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How did he get in this mess? ...Oh, right. The army didn't want him anymore, for obvious reasons that were currently twinging. Home had disappeared with the rest of his family. Harry might be alive still, somewhere, but certainly didn't look forward to his return. Possibly not even if he had come back a victor with his share of the spoils.
With no goal and very little in the way of possessions, he'd wandered, and eventually drifted into the forest. It didn't really pay to stay on the road when you didn't know where you were going. More so if you felt like you had enough of other people....possibly for a couple decades at least. He could still hunt. Lay traps, mostly. It was summer, the green-tinted shadows more inviting than ever, and shelter not really something he'd had to worry about. He'd look for something more permanent (or at least comfortable) later. Maybe next month.
A nervous sound warned him that something got caught in one of his traps. Not a hare or a pheasant. That sounded like...possibly, a deer? Wondering if it was even worth taking down a prey that big, when it was just him, he walked slowly to it. The sight took his breath away...and possibly his mind already left. But nope. Even after the hardest pinch, the scene didn't change.
The unicorn's skin was almost translucent-bright, the silvery flank in stark contrast against the deeper shadows, mane falling in shiny, purpleish curls on a graceful neck. The hoof caught in the rope John had hidden in the undergrowth kicked around, but he knew his knots – there was no way the creature could free itself. Just as there was no way that John would hurt it.
Not just for the grandmas' tales, about how dangerous and potentially cursing it would be to make such a beast bleed. His own Nan would have told John that he was a lucky boy for choosing that particular snare. And he would have laughed, because – did it matter, really? Could his fate even get that much worse if he actually was cursed?
No, he wouldn't hurt it because...he'd scoffed at fairy tales before, but now he knew. He knew how one could be taken by the lure of magic, of perfection beyond nature, and forever disappear. He'd free it, and if the unicorn decided to acquaint him with the pointy end of his horn in retaliation for the trap, John wasn't even sure he'd be in the mood to fight – or run, instead of just watching. Did his mouth even closed yet or was he still gaping like a confused fish?
He knelt slowly, murmuring soothing nonsense, or so he hoped. The unicorn went utterly still, and John smiled at himself. Good start. A little bit of fiddling, and it was free. It turned around, and John wondered if it was going to attack, after all. Instead, eyes too smart for any animal sized him up, and with a little nod, it took off running. Spell broken, John found himself sighing, achy and tired and wanting. There was no way he could follow it, though, much less reach it. He shook his head and told himself to stop being a kid.
It was a day for wonders, though. Long after John had managed to actually get himself some food, while he was lying on the soft grass and staring at the stars winking up above, beyond the darkness that had fallen on the forest like a gentle sheet...a different light came closer. It was back! What could have driven it here? John looked over the magnificent creature, but it seemed just like earlier. It wasn't seeking help. Slow, so slow, it came closer and closer to him, now sitting up, a hand half-extended to offer – whatever it might want. What it wanted, apparently, was to lay down next to him, rest its head on John's stomach, and fall asleep. Which was – fine. Weird development, sure, but fine. He definitely wasn't protesting.
John settled back down, and his hand – almost as if it had a will of its own – twined itself in the soft mane. A soft snort was all the reaction it gave, so John let himself follow his instinct, gently carding the luminous hair over and over. Despite the brightness, he must have dozed, because when he woke up...it wasn't an animal at his side.
Thank all the gods, it wasn't a naked creature, either – but it could almost have passed for a human. Well, if it...he, maybe he should say...didn't emanate so much light. And didn't still sport a horn on his forehead. And if his ears weren't so long and pointed and stretching at each side like a horse busy listening to a call the source of which it's not sure about. Yep, his guest wasn't winning any contest for best human imitation, but still. He was humanoid. And wore clothes. A light blue shirt, and trousers, and – even shoes. And was still gorgeous, even more so than his four-legged self had been, but never mind. That didn't enter the equation here.
John went still...until a soft prod made his hand start back its soothing motion. If this was what the unicorn had come for, who was he to deny him? John almost spoke up, but noticed his new friend's eyes were still shut, and decided against it, in case he wasn't awake. He seemed like he could use the rest. John knew he wouldn't be able to fall back asleep, though, too many thoughts crowding in his brain. What had his life become? and when had he accidentally passed the border to fey land? Less than two hours after (by his estimate...possibly actually the decades he'd wished today, who knew), bright eyes opened. The unicorn looked aside at him, an almost shy smile on his lips. "...Pleasure to meet you?" John said. It might not be technically right, and he wasn't even sure if the other would speak any language he could understand, but what else could he say?
"The pleasure's all mine..." It was a rumble that went straight to John's spine, the hesitation at the end obvious.
Well, he might not have heard about unicorns specifically, but he knew about magic creatures in general, knew the wise thing to do...and then, of course, he didn't do it. "John." And it might still be fine if he stopped there, his name so common the other might think it a pseudonym and discount it. But then he had to add, "John Watson." His Nan would be so, so disappointed in him. But could any thrall the other might weave on him really be any more potent or risky than the one his mere existence in John's general vicinity already had him under? He doubted it.
"Sherlock." Sherlock moved away enough to shake his hand, and still John wanted to tug him back.
And because he was an idiot who couldn't keep his mouth shut, he added, "The lore's wrong, then."
"Oh?" Sherlock's head tilted.
"Unicorns don't do...this, well, nap, except with virgins, murdering anyone else they meet."
"Murder would be a bit much, don't you think? But no, that part is true. We keep up our defenses unless the person we're with is unclaimed."
John laughed. "Uh... your virgin detector, whatever you use for it, is a bit faulty, then. Not saying it because I didn't like our lie-down but you know, if it's important to you, I thought you should be aware."
He didn't know a huff could be haughty, but Sherlock's was. And being stared down didn't help the feeling. "I am perfectly capable of recognizing someone who's already been taken, I assure you."
"Yeah, well, I could give you a few names, and you can ask." This was becoming ridiculous. Did the unicorn think he knew whether John was a virgin better than John himself? Sherlock wasn't the one who'd been there for all of it!
"Don't be an idiot. I don't care where your dick has been, if that is what you're talking about."
"Uh?" ...Did unicorns have a different definition of virginity? Maybe something got lost in translation?
"I would care about it if you'd chosen a mate among them, but you're here alone. Of course you haven't. And you're very much unclaimed...and untouched..where it matters, for my personal tastes." A smouldering look was enough of an explanation.
It made sort of sense. People had their inclinations, and apparently unicorns too. So, they were normal. Magic, and not quite human, but...yeah. That sure came across well enough. John was a veteran and a grown man and...apparently, a virgin. Who was blushing like one and like he hadn't, when sex had been involved, in over fifteen years.
"Is that an offer to remedy the situation?" He tried to keep his voice light, grin, because – he knew how to deal with these things, damn it, he was supposed to! And even if he hadn't yet found a man he'd want to do this with, there was no denying he did want Sherlock. He had admired him from the start, and since he's seen his human shape, damn.
"There's something you should know, before throwing such words around." There was a spot of colour on Sherlock's cheeks too, now, and John curbed the dash of smugness rising inside him and nodded. He was listening. What if there were a few more anatomical differences than he'd noticed
Before he could work himself into a panic, the unicorn said, "There's a reason we stick to our rules. We're possessive. If we didn't, if we let ourselves bond with anyone...Let's say that the resulting fights, before we established that law, are part of why unicorns are so rare nowadays. So, John Watson, you had better ponder if you're ready for the consequences, if you really want to have that discussion."
John's mouth was so, so dry, but he was also grateful. That wasn't something you could rush into, even if he had yearned for nothing else seconds ago. "I will. But...until then, we could have a few more kips, right? It's not like I'm going to suddenly find another partner here. And maybe...I don't know what you do with your time, but I would like to know."
"That," Sherlock declared, "would be more than acceptable." In fact, it seemed right now was the time for it, as Sherlock settled back on him. John held in a giddy laugh. Things were going to be interesting.