I think it is sunlight that I miss the most, cooped up in this tiny airless room; the feel of its warmth on my skin and its soft golden light. I have no idea how long I have been locked up in here but since I have been imprisoned here Sherlock has never visited which I consider a good thing because all I think about when my thoughts brieftly turn to him is how he pushed me from the roof of St Barts hospital. Even though I know he wasn't totally in control of his actions I still feel a faint resentment towards him. Standing up I pace from side to side, careful to hold my arms out before me so I wouldn't collide into the walls.
After intially dumping me here Moriarty appears to have completly lost interest in me and hasn't bothered to return once to see how I am doing. Instead Moran is the one who has been bringing me food and water, a job he doesn't overly like judging by the way he throws down both plate and cup and leaves without even acknowledging me. Meal time is also the only time the overhead lights are switched on. Occasionally as I sit here in the dark I wonder how Sherlock is doing but never for long; remembering him and the happy times we spent together is simply too painful. From outside the room I hear a faint sound and momentarily pause in my pacing, trying to make sense of the noise. Footsteps. I tense, clenching my fists. Moran has already brought my meal today so I know it isn't him. The only other options I can think of is either that Moriarty has finally decided to get rid of me or Sherlock... my heart gives a little flutter and I breathe deeply to calm myself. It can't be him...he is probably off doing Moriarty's dirty work. The footsteps come closer and back up away from where I know the door to be. The door swings open and I am blinded by the intense light streaming into my cell.
The silholtte I see framed in the light is vaguely familiar but before I can see any more the person shuts the door behind them, once more plunging the room into darkness. Apart from their quiet breathing the person remains silent, not saying a word, and don't move from where they are standing before the door. If I want to be honest with myself it's a little unsettling.
"What do you want?" I demand, clenching my fists. If this person does intend to harm me I will fight them with everything I have. The person still doesn't say anything and I hear a slight rustling sound as though they are taking a step forward. I let out a quiet hiss. "What do you want?" I repeat, a harshness creeping into my tone despite the slight shake in my voice.
To my great annoyance the person still doesn't reply. Instead an intense golden glow steadily lights up the room, forcing me to hold an arm up before my eyes. As quickly as it appeared the light fades away until the room is bathed in a gentle yellow light that is just enough to illuminate all the corners of the room. Gingerly I lower my arm and blink a few times to clear from my vision the black dots I see every time I blink. Slowly a familiar person materialises before me and even though I try to stop it a wide smile spreads across my face. "S-S-Sherlock?" I gasp, hardly believing what I am seeing before me. "What are you doing here?" I ask before a feeling of dread settles over me. What if he was still under Moriarty's control?
At first Sherlock just stands there and stares at me, an expression of deep sadness in his orange eyes. Behind him his golden red wings flutter slightly, the tips of his feathers touching the opposite walls. I see him swallow and he glances down at the floor. I frown at him, was it possible Sherlock was...nervous? I look up at Sherlock when he clears his throat and takes a step towards me. "I came to visit you John." He says, taking another step towards me.
I stare at him intently, trying to work out whether he was no longer under Moriarty's control or whether he was being ordered to trick me into trusting him. Despite the fact I have learned several tricks of observation and deduction from Sherlock I am unable to work out if it is really Sherlock I am seeing before me. Crossing my arms I stare at him, waiting to see how he reacts. He returns my stare, appearing unfazed. "Well, why haven't you visited before now? Oh wait I know...you were too busy being Moriarty's little pet." I say, only feeling a little bit guilty when he flinches and glances down at the floor. "Tell me Sherlock is that really you, or is Moriarty instructing you to do this?"
Sherlock shakes his head, his expression sad, and reaches out a hand towards me. "I'm so sorry John for everything that twisted bastard made me do." He says, his voice imploring. "Please believe me when I say this is me and that I am no longer under Moriarty's control. Two days ago I woke up and suddenly I remembered everything that had happened and everything I had done." He stops and swallows nervously. I obviously must skeptical because he runs a shaking hand across his forehead and sighs loudly. He walks towards me and when he is about an arms length away from me he reaches out and gently touches his hand to my cheek. At his touch a shiver runs up my spine. He smiles tenderly and comes closer, leaning in so his lips are inches away from mine. A bolt of electricity sizzles through me and I let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock presses in closer before pulling away and looking me directly in the eye. "See John, it really is me." He says softly.
I swallow, my breathing fast and shallow. "It reallly is you." I agree. I lean forward to kiss him again but Sherlock lays a finger against my lips. I glance at him in surprise.
"We don't have much time." Sherlock says earnestly. He doesn't elaborate as to the reason why we don't have much time and glances over at the door as though expecting someone to burst through it at any moment. Instead he places his fingertips either side of my forehead and closes his eyes. "You are going to have to trust me John." He whispers before pressing his lips to mine again.
A warm glowing sensation develops in my chest and spreads throughout my entire body until it feels like a gentle fire is burning inside me. I tangle my fingers in his hair and am surprised when I notice that my skin is alight with a soft golden glow, similiar to the one which is constantly burning through Sherlock's veins. I feel a brief moment of alarm but it quickly disappears because I know Sherlock would never do anything to hurt me.
Sherlock breaks away and smiles at me. "There." He murmurs, backing away a little. I reach towards him only to be brushed away again. "I'm sorry John, I have done all that I can for now. At least this way with the mark of the phoenix upon you you will be safe from fire damage."
I shake my head. None of this makes much sense to me but I have no choice but to go along with whatever Sherlock had planned. I am so intent on watching Sherlock that I don't notice the footsteps heading our way until the door is flung open with a bang, slamming back against the wall. I jump and let out a small cry of alarm while Sherlock growls and hovers protectivly over me. In the doorway is Moriarty and I am startled to see his face is distorted into a twisted, sadistic expression and that in one hand he clutches a syringe of the same bright yellow liquid which he injected Sherlock with before. Without warning he lunges at Sherlock who tries to dodge but fails, allowing Moriarty to plunge the syringe into the side of his neck and depress the plunger. As soon as he yanks out the needle Sherlock sinks to his knees with a groan and buries his head in his hands. A feeling of horror washes over me along with the realisation that I have once more lost Sherlock to Moriarty's control. I sigh and hang my head in defeat.
Moriarty paces slowly around Sherlock shaking his head in disappointment. "I expected better of you Sherly. Fancy sneaking away to visit Johnny Boy in the dead of night." He says, his lilting voice dangerously quiet. "Some-one will have to pay for this." He rubs his hands together and I realise with a twist of revulsion that Moriarty will enjoy whatever is going to happen next. He glances over at Sherlock who is coiled up into a ball, whimpering in pain, anda thoughtful expression settles over his face. "Sherlock." He snaps. "Get up!" At first Sherlock manages to resist the mind control serum running through his veins but as I watch, my heart in my mouth, his eyes glaze over. Once more my friend is lost to me. "You know I have been a terrible host John. I think it's time you saw the rest of my humble abode." He clicks his fingers at Sherlock and he instantly jumps to attention. It makes me sick to watch. "Secure the prisoner." He instructs.
Mindlessly obeying him Sherlock comes over to me and clips a pair of handcuffs about my wrists, rattling them to make sure I can't escape. I wince a little when the metal digs painfully into my skin. Grabbing my wrist Sherlock drags me from the room in Moriarty's wake. I see no point in struggling and placidly follow, all the while examining my surroundings for something I could possibly use. The corridor I am being led down is mostly made of metal with globe lights set in the wall at regular intervals beside metal doors, all of them closed. At the end Sherlock shoves me to the right and into a wide open area brightly lit by tube lighting overhead. After being kept in the dark for several months the light sears into my eyes and I blink rapidly, trying to focus. A shiver runs down my spine when I finally make sense of the room before me. In the centre of the floor is a wooden, straight back chair with a large drain in the floor beneath it. Neither of these things however are what caused the shiver to run down my spine. No, what I am worried about are the rusty red stains coating the grills of the drain. I drag my feet, resisting Sherlock's efforts to force me down into the chair. He shakes me hard and glares at me with fierce orange eyes.
Moriarty strides forward to stand before the chair before giving me a manic grin. Spreading his arms wide slowly spins in a circle. "Welcome Johnny Boy to my interrogation room. Here people spill their darkest secrets while I see how much pain they can withstand before they crack. It's fascinating how strong humans can be." He says, motioning for Sherlock. "Sorry, I guess the tour will have to wait. Sherlock here has been a bad shape-shifter and I wish to conduct a little experiment." He continues while Sherlock slowly walks over to him. "It will be curious to find out just how powerful my mind control drug really is. Sherlock...I want you to burn John Watson."
Sherlock tips his head to one side and appears perplexed for a moment. I clench my fists and pray for him to break free of the mind control. I am not overly hopeful however and so am not surprised when Sherlock bursts into flames. He kneels down and strokes his flaming hand across my cheek. I flinch, expecting to feel intense pain but all I feel is a light, tickling sensation. Startled I glance at Sherlock, remembering what he said earlier about protecting me with the mark of the phoenix. Obviously that means I am now impervious to being hurt by fire. I smile, the gesture is appreciated but un-needed because I have a little trick up my sleeve of which Sherlock knows nothing about. Sherlock's mouth twitches momentarily into a smile before his face settles into a blank expression.
"Stop." I hear Moriarty cry. He claps his hands together and Sherlock instantly jumps to attention. He looks confused when he sees I am uninjured. "That isn't right." He yells, slamming his fists down on the back of the chair before rounding on Sherlock. "What the hell did you do you dumb bird? Burn him again and make sure the flames are white hot this time, I want to smell flesh burning!" He shrieks, momentarily loosing control of his form and shifting into a magpie. Breathing deeply it is several moments before he is able to become human again.
Still kneeling beside me Sherlock closes his eyes and screws up his face in concentration. His golden wings ignite with intense white flames that are so hot they force Moriarty to take a step back. Sherlock lets out a quiet sigh that almost sounds like he is in pain before wrapping his wings around me. A cocoon of heat engulfs me and the chair catches fire. I gasp, the air in my lungs searing my airways but apart from that I am still unharmed. Behind me I hear Moriarty scream in rage. He marches towards Sherlock and before I am able to cry a warning he strikes him hard across the face, knocking him to the floor.
"What have you done Sherlock?" He rages, his eyes glowing with a hateful light. This time he looses control completly. Shrieking loudly he flaps around Sherlock's head, his tail twitching with barely concealed anger. "Answer me! I know the serum wore off earlier and you came running straight to John." He says before he lands on Moran's back, digging his claws into the thick orange and black fur. He glares at me and I feel a shiver run down my spine. I realise then how much danger I am in. Moriarty lets out another shriek and flys at Sherlock's face. Sherlock crys out and tries to fend off the stabbing beak and the tearing claws. "You are mine Sherlock! My own private pet." He pauses for a moment and hovers in the air. "I refuse to loose you Sherly to a mere human." Diving down Moriarty shifts back into human form and, kneeling down before me, he stares me directly in the eye. "Oh Johnny Boy, if only Sherlock hadn't left you alone you might not be in this mess. Rather careless of him not to protect you in some way." He says, a hint of cruelty clearly audible in his usually pleasant voice.
While Moriarty has been talking I have been watching Sherlock for some form of reaction that shows the mind control serum is beginning to wear off. So far there has been nothing but I still remain hopeful. I clench my fists, desperate to show Moriarty that I am not the helpless human he believes me to be. I restrain myself. No, for now I must keep that a secret because I have the feeling it will be of much greater use later on. However it is still with bated breath I wait for what Moriarty will say next.
His eyes flashing with anger Moriarty rises to his full height and stares down at me with a sadistic expressioxn in his eyes. "Now Sherly you may try to fight against what I am about to instruct you to do but in the end you will have to obey me. Do you understand?" He says, his voice dark. "What I want you to do is simple. I want you to tear out John Watson's heart."
'No' I think. 'Not even Moriarty was that evil'. My hands begin to shake, a fact that doesn't go un-noticed by Moriarty because a wicked grin spreads across his face. Okay, maybe he really was capable of such evil. Nervous sweat breaks out on my forehead as I slowly raise my head to look at Sherlock. I honestly don't know what I will do if I see his face blank and expressionless. To my relief I see an expression of disbelief and horror on Sherlock's face. At last, almost too late, the serum has worn off.
"No, I can't." Sherlock cries. Tucking his wings into his back he places an arm around my shoulder and glares up at Moriarty. "I could never hurt John." I feel him flinch a little when Moriarty's face distorts with anger. My heart goes out to him and awkwardly, despite how the metal chaffs at the already damaged skin of my wrists, I reach up and lightly run my fingers along his cheekbone. Sherlock sighs and some of the tension leaves his body.
Moriarty is obviously taken aback by Sherlock's answer because he turns his back and bends down to confer with Moran who growls menacingly under his breath. After a few minutes he stands and spins on his heel to face us. "I injected you with serum Sherlock. Right now you should be mindlessly obeying my every command. Moran here says I should allow him to kill you both and end this once and for all but I want to know how you did it Sherlock. How have you managed to fight the mind control?" He asks, his eyes flashing. Hands on his hips he stares at us. Sherlock remains silent and hugs me closer to him. Moriarty notices the movement and a nasty smirk spreads across his face as realisation dawns. "Of course I should have guessed. You are the reason Johnny Boy." He strides forward and seizes my chin in a tight grip, forcing my head upwards. He doesn't seem to notice or even care that Sherlock has sparks of fire dancing between his fingers and is snarling at him. I close my eyes and try to stop myself from shuddering at the consulting criminal's touch. "Evidently love is strong enough to break a chemically induced mind control. God how pathetic. You should know by now Sherlock that emotions just get in the way." Slowly he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a black handled dagger. Beside me Sherlock tenses and prepares to attack. Moriarty continues to ignore him. "Well I suppose since Sherly is being so stubbon I will just have to deal with you myself." He says, letting go of my chin and resting the point of the dagger on the skin above my heart.
Sherlock steps forward to intercept Moriarty but he is much too late. With a savage cry Moriarty plunges the dagger into the skin, wrenching the blade upwards so it slices against a rib. White hot pain flares in my chest and I gasp in pain, slumping forward in the chair and cursing Moriarty out loud. Moriarty simply laughs and twists the blade in further. Gritting my teeth I let out an angry snarl. Despite the agonising pain I reach up and wrap my hand around Moriarty's wrist. He looks at me, startled, as I start to slowly apply pressure, more than a human being should be capable of inflicting. At the point where I feel the delicate bones beginning to crunch together I take a deep breath before letting it out in a deafening roar.
Moriarty cries in alarm and tries to pull back away from me. He doesn't get very far and only succeeds in painfully twisting his wrist in my grip. Behind him Moran looks up from where he has been pacing,growls fiercely, baring his sharp fangs, and gracefully springs to Moriarty's defence. I allow a slow smile to spread across my face before abruptly shoving Moriarty away from me and breathing a torren of burning fire towards the massive tiger flying in my direction. There is a nasty smell of burning fur and a high pitched yelp of pain followed by Moran crashing down to the ground. Frantically he rolls about, trying desperatly to put out the flames eating away at him.
From where he is sprawled on the ground Moriarty looks up at me with a shocked expression in his eyes. "What the hell are you?" He demands, cradling his wrist to his chest. I let out a quiet snort; if I am not mistaken there is a small amount of fear present in the consulting criminal's voice. Hesistantly, as though fearful to commit himself to any sudden movements, he edges backwards towards Moran who is lying still with his head hidden beneath his paws. "Sebastrian, are you okay? Please answer me!" He cries, gingerly placing a hand on the slightly singed fur of Moran's pelt. I watch him for a few more seconds before I lose interest and turn my attention instead to the handcuffs still around my wrists.
Beside me Sherlock stands up and backs away a little, despite the fact the expression in his orange eyes is curious rather than afraid. He smiles when he notices I am staring at him and shakes his head. "And you accused me of keeping secrets John. Why you have been hiding it better than I do." He says. Reaching forward he lightly runs the tip of his wings across my cheek. A shiver runs through me at the sensation of the soft, warm featehrs stroking my skin.
Grimly I smile at him and stand up. "You may want to step back a little." I tell him, gritting my teeth against the pain of the intense fire already boiling through my veins.
Hastily Sherlock backs away and leans back against the wall where he watches me intently. Moriarty half rises from where he is tending to Moran but freezes, his eyes wide, when I roar at him and trickles of fire burst from the corner of my mouth. Then, with hardly any effort, I easily shift into my true form. No surprise Moriarty appears rather surprised to find an eight foot dragon towering above him. With a stangled squeak he stumbles back, half hiding himself behind Moran's bulk. With comtempt I kick away the twisted, broken handcuffs and take a step forward, my claws scratching the concrete floor. "Moriarty, I would rethink your previous decision to 'deal' with me." I snarl. Behind me I hear Sherlock laugh softly but I hardly pay him any attention; I have more important things to worry about. "Because you will come out of it much worse than I will." Reaching up I curl the claws of one hands around the hilt of the dagger and carefully ease it out of the armour plating covering my stomach and chest with a grunt of pain. There is a small amount of blood trickling from the wound but not enough to immediatly alarm me.
Moriarty is hesistant to poke his head up over the protection of Moran's side but when he eventually does I am surprised to see his expression is gleeful instead of scared. "Brilliant!" He crows loudly. "Not only can I have a phoenix shape-shifter as my pet but a dragon as well! Think what I could do with two mythical shape-shifters by my side. Why I could rule all of London if I wanted." He cries gleefully.
I tense and snarl loudly, steam trickling from my nostrils and pooling about my feet. "Careful Moriarty. Try anything and Moran will die." I hiss, my voice low and threatening.
Moriarty shakes his head, appearing unfazed by my threat despite the previous affection he'd shown Moran. He shrugs and stuffs his heads in his pockets. "Go ahead John, see if I care. I can always acquire another second in command to follow me around. Oh shut up!" He snaps when Moran shifts and lets out a plaintive meow. "Besides," He continues as he slowly pulls his hand from his right pocket. My snarl deepens when I see his grip is tight around the barrel of a handgun, a real one this time with no syringes. "If you kill Sebastrian I'll shoot you. Even a dragon shape-shifter can die from a gun shot wound." He gloats, his voice cruel. Damn I should have known Moriarty would have another trick up his sleeve. "Do you really want to take that chance Johnny Boy?" He asks, his lilting voice sly.
I glare at Moriarty while I considered how to reply. Because of the armour plating covering my stomach and chest it is highly unlikely a bullet would hit any of my very few weak spots but of course there is still a small chance. I tap a claw against my red scales as I think, the motion creating a ticking sound. Yes I think I can risk it. Opening my jaws I breath in deeply, preparing to unleash a torrent of burning fire but before I can Sherlock steps in front of me , his golden red wings burning fiercely. "What are you doing Sherlock?" I ask. He ignores me and rears back to unleash his own curtain of flames at Moran.
Moran attempts to dodge out of the way but he is much too slow. The fire envelops him, hiding him from sight. Moran cries out, a horrible, strangled sound and dimly I see a figure writhing in the centre of the flames. "NOOOO!" Moriarty yells, his voice raw as though the cry has torn itself involuntarily from his throat. He goes to take a step forward but his gaze falls on me. His face hardens and he stays put, the finger he has poised on the trigger of the gun tightening slightly. "I warned you Johnny Boy of the consequences of hurting Moran." He shrieks, his voice pained.
"I did warn you during our previous encounter Moriarty that I was going to burn the heart out of you. How better to do that then destroy the one thing you care about most." Sherlock says, his deep voice tinged with a callous tone I have never heard before. Now I know Sherlock can be cruel sometimes if the need should arrise but that doesn't mean I overly like this side of him. "Oh don't look like that," He contines when Moriarty's face crumples and a single tear runs down the consulting criminal's cheek. "I'm only returning the favour because after all you did kidnap John and threaten to kill him." He says, a fierce glint in his orange eyes, while behind him the fire continues to engulf Moran who has long since fallen silent and ceased to move. I look at him, trying to catch his attention but he ignores him and continues to face Moriarty.
There are tears glittering in Moriarty's eyes as he glances over his shoulder towards the prone form of Moran. A shiver runs up my spine at the hatred in his eyes when he turns to glare at me. "Two can play at that game Sherlock. After all you know what people say about an eye for an eye." He says, his voice shaking though his grip on the gun remains steady. "So sorry it had to come to this Johnny Boy. I would have liked to have kept you around." He sounds almost regretful but any illusions of guilt are shattered when he smirks nastily at me before pulling the gun's trigger.
The next few moments all blur into one. Once everything has settled down I find myself looking at a scene of complete and utter chaos. Moriarty is sprawled on the floor in a crumbled heap with a gaping hole in his chest while Sherlock towers over him, blood staining his beak and talons. Slowly, hesistantly I make my way over to him, freezing when he starts and spins round to face me with a hiss. He relaxes when he sees me before collasping to his knees with a groan. I rush to his side. "What's wrong?" I ask, dreading that he will confirm what I believe to have happened.
Sherlock shakes his head and gasps in pain when he attempts to rise in a sitting position. My mouth falls open in horror for directly over Sherlock's heart is a jagged edged bullet wound steadily pumping blood across the whiteness of his shirt. His eyes are full of sadness when they meet mine. "I'm so sorry John." He gasps, a bubble of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. His body convulses and he forces out a curse between gritted teeth. "I couldn't stand by and watch you get shot." He explains, his voice quiet and shaking.
I press my hand firmly over his wound, desperatly trying to stop the flow of blood. By now it should have started closing up by now. "Why aren't you healing Sherlock?" I ask, trying and failing to keep the dread from my voice. "You're a phoenix, you should be healing!" I see a grim expression flash across Sherlock's face before he tenses and heavy coughs shake his body. I wrap my arms around him and gently move his head so it is resting on my lap. Then I hold him tightly until the coughing has subsided. The front of his shirt is almost completly red now. Oh god. For a moment I glance away, not wanting Sherlock to see the tears in my eyes. Swallowing hard I manage to get myself back under control. There had to be something I could do. "Sherlock!"
Sherlock gazes up at me with eyes that are dull and lifeless. His hand shaking he reaches up to stroke my cheek. "The bullet went right through my heart John. Not even a phoenix shape-shifter can repair such an injury." He explains. His voice is thin and quiet enough that I am forced to lean forward so my ear is next to his mouth. At his words my fragile control breaks and a loud sob escapes me. I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle it.
With tears now running freely down my cheeks I gently press my lips to his forehead. He lets out a quiet sigh. "Please Sherlock, you can't die. I love you." I cry, my voice finally breaking. I bury my head in my hands.
"Maybe it's for the best." Sherlock says. "You were almost killed because of me John. Maybe I deserve to die." He murmurs as he gazes over my shoulder at something only he is able to see.
I reel at what I have heard. How can he think that? I don't think, judging by the paleness of his skin and the way his eyes are unable to focus on anything, that he has very long left. A wave of sorrow sweeps over me, almost drowning me but somehow I manage to keep on top of it. "Of course you don't deserve to die Sherlock. Why would you even think that?" Sherlock stares at me and I take both his limp hands in mine, wincing a little at how cold they are. A sudden though strikes me. "Sherlock, listen to me. Remember when you healed yourself by taking energy from me...well I want you to do that again." I know Sherlock will probably refuse the idea but I at least have to try. "Please Sherlock, if you die I don't know what I'll do. I-I don't know if I'll be able to live without you."
I have to wait several terrifying moments before Sherlock speaks and I panic that I might have lost him. Finally however he slowly raises his head to speak. "It's too dangerous John. I could end up killing you." He pleads. "I can't risk losing you." The blood oozing from his chest has definatly started to slow and thicken.
Sherlock gives me a weak smile which I return. "But if you don't do it Sherlock you are going to die. Please, I trust you." I murmur, leaning my forehead against his. Sherlock's skin is cold and clammy and dread clutches at my heart. Sherlock lets out a gentle sigh before relaxing back against me and closing his eyes. A few moments later I feel a draining sensation course through my veins as Sherlock begins to draw some of my strength into himself. Unlike the last time when I'd had no idea what was happening this time I feel safe in the knowledge that Sherlock would never willingly cause any harm to me. Throughout the healing process I watch Sherlock intently, marvelling at how the faint paleness in his cheeks is already being replaced by a bloom of healthy pink. Gingerly because I don't to cause him any more hurt I lay my hand on his gunshot wound and feel a smile of relief spread across my face for beneath my hand Sherlock's skin is beginning to knit itself back together. I can hardly describe how happy I am that Sherlock is going to be alright, despite the weakness flowing through my veins and the darkness gathering at the edges of my vision.
"John? John,are you okay? John!" I hear Sherlock cry, his voice sounding far away. I feel him shaking me. Taking a deep breath it requires nearly all of my remaining strength to bring myself to my senses and give him a lopsided smile. The next moment I find myself wrapped in a hug. "You scared me for a moment." He murmurs in my ear before crushing his lips to mine and entangling his fingers in my hair. I let out a quiet sigh and relax into him, our bodies fitting together as easily as jigsaw peices. At the same I flex my shoulders and my wings spread out behind me
Momentarily I break off the kiss and cast an uneasy glance towards the bodies of Moriarty and Moran. Sherlock tries to pull me back towards him but I place a finger on his lips to stop him. "Not here." I whisper. "Not with them over there. Lets go home." Sherlock frowns at me before running his hand down my back to the point where my wings merge into my skin. A shiver of pleasure runs through me and I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from moaning out loud.
Thanks for sticking with me this far guys. More Johnlock coming up! (And this time it's serious. ;) )
A teasing smile spreads across Sherlock's face. "Are you sure John?" He whispers softly, continuing to run his hands lightly along the leathery membranes of my wings. I become aware then, and I really don't know why I hadn't noticed it before, that when I shifted into a dragon the intense fire burning within me had burnt away all my clothes. I glance up at Sherlock, a faint blush on my cheeks, and notice his eyes are dark with lust. He flexes his shoulders and his own wings materialize. Then he carefully lays me down on the concrete floor before kneeling with his legs either side of my hips. His wings arch down until the two of us are surrounded by soft golden feathers which glow with their own inner light. I raise myself up on my elbows and my own winggs stretch up to curve over his. Then Sherlock leans down and lightly kisses me, his hands going back to stroke my wings. I feel a smile spread over my face; two can play at that game. At the same time Sherlock and I run our hands over each others wings. Both of us gasp and arch into the other, the kiss growing deeper and more forceful. At one point Sherlock breaks away and slowly runs his gaze down the full length of my body. He raises an eyebrow. "You have scales." He says, his voice tinged with amusement as he reaches down to lightly stroke his fingertips across the scales running down the inside of my calf.
"Why not." I say, my voice breathy and barely controlled. "You have feathers." I close my eyes and swallow hard as Sherlock's fingertips travel higher. "And I haven't even seen them yet." My voice breaks when Sherlock's slender fingers brush against me. I close my eyes with a groan. I hear the sound of a zip being undone followed by the soft rustle of cloth against skin. Curious I open my eyes. Hmm, Sherlock really does have feathers there... Softly he runs his hand across my chest. I grit my teeth; I don't know how much more I can take of this. As though able to read my thoughts Sherlock slides slowly down my body. I shake a little with anticipation when he runs the tiwp of his tongue along the scales on my stomach and traces downwards. A violent shudder runs through me and I lose control of my form, shifting into an eight foot dragon. Sherlock doesn't appear fazed and smiles up at me when I growl and force myself to change back. "Sorry." I gasp, running a shaking hand across my forehead.
Sherlock doesn't reply and continues to trace the line of scales running along my skin. He pauses for a moment and grins up at me with a wicked gleam in his orange eyes before he bends his head back down, his tongue flicking out. A wave of pleasure floods through me and I let out a moan. Tangling my fingers in Sherlock's dark curls I try to pull him closer. Instead of reciprocating however Sherlock lets out a low snarl and pulls away, glaring at the closed door with a mixture of anger and fright.
"What's wrong?" I ask, swallowing hard when my voice breaks to get it back under control. "Sherlock?" I repeat when he continues to ignore me. Something has caught his attention but no matter how hard I strain my ears and listen I am unable to pick up what has so alarmed him.
Sherlock does not answer right away, instead he rises to his feet and stretches his wings to their full extent, causing them to burst into brilliant golden flames. His expression is a mixture of fear and uncertainty when he slowly turns to look at me. "John, we have a problem." He says with an audible shake present in his voice. "I think it would be best, for safety's sake, if we were both to shift into our true forms now." He continues before proceeding to do exactly that. Even as a phoenix fear is still written plainly across his face. Dread clutches at my heart; whatever is about to happen must be bad if Sherlock is so afraid of it.
Even though the last thing I want to do is stop what we were previously doing I reluctantly shift into a dragon. Before, probably because I had been preoccupied with dealing with Moriarty, I hadn't noticed how small the room was and now I curse loudly when I scrap my head spikes against the low roof. I hunch over so my neck is almost bent double. Hopefully we won't have to remain like this for long or I will have to shift back into human form. I growl under my breath when I painfully scrap the scales of my tail against the concrete of the wall. Sherlock glares at me to be quiet and I go to retort but freeze when my sensitive reptilian hearing picks up an peculiar, threatening sound from outside in the corridor.
"What is that?" I ask, eyeing the door and what might be beyond it with suspicion. I hear the sound again and clench my claws. It is unlike anything I have ever heard before; a cross between the crackling of a roaring log fire and and the dry rustling of autumn leaves underfoot. Whatever that thing outside is, it is some form of giant reptile and I don't want to come face to face with it anytime soon. "Sherlock, what the bloody hell is that?" I repeat, my voice rising to the point of hysteria.
Sherlock lets out a deep sigh and slowly raises his gaze to meet mine. I am startled at the intense fear shining from the normally calm blue eyes. I can't even remember the last time I saw Sherlock so emotional. "That person I kill; the one who kidnapped you and tried to turn me into his pet was not Moriarty. That thing outside the door is Moriarty." He explains, making a sweeping motion with his wings towards the door. "The magpie shape-shifter was a doppelganger, a lookalike, which the real Moriarty hired to work for him." He pauses for a moment when a loud hiss echoes from the corridor outside.
Stunned by what I am hearing I can do nothing but simply stare at Sherlock. "Who was the magpie shape-shifter then?" I ask, unsure how to process everything I am hearing. Ugh, I can feel a headache coming on. With a groan I massage my forehead with my fingertips. A sudden thought strikes me then and I look up at Sherlock sharply. "Please don't tell me that the real Moriarty is a shape-shifter too." I say pleadingly.
Sherlock opens his beak to reply only for a deep, sibilant hiss to cut him off. "I Sssmell your fear Sssherlock." Despite the voice's distortion I am still able to tell that it is Moriarty. "Why don't you come out and play?" Moriarty taunts, letting out a nasty sounding laugh.
As the sound of his voice fades away I clench my claws and let out a loud huff, expelling a stream of fire that licks across the floor and bathes the room in a bloody hue. "Oh really Moriarty, we're the scared ones?" I retort, ignoring Sherlock's protests for me to remain silent. "You don't even have the guts to meet us face to face."
Moriarty laughs. "Me scared? No, John Watson I am not scared." He hisses darkly. I realise then that taunting him was probably not my best idea ever. An eerie silence falls and I glance at Sherlock who grimaces at me in return. Before I can open my mouth to apologise for not listening to him the world around us fragments into a chaos of swirling dust and the roar of falling masonary as the roof and the wall surrounding the door collapse on top of us. Dimly I hear Moriarty laugh wildly and Sherlock shriek in pain before a large block of concrete strikes me on the side of my head. Despite my protective scales the block knocks me to the ground and I let out a groan of pain. Briefly the dust parts and I catch a glimpse of gleaming black scales before another blow to the head plunges me into darkness...