John's wings are huge, spreading wide and shimmering across his back in dramatic shades of orange and black. Sherlock says the vivid colors evolved as a warning sign, intended to alert predators that the bearer is dangerous, is no easy meat.

John laughs when he hears this, soft and self-deprecating, but inside he is pleased.

Sherlock's own wings are not as large as John's, much less colorful. Striated brown and grey, matte with soft powder. Centered in the hindwing of each, sudden and bright, is a yellow ring surrounding deep black.

The art of disguise, Sherlock tells him. Predators cannot be sure which direction you are facing, cannot tell whether they might be confronting a much larger creature.

"Like eyes," John nods. Sherlock grins, flutters his wings once.

When John runs, his wings fold together into a thin vertical plane, concealing his colors. He follows behind Sherlock, watches in the dark and the chaos of the chase for a flash of yellow to guide him. He runs, leaps, falls. His wings spread, cushion his decent, display his colors. He lands. Draws. Wings wide, he fires.

In the dark of the alley John keeps his wings spread, glittering black and orange. Sherlock exhales damp across the delicate membranes.

"No easy meat," Sherlock whispers, and John shudders at the touch of Sherlock's breath.


A/N: I love the idea that their wings are butterfly style rather than the standard bird-type wings. I picture John's wings as similar to those of a monarch butterfly, while Sherlock's resemble a polyphemus moth.

This was a random oneshot I wrote on my phone while rocking a fussy baby. I would not be surprised if I add chapters, sticking with the 221B format, since it's something I can do while soothing/breastfeeding, but nothing specific is planned out