Methods Beyond Magic

Oh, If Only There Was a Plan B

"We'll need proof, something to show Victor, to make sure he knows he's lost." John insisted, pulling away from Sherlock.
"That's alright, we've got the drink just analyze the contents, find the ingredients shouldn't be there." Sherlock decided. Sherlock nodded, hardly able to contain his excitement, he was free, he was finally free from that tyrant's miserable cage.
"We don't know which potion he used, there are thousands out there, we need to know what we're looking for." John insisted, studying the bottle once more.
"Well, he's bound to have a potions book, isn't he? We can check the library; he's bound to have checked it out of the Restricted section." Sherlock decided.
"To check a book out of the Restricted section needs a sign form." John pointed out.
"He'll forge a signature; he's able to do that." Sherlock assured.
"So all we need to do is check the library's files, and we'll be able to find the book, and which potions are in there, and then we can ask Snape to test the drink or something." John decided.
"Yes, yes, that sounds brilliant, yes." Sherlock agreed. "I'm free John, I'm finally free." He whispered.
"Not yet, that's where I come in." John insisted. Sherlock smiled widely, pressing a congratulatory kiss onto John's lips.
"You're my hero." He muttered.
"Oh, I know." John agreed with a laugh, ruffling Sherlock's curls and walking towards the door.
"I'll check the library, you stay here, lock the door." He insisted. Sherlock nodded, walking over next to him with a nod, opening the door and staring down at his John, his savior.
"I'll see you later then, at lunch?" he asked hopefully.
"Course you will, I'm not letting you out of my sight." John insisted with a smile. Someone let out a squeak of excitement, and the two of them jumped, Sherlock's wand in his hand before he realized they were being watched by an entire class of sixth years, sitting in their desks and being quieter than Sherlock thought possible. Obviously he was late for class.
"Oh my God, I completely forgot..." Sherlock muttered, putting his wand back in his robes and walking rather awkwardly to the front to the students, who were all giggling madly.
"I'll just...go." John decided awkwardly, inching his way to the door unsurely.
"See you at lunch." Sherlock agreed, and the class giggled again.
"Ya..." John agreed, glowing red and nodding rather awkwardly to the class before disappearing out the door. Sherlock faced his class with an apologetic smile, feeling quite lonely now that John had left him. Victor was bound to be in class, so there really shouldn't be that much of a risk, especially if John was wandering around such a public place like the library.
"So, um, sorry about that." Sherlock muttered awkwardly, walking over to his desk and sitting in his chair. The class just stared at him, smiles on their faces.
"So you two are a thing now?" a girl asked hopefully.
"What, no, of course not." Sherlock said quickly, getting quite red in the face so he looked down at his desk rather awkwardly. There seemed to be wood shavings, as if someone had been carving into his desk. Sherlock shuffled away some papers, uncovering two crudely engraved letters, V.T. Victor Trevor. A shiver went down Sherlock's spine and he reminded himself that this was all going to be over, Victor didn't have control of him any longer, Sherlock was going to be free.
"So, I think this is our last lesson on boggarts, then. Sorry I couldn't find one, that would've been fun." Sherlock decided.
"If you find one, can we fight it?" asked a student hopefully.
"You mean after the lesson is over?" Sherlock clarified. The student nodded hopefully.
"Yes, I suppose that would work." He agreed. The class seemed rather relieved, as if they had been hoping to fight one since the lesson started.
"Professor, what would yours be?" a girl asked, leaning forward as if enchanted by his words.
"My boggart? That's sort of personal, isn't it?" he asked.
"Yes, well, we're all friends here." she shrugged. Sherlock sighed, looking out the window and trying to find a good answer.
"Probably a muggle clown, those creepy ones that they dress up as for Halloween. When I was little they came to my parent's house, begging for candy, still scares me to this day." Sherlock sighed. It was true, of course, those creepy clowns messed him up, but he was sure that it would be Victor that came at him. Unfortunately, Sherlock couldn't think of anyway to make such a twisted, horrible boy into something humorous. The kids nodded, some laughed, but most didn't look convinced. Then again, it was a very personal question. So when class was over, Sherlock had to suffer through a batch of first years, all who were very peppy and energetic, they seemed very relieved to get their last lesson of random charms and spells out of the way. Sherlock was just waiting impatiently for John, tapping his foot against the floor and watching the door, as if John was going to come walking through the door at any moment with the book that Victor had checked out. But no, he waited in vain, and finally when the lesson let out, John came running in, fighting the wave of students. Sherlock noticed that there was no book in his hands.
"Where's the book?" Sherlock asked, getting up from his chair and walking over to where John was.
"Madam Pince said Victor had checked out a copy of advanced potion making, but hadn't checked it back in. As far as she knows, he's still got it." John sighed, shutting the door in defeat.
"So what do we do?" Sherlock asked.
"Well, we have to get the book from him." John decided.
"And how exactly are we supposed to do that?" Sherlock asked. John sighed, looking at Sherlock almost apologetically.
"We have to get in the Slytherin common room." he sighed. Sherlock's heart dropped; there was only one way to do that.
"But, we can get another student to let us in, can't we? It doesn't have to be Victor?" Sherlock asked.
"How are we going to explain to a student why we need to get in? Random homework checks? Besides, how would you know where to go, where the dorms are, which bed is Victor's?" John pointed out.
"I can't talk to him, I can't look at him, not when we're so close." Sherlock begged.
"I would volunteer, but he'd kill me, it has to be you, I'm sorry Sherlock, there's no other way." John insisted. Sherlock took a deep breath, determined even.
"When?" Sherlock asked.
"Not during lunch, that's suspicious. During dinner, when all the kids are out, we'll fish him out of the Great Hall, tell him that you need to talk to him in private and that you were afraid I'd be listening in the classroom." John decided.
"And what am I supposed to tell him? Tell him that I really love him, how am I supposed to get the book and get out?" Sherlock insisted. John frowned, his brain working on overtime to think of a possible theory.
"I don't know, maybe we can drug him right back?" John suggested.
"Stun him, knock him out? Sherlock agreed.
"Do whatever you need to, just make sure you get in the dorm, I hate to say it but you need to pretend like you like him, just a little bit. You can't be scared." John decided. Sherlock sighed, sinking back into his chair in fear.
"John, he's going to go back to his old ways. He'll kiss me; he'll hold my hands..." Sherlock shuttered.
"I would never put you in this situation if I had any other choice, but to free yourself you have to put those shackles back on, for one hour, not even, you need to be strong." John insisted, his brown eyes shining with determination.
"I hate him John, I hate him so much, I want him dead." Sherlock insisted.
"You can't kill him, that's worse than loving him." John pointed out.
"I know. I just...I want him to suffer as much as I have. I want him to know how bad it feels to be helpless." Sherlock decided. John nodded, sitting on the desk and taking one of Sherlock's hands gently, feeling very warm and welcoming, nothing like Victor.
"Sherlock, you're a determined person, but you're also a good person. Victor is desperate, evil, and lonely, and I know that he'll stop at nothing to get the two of us in his power again, but to wish upon him the same pain; doesn't that make you worse than him? We're the good guys Sherlock; we're the heroes in this story, and to kill him, to hurt him, that makes us villains. We need to be adults; we need to be reasonable, no matter how much that boy deserves to suffer we can't be the ones to hurt him." John insisted. Sherlock nodded once more, not liking it, but John was right. In order to keep the small peace of mind that he had, the part of him that knew he was the victim, he needed to stay that way. He couldn't hurt Victor because then he would be as evil as he was.
"Alright, I'll do it, but John, anything I say, don't take it to heart. To gain his trust I will have to talk bad about you, I will have to swear that I love him over you, that you betrayed me, something like that, and I don't mean it. I love you John, I'll always love you, and nothing I say to Victor will ever change that." Sherlock decided.
"I know Sherlock, and I love you as well." John agreed.
"Without you, well, I don't know what I possibly do. I'd still be in his clutches, right now he could be sitting on my desk, and you would be in your room, and none of this would be going on and I'd be as hopeless as ever." Sherlock insisted. John smiled shyly, as if he didn't want to think that he was actually a hero.
"I'm not that important." He muttered, blushing slightly.
"You're the only human being on this earth that matters John, you're the most important man in my life." Sherlock assured, putting his hand softly on John's cheek, bringing his eyes to meet Sherlock's.
"However much I had screwed up, you're the one thing I didn't, you're my only success." Sherlock muttered. John smiled thankfully, leaning in and pecking Sherlock's lips gently.
"You're my greatest success." He agreed. Sherlock kissed him back, pulling John closer to him and standing out of his chair, wrapping his arms around John's neck and letting the man kiss him as if it were the first time. Sherlock could only do his best to kiss back, to maybe gain control, maybe do more than feebly hold John close, but right now he was in a moment of panic, the first true kiss he's had since John had found out. And the fact that now there was no wall of secrets between them, John knew everything about Sherlock, Sherlock knew everything about John, and now that they could truly see each other for what they were, they were all the more in love. John knew the worst of Sherlock, his secrets, his mistakes, everything that he's done that made him wish he weren't alive, and with every kiss John seemed to be pulling Sherlock's broken pieces back together. With every touch, John was saving him.