#fairy!john

[jeffmadsrqandrp]

Some suuuuuuuper old sketch drawings I found in my school journal, thought I'd show em off!

((The last one is Fairy john, and I blame @altruistic-geek ))

[neverendingfanart]

Merman!Sherlock and fairy!John.

[sherlockianh]

Fairy!John?

Has anyone invented fairy!john? Like not sparkly princess fairies like kick ass warrior fairies? Idk cause like that’d be awesome. And he’d fight in the mouse war or something like mice attacked their awesome little fucking home and John’d be like “AH FUCK NOA!!” And kick ass and get a bite to the shoulder. and Sherly could be this human who’s like “oh am gawd fairies what the fuck” or he’s a fairy too ohhhhh yeah that’d work. Myc would be like the king fairy and Sherlock would be the prince *gasp*

And they could live in trees. And carve posts and beautiful things out of the barks and branches of trees. And Lestrade could be head of the guard. And Mrs. Hudson could be the little old nanny fairy that watches Sherly.

OHMYGAWD I WANT THIS SOMEONE DO THIS

[puffologic]

This was a lot of fun, not sure if you got cut off, stranger, but message me if you want to continue. I loved your Sherlock and you caught on quick which is always the best.

[goobinggoober]

.

[beneath-the-fullmoon]

John's a...fairy?

You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!

You and the stranger both like Sherlock.

Stranger: Four inches tall was a very good size to be, normally. John tended to enjoy being four inches tall, even though he was shorter than a number of others of his kind. Four inches tall, however, was a hateful size should one find themselves in an unexplored flat with a human still in it. At least this human did not own a cat. John was starving, however, and explored or not he knew there had to be a kitchen, which meant food. Nervously stepping out from his place in the shadows, John made a dash for the kitchen, leaping into the air as he moved, his orange and gold wings lifting him into flight. He landed softly on the counter and glanced around himself, trying to make sense of where best the food would be kept. He stepped forward, knocking into something invisible. He stumbled back and rubbed at his head, placing a hand out: Glass. He had been trapped by glass. He turned trying to find a way out, but all around, even up, glass. John pounded on it, craving freedom. Capture was not an option, not when humans were so willing to kill his kind.

You: ((Is John a fairy?))

Stranger: ((yup.))

You: Sherlock couldn't help but grin smugly at the creature he had managed to snag. He had known fairies existed, regardless of earlier research and this simply sealed the deal. Restraining from jumping in glee he couldn't help but grin wider. "I knew it! Oh god this is brilliant, think of all the data to be collected. Experiments to be done. God it's Christmas."

Stranger: John continued to pound against the wall of glass until he heard the word experiments. He froze, his eyes widening. In a fit of panic, he lifted off the ground and buzzed into the glass, trying to force his was out, like an angry wasp. No change in surroundings. He collapsed, spent and hungry, and shook his head. He was such a fool. "P- Please," he begged. "Please let me go." He knew what humans could do to his kind. Kill them. Pin them to walls as they did butterflies and dragonflies. Was that to be his fate? A prize on display. A body to be carved open. No, he would not allow it. John was a soldier. He'd get out of here alive.

You: Sherlock couldn't help but raise a brow at the little creature. "Let you go? That's a stupid idea. Why would I let you leave when I haven't gotten to collect anything yet? Honestly." Knowing the little creature would need air soon Sherlock lifted the glass and gently grabbed the small man by the waist. He was so light. It was incredible, were their bones hollow? Lightly pinching and lifting a wing Sherlock began to examine it. The entire thing was extraordinary and if he were lucky there was perhaps a chance he could learn about their culture as well. "Do you have a name of some sorts?"

Stranger: John tried to run, but was already in hand. He shifted and wiggled, trying to dislodge himself from the hand grabbing him. If he could just get away... A hand on his wing forced his eyes wide, and the untouched wing fluttered quickly, upset. John cried out, distressed and upset. "Stop it! Please, stop!" He couldn't touch his wings, his wings were personal, private! His hands balled in the other's skin, nails digging into the pale flesh. "I will tell you if you stop touching me like that." A lump filled his throat.

You: Feeling a slight pinch Sherlock raised a brow before letting go of the wing. "Interesting. Did that hurt? I'm sorry." Seeing the fairy so distressed Sherlock decided it would be best to be on his best behaviour. He needed the creature to like him on some level if it was going to answer his questions.

Stranger: John's wings slowed as the human released them, and he took a deep breath. Great, now he felt unclean. "Wings are private. You- you may not touch them." His grip released and he took another deep breath. "My name is John." A promise was a promise. "Are you going to kill me, human?"

You: "Private? Hm. Are they the fairy equivalent of genitals or something?" Tilting his head, Sherlock couldn't help but look at the fairy--John--with fascination. "No, John. I am not going to kill you. That would be counterproductive. Actually, I just want to learn about you. Your people, and while I will be frank, you anatomy is quite intriguing, I have no intention of hurting you in any way." Well, not really, he added mentally. "The name is Sherlock Holmes."

Stranger: He shook his head, still trying to squeeze himself out of the grip. No, they had genitals elsewhere. The wings were just extremely sensitive, especially in erotic ways. "Then do not treat me as a prisoner," he snapped, defensive. "Sherlock, put me down." His wings were dry - the second he was out of the grip he could fly off. Go anywhere but here. Never see this human again.

You: Sherlock frowned and loosened his grip slightly but didn't let go. "While I would, John, I know you will simply try to leave. I do not want to enslave you but this is a rare chance for me as a scientist." Moving to the fridge Sherlock frowned, he was lucky Mrs.Hudson had done some shopping for him, and he pulled out a slice of bread, some cheese as well as a bit of fruit and put it on a plate. "If you promise to stay. I will release you and you can have this food. If not, I have more glasses."

Stranger: Eyes widening at the sight of the food, John nodded. "Yes, very well." He was starving, and it was exactly what he needed. Bread, cheese, especially the fruit! And there was so much! "The entire time I am eating I will answer any and all questions. But after that I get to leave." He would anyway. Eat until finally taking off.

You: Sherlock frowned, "If you leave you will not come back." It was true, his deductions left no other option and whilst he was alright to compromise if it brought results losing the specimen all together was not an option.

Stranger: Well, John couldn't deny the truth. But suddenly there was thunder outside and drops of water began to hit against the window. Right. The other reason he had taken cover. His wings lowered, hope gone, head still turned towards the window. The curse of being a fairy in rainy London. "I can not leave. There is no point now."

You: Raising a brow Sherlock looked at the window before glancing back at John. "Can you not fly in the rain?"

Stranger: John's eyes did not leave the window and the storm clouds outside of it. He slowly shook his head. "If I didn't plummet to my death, I'd drown." He blinked and tore his eyes away. "You now know I can not leave. Let me eat." His stomach rumbled for effect.

You: "Fascinating." Letting John down onto the plate Sherlock leaned against the counter and looked the tiny thing. "You must drink. Do fairies have tea?"

Stranger: He dug into the food, pulling handfuls of bread and especially focusing on the fruit, the main staple of his people's diets. He looked up at the mention of tea. "Hot water flavored by leaves. Yes." He nodded. But what did the human have that would be small enough for John to drink from?

You: Interesting. He had brewed himself tea earlier and so took one of the plastic caps off of his microscope and used it as a tiny cup. He hardly used the eye piece covers anyway. In all the cap was about the size of a thimble and after a quick wash it was filled with tea and placed in front of John. "Do you just prefer the fruit or can you not eat the rest of it?"

Stranger: John sipped at the tea and a small smile lit his face. Nothing like a good cuppa. "Prefer the fruit." As proof that he could eat the rest, he took a bit of cheese and bit into it. Mmm, cheese. He sipped again at the tea. "I can't eat meat, though. My people are herbivores, mainly."

You: Nodding Sherlock scribbled some notes before tilting his head. "You never answered my question about your wings."

Stranger: "No, not genitals," he murmured, flushing. "Extremely erogenous, however. And private. Only mates and healers may touch them." He took a bit of a blueberry, eating it rather like an apple.

You: Taking more notes Sherlock crossed one leg over the other as he stood and undid the top button of his shirt. While the room was slightly chilly, he hated the tight feeling of this particular shirt around his throat. This is why he had insisted no one get him more than accessories as gifts. "Do you mate for life? Is there an official process than one goes through so that it is recognized by the community? Are all pairings permissible or only males and females?" the questions were buzzing through his head as he tried to picture their society and biological habits.

Stranger: John's eyes widened at the river of questions. "Well, I suppose it depends on the fairy. Most don't, no, but others decide they want to be exclusive." He tilted his head. "I don't know what you mean. Official?" His wings fluttered slightly. "Any and all. Of course. Why wouldn't it be?" These were odd questions.

You: Writing furiously Sherlock decided to take a seat on a nearby stool. "So most fairies just have intercourse with whoever tickles their fancy at the time, then move on after what I assume are some sort of disagreements." Odd. Was there no government? Or perhaps there was but it didn't take from it's people and thus legal notice was unnecessary. Instead of asking another plethora of questions Sherlock decided to go about it another way. "What do you know about humans?

You: "

Stranger: His tiny tummy full, John had finished eating, and now settled on the edge of the table to watch Sherlock. "Why must there be a disagreement?" You have sex and then you move on. It was how it worked. He considered the question a moment, before finally answering, "Not very much. I know the females produce children. You live in boxes. You keep animals as pets and pin insects to walls." He considered further. "You can swim."

You: "Are there not emotional investments in your relationships? Or is intercourse and emotional attachment separate?" Flipping the page in his moleskin Sherlock took a sip of his own tea. "Interesting. Do females produce the offspring in your kind? Also, what about human mating, do you know anything about that?"

Stranger: "Separate," he answered, already a bit bored by it all. "Emotional attachment is much more important than base sex." Feeling brave, he fluttered over to Sherlock and landed on his shoulder, looking down at the writing, before jumping in surprise. "Offspring?" He laughed a bit, a tinkling sound that was more bell than laugh. "No, no. Don't you know anything? Our kind aren't born of mother or father." Stupid.

You: Raising a brow Sherlock couldn't help but school his best glare on John. "Obviously not. If I did I wouldn't be asking, don't be an idiot." Feeling snuffed Sherlock brushed the fairy off onto the easy chair in his living room before taking his usual spot in the chair opposite. "What is the point of having sex for your kind then?" He decided to ignore the fact that /once again/ the fairy hadn't answered one of his inquiries.

Stranger: John rolled his eyes and recited, as though it had been drilled into him, "When a human child laughs for the very first time, that laugh bounces around until it becomes a fairy." He shook his head, before suddenly going tumbling off, only catching himself moments before he hit the cushion. The chair was huge, and John settled comfortably on the arm of it. "Fun. It's for fun." He tilted his head. "But humans do it for children, correct?" Pity that they didn't understand.

You: "Not always no. It depends. While some humans get together to have intercourse simply because they are attracted to each other the standard is that two people come together and develop an emotional connection. This is usually done by what we call dating, you go out and spend time to get to know one another. After some time physical intimacy is achieved and sex is used because not only is it fun but it brings to two people closer together, or so I'm told." Shrugging Sherlock sat back in his chair comfortably. "When people truly love each other--though it isn't usually in this case and tends to involve money, scandals, the list goes on--they get married. That means that those two people belong to one another in the eyes of society and the law. It is meant to be until death but nowadays if they lose that emotional connection they get divorced. It is rather complicated though, it wasn't until recently that pairings other than those between a male and a female could get married and officially recognized."

Stranger: "That's ridiculous," John murmured with a shake of his head. "Doesn't sex make the emotional attachment difficult and complicated?" Or so he was told. John tilted his head. "You are not intimate with anyone. And you are not 'married'?"

You: "I suppose it does. However as human intercourse in theory leads to offsprings we are wired to generally think about the act as a commitment of sorts. Children are hard word and while doable alone it is easier with two people to care for the offspring. Plus with the emotional attachment it brings more layers to the actual intercourse than just physical sensation. Does your kind not have intercourse with those they are emotionally intimate with?" Sherlock wrote a few notes here or there. "No" he drawled out the word, bored, "I'm not very good with being overtly emotional. I am too logical for my kind."

Stranger: John shook his head. "It's rare. There are some fairies who, I have heard, are like your kind. But for most of us love and sex do not cross. They are two entirely separate things." He glanced around the flat now and stood to get a better view of the room. "Do you live here alone?" Sherlock seemed... decent. But he was not good with his own kind? Perhaps he was lonely. "Do you have friends?"

You: Sherlock jotted down the comments on the separation of love and sex. He had to admit, the idea was foreign even to him. It seems biological tendencies were ingrained even in him. "Alone? Yes. As for friends, I do not have any. Enemies, yes. Friends no. I suppose since they are different partners do not worry about their loves falling for whomever they having sex with?"

Your conversational partner has disconnected.