Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Ink Me Up" John chuckled. He had heard about this from Lestrade at their latest pub meet-up, Lestrade had been showing him the new tattoo he had got a week before. Lestrade had quite a few tattoos from over the years.
"I swear John I been to some professional tattoo parlours. They're always so expensive, like £500 for a medium sized tattoo. £270 for a full sleeve tattoo and a quality one at that at this place." Greg said incredulously. John shook his head "You're really selling him, aren't you? Anyway, what made you think 'stuff small tattoos, I'm getting a full sleeve'?"
"I don't know but he's good, like really good. You said you were thinking about getting a tattoo, weren't you?" Greg pressed
John sighed, he had been thinking about getting a tattoo and had mentioned it to Greg at the last pub meet-up, admittedly quite a few drinks into the evening. but he still was unsure, he wasn't sure why he was holding back, heck it wasn't that he didn't like tattoos. he liked the look of them and most of his boyfriends often were decorated with tattoos.
"I don't know Greg, I mean it's one thing to think about getting a tattoo and a whole other thing to actually get one. It's just... I don't know." John trailed off, he had thought about getting one since he was 18, the only thing holding back was an inability to commit and get it done.
"Actually Greg, what's the name of the place? I think I might go and pay this 'amazing' parlour a visit." John decided, it was time that he committed and got tattooed.
"I can do you one better, I have the address on my phone, I'll send it to you."

As John stood outside of the small shop on St Martins Ct, John felt a little thrill run up his spine. ‘Come on Watson, you’ve got this far.’ and with that in his mind, pushed open the door.
"I'll be out in a sec, I'm just finishing up back here!" came from behind some tasteful green folding screen doors. John was certain he recognised that voice but he couldn't put a face to the voice. Nevermind, all would be revealed in time.
"Alright, I don't have to tell you what to do about the skin, you know by now. Um... see you in a fortnight for the colour, take care and you're paying now or after the colour?" the unknown voice said cheerfully.
"After the colour" came the crisp reply.
Hang on, was that Mycroft? John couldn't believe his ears, Mycroft Holmes, 'the British Government' came here and had tattoos? Multiple ones, judging by the 'you know by now'. no, it couldn't be, Mycroft was all prim and proper. he wouldn't have tattoos, and if he did, John doubted that he would go to a parlour like this one. And yet there he was, rolling down his sleeve to hide the fresh ink on his left forearm, umbrella leaning on the screen door. He only noticed John when he had properly buttoned his sleeve and was reaching for his jacket.
"Greetings Dr Watson" Mycroft said as if they had encountered each other on the stairs leading to 221B.
John was shocked, Mycroft Holmes had tattoos.

"Alright, mate. what can I do for ya?" came from behind the counter, it seemed that while John was getting his entire idea of Mycroft re-done, the artist had slipped behind the counter. John turned his eyes on the artist, "Um... my friend recommended me to go here, I was hoping to get a tattoo done here." Wait, the artist looked familiar...
"Harry Potter, as I live and breath."
"Yes, it's good to breath isn't it, otherwise you die and that's not fun, I can tell you. " came the cheery response "Wait, John, John Watson? oh, I thought you were dead somewhere in the desert, lying in the dust while the sun-scorched your dead body!" Harry said, looking like he would hug John any minute now.

Chapter Text

"Well, I tried that, wasn't too good. Got invaded out, thanks to a shoulder injury, now help Sherlock Holmes with cases" John said, the sides of his mouth lifting up. Harry had that sort of an aura about him, not much could stay serious for long in the presence of him.
"Oh really? the bloke on the news a bit? The one who says he can tell an, what was it? An aeroplane pilot by their left thumb, or was it right thumb? Ehh, never mind. You help him, do you?" Harry inquired, face crinkling as he tried to remember the details.
"Yeah, he asked me if the violin bothers me and then, well, we moved into a flat together. The first night, I shot a guy and it went from there. He really is smart, a bit of a prick though. He says he's a high functioning Sociopath, but well, they don't have emotions or really understand them, he definitely has emotions, he just doesn't understand them." John claimed. In the background, John could hear Mycroft scoff
"My brother isn't like others, Dr Watson. Don't mistake him for other mortal men."
"Hey, you can't talk, mister, you've got your own silver fox, do you not?" Harry cheekily said. Mycroft seemed to struggle in his mind for a second, then stiffened, "Well, goodbye" and with that, he turned on his heel and left.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
"Ahh, Mycroft, quite the customer he is. He collected quite the artwork, over the years." Harry says as if he was remembering the tattoos he's done over the years. "Now, back to business, you want a tattoo, do you have a drawing or design that I can go off? Or do you want to see what I can rustle together?"
"I don't have a drawing with me, but I have an idea of what and where I want it." John replied, "I was thinking of a lion on my left shoulder. I have a scar there, though, will that mean that I can't have it there?"
Harry looks thoughtful, "I'll have to take a look at it, but I doubt it. I've done tattoos over scars over the years, at worst it might be a little bit more painful. How 'bout you show me the shoulder now, I'll take a few photos, and we'll see what I can do you."

John started to undo his cardigan, and then froze 'Should he unbutton his shirt from the bottom or from the top? What if Harry saw his scar and asked how he got it?'
Harry noticed that John had made no progress with his cardigan, apart from unbuttoning it. "Hey, if you're conscious about the scar, you don't have to show me. Or we can move to the back so you can have better privacy." Harry assured John. John swallowed, the back would be nicer if he had to show his scar. But Harry said he doesn't have to show his scar... No! He was going to get this tattoo and be proud of it, scar be damned. "Could I please go to the back? It's just with the windows..." he trails off.
"Of course, this way." and with that, Harry turns and walks towards to folding doors.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
As the last button slips out from its hole, John turned and faced Harry. Harry reached out as if he was going touch John's scar but stopped himself just before he touched John. Green eyes met blue as he finally closed the distance and touched the scar that took up most of John's left shoulder. John found himself shiver as Harry closed his eyes and started to run his fingers over the textured surface of his shoulder. To John, Harry's fingers on his scar, something that he didn't let many people touch, was like someone had removed a lead jacket from him. Harry's voice broke the quiet. "Yeah, I can work with this. it's going to hurt though." Harry said, almost in awe at the way John had relaxed from his fingers on his shoulder. "Let me take a photo, then you can put your shirt back on.". John heard Harry move away to find his phone, he didn't dare open his eyes after what he felt.
"Okay, you can put your shirt back on," Harry said, touching Johns non-scarred shoulder with one of his hands. John reluctantly opened his eyes. He reached for his button-up and slid one arm in, followed by the other one.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo
Harry had a large scrapbook open on the counter, open to assorted drawings and pictures of lions. Glancing over the page, John could see that some of the drawings were stuck just by a small blob of blue tack, clearly, those were often asked for. But there was one design that caught his eye. Its position was on the shoulder, the lion mid-snarl with its mane flying out behind it. In the mane, there were small designs worked into the mane.
"Found one, have you?" Harry's voice broke John's concentration.
"Ah, yeah... at least I think I have." John stuttered out "with the mouth, where would that go?"
"Well, I was thinking, maybe the exit wound?" Harry said, looking at John's face to see how the idea would go down, "That way the mane could have have a bit of texture from the scarring around it."
John could almost see it on him, the lion's snarl around the exit wound. "Let's do it. Do I make an appointment or what happens?"
"I'm free on the 12th, the 15th and 22nd of May. What suits you best?" Harry asked, pulling out a dusty laptop and rebooting it.
"I think the 12th." John said, leaning on the counter, "What's the cost for something like this?"
"well, you choose the lion because of your Hogwarts house, didn't you?" Harry said, not even trying to keep the smirk out of his voice. "For that, I'm willing to waive the £50 surcharge. Plus, the pain I'm going to put you in, is not the nicest thing. So, I'd say about £50 per hour."
"Deal." John said, a smile breaking out on his face, "I'm going to ignore the Hogwarts jibe. It's for the best isn't it?"
"Yeah" With that, Harry closed his laptop and held out his hand for John to shake. John looked down at the hand being offered, and decided, fuck it and leaned in and hugged Harry. Harry didn't seem phased in the slightest by this and easily moved his arms to hug John back.

Chapter Text

Harry's POV

"Harry, I've got night shift, could you please look after Scorpius for me? Please, Harry, Astoria is still in the hospital and you know I can't leave him with mum and dad. They'd tell him... things. Look please could you look after him? For me?"

Harry sighed as he placed his phone down, Draco really had changed after the war, they all had. Sure, St Mungos had been reluctant to employ an ex-Death Eater but Draco had quickly proven them wrong, he was a quick efficient worker but had a kind bedside manner. Still, he had plans for this evening, sure they weren't something like going out and finding a one-night-stand but an evening spent binge-watching Friends with a tub of ice cream was important. Oh well, he could do that with some company there, too. 

Sure thing, pick-up or drop off? 

Thank you so much, I'll drop him off on my way.

 Crack! Harry stood up and ran to the door. there stood Draco and Scorpius, trying to swish onto the same small doormat to avoid the rain. 

"Come in, come in. can't have you getting sick." Harry said, gesturing for both of them to come into the house, "How's everything? Work, school?"

"School's boring, we learn nothing new or interesting. I can't wait to be 11, Hogwarts sounds so much better than my school." Scorpius said as he walked through the doorway into Grimmauld Place. Draco stayed outside standing on the doorstep. 

"I'll be back around 10:30, that alright?"

"Sure thing, now go. You'll be late" 

Harry chuckled, "so kiddo, I honestly can't be half-arsed to cook, so what do'ya say we order Chinese and put on something to watch?"

Scorpius's eyes lit up and he nodded excitedly. "Please, can we watch Star Wars? I've been trying to get dad into it but he says it's stupid because of the force and how it's invisible, but I said that's the same as magic and now he says we can't watch it." 

Harry smiled at Scorpius, he didn't remember being this excited or happy at watching Star Wars. "sure thing, kiddo. What's your order for food?"

"Whatever, I don't care, as long as it has rice on the side, I love rice..." he trailed off, swept up in a rice fantasy. 

"You already… have, Luke. You were right. You were right about me. Tell your sister… you were right."

As Darth Vader took his last breath in the arms of his son, Harry looked over to the small boy who had fallen asleep during the speed chase on Endor.

Although Harry loved being able to have his own life and not have to worry about a small creature, he still did want to be able to have a child of his own. It wasn't impossible for men like him, gay men, to start a family of their own, but the chance of finding a male carrier that was happy to be around him and actually loved him was almost impossible.  Until he found someone like that he would have to be satisfied by looking after his friends' kids. Being uncle Harry, the fun uncle, the one who let you stay up and watch movies together. And he was fine with that, he had to be. 

"Alright kiddo, up to bed I think," he said as he carefully picked up Scorpius and cradled close to his chest. Scorpius just grunted softly. 

As he tucked Scorpius in, he brushed a single lock of pale blond hair off his forehead.

"Goodnight" he whispered as he gently closed the door to a softly sleeping Scorpius.

Making his way up the stairs, Harry sighed. Weeknights like this were some of his favourite evenings. The peace that came over the too-big house after everyone was asleep was magical in the power that it had over Harry's nightmares. The nights where the house was empty were the worst. Sometimes he'd stay up all night just to make sure they didn't find him. 

Harry closed the door to his bedroom and promptly collapsed onto his bed. He was just so tired, he had started the day with a roaring headache, and hadn't been able to stomach much more than a banana. At work, his headache had just increased after a truly ignorant walk-in who had taken one look at him and said he wasn't going to be tattooed by a 'filthy Muslim'. Harry was too tired to point out that he wasn't filthy, he had actually washed that morning. It wasn't the worst thing he had heard regarding his skin, by far, but it still hurt. Even seeing John after all this time, hadn't helped it.  

After putting an old comfy t-shirt on, grabbing his laptop and hopping into bed, Harry felt the last of the tension from the day. There was just enough time to check his emails and take a quick look at what other artists were doing. 

Harry sighed, watercolour tattoos were coming back, he could just imagine the many young and old girls coming to him and asking for a drawing of a small fluffy animal done in watercolour. He might actually go crazy if no one askes for a trash polka tattoo soon.   

Chapter Text

Johns POV
John sighed, just as he was leaving to go, Sherlock just had to get a text from Lestrade saying he was needed for a case. He tried to make his escape when Sherlock had first laid eyes on the body but, Sherlock had needed his medical expertise in diagnosing the correct cause of death. John, annoyed at Sherlock’s insistence that he should stay at the scene of the crime, simply put the cause of death as 'stupidity' and turned on his heel. Sherlock persistently followed John, his long legs making the head start John had, non-existent.

"Sherlock, I don't care what you think the murderers motive was, I have an appointment that because of you, I'm late for." John spat. Just because he had followed Sherlock like some kind of sad puppy, he shouldn't be expected to do it every time. He was a grown man for god’s sake, he had his own life. It might not be as interesting as Sherlock’s was, but it was his!

“But John!” Sherlock whined like the toddler he was, “I need you. The bodies have strange markings on them! I need my blogger!” John sighed, “Sherlock,” he said as he turned around, “I have a very important appointment I need to keep. You’ll have to do without my help on this one.” With that, John turned on his heels and walked away.

                       ********************

John closed the door that led to the secluded benchtop where Harry sat, looking at his laptop, his brow furrowed. Harry’s lips moved but John heard no noise from them. When he heard the tinkle of the bell from the door, Harry looked up, and John saw Harry’s entire face brightened.

“Finally, someone who can string more than five words together! I swear, humans today…” Harry leapt up from behind the bench, laptop forgotten. “Now, you’re here for… ughhh” Harry suddenly stopped halfway through his sentence, looking over Johns' shoulder. John spun around, Harry only made that noise when he had clapped eyes on a, in Harry’s words, a tall drink of water. Behind him stood, oh God, now not only did he have to worry about Sherlock annoying Harry but now he also had to make sure Harry did not hit on his very annoying but handsome flatmate.

“Sherlock! What is it this time?” John bit out, hoping that this was just a terrible dream and he would wake up and nothing would have actually happened.

“I followed you after you left, you haven’t been ill recently, so there's no reason for you to go to the doctor. You haven’t gone on a date in a month, so you’re not going to make sure clean unless you’re planning on going on a date with that receptionist. Which you’re not, so why would you have an important appointment to keep?” Sherlock listed as if he found it tedious to stoop to the level of Johns' brain.

John sighed, “Harry, this is… Sherlock. Sherlock, this is Harry. I was getting a tattoo; Harry was going to be tattooing me. Now, can I please be able to do one thing for myself without everyone joining in on it?”

                                                                 *********************

John sat on a comfortable leather chair, the chair was tilted back slightly so Harry would have the best access to Johns' shoulder. Sherlock was unnaturally quiet, probably in his mind palace thinking about the case.

“Right, your shirts off, the outlines on, I’m talking to myself aren’t I?” Harry trailed off, snapping on a pair of black latex gloves. As he lined up the ink gun, Harry suddenly looked up at John, “You sure you want this?” John was taken back, usually, he was the one to ask Harry that.
“I’m certain” John said, steeling himself for the incoming pain.
“Right, well, Allons-y!” and with that, Harry closed the distance and started to decorate Johns’ skin.

                   ***********************

"نو، ستاسو ملګري هلته هلته؟ هغه جادوګر یا جادوګر?"

John blinked, he had forgotten that Harry had been the person to teach him Pashto when he was in the Army. Whenever John had asked about how  Harry had come to be able to speak the language fluently, the response had always been a shrug and a curt “You never know when you might need it”.

هغه؟ هو، هغه یوه خوله ده، مګر زه شک لرم چې هغه به اوریدلی وای. هغه دا چال چلن لري چې هغه په ذهن کې ځي، حتی هغه څه چې اوریدلي یې نه اوري اوري. دا ښه ده، زه شک لرم چې هغه به پاملرنه وکړي که موږ خبرې پیل کړي.

“Still don't want to get hauled up in front of the Ministry because of mouthing off in front of a muggle," Harry said as he traced around Johns' shoulder. John hmmm’ed thoughtfully, Harry had often been in trouble with the Ministry and had even once been threatened with Azkaban. That trial had been quite eventful ending in a screaming match between the then-secretary Hermione and the then-judge Umbridge. It had ended with Umbridge being discharged because of her so-called behavioural issues. From what John had heard, Umbridge had been red in the face and Hermione's hair had come out from her tight bun and was framing her face.

John was brought back to the present rather suddenly by Harry poking his face. He shook his head and looked at Harry.

“Just wanted to tell you that I’m gonna start on the lion's mouth. Just a heads up for the pain.”

**************************

“So, what's been happening with you? Last, ahh, time I checked, you were, ahh, training for the Aurors and, ahhh god, were dating Jack. What, ahh, happened?”

Harry paused, John wished he hadn’t. The constant pain was easier to train his mind to ignore rather than the sudden wave of pain that came crashing down on him when Harry stopped.

“Oh, we really need to catch you up on everything.”

“What?” John spluttered, “there can’t be that much to catch up on. Can there?” Worry creeping into his voice.

Harry screwed his mouth up and shook his head, “Look, I’ll get your number afterwards and I’ll text you.”  

*********************

“There we are, all done! Looks pretty good, if I say so myself. How was the pain? Not too bad, I hope” Harry said over his shoulder. John sat up slowly, his shoulder did hurt but the pain was starting to fade slightly. Harry spun around, in his hands was a roll of cling-film “Right, I’ll pop this on and then I’ll leave you to get changed back into your old man clothes.” John raised his head in mock distress at the old man comment.

John shook Sherlock’s shoulder, “Sherlock, I’m done, um, can you hear me?”

“Of course I could hear you, John, you don’t have to shake me. Now, will we be finally able to leave this… place?” Sherlock muttered as he stalked away.

“Alright, that was, what 6 hours?  How much did we say per hour? 50 was it? Okay, 50 times 6, that's, oh god what is it…”

“300” was Sherlock cold harsh input.

“Thanks, so that's 300£ John.”

While John was busy paying for the ink on his skin, he could hear Harry leaned over the counter towards Sherlock, “So, you’re the younger Holmes, aren’t you? Oh, I’ve so much about you.”

“Harry, stop. He's not interested.”

“Spoilsport,” Harry sighed. Just then, Harry's phone started to ring. “Sorry, can I get that?” John nodded, not really listening.

*******************

“Right, so small that on your hip… um, sure thing… What was your name again, sorry?... Oh okay, I think I’m free on the 16th of August, would that suit you? Perfect! Goodbye” and with that, he placed the phone down. John wrote down his number on a scrap of paper left lying around on the counter.

“Cya!” and with that, John turned and left.

My Tumblr, 

Chapter Text

*runs out of a hedge* I DID IT! I WROTE ANOTHER CHAPTER!!! There will be a chapter update probably in the next week or so, but I thought I should tell you dear readers who have waited, subscribed, given kudos or the sacred few, wrote a comment. Don't get me wrong, I love everyone who reads this, but those few who gave kudos, who know who you are ^o^ ^o^, you are awesome. Let's have an arrangement, for every comment, I get on this chapter or on any other chapter, ill remove a day from how long you'll have to wait for the next chapter. 🤞🤞🤞

To help you write those comments, here's a preview of the next chapter.

Harry sighed, business was slow today, hell business was slow all week, for the entire week he’d only had two walk-ins and five appointments. Harry couldn't complain about the walk-in's though, the challenge that they gave him; creating their ideal tattoo without time to refine the drawing between the meeting and the appointment was something he loved about his job. But at times, he needed something more, something different… something that was currently walking through the door.
Short, skinny, with black hair and dressed in what Harry could only guess as the finest Westwood Harry (Mycroft, during one of his many appointments, had lectured Harry about the difference between Westwood and Burberry, Harry had never been able to forget the information, no matter what spell he used) the man came up to the counter and started to tap angrily at the countertop; looking like he would rather be anywhere other than Ink Me Up.

“Bad day?” Harry asked. The man scowled harder, “Can we get this over with? I need this on my back and it needs to be done before 5.” The man snarled at Harry, with that, he slammed down a crumpled piece of paper onto the counter-top.

Chapter Text

Harry sighed, business was slow, for the most part of the week he’d had two walk-ins and five appointments. He couldn't complain the walk-ins for the challenge that gave him; creating their ideal tattoo without time to refine the drawing between the meeting and the appointment. But at times he needed something more, something different… something that was currently walking through the door.

Short, skinny, with black hair and dressed in what Harry could only guess as to the finest Westwood (Mycroft had, on one of his many visits, lectured Harry on the difference between Westwood and Gieves, Harry had never been able to forget). The Harry (Mycroft, during one of his many appointments, had lectured Harry about the difference between Westwood and Burberry, Harry had never been able to forget the information, no matter what spell he used) man came up to the counter and started to tap angrily at the countertop; looking like he would rather be anywhere other than the parlour.

“Bad day?” Harry asked. The man scowled harder, “Can we get this over with? I need this on my back and it needs to be done before 5.” The man snarled at Harry, with that, he slammed down a crumpled piece of paper onto the counter-top. Harry nodded and gingerly reached out to take the paper. Once smoothed out, the paper showed a medium-sized tattoo of a tiger, a skull and magpie. The skull in question had the tiger winding around the skull and poking the head out of the right eye-socket. The magpie was standing on top of the skull, looking as if it were looking out on its kingdom.

‘I can do something like this, before 5’ you say? Why not, I don't have anyone booked for the rest of the day.” Harry said, crossing the floor to flip the sign on the door, from open to closed.

“So, got a story to why you came here in such a terrible mood with a screwed up design for a tattoo in your pocket? Or was it just a spur of the moment kind of thing?” Harry asked, applying the stencil onto the man's bare-back. The guy shifted slightly in the chair and then began to recount his tale.
****************

Jim had just come home after a long day working with his ‘Empire’ as Sebby often called it. Sebby was sitting on their couch, partway through disassembling his favourite rifle, he stretched, allowing his shirt to lift up and show a hint of the ink that it hid. Looking up, a smile making its way upon Seb’s scarred face, “Jim, how’s the empire?” He asked jokingly.
“Sebby! It's not my empire, how many times do I have to tell you that?” Jim protested jokingly.
"They all answer to you, don't they? Sounds like an empire, to me." Sebastian joked. Jim, crossing the room quickly, threw himself down, landing with his head in Sebastian's lap.

Carding his fingers through Jim's hair, "Strange to think this time next year we'll be married." Sebastian remarked, Jim froze, and quickly his hands in his suit jacket pockets, think that maybe Sebastian wouldn't ask to see the ring that he had proposed with. The one that was currently lying on the ground of the Tower of London next to a fire extinguisher…
“How’s the ring? Perfect fit?” Sebby’s voice broke through Jim’s thoughts. Trying to shove his hands underneath Sebby’s legs, Jim tried to come up with a response that wouldn’t lead to Sebastian thinking that Jim was cheating on him. In the end, he gave up and told the truth, Jim would never admit it but he loved Sebby and wouldn’t let anything happen to his tiger.

*******************

You’re telling me that the ring that I proposed to you with, you used to break in and wear the crown jewels because you were bored and wanted Holmes to play with you? Sebastian’s voice grew on the last few words, his face reddening as he practically spat out Sherlock's name.
“Is that what you’re telling me? God, to think I thought you might have cared, cared enough to marry me! Maybe I'm too boring for you, is that it? Maybe you should marry Holmes if he doesn't bore you as I do. Why did you say yes? WHY? You knew I loved you, you knew and you said yes! God, I hate you, how could you? How could you? Why did you say yes?” Sebastian yelled into Jim’s face, as he paced up and down their living room.
“You make me sick, I loved you. Did you know that or was that another annoying human trifle that you believe yourself above? Like, oh I don't know? Like saying I love you, Sebastian Moran?” Seb screamed into Jim’s face.
Jim could only whimper, he tried desperately to force the words out of his mouth, the words that prove to Seb just how much he loved him and how Sherlock Holmes could go hang, that he, Jim Moriarty only wanted Sebastian Moran. But he couldn’t, he couldn't force the words out of his mouth and into the waiting face of one Sebastian Moran, uncertain if to remain the fiance of one James Moriarty. When it became clear that the words weren't going to come, Seb’s face fell and he turned on his heel, storming out of their apartment. Jim fell off the couch, curling into a ball, started sobbing. Sebastian had left him, sure he hadn't said it outright that he was, but it was there, hidden under the words that he had spat into Jame's face. Jim sobbed and couldn't stop, Sebby was gone, Sebby, who he could always count on to be there after a long day at the empire, to be there either in their bed or on their couch working through something or maybe watching some trash telly ready with his soft lips and kind smile, to relieve him of all his woes.

***************

"Wait, are you getting this tattoo to try and get this Seb guy back? Cos, I think an apology might be better first." Harry interrupted Jim's tale.
"What? Oh no, I went and apologized but this is going to be the final piece to prove to him that I really do care about him and that I do love him." Jim explained exasperated.
"Ohhh, cool" was Harry's only response, and he continued with the tattooing.

**************

Locking the door to Ink Me Up, Harry's phone dinged with a notification.
Ron
Hey mate, wanna catch up with me and 'Mione @ the Leaky?
Grinning, Harry typed out his response.

Sure thing, remember John Watson? Well, I ran into him. Said we should catch up, maybe tonight? I'll check him. Might be up for it tonight.

To: John
Hey, I was wondering, you free? Cos me, Ron and 'Mione are gonna meet up at the Leaky tonight, be nice to catch up with you.
Tucking his phone away, Harry hailed a taxi to take him back to 13 Place.

John
Sure thing, it'll be nice to see Ron and Hermione again. What time?

I'll check with Ron

Ron
What time for the meeting? John in.

Probs 6:30, Mione says that's earliest she can get off.

Cool.

John
Ron says about 6:30, works for you?

Sure thing

With that, Harry placed his phone down and grabbing his computer, started to work on a couple of clients tattoo designs

John's POV

Shoving his phone into his pockets, John called down the stairs to Sherlock, who was experimenting with a pig's head in the kitchen.
"Might be late back tonight, gonna go and meet up with Harry tonight at the pub." He called, not expecting a reply or any sign that Sherlock had heard him. He was surprised when Sherlock call out, "the one who tried to flirt with me at the tattoo parlor? Or your sister?
Coming down the stairs, John asked bewildered, "you remember that? I thought you were in your Mind Palace place."
Grimmauld Place to get ready for the evening ahead.

**************
Johns POV
Stumbling out of the taxi, John saw Harry and Ron standing on the steps leading up to the Leaky Cauldron, talking animatedly, gesturing with their hands to illustrate some point one of them must have been making. Smiling, John walked over to them.
“I'm telling you, I'm fine with the fact that he’s gone off for five months for a job. I don't depend on him to be able to breath, God Harry.” John heard Ron say, to a grinning Harry.
“Are you sure?” asked Harry, his tone cynical. John, who hadn’t seen or heard from either Harry, Ron or any of his school friends, was understandably lost.
“Who are we talking about?” John asked, smiling. Harry and Ron spun around, being so engrossed in their conversation that they had become completely oblivious to the world around them.
“Ron, you remember John, right? From school?” Harry asked, gesturing to John.
Ron screwed his face up in thought, then, Ron’s eyes widen in remembrance, “How could I forget? You spilled one of your potions on Snape and made half his robe dissolve! He hated you for that…”
John chuckled, he’d nearly forgotten about the small things that made Hogwarts, Hogwarts.

****************

Stumbling back from the leaky, Harry and John supporting a weeping Ron,Harry remarked, “we should do this more often.”
“What? Get pissed and then cry about our boyfriends? Cos, Rons all good for that but I don't know if I’ll ever get one, well maybe one that won’t run off ‘cos he’s scared of Sherlock…” John trailed off. Harry looked at John, sympathy in his eyes, or maybe that was just drunken stupidity, John couldn’t be sure.
“You’ll find one, no ones alone forever, hell Ron of all people got one before either of us.” Harry said cheerfully, if slightly drunken.
“Yeah, maybe…” John said.