Molly Hooper had a most unusual problem that needed solving. But she knew she was going to need someone very particular to help her out.

For this was no ordinary, run-of-the-mill type situation. It required someone who could look outside the box in order to find the solution.

She then remembered hearing rumours about a man who had made a career out of specialising in the type of cases that were beyond the scope of Scotland Yard. The type of problems generally categorised as surprising, funny or odd. It was also said that he defended those regarded as different.

And that was precisely the type of man she needed.

As she set out for Baker Street, she could only hope that all she had heard about him turned out to be true.

BAKER STREET, LONDON, W1

Making her way along Baker Street, Molly began to have second thoughts.

Her story was just too incredible, and completely unimaginable to comprehend. Why would anyone, let alone one purported to be of the calibre of Sherlock Holmes believe anything she had to say.

As she approached the famed detectives address, she was overwhelmed by a need to turn tail and go back the way she had come, when she became aware of something taking place from the upper level flat. An inhuman roar filled with agony and despair filled her ears, followed by the unmistakable whoosh of expelled flame.

These sounds were music to Molly's ears. Everything might be all right after all.

221B BAKER STREET

Molly made her way up the stairs. As she reached the landing she could hear down below the landlady making preparations for breakfast. She was also aware of the presence in the upper flat.

As she walked over to the already open door, she saw that her conclusions about the detective were spot on. Pride, arrogance and a supreme sense of his own superiority over others had led to him being currently in the process of transforming into a dragon.

He was still in the dragon-kind midpoint stage of his transformation.

And he clearly wasn't happy about it.

"What exactly is the point of you?" the exasperated question was directed at the wings he was attempting to get out of his way, having still not yet learned how to control them.

His predicament brought a smile to Molly's lips, as she noted cheerily. "Wings are quite handy actually. They allow you to fly."

There was barely any warning, just a snap and a flick, and then the sensation of a dragon's tail wrapping itself around her, before she was lifted in the air and held up for inspection.

With his head cocked to the side, Sherlock took his time to peruse the woman, his gaze taking inventory of everything about her, head to toe.

Lifting her even higher, he queried curiously. "And who might you be, may I ask?"

"Molly Hooper," Molly responded.

Sherlock frowned, something wasn't adding up. Leaning forward, he sniffed her cautiously. Pulling back, he appraised her once again.

"You appear human," he sniffed her again carefully to confirm his assessment. "Yet you don't smell like one."

Unwise as it was to look a dragon in the eye, Molly felt confident enough that Sherlock wasn't aware of that particular power as yet, to do precisely that. "You're right," she answered honestly. "I'm not human, I'm fae. Or at least I was."

"By fae, you mean as in fairy?"

Molly nodded.

"And why does a fairy require the services of a Consulting Detective, pray tell?"

"I was placed under a curse by..."

Before she could finish her explanation, Sherlock had already made his mind up.

"Boring!" he pronounced, and promptly threw her across the room.

Thanks to her still reasonably quick reflexes, Molly managed to ensure that she landed safely on the sofa.

Getting to her feet, she decided she'd had enough of his attitude, whether human or dragon, Molly was about to give Sherlock a piece of her mind when an outraged 'yelps' had her rushing over to see what the problem was.

His transformation thus far had taken place while he had been sleeping. But now he was seeing it in action, and the visual, let alone the sensation had Sherlock as close as he'd ever come to an all out panic attack as he observed and felt claws and talons replacing his finger and toenails.

"What the hell, this cannot be happening?"

Molly heard the panic in his voice, and made her way over to him. She placed her hands firmly on his shoulders. "Sherlock, you need to calm down," she instructed. "Take deep even breaths, and concentrate on the thought 'retract.'"

Sherlock does as she suggests, and to his surprise, and great relief his fingers and toes return to normal.

Molly stepped back.

"Will that work to get rid of the rest of all this?" he asked, his question showing true vulnerability.

"No," Molly replied. "A stronger magic is required to reverse such a transformation."

'What type of stronger magic, like Fairy magic?' It suddenly occurred to the dragonised detective that helping her out would benefit him greatly.

"All right I'll take the case," he announced, making his way towards the doorway.

"Whoa there, where do you think you're going?" Molly enquired.

Sherlock turned back to her, his expression one of annoyance, "To hail a taxi, obviously."

Molly shook her head, as a delightful giggle escaped her lips as she pointed out. "There's no way you'll fit in a taxi, or a train carriage for that matter."

"So what do you suggest we do?" Sherlock huffed out impatiently, a small trickle of smoke emerging from his nostrils.

Molly indicated his newly acquired appendages with a nod of her head. "You fly."

"I don't fly," he huffed indignantly.

"You are Dragon-kind now Sherlock," Molly reminded him, her tone turning serious. "You have wings. It's time you learned to use them."