Oneword: Transform

Sherlock was surprised when next he glimpsed his spirit guide. As always, the owl eluded his sight until it wanted to be seen. However, when it emerged from the forest of his subconscious, (he'd been stuck on a new case and John had only just barely been able to pull him out of the spiral of frustration he'd gotten stuck into- the Guide suggested meditation ever so helpfully) the Sentinel noticed that it wasn't the same as the last time he'd seen it, during his hunt for the Phantom. The screech owl had been camouflaged then, a clue as to the nature of his quarry. Its feathers were different now, and Sherlock wondered if the bonding process would usually transform the spirit guides of those involved.

Now, the owl was not quite so bark-mottled. Its ear tufts were slightly elongated, and hairy feathers concealed its beak. It was a more uniform grey, save for the thick black parentheses framing its face. Sherlock knew better this time than to ask it direct questions, knowing that his guide was elusive and nondirect. Instead, he presented it the case at hand. They had been dealing with a drug ring; a synthesized version of guenidine with effects far more potent and dangerous to the young, desperate Sentinels who went to great lengths to purchase them.

Sherlock pictured the contact into the ring they had, a wiry man with a scowl and a need for dominance. He wasn't giving in to any of Sherlock's requests for information, not even the ones accompanied by monetary compensation. He presented his memories of this dealer to the owl, who responded by hunching over, its wings arched and cheek-feathers flared around wide eyes. It was a bluff, and the small grey owl appeared twice its own size. Sherlock wondered if brute force might be a better option with the dealer, who might respond to a perceived threat better than the promise of reward.

Next, Sherlock pictured the boss of the ring. He knew very little about the man, only that anyone involved regarded him with a great deal of fear and trepidation, and knew nearly as little as Sherlock did. This was what had been most frustrating of all, that such a powerful figure could remain so hidden in shadows. Sherlock HAD to find a way in to him. The owl picked up on this powerful force emanating from Sherlock's imagination, and drew itself straight up into a thin pose, its darker grey wing hiding its light underbelly. The dark cheek parentheses were pulled back to the sides, and its eyes squinted at him menacingly. Sherlock knew he could not bluff his way into the good graces of this overlord, whose web of influence undoubtedly controlled far more than this shadowy network of dealers. In order to infiltrate the operation, he knew he would have to go undercover, fight power with power-hunger, evil with evil. John was not going to like it.

Sherlock silently thanked the owl for its council, and tugged back along his bond to John, who pulled him out of his zone. "What did you see?"

Sherlock grinned, "We've got our work cut out for us."