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

Chapter 26: The Final Problem, Part 1

'The stage is set, the curtain rises... we are ready to begin'

Sherlock and Mycroft have another sibling.

Hermione stared at the words for the hundredth time since getting the message the day before. It had given her a good distraction for the task at hand, but it had only delayed the inevitable. Hermione sighed, and with her phone in one hand and the tiny leaflet with instructions, she set the times to three minutes, left the phone on the counter and sat on the edge of the bathtub.

It wasn't far-fetched, that Mycroft Holmes had hidden a sibling from everyone. Hermione had known from the very first moment of knowing Mycroft Holmes he was a man with many secrets, and as their professional relationship progressed, she had learnt he used his power and influence to protect them. One of the things that made the eldest Holmes so lethal was exactly that: he was ruthless, in whatever scenario. He managed everyone around him with surgical precision, disclosed the bare minimum, and rarely bothered with everyday business unless required. He was the master puppeteer, which gave him and his secrets an extra layer of protection.

Hermione glanced at the phone. Two minutes.

Mycroft had a lot of secrets, but power was a lonely business and trustworthy people, rare. And Hermione had filled the place some other people could not take - Sherlock because he was too busy getting high, colleagues could be potential enemies, parents were too much or not enough. He had revealed parts of his life to her, and in exchange Hermione had told him things that wouldn't be included in her magical report. Hermione still remembered the first time she had been properly told about Sherlock's existence - although there were all kinds of rumours if you went for that sort of thing. It had been a 'danger night'. Hermione had been blissfully unaware of what it meant, and Mycroft had poured himself and her a bourbon while he explained. Then he told her about Margaret and Siger, about Rudolf's long shadow, about Sherlock and everything that came with him. Mycroft would relay no information about work to her, unless necessary. But discussing family had never been an issue between them. Months ago, Hermione would have dismissed the news as ridiculous, but recent times had her thinking otherwise. She had been pondering the message over and over again, without reaching a conclusion. Every secret Mycroft held dear had something to do with his family. It was one cornerstone of his personality, despite how much he insisted on sentiment being a handicap. If there were something he would protect with his life, it was family.

One minute.

But Sherlock was not Mycroft. Mycroft could have hidden a sibling, could have gone as far as removing any mention of them from the files. But Sherlock was not power-hungry, Sherlock had no reason to hide a sibling. And Sherlock had referred to Mycroft as his only brother on different occasions. To her mind came a little girl singing and a boy in wellies. She had thought they were a by-product of Sherlock's drugged brain, and he had appeared genuinely clueless about who they were. If the sibling existed, Sherlock must have known, Hermione decided. How could he not?

The alarm went off. Hermione took the stick in the sink and looked at the small window display. Her heart, faster with each beat, travelled to her throat, making her nauseous as the full meaning of the two pink lines sunk in.

The muffled music coming from Mrs Hudson's flat was the only thing that could be heard around the living room. Mycroft had been forced into the client's chair while John and Sherlock took their usual seats, forming a united front against him: John was the accusation and Sherlock, the judge. Mycroft closed his eyes briefly. He envied Sherlock's ignorance. As questions came, memories started to come unbridled, as they often did, and he had to make an effort for words to leave his mouth.