SuperPotterLock - The Order of the Phoenix

A Peck of Owls

John spent much of his first few days in bed. His connection to Sherlock was tenuous at best, but with his senses dulled, his visions became muffled. The nightmares didn't stop, but that's all they were, and eventually, he sat his mother down at the kitchen table and explained everything that had happened the previous year.

She sat quietly, listening through every halting word, only asking the occasional question, and passing him tissues.

When he was done, he felt empty and raw, and gulped down a glass of water while he waited for his mother to say something. It wasn't until his mother came around the table and wrapped him in her arms, that he realised he was shaking, and cried into her shoulder.

'I'm really tired, Mum,' he choked.

'I can tell,' she said, stroking his head. 'Sounds like you had a year of it.'

'I wasn't the only one,' John sniffed. 'I couldn't save Cedric.'

'It wasn't your job to save him,' she said quietly, pulling away and looking him in the face. 'It was everyone who was in charge of that stupid tournament's job to protect him. Dumbledore's for hiring that nutcase in the first place.'

'But what is it all for, if I can't use it to help anyone?'

'Does it have to be all that important? You helped that Neville boy find his toad, didn't you? And your friend's brother had fun doing his project on you, didn't he?'

'I suppose...' John slumped in his chair.

His mother suddenly smiled. 'I think I know something that will help.'

John looked up curiously.

'Why don't you invite Sherlock over?

John felt his cheeks warm.

'I can tell that you miss him.'

'It's only been a few days since I saw him,' John said, rolling his eyes.

'As if that would stop you. Does he have a telephone, or should we send a letter?'

'No need, hang on.'

John closed his eyes and reached out for Sherlock. It was faint, but he got the impression across. 'He's busy...' John mumbled. 'Somewhere cold... Sweden? No, Norway... He'll be back in a couple of weeks...'

'Okay, so he'll come here, then. Until then, I want you to stop blaming yourself. There was only so much you can do, and by the sounds of it, you did that.'

'I'll try.'

'And stop spending so much time in bed. I'll make you some tea, but then you should go for a walk and get some fresh air.'

'If you insist.'

She smiled again, but John saw her glance at the picture of his father on the wall.

'It's not the same,' he mumbled.

'I didn't say it was.'

'I'm not like him.' He stood, ignoring the cup of tea she made for him. Anger bubbled up inside him before he could stop it, and though he knew he was being irrational, her sympathetic expression only made him angrier. He brushed off the alarm coming from Sherlock and stormed from the house.

It was horribly warm outside, with only a slight breeze to alleviate it. The leaves on the hedges outside their house had begun to curl and turn brown. John walked down the street, ignoring all the children running around, and giving the ones playing with a hose a wide berth.