Disclaimer—I do not own Harry Potter, the television show Sherlock or any of the characters therein from either realm. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.

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Epilogue

A week later, now well fed as well as rested, Sherlock was now bored once again. Which was more than likely the reason why he was going down to see Hermione at eight in the morning, an hour before her usual wake up time.

He got as far as the stairs when he heard it. She was on the phone, having an argument.

"No, he bloody well can't have his own way in this. And if he thought twice, he'd know it was too late anyway." She paused and let out an exasperated breath. "No!"

He walked into the flat and she nodded towards him in greeting, as she kept pacing while she listened to what the person on the other end of the line was saying.

"Well, you just have to get someone else to do it." She listened again. "It's too late for that as well! Dammit, Severus, you need to put your foot down with him. Get him to see reason." She listened again. "I don't care. Make him see it! Goodbye!" She punched the end on the touch screen, muttering, "What I wouldn't give to slam a receiver down right now." And then said in a lower voice, "Right down his bloody throat."

"You work for my brother?" he asked.

"Yes and no," she told him. "Not in the fashion you may think."

He thought that over. "Independent contractor?"

"Yes," she answered, turning to face him. "He wants to pull me out now. His reasons are his own and he's not one to tell someone he sees as lowly as myself his reasons why. Seeing as he only thinks of us all as goldfish, I'm lucky to have him tell me just as much as he does." Her amber eyes studied him for a time. "Do you hate me now?"

He thought that over. "Did you set out to be my friend as a ruse to get and keep close to me in order to do your work you had been assigned by my brother?"

"No," she murmured. "You would have seen through anything I would have done."

"Have you lied to me in the pursuit of doing this work for Mycroft?"

She shook her head no. "You've seen how well I do with lies." Moving closer to him, Hermione said to him, "You may not be aware of this, but I have it on very good authority that it is near on impossible to lie to you. And the only individual that's been able to get away with doing so was a psychopathic consulting criminal." Tilting her head in contemplation, she said, "I may be decent at times at a fib or two, but I'm not that good."

"You're not good at telling falsehoods in the least." This had her wincing.

Nodding she said, "Okay, you're correct. I'm horrid at it. I can't tell lies. It's just not in me to do it." She stopped right in front of him, saying, "I was going to pick up Diarmuid from Harry's place."

"Diarmuid?" he tested out the name. "What's it mean?"

"Without enemy," she murmured.

He nodded, saying, "I like it."

"A likeable name for a loveable dog," Hermione answered, but cleared her throat and asked, "You do realize that by not following your brother's instructions I will more than likely be fired?"

He nodded to this, saying, "I do." He studied her a moment. "Still interested in being a lowly paid intern?"

Before she knew it, she was beaming at him, saying, "That's one of the best offers I've had in a very long time."

"Great!" he said, slapping his hands together and rubbing them. "Because I think I just found a case that rates a seven!"

The end

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And there we are. We have come to the end of our story. My undying gratitude goes out to everyone who not only encouraged me to write this, but to the reviewers, the followers, and those who favorited as well. Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! This has been a wonderful journey and it wouldn't have been the same without you all here with me. And so until next time, my friends—adieu.