My take on Ice Prince Sherlock from @thetwelfthpanda‘s fantasylock au. It’s SUCH a cute au I NEED MORe 

AO3

Daily Drawing # 18

Mage!Mycroft from Fantasy!lock RP with the lovely Sara being a badass

Stranger: [Fairy!lock AU] Sherlock darted through trees swiftly, wings tucked safely in to avoid snagging the delicate appendages on anything that might tear them. He wasn't technically supposed to leave the veil, but it grew horribly stifling sometimes being confined at home- being the Winter Court prince, he didn't exactly get out much. It was exhilarating though, to flit about in the human's world. So many dynamic sensations and things to experience, even the way the wind whipped through his thin clothing was entirely different here. The fairy was currently caught up in dragging delicate fingers over a tree trunk to draw frosty patterns, not paying attention to the approaching footsteps behind him.

You: He couldn't fly anymore. An owl's talons to one's shoulder often did that, although John wondered if they were really damaged sometimes. From what he could see of his own wings (rather autumn-leaf-like in colour) there was nothing physically wrong with them, but all the same, John couldn't fly. He had, in fact, been abandoned on this side of the veil. It was rare to see anyone from home, even if it was a snow fairy. "Bit early, aren't you?" He called up to the other. "The change of season doesn't happen until later this month." He knew when the change of seasons were like the back of his hand, as John had once been a guard during them, a soldier and healer. Now he was an outcast, dead to his kind. He typically hid during the change of season now.

Stranger: Sherlock whirled around as he heard the voice, eyes widening as he spotted not the human he had feared running into but... one of his own kind. Autumn court, from the looks of it. "I'm... just here visiting," he explained, fingers drawing away from the tree now. It was Autumn's seasonal jurisdiction. Had they sent one of theirs to retrieve him. Icy blue eyes narrowed. "You weren't sent out to bring me home, were you?" he inquired, hoping very much that was not the case.

You: "From Autumn court?" John laughed. It was hardy, but bitter. No, they wouldn't trifle with him anymore. He shook his head. "I'm afraid I'm not welcome beyond the veil anymore." Not that John could get there even if he was. "Come down, I don't like shouting. Draws attention." Not that their voices were anything more than bells to humans, but humans liked bells and typically sought them out. John had learned that the hard way. His right wing twitched behind him, the left stiff.

Stranger: Sherlock flitted down from the higher branches, bare feet touching down on the leaves that littered the forest floor. He furrowed his brows. "Why are you not welcome? Did you commit some sort of treason? They usually only banish us for treason." Perhaps he sounded a bit too excited at the prospect, but meeting a criminal would certainly take this day from interesting to absolutely fascinating.

You: Those in Winter Court were always supposed to be so beautiful, but John couldn't believe the fairy before him. Sharp features, snow-kissed skin, dark curls. Eyes like ice itself. John was almost cold looking at him. He folded his arms and shook his head. "No. I'm injured. They like to say they only banish us for treason, but the fact is I was useless and a hassle to get back to Autumn Court. So they left me."

Stranger: The prince tilted his head as if to convey his confusion, though an almost childlike concern showed on his face now. "They just left you? Well what's wrong? Your wings look fine to me. Here, let me see," he requested. In a flash of movement he was standing behind the other fairy, spreading his wings gently to inspect them for any tears. "They're not ripped or anything..."

You: "I can't fly," he explained, hissing in a breath as the other spread his wings. It was incredible what just someone else's touch could do. John had a lump in his throat. He had been alone for so long and just the touch of another of his kind was overwhelming. "Are you sure?" He asked, surprised by the news. "The left one. The left one is injured. The owl attacked my left side." John tugged off his shirt and revealed a large scar that stretched from his shoulder down to the bottom of his ribs.

Stranger: Sherlock got down on his knees, running cold fingers over the autumn fairy's warm skin, tracing the scar and following it back to the delicate wings. "No, the scar stops just before them. It doesn't even look like any nerves or muscle would be severed leading to them." He stood back up and looked at John. "Your wings should be working just fine. Are you sure it's not just all in your head?" he inquired carefully.

You: No one had ever examined his wings. John had fallen and been left for dead. It had been a miracle he had not been devoured by the beast that had cut him open. He flushed at the question. The idea of being capable of flying again was beautiful - but the shame of knowing he was still here from a mental wound rather than a physical wound was powerful. "No. It couldn't be. The wing doesn't move. It's useless."

Stranger: "I doubt that," Sherlock replied, flitting away from him now. He hovered a few feet off the ground, just out of the other's reach. "What's your name, by the way? I don't think I caught it," he noted, moving closer now so he was practically right in his face. "You were a soldier, weren't you?" he added on, layering the questions before he had a chance to answer the first.

You: Could it really still be operational? John looked back at the appendage and felt along the edge of it. Carefully he attempted movement and it shifted just barely. Not nearly enough to fly. "Hm?" He turned back to look at the other, pulling back with the realization he was in his face. "Oh. Um, John. Well, Johain, but I go by John." He smirked. "How could you tell?"

Stranger: Sherlock paused meaningfully, letting his gaze drop down to John's torso before meeting his eyes again. "You might not be in peak shape at the moment, but it is clear that you have a soldier's build. Surprisingly well maintained for someone stranded beyond the veil, actually. Not to mention only soldiers get close enough to the owls for that sort of injury." He pulled back slightly, giving John a full view of him. "My name is Sherlock. Now, what do you think I am?" he challenged with a grin.

You: "I can't let it go. I'm in danger constantly out here. I need to be in top form or I could die." Still, John smirked and nodded. "That was brilliant, though. Amazing, really. His smirk shifted to a grin. "Well, Sherlock," he considered the fairy before him. "Obviously you're a frost fairy. Um... you're part of the lot that prepares for the coming of winter."

Stranger: Sherlock smirked. "Close. I do assist, but that's not the end of my accolades," he replied. "A hint: I assist as preparation for a position I will eventually be taking over. Not a position I'm keen on taking over, but one that I must. However, I do have an elder brother that will be taking over an even more arduous one after the passing of our parents."

You: John knew he was just being teased. He doubted there was any way he was going to guess this. A position he would eventually take over, huh? "Um, oh gosh. So you're definitely forced into it, because you have to take the position. Your older brother has something after your parents pass. I'm not-" It dawned on John then and his eyes widened. He chuckled a bit then and shook his head. "Like hell. You're pulling my leg. Like hell are you a prince of the Winter Court."

Stranger: His smirk only widened, and he straightened up, performing a teasing little curtsy in mid-air. "Prince Sherlock, the youngest royal member of the Winter Court, at your service," he purred. "Well, not really at your /service/, but in your company at least, certainly," he chuckled.

You: John shook his head once, face falling, before he lowered onto one knee. His right hand balled into a fist and he cross it to his left shoulder, head bowed. A soldier's salute. "Your highness." The four royal families - those of Spring, Summer, Autumn, and Winter - acted together and as close friends. There was no war among the fairies and, thus, the soldiers of one season were expected to care for those of the other houses if a soldier from their court could not be found. "You shouldn't be out. You should go back to court." Left for dead or not, John knew his duty.

Stranger: Sherlock rolled his eyes, dropping gracefully back down to earth. "Stand up, John; none of that useless ceremony is necessary here. And besides, why would I go back there when everything is so much sharper here? So much newer and more interesting?" he inquired, conjuring up a soft patch of snow for him to stand on. Much more comfortable than the crunching leaves. "I'll go back when you are ready to escort me back, deal?"

You: He looked up at the prince and slowly rose, looking less than comfortable. "Everything is dangerous here, m'lord. It is terrible and frightening and difficult." A prince away from court meant a search party. And once they realized Prince Sherlock was not in any of the four kingdoms, the search would move beyond the veil. And it could mean trouble for John. Especially if they found him with the prince. John took a step back from the snow. Too cold for his tastes, his wings could freeze. What he was going to do when Winter came to the land beyond the veil, he didn't know. Die, probably. "I will never be able to escort you back," he responded. "Besides, they'll come for you."

Stranger: "They'll come for me, yes. But if we can get you back in the air before they think to look beyond the veil, you can bring me home and be hailed as a hero," Sherlock explained with a grin. "So that's the challenge then, isn't it? How to shock you out of that silly little notion that your wing isn't working when it's perfectly intact. Hmmm," he hummed, considering the options. "As a soldier, you are compelled to protect any of the royalty of the fairies, yes? It is your absolute duty?" He flew up then, high into the trees where birds were more likely to see him. "Come get me down then, John."

You: A hero. John tipped his chin up. He had once been a captain, respected and admired. To go home a hero - it would be something, huh? "It's not a silly notion," he argued, raising his voice as the other grew further away. "Yes, that's my du- Prince Sherlock!" He shifted uncomfortably, scanning the tree branches for hawks or owls or any other carnivorous birds. He swallowed hard and moved to the nearest tree, attempting to scale it with nothing but his hands and feet. He got barely three centimeters off the ground before it proved impossible. "You're going to get yourself eaten!"

Stranger: "Not if you come save me," the prince called back, grinning brightly. "Come on, John, you can do it. All you have to do is fly up and take my hand an-" the prince froze, catching something out of the corner of his eye then.

You: John grit his teeth and jumped into the air, only to hit the ground again. "I can't!" He shouted, before freezing as Sherlock's words cut off. "What? What is it? Your highness?" He swallowed hard, looking among the trees and seeing it. A hawk had taken interest in the prince and was moving there in the shadows. That was unacceptable. John swallowed hard, trying to get his wings to move. They wouldn't budge! But just as the hawk dove, John was in the air, snatching the prince out of the way. "You stupid child!" He shouted, diving to find safety, practically dragging the prince behind him. "You could have died!"

Stranger: Sherlock had been genuinely afraid for all of about two seconds, and then suddenly he was being pulled out of the path of danger, dragged back down into the safety of the tree cover. Adrenaline pumping and heart racing, the winter prince grinned brightly at the captain, cupping his face and kissing him hard in his excitement. "You did it! You saved me! You're flying!" he exclaimed breathlessly.

You: John landed on a tree branch and turned back to the prince, looking furious and ready to snap, but suddenly lips were on his and John couldn't help but melt like ice under a spring sun. He shifted a bit, moved to tangle his hand into those curls, but Sherlock's lips were gone. "I-" he looked back to his wings and shifted his left effortlessly. A smile rose on John's face. "I did it. I really did." He then turned back to Sherlock and smacked his arm. "Do you have a death wish?"

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled, resting comfortably against John, arms sliding around his neck. He never was one to concern himself with the personal space expectations of others. "No, just enough madness in me to risk my life to get you airborne again. I knew it would work," he claimed, humming as if pleased with himself.

You: This was the closest John had ever been to a royal. "You've given me back my life," John murmured, gently cupping the prince's face. "I am forever in your debt, m'lord." His eyes flicked down to the other's lips, their noses bumping as he did so. Oh, goodness.

Stranger: John's hands felt delightfully warm on his face. Not hot, not like summer. But just warm enough that they were not of the frigid winter. "Well you just /saved/ my life, sir. I and my court are forever in your debt," he countered in a murmur. He saw the direction of the other's gaze, and carefully leaned in again, brushing their lips together and encouraging the other to push for more.

You: John chuckled, flushing terribly. "I was only doing my job, m'lord. You risked yourself for me." John typically sought out female fairies. Back when he was welcome in court, his ideal match wasn't anything like Prince Sherlock. And, yet, no kiss had ever interested him as much, had ever captured him so completely. He kissed back hard, almost afraid he would stick to the cold of Sherlock's lips. He flicked out his tongue - he tasted like mint.

Stranger: Sherlock let his eyes slide closed, lips parting softly for John. He felt like he could melt in his arms, like the kiss was going to turn him into no more than a puddle- and it had barely moved beyond a simple kiss. He had always preferred his own gender when it came to relations both romantic and casual, and he was merely grateful that such things were more widely accepted among their kind. Because he couldn't imagine any kiss with any female fairy being half as good as the one he shared with the captain right now.

You: Prince Sherlock was dazzling. Incredible to all senses. Beautiful to look at, gorgeous to hear, delicious to taste. How anyone could possibly be made of such perfection and still be real was beyond John. He finally buried his hands in those dark curls, before a bird's scream shook him out of it. He pulled back and cleared his throat, nodding once. "Well. I suppose it's back to court with you, now that I can escort you back."

Stranger: Sherlock was somewhat breathless when John pulled away, blinking in surprise as he tried to refocus himself. "Well, you know this forest better than anyone, don't you?" he inquired casually, meeting his gaze with a smirk. "Surely you know somewhere we could spend a bit more time together before we go back? There's no need to rush things. They're probably not even through half the kingdoms yet. We have time before they come looking here."

Stranger: ((alright dear i really have to get to bed now; if you want to continue, feel free to grab me over email))