So...this happened last night. I need to stop starting stories. But I had an idea, a little too much late-night caffeine to escape from bad dreams, and this weird thing happened. This an alternate universe where some people are sorcerers and some of them have familiars. Sherlock is a sorcerer who is lonely and come across an abused familiar, John. He rescues him and bonds with him.
Sherlock picked the lock quickly and efficiently. No need to get the police involved as this was not so much a case as a favor to his brother Mycroft. A small time sorcerer, more of a magician, was causing trouble by robbing banks using magic. Mycroft had asked Sherlock to catch him, being much more powerful, before the police did. Even a weak sorcerer could take on a few regulars. And they did not need some greedy idiot reigniting the Salem with hunts.
The lock gave way under Sherlock's careful movements and the door swung open. A quick flick of his fingers disarmed the security system inside and another closed the door. Sherlock pulled out a flashlight and began searching the upstairs flat. Deductions started.
Lives alone, only child. Right handed but occasionally does thing left-handed. Heavy drinker but not alcoholic yet. Owes money to...two, no three people, thousand of dollars each. Preparing to leave for a tropical place, hasn't decided on specifics yet. Owns...a dog
That was unexpected. All indicators showed that this man disliked animals and lacked the empathy with which to care for one. His deductions continued.
Familiar? Possible.
Sherlock made his way to the basement flat, wary of the unfamiliar surroundings. The unknown factor of a familiar was something that gave him pause, but not nearly enough to make him turn and run. He could feel the power of some wardings on the door to the flat, and he ran his hand over them, easily undoing them.
"Amateur," Sherlock muttered. Whatever was behind this door, the suspect didn't want it found. The door opened and Sherlock stopped, shining his flashlight inside. A small figure huddled in the far corner, covering their head with bound hands. Sherlock noticed offhandedly that there was a food dish (empty) and a another bowl most likely for water (also empty). And tons of dog hair, on every surface. But the figure in the corner was obviously human, male, and...upon a closer, completely naked except for a collar. He closed the door behind him and sealed it with a simple spell.
Sherlock approached the figure carefully, turning the overhead light on as he did. The young man was smaller than Sherlock, approximately 5'6", pale skin and blonde hair that was dirty. Bruises littered his bare skin, and the collar around his neck was a cheap dog collar that looked too tight. As Sherlock stopped a few feet away, he saw the binding warding on the man's shoulder, a raw red symbol that looked more like a fresh branding. It was a symbol that forcibly bound a familiar to the sorcerer that put it there, something that was quite painful for the familiar and quite illegal to perform. Sherlock examined him for awhile longer. Finally, two terrified blue eyes lifted to meet his.
"What is your name?" Sherlock asked, reaching towards him. The young man tried to curl more into the wall than he already was, whimpering. Sherlock retracted his hand. "It's alright. I won't hurt you. I won't even touch you without your permission. I promise."
John lifted his tear-stained face, seemingly judging whether or not to trust this tall man with the long black coat and blue scarf, and took in his piercing stare.
"John." He whispered. "My name is John."
"Ok, John." Sherlock felt his phone buzz in his pocket and ignored. "My name is Sherlock. I'm here for the man that lives here."
"My...master..." John seemed to struggle with the word. "He's coming back. He's just...a few minutes away."
"Alright." Sherlock sat down on the ground, still three feet away. "So you're his familiar, that's how you sense his location."
John nodded.
"Do you know what he's been doing?" Sherlock asked. John's eyes darted to the door, as if expecting to see his master there. "It's alright, you don't need to be afraid of him."
"Why?" John asked, a glint of accusation in his eyes. Ah, Sherlock thought. He was betrayed, sold on the black market. Sherlock's chest tightened at that. Familiars magnified a sorcerer's power's and also provided companionship, shifting between human form and animal. They were supposed to choose who they bonded to, and stay bonded for life with that person. It was said that when a familiar met the right person, they just knew. Like love at first sight. Recently though, familiars were being sold in secret to the highest bidder.
"I won't let him hurt you anymore, if that's what you're wondering." Sherlock stated, realizing it was true as he was saying it. John looked at him, as if for the first time.
"But he might tell me to hurt you." John whispered. "I'm bonded to him."
"I can undo that. I am far more powerful than he is." Sherlock said, somewhat smugly. "I will release you, if you wish. I can protect you."
"Why would you help me?" John asked, his sad blue eyes refusing to look hopeful.
"I don't know. I want to." Sherlock shrugged. "Also, I have been hired by my brother to bring this half-rate sorcerer to him before he manages to reveal the secret world of sorcerers, causing the regulars to hunt us down one by one and kill us. Or at least, try to kill us." Suddenly John tensed and let a fearful sound.
"He's here!" John started hyperventilating. "He's here, don't let him-"
"John, breathe!" Sherlock said, snapping John's focus back onto him. Above them, they heard a door open and then hurried footsteps on the stairs. "Do you want me to reverse the binding?" John paused, looking panicked. Then he nodded. Sherlock reached a hand out gently and placed it on the angry red branding that bonded John to his master.
John sucked in a breath as Sherlock closed his eyes and scrunched his face in concentration. His grip on John's arm tightened and John could feel the chains inside him loosening, falling away one by one. Sherlock's eyes opened suddenly and the light above them glowed brightly and exploded. John cried out as a flash of fire wracked his frame with pain, and then he slumped against the man who had just freed him. Sherlock quickly untied John's wrists, listening as the sorcerer outside pounded on the door, unable to overcome Sherlock's spell. Sherlock rolled his eyes. It must have sapped this idiot's strength for weeks after binding John to himself.
Suddenly, Sherlock found that he was holding a dog instead of a man, John's animal form, a lovely brown Australian Shepard, smaller than average with the same sad blue eyes. At least, Sherlock assumed he was lovely, his brown fur was dirty and matted. John nuzzled Sherlock's hand.
Sherlock stood, placing himself between John and the door, and removed the spell. The door flew open and the man fell into the room. Sherlock smiled icily.
"I'm Sherlock Holmes. We need to talk."
So um...review?