Behold the Raven - Pt 2.
Title:Behold The Raven
Author:flubber2kool
Artist:shiroi_ten
Word Count:12,576
Pairings/CharactersSherlock/Lestrade, Sherlock, Lestrade, Mycroft, John and Anthea
RatingFic - NC17
WarningsNone
Summary:This is an AU where shape shifters exsist. Sherlock is one of them. This is the story of how he comes to term with his shape shifting as well as falls in love
A/NPlease note that this story has not been beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Written for Sherlockrebang
It was late in the afternoon the next day. Sherlock had been out flying had managed to find someone that may well have been involved in a crime that he was investigating. He had been so intent on following the car, he hadn’t been taking notice of where he was. This was why, when he saw the cherry picker, he flew too low, only just managing to make it round the corner instead of bouncing off a wall.
He had been so relieved to have managed to miss the cherry picker, that he had no idea a car was approaching. This was when Sherlock’s troubles really began. When he did see the car, he only had two choices. The first was to hit the car with his head. That would most likely lead to death. The second was to hit the car with his wing. (Less likely to be fatal but it was still going to hurt.) Having managed to maneuver himself, his wing hit the windscreen with a snap. The pain was so intense that he changed. As he rolled off the car, he caught his cheek, leaving a livid mark on his skin.
Greg had been pursuing a lead on a case too. However it had come to nothing. “A few hours wasted!” he thought.
Suddenly there was a thud. He was sure something had hit his car. A bird? He screeched to a halt and opened his door. There was a moaning coming from the other side of the vehicle. Nothing prepared him for the sight that met his eyes. Greg couldn’t remember having seen anyone when he drove down the road. Did this mean that he was a shifter?
It was then that it his him. Sherlock was lying naked. His skin was a pale and smooth. The roundness of his arse was obvious the way that he was lying. He had wanted to see him this way for a while now, but he had never imagined that the first time would be like this. Suddenly he found himself wondering what Sherlock’s cock would be like.
“Christ Greg, get a grip. The man is lying there is a pain and you are thinking things like that.” Greg thought, as he tore his gaze away from Sherlock.
Greg hadn’t realised that Sherlock had been watching him.
“Hope ... you’ve ... seen enough.” Greg looked down at Sherlock and blushed. He could here the pain in Sherlock’s voice.
“What happened Sherlock?” Greg couldn’t help sounding worried.
“Was set upon ... couldn’t see ... who. Happened so fast. Mugged me, be me up ... stripped me ... left me here. Hurts.”
It was hard to hear Sherlock like this. Not that Greg really believed what Sherlock had told him. Shaking his head, he want to his car, got his coat and laid it over him. The he phoned for an ambulance. It turned out that Sherlock had fractured his arm and had a bad case of concussion. The break was bad enough to require surgery to pin the bones together. Neither Greg nor Sherlock was happy about this but their was nothing either of them could do. Greg headed home and spent the rest of the day wondering what the hell was going on.
The next morning, as Greg got ready for work, the events of the previous day lay heavy on his mind. After finishing, he made his way to the kitchen where he picked up his mobile phone. Walking in to the lounge, he began to flick through his contacts until he came to Mycroft’s number. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to phone him but he needed to know if he was right.
He started with a text.
Need to talk. Do you have time? - GL
I have some time. Please call. - MH
Hesitantly Greg phoned the number. After a few rings it was answered.
Greg stopped for a moment and then spoke. “Something happened yesterday.” Mycroft stilled as he listened. “A bird him my car and then I found Sherlock ...”
Mycroft interrupted him. “Gregory, I think that this conversation needs to be done face to face. I will send a car for you. Are you at your flat or the Yard?”
“ I was just about to leave the flat.”
“Then I would be grateful if you would remain where you are. I await your presence.” The phone went dead with a click.
Greg raised his eyebrows, put his phone in his jacket pocket, took it off, laid it over the back of the nearest chair and headed back in to the kitchen. After having made a cup of coffee, he headed back to the lounge, turned on the television, sat down to watch the news and waited.
Mycroft put his phone down on the desk and looked at it. He knew what was about to happen and wasn’t to happy about it. As much as he felt Gregory should know, he knew that it wasn’t his place to tell him. He’s made his promise to Sherlock and had no intention for breaking it no matter how he felt. With this in mine, after taking another drink of tea, he pressed a button on his desk and summoned Anthea to his office.
“When DCI Lestrade arrives, I require you to stay in the room.”
Anthea gave Mycroft a confused look which he picked up immediately.
“I want you to observe the conversation.”
Anthea will wasn’t sure why he worked her to do this but she still nodded in agreement.
It wasn’t long before Greg found himself on the back of Mycroft’s black sedan, heading towards his office. He found himself wondering why Mycroft hadn’t wanted to talk on the phone and had demanded his presence.
Not long after that, the car drew to a halt and the chauffeur got out to open the door. Greg got out to met by a woman who he recognized as Mycroft’s PA Anthea. He watched as she lifted her head, gave him a smile and put her Blackberry away in her pocket.
“Would you follow me. Mr Holmes is waiting.”
Greg followed Anthea as she let him in to the building, through a maze of corridors, until they arrived at the door to Mycroft’s office.
Mycroft acknowledged her with a nod that she responded to in kind. Then, much to Greg’s surprise Anthea closed the door and went to sit by the window.
Mycroft then motioned to Lestrade to sit down. He then steepled his fingers, rested his chin on them and regarded Greg carefully.
“Now then Gregory, what would you like to discuss with me?”
Greg then recounted the events of the day before. “ ... I think that Sherlock is a shifter. I was wondering if you could tell me anything.”
Anthea watched as Mycroft stiffened in his seat. His eyes fixed on Greg’s as the mask of the Ice Man slipped in to place. It was a look that she had seen so many times and had learnt to be wary off.
“I know nothing about Sherlock being a shifter.” His voice took on an icy tone. “Even if I did, which I can assure you that I don’t, I couldn’t tee you. If you wish to find out the answer to your question, you must ask Sherlock.”
Without another word Mycroft signaled to Anthea that the meeting was over. Greg couldn’t believe it. He was being dismissed. No one treated him like that and got away with it since ... since god knows when. He was damned if Mycroft was going to get away with it.
“So that’s it? You treat me like a child, tell me nothing and then dismiss me?” The anger was obvious in his voice.
Mycroft looked at him. “I’m sorry Gregory. I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I’m waiting for an important phone call, so if you don’t mind.”
Anthea laid her hand on Greg’s arm as he began to say something else. Shaking her head to silence him, she led him towards the door. As it closed behind them, Mycroft took a deep breath and sighed. He could only hope that Sherlock would tell him. Lestrade was a good man and they would make a great couple. It would be a shame if this broke their relationship be they had a chance to love each other.
As Greg’s day went on, he found himself mulling over what Mycroft had said to him. He was really confused. Was Mycroft saying that he didn’t know if Sherlock was a shifter or was he telling him that he did know but wasn’t able to tell him?
“That’s what I get for dealing with a politician.” he grumbled.
As he made himself yet another cup of coffee, he realized that as much as he loved Sherlock, he was just as stubborn as Mycroft. So he wasn’t sure that asking him was going to yield any answers either.
“Mind you,” he thought, “the way my relationships have gone before, why should I expect this one to run smoothly.”
With that he settled down to his day.
The next morning Greg recieved a phone call from John. Sherlock was being sent home.
“Don’t worry mate. I’m home today so I’ll keep an eye on him.” Greg sighed. “Hey I have a vested interest in keeping him sane. As his flatmate, the last thing I need is him putting any more bullet holes in the wall.”
Greg couldn’t help smiling. “No kidding. Look John, I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry mate. You can buy me a pint the next time we’re in the pub.” There was a quick pause in the conversation, “I’d better go get him before he drives the staff mad.” The call ended.
Greg felt a lot happier knowing that he wasn’t leaving Sherlock on his own, well at least for today anyway.
He had been intending to visit Sherlock for lunch. As usual, work got in the way.
Sherlock’s phone pinged. It was a message from Greg.
Won’t make it to yours for lunch. A case has come up. - GL
This meant that Sherlock was left at a loose end as he was alone. John had managed to persuade Sherlock that his world wouldn’t end if he nipped out to Tesco. On the way down John met Anthea on her way up. They smiled at each other and went on their way.
As John had conveniently left the door open, Anthea walked straight in. Sherlock looked at her. He was trying to work out what Mycroft wanted and why he wasn’t there to annoy him in person.
Anthea sat down. “I thought you might like to know DCI Lestrade has been asking about you.” She took a long look at Sherlock. “Also, I know that you’re a shape shifter. “Sherlock looked at her with hurt in his eyes. “Don’t worry. Mycroft didn’t tell me.”
Sherlock looked at her in confusion.
“I’ve had a feeling that you were a shifter for a few years now. Mycroft shifted in to a swan once to protect me from an attacker while we were abroad. It wasn’t a great leap of logic to assume that if Mycroft was a shifter, then you would be one too. After the meeting that Greg had with Mycroft today I think my suspicions have been confirmed.”
Sherlock was about to say something when she continued.
“I can promise you that Mycroft didn’t tell Greg anything.”
Sherlock huffed. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I was at the meeting. I observed the whole thing. Mycroft didn’t send me, I came because I wanted you to know that he hadn’t told Greg about your shifting.”
With that she got up and left Sherlock deep in his thoughts.
In the evening Sherlock got another message from Greg saying that he was going to have to stay late to finish the paperwork for the case he was working on. This left Sherlock time to think. Mycroft was right when he said that if he had faith in what he and Greg shared he should tell him but he still wasn’t sure.
Sherlock had been very wary of letting anyone know because, despite the best intentions of The Powers that Be, there was still prejudice towards shifters in some quarters. There were those who believed that shifters, especially animal and avian shifters, were up to no good. Not only that, he wasn’t sure how people would react to Greg if they knew he was with a shifter. He had also come to realize that he cared about Greg so much that he didn’t want to do anything to hurt him. Then again, when he told John it had been okay. Maybe it would be the same with Greg.
This was all so confusing for Sherlock as he had never thought that he would be in a relationship. It had been so easy when the only people he’d had to worry about had been Mummy, Daddy and Mycroft. This was because they were all avian shifters too. Telling John hadn’t been too bad either, but then again, he didn’t have romantic feelings for him. John was a good friend and if he left Sherlock was sure that he would be devastated, alone and it would hurt him. So how much worse would it be if Greg didn’t want to know him any more? The fact that he had no idea was the thing that was scaring him so much.
Sherlock had lived his life as an avian shifting sociopath. Up until now he’d never need or wanted anyone in his life. He had never wanted a friend or someone to love. Now, thanks to John Hamish Watson and DCI Gregory Lestrade, all that had been turned on it’s head. That wasn’t the worse thing. The worse thing was this proved Mycroft had been right.
John stood leaning against the side of the entry way to the kitchen, a cup of tea in hand. It was strange to see Sherlock lying so still for this long without making a comment. Taking another mouthful of tea, John made his way over to where Sherlock lay on the sofa.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Sherlock looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
“What were you thinking about?”
Sherlock rolled his head so he could look at John. “I ... I’ve fallen for Greg and I haven’t told him that I’m a shifter.” John looked at him and took another swig of tea. “It’s so confusing John. I’m sure that he has feelings for me. It’s just that I’m scared he will leave me if he finds out I’m a shifter. That’s why I haven’t told him.”
John watched as Sherlock lay back on the sofa and clasped his hands behind his head.
“Well mate, “ John sat down in his chair and looked over at Sherlock, “ ... this situation is so not good. You need to start with complete honesty. You know, if Greg finds out that you hid something like this from him, he may not be at all happy and this could cause far more trouble that telling him.”
Sherlock gave John a pained look.
“Take it from me, if there is going to be a problem in a relationship it’s better to find out sooner that later.”
Sherlock thought about it, John was right. He had to tell Greg but he was going to wait until his arm was better.
“There’s no point if I can’t change.” he thought to himself.
Over the next few weeks Sherlock and Greg got closer to each other. Even so, there was a tension between them. It came to a head after Sherlock had his plaster taken off and his pins had been removed. Even though Sherlock was undergoing therapy, he was sure that he would be able to shift even if he couldn’t fly. It was now or never.
One evening, soon after, Greg decided to take Sherlock out for dinner. As Greg and Sherlock ate, he couldn’t help noticing that Sherlock was looking nervous.
“You all right Sherlock?”
Sherlock looked at him and smiled weakly. “I’m fine.”
Greg wasn’t convinced, but he knew better than to press Sherlock. He’d learnt that if he was going to be told, Sherlock would get round to it when he was ready.
The rest of the meal went by uneventfully. Sherlock was still a little nervous but Greg was able to put it to the back of his mind. It had been decided that afterwards they would head back to Greg’s flat. There the two men could have their own privacy and John didn’t have to retreat to his bedroom.
When the arrived at the flat, it was all Greg could do to get them through the door before Sherlock had embraced him and passionately claimed Greg’s mouth for his own. There was no finesse, only a mashing of lips. Greg’s against Sherlocks. Then as suddenly as he had started Sherlock pulled back and looked at him, his lust blown eyes full of wonder.
“Before we go any further there’s something I have to show you.” Greg looked confused as Sherlock took his hand, “Please take me to your bedroom.”
Greg lead him in to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re right Greg I’m a shifter.”
Greg knelt before Sherlock who looked down at him. Greg looked up at him and smiled. “It’s okay. I think I’ve known since the day that bird hit the windscreen and I found you lying beside the car.” Sherlock gave him a worried look. “It’s okay Sherlock. I don’t care about you being a shifter. We have some working in the Yard. They make great trackers. I’m not one of those who think that shifters are bad people. As far as being in a relationship with you Sherlock, if anyone gets at me for having a relationship with a shifter I will tell them where to go. I don’t give a damn about anything other than you Sherlock. I’ve waited for this for too long and I’m not going to let anyone get in the way of this. Of us.”
Sherlock smiled at him, a look of relief on his face. “Would you like to see me change?”
Sherlock stripped of before him and slowly he began to change. Greg watched in fascination as Sherlock’s bones popped and changed as he went from the shape of Sherlock the man to the shift of Sherlock the raven. Greg looked at him with a mixture of awe and wonder. Awe at the beauty of the raven that stood on the ground in front of him, eyes bright, feathers shiny and black and wonder at how Sherlock, a man so tall and elegant, could fold and change himself in to the raven that stood looking at him.
Not knowing how to react with Sherlock in his shift form Greg reached out a hand gently. Sherlock hopped over to him and rubbed his head gently against his palm. The feathers felt so soft against the skin.
“Sherlock,” Greg felt strange talking to a bird, even if it was Sherlock. “Sherlock you look beautiful. You make an elegant raven. I love you and I am more than willing to stay with you”
Greg took Sherlock in his hands and lifted him gently, pressing a gentle kiss in to the feathers on the top of Sherlock’s head. Sherlock, for his part, cawed contentedly. Even though he was in his shift, Sherlock felt the warmth of love that ran between the two of them. Maybe Mycroft was right when he said that he wasn’t a real sociopath after all. Maybe he had just thought that he was because he’d never found the right person. Well, he had now and if running the risks that went with such relationships were put beside feeling like this, then they were risks he was willing to take. After all every experiment had it’s risks and wasn’t love the greatest experiment of all.
Eventually Sherlock changed back and stood in front of Greg naked. Greg walked round him admiring the paleness of his skin and its smoothness. Every so often he would reach out a hand to touch him only to snatch it back in uncertainty.
“It’s all right Lestrade. You can touch.” A smile lit up his face, “It’s not like I’m going to break.”
With that Greg began to touch and caress Sherlock. He wanted to map out his whole body. He wanted to know how every inch of him felt, how he smelled, what things he liked to have done to him and where his sensitive spots where. Very soon Greg was as naked as Sherlock. It was at this point that the two men fell in to bed. The gentle touches became more urgent. Their two bodies came together and their cocks hardened. Their kisses were hard and passionate. Greg couldn’t help himself as he rubbed his cock against Sherlocks and it wasn’t long before he came, Sherlock’s name coming from his lips. This was enough to take Sherlock over the edge as well, his come mingling with Greg’s on his chest and cock.
“God that was ... amazing.” This time it was Sherlocks turn to feel a sense of wonder.
Greg smiled as he got out of the bed. “Now you know what you’ve been missing!” Sherlock managed to flick his arse as he went past.
Coming back with a cloth he cleaned them both up then slipped in to bed beside Sherlock.
Spooning up behind Sherlock Greg whispered in his ear. “Behold the raven. My raven.”
Sherlock responded with a drowsy, “Always?”
“I’ll do my best.” Greg smiled. “That is if you don’t send me crazy first’
Sherlock couldn’t help smiling at that. Slowly his breathing began to even out as his slipped in to sleep and Greg followed him.
Epilogue -
It had been a few weeks since Sherlock had told Greg he was a shifter. He was still trying to get over the fact that he hadn’t left him. As he got out the key that he’d been given, he imagined he could hear music from inside the flat. If it was, then Greg had got home earlier than expected.
Opening the door, he walked in to find his ears assaulted by what Greg, laughingly according to Sherlock, referred to as music and his nose, by the wonderful smell of whatever was cooking.
Sherlock took off his scarf and coat and laid it on the back of a the nearest chair. Greg called out, “I’m in the kitchen.”
Sherlock walked in to find Greg in the midst of pots, pans and general kitchen mayhem. Sherlock looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
“I can cook. It’s just that with my lifestyle, I don’t get to often.” Sherlock was about to say something, Greg interjected. “I felt hungry and for once I wanted something that didn’t come out of and tin or takeout carton. So I don’t give a stuff if you want to eat you pompous git.”
Sherlock said nothing as he moved over to where Greg was standing at the stove. Wrapping his arms around his waist, Sherlock leant his head on Greg’s shoulder.
“Lestrade, before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to say that as I haven’t eaten for a few days, I would love to sample your cooking.”
Greg elbowed him gently in the ribs. “Go on you daft bugger!”
Sherlock turned off the music and returned to the table. It wasn’t long before the two of them were enjoying the fruits of Greg’s labour along with a bottle of wine. They spent the meal chatting about the day they’d had. Sherlock told Greg about the cold case that he’d solved that day and how mind boggling easy it had been. Greg moaned about the amount of paperwork he’d had to do and about a really fierce argument between Donovan and Anderson. The latter made Sherlock smile.
After the meal the two men abandoned the dishes in the sink and headed in to the living room. Greg took hold of Sherlock and drew him towards him, in to a very passionate kiss. Sherlock surrendered to this and opened his lips allowing Greg to explore his mouth. It was still an amazing feeling. However, there was something else. He wanted to change. Sherlock felt his body begin to hum as he felt his inner self calling to him. Greg felt Sherlock start to shiver beneath his hands as he broke the kiss.
“You want to change don’t you.” Greg looked at Sherlock, who answered with a silent nod of his head.
Taking Sherlock’s hand, Greg lead him in to the bedroom. Letting go of Sherlock’s hands, he walked over to the window. Stopping to open the curtains, he opened it enough to allow Sherlock to get out of it. Sherlock looked at him apprehensively.
Noticing the look on Sherlock’s face, he smiled again taking Sherlock’s hands in his. “Don’t worry you silly git. You know that I love you. You also know that if I’d wanted to leave, I would’e done so by now.” Sherlock sighed and visibly relaxed. “I’m never going to expect or demand that you stop flying either.”
Sherlock regarding him carefully. “Will you leave the window open?”
Greg squeezed his hands in his. “Always.”
Sherlock smiled, stripped and shifted. With a few hops he made it to the window and up on to the window frame. He stopped and looked back at Greg.
“Go on. I promise I’ll be here when you get back.”
Sherlock tipped his beak in acknowledgment and launched himself from the window. Greg looked out of the window and smiled before heading to bed.
From that night on, every night they were together, Greg always left the window open so that Sherlock could fly if he wanted to. Greg did so until the day he took his last breath and Sherlock flew no more.
Author:flubber2kool
Artist:shiroi_ten
Word Count:12,576
Pairings/CharactersSherlock/Lestrade, Sherlock, Lestrade, Mycroft, John and Anthea
RatingFic - NC17
WarningsNone
Summary:This is an AU where shape shifters exsist. Sherlock is one of them. This is the story of how he comes to term with his shape shifting as well as falls in love
A/NPlease note that this story has not been beta'd so all mistakes are my own. Written for Sherlockrebang
It was late in the afternoon the next day. Sherlock had been out flying had managed to find someone that may well have been involved in a crime that he was investigating. He had been so intent on following the car, he hadn’t been taking notice of where he was. This was why, when he saw the cherry picker, he flew too low, only just managing to make it round the corner instead of bouncing off a wall.
He had been so relieved to have managed to miss the cherry picker, that he had no idea a car was approaching. This was when Sherlock’s troubles really began. When he did see the car, he only had two choices. The first was to hit the car with his head. That would most likely lead to death. The second was to hit the car with his wing. (Less likely to be fatal but it was still going to hurt.) Having managed to maneuver himself, his wing hit the windscreen with a snap. The pain was so intense that he changed. As he rolled off the car, he caught his cheek, leaving a livid mark on his skin.
Greg had been pursuing a lead on a case too. However it had come to nothing. “A few hours wasted!” he thought.
Suddenly there was a thud. He was sure something had hit his car. A bird? He screeched to a halt and opened his door. There was a moaning coming from the other side of the vehicle. Nothing prepared him for the sight that met his eyes. Greg couldn’t remember having seen anyone when he drove down the road. Did this mean that he was a shifter?
It was then that it his him. Sherlock was lying naked. His skin was a pale and smooth. The roundness of his arse was obvious the way that he was lying. He had wanted to see him this way for a while now, but he had never imagined that the first time would be like this. Suddenly he found himself wondering what Sherlock’s cock would be like.
“Christ Greg, get a grip. The man is lying there is a pain and you are thinking things like that.” Greg thought, as he tore his gaze away from Sherlock.
Greg hadn’t realised that Sherlock had been watching him.
“Hope ... you’ve ... seen enough.” Greg looked down at Sherlock and blushed. He could here the pain in Sherlock’s voice.
“What happened Sherlock?” Greg couldn’t help sounding worried.
“Was set upon ... couldn’t see ... who. Happened so fast. Mugged me, be me up ... stripped me ... left me here. Hurts.”
It was hard to hear Sherlock like this. Not that Greg really believed what Sherlock had told him. Shaking his head, he want to his car, got his coat and laid it over him. The he phoned for an ambulance. It turned out that Sherlock had fractured his arm and had a bad case of concussion. The break was bad enough to require surgery to pin the bones together. Neither Greg nor Sherlock was happy about this but their was nothing either of them could do. Greg headed home and spent the rest of the day wondering what the hell was going on.
The next morning, as Greg got ready for work, the events of the previous day lay heavy on his mind. After finishing, he made his way to the kitchen where he picked up his mobile phone. Walking in to the lounge, he began to flick through his contacts until he came to Mycroft’s number. He wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to phone him but he needed to know if he was right.
He started with a text.
Need to talk. Do you have time? - GL
I have some time. Please call. - MH
Hesitantly Greg phoned the number. After a few rings it was answered.
Greg stopped for a moment and then spoke. “Something happened yesterday.” Mycroft stilled as he listened. “A bird him my car and then I found Sherlock ...”
Mycroft interrupted him. “Gregory, I think that this conversation needs to be done face to face. I will send a car for you. Are you at your flat or the Yard?”
“ I was just about to leave the flat.”
“Then I would be grateful if you would remain where you are. I await your presence.” The phone went dead with a click.
Greg raised his eyebrows, put his phone in his jacket pocket, took it off, laid it over the back of the nearest chair and headed back in to the kitchen. After having made a cup of coffee, he headed back to the lounge, turned on the television, sat down to watch the news and waited.
Mycroft put his phone down on the desk and looked at it. He knew what was about to happen and wasn’t to happy about it. As much as he felt Gregory should know, he knew that it wasn’t his place to tell him. He’s made his promise to Sherlock and had no intention for breaking it no matter how he felt. With this in mine, after taking another drink of tea, he pressed a button on his desk and summoned Anthea to his office.
“When DCI Lestrade arrives, I require you to stay in the room.”
Anthea gave Mycroft a confused look which he picked up immediately.
“I want you to observe the conversation.”
Anthea will wasn’t sure why he worked her to do this but she still nodded in agreement.
It wasn’t long before Greg found himself on the back of Mycroft’s black sedan, heading towards his office. He found himself wondering why Mycroft hadn’t wanted to talk on the phone and had demanded his presence.
Not long after that, the car drew to a halt and the chauffeur got out to open the door. Greg got out to met by a woman who he recognized as Mycroft’s PA Anthea. He watched as she lifted her head, gave him a smile and put her Blackberry away in her pocket.
“Would you follow me. Mr Holmes is waiting.”
Greg followed Anthea as she let him in to the building, through a maze of corridors, until they arrived at the door to Mycroft’s office.
Mycroft acknowledged her with a nod that she responded to in kind. Then, much to Greg’s surprise Anthea closed the door and went to sit by the window.
Mycroft then motioned to Lestrade to sit down. He then steepled his fingers, rested his chin on them and regarded Greg carefully.
“Now then Gregory, what would you like to discuss with me?”
Greg then recounted the events of the day before. “ ... I think that Sherlock is a shifter. I was wondering if you could tell me anything.”
Anthea watched as Mycroft stiffened in his seat. His eyes fixed on Greg’s as the mask of the Ice Man slipped in to place. It was a look that she had seen so many times and had learnt to be wary off.
“I know nothing about Sherlock being a shifter.” His voice took on an icy tone. “Even if I did, which I can assure you that I don’t, I couldn’t tee you. If you wish to find out the answer to your question, you must ask Sherlock.”
Without another word Mycroft signaled to Anthea that the meeting was over. Greg couldn’t believe it. He was being dismissed. No one treated him like that and got away with it since ... since god knows when. He was damned if Mycroft was going to get away with it.
“So that’s it? You treat me like a child, tell me nothing and then dismiss me?” The anger was obvious in his voice.
Mycroft looked at him. “I’m sorry Gregory. I can’t tell you what I don’t know. I’m waiting for an important phone call, so if you don’t mind.”
Anthea laid her hand on Greg’s arm as he began to say something else. Shaking her head to silence him, she led him towards the door. As it closed behind them, Mycroft took a deep breath and sighed. He could only hope that Sherlock would tell him. Lestrade was a good man and they would make a great couple. It would be a shame if this broke their relationship be they had a chance to love each other.
As Greg’s day went on, he found himself mulling over what Mycroft had said to him. He was really confused. Was Mycroft saying that he didn’t know if Sherlock was a shifter or was he telling him that he did know but wasn’t able to tell him?
“That’s what I get for dealing with a politician.” he grumbled.
As he made himself yet another cup of coffee, he realized that as much as he loved Sherlock, he was just as stubborn as Mycroft. So he wasn’t sure that asking him was going to yield any answers either.
“Mind you,” he thought, “the way my relationships have gone before, why should I expect this one to run smoothly.”
With that he settled down to his day.
The next morning Greg recieved a phone call from John. Sherlock was being sent home.
“Don’t worry mate. I’m home today so I’ll keep an eye on him.” Greg sighed. “Hey I have a vested interest in keeping him sane. As his flatmate, the last thing I need is him putting any more bullet holes in the wall.”
Greg couldn’t help smiling. “No kidding. Look John, I owe you one.”
“Don’t worry mate. You can buy me a pint the next time we’re in the pub.” There was a quick pause in the conversation, “I’d better go get him before he drives the staff mad.” The call ended.
Greg felt a lot happier knowing that he wasn’t leaving Sherlock on his own, well at least for today anyway.
He had been intending to visit Sherlock for lunch. As usual, work got in the way.
Sherlock’s phone pinged. It was a message from Greg.
Won’t make it to yours for lunch. A case has come up. - GL
This meant that Sherlock was left at a loose end as he was alone. John had managed to persuade Sherlock that his world wouldn’t end if he nipped out to Tesco. On the way down John met Anthea on her way up. They smiled at each other and went on their way.
As John had conveniently left the door open, Anthea walked straight in. Sherlock looked at her. He was trying to work out what Mycroft wanted and why he wasn’t there to annoy him in person.
Anthea sat down. “I thought you might like to know DCI Lestrade has been asking about you.” She took a long look at Sherlock. “Also, I know that you’re a shape shifter. “Sherlock looked at her with hurt in his eyes. “Don’t worry. Mycroft didn’t tell me.”
Sherlock looked at her in confusion.
“I’ve had a feeling that you were a shifter for a few years now. Mycroft shifted in to a swan once to protect me from an attacker while we were abroad. It wasn’t a great leap of logic to assume that if Mycroft was a shifter, then you would be one too. After the meeting that Greg had with Mycroft today I think my suspicions have been confirmed.”
Sherlock was about to say something when she continued.
“I can promise you that Mycroft didn’t tell Greg anything.”
Sherlock huffed. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I was at the meeting. I observed the whole thing. Mycroft didn’t send me, I came because I wanted you to know that he hadn’t told Greg about your shifting.”
With that she got up and left Sherlock deep in his thoughts.
In the evening Sherlock got another message from Greg saying that he was going to have to stay late to finish the paperwork for the case he was working on. This left Sherlock time to think. Mycroft was right when he said that if he had faith in what he and Greg shared he should tell him but he still wasn’t sure.
Sherlock had been very wary of letting anyone know because, despite the best intentions of The Powers that Be, there was still prejudice towards shifters in some quarters. There were those who believed that shifters, especially animal and avian shifters, were up to no good. Not only that, he wasn’t sure how people would react to Greg if they knew he was with a shifter. He had also come to realize that he cared about Greg so much that he didn’t want to do anything to hurt him. Then again, when he told John it had been okay. Maybe it would be the same with Greg.
This was all so confusing for Sherlock as he had never thought that he would be in a relationship. It had been so easy when the only people he’d had to worry about had been Mummy, Daddy and Mycroft. This was because they were all avian shifters too. Telling John hadn’t been too bad either, but then again, he didn’t have romantic feelings for him. John was a good friend and if he left Sherlock was sure that he would be devastated, alone and it would hurt him. So how much worse would it be if Greg didn’t want to know him any more? The fact that he had no idea was the thing that was scaring him so much.
Sherlock had lived his life as an avian shifting sociopath. Up until now he’d never need or wanted anyone in his life. He had never wanted a friend or someone to love. Now, thanks to John Hamish Watson and DCI Gregory Lestrade, all that had been turned on it’s head. That wasn’t the worse thing. The worse thing was this proved Mycroft had been right.
John stood leaning against the side of the entry way to the kitchen, a cup of tea in hand. It was strange to see Sherlock lying so still for this long without making a comment. Taking another mouthful of tea, John made his way over to where Sherlock lay on the sofa.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Sherlock looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
“What were you thinking about?”
Sherlock rolled his head so he could look at John. “I ... I’ve fallen for Greg and I haven’t told him that I’m a shifter.” John looked at him and took another swig of tea. “It’s so confusing John. I’m sure that he has feelings for me. It’s just that I’m scared he will leave me if he finds out I’m a shifter. That’s why I haven’t told him.”
John watched as Sherlock lay back on the sofa and clasped his hands behind his head.
“Well mate, “ John sat down in his chair and looked over at Sherlock, “ ... this situation is so not good. You need to start with complete honesty. You know, if Greg finds out that you hid something like this from him, he may not be at all happy and this could cause far more trouble that telling him.”
Sherlock gave John a pained look.
“Take it from me, if there is going to be a problem in a relationship it’s better to find out sooner that later.”
Sherlock thought about it, John was right. He had to tell Greg but he was going to wait until his arm was better.
“There’s no point if I can’t change.” he thought to himself.
Over the next few weeks Sherlock and Greg got closer to each other. Even so, there was a tension between them. It came to a head after Sherlock had his plaster taken off and his pins had been removed. Even though Sherlock was undergoing therapy, he was sure that he would be able to shift even if he couldn’t fly. It was now or never.
One evening, soon after, Greg decided to take Sherlock out for dinner. As Greg and Sherlock ate, he couldn’t help noticing that Sherlock was looking nervous.
“You all right Sherlock?”
Sherlock looked at him and smiled weakly. “I’m fine.”
Greg wasn’t convinced, but he knew better than to press Sherlock. He’d learnt that if he was going to be told, Sherlock would get round to it when he was ready.
The rest of the meal went by uneventfully. Sherlock was still a little nervous but Greg was able to put it to the back of his mind. It had been decided that afterwards they would head back to Greg’s flat. There the two men could have their own privacy and John didn’t have to retreat to his bedroom.
When the arrived at the flat, it was all Greg could do to get them through the door before Sherlock had embraced him and passionately claimed Greg’s mouth for his own. There was no finesse, only a mashing of lips. Greg’s against Sherlocks. Then as suddenly as he had started Sherlock pulled back and looked at him, his lust blown eyes full of wonder.
“Before we go any further there’s something I have to show you.” Greg looked confused as Sherlock took his hand, “Please take me to your bedroom.”
Greg lead him in to his bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. “You’re right Greg I’m a shifter.”
Greg knelt before Sherlock who looked down at him. Greg looked up at him and smiled. “It’s okay. I think I’ve known since the day that bird hit the windscreen and I found you lying beside the car.” Sherlock gave him a worried look. “It’s okay Sherlock. I don’t care about you being a shifter. We have some working in the Yard. They make great trackers. I’m not one of those who think that shifters are bad people. As far as being in a relationship with you Sherlock, if anyone gets at me for having a relationship with a shifter I will tell them where to go. I don’t give a damn about anything other than you Sherlock. I’ve waited for this for too long and I’m not going to let anyone get in the way of this. Of us.”
Sherlock smiled at him, a look of relief on his face. “Would you like to see me change?”
Sherlock stripped of before him and slowly he began to change. Greg watched in fascination as Sherlock’s bones popped and changed as he went from the shape of Sherlock the man to the shift of Sherlock the raven. Greg looked at him with a mixture of awe and wonder. Awe at the beauty of the raven that stood on the ground in front of him, eyes bright, feathers shiny and black and wonder at how Sherlock, a man so tall and elegant, could fold and change himself in to the raven that stood looking at him.
Not knowing how to react with Sherlock in his shift form Greg reached out a hand gently. Sherlock hopped over to him and rubbed his head gently against his palm. The feathers felt so soft against the skin.
“Sherlock,” Greg felt strange talking to a bird, even if it was Sherlock. “Sherlock you look beautiful. You make an elegant raven. I love you and I am more than willing to stay with you”
Greg took Sherlock in his hands and lifted him gently, pressing a gentle kiss in to the feathers on the top of Sherlock’s head. Sherlock, for his part, cawed contentedly. Even though he was in his shift, Sherlock felt the warmth of love that ran between the two of them. Maybe Mycroft was right when he said that he wasn’t a real sociopath after all. Maybe he had just thought that he was because he’d never found the right person. Well, he had now and if running the risks that went with such relationships were put beside feeling like this, then they were risks he was willing to take. After all every experiment had it’s risks and wasn’t love the greatest experiment of all.
Eventually Sherlock changed back and stood in front of Greg naked. Greg walked round him admiring the paleness of his skin and its smoothness. Every so often he would reach out a hand to touch him only to snatch it back in uncertainty.
“It’s all right Lestrade. You can touch.” A smile lit up his face, “It’s not like I’m going to break.”
With that Greg began to touch and caress Sherlock. He wanted to map out his whole body. He wanted to know how every inch of him felt, how he smelled, what things he liked to have done to him and where his sensitive spots where. Very soon Greg was as naked as Sherlock. It was at this point that the two men fell in to bed. The gentle touches became more urgent. Their two bodies came together and their cocks hardened. Their kisses were hard and passionate. Greg couldn’t help himself as he rubbed his cock against Sherlocks and it wasn’t long before he came, Sherlock’s name coming from his lips. This was enough to take Sherlock over the edge as well, his come mingling with Greg’s on his chest and cock.
“God that was ... amazing.” This time it was Sherlocks turn to feel a sense of wonder.
Greg smiled as he got out of the bed. “Now you know what you’ve been missing!” Sherlock managed to flick his arse as he went past.
Coming back with a cloth he cleaned them both up then slipped in to bed beside Sherlock.
Spooning up behind Sherlock Greg whispered in his ear. “Behold the raven. My raven.”
Sherlock responded with a drowsy, “Always?”
“I’ll do my best.” Greg smiled. “That is if you don’t send me crazy first’
Sherlock couldn’t help smiling at that. Slowly his breathing began to even out as his slipped in to sleep and Greg followed him.
Epilogue -
It had been a few weeks since Sherlock had told Greg he was a shifter. He was still trying to get over the fact that he hadn’t left him. As he got out the key that he’d been given, he imagined he could hear music from inside the flat. If it was, then Greg had got home earlier than expected.
Opening the door, he walked in to find his ears assaulted by what Greg, laughingly according to Sherlock, referred to as music and his nose, by the wonderful smell of whatever was cooking.
Sherlock took off his scarf and coat and laid it on the back of a the nearest chair. Greg called out, “I’m in the kitchen.”
Sherlock walked in to find Greg in the midst of pots, pans and general kitchen mayhem. Sherlock looked at him and raised his eyebrows.
“I can cook. It’s just that with my lifestyle, I don’t get to often.” Sherlock was about to say something, Greg interjected. “I felt hungry and for once I wanted something that didn’t come out of and tin or takeout carton. So I don’t give a stuff if you want to eat you pompous git.”
Sherlock said nothing as he moved over to where Greg was standing at the stove. Wrapping his arms around his waist, Sherlock leant his head on Greg’s shoulder.
“Lestrade, before you so rudely interrupted me, I was going to say that as I haven’t eaten for a few days, I would love to sample your cooking.”
Greg elbowed him gently in the ribs. “Go on you daft bugger!”
Sherlock turned off the music and returned to the table. It wasn’t long before the two of them were enjoying the fruits of Greg’s labour along with a bottle of wine. They spent the meal chatting about the day they’d had. Sherlock told Greg about the cold case that he’d solved that day and how mind boggling easy it had been. Greg moaned about the amount of paperwork he’d had to do and about a really fierce argument between Donovan and Anderson. The latter made Sherlock smile.
After the meal the two men abandoned the dishes in the sink and headed in to the living room. Greg took hold of Sherlock and drew him towards him, in to a very passionate kiss. Sherlock surrendered to this and opened his lips allowing Greg to explore his mouth. It was still an amazing feeling. However, there was something else. He wanted to change. Sherlock felt his body begin to hum as he felt his inner self calling to him. Greg felt Sherlock start to shiver beneath his hands as he broke the kiss.
“You want to change don’t you.” Greg looked at Sherlock, who answered with a silent nod of his head.
Taking Sherlock’s hand, Greg lead him in to the bedroom. Letting go of Sherlock’s hands, he walked over to the window. Stopping to open the curtains, he opened it enough to allow Sherlock to get out of it. Sherlock looked at him apprehensively.
Noticing the look on Sherlock’s face, he smiled again taking Sherlock’s hands in his. “Don’t worry you silly git. You know that I love you. You also know that if I’d wanted to leave, I would’e done so by now.” Sherlock sighed and visibly relaxed. “I’m never going to expect or demand that you stop flying either.”
Sherlock regarding him carefully. “Will you leave the window open?”
Greg squeezed his hands in his. “Always.”
Sherlock smiled, stripped and shifted. With a few hops he made it to the window and up on to the window frame. He stopped and looked back at Greg.
“Go on. I promise I’ll be here when you get back.”
Sherlock tipped his beak in acknowledgment and launched himself from the window. Greg looked out of the window and smiled before heading to bed.
From that night on, every night they were together, Greg always left the window open so that Sherlock could fly if he wanted to. Greg did so until the day he took his last breath and Sherlock flew no more.