Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Sherlock, or any of the characters therein. Nor do I make any moneys from the posting of this fanfiction.

Our journey is coming to an end, my friends. Enjoy.

Epilogue

April

John, Mary, and Rachael were coming into 221 even as Mycroft was making his way out. Mycroft held the door open for them, nodding quietly to John even as Mary went ahead of him into the apartment.

"Two words of warning," Mycroft told him. "One, I've just informed Sherlock what fates have befallen Moriarty and Boot. Needless to say, he isn't happy about it."

Thinking that over he said, "Okay. And the other?"

Rolling his eyes, he said, "Hermione is being weaned off of coffee."

John's eyes went a bit wider. "For what reason?"

"I've been asked not to say, but I've been told a doctor was involved in this decision."

With a last nod to each other, John went inside of the building. Hoping Hermione was going about taking herself off the coffee the correct way, he made his way over to 221B. He didn't know what he was going to find, but what he did discover was rather odd.

Hermione was sitting at the dining table with a row of different insulated to-go cups in front of her. Mary, was smiling at her encouragingly even as she was telling her to try them at least.

Mary looked over to her husband, smiling as she informed him, "She's trying different decaffeinated coffees, as her doctor told her that her blood pressure is too high."

Hermione turned to John, saying, "My doctor could be wrong, can't he?"

"No he isn't!" came from Sherlock, who was walking past the kitchen door with Rachael. And went on to say to the child, "Your aunt is being terribly stubborn about the need to stop drinking coffee, Rachael."

Hermione buried her face into her hands, muttering, "It would serve him right if I hid his patches."

There was a pause in Sherlock's walking, but then he kept going. As it was he hid his patches just to keep them out of his brother's and John's grasps. She didn't know where they were. Because, under normal circumstances, she just wouldn't care.

"So what's this I heard about Mycroft telling you what has happened to Moriarty and Boot?" John inquired, gaining both Hermione's and Sherlock's attention.

"Terry was shipped off to Azkaban Prison for his life sentence for killing Justin Finch-Fletchley and the attempted murder of Sherlock," Hermione said, sounding low as she did so.

"What's Azkaban?" Mary was the one to inquire.

"It's the magical prison here in the U.K." Hermione told her.

"What makes it magical?" John asked her.

Hermione looked over to him, her eyes bleak. "The prison's guards used to be these things called Dementors. They have the ability to suck the happiness from you and make you relive your darkest moments. As a result, most of the prisoners are as mad as hatters even now from just the residual magic they left behind. The Dementors were also used as an ultimate form of punishment. They'd give you a kiss that sucks out your soul and makes you into a soulless husk until your body dies."

This even had Sherlock going over to where she was sitting and looked at her in horror. "I do believe that's another magical being that I could do without meeting."

Hermione scoffed, as she rebutted, "You don't want to meet a unicorn. Everyone wants to meet a unicorn!"

"Correction—every thirteen year old girl may want to meet one, but that's about it. Admit it," he told her.

She thought it over, muttering, "I wasn't one of them, but you are correct in your assessment."

"You don't want to meet a unicorn?" John asked his friend. "I would have thought you'd be the first in line to meet one."

Hermione took a drink of one of the cups, telling Sherlock, "Number two tastes like it's been filtered through a dirty sock."

"Two is out," Sherlock murmured, even as he thought that he had been sure she wasn't going to like that one even as he purchased it. Looking over to John, he said, "Unicorns are a protected species and are harmed by the touch of non-virgins. What would be the point of meeting one, if I couldn't pet it?"

"Good point," John said, but then asked, "What happened to Moriarty?"

Sherlock's face went hard at the question. Hermione got up, going over to him, and took Rachael from him. "Go on and tell him. I'll hold her as you can't seem to express yourself in this matter without grabbing something and throwing it."

"Thank you," he muttered, turning to John. "He won't tell me what prison he's in!" And true to what Hermione said, Sherlock grabbed a magazine and chucked it into the living room.

"How many times do I have to tell you," Hermione told him. "You need to throw something that shatters, makes a tremendous amount of noise and creates chaos in its destruction. Or you'll be at it all day, as there won't be any satisfaction to it."

Hermione's empty coffee mug floated over to him, making Sherlock grin. Taking it up, he threw it against the wall and shattered it.

"I can't believe that you let him do that," Mary breathed. "That was your favorite mug!" Hermione just shrugged and absently repaired it with a bit of wandless, wordless magic.

"Why won't he tell you where Moriarty is?" John asked him.

"He's in a high isolation prison," Sherlock told him. "He isn't permitted guests at all and is in isolation twenty-three hours a day." He went into deep thought. "There's not many prisons of that sort in the world."

"More than you think," came from both Hermione and Mary at the same time.

Both of the women smiled, even as Mary took her daughter back. Going back to the taste test, Hermione opened the lid to the third to-go cup to do the visual inspection and frowned at the look of it. Pulling out her wand, she tapped the brim. A read out was printed over it, calling all of the other's attention to it.

Now glaring, she muttered, "Nox!" She looked over to Sherlock. "Whomever made this coffee for you spat in it."

John took that cup away, dumping it out into the sink.

"But that wasn't why you didn't drink it," Sherlock said.

"Solvents were used as a means of decaffeination," she told him. "I don't care what they say those are by no way natural." She looked to Mary. "This is going to take forever the way I'm going."

"Just keep trying," Mary attempted to bolster her spirits. "You'll find one that you like, I'm sure."

"Why won't he tell you where Moriarty is?" John asked Sherlock.

"Chances are that he shipped him out of the country," he muttered. "But where?"

"I love number four!" Hermione crowed.

"Of course you do," Sherlock muttered. "That has twenty percent caffeine."

Hermione leapt to her feet, going over to him. "Please! Please! Sherlock, think of it as a first step towards a full decaffeinated state. Think of it as my patch, if you must."

"Very well, but if your blood pressure isn't made any better…"

"I'll go completely off of it," she told him. "I promise."

"Very well, but you heard what the healer said," Sherlock said. "Even it being decaffeinated, you can only have five cups a day." His eyes narrowed on her, as he added, "And no getting an oversized mug."

"Damn," she hissed, walking away to the kitchen to take up the fourth to-go cup to sip on the coffee.

"So why the trip to the healer's?" John asked them.

"I wasn't feeling right," Hermione said. "I attributed it to the case we had just finished that had me throwing up all the time and Sherlock said it was because I'm pregnant."

John and Mary looked at them both expectantly.

"Well?!" Mary pressed.

Hermione and Sherlock looked to each other, slow grins crossing their faces.

"Really, John? When have you ever known Sherlock to be wrong?" Hermione asked him.

Mary and John went straight over to Hermione, hugging her even as Sherlock told Rachael that she would be getting a new cousin before too long.

John went over to Sherlock, inquiring, "Are you happy about this?"

He nodded slowly to this, handing over Rachael to her father. "More than I thought possible." He looked over to his wife, who was questioning Mary about pregnancy. "Marriage wasn't what I thought it would be."

Laughing, John told him, "It never is."

Across the sea, in an infamous Cuban prison, Jim Moriarty was in his isolated cell. Waiting and planning for the day he would be free.

The End!

And there we are. Our voyage is over. Thank you ever so much for all the support, reviews, and follows/favorites. You guys are awesome squared! Take care and until we meet again—Shanti (Hindi).