A/N: This is the final chapter of 221B Ravenclaw Tower.

Sherlock woke to the smell of cinnamon. St. Mungo's then. He had been to Muggle hospitals several times. They were bleak places with harsh fluorescent lights. St. Mungo's was warm, the rooms glowing with firelight. Muggle hospitals smelled like antiseptic. Wizard hospitals smelled like bakeries.

He opened his eyes into narrow slits. Molly and Sarah were sitting on either side of his head, while Mike and Lestrade sat at the end of his bed. But where was John? And then it all came flooding back. John's eyes closing, his hand going limp in Sherlock's. Sherlock bolted upright, letting out a strangled cry.

"Where's he?" He immediately regretted the action as his head began to spin.

"Easy there, Sherlock," Sarah said, gently pushing him back into the pillows. His eyes screwed shut in an attempt to stop the dizziness, Sherlock repeated, "Where's John?"

"He's down the hall," Mike replied.

"And?" Sherlock asked, afraid to verbalize the real question he wanted an answer to.

"He's going to be fine, Sherlock," Molly answered, patting his hand. Sherlock visibly relaxed, but then his eyes shot open, his gaze intense.

"Take me to him."

"They won't let us see him, mate," Lestrade said.

"He's not conscious yet," Sarah explained. "And you've just been tortured. You're in pretty sorry shape yourself."

"I don't care. Let me see him."

"No."

"Sarah. Please." Sarah's gaze softened.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock. I'll take you the second they give us the go-ahead. But for now you're staying in this bed."

"Boring."

"Don't you want to know what happened while you were in the woods?" Lestrade asked.

"I suppose," Sherlock sighed, but all four of them knew he was interested.

"After we split up, Mike and I went all over the castle looking for Flitwick. We couldn't find him anywhere. McGonagall and Sprout were nowhere to be found either. We had no idea what to do until we saw Snape coming down the hall," Molly paused for breath and Mike took up the story.

"We ran up to him, both of us talking at once. He just looked at us as if he was reading our minds, waved his wand, and sent a Patronus doe into the air.

'Come with me,' he said and we followed him out of the doors and onto the grounds. We didn't say anything until we got to Hagrid's. Snape rapped on the door, which started Fang barking like crazy.

'Evenin', Severus,' Hagrid said as he opened the door. 'What's all this about?'

'John Watson has been abducted by a former Death Eater who has infiltrated the school. Holmes has made the foolhardy decision to take her on by himself.'

'Impossible,' Hagrid said. 'Does Dumbledore know about this?'

'He's away on Ministry business. I sent him a message, but it's unlikely he'll get it in time.'

'Let me get my crossbow. You two,' he said, pointing at me and Molly, 'Stay here with Fang.'"

"And I said," Molly interrupted Mike, "there was no way we were going to stay behind. Snape was obviously annoyed, but he didn't say anything. We headed down to the Forest, Fang following close behind us. Luckily, the moon was so bright or we might have missed Greg."

"Who?"

"Me, Sherlock," Lestrade groaned before picking up the story from Molly. "I was still waiting at the forest's edge. I was getting rather antsy, as you'd been gone a while. I told them all Sarah was further inside. Hagrid and Snape took the lead. With Hagrid and Fang, finding Sarah was no problem. We were about five minutes off the path when we saw your gold sparks and then we were hightailing it after you. We got to the clearing to find you collapsed over John. Dumbledore, Mycroft, and a team of Healers apparated in as soon as we saw you."

"But you can't apparate into Hogwarts," Sherlock protested.

"You can if you're Dumbledore," Mike replied.

"Valencia said Dumbledore was in Russia," Sherlock stated.

"Apparently he was on his way back when he ran into Snape's Patronus message. He had the feeling it was a hoax, since the Russians have never asked for Ministry help before and he didn't think they would start now," Mike added. Sherlock snorted in agreement.

"And where is my brother?"

"Mrs. Hudson took him home for some rest. He's been at your side for the past two days," Molly said.

"How brotherly of him," Sherlock sniffed, though they could all tell he was secretly pleased.

There was silence for a few minutes.

"Sherlock," Molly said suddenly. "Do you think you'd like some tea?" He nodded and she proceeded to wave her wand, conjuring a full tea set with a piping hot kettle out of thin air.

Sherlock held his cup in both hands for a moment, savoring the warmth seeping into his fingers. He leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes.

His awakening seemed to improve his friends' spirits, and they began to swap stories about the past few days. Sherlock kept his eyes closed and listened. John should be here with them. He felt a pang as he thought it. Why was he taking so long to wake up? He was hardier than Sherlock. What if Valencia had damaged him somehow? Maybe he wouldn't be the same when he woke up. John could be an amnesiac or paralyzed. Sherlock was drawn out of his thoughts by Molly asking, "Does anyone know what happened to that horrible woman?"

"A team of Aurors came with the Healers," Mike replied.

"Do you think Sherlock and John will have to be at her trial?" Sarah asked worriedly.

"They practically have a whole book of charges against her," Lestrade said. "She's already been locked up. I saw it in the Prophet this morning."

"That's a relief," Sarah said.

"Yes, I would be quite happy to never see that woman again," Sherlock added, involuntarily shuddering at the memory of her sadistic smile.

Silence fell again.

"Sherlock," Molly started tentatively. "What…what did she do to you and John? You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but…" she trailed off. Sherlock looked at their faces, which managed to simultaneously express both curiosity and concern.

Sherlock took a long sip of tea and cleared his throat.

"Physical torture mostly. She's quite adept at the Cruciatus Curse. She used it on me three times. At least five on John. After that, she…she got inside of my head somehow. She can make you see your worst fears, live them out. Then, John stopped her. Told her to kill him already, leave me alone. She listened. Put John under the Imperious Curse so she could watch him kill me. His wand was in my face, but at the last second, he turned and stunned her. He overcame it somehow. Then John was dying, he said some lovely stuff about all of us, and then you know the rest," Sherlock said, addressing the last part to the ceiling.

"I hope that miserable bitch rots in her cell," Sarah spat. They all stared at her, taken aback.

"I'm serious. She doesn't deserve to ever see the light of day again."

"She's am empty person," Molly said thoughtfully.

"What're you talking about, Molls?" Lestrade asked.

"Valencia. She had nothing to live for except hate. She had no love or friendship. Hatred was the only thing that filled her, but it wasn't enough. It could never be enough."

"That's beautiful," Lestrade said as he reached for Molly's hand. Sarah slumped in her chair.

"I don't want to understand her. I just want to hate her," Sarah mumbled.

Molly started to say something in response when the door opened and Dumbledore entered the room. They all sat upright in their chairs. Dumbledore chuckled.

"At ease students. At ease. How are you feeling, Mr. Holmes?"

"Fairly awful to be honest, sir, but better."

"I am glad to hear there's been at least some improvement." Dumbledore waved his wand and pulled up a seat at the foot of Sherlock's bed.

"Your actions of several days ago were very brave. Foolhardy, but brave. Without your intervention, Mr. Watson most likely would have died. 25 points to each of your houses for your courage." Dumbledore frowned as he finished. "I am sorry that I was not here for you in your hour of need, and for that, you have my apologies. It just goes to show that even wise men may still be fooled."

"Is Olivia doing alright, sir?" Molly asked.

"She's rather shaken up, understandably, but she is relieved to be free of her mother's shadow. She should be able to return to school by the end of the week. And now, I don't mean to be rude, but I would like to speak to Mr. Holmes alone for a moment. Please don't go far."

The others shot Sherlock puzzled looks before filing out into the hall.

"Sir, am I being expelled?" Sherlock asked when his friends had closed the door behind them. Dumbledore looked amused.

"Expelled my dear boy? Whatever for?"

"Breaking school rules. Endangering the lives of my friends. Failing to alert the Ministry or professors that a vengeful Death Eater was on the grounds." Dumbledore chuckled.

"Hardly, Mr. Holmes. I am not going to expel you. I owe you for preserving the safety of the school. Expelling you would be a poor way for me to repay you for such a feat. No, Mr. Holmes, I am worried about you."

"Me? John's the one who got the worst of it."

Dumbledore looked at Sherlock over the top of his half-moon glasses.

"I know what Valencia Rookthorn is renowned for, the kind of torture she likes to inflict on her victims. She made you see terrible things, didn't she?"

An image of John's broken and bloody body hitting the ground flashed before Sherlock's eyes. The look in his eyes must have been enough of an answer, and Dumbledore continued.

"I'm no expert, but talking can help, whether it is to me, another professor, or Mr. Watson. In my experience, words have an incredible power to harm, but an even more powerful ability to heal," Dumbledore rose as he finished, crossed to the door, and opened it.

"You may all come in now. And Miss Sawyer, please bring in that wheelchair. I should have told you this right away, but I knew the second I announced it you would no longer pay any attention to what I had to say. Mr. Watson is awake. You may all go see him now."

Molly and Sarah let out relieved sighs. Lestrade and Mike clapped each other on the back. Sherlock felt as if the weight of the universe had been lifted off his shoulders.

Lestrade and Molly were helping Sherlock into the wheelchair when Dumbledore spoke up again.

"One last thing. In the absence of Mr. Watson's voice of reason, I must remind you to behave, Mr. Holmes. The Healers have made it quite clear they will send you back to your room if it seems you are overexerting yourself." Sherlock nodded, impatient to see John for himself.

The trip down the hall seemed to last ages. When they finally got to John's room, Molly held the door open and Lestrade pushed him through. John grinned up at them from his pillows.

Sherlock hadn't seen himself lately, and he was sure he looked ghastly, but John looked even worse. His face was ghost-like in its paleness. The dark circles under his eyes only made his skin look whiter. Exhaustion showed in every line of his body. It looked like the pillows were the only thing preventing him from sinking into the bed.

"You okay, Sherlock?" John asked raspily. Sherlock resisted the temptation to roll his eyes in relief. John looked worse than death, but was still worried about him. It was ridiculous.

"Yes, are you?"

"Been better." Sarah went over and gingerly kissed her boyfriend. John smiled up at her. They all joined Harry, Clara, and Dr. Watson around John's bed. Sherlock was given the place of honor by his head. They all began to talk, recounting to John what had happened while he was in the woods. When they pressed John for details about what had happened before he went into the forest, he only said, "I don't have the energy to go into it right now." They let it drop and called on Sherlock to fill in how he had solved the case.

After his part, Sherlock fell silent. He hadn't realized how truly exhausted he was until now. With the comforting lull of his friends' voices and the fire crackling in the room, he was in very real danger of falling asleep. His ears perked up, though, when Harry mentioned her watch.

"I was doing some shopping in Diagon Alley the other day. Some bloke ran into me when I had my hands full of bags. He must have nicked it from my pocket. I can't believe I didn't notice it was gone. Thanks for bringing it back, Mike."

The day wore on. Harry and Clara left first with promises to return. The rest of them stayed until a Healer came to kick them out. Sherlock dug in his heels—figuratively speaking, as he was still in the wheelchair—ready to fight to stay with John. To his surprise, the Healer waved her wand and conjured up a second bed.

"You brother said you would recover faster if we kept the two of you together, but you both need rest, so no getting rambunctious." John and Sherlock nodded solemnly. They were silent for a while after everyone had left for the night.

"So, you've got questions," John said.

"Only if you want to answer them."

John let out a long sigh through his nose.

"First off, sorry for being a complete prick in the owlery."

"You were under a lot of stress."

"Doesn't matter. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. After our fight, I went for a really long walk."

"You shouldn't have gone off alone."

"I know, I know. I calmed down a little, and then I bumped into Sarah. We made plans to meet in the library later. I rounded up some of the team, and we had an impromptu Quidditch session. We went over some formations and strategies. When I came back from a late dinner, the letter was hovering over the desk. I ripped it open and saw the watch. I didn't even think that it might be a ploy. I thought Harry was a goner, so I went after her, but I walked, just in case you came along later."

"Which was very clever."

"When I got to the woods, her daughter was waiting to lead me in. I got to the clearing. Valencia didn't even give me a chance to defend myself. My wand was out of my hand before I could make a move. She froze my feet to the ground, taunted me, laughed in my face, told me how my sister was fine, for now, how dumb I had been for believing her little trick with the watch. She told me she hated my eyes, that they reminded her of my mother's. She kept going on about how my mother had ruined her life, stolen her child, killed her family. When I told her my mother had saved Olivia from a life of unhappiness, she didn't take it well. And that's when the torture started."

John's eyes darkened.

"I don't even know how to describe it, though I guess I don't have to explain it to you. It was awful. The worst part was the feeling it was never going to end, that it was going to crush you, but you never broke even though you wanted to. I don't even know when I finally passed out."

"The fifth time."

"What?"

Sherlock cleared his throat. "You lasted five times. She told me."

"What a sick bastard, bragging about it. After that, she did something to my head. I was stuck in the middle of this living nightmare."

"Yes," Sherlock said.

"She did that to you too?"

"Yes. What did you see?" Sherlock asked tentatively.

John swallowed heavily.

"I was a Healer, but no matter what I did my patients kept dying. I was useless. Soon, I was surrounded by dead bodies. As I walked through them, I would see people I knew who were still alive. I would stop to help them, but they would die in my arms. Mike, Greg, Molly, Clara, Sarah, Harry, my dad, you. I lost all of you, and it was all my fault."

John was unconsciously gripping his sheets in his hands.

"It wasn't real, John."

"I know, but it felt like it."

Silence fell.

"Do you want to talk about what you saw?" John asked slowly. Sherlock really didn't, but he remembered Dumbledore's advice.

"It was similar to yours. I was trying to solve crimes, but I couldn't. I lost my ability to notice details and make deductions. I was ordinary. And then people started dying because I wasn't clever enough to save them. Mike, Molly, Lestrade, Sarah. They all died because I failed. Mycroft was poisoned, and I couldn't cook up an antidote. And you…you jumped off the astronomy tower. Your body landed at my feet."

"Christ, Sherlock," John said, looking at him in horror.

"It was terrible."

John was silent for a moment.

"You had a hole in your shoulder. Something had blasted clean through you. There was so much blood. I can see it when I close my eyes."

"Me too," Sherlock said quietly.

They sat, lost in their reveries.

"Thanks by the way, for coming in after me."

"You would have done the same."

"Doesn't make it any less impressive," John replied with a yawn.

"You should sleep," Sherlock stated.

"So should you," John replied.

"Well then, good night, John."

"Night, Sherlock."

Sherlock waited for a few moments until the sound of John's even breathing filled the room. He settled into his pillows and fell into a dreamless sleep.

"If you two could move a bit faster," Sherlock shouted up the stairs of the girl's dormitory, "we might be able to get to the pitch before tomorrow."

"Look who's changed his tune," Lestrade commented.

"Sherlock the Quidditch fanatic," Mike agreed.

"I'm not a fanatic. I have a slight interest in the sport. Now hurry up," Sherlock added with a shout.

"Alright, alright," Sarah said, coming down the stairs with Molly. Both were sporting excessive amounts of blue and bronze face paint. Sarah carried a sign proclaiming, "Watson's a Winner," while Molly held a banner reading, "Eagles for the Cup."

"Now that I am 100 years old, let's get moving," Sherlock said, striding out of the common room. Ravenclaw and Slytherin were facing off for the second time that year, but this time, with the Quidditch Cup on the line. Roughly three quarters of the student body was rooting for Ravenclaw to win, but the odds were against them.

John needed, no, deserved this victory. Sherlock even let Molly and Sarah draw two stripes of Ravenclaw paint beneath his eyes to show his support. As they walked down to the pitch, they passed a group of Slytherin first year girls. Most of them shot them dirty, but nervous glares. Sherlock's eyes were drawn to the blonde girl in the group who was wearing a blue and bronze pin emblazoned with an R. Olivia Marcus smiled shyly over at them.

"For John," she said, pointing at the button. Sherlock nodded at her. She had come to visit them several times at St. Mungo's. She and John had hit it off right away. Sherlock had found her tolerable enough and surprisingly intelligent, though far too kind for a Slytherin.

They finally made it into the stands, watching as both teams took to the sky.

"And it's déjà vu all over again," Lee Jordan shouted. "Slytherin and Ravenclaw will battle it out for the Quidditch Cup. Watson returns to the pitch after his near run-in with death, during which he showed great courage and tenacity, which can't be said for Slytherin's captain."

"Jordan!"

"Sorry professor. Anyway, will Ravenclaw be able to wrest the win away from Slytherin, which has been undefeated after its initial loss to the Eagles? There's the whistle. Let the match begin!"

The game moved faster than Jordan's mouth. He stumbled several times trying to keep up. The players were even more of a blur than usual, both teams playing as if their lives depended on the outcome of this game. The teams matched each other point-for-point. After both sides reached 260, the fouls became more flagrant. The Ravenclaw fans let out a groan as Eppley was penalized on a weak call, and Slytherin pulled ahead by 30 points on the foul shots and a following goal. Soon, they were up by 50 points. The green-clad Slytherins were screaming with excitement. Sarah and Lestrade were scowling, Molly was twisting her braid in her hands, and Sherlock was fidgeting. Mike, as usual, was calm and laid back.

There was a shout as John began diving. For one horrible moment, Sherlock thought his friend had lost control of his broom. But then he saw he was covering Neals. They both pulled up from the dive, Neals holding the Snitch in the air triumphantly.

Ravenclaw's supporters burst into a wall of noise. Molly and Sarah were both hugging Sherlock, but he was too busy cheering to care. John came flying into the stands, followed by the other members of the team. He fell into them with a whooping yell, grinning harder than Sherlock had ever seen. He kissed Sarah and them Molly for good measure. He pushed Lestrade away with a laugh when he offered John his cheek. John clasped Sherlock's shoulder and their eyes met. The moment was too full for words.

Their eye contact broke as they were swept away by the raucous crowd of Ravenclaws. The tide carried them into the Great Hall where it broke into thunderous applause as Dumbledore handed John the Cup. The wave of fans then conducted them to Ravenclaw Tower where the maddest party its walls had ever seen commenced. Mrs. Hudson had wisely left her frame for the night. People from every house came through the doors, bearing Honeydukes' sweets, enchanted fireworks, and several dozen bottles of firewhiskey, which Sherlock tried unsuccessfully to avoid: Lestrade spiked several of his drinks.

At 4 in the morning, Sherlock was feeling pleasantly mellow, although he sensed he would regret this party later in the day. Most of the revelers had left. The ones that had stayed were in various positions of sleep on the floor or furniture. Mike was passed out in an armchair. Lestrade had his head in Molly's lap and she was sleeping with her back to the couch. Sarah snoozed in John's arms while John absentmindedly stroked her hair.

"One more year, Sherlock," John said sleepily. "And then what will we do with our lives, without this place?"

"You'll be a successful Healer who helps me solve crimes, and I'll be the world's only consulting wizard detective."

John chuckled.

"That sounds brilliant, actually."

"Of course it does. It was my idea."

John shot him a bleary-eyed glare.

"If I wasn't so exhausted, I would have some snappy response to that."

"Oh please, John, don't blame the exhaustion. We both know the real issue here."

"And what's that."

"Your inferior intellect."

John just grinned.

"Well, apparently you couldn't survive without me and my inferior intellect or you wouldn't have come racing into the forest after me."

"Don't take it personally. I'm a show off who objects to murder on principle. I never miss an opportunity to look good."

John snorted.

"You are on fine form tonight, Sherlock. Fine form." John yawned. "All this verbal sparring is wearing me out." John settled back into the couch, his eyes closed. "We'll finish this tomorrow."

Within minutes, he was asleep. Sherlock surveyed his unconscious friends with a look bordering on overt fondness. He repositioned himself so his legs were hanging over the arm of his chair and closed his eyes, ready for the promise of adventure and friendship that lurked in the countless tomorrows that lay ahead. The game was on, and he and John were ready to play. They always would be.

This particular story has reached its end, but I am considering writing a follow-up oneshot of sorts set during the Battle of Hogwarts where John and Sherlock come back to their alma mater to fight against Voldemort and his forces. Stay tuned for that and thanks for joining me on this adventure!