I apologize for the very long delay, you see I got the box set of seasons 1-8 of Supernatural and it kind of consumed my life. And Destiel man...Destiel is fantastic. I went and saw the new How to Train Your Dragon movie though and that got me back on the dragon train. If you haven't seen it...seriously go. It is amazing, artistically beautiful, made me cry, made me laugh...just pure amazing sauce. Now back to where we left off...
Sherlock had never flown as hard as he was flying now, wings pulling at air, diving, paws outstretched desperately for John's falling body. 'The stupid dolt' he growled to himself. 'Should've said he couldn't fly.' Sherlock desperately snapped his wings back, pinning them against his body in a rocketing dive. They were about a hundred feet above the ground when his paw caught a hold of John's jacket and he snapped his wings open. An air current caught him, pushing him higher as he scrambled for a better hold on John. He pumped his wings once, twice, then glided toward the nearest clearing. He dropped John gently to the ground, coming to land a little further forward then rushed toward the prone man, changing as he went. He shrugged the harnesses off and turned John over, pressing his ear to his chest fearfully. "Passed out," he grumbled, cradling John more gingerly against him. "Stupid idiot." John's eyes fluttered open at the growl and he looked up at Sherlock in confusion.
"What happened? I thought we were flying," John muttered, eyes closing again.
"You passed out and fell off!" Sherlock snapped. "You almost died!"
"Oh..." John mumbled. "Sorry."
"Sorry?" Sherlock shrieked. "You almost die and you're sorry!" John winced, hands moving to massage his temples delicately.
"I didn't realize I'd smacked my head on the ground so hard," he explained, looking up at Sherlock with wide eyes. "It was your brother that attacked me." Sherlock huffed, scooping his other arm under John's knees and getting to his feet in one swift movement. John started at the sudden movement and threw his arms around Sherlock's neck to hold on. "W-what are you doing?" John stuttered then flushed when he realized Sherlock was still naked.
"Finding cover so we can set up camp for the night," Sherlock said simply, heading toward the tree line. John slowly relaxed, leaning his cheek against the dragon's warm shoulder as he walked. Sherlock finally found a cave and kicked some brush into a pile to lay John on, the pine needles forming a cushioned bed. Sherlock sat up him down gently, hand ghosting over his hair. John let his eyes flutter closed and felt the press of lips against his brow before he let sleep take him.
Sherlock made his way back to the mouth of the cave, sliding into his dragon form and taking off back toward the clearing to gather their things.
When John woke again the sky outside the cave was dark and a fire was burning nearby, warming the small space. Sherlock was in his human form lounging against the rock wall, thankfully wearing clothes again. His blue eyes were watching John carefully, yet he remained completely relaxed. John sat up slowly, glad to see that the dizziness was gone and scooted closer to the fire where a plate of food was waiting for him.
"Thanks," John mumbled as he started shoveling food into mouth. Sherlock only nodded, eyes closing in contemplation. "What time is it?" he asked after swallowing a mouthful.
"About 4 in the morning," Sherlock replied without opening his eyes. "We should probably leave soon if you're feeling up to it so we can make up lost time." John nodded, shoveling the rest of the food in his mouth and getting to his feet to check his balance. He felt a lot better after the rest and food and dug a couple pain pills out to push away the hint of a headache, ignoring the icy eyes watching his every move. He shoved everything back into the bags, securing them closed again and picked up Sherlock's harnesses from nearby.
"Ready to get strapped in?" he asked the dragon who got to his feet and stepped closer. Sherlock moved into John's personal space, staring intently down at him.
"Are you sure you can do this?" he asked John seriously, hand reaching out to run through John's shaggy hair. John found himself leaning into the hand without realizing it and Sherlock smiled softly, thumb stroking the man's cheek bone.
"I'll be okay," John promised, meeting Sherlock's eyes. Sherlock dropped his hand to John's shoulder, pressed his lips to John's forehead a moment then stepped away, sliding into his dragon form before John had fully realized what had happened. Sherlock stood at the cave entrance waiting patiently for John to put the harnesses on, securing bags and saddle, his cheeks flushed pink. As John climbed up Sherlock swatted their fire out with a smack of his tail and headed out into the night. Once the soldier was situated Sherlock was in the air, enjoying the crisp breeze, wings stretching and pulling rhythmically. John sat comfortably, holding the handle in front of him as they climbed higher. They broke through the clouds and the stars shimmered overhead, giving just enough light to gleam off of Sherlock's dark scales. John ran a hand over the scales absentmindedly and felt the vibration of a pleased purr underneath him. He smiled softly and settled in for a long haul.
The sun had been up for several hours and was getting close to directly overhead when Sherlock started to descend once more. John peered around curiously as they dropped below the clouds and noticed a small village in the distance.
"Is that where we're going?" John asked. Sherlock chirruped in what sounded like a positive and angled down into his descent. John leaned back, balancing himself in the saddle as Sherlock bounded across the ground, coming to a stop. John slid from his back, shaking out stiff limbs and heading toward the village. Sherlock stuck close to his side, wings hanging half open as if prepared to take off at any moment. As they drew close 3 men appeared on the road at the entrance, standing with crossed arms. John stopped about 20 feet from the men, Sherlock growling softly beside him.
"We're here to pick up a package," John said loud enough for them to hear. He reached very slowly into his chest pocket for the letter Bowen had given him and held it out for the men to take. The one in the center stepped forward, a sword hanging loosely at his side and snatched the letter from John's hand, eyeing Sherlock nervously.
"Is he tame?" the man asked gruffly, gesturing at the dragon. Sherlock snarled in response, baring his teeth.
"Enough," John shrugged, patting Sherlock's neck. "Are you going to bring me the package?" The man glanced through the letter a second, then gestured for the two men behind him. They came forward and John realized that one carried a package roughly the size of a melon. John reached out and wrapped his fingers around the string holding the box closed and pulled his hand back quickly. The men didn't move to leave so John backed away, depositing the package in one of Sherlock's packs and tying it closed securely. He stepped into the stirrup and hoisted himself up as Sherlock started backing up. The dragon growled one last time then with a firm flap they shot into the air, gaining altitude quickly.
John relaxed as they ascended into the cloud cover, patting Sherlock's neck comfortingly. "We made it," he murmured, pressing his hand against the warm expanse of shoulder next to his knee. Sherlock grumbled, the vibration passing through John's hand and making him smile. His joy was short lived as a blast of heat slammed into them and white hot pain shot through his leg. He clutched the handle in front of him as Sherlock shrieked and lurched, wings beating the air frantically as he looked around for their attacker. A jet black streak went flying overhead and Sherlock immediately snapped his wings in, diving away from the danger.
He went careening into the forest canopy, smashing into a thick limb, wings arched back protectively around John. When they finally stopped moving John was barely hanging on to the saddle. Blood was seeping down his leg and Sherlock's scales were scorched with ash around his leg. John carefully slid down on to the wide branch, clinging to Sherlock's harness as he chirruped frantically. Once John was sitting against the trunk Sherlock quickly shrank, wings arching high over his head protectively.
"John!" he squeaked out as soon as he was able, scrambling closer. John smiled dazedly up at the dragon, clutching his leg tightly against him. "let me see," he said firmly, dragging one of the med packs closer. John's eyes closed tightly, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye. Sherlock pried his hands away and took in the painfully burnt and blistered skin. It was bleeding sluggishly, and the burns were most likely 3rd degree but John would live. He tried not to sigh in relief and instead ripped the rest of the pants leg open, cutting it off above the wound. He found burn ointment next to a bottle of pain medication and handed both over to John along with some clean bandages. "Will you be all right? The dragon asked, getting to his feet and stretching his wings.
"I think so, what are you doing?" John asked, but Sherlock didn't answer only slid into his dragon form, nostrils flaring and eyes narrowing up at the sky. He pumped his wings a couple times making sure everything was in one piece then nuzzled against John gingerly. He took one last long look at the soldier then shot into the air, disappearing quickly. John tried not to hyperventilate as he tended to his leg. Sherlock was a more than capable dragon, he'd seen it himself at the camp that the man could hold his own. But now here he was, alone in the jungle, didn't know where the hell he was, with a very injured leg and a still injured shoulder. "Please come back," he pleaded.