He was a dragon man
Who: Sherlock the dragon and YOOOU!
When: Any time of day on October 31st until the effects of the costume wear off.
Where: He'll be lying low throughout sector 7 during the day, or as low as a dragon can lay anyway. Traveling above any given place in the city after sirens. Just specify in your subject line!
Summary: Two spontaneous costume eggs were delivered to Sherlock and John's flat. Guess whose curiosity got the best of him.
Warnings: Grumpiness.
Sherlock didn't plan on going anywhere for Halloween once he opened the egg. Prior to that, he intended entirely on working through the holiday, but now that was impossible. Because now he was fitted with two gaudy nylon wings, a plush red lizard's tail, and a headband that gave him a pair of ivory horns. If there was one thing he had, it was pride, and he wasn't going to bruise it by snooping around in such a ridiculous costume. Now he planned on devoting the rest of the day to finding who was responsible for this predicament and why he couldn't just take it all off.
Not long after the costume stuck itself to him, however, Sherlock began to feel strange pangs in his limbs, matched by a throbbing headache. The wings and tail on his back began to feel like they were fusing to his spine, while the band for the horns clamped down harder on his head. Once he managed to stumble into the bathroom for both aspirin and a look in the mirror, his skin was slowly covering with scales, and his pupils had become reptilian slits. It was fairly obvious now-- he was turning into his costume. God, why--
With that thought of exasperation and the growing pains all over his body, Sherlock made a mad scramble for the building's fire escape. Claws clutched the railings, bending them, until he made it to the roof, collapsing in a heap. The wings on his back grew skyward, turning from nylon to rough sinew, while Sherlock's whole body started to transform. His mind was a jumble, trying to shut out the pain, but when he finally opened his mouth to cry out, his long snout released a volley of flame that singed the TV satellite dishes on the building across the way into ash. He was leaning over the edge now, about thirty five feet long from tail tip to snout, and around fifteen feet high.
[A dragon can be seen during the day on Halloween, around noon, flying towards the forests of sector seven, where Sherlock will take refuge once he learns how to use his wings. After dark, he'll venture back into the city, but at any point, it's best to approach a dragon at your own risk, even if it is really a man underneath.]
When: Any time of day on October 31st until the effects of the costume wear off.
Where: He'll be lying low throughout sector 7 during the day, or as low as a dragon can lay anyway. Traveling above any given place in the city after sirens. Just specify in your subject line!
Summary: Two spontaneous costume eggs were delivered to Sherlock and John's flat. Guess whose curiosity got the best of him.
Warnings: Grumpiness.
Sherlock didn't plan on going anywhere for Halloween once he opened the egg. Prior to that, he intended entirely on working through the holiday, but now that was impossible. Because now he was fitted with two gaudy nylon wings, a plush red lizard's tail, and a headband that gave him a pair of ivory horns. If there was one thing he had, it was pride, and he wasn't going to bruise it by snooping around in such a ridiculous costume. Now he planned on devoting the rest of the day to finding who was responsible for this predicament and why he couldn't just take it all off.
Not long after the costume stuck itself to him, however, Sherlock began to feel strange pangs in his limbs, matched by a throbbing headache. The wings and tail on his back began to feel like they were fusing to his spine, while the band for the horns clamped down harder on his head. Once he managed to stumble into the bathroom for both aspirin and a look in the mirror, his skin was slowly covering with scales, and his pupils had become reptilian slits. It was fairly obvious now-- he was turning into his costume. God, why--
With that thought of exasperation and the growing pains all over his body, Sherlock made a mad scramble for the building's fire escape. Claws clutched the railings, bending them, until he made it to the roof, collapsing in a heap. The wings on his back grew skyward, turning from nylon to rough sinew, while Sherlock's whole body started to transform. His mind was a jumble, trying to shut out the pain, but when he finally opened his mouth to cry out, his long snout released a volley of flame that singed the TV satellite dishes on the building across the way into ash. He was leaning over the edge now, about thirty five feet long from tail tip to snout, and around fifteen feet high.
[A dragon can be seen during the day on Halloween, around noon, flying towards the forests of sector seven, where Sherlock will take refuge once he learns how to use his wings. After dark, he'll venture back into the city, but at any point, it's best to approach a dragon at your own risk, even if it is really a man underneath.]