[September 3rd, 2019]

CHAPTER FOUR: But Dad!

John watched as Scotland Yard shuffled begrudgingly out of the building, muttering, from what he could hear, some rather unsavoury complaints about the weirdly dressed people, who, as if receiving a wordless command, had begun to disband and survey the building. He continued to stand stationary, feeling an increasing level of awkwardness every time a member of the Yard trudges sulkily out of the door, beginning to feel as though he was considered a part of this insanity, and to them, maybe his friendship with a seemingly un-befriend-able man, meant he was.

Dragging his eyes away from the exit, John once again, re-focused on the peculiar combination that was apparently Sherlock's family. The man who had introduced himself as Sherlock's father, Harry, he reminded himself, stood slightly in front of the three men and stood in a military-esque stance that John was familiar with. Slightly to the right stood James, who was wearing a similar uniform to his father (well, John had assumed it was a uniform as those who had accompanied them were also garbed similarly) but with less decoration on his, what John could only describe, as a robe. The younger man's eyes were fixed upon the back of Harry's head as he attempted to mimic his elder's stance, awaiting further instructions.

"James?", Harry spoke, natural authority spilled from his lips, "follow the beta squad and ensure that they are not destroying the crime scene like a herd of hippogriffs, if I wanted that, I would have asked Hagrid to borrow Witherwings."

"Yes, dad." James then turned on his heel, the combat boot he wore let at an irritated eeeek in protest against the uncarpeted floor, and with is chin held high marched from the room.

"Albus, stay where you are." Harry said firmly. John looked to where Sherlock was skulking off behind his father, he had frozen with one foot on the first step and his opposing hand on the railing. His shoulders rose and then fell in a sigh as he turned and walked back towards his father. John blinked slowly in surprise -Sherlock had actually listened to a person of authority, and then done what they asked! Sherlock came to stand where his brother had been prior and John couldn't help but to notice that he stood several inches taller than his father and was mumbling under his breath,

"…you always do that…"

Then, Sherlock stood quietly next to his father with a disgruntled look plastered across his face, his arms crossed childishly. Harry looked to his left, where Mycroft (was that even his real name?) stood texting on his phone -John was still attempting to wrap his head around the fact the tall, not quite skinny man with blue hair and a different facial structure to the man that he knew. As if sensing that his godfather was looking at him, he looked up from his phone, meeting his eyes.

"You can leave now Teddy," apparently Mycroft wasn't his real name, "I know your job keeps you busy -Merlin, maybe it was Hermione you spent too much time with as a child."

Mycroft, John felt uncomfortable referring to him as Teddy, smirked and moved indulgingly into a hug from Harry, "Maybe," he hummed as he moved back, "but, as you said, I must be off, there are, matters, I must attend." With that he began to walk towards the exit to the unmarked car that John could see waiting for him outside.

"And don't forget to call your grandmother!" Mycroft waved his hand distractedly above his head and disappeared from sight.

"Honestly, for the amount of time he spends on that phone, you think he'd remember to call Andromeda." He looked at John as he said this, as though he were searching for his exasperation to be shared. John shuffled on the spot, feeling as though he had to provide a response, but remained unknowing as to how he was expected to respond, so he just shrugged, hoping that it would satisfy those intense green eyes that stared at him, eyes that mirrored his friend's.

Sherlock remained stood to the right of his father, his look of disgruntlement unwavering as he stared slightly down at the older man. Although, John couldn't help but to note the faint look of admiration that was gleaming in Sherlock's eye, a look that he usually reserved only for the most evasive of criminals.

Harry inhaled deeply and turned towards his son, if he hadn't just looked directly at him, John would have felt as though, and to an extent he still did, that he should have left with Scotland Yard.

"I'm going to go check on James and my underlings," the bespectacled man paused momentarily, appearing to think about what he was going to say next, "I know that you will be looking forward to investigating this case, however," -the emphasis he placed on this word was accompanied by a stern look –"you must allow me to cross the tees and dot the eyes; you cannot run me about like you do the muggle police force, and I will not treat you like one of my aurors; I am in charge here Albus -I will deny you all access if necessary, if you withhold information. Most importantly, whilst I go and disband any unnecessary personnel, you will explain everything. Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?"

Sherlock shot an alarmed look at John, "But dad-"

"You know that I don't like to repeat myself Sherlock, do you understand?" And from the coolness of Harry's voice, John received the impression that the man staring up a Sherlock was not the type of person who raised their voice at their children, but the type of parent who made their child feel as though they had disappointed them. And John was convinced that that type of emotional manipulation would have no affect on Sherlock, a man who didn't seem to think anybody's approval.

But then, to John's bewilderment, Sherlock responded, "Understood." Then, as his father left the room, he turned to John, grimacing, "So, I believe that you have questions."

And then, staring at the face which had once again return to an expression of neutrality, John felt his seemingly everlasting confusion transform into annoyance and that annoyance evolved into acute anger. "Yes." He responded firmly. "You better bloody-well bet that I have questions."

When he entered the room that held the body, James had to walk-out for a moment before re-entering. Ugh, he always hated the more gruesome murders, they always made his stomach roll and his head feel slightly light. He much preferred, as bad as it may sound to some, living, victims, he was good with people, he knew how to make them relax and talk to him. Corpses didn't talk.

James would never understand how his father and younger brother could stomach these crime scenes, well, he tells a lie, his father he could understand, but Albus had always been an odd little mystery to him. But that was a topic for another time.

Pulling a woollen glove from his pocket, thank you Grandma Weasley, he pinched his nose with it in a desperate attempt to block out the stench of rotting flesh and congealing blood. It wasn't very effective, he had already been struck by the smell when he walked in, one so foul that it lodged itself in the back of his throat, he could taste it. Ugh, he hated investigating murders. Approaching the victim who had been strung like a macabre piece of artwork, James felt his stomach flop again, he winced and turned away from it, instead choosing to observe his colleagues and stopping them from doing anything that he knew his dad wouldn't like.

He stood in the corner furthest away from the body, attempting to ignore it from the corner of his eye – he'd go over the case notes later. However, his position allowed him to witness his dad enter the room and take charge, getting rid of unnecessary aurors and examining the body, unaffected by the smell and grotesque visage laid out before him, all while taking notes in a small pocket notebook.

After he finished, he approached James, and stood in silence next to him, watching his employees work. James spoke first, "You're going to let Albus work the case, aren't you?"

"Yes." His father responded bluntly.

"He-he's technically a civilian." James stuttered.

"Yes," he repeated. "He's also well-known for solving these kind of cases -he can also be like a dog with a bone when it comes to these kinds of cases. I read John's blog. So, yes, I am allowing him to work this case with us: no complaints, James."

"But dad-"

[September 3rd, 2019]

I'M SO SORRY.

Oh my word, it's nearly been a year since I last updated, and time just slipped away from me. A lot of things happened, some good, some bad, but honestly a lot of my time was consumed by school-work and normal work. Anywho, I can't guarantee when I'll next be able to update, but I'll try to do so ASAP.

Please drop me a review!

~Basilisk.