to?' His voice grew harder and louder.

Hermione took John's hand and closed his fingers around the memory drive. 'You're married to Mary Watson. To the woman you fell in love with, to the mother of your child. To my best friend.'

'She almost killed Sherlock. And for what I understood, he wouldn't be her first one.'

'She's not the only one who's killed someone,' rebated Hermione.