Hermione's trip down memory lane ended and her focus on the present and the task at hand sharpened, as she and Greg reached Sherlock's door. Inside, they could hear muffled thumps…but nothing else as they assumed their usual defensive position. They each took one side of the door…weapons in hand…as Hermione whispered the spell that violently threw the door back on its hinges.

"What took you so long?" asked the man who reclined casually in his usual armchair. "Nice entrance by the way," he continued while, next to him, a large man who sported an obvious broken nose and swollen eyes thumped angrily around in the chair to which he was tied.

Hermione ignored the strange man for a moment, however, as she discreetly slid her wand back into her holster. After all, she knew that if Sherlock had caused the man's injuries, then he probably deserved it. The detective may have been as exasperating as hell, but he did not harm innocent people. Accordingly, she focused all of her attention back on her wayward friend as she noticed he sported only a few visible scrapes and bruises.

"You bloody wanker!" she exclaimed. "I thought you were in trouble. You implied that you were seriously hurt."

"Not me," Sherlock replied calmly and the two newcomers turned to look back questioningly at the incapacitated man.

"Not him, either. Well…he did fall out of a window earlier, but that's all," Sherlock answered their unspoken question with a shrug.

"Oh no! Not again!" Greg exclaimed, as he visually checked over the man in the chair for any injuries that were more serious than the superficial ones that he could see. After all, he had read the situation the same way that Hermione had, but that did not mean that he wanted the man to suffer…unduly.

"Again?" questioned Hermione as she also determined that the man was structurally intact before she turned back towards Sherlock. "Do intruders regularly exit 221B in such an unorthodox way?"

"Of course not. Don't be stupid," the man answered in his usual curt fashion. Hermione had heard the tone so often before, however, that it was no longer possible for her to take offense at it. It was just the way he was. Nevertheless, his voice softened before he continued. "You have obviously been in Lestrade's bland company for far too long. You need to spend more time with me here at Baker Street in order to restimulate your intellect." He ignored Greg's snort of combined humor and indignation at that remark as he focused on the man's wife instead. "To answer your question, however, it only happens when they dare to lay hands on Mrs. Hudson."

Hermione's look softened immediately at his implication…and the sudden knowledge of why she had been summoned in the first place. "Where is she? Is she alright?" she asked with increasing concern.

Sherlock nodded. "I gave her one of the pain potions that you left for me last time…and then one of the sleeping potions, as well." He correctly interpreted the look she gave him then as he moved to reassure her the best way that he knew how. "Don't worry. Your secret is still safe from her. I told her that I nicked them out of John's bag the last time he was here."

Hermione noticed that flash of pain that momentarily crossed his face when he mentioned his absent best friend, but it was gone before she could say or do anything about it. Plus, she instinctively knew that Sherlock would not want her to acknowledge his show of sentiment, at any rate. Therefore, she just nodded in understanding as he continued. "She felt well enough to scold me before she went to sleep, but…"

Hermione nodded in understanding. She knew what Sherlock wanted. "I'll go look in on her. Thank goodness, I brought some extra supplies for you…just in case I needed them…because Merlin only knows what you get up to when left to your own devices for too long." To prove her point, she gestured at the obviously uninvited guest for whom she now felt no sympathy whatsoever. In fact, she actually had to resist the urge to have a go at him herself. She would hate for her own husband to be forced to arrest her for assault, though, so she immediately focused back on Sherlock instead.

She smiled warmly at the man as she patted the deceptively small bag at her side which both he and Greg knew from experience was bigger on the inside. "It sounds like you did a good job. She might need some of the bruise paste, though…and maybe an implanted memory suggestion that this was all just a nightmare brought on by an overindulgence of her hip soothers."

"That would probably be for the best," Sherlock agreed. After all, he knew that Hermione did not like to actually remove memories…even though she was perfectly capable of such an act...and actually authorized to do so...because it reminded her too much of what she had felt the need to do to her parents during her war. Despite the fact that Sherlock considered that to be sentimental nonsense, and would not hesitate to use the skill himself if he possessed it, he also knew that she was willing to compromise, if necessary. She had no qualms about slightly modifying someone's memories – especially if the act of doing so would keep everyone safe and happy.

The two men watched her exit the room and start to descend the stairs to the main floor flat where Mrs. Hudson lived before Sherlock turned to her husband.

"She's much too good for you," he stated matter-of-factly.

Far from being offended, Greg just nodded in agreement. "I know," he replied honestly. "I also know that Weasley was a bloody fool to ever let her go and I'm just the lucky son of a bitch who benefited from his stupidity." He then changed the topic as he looked over at the trussed up intruder. "Back to the matter at hand, though. Who is this bloke anyway?"

"Just a thug out for revenge since I made sure his brother was put away for life. Remember the two children who were murdered on the Powell Estate last year?" Lestrade nodded and his face grew hard and his fists clenched automatically at the thought as he looked at the man in the chair. Knowing that he could not always protect the most innocent of victims was always the worst part of his job...and this piece of shite in front of him was defending a kid killer and hurting old women.

"I think we should drop him out of the window again," he stated quite seriously and the man in question flinched.

"No!" The occupant of the chair actually slumped in relief at Sherlock's denial. The DI looked at the detective in surprise, though, as the man explained his logic. "However, that's only because Hermione will hex us both if you get blood on your clothes...or your hands." The implication was clear and Lestrade relaxed a bit at the thought of his wife and her insistence that he at least stay on the right side of the law by doing things by the book...as much as he possibly could around Sherlock, at any rate.

"Fair enough," he replied and the corners of Sherlock's lips even curved up a bit as the two men shared a look of mutual understanding. Greg then pulled out his mobile to phone the incident in to Scotland Yard. Since no magic was involved, it could easily be filed as a cut and dry case of an interrupted B & E/Home Intrusion where reasonable defensive force was used. Greg also decided to leave Mrs. Hudson out of his report completely since, according to Hermione, she would be completely healed after a good night's sleep and would no longer remember the unfortunate event, anyway. Plus, Greg felt confident that the man probably had enough priors or outstanding warrants that he would still get put away for a good long while...even without the older woman's testimony.

Meanwhile, Hermione took care of Mrs. Hudson until she was completely pain-free and unmarked from her ordeal and was able to slumber peacefully. Afterwards, she also tweaked the memory of the intruder to insure that anything magical that he might have seen or heard would appear as simply ordinary and mundane to him...but not before she gave in slightly to her darker side and sent a few stinging hexes his way to relieve her anger at his rough treatment of her favorite landlady. She knew that she should not have done it, but nobody was perfect...and Greg had been looking in the opposite direction. She did not bother to ask if that had been intentional on his part.

Afterwards, since it was very early on a typical chilly and foggy morning in London, she made sure that she had pots of both hot tea and coffee waiting for the uniforms on duty who came to collect the man. There was a reason, after all, that the thoughtful woman was universally liked around the Yard. Plus, not only was Special Investigator Granger-Lestrade admired for being the wife of their respected superior, but they all knew that she was a truly capable detective in her own right. In fact, she could solve strange cases that not even the Freak could. In addition to all of that, she had also somehow managed to become close friends with the pain-in-the-ass consulting detective and could occasionally get him to act like an real human being when nobody else could. He had even been the best man at the Lestrades' wedding! It was all quite impressive, and even though none of them could really understand the appeal of the relationship, they all knew that the three detectives were now inseparable…like really strange peas in a misshapen pod. They worked well together, however, and always solved the case...so that was all that really mattered in the end.