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It was some time after his return from the ‘dead’. Of course, it was preposterous that he would die. He was dragon-kind, after all, and these were mere apes that wanted to best him. But the particular human that he was up against had the cunning of his enemies of old and nearly had him backed into a corner. So he played his foe’s little game to save the lives of the mortals that he now held dear. And with the help of Her, the one who counted, the one who held his heart, he was able to fool them all into thinking that he actually perished.
Now with his enemy’s web dismantled, his name cleared and his friends safe, he could come back. And return he did. His particular human- his Molly- she was there, the same way she always was. So small and frail and delicate, so kind and gentle. They were working their way around a relationship. Since he was now, for all intents and purposes, a human being, he could give her what she wanted. What he wanted. Out of impulse one day, he decided to take her to his estate deep, deep in the countryside. It was wild with forests still, like the Old Days. Back when his kind was revered and worshipped and feared. In his time abroad, he had practiced slipping in and out of his human form to that of his true form. He needed the practice again, or he felt he’d go mad. And his Molly could be there as a pleasant distraction for when he was again clad in skin and bone instead of scales and hide.
So one night, when the full moon was high overhead, he walked out into the woods, far into them to a field where the deer still fed in the dawn and dusk and the wolves gathered to hold their pack meetings (he once visited India and sat in on a wolf pack meeting- where the fate of a boychild was decided, to be brought up as one of the pack to foil and shame a certain jungle cat). He walked, his mind set on his goal and on his purpose. So intent was he, that he failed to notice that he was being followed. He reached his destination and shed the dressing gown that he used to clothe his nudity. He thought he heard an intake of breath, but further listening made him shake it off. Gathering his concentration, shutting his eyes, he began to shift and change.
It was an arduous, often painful process. But he could turn the pain into a sort of pleasure, shaping it to what he wanted. The thrill of skin turning to scales, the sweet stretch and ache of bones and muscles growing and changing to something five times his human size. The heat of the fire in his belly, the crackle and rasp of his wings, the jut of his horns and talons, the sharpness of his teeth. When he opened his eyes again, there was a dragon in the clearing. His senses were heightened, and he could see- the hot blood of deer in the forests, the paw prints of the wolves who gathered here and... he despaired. For right at the edge of the field was his Molly, her eyes wide and her mouth agape. She would want nothing to do with him now, she would leave and he would be alone and all of this would have been in vain. He had lost Her again. He gathered himself to launch into the air, to fly and desert this life, to give up. But she stopped him.
“Stay,” she said, her voice trembling. Taking tentative steps, she walked up to him, eyes gathering his new appearance. “How long have you lived? You’re absolutely massive! How long does this normally take you? Are you the only one? Can you fly or breathe fire? Can you speak like this?” her breath caught in her throat and she beamed, dazzlingly bright in the moonlight. He blinked in surprise, slit pupils dilating as he took her in.
“Yes, I can speak when I wear my shape,” he rumbled, the ground trembling as he shifted to look at her more easily. She started when he spoke, then blushed. He’d have to ask her about that later, when he changed back. “To answer your other questions- longer than thought or reckoning of your kind, and it depends on the day and how I feel... if I’m tired or hurt or sick, it takes considerably longer. I can breathe fire and fly, I believe there are a few of us left, but we hide and sleep to escape detection. Is there anything else?” She looked to be gathering her courage and nodded.
“Can I touch you?” she asked. The question threw him for a bit of a loop and he nodded. She walked closer to him, hands reaching out tentatively and then meeting his scales. He had not been touched in this form for so long that he had forgotten what it was like and he let out a noise that was in between a purr and a growl. It startled her and she moved away quickly.
“No, it’s all right. I just... I can’t remember the last time I was touched while in my true form,” he said, voice a little faraway. She continued, her hands moving along the burnished shine of his scales- black that turned to a red-gold at his throat, jaw, chest and belly. Her touch was both curious and somehow reverent. His chest suddenly ached- she saw him for how he really was, what he really was, and she loved him- she loved him- all the same. And she would too soon be gone. He swallowed hard- damning sentiment that caused the lump to form in his throat and his eyes smart. A dragon never cried- he’d been in his frail human shell for too long. She moved around to the front of him.
“Can... is it okay if you open your wings?” she asked, trying to tamp down her eagerness. He nodded again and sat up as he unfurled them, humming in a pleased fashion as his muscles stretched. She gasped and he looked down at her, eyes catching the light of the moon. He cocked an eyebrow and she blushed again.
“You... you’re so beautiful,” she said quietly. Now both of his eyebrows went up. He’d never heard that before- not from anyone.
“Stay here- I’ll be right back,” he said. She looked slightly alarmed.
“Where are you going?” she asked.
“To stretch my wings. I haven’t had a good flight in ages, and I’ve learned to stay below radar levels. I’ll return, I promise,” he told her. And he found that he was keen on keeping it. A good flight would help him clear his head a little, and he could change when he got back. He began to beat his wings, the wind from them making the trees shake and bend, making her long brown hair fly around her as she clutched his dressing gown to her chest (when had she picked that up? No matter...). He lifted up and- airborne. He was flying. He couldn’t resist a roar- something that made his very bones vibrate and his chest ache with it. Then he decided to show off for his Molly. He gathered up his fire and let loose a burst of flame that crackled in the cool night air and singed the clouds, turning the cool silver of the night into a bright, hot orange- he could hear her laughing below him, the sound giddy and joyous and awed, something that made his heart sing. Then he was up and gone. He did a quick lap around the town and a little further into a neighboring city, then he came back to the field where Molly was waiting for him. Her eyes were shining and she was sitting down on the ground, the grass dampening her nightwear and her skin that shone pale in the moonlight. He landed with a gentleness that was surprising for one so large as himself and she stood, moving over to him. He held up a huge hand and she instantly halted.
“I’m changing back,” he said. “It might be a little... disconcerting, so if you wish to avert your eyes, I will not fault you for it.” She snorted.
“Sherlock Holmes... or whatever your name is- if you think I’d miss the opportunity to witness that, you clearly have misjudged me,” she said.
“My name is unpronounceable in human speech, but you know me as Sherlock, so that’s what you can call me,” he said, a smile on his face that looked like he was baring his fangs. She didn’t flinch away and instead smiled back
And he realized yet another reason why he loved her. Not only did she accept him, she was curious as to the science behind him, behind how he worked and what he did. He gathered his concentration about him again, his bones shifting and cracking as they shrank, changing his reptilian skeleton into a mammalian one. His wings folded and disappeared, his horns, talons and teeth receded and his scales faded and vanished. The only thing that was left was, at the end, his eye color. He opened them and they were still the blood red of his dragon form, but they soon cooled into the pale and icy blue that made him human. She waited until he was done and gave her approval to come over to him. She approached him tentatively, like she had done before with his permission to touch. She gave him his dressing gown, which he donned, then he was suddenly faced with an arm full of pathologist. He could feel her heart beating against her ribcage, quick like a rabbit’s and loud like a drum, especially when he wrapped his arms around her in return. He nuzzled into her hair and they stood there quietly for a moment before she pulled away slightly. Her brown eyes searched his face and, seeming to find whatever answer she sought there, she pulled his head to hers and pressed a kiss to his mouth.
A growl rumbled from him (sounding so weak and frail in this human form) and he returned it desperately, the way he never thought he would. She arched into it and he could feel desire rising in him. Just as he thought it would, blissfully, never end, she broke the kiss and moved away, gasping for air, her mouth swollen from his.
“We should get back to the house,” she said softly. He nodded dumbly. “And we’re going to talk. Quite a bit. The stories you must have-!” He grinned- his Molly, always inquisitive.
“Yes,” he agreed. “But... there are a few conditions to this.” She looked suddenly apprehensive. “Firstly- there will be breaks for you to rest and sleep. I told you, I’ve lived since before human reckoning, and I don’t need the respite like you do. Secondly- I wish to kiss you more,” here she blushed the brightest yet “and thirdly- I want you to build and tend a fire.” She cocked her head to one side, questioning. “Call it a... long-standing wish of mine,” he clarified. She nodded and offered her hand. He took it, and in silence, they made their way back to the estate.