Hello everyone! Happy Saturday. Enjoy the weekend while you can. The final episode of Series 3 airs tomorrow night. From what I've heard you'll want plenty of shock blankets and tissues handy.

InvisibleBlade: Sherlock
Me: John, shop owner, random hospital staff

There are no warnings for this chapter except for maybe some feels. Enjoy!

'Earth is a strange place,' Sherlock mused out loud as he came to land behind John. 'And you are a very strange human being.' He observed John carefully. 'You are full of doubts and self hatred, and you're unbelievably insecure. And yet, at the same time, you are grounded and down-to-Earth. You seem caught between sadness, anger, and peace. It's very confusing.'

'Thank you?' John said, observing Sherlock's wings as they stretched and relaxed against him. God they were magnificent. But he wasn't gay and he wasn't a Winger, so he forced himself to look away.

'You are welcome.' Sherlock tilted his head, eyeing John up. 'You are a puzzle. I do intend to solve you. It shall quench some of my boredom doing that at least.'

'Well I'm glad to be a source of entertainment,' John sighed, staring across the green hill and purposefully not at Sherlock.

'I didn't mean it like that. It's just... you're rather interesting for a human.'

'Well, I suppose that's better than an idiotic, suicidal one,' John sighed. 'Do you still want to go on that walk? And do you eat human food? Or do you not eat at all?'

'I do not eat human food. I have no need to. It's utterly revolting!' Sherlock pulled a face of disgust.

'Oh. OK. So... do you guys have special angel or Heaven food or whatever that you all eat?'

'Nope. I have no need to eat. This vessel is merely for transport. I do not need to give in to its needs.'

'Is that a smart thing to do?' John asked, turning to look back at Sherlock. He had his wings tucked up behind his back but his muscles still twitched from his flight.

'Was holding a gun to your head a smart thing to do?' Sherlock retorted.

'Point taken.' John stood and stretched. 'So, shall we go? I told my mum I was going to eat so would you mind if I got a sandwich or something?'

'Yes, if we really have to. But be quick about it. I'm bored already.'

'Wow you bore easily. Are all angels like this?' John asked as he began walking towards a little sandwich shop.

'Nope. Just me. I'm one of a kind,' Sherlock replied bluntly.

'Great. I get the arse for an angel,' John grumbled.

'Perhaps I got stuck with an arse of a human!' Sherlock growled.

'Fuck you,' John spat. He clenched his hands into fists and stomped the rest of the way to the shop. The owner took one look at him and sat him in a corner booth, handing him a glass of cool water.

'Bad day, John?' he asked.

'Quite,' John mumbled, looking at Sherlock who was still standing outside. 'I got my angel today.'

'Oh?' The owner turned to look in the direction John was glaring. 'Oh. He's... Um.'

'Exactly,' John sighed. 'And he's a right git too.'

'How about I get you your regular and it'll be on me since you got your angel? But hey, think of it this way: your life can't get any worse now that he's around.'

'You just keep thinking that,' John grumbled as the owner walked away. 'I think it's about to get a lot more frustrating.'

Sherlock stared into the shop with big, sad eyes. His heart suddenly felt too heavy for his chest. Anger coursed through his veins. He had bloody saved John's life and this was how he was repaid? He'd been kicked out of heaven, bound to a human, and now what? The human didn't even want him. Sherlock turned and fled, flying off. Screw it! He was obviously unwanted.

Humans are idiots, he though to himself. Utter idiots.

He needed to clear his head. A good long fly ought to do it.

John watched Sherlock fly off, abandoning him. Good fucking riddance. The angel clearly didn't like the idea of being bound any more than John did. He bit harshly into his sandwich as he stewed over his angel abandoning him already.

Sherlock flew for miles, his huge black wings flapping silently in the wind. It wasn't long however before Sherlock began to feel strange, a little weak. What was wrong? Why was the ground jumping up at him? Oh. Perhaps it wasn't the ground. Perhaps it was him. Oh dear lord. Damn vessel needed food. He didn't have much time to react, or to do anything really. He hit the ground with a loud crack and everything turned black.

John cried out and clutched his head and arm painfully. His vision was swimming, pain shooting throughout his body. The owner of the shop came over, asking if everything was OK.

'Sherlock,' John grit out. 'My angel. I think he's hurt. How can I possibly know that?'

'You two are connected now. If you're apart he can tell when you're distressed and so can you for him.'

'Wish I'd known that before. Ugh!' He clutched his arm tight and leaned forward slightly, taking some pressure off his back. 'I think he fell out of the sky. Can... Can you go look for him? Someone? Please?' John passed out from pain before anyone could answer, but the shop owner moved to make a call to John's mum as well as the local police department.

...::-::...

When Sherlock awoke he was in hospital. Ugh. Hospitals. How dull. He tugged at the wires he was attached to and groaned.

'Fuck. Get me out of here!'

'Stop pulling at them you bloody idiot,' John said, scowling. 'You broke your arm when you fell and your skull took a pretty nasty beating as well. And your wings are bruised but otherwise fine. You might want to preen or something to clean your feathers.'

'Ugh. What are you doing here? I thought you wanted nothing to do with me?' Sherlock groaned loudly.

'I could say the same for you,' John grumbled. 'But my mum told me I needed to be here seeing as you're my guardian and all that. So, here I am.'

Sherlock groaned. 'Everything fucking hurts,' he complained. 'Can't they give me something for the pain?'

'They did. And your angel body burned through it all too damn quick. Don't you guys heal faster than humans anyway? You should be fine in, like, a week.'

Sherlock whined and rolled onto his side, wincing visibly. 'Hurts,' he choked out weakly. 'How do humans cope with pain?'

'We don't,' John said bluntly. 'Why do you think so many people commit suicide each year?'

'Wish I could fucking end it. But it isn't so easy for an angel to die.'

'So I've heard,' John sighed. 'And why do you want to die, if I may ask?'

'Because I am, in effect, a slave. I am bound to strict rules. I cannot love. I cannot leave my assigned human. I cannot drink or have fun. I can't feel. I am a slave. I have been from the moment I was created. Death would bring me freedom.'

John frowned. Was being an angel really that bad?

'Look, I'm sorry you're under such strict rules to guard me, but I don't want you around twenty-four-seven any more than you want to be. So I'll allow you to come and go as you please. You give me my space and I'll give you yours.'

'That sounds reasonable,' Sherlock said, nodding. 'I shall try my best to stay out of your life as much as possible.'

'Look, I didn't mean it like that,' John sighed. 'I just meant that, for the time being, while you're healing, I'll give you your space and maybe we can chat or something. I'd like to get to know my angel a bit. I mean, if you're supposed to watch out for me now, I'd like to know who will be saving me, you know? And after that you can roam free and fly wherever and explore Earth and whatnot. You don't have to be glued to my side like most other angels are to their humans. But occasionally I may call for you when I feel I need you and so I'd like you to show up if I need your help or something. That's all I ask. We don't have to be like other bound human-angel pairs. We can be better than all that mushy gushy crap.'

'You think that you can beat the system?' he asked. 'OK. We can try.' He laughed but it turned out into a cry of pure agony as pain shot through him.

'Whoa, whoa, whoa,' John said softly, reaching out to pull Sherlock onto his back. He made sure to avoid jostling his wings, which were sprawled down over the bed and on the floor. Slings had been set up for them, but they refused to stay in them. Stubborn like the angel they belonged to.

'Try not to jostle your arm or chest,' John said softly, still touching Sherlock's unbroken arm, subconsciously noting how warm he was. 'Your ribs are cracked and your arm was broken in three different places. You're lucky you aren't human, otherwise you'd probably be crippled for the rest of your life or dead after a fall like that.'

'Mmm,' Sherlock groaned. 'My brother's gonna kill me. He's always badgering on about how my stupid vessel needs food to s-survive. Oh god. Everything hurts so fucking much.' He squeezed his eyes tightly shut.

'Shhh, Sherlock. Just breathe. Focus on breathing,' John said softly, squeezing Sherlock's unbroken bicep gently. 'Try to take your mind off the pain. Tell me about your brother. What's he like?'

Sherlock grit his teeth together and tried to concentrate on his breathing. 'He's a bloody arsehole. But that's siblings for you.'

'I agree with you there.' John laughed softly. 'My sister's a bitch, but she's family. Do you have any other siblings? Or are all angels technically related since you guys are all created by God?'

Sherlock shrugged. 'I don't really pay attention to the workings of heaven but I suppose we are technically all brothers. Mycroft is the worst though. Utter bastard.'

'Is he one of those angels who thinks he's the boss of everyone?' John smirked.

'Oh. You've met him?' Sherlock joked. 'Pompous idiot thinks he owns Heaven and Earth.'

'Doesn't that go against God's power or something?' John asked. 'And I wasn't sure angels could swear. Doesn't that go against the purity of Heaven or some crap?' He covered his mouth with his hand and gasped softly. 'I'm sorry. I don't mean to question so much about Heaven and all that. I just... I've had my doubts. My parents don't have their angels yet and neither does my sister. I don't know what's OK or not to ask you.'

'It's fine,' Sherlock reassured John. 'Do you wanna know what I think? I think God doesn't exist. I think that it's just us angels up there, constantly fighting each other for power. And to be quite honest I don't give a fuck about the rules. Any of them really.'

'Wait... Are you... are you an atheist angel?'

'Yup.' Sherlock nodded. 'I suppose I am. Problem?'

'No, actually.' John smiled. 'No problem at all. It's a relief actually. I thought when I got my angel he or she would be strictly religious and all that crap. Frankly, despite the angels around us, I'm an atheist too. But don't tell my mum. She thinks I'm a good Christian boy.'

'If only she knew,' Sherlock chuckled. 'What did she have to say about me? Did you tell her why you got me?'

'I had to,' John said softly, looking away. 'How else was I supposed to explain why I blacked out when you fell? I felt your pain, you know. We're connected already. And she cried when I explained and held me a little too tight, but she had good reason to ya know? She wished I had gotten my angel under better circumstances, but it is what it is. She seemed to like you enough when she was here earlier. Said you looked like a kind soul.'

'Me? Kind? I have no idea where she got that idea from,' Sherlock huffed. 'I am far from kind.' He bit his lip and looked at John apologetically. 'Though I am sorry you felt my pain.'

'It's fine. Once you were unconscious I couldn't feel it anymore.' John shrugged nonchalantly and sat in the chair by the bed. 'Though I did tell her that from my first impression you didn't seem very kind. Stubborn and thick-headed. She didn't believe me though. Said all angels seemed that way when they first touched down to Earth. She said we'll both soften eventually and start to like each other a bit more. Maybe even become good friends. Which, if I'm honest, I could really use right now.'

Sherlock cocked his head and hummed. 'I've never had a friend before.'

'Never? Not even in Heaven?' John asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Sherlock shook his head. 'Never.'

'I'm sorry to hear that,' John said with a frown. 'Do you think maybe we could be friends? Egos aside and all that of course.' He smirked.

'If you can put up with me being a dick... then yeah.' Sherlock smiled softly. 'I would like that.'

'Just don't bully me and I think we'll get along fine,' John sighed sadly. 'Sorry. I didn't mean– Sorry.'

Sherlock frowned. 'I'm not going to bully you. I am here to stop the bullies.'

'Only the bullies?' John asked, looking up at his angel. 'Are you going to leave as soon as they stop bullying me? Is that how these things work? Or are you actually bound to me for life now?'

'For life,' Sherlock stated, his voice surprisingly soft. 'I am to protect you from everything. Right now I have to protect you from yourself.'

'Right. OK. Um...' He looked away briefly before his gaze flickered to Sherlock's black wings. He traced their shape with his eyes, soaking them in. They were absolutely beautiful and the first pair of wings he'd laid eyes on. The two angels he'd met prior had had their wings tucked inside their clothes. But he imagined Sherlock's wings had them beat. His wingspan was quite impressive, he'd guess maybe fourteen or fifteen feet from tip to tip, and each feather looked like it'd been dipped in black ink, the old kind people used to write with. They were absolutely gorgeous and the most impressive and beautiful he'd ever laid eyes on.

Sherlock watched John watching him curiously. 'Are you really fascinated by them that much?' He took a deep breath. 'Would you like to touch them?' he asked apprehensively. He hated people touching his wings. The black feathers ruffled slightly as his muscles twitched beneath them in agitation.

'I've never seen an angel's wings before,' John said softly. 'They're amazing.' He looked up at Sherlock briefly and smiled softly, his eyes dancing. 'May I touch them? Would you really let me?'

'You may. Just take it slowly. I don't like people touching them and I don't want to accidently lash out at you.'

'Right. Yeah. Makes sense.' John moved forward slowly, watching Sherlock for any signs of agitation. He slowly reached a hand out to stroke along the humerus of Sherlock's wing, feeling the muscles tense and ripple beneath his hand.

'Wow,' he breathed out softly, smiling brightly. He slowly moved down to the radius and then stroked down a patch of feathers, mesmerised by how soft they felt beneath his fingers. Almost like silk.

Sherlock's wing twitched upwards and curled as though trying to shake John's hand. Sherlock smiled and hummed.

'Actually, it's not too bad. A little weird but... mmm. Nice.'

John laughed softly and continued to stroke the feathers. He hoped one day he would be graced with one. A feather from an angel was the greatest gift of all. It was a sign of trust, loyalty, and a strong bond. Perhaps, in time, he and Sherlock could achieve such a bond. Sherlock let his eyes close, completely exhausted and content.

'Don't stop. So good,' he purred, his wing softening to John's touches and curling around his arm.

John flushed and continued stroking Sherlock's feathers, allowing the wing to pull him closer. Sherlock's wing twitched further and dragged John close. One of them splayed out to caress John's face gently. John couldn't stop the soft moan that escaped his lips at the wing's caress. He closed his eyes and leant into the touch, ignoring the tightening in his trousers.

I'm not a Winger, I'm not a Winger, I'm not a Winger.

Maybe I am a Winger.

No! I'm not!

But maybe–

No!

He popped his eyes open and pulled away from Sherlock hastily, covering up his blatant arousal with his hands.

'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,' he apologised profusely. 'I just... I'm a virgin and horny all the time and everything was so soft and–'

Sherlock snored in reply, fast asleep and totally unaware of how his wings had affected John.

Thank god, John breathed out in relief. He stood and hobbled off to a bathroom to take care of his still growing problem. Once he finished he returned to Sherlock's room and curled up on the bench in front of the window, falling asleep to the beeping of his angel's heart monitor.

I'm not sure when the next chapter will be posted, but updates will not be occurring Mondays this time. My Mondays are completely packed from noon to 8 p.m., so I'll be dead at the end of the day. I'm thinking maybe Tuesdays, Thursdays, or Fridays for now. We'll see how it goes. I'll find a rhythm at some point.

We'll see you guys after InvisibleBlade has recovered from the series 3 finale and I've had my viewing party with my friends and we've all recovered as well.

Until next time!

TSA + IB