The last strains of the clock in the living room striking midnight are just fading away when my eyes fly open and I sit bolt upright in bed, the covers tangled around me. For a moment I blink in confusion, trying to work out what has woken me up so violently. Almost in answer a jolt of agonising pain courses down my back and I have to grit my teeth against a cry. My breathing quickens as small painful judders shake my muscles and leave me feeling weak. As abruptly as it struck the pain fades but I know with a horrible feeling of inevitability that it will all too soon be back. I groan quietly and bury my aching head in my hands. My skin burns beneath my touch as my very body chemistry begins to change. This should not be happening! It can not be happening! By my calculation I have at least another three years before this happens. Apparently my calcalutions were more than a little off...which is technically impossible considering how I would never get something so important so wrong. So how on earth did I not see this coming?

The skin of my back begins to burn again and grows from a slight twinge to a white hot agony that leaves me gasping for breath. My head swims unpleasantly and for a moment I find myself wishing for the emptyness of sleep. Sadly, right now, sleep is a very long way away and all I can do is breath heavily, and try not to scream. Eventually, after what feels like hours, the pain fades away and leaves me drained and shaking. Gingerly I ease myself over to the edge of the bed and lower my feet to the floor. My entire body feels sensitive, my skin almost painful to the touch. Please let this be over soon because I really don't know how much more of this I can take. Already the pain is beginning to build again and the muscles in my back are tightening unpleasantly to the point of breaking. Gritting my teeth I swear quietly beneath my breath.

I am not prepared for this! Usually for an Engifted it takes months to pysch yourself up for the moment of your final transformation and I haven't even starting thinking about it yet. Another disadvantage I have is that Engifted going through this have their friends and families' by their sides to help them through what is an incredibly tramatic event... my brain is sent reeling by another wave of pain that is intense enough to make beads of sweat stand out on my forehead. With a shaking hand I reach up to wipe them away. As I do so my gaze falls on the phone sitting on my bedside table. Hmmm. now that's an idea... Sure it may be the middle of the night but there is at least a small chance that Mycroft might pick up. It can not hurt to try because I won't be any worse off if my brother does not pick up.

Steeling myself I reach out, half expecting a wave of agony to hit me from nowhere. To my relief nothing happens and I find myself beginning to relax a little. Big mistake. My fingers have just closed around the phone when the next wave of agony stikes. It is more intense than any of the previous waves of pain and I am barely able to contain a cry. Every bone and muscle in my back feels like it is stretching way beyond what the human body is cabable of until white hot pain is the only thing I am aware of. It is so bad that tears stream down my cheeks and drip onto my lap. When I look down the only colour I am able to see is red.

Wait. I touch my fingertips to my cheeks. They come away sticky with what I swear is blood. I curse loudly. The tranformation is almost complete...any second now the wings will appear and I will finally know what sort of person I really am. There is a brief moment of pain before I managed to force it back down. Once it has happened there is no going back. All I hope for is that I do no become a Blackwing. Everybody depises Blackwings. The skin of my back begins to prickle with a hundred tiny needles and I clench my fists in the bed clothes. Here it comes; the final moment...

The pain is twice as bad as what I was expecting, tearing through me like a tidal wave and threatening to drag me under. Through gritted teeth I force out tiny huffed breaths that are still not enough and I find the edges of my vision beginning to fade to black. Honestly passing out would actually be a blessing right now. Well, maybe not entirely because if I do pass out there is a very high chance John will walk in tomorrow morning all worried when I don't turn up for breakfast. I have not yet got round to telling John about the fact I'm a Engifted. Something I am now beginning to regret... DAMN IT! My vision blurs and there is nothing I can do to prevent the scream of pain that tears itself from my throat. At the same time with the nasty wet tearing sound of flesh and the cracking of bone something huge and heavy bursts from my back with a whooshing sound and a rush of air.

Abruptly, almost as though it was never there at all, the pain has gone completly and for a moment all I can is lie still, gulping in great breaths of air. Please, please let the worse of the transformation be over. I really do not think I can take any more. A few minutes tick past and nothing happens. I begin to relax slightly, the tension slowly draining out of my muscles as sleep tugs at my eyelids. But I can not sleep...not quite yet anyway. First I want to see what colour my wings are. For an Engifted the wings are everything; they are our identity and also give hints as to what your powers might be. The first glimpse of them is both exciting and faintly terrifying at the same time. Slowly, and a little hesistantly I have to admit, I raise my head and crane to see over my shoulder. The sight that greets my eyes makes my blood run cold. There, plain as anything, are two huge wings covered with delicate, lace like black feathers.

Not the outcome I was hoping for at all. I lay my head back down and bury it in my pillow. I do not want to have black wings. It is well known that black winged Engifted are those possesed with dangerous or destructive powers, those who often end up hurting the people around them...my heart skips a beat. God only knows how John is going to react to this. Not only will he find out I am an Engifted but also that I may end up putting him in hospital. I bite back a curse and glance at my wings again, hoping that in the several seconds since I last looked at them they might have changed colour. Sadly luck is not on my side today. A loud groan escapes me. Why can't life ever be simple? As I think this I hear loud footsteps approaching my room in a rush and I hold my breath, praying that John hasn't come to check on me. That last scream was certaintly loud enough to have woken him.

"Sherlock, what's going on? I thought I heard a cry of pain. Are you okay?" John's voice is muffled through the door but I am still able to hear the concern in his voice.

John can not see me like this! I just know he will freak out and shout at me. Desperatly I search for a way out of this. Obviously, since John is standing right in front of it, the door is out, which only leaves the window. Slowly I stand up, carefully tucking my wings against my back, and walk towards the window in question. Outside London is quiet and the street is empty of people, perfect for making a quick getaway. When I slide it open a blast of freezing air blows in and lightly ruffles my black feathers. A shiver runs down my spine in response and suddenly I find myself eager to be out there and trying out my wings for the first time. From behind me comes a loud bang and I jump. John has evidently grown tired of waiting for a reply and is trying to force his way in. If I am going to make a decision I need to do it now before it is too late. Gingerly I lean out of the window and assess my surroundings. There is no outside sill to stand on, I am going to have to simply go for it and pray I can get airborne before I break my legs when I hit the ground.

"SHERLOCK! OPEN THIS DOOR OR I SWEAR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN!" This is followed by several more loud bangs and the ominous sound of splintering wood.

Well, it's now or never. Taking a deep breath I squeese my way out feet first and let myself drop. At first the feeling of falling and the ground rapidly rushing up to meet me is terrifying and for a moment I actually question whether I have just made a horrible mistake. Then my wings open to their full extent, slowing my fall enough so I can get in one or two powerful down-wards thrusts that propel me into the air. I hope John does not think too badly about me over this (I am sure he will understand once I get a chance to explain everything to him properly) and believes that I had no choice. With a heavy sadness in my heart I look back once at 221B Baker Street before I vanish into the darkness of the night.

Halfway across London in his grand town house Mycroft Holmes is struggling to drift off to sleep, and it isn't because his head is spinning from everything that had happened during the day. Something has changed, something big-though he can't put his hand on exactly what he has sensed. On the stroke of midnight a cold chill that had nothing to do with his powers rippled through his skin and a painful twinge has momentarily flared up in his back, reminding Mycroft of the night he had transformed into the Engifted he was now. He toss and turns a few more times before he admits defeats and gets out of back. For a moment he stands there, his blue, crystaline wings stretched out behind him. Lost in thought he at first doesn't hear the light knock upon the window. Whoever is outside tries again, hammering their fist against the glass. Mycroft jumps, mutters to himself about Engifted who do not appreciate others sleeping patterns, and makes his way over to the window.

'Who the hell could that be this time of night'. He thinks to himself as he yanks the curtains open. Mycroft is surprised by the sight that greets his eyes. Instead of a strange Engifted delivering an impotant message or some such thing he instead finds himself face to face with his younger brother. He stares at the black wings keeping his brother airborne, hardly able to believe what he was seeing. His brother, though he could be arrogant and a little annoying at times, was simply too gentle and kind to have black wings. Mycroft sighs. How typical of his baby brother to make his life ever more complicated. Shaking his head he throws open the window and steps aside to allow Sherlock to fly in. "You have some explaining to do little brother."