John woke in the middle of the night to a low growl and realized Sherlock was crouched next to his cot, staring at a shadow on the side of the tent. A high pitched rasping chuckle came from the dragon outside his tent and an obsidian nose snuffled under the tent door. Sherlock let out the most ferocious snarling growl he'd ever heard come from the dragon and the obsidian nose withdrew, the rasping chuckle sounding again before the dragon slowly moved away.
"Who was that?" John asked when the dragon was gone. Sherlock sighed, eyes closing as he shrank into his human form and John tossed his jumpsuit to him as he finished. Sherlock took his time pulling the clothing on then ran a hand through his curls.
"Moriarty," Sherlock finally mumbled, blue eyes glancing up at John. "He's very interested in me for some reason. I haven't yet figured out why." John sat up and started as Sherlock climbed up beside him, pressing into his shoulder.
"Thank you again," John said quietly, trying to break the awkward silence. "For protecting me, for letting me ride, for everything." Sherlock smacked John upside the head with a wing playfully, nuzzling into John's hair and snorting as the hairs tickled him.
"If it wasn't for you I'd be dead," Sherlock said simply as he drew away. He ran a hand through his curls again and got to his feet. "I'm gonna keep watch for a little while, go back to sleep." He stepped forward sliding into his dragon form before John could say anything else and slipped out the door. John scratched his head in confusion but curled back up on his cot, pulling his blanket up around his shoulders.
When John reported to the medical tent the next day Sherlock still hadn't shown up and he was growing slightly worried. General Bowen was waiting for him and John saluted before joining him. He sat on the cot across, smiling softly as he picked up a roll of bandage and started rerolling it.
"What can I do for you sir?" John asked curiously.
"You got quite the reception yesterday Watson," Bowen smiled up at him. "You and Sherlock fly remarkably well together." John smiled thinking of his dragon and worrying slightly about where he'd gotten off to.
"It's all him sir," John chuckled. "I'm just along for the ride."
"Well Watson I'd be happy to have you out more often on missions if you'd be interested," Bowen offered.
"We'd be happy to sir." Bowen got to his feet, straightening his jacket and clapping his hands together.
"If there's anything you ever need, just come ask," Bowen told him with a smile, pushing the tent flap open to reveal Lestrade there waiting for him.
"Sir if I may," John started, making Bowen pause. "I have a dragon question." Bowen gestured for Lestrade to wait and turned back into the tent. "You see..." John started, struggling how to word his question. "Sherlock is very...tactile." He cringed at his own words but he'd already gone this far. "Is your dragon the same?" Bowen smiled warmly and chuckled.
"The thing about dragons is, they're very possessive of what they deem theirs," Bowen explained. "And to them, we are their most prized possessions. They want to keep us for themselves. I understand Sherlock was going to be put down and that's why you chose him?" John nodded, still taking in everything he'd been told. "Then he feels he owes you his life. He'll protect you till his last breath John. Cherish what you have together." John nodded again and Bowen took his leave, patting Lestrade's neck affectionately on his way out. There was no one in the medical tent that day so John dragged a chair out front, stretching out and letting the sun warm his tanned skin. He'd almost dozed off when a shadow blocked out his light. He squinted up and smiled at Sherlock who was in his dragon form still. The dragon chirruped, pushing his face into John's hands asking to be scratched and John complied with a chuckle. Once his itch had been sufficiently scratched Sherlock curled up around John's chair to bask in the sun, even letting John prop his feet up along his back.
The two passed the time together in companionable silence until John's relief arrived, then meandered to the mess tent to grab some dinner. They were stopped several times by people congratulating them still, Sherlock preening at the attention, but still not allowing anyone to touch him. This made John smile softly, it made him feel special that he was the only one allowed to touch the dragon. As he was thinking this, Sherlock pressed into his side, chirruping softly and gestured towards the mess tent.
"I know, I know," John chuckled. They were halfway through their meal when Bowen slipped into the seat across from them. John tried to clamber to his feet quickly but Bowen waved his hand, indicating he should sit back down.
"I've got a mission for you two," he explained softly. "A private mission." Sherlock and John glanced at each other and crowded in closer. "It will be just the two of you. There's a package pickup, two days flight from here. I'll provide you with a map to the pickup location. This is confidential boys, no one but us knows about this." John nodded firmly and Sherlock narrowed his eyes slightly. "Pack your overnight bag, you're heading out in the morning." He got up and disappeared into the crowd as quickly as he'd appeared. John hurriedly ate the rest of his meal, noticing that Sherlock hadn't eaten any more of his and was looking rather put out.
"Come on," John said nudging the dragon with a smile. "Let's go pack." Sherlock snorted in annoyance but got up and headed back towards the tent with John jogging behind him. As soon as they were inside Sherlock was sliding into his human form, turning and piercing John with a glare.
"I don't like this," Sherlock said immediately, putting his hands on his hips. John flushed, scrambling for Sherlock's jumpsuit and trying to hand it to the dragon who knocked it away. "We know nothing about what we're picking up. He's sending us by ourselves. This is dangerous and a death trap."
"Sherlock please," John pleaded, picking up the clothing again. "We'll be fine. Bowen wouldn't send us if he didn't think we could handle it." He urged Sherlock to take the jumpsuit again and it was snatched out of his hands but Sherlock didn't put it on. He stepped right into John's bubble, glaring down at the soldier in annoyance.
"I am not immortal John," he hissed. "I can be killed, there's no guarantee of your protection." John's whole face was flushed as Sherlock stared down at him and realized he'd gripped the sleeve of John's jacket tightly. "Please do not do this mission," he pleaded, eyes softening.
"I...I have to Sherlock," John stammered. "I can't tell him no, he's my commander." Sherlock sighed, pressing his forehead against John's, eyes closing.
"I'll pack the bags," Sherlock finally grumbled, pulling away and yanking on his jumpsuit. John stumbled back, plopping down into his cot and watching in silence as Sherlock gathered the things they'd need. Not knowing what else to do John grabbed his blanket, curling up and facing the wall of the tent. He might as well get an early night if they were heading out in the morning. He was almost fully asleep when a warm body slid into the cot behind him, nose nuzzling between his shoulder blades. He smiled softly and fell into blissful darkness.