SuperPotterLock- The Goblet of Fire

The Madness of Mr Crouch

John spent all of Sunday in bed, too shaky to move much. Sherlock brought him food and water, and wandered about the room thinking to himself.

'What?' John whispered, his voice all but gone, as Sherlock made his third lap of the room.

'Why wouldn't Trelawney just repair the crystal ball?' he said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

'Is that really what you're thinking about right now?' John croaked incredulously.

'It just doesn't make any sense.'

'Nothing about anything currently makes sense.' John massaged his throat. 'Are you sure there's nothing Cas can do about this?'

'I sent a first year to get him. He should be here soon.'

In the meantime, John drained his cup of water, wincing with every swallow.

By the time Cas arrived, he'd managed to push himself into a sitting position.

'Try this,' Cas said, passing John a watery silver potion, before sitting on the edge of the bed and examining him. 'How are you feeling today?'

'Weak,' John admitted, then downing the potion.

Cas ran his wand over John, muttering under his breath.

The potion instantly soothed John's throat as he swallowed it. 'Wow, thank you.' His voice was still quiet and croaky, but it didn't hurt anymore.

'I don't think I can help with anything else,' Cas said thoughtfully. 'It all appears to be connected.'

John shrugged. 'It was worth a go.' He looked into Cas's face. It was worn and sombre as usual, and before he could stop himself, he reached out to touch his hand. White light filled his vision, backed by an almost unbearable sadness.

Cas yanked his hand away. 'Don't do that again,' he growled before running out of the room.

'Sherlock-'

'I'll get him.' Sherlock chased after Cas.

Soon, John felt a tickle in his mind and followed it until he found Sherlock and Castiel.

'He didn't see anything,' John heard Sherlock say. 'It's all right, Cas.'

Cas didn't look all right. It was hard for John to focus in his current state, but from what he could tell, the colour had drained from Cas's face.

'I can't let him see-'

'See what?'

'My secrets are my own, Sherlock,' Cas said firmly.

Sherlock nodded. 'I understand, but he can't control what he sees.'

'He can control whether or not he touches me. I don't like to be touched.'

Tell him I'm sorry, John sent to Sherlock. Then he saw the chaotic, white aura rising around Cas. Tell him Gabriel's in the library. Exhaustion finally forced him to let it go, and he fell back against his pillows, having lost what strength he'd gained back.

'You shouldn't have done that,' Sherlock said when he returned.

John merely shrugged.

'I'm going to get dinner, do you want me to bring you some.'

'Why even ask? You already know.'

'It's polite to ask.'

'Since when do you care about being polite?'

Sherlock just sighed and left again.

John groaned to himself, only realising once Sherlock was gone that he was being a touch grouchy.