Ariana. That was her name. The little winged child saved by the police after she had been kidnapped and her parents had been murdered. She was only four- she could count it on her fingers, which she was very proud of. She had been kidnapped for ransom, the eighth in quite a line of children over the past five years. Her parent's hadn't paid up, but in an odd turn of events, the kidnapper had grown rather fond of the child, and killed the parents instead. He had called his Lillian and kept her locked up in a room and told her she was his, all his, his own personal angel. Sherlock had been given the case (an eight, in his book) by Lestrade, and for the mean time while they waited to find a more permanent home for her, Ari was staying with Sherlock and John.
Sherlock was the tall man with the long coat and the blue, fuzzy scarf, with curly black hair and long pale fingers that brushed her brown mop of hair out of her eyes and ran softly through the down on the underside of her wings. The ground became a light shade of violet-blue as stray feathers drifted to the ground. He was papa, in her mind. He liked his microscope and riddles and sitting in his chair. He would sit her on his lap and point out things in the microscope, muttering the names of things she didn't understand in her ears until John or the nice lady from downstairs would come bustling in and glare at Sherlock incredulously and talk to him about 'keeping the child away from the experiments'. Ariana didn't mind. She liked being close to Papa.
Papa had long, ebony wings that arched to the ceiling and fluttered slightly with pride when Daddy said something nice. But Daddy was always nice. Daddy was smaller than Papa, stronger. He had come up to her and told her his name was John and held her closer and took her pulse until she didn't feel scared anymore. His wings were tan and gold and white and bristled and moved like a pair of creatures out of a storybook. Like the angels in the old bible that the man used to read to her when he had come into her room on occasion. Ari liked when he talked about angels. She imagined one that would come and take her away from the man. She considered herself very lucky- she hadn't just gotten one, but two.
The first time she called the shorter man Daddy, like she had in her mind since the beginning, instead of John, he had taken her hands softly between his own and stared searchingly into her eyes.
He didn't say anything.
After a moment, he nodded slowly and touched his wings to hers, running his thumbs along the back of her hands.
"I love you too, Ari."
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A/N: winglock fic I found written way back in my folders….I only had a basic outline written, so I filled it out a little and decided to post it. Not sure if I want to continue it or not…it depends on what you guys think, so review away!
Elli