Chapter 8

They'd consumed the pack of hot dogs relatively quickly in John's opinion. Holding the skewer in his hand as he leaned back against Sherlock's side, he noticed that all remained to remind him of the hot dog's presence were small bits here or there. Sitting up slightly as his stomach rumbled barely, but yet enough that he wanted to claim the hot dog remains, he licked them away before sighing happily and settling against Sherlock again.

Sherlock smiled softly at John as he watched him relax against him once more. He knew that he had been right in instigating this trust exercise. It had helped John to realize that he wasn't a threat. John's biggest threat had been overcoming the fear he had allowed to build up in him. Now that he had let it go, he could see that he was the same man he had known, just in a different form temporarily.

"That was a good supper," commented John as he rolled on to his side slightly to look at Sherlock.

"Yes, it was." Sherlock stared back at John for a second before reaching out a talon and brushing back a strand of hair from his face gently. John didn't shrink away as he did it like he no doubt would have before. Now he was totally unafraid. He know had trust in him. That warmed Sherlock's heart completely.

John looked at Sherlock, feeling guilt gnaw at him as he lost himself in Sherlock's golden eyes. He had been afraid of a dragon, yes, but he shouldn't have been afraid of a dragon that proved to be his best friend. He had been so very foolish in being scared of him. He knew that he owed Sherlock a massive apology.

"Sherlock, about earlier when I shut myself up in my room and then re-emerged hours later with armor…"

Sherlock shook his head slightly, moving his talon away from John's face again to rest on his arms.

"Please, John. Don't worry about it. It's forgiven. You were just acting on the immediate knowledge and not allowing your brain any time to logically react."

"Why didn't you talk like this when I first encounter you? I would have known you were Sherlock right then. That was so a Sherlock statement."

Sherlock chuckled then, rolling his eyes as he watched a smile overtake John's face.

"Oh, was it now? I didn't realize my statements were something that were so easy to pick out."

"Oh please. You must know! You're always trying to use your expansive vocabulary to knock the socks off me."

Sherlock's eyes momentarily turned to look at John's bare and hairy feet.

"Apparently quite literally," he said as both of them started to laugh then.

John laid his head against Sherlock's side, humming a bit as he became sleepy. Seeing John get sleepy, Sherlock shifted to try to get up, causing John to groan and vainly attempt to wrap his arms about Sherlock's dragon body.

"No, don't move...It's warm here."

"But you're sleepy…"

"I can sleep on the floor tonight…" mumbled John.

Smiling softly, Sherlock draped one of his wings over John so that he could stay warmer and watched as his best friend's eyelids grew a bit heavier.

"John, I have a question to ask you…" said Sherlock softly.

"What is it?" asked John; sleepiness slurring his words together a bit.

"Why did you want to take socks with you when you don't wear them in this form?..."

"Just in case...never hurts to be prepared…"

"Right, right…"

"Quite a silly question, Sherlock…" said John with a sleepy smile. "And here I was…" He paused for a second to let out a yawn, "...thinking you were going to ask if I'd could go away…"

"No…" said Sherlock softly; his voice rumbling in his throat like a gentle giant. "I never would say that. You're my best friend, John, no matter what form I'm in...remember that…"

"Okay…" whispered John softly; his eyelids completely shut by this point.

"Goodnight, John," Sherlock whispered as he watched John's breathing even out and the skewer fall limp in his hands, falling to the floor.

Sherlock fell asleep shortly after John, curled protectively about his best friend's body, ready to protect him against the world.


The next day seemed to fly by the two of them relatively quickly. They wiled away the hours by playing games with one another. Now that John was no longer afraid of Sherlock, the two of them would play childish games of hide-and-seek, or even a rousing round of deductions. No one came by to call upon them, (just as it had been all week per Sherlock's orders), leaving the two of them completely alone to enjoy one another's company.

As the sun set that evening, Sherlock wandered over to the curtained window and pulled it back slightly to watch the sun disappear behind the buildings, casting their elongated shadows across the ground. John was currently slouched upon the sofa, throwing a hacky sack up at the ceiling. He had discovered the hacky sack in the closet during one of the rounds of hide-and-seek earlier in the day and now seemed completely fascinated by it.

"I have an idea on what we should do this evening," piped up Sherlock, letting the curtain fall back into place.

"Oh? And what might that be?" asked John as the hacky sack came to rest in his hands once more.

"Lets go for a flight about London," suggested Sherlock, smiling mischievously; the very suggestion making his blood pulsate.

Hearing the suggestion, John sat bolt upright on the couch and stared at Sherlock incredulously.

"You can't be serious? That isn't a good idea at all! We could get caught! People could see us!"

"Nonsense," said Sherlock, allowing his wings to fan out slightly in an attempt to stretch them. "I'll just fly up higher so that the night consumes us."

John chewed his lower lip as he looked at Sherlock. He had to admit that the idea of flying about on a dragon's back at night in London was not only terrifying, but exciting as well. The logical part of him was telling him to refuse Sherlock's suggestion and help to brainstorm an alternative, while the impulsive, adventure seeker in him was telling him to take a worthwhile risk. Sighing, John slowly rose to his feet, dropping the hacky sack by his feet on the floor.

"Alright," said John with a small smile. "Lets do it."

Sherlock, happy that John was on board with his idea, smiled widely at him.

"We'll just wait another hour or so until it's darker," said Sherlock. "Then we can take a flight."

John nodded, trying to shut the logical part of him up. What was the real harm in one flight about London? What were really the odds of anything bad happening?

If only John had listened to the logical side of him. Yet once more, it was tuned out and pushed aside, leaving both of them to face what was to come of their actions.