Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The otters had multiple dens in the riverbank. The group, or raft, is quite large but this story focuses on one otter specifically, Sherlock. Sherlock is a young, long male with soft dark fur. He’s currently sunning on the riverbank, watching the other young otters chasing and playing with each other in and out of the water. All part of the courtship to find a partner - a wife or husband, someone to spend your life with. Sherlock’s family has been pushing him to find his mate or just take Irene as they thought she would be perfect for him. It got so bad, that he moved out of his family den.

No, Sherlock did not want to frolic about. The thought made his fur bristle. Other than finding food, boring, he spent his days looking for interesting things, bits and pieces other otters totally ignored. He wanted to know things. Things like what made different animals, well different. Physically and in behaviors. He studied how other animals moved and lived, studied their bones if he came across them. Sherlock realizes different plants tasted different. Sometimes eating a plant was just eating, sometimes it was good and seemed to help an animal that was hurt or sick, and sometimes it was bad and the animal died.

Sherlock mostly wants to figure out Jim the Hawk. Jim is a wonderful puzzle as most hawks just swoop down and grab their prey. Jim likes games. He doesn’t just swoop in, he’d chases and terrifies, manipulating his prey into dead ends or to having to make a choice between him or something else, still deadly but something else none the less. Jim’s favorite game is dropping his prey from different heights until it dies or he gets bored and just eats it. Yes, Sherlock the Otter is different from all the other otters.

The hedgehogs array had burrows nearer the forest, across a narrow clearing from the riverbank which houses the otters. Sometimes members of the groups would run into each other, of course. Basically, they would ignore each other most of the time. Neither preyed on the other and there was enough food for all. Again, there were many hedgehogs in this array of hedgehogs, but our story focuses on one hedgehog, John. John is a bit smaller than average for a male hedgehog. No hedgehog is as brave though. Well some, including Mary who he’s supposed to marry, say stupid but that’s beside the point.

The hedgehogs are forging in the clearing, noses to the ground to find the plumpest bugs. Most stayed in the underbrush but not John. He left the forging under cover to the others and wandered a bit away from them. One eye, and nose, to the ground, the other towards the sky. Death and danger coming from above always on his mind.

After a few minutes, John notices that Victor, a young hoglet, has waddled out of cover and into the open clearing. He barely caught up to him when a shadow overtakes them. Knowing that panicking won’t help his young charge, he tries to get him to run back to the safety of the forest, or at least the cover of the close by fallen sapling. Instead, Victor curls into a ball as instinct takes over his body, hoping his spikes would protect him. John bumps his head and grunts at him “RUN!” but the little hoglet curls up tighter, too afraid to do anything else.

There’s a loud screech so John whirls around to face the hawk as he lands with a thud. “Leave us alone!” John snorts loudly. “What? You’re going to stop me?” Jim, the hawk, laughs at him. “I think not!” He opens his beak as wide as he can to take a proper bite out of this insolent little snack, maybe even bite him in half. Jim shrieks out loud as John jumps as high as he can, sinking his incisors into his neck.

With a flap of his wings, Jim takes off. John hangs on, grinding his teeth further into the flesh between them. He probably won’t survive this so he might as well do as much damage as he can. Maybe his sacrifice will teach this particular hawk to leave the hedgehogs alone. Jim is almost to the river when he gives a strong shake of his neck. John loses his grip and falls. The ground rushes up at him, he hears a snap before everything goes black.

Sherlock heard the shriek and watches as Jim rises in the air. He’s never heard such a pained sound from the hawk. Jim drops his prey. No, wait. Sherlock realizes that Jim didn’t drop his prey as the animal hadn’t been clutched in beak or talon. Jim continues to fly away instead of circling back for another go. This wasn’t Jim’s normal game. He runs over to see what small animal had turned the table on the dangerous hunter.

Sherlock sniffs at the hedgehog’s body. He’s not surprised to catch a whiff of blood. He is surprised that the blood doesn’t seem to belong to the hedgehog. Moving closer still, then circling around the body, he gets a better look. The front left leg, or arm if you will, is in an unnatural position, the injury isn’t to the arm itself but the shoulder. The blood he smelled drenches the muzzle while a single hawk feather sticks out of the open mouth. Not a normal, meek hedgehog Sherlock thinks to himself. This one fought back, still the same outcome though. His heart tightens a bit at the loss of such a brave soldier.

Without thinking too hard about it, Sherlock goes to pick up the smaller boar (His mind supplying the fact that they are both called boars even though they are different animals.) As he gently slides his paws under the carcass and lifts, he hears a soft whimper. Sherlock almost, drops him in shock. He’s not sure how he didn’t observe that the hedgehog was still alive. Hurrying as fast as he dares, not wanting to cause more damage, he carries the injured animal back to his den. Sherlock would be angry with himself for not realizing that Jim in fact had circled back and was watching the otter and the hedgehog with intense, evil glee.

Sherlock gently lays the hurt body on his bed of leaves. He starts to gingerly run his paws over the hedgehog to see if he can feel any injuries besides the shoulder. While he doesn’t find anything else wrong, he’s not sure what to do about the shoulder as the joint doesn’t seem to be right.

“Who are you? Where?” a voice quietly asks but stops in a hiss of pain. Startled at the sound, it takes Sherlock a minute to answer. “Sherlock, I’m Sherlock. You’re in my den. You are?” “John. I’m John.” Sherlock lip slips up just a bit because even though the voice is weak, the jesting also comes through.

“My shoulder really hurts.” “I know,” Sherlock answers with a nod. “There seems to be something wrong with the joint. I just don’t know what or …” he trails off. “It’s out of joint,” John responds. “It needs to be popped back into place.” “How?” Sherlock turns a bit green as John describes what he’s going to have to do. Now Sherlock isn’t squeamish about bodies, well dead bodies, as he has examined many different carcasses in many different stages of decomposition. But doing what John just described seems like it’s going to cause him a lot of pain. No matter what other otters think, Sherlock really doesn’t want to cause anyone pain.

“Please,” John begs when he sees the otter hesitate. Looking into those pain-filled dark blue eyes, Sherlock gives a nod. First, he gathers a few good sticks, vines, and a piece of cloth he found. He also grabs a few leaves he gathered and dried along with some water. Sherlock crushes the leaves and adds them to the water, then holds it out to John.
“This will dull the pain.” Sherlock says out loud while thinking to himself and help you sleep for a bit. John can’t quite manage the drink on his own so Sherlock assists him in sit up a bit and holds the drink to his mouth. Once the drink is gone, John lies back down. “Let’s get this done.” Seeing the hedgehog’s courage, helps strengthen Sherlock’s resolve. He braces one paw on John’s chest, grabs hold of his arm and gives a strong sharp pull. John cries out as the joint pops back into place. Sherlock quickly wraps up the shoulder and arm with the supplies he had. John is trying to hid his discomfort from Sherlock. “Thanks, I’ll just go.” He starts to get up but Sherlock stops him almost touching him but stopping just short. “No, John. Stay and rest a bit. John looks into Sherlock’s eyes. They really are quite beautiful he thinks to himself before he gives a small nod and shuts his eyes. He soon drifts off. Sherlock fetches some water and wipes the blood from John’s muzzle. He doesn’t think about why he lightly caresses John’s cheek before moving into another room to let John rest. Besides Sherlock knows that he needs to stop Jim now. No more games. The hawk needs to be stopped.

John wakes up and stumbles into the other room. He finds sherlock laying on his back, paws folded under his chin, beautiful eyes closed. As he watches him, he tries to think how to thank him for setting his shoulder right. Settling on getting them something to eat would be a good way, he starts out the other doorway, figuring it’s the way out.
“No need to go out for food,” Sherlock says. John turns and says “What? How did you know I was going out for food?” Sherlock smiles at him, “I’ve got plenty of food and you’re not quite up to forging…” John’s quills ruffle a bit at that word so Sherlock quickly correctly. “I mean you’re not in hunting shape just yet.” John takes a deep breath then another because Sherlock isn’t wrong. Gesturing to the food on the other side of the room Sherlock invites John to help himself. John makes a couple of trips, being down a paw, but soon he has a small pile of food next to Sherlock. Could Sherlock have helped John, sure. But he knows the hedgehog wouldn’t have appreciated that. Once John is satisfied with what he spread out, he sits down and starts to eat.

“Thank you for fixing me up, feeding me, letting me stay. I hope your wife won’t mind?” “Wife, Not my area,” Sherlock replies. “Oh, then husband then, which is fine.”
“I know it’s fine, but no, no husband either.” “Oh, Ok.” John says, licking his lip and definitely not acknowledging that warm feeling hearing Sherlock isn’t mated gives him.
“Is there someone that’s home worrying about you?” Sherlock asks him while seeming very intent on picking through their selection - not to really take anything but to not meet John’s gaze. “No, no one really.” John replies. Sherlock feels like there are butterflies in his stomach and looks up to catch John’s eyes. They smile at each other. Pass a bit of time getting to know each other.

“You’re not eating?” John has realized that Sherlock hasn’t taken any food no matter how he studied it earlier. “I have a puzzle to solve. I don’t eat when I have a puzzle to solve, it slows me down.” “No, it doesn’t work that way.” John can’t help but giggle at the scowl on Sherlock’s face. Sherlock tries hard not to respond that that joyful sound but can’t resist and soon joins him.

John finishes his meal and puts away the rest of the food. “So what puzzle has you not eating?” “Jim, that hawk, needs to be stopped.” Sherlock answers. “Wait, you know the hawk’s name.” John asks, he’s worried about that but Sherlock just waves of the concern. “He’s powerful and oh so clever.” John feels his gut clench as Sherlock continues to describe Jim and his games. The otter seems fascinated by the predator. John focuses again on what Sherlock is saying. “I’m the only one that can stop him. Me, alone.”
“Friends help friends, Sherlock. You don’t need to do something like this alone.” Sherlock looks at John like he’s an idiot. “Go to bed, John.” Sherlock lies back down and closes his eyes, basically dismissing the smaller male. Feeling hurt and realizing that Sherlock isn’t about to tell him anything more, John goes back into the other room and curls up on Sherlock’s bed.

John finds Sherlock’s den comfortable and it feels more like home to him then the little room he has back in the array’s den. Sherlock finds having John in their den, his den, just right. The two talk for hours, about anything, topics silly to serious. Then other times, they don’t talk at all but it’s not awkward or uncomfortable, it’s pretty much perfect. Jim isn’t brought up again and the days pass.

One night, John tells Sherlock he’s going to go let his family and friends know he was alive. “You’ll come back?” Sherlock had asked shyly. “As long as you’ll have me,” he replied. Sherlock’s smile lit up the room. John didn’t run into any hedgehogs until he was almost to the forest. They had been staying closer to cover since John’s disappearance. The hedgehogs were surprised to see John. Most thought him dead when little Victor had come back home with his tale of John being carried away by the horrible hawk.

John wasn’t surprised that Murray, an old friend had dug a hole into the wall between their tiny rooms. He was surprised that Mary, who he thought he might as well settle with one day, moved in with Murray. The he realizes that he’s not angry at either of them or even sad about the situation. He’s not bothered by the situation at all. Sherlock has become much more important to him. Sherlock with is gorgeous eyes, his brilliant mind. That smile that only John gets to see, the laughter that seems to rumble out of his chest to join his own. Why is he here instead of there? He quickly says he’s goodbyes and heads back to Sherlock, to home.

Sherlock was a bit baffled on why John felt the need to go all the way across the clearing to see his family and friends. Sentiment he supposed. However, it doesn’t give him a day to himself. First, he clears out the room where he stores all the interesting stuff he collects, it’s a small room off his own. He puts down new bedding so John has a place to call his own. He pushes down the tingly feeling when he thinks of John moving in permanently. There is his plan to put into action. He can’t afford the distraction. Sherlock then seems to wander the clearing until he furtively ducks under a thorny bush and up to a hilltop. There’s a bunch of rocks to one side, a drop off to the river on the other. It’s barren and isolated and perfect for his plan. It doesn’t take long for the sounds of wings to reach him as Jim swoops down.

“Sherlock, my favorite otter! Are you finally ready to leave these boring, mundane creatures behind and join me?” Jim is practically strutting as he circles Sherlock. He’s so sure the otter is just like him. Unfortunate to be born in that insipid softly furred shape and stuck to crawling in the dirt and mud. Sherlock, though, is as smart as he is, such a cunning hunter when he lets himself loose. The moment is finally here. He’s sure the otter is joining him in his games. The havoc they will cause, the pain. The thought just makes him positively gleeful.

Sherlocks doesn’t try to watch Jim as he circles him. He is slowing inching him towards the rocks. If all goes well, he’ll be home before John returns. Home. John and his home, their home. Sherlock’s lips have lifted in a little smile without his realizing it. He loses his focus thinking of John. John, who is different not only in from other hedgehogs but from other animals in general. John’s smile, his giggles, his bravery, the little sniff he gives when Sherlock says something “not good.” John has changed his life for the better in all ways.

“DON’T IGNORE ME!” Jim screeches at him. Sherlock sakes his had and focuses once again on the hawk that has stopped in front of him. “Oh no! No! You ‘found’ someone.” Jim states sarcastically. “You ARE just like them! You’re boring, ordinary! It’s that tiny little hedgehog.” Sherlock’s eyes narrow fractionally at Jim mentioning John. “I saw you pick him up, take him into your den. He stayed with you for days before leaving. He’s coming back isn’t he? I will find him and finish him off.” Sherlock is stunned and unable to move. Jim continues “I will make sure he knows you are the reason I am playing with him! I will make him regret meeting you! I will make him HATE you! I will burn the HEART out of you!” Jim continues to describe all the horrible things he’ll do to John as he moves away from the rocks, away from the trap Sherlock had set up. Sherlock is trying desperately to figure out a way to get the hawk back towards those rocks, those precariously balanced rocks that would trap him. Jim finishes with a harsh laugh, and points to the trip vine. “Did you think I wouldn’t see that? You really are a disappointment. Not as smart as you think you are. Once I’m done with that little piece of nothing, and you’re empty inside, I will put you out of your, well, my misery.”

Before Sherlock can move or answer, a streak of golden brown goes past. John runs as fast as a short-legged hedgehog can run and launches himself at Jim bellowing a war cry that would freeze any animal's blood. Jim staggers a couple of steps toward the drop off, out of shock and the weight (slight as he is, John is pretty solid) slamming into him.
“JOHN!” shouts Sherlock as he springs at the pair. “NO!” The additional weight carries all three, screaming over the edge. They hit the water hard, a snap almost unheard over the splash. Underwater, they trio separate.

Sherlock recovers fastest and breaks through the surface. He looks around frantically for John. John surfaces next, close by, sputtering and gasping. Sherlock swims over and grabs him before getting them both to the riverbank. They lay there for a minute, breathing hard. They turn to glare at each other “What the hell were you thinking?!” they both scream at each other at the same time.

“This is how you get your kicks? Putting yourself in danger to prove your clever?” John shouts at Sherlock. “You’re one to talk!” Sherlock yells back. “You just threw yourself at a bird 10 times bigger than you!” The two stare angerly at each other. After a minute though the giggles start. The giggles die down and John says “that was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.” Sherlock snorts and they begin giggle all over again.

That’s how Mycroft, Sherlock’s brother, finds them, soaking wet and giggling, on the muddy riverbank. “Can you two behave yourselves for a minute, please.” The pair fight their giggles stopping after few moments. “We found Jim’s body just downstream, neck broken, so well done.” The two look at each other. The giggling starts again. Mycroft sighs and shakes his head, leaving his brother and companion on the river bank. Sherlock and John get up and start back home. They walk silently side by side, gently bumping together now and then. Silently agreeing to wait to talk, and talk they will, when they get home. Well first maybe getting cleaned up and some food.

Clean and full, the two den mates sit down, facing each other, to talk. John motions for Sherlock to ask his questions first. The otter is positively vibrating with the need to know, as he hates not knowing things. Sherlock fires off his questions, one after the other. “What happened when you got to the array? How did you end up on that hilltop? Why would you ever throw yourself at Jim? Put yourself in that kind of danger?” Sherlock’s voice rises with each question and he swallows down a sound that was almost a sob and looks away. “He could have killed you," he barely gets out. It's is whispered so softly that John barely heard him.

John reaches out his paw and gently pats Sherlock’s knee, leaving his paw there. “Hey,” Sherlock’s multi-colored eyes find John’s. “I’m here, You’re here. We’re here and we’re safe.” John gives Sherlock a moment or two. When Sherlock nods at him to continue, he does. Nothing to startling about what happened at the array. Sherlock figured most of that out while they ate. Sherlock didn’t figure out the part about Mary. How John thought of settling down with her as his wife as he was “supposed” to do. That does twist his heart. John doesn’t miss the quick look of hurt in his eyes before he lowers them. He gives another little pat to Sherlock’s knee. “She is nothing Sherlock. I only wish her and Murray a good life.” John pauses to make sure Sherlock understands that.

John explains that he saw Sherlock slip under the bush. John decided to follow him, his curiosity getting the better of him. He didn’t expect the path up the hill or finding Sherlock talking to Jim. (“You will explain that!” John says sharply) or at least being talked at by Jim. How it wasn’t a hard decision, no decision at all really, to try to tackle Jim off the edge once he threated Sherlock. “But why John?” Sherlock asks, sounding so vulnerable. John smiles and gives his knee another squeeze. “Tell me how you came to know Jim? Why you were on top of that hill. Then I’ll tell you.” John softly replies.

Sherlock wants to know John’s reason, it seems very important to know the answer immediately. However, after sweeping his eyes over John, he observes that John needs to know first. And isn’t it surprising that Sherlock is going to put that need in front of his own. He begins by telling how he first noticed the hawk. How Jim trapped prey, not just by swooping in and grabbing them. How there was clever planning and an intricate dance involved. One day Sherlock saw Jim land on top of that hill and went up to see if he could spy on him. Jim was waiting for him though, told him they were the same and when Sherlock was ready to join him, to signal him to meet there, in “their” spot by walking a specific pattern in the clearing.

John can’t keep the grimace from his face at the same gut clenching reaction to Sherlock’s fascination with the Hawk. How it worries and, quite frankly, disgusts him a bit. He goes to rock back a bit and remove his paw but Sherlock quickly covers it with both of his. “John,” there was so much conveyed in the way Sherlock said his name. John realizes that Sherlock knows how he feels and is ashamed of that fascination. For thinking he had to do it alone, was the only one to do it. That he is sorry for it, regrets it.
John nods and Sherlock continues. Once he saw what Jim did to John, he knew it had to end. He didn’t want John’s assistance, wanted him safe. While John went back to his den, Sherlock talked to his brother to arrange the trap. Hoping that all would end the way he planned, Sherlock fixed up John’s room then “wondered” the clearing in their pre-arranged signal. The plan was to get Jim to trip the vine, causing the rocks to fall and bury the hawk under them. That, obviously, didn’t work and John knew the rest.

During Sherlock’s story, paws had become entwined together and the pair were sitting even closer. “Why John?” Sherlock asks again looking at their clasped paws. John gives Sherlock’s paw a gently tug. “Look at me Sherlock,” Sherlock reluctantly raises his eyes. “I believe you know why. The same reason you tried to protect me. At least I hope it’s the same reason.” Their heads have moved until they are just a whisker apart. Sherlock whispers “John.” “I love you, Sherlock.” John whispers back before their lips touch.

A few weeks later, Sherlock comes out of his storage room. Yes, that room is a storage room, John never moved into that room. He pulls out another piece of cloth thinking it will be perfect for their needs. John’s shoulder is feeling much better and the couple is going to celebrate with a picnic under the full moon. A bit dangerous, maybe. But they both like a touch of danger. After finding a lovely spot that has protective cover nearby, they both like danger but neither is willing to put their partner in harms way, they spread out the cloth and set up their picnic. There’s a warm wind blowing, making the leaves give off a soft sound as it moves them. Small insects chitter and a nearby spring babbles. It’s almost like a melody playing just for them. Sherlock reaches for John and pulls him close. The two hold each other, swaying to that soft song. John looks into the eyes that have captivated him since the beginning. He smiles and twirls Sherlock a little bit. Sherlock answers his smile with one of his own. He needs John’s smiles more than any puzzle that might capture his attention.

“Marry me, Sherlock” the shorter one whispers. “Of course, John” the taller one answers.

******************

Here are the lyrics to the song Muskrat Love by Captain and Tennille as I heard them in my head and so this fic was born. there's a link after if you want to watch the video of the real song.

Otter, Hedgehog candlelight
Doin' the town and doin' it right
In the evenin', it's pretty pleasin'
Otter Sherlock, Hedgehog John Sam
Do the jitterbug
Out in the forest land
And they shimmy
John is so skinny
And they whirl and they twirl and they tango
Singin' and jinglin' a jango
Floatin' like the heavens above
Looks like true love
Nibblin' on bacon, chewin' on cheese
John says to Sherlock
Honey, would you please be my Mr.?
Sherlock says yes, with his kisses
Now, he's ticklin' his fancy
Rubbin' his toes
Muzzle to muzzle now
Anything goes
As they wiggle
John starts to giggle
And they whirl and they twirled and they tango
Singin' and jinglin' a jango
Floatin' like the heavens above
Looks like true love
And they whirl and they twirl and they tango
Singin' and jinglin' a jango
Floatin' like the heavens above
Looks like true love
Do, do, do, do, do
Do, do-e, do
Do, do, do, do, do
Do, do-e, do
Do, do, do, do, do
Do, do-e, do
Do, do, do, do, do

Original song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xBYV_7a0FQs

Chapter Text

Not sure how to post the picture but here's the link to it:

https://www.tumblr.com/chained-to-the-mirror/747475498861559808/the-lovely-peanitbear-bid-on-me-on