July 17 - Arkada

[pompey_01]

Title: Arkada 
Author: Pompey
Universe: BBC, AU
Rating: PG13
Warnings: Winglock AU, mpreg discussion
Word count: 1385
Summary: John is a Homo sapien. Sherlock and Mycroft are Homo aves. And now, John has a chance to become one of them.
Prompt: July 17 - Heat Flight Candor Suspicion Piquant “It’ll all come out in the wash”
A/N: see end of story

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John stared at the expanse of wings coming out of Sherlock’s back. They were large and jet black with a blue iridescent sheen. He gently reached and touched one of the feathers at the bottom of one of the wings. It wasn’t as soft as he expected; in fact it was almost coarse.

“It’s real,” he whispered. “You’re real. How . . . ”

“I’m a Homo aves. I am human, just a different species. Or possibly subspecies. Either way, still human. But Avian.”

“Do . . . do they . . . work?”

Sherlock made an amused noise. “I can fly with them, if that’s what you mean.”

“But . . . I mean . . . wings! How have I never seen them before?”

There was a smile in Sherlock’s voice though he didn’t turn around. “The short and somewhat inaccurate answer is: magic. The longer and still somewhat inaccurate answer is that Avian anatomy does not become visible to Homo sapiens unless the Avian chooses to reveal them.”

John swallowed and touched another feather further up on the wing. This one was softer than the first. “And you’ve chosen to reveal yours to me?”

“I trust you.”

John moved around to Sherlock’s side. Sherlock turned slightly, just enough to glance at him. “Are all, err, Avians like you? Do they look like this, I mean?”

“Mycroft’s wings are black like mine. Corvid traits tend to run in my family.”

“Corvids,” John repeated, searching his memory. “Those are ravens?”

“Ravens are in the corvid family, yes.” Sherlock gave John a quick, approving smile. “However, there is a large range of variety in wing colors, sizes, and shapes in the general Avian population.” He paused and looked John up and down. “You, for example, would almost certainly have raptor wings, likely some kind of hawk.” John gave a started laugh at that but stopped when Sherlock persisted.

“John . . . if you wanted, you could become an Avian.”

John eyed Sherlock with undisguised suspicion. “What?”

“There are ways,” Sherlock said carefully, “for a Sapien to become an Avian. Well, a way. Arkada. It is a something of a lengthy process and a rather dangerous one. It was done in ancient times to create new mates, diversify the gene pool, and increase the population. It’s rarely done today but it is still possible. Actually, it’s why I’ve chosen to reveal myself to you now. Certain necessary ingredients have become extremely difficult to procure, let alone in the necessary amounts. It’s only now that there are enough of these ingredients to produce an adequate amount of arkad.”

John was quiet for a minute. “What’s arkad?”

“It’s a liquid that contains certain hormone-altering substances, among other things. This would prepare your body for the transformation. For thirty days, you would consume arkad three times a day. At the end of the month, I would inject some of my blood into you –” Sherlock held up his hand to stop the protests he knew were coming “– yes, John, I know. I said it was a dangerous process. One of the purposes of the arkad is to stop the recipient’s body from rejecting the foreign blood.”

When he was sure John wasn’t going to go into a tirade about incompatible blood types and transfusion rejection, Sherlock continued. “If your body is able to accept and incorporate the triggers from my blood, you would begin to show Avian features after a week or so. Complete transformation can take anywhere from one to six months.”

“And at the end of those months, I would have wings? Like yours?”

Sherlock nodded. “You would have wings capable of flight, yes. And like mine, they would not be discernible to anyone you did not wish to notice them. The coloring, size, and shape would likely be different, though.”

John also nodded once, though more slowly. “What other physical changes would there be?”

Sherlock considered. “Toe claws. I need to trim mine daily or my socks get shredded. Your digestion may change; some Avians need a meat-heavy diet while some need to eat nuts and seeds. You will lose bone mass and compared to a human, your skeleton would appear to be severely osteoporotic. Normal body temperature would be closer to 40 degrees.”

John tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “And what else?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean there’s something else you’re not telling me,” John said, making breaking eye contact and holding it. “Sherlock, if ever there was a time for candor, this is it. What else would happen to me if I went through this process?”

The detective sighed. “I told you Arkada was used to create new mates. There is a fifty percent chance you would develop an ovary, oviduct, uterus, and vent with a cloacal valve. In short, John, you may become an Avian capable of reproducing with me.”

John’s eyes went huge. “Sherlock, are you saying I would lay eggs?”

Sherlock made a dismissive motion with his hand. “There is a chance you would develop the ability to lay eggs. But we are not chickens. We don’t lay eggs daily, only in the breeding seasons and even then only if fertilized.”

“Fertilized?!” Somehow, John’s eyes widened further.  “And during the breeding season, I would, what, go into heat?”

Sherlock fought down the wave of irritation but wasn’t entirely successful. “John. Birds do not ‘go into heat’ any more than humans do. IF you developed an egg-producing reproductive system – and there is an equal chance you would not – you still would not lay a single egg unless you had viable sperm deposited into said reproductive system. And I would never do that to you unless you wanted it.”  He paused. “I trust you already knew that last bit without me saying it,” he added gently.

John flushed slightly. “Of course I did. Do.” He cleared his throat. “So. This egg-laying business sounds like it would all come out in the wash, then.”

“As you say. The wings and toe claws and such are a given, though. It would take some adjustment and again, the process if a dangerous one. If the transformation is unsuccessful, it is almost always fatal.” This time it was Sherlock whose gaze held John’s. “Just as I would never mate with you without your consent, I would never ask that you attempt Arkada. I only offer you the choice. And you certainly don’t have to choose this minute. Learning that I am Avian was a lot to process on its own.”

John nodded again.  “I’m going to have to think about it. About everything.”

“Of course.”

“Is – is there any information written down, any texts or something that I could . . . ”

“Of course,” Sherlock said again, pulling out his phone. “Mycroft can get you access to almost anything research material you want. He is, on rare occasions, surprisingly useful.”

John turned away while Sherlock texted. He had many, many questions and nearly as many doubts. But deep down, he was buzzing with excitement and wondering how long he needed to wait to tell Sherlock he would do it.

Because really, who was he kidding? Despite all the risks and unknown factors, John knew he was going to attempted Arkada the moment Sherlock said that he too could have working wings.

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John looked down into the half liter of khaki-colored liquid with some unease. “The whole lot?”

Sherlock nodded with some sympathy. “As quickly as you can. I don’t know what it tastes like but I’ll get you some ice water for after.”

John managed a faint smile, raised the container in a toast, and brought it to his mouth. For all that it looked like cream, the arkad had the consistency of watered-down skimmed milk and tasted . . . . not exactly piquant but a bit sharp and astringent. Despite being liquid, it made his mouth and tongue feel dry and slightly fuzzy. The ice water was definitely going to be welcome. Determinedly, he gulped it down like a uni student with a pint.

When he had swallowed the last of the arkad, John inhaled deeply, accepted the glass of ice water, and smiled more reassuringly at a concerned-looking Sherlock. “Only eight-nine more doses to go,” he said.

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A/N: So this is NOT my usual material but I dunno, I read those first two words and got hijacked by a bunny of a different color. And then I started world-building and more importantly, anatomy-building and yeah.

Credit where credit is due, this story was influenced by JessamyGriffin’s Flighted Universe (https://archiveofourown.org/series/38974) and “A Dozen of Eggs” by reikoseishin (https://archiveofourown.org/works/1120641?view_adult=true)