Magic One Shots (Sherlock BBC Fic)
AN – this is basically a dumping point for all the one shot cracktastic stuff that the magic verse threw up but didn't fit into the two fics. Also, it's an excuse to torture Mycroft.
Warning – slash, established relationship. This holds for all the chapters.
Disclaimer – characters and settings as depicted in BBC series (or any other established setting) are not mine. No money being made. Plot is mine.
From the interested gleam in Sherlock's eye, Geoff made a mental note to frisk the thin genius for fossils before they left the Natural History Museum. It wasn't often that members of the public got an after hours all access pass to the place, but Geoff had wrangled it based on two things. One – he was a DI in Scotland Yard, supposedly checking the security after some threatening letters with the stated aim of stealing or otherwise harming the new exhibit (Geoff was sure that if it came down to it Sherlock would fabricate some for him); and two – because Pet was in a right taking over something that was being housed here and he wanted Sherlock's husband the Mage to have a shufti at it.
"The new exhibit is over there," Geoff pointed and John stepped around his fascinated spouse, patting the thin man on the shoulder and heading for the gallery that housed the museums latest find.
"You said it was a dinosaur exhibit?" Sherlock rubbed his thin hands together in their black leather gloves with childish enthusiasm. Privately, Geoff imagined that Sherlock's room had been a positive dinosaur shrine at some point, if the glint in the gray eyes was anything to go by.
"Yes, two partial skeletons they dug up near Croydon," Geoff nodded, "One winged specimen and one large land based predator. It's postulated that they were attacking each other and died of the subsequent injuries. The skeletons were apparently tangled together very thoroughly."
"It's an unusual find for England – from what I can recall the museum has been making rather a large fuss about it in the press," Sherlock sniffed, "But what makes you think that John is needed here?"
"Pet is fussing," Geoff shrugged, "It keeps dragging me here, or leaving clippings about the exhibit in odd places. The missus was not happy about the newsprint on her best sheets, let me tell you."
Sherlock snorted but forbore to comment as they stepped into the gallery. It was large and the two skeletons were wired upon stands and suspension cables, with the fake bones that the scientists had used to 'fill in the missing pieces' standing out as an intrusive blue. John was standing beneath the bones, his hands on his hips as he looked up, craning his neck to take everything in.
"Well, now. This is a problem," John's voice echoed slightly in the gallery and Geoff frowned, hurrying forward. Pet tugged on his coat hem to stop him from getting too close and Sherlock stumbled beside him.
"It tripped me!" he exclaimed, as fascinated as always with Geoff's invisible Pet. The thin genius reached out a cautious hand and ran it lightly over space in front of him. There was a faint purr, then weight leaning warmly against Geoff's thigh. He dropped a hand onto Pet's head automatically and rubbed what he thought was an ear, getting a louder purr in response. Pet wouldn't let him get closer though.
"What's the problem?" Geoff asked, resignation settling onto his shoulders at John's tone. John laughed at him and joined them, walking out from under the bones to link his arm through Sherlock's. The consulting genius clearly thought his partner was showing him affection but Geoff suspected that John was actually keeping Sherlock away from the bones too, which made the back of his neck tingle.
"Geoff, from that tone and expression, anyone who didn't know you would think that we were a burden you carried, blighting your life with our shenanigans," John smiled at him, "Just think how bored you'd be if I took you at face value and excluded you from the interesting cases."
"Good thing you know me better," Geoff agreed, "Before you suggest it, I am not leaving: I recognise stalling when I see it."
"That's because I'm going to do something that could be construed by the more mundane world as breaking the law. As the representative of the law, I thought I might spare you the burden of having to conceal that crime," John sighed, "Are you sure you want to know?"
"If I didn't before I do now," Geoff snorted, "There's a very unfortunate glitch in the security system. Something has chewed through some key cables. Whatever it is you need to do, you won't be seen. Now tell me what's going on."
"First of all, that isn't two previously undiscovered dinosaurs," John sighed, shaking his head, "And secondly, it isn't dead."
Sherlock actually made a very confused sounding noise, which salved Geoff's pride as he was sure his mouth was hanging open foolishly.
"It sure looks dead," Geoff ventured and John chuckled, shaking his head.
"It's a very clever spell, but trust me, it isn't dead," the Mage replied, "And we're going to have to get it out of here and back to where it belongs."
"If it's not two dinosaurs, what is it?" Sherlock asked the key question, focussed on the details as usual. John gave them both a secret little smile – his whole demeanour positively screaming that he was about to announce something wicked.
"It's a dragon," the words seemed to echo in the space around them for a moment. Geoff's mind whirled at the possibilities. He'd always wondered if dragons existed – after all there were a lot of dragon myths about the place, not to mention places named for dragons or those that had slain them. He'd assumed that, like dinosaurs, dragons were extinct – living on only in tales.
"I knew it!" Sherlock clapped his hands, bouncing on his toes in animated excitement, "This is brilliant!"
For a moment, Geoff could see the excited nine year old boy that Sherlock had once been: from the expression on John's face, so could the Mage.
"How is it not dead?" Sherlock asked, his hands gripping John's arm, "And what do you mean we have to take it where it belongs?"
"There is a dragon preserve in Wales," John tossed the fact off like it was completely normal to be talking about real live dragons. Geoff envied the man's knowledge sometimes, "This one must have wondered off and not been recaptured. It happens sometimes. The dragon keepers put a spell on their charges to keep them out of the public eye. If a dragon is about to be caught, it turns into a skeleton, buried beneath the earth. Every ten years the keepers do a headcount – if they're missing one, they can cast a locating spell to find and retrieve it. They're about two years off that headcount, which means this fellow has been off the reservation for eight years or so."
"How do you plan to get it back to the preserve?" Geoff asked, looking up at the array of bones, dwarfing them in the large room, "You can't exactly wake it up, stick the thing in a fire proof box and ship it to Wales."
"Goodness, no, that would be bad," John shuddered, "Do you have any idea how travel sick a dragon gets when not moving under its own power?"
John shuddered, as did Pet. Geoff's mind danced with visions of a large scaled creature hurling the contents of its stomach everywhere and grimaced.
"So how do we get it there?" Sherlock asked impatiently. Sometimes it seemed the man had no imagination at all.
"I'll reanimate it," John replied, that wicked gleam coming back into his eyes, "And then we can fly it back to Wales. The size of the bones indicates it's a Caledonian Gold, which means it will take all three of us easily."
"Wait, what?" Geoff spluttered, "You mean fly it as in ride it?"
"Oooh, can we?" Sherlock breathed, "That would be brilliant!"
"Of course we can," John replied, smiling at the thrilled expression on Sherlock's face. The thin genius was alight with the kind of childish joy and anticipation that came so rarely to him. Geoff swallowed his concerns, not wanting to ruin the moment for his consultant. Besides, the idea of flying on a real dragon was something that he was not about to pass up, no matter what.
"Stand back, then," John waved them back to the edge of the room and Sherlock towed Geoff there when he didn't move as quickly as the consulting detective would have liked. Geoff allowed it, watching with a fascination that never dimmed as John moved forward and began to incant, raising his hands to wave over the skeleton. Pet made an indignant noise and disappeared with a chuff that Geoff had learned to mean it would be back when he was being sensible.
"Brilliant," Sherlock whispered as the magic took hold and the bones rattled off their hooks and wires, reassembling themselves and then clothing themselves in muscle, sinew and scaly hide. It seemed that, like the Welsh gold, this dragon had a faintly rose hue to its hide. Large wings stretched and creaked, veined with darker gold patterns. The four legged beast in front of them rumbled and bent its head to be petted by the Mage that had reanimated it, snorting lightly as it stamped its feet and twitched its long tail. There were ridges on its back that would act as a sort of saddle for the three men that meant to ride it, as well as a couple dangling from the large square jaw.
"Come and say hello, you two," John's voice was quiet and calm, "I want you to step calmly and slowly. Keep your movements deliberate and your voices down."
The hide was surprisingly soft and the dragon blinked a large green eye at Geoff as he rubbed the ridge above it. Sherlock had taken off his gloves and was stroking the broad nose, his eyes darting about to take in as much detail as possible.
"Come on you two – we don't have long. We need to be out over the sea well before the sun rises. We'll fly over the water to Wales and duck inland where there are no houses or people to spot us," John turned and walked to the nearest foreleg, trailing his hand over the jewelled hide as he did so. He used the shoulder as a step and swung himself easily between the first set of ridges. Sherlock was hot on his heels and Geoff close behind, settling himself cautiously and knotting a hand in the back of Sherlock's coat. Sherlock himself was plastered to John's back, arms around his husband's waist.
"Geoff, arms around Sherlock's waist," John instructed, "That grip won't keep you in place."
Geoff did so gingerly, ignoring Sherlock's grumbles. John ignored them too, urging the dragon to back up towards the edge of the room.
"What are you… oh of course – the only way out is the skylight," Sherlock muttered, "Lestrade, shield your eyes."
"Oh bollocks," Geoff moaned and tucked his head into Sherlock's back, ignoring the sound of breaking glass as best he could. There was a terrific lurch and then a rush of air. Geoff was buffeted quite strongly as the dragon's muscles and back worked hard for a moment and then things settled down.
"Unbelievable!" Sherlock's shout was almost whipped away by the wind and Geoff straightened up and looked down. All of London sprawled below them, the ground blurring beneath their feet. Big Ben streak past him and Geoff gave in to the little boy inside him, joined an instant later by Sherlock.
End (for now)