The next time a guard walked past John asked "Where have you taken Sherlock?"
"None of your business, thief." The guard replied irritably.
"Why did you call him Dragonborn? Is it true? Is he a Dragonborn?" John persisted. He needed answers.
"Yes, he is the Dragonborn. He is the only one who can truly stop the dragons. Too bad he is extremely dangerous and untrustworthy." The guard pondered.
"What do you mean?"
"I don't have to tell you." The guard spat, turning to do another round of the cells.
"Well that man has been helping you a lot by the sounds of it, so why do you keep him locked up like this?"
"That is not your business. Now be quiet before I sew your mouth shut."
John had never been so bored in his life. Sherlock wasn't even there to talk to. He knew barely anything about the man, but at least he could have a conversation with him, unlike the guards. They wouldn't understand about the problems of the people. All they had to do was stand around and get paid for it. A lot.
Finally, the dungeon door was swung open again, and Sherlock was dragged back into his cell and thrown to the ground, the cell door being slid across and padlocked quickly.
"Calm down, men, I'm safe." He smirked, and the guards hustled away quickly.
Sherlock looked into John's cell. "Boring, isn't it?"
"Very." John replied, sighing heavily.
"I could escape you know." Sherlock spoke in a hushed tone. "But they know exactly who I am. Maybe you could get out. I could tell you how."
"I don't know… anyway, if I was to get out, I'd bring you with me." John said in barely more than a whisper.
Sherlock smiled for the first time that John has seen. "Why would you?"
"Well, look at how they treat you." John paused. "Is it true that you're a Dragonborn?"
Sherlock broke his gaze to John. "Yes." He muttered.
"I've only heard the stories about them, but I won't judge by them. Tell me what a Dragonborn can do." John said, eager to know why the guards would give up their pride for this lanky man.
"Well, Dragonborn can speak the tongue of dragons. Also, after we slay a dragon, we absorb their soul and gain their power."
John sat in awe. "Wow. What is the tongue of dragons?"
"Well, you know when dragons breathe fire or ice in battle?" Sherlock began.
"Yes."
"Well, to them, that's not a physical battle; not really. It's a battle of words." Sherlock paused, thinking of his next sentence. "When they speak their language, it's like they're casting a spell, which causes their fire or frost breath. So when I speak in the language of the dragons, I can use those powers."
"You mean you can breathe fire?" John asked, astounded.
"In a sense, yes. But it nearly always ends badly." Sherlock smirked.
"That's all great and everything, but why do they keep you locked up like this when you're the only one who can stop the dragons? Why do they keep you in this dirty cell, and treat you like manure?"
Sherlock gave a dark look. They fear I will hurt people. They're 'keeping everybody safe' as they say."
"What, they think you'd use your Dragonborn powers on people?"
Sherlock stayed silent for a few seconds. "No," he said slowly.
"What then? What's the reason they do this?"
"It probably is best. I'm not safe. If I stay in here, I can't hurt anyone." Sherlock said sadly, and a sat on his wooden frame bed."
John would have questioned further, but he saw that Sherlock didn't like to talk about the subject, whatever it was. Maybe when he trusted him more, he would tell him.