John grumbled again as they made their way down the musty hallway. He wanted nothing to do with this, had tried to get out of it, but the army had insisted. As a doctor he would need something to watch his back, something to protect him when he was kneeling over an injured soldier.
"Dragon," John sighed. "Never thought I'd be here." The greasy man in front of him was turning a large deadbolt on the third door they'd come too, his forehead gleaming in sweat.
"Right in here sir," he explained. "This is where we keep the ones strong enough for the military." John stepped into the dank area, scanning the cages on either side of him. Dragons in various forms from ones that looked fully human to ones that were quite cramped in full dragon form littered the cages. The ones in this part of the facility were meant to have more of an attitude and power so most the dragons he passed were glaring obstinately at him. They came to the end of the row and he started to follow the man around a corner when something caught his eye. An obsidian scale glinted in the dim light and he followed the shape up to a pair of golden eyes that were staring back at him intensely.
"What about this one?" John asked, when the man had skipped over him in his endless sales pitch.
"That one? You don't want him," the seller snorted. "He's gonna be put out of his misery next week. Trouble that one is."
"What's wrong with him?"
"Fights orders constantly, fights handlers like the devil, plus that lightning blast of his definitely has some kick." The dragon bared its fangs in a smirking leer if dragons could do such things, lightning crackling over his scales.
"Speed?" John asked, moving closer to the bars to get a better look.
"Sir, I beg you, you don't want to bother with this one," the man tried again. John turned and glared at the greaseball.
"I don't believe it is up to you what dragons are fit for the british army," John snapped, posture straightening. "Now I asked you a question."
"Ain't seen nothing faster," he relented. When John turned back around the dragon had come closer, allowing him to get a better look. It was almost cat like, sturdy but graceful and when the light caught the scales just right there was a purple sheen to the bottom arc of each scale. His golden eyes took in John as much as John was taking in him.
"He's amazing," John whispered. "I'll take him." Greasy, as John was affectionately thinking of him as, groaned and went to fetch paperwork and some unlucky handlers.
When the men finally returned, they were all wearing rubber gloves and sturdy jumpsuits. They carried long sharp poles and one man was drawing up drugs into a syringe. The dragon started snarling behind John, drawing back slightly into the shadows, but John could see the electricity rolling over its scales.
"I really don't think this will all be necessary," John argued as the men were suiting up. A large crate was rolled up to an opening of the cage and latched securely in place.
"Ya have no idea wha' you're dealin' wif," a man missing quite a few teeth snapped. "Lucky te be alive in the 'morrow," he mumbled and went to his position by the cage door.
"Please?" John pleaded. "Can I just try first?" They all looked to Greasy who finally nodded his head slightly.
"It's your funeral," he grumbled. John went to the human sized door, watching as one of the men unlocked it and opened it just enough for him to squeeze in. He stepped inside and immediately the door was slammed and locked behind him. The dragon was backed into a corner, electricity still crackling over his scales, but he simply watched John, no act of hostility...yet.
"What's your name?" he asked gently, hands upright in a sign of peace.
"He goes by Sherlock," Greasy called from outside the cage and the dragon whipped its head around and let out a hissing snarl in the man's direction.
"It's all right Sherlock," John cooed. "Do you wanna leave this place? Go on an adventure?" The dragon's spiky ears lifted, looking alert and the lightning trickled to a stop. "You have to go in this box, but I promise you no more drugs and no more cage after that. You're going to live with me and we're going to go on an adventure." Behind him he could hear a few of the men chuckling which had Sherlock glaring in their direction again. Haughtily he got to his feet, wings tucking against his side and tail swaying and moved smoothly into the box waiting for him. He curled up like a great big cat and for all intents and purposes went to sleep. The man with the missing teeth silently shut the big cage door and John turned to see everyone staring at him in disbelief. "Shall we fill out that paperwork then?" he asked, stepping out of the cage and past the handlers.
By the time they finally made it to John's flat Sherlock was awake and getting quite cranky from being in the cage for too long. John could hear the electricity crackling over him and was getting nervous about opening the cage for the first time, but a deal was a deal. When the last delivery person left, he shut the door behind them and approached the crate nervously. He placed a hand over the big rusty latch and realized golden eyes were peering at him intently between the slats. He steadied his nerves and yanked the latch open. Sherlock burst from the cage, knocking John back onto the floor and whirlwinded around the living area finally stopping crouched over his new owner. He stared at him intently for several minutes, John not moving a muscle, then shrieked and went bounding to the back of the couch where he settled himself, one wing draping onto the floor haphazardly. John let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and pushed himself upright, taking in the sight of the dragon curled up on his couch. He didn't seem like he'd be moving any time soon so John headed for the kitchen intent on making a cup of tea and some food for himself and his new companion.
He'd been clattering around noisily in the kitchen for a while when he realized he wasn't the only one in the kitchen any longer. He turned and about dropped his cuppa, mouth dropping in shock. A nude, tall pale man was standing in the doorway, dark curls grazing his forehead. He had two small curved horns nestled in his hair and a scattering of scales across his body. Two large leathery wings were curled almost protectively around his shoulders as he took a look around.
"It's been a long time since I've been in this form," he said in a rich baritone, icy blue eyes finally focusing on John. "Is there more food? I haven't eaten in a very long time either."
"Uh...of course!" John stammered, turning and fixing another plate. "I'll see about finding you something to wear too!" Sherlock had sat himself down at the table when John turned around again, thanking him as he sat the plate down in front of him. When John finally sat down with his own plate of food Sherlock looked at him carefully.
"Afghanistan or Iraq?" he asked suddenly, eating another forkful.
"How did you know?" John asked.
"I remember you saying adventure, you're clearly army. Army requires their higher officers and medical professionals to have dragons these days. You're a doctor which is how you ended up with me, so where are we going? Afghanistan or Iraq?"
"Amazing," John mumbled.
"What?" Sherlock said, looking confused.
"That was incredible, how'd you know all that?" John stammered.
"I can see it," Sherlock said softly, eyes on his plate. "One of my talents I guess, seeing the truth."
"Well it was bloody amazing," John complimented, gathering his plate up and depositing it in the sink. "I'm gonna see about finding you something to wear." John dug for a while before finding a pair of sweats and a large t-shirt he expected would fit the dragon. He returned with the items and a pair of scissors, prepared to cut holes for his leathery wings. Sherlock took the items, yanking the pants on with a slight grimace and took one look at the t-shirt before abandoning the concept all together. "We can go get you some proper clothes tomorrow," John promised. "Plus I'll have to take you by the base for inspection and to have you fitted for your own gear. We'll be leaving within the month for Iraq so we're kind of on a time crunch." Sherlock nodded, dragging a blanket from the back of the couch over him as he curled up on the leather sofa. "Well... good night," John said awkwardly, backing towards his own bedroom. John sighed as he shuffled into his own bed, 'maybe this won't be so bad after all.'
