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

Chapter 2: The ephemeral bliss

"It's a thesis from years ago, for a specialist publisher - it's not for the general public,"

"I also saw 'Runic influence in modern language: Futhorc as a case example.' Some Cambridge professors said it was 'eye-opening'"

"Unless linguistics is your area, I think it would be quite dull," lied Hermione. "Maybe I should try fiction, that probably brings in more money."

Hermione finished putting the last cup away in the kitchen cupboard, then draped her blanket over the back of the couch. Two boxes - bathroom and bedroom - were lined up near the door, with several bags scattered in between. As she started to lug one of the heavier bags towards the bedroom, John rose from his seat on his armchair where he had been reading one of her magazines and announced he was going out to buy dinner. Hermione felt a jolt of apprehension as she imagined him dealing with the reality that she would soon be living in the same space Sherlock had occupied.

She paused for a moment in front of her new room. The handle looked polished, so someone - probably Mrs Hudson - had come in recently. Not knowing what to expect, she took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

The scene left her speechless.

Everything in the room had remained untouched, an undisturbed picture of a moment in time. The robe was strewn across the unmade bed. The wardrobe was open, displaying a perfect row of navy blue and black suits. A pair of shoes had been left on the side of the room. The window had recently been opened, probably that very day, because the room still had the smell of dampness from being closed for so long. The only clean place was the dresser by the door, where Mrs Hudson had left fresh sheets. She stood there for a few minutes, looking at a dead man's belongings, trying to understand why they were there. Why no one, neither Mycroft nor his parents, had claimed them.

John will be back in around an hour, she thought. Better get to work.

After bringing all her things inside, Hermione decided to deal with the bed first. As she removed the old sheets and started making the bed again, she could see the difference in quality. The ones Mrs Hudson had given her were far from cheap but were nothing compared to the Egyptian cotton of Sherlock's sheets. Then, she emptied one of her suitcases on the bed and left it open on the floor. She put the bedding in it and then started with the clothes. Expensive suit after expensive suit, Hermione cleaned out the wardrobe and continued with the drawers near the bed: from T-shirts with exorbitant price tags still on to perfectly folded ties, handkerchiefs, socks. When she was going through the underwear drawer, a pair of black boxers became wedged at the bottom. She yanked them out, fumbling her hand around until she felt a gap between the drawer and the bottom.

Intrigued, Hermione pulled out the drawer and studied it. The size of the hole was too large to be a manufacturing error, and the depth from the inside seemed to be different than on the outside. She spotted a letter opener next to a pile of papers near the bed and used it to lift up the wooden panel.

Stashed underneath were roughly 20 photos, all well-preserved and dated. Some were of Mr and Mrs Holmes in front of a country house, while others showed Mycroft with a baby Sherlock or John with Mrs Hudson. What must it be like to live in such a way that even harmless pictures can be considered a liability? Again, she thought about Mycroft. Would he have a similar secret place where he tucked away the memories he held dear?

The sound of the main door opening startled her. Her heart raced as if she'd been caught doing something forbidden by seeing those photos Sherlock had tried so hard to hide. Quickly putting everything back in its place, hastily left the room before John got into the kitchen; feeling like she was staying in a space shared with a ghost.