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Red Riding Hood

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A long time ago in the budding town of London wolves were rife in the life of people. They would destroy crops and kill the chickens and cows before dragging them away only to leave a trail of blood in its wake and a decrepit carcass some way down the road from the trail. As you could tell the people of the agricultural profession – which then was 80% of people’s income – were pissed off.

When Lord Mycroft Holmes set up in town as the mayor and lord of London, his younger brother, Sherlock, became very bored. Seeing the problem and the interesting fact that people had tried and failed to find the wolves he set out to surpass them all, of course. It took him a week to figure out where the wolves were going and it was easy. He caught two and made small unnoticeable incisions in both their thighs and followed the proverbial bread crumbs of blood.

The answer was: the town.

Most of the wolves were various townspeople. After conversing with the pastor he learnt the terms Vampires and Lycans. Now Vampires were a question mark but Lycans – or Werewolves, as they are commonly referred to – were evidently real. Whether they were to do with the Devil were another thing of history to which Sherlock had no interest in. He wanted to know their biology, their chemistry, their science.

How they came into being was of no interest and most likely undeterminable since each Lycan after much covert questioning had no memory of their nightly indiscretions let alone of their creation. So when he caught a transformed one he experimented on them trying to make one form or the other permanent.

At first he told no-one of his activities and his brother didn’t care as long as he wasn’t causing a commotion. Sitting in the cellar of their manor atop London Hill was a reprieve to Mycroft from Sherlock’s usual activity of terrorising the villagers. However his frequent chemical experiments did resolve in a plethora of trips to the local physician, a Doctor John Watson. An ex-medic in the army, was harmed in the war and thus rendered inert in the fight against France.

Watson was a Lycan and one of Sherlock’s favourites. He never stole, never ate what wasn’t his, just disappeared into the woods on the nights he transformed as if escaping from life for a while. Sherlock had tried to follow but even in his wolf form he was too smart to fall for the blood trail like the others. He was interesting.

Now Human John was very friendly to Sherlock, one of the few people in the village that called his deductions a marvel, brilliant, or amazing – instead of the devil’s work, as some of the lower IQ’s of the village tended to do – however he was inherently weary of Sherlock. That may have been because his subconscious wolf half remembered how many times Sherlock had tried to catch him and the one time he actually had.

He tells John about the wolves, about how they’re easy to drug, and how he’s trying to make a draft that’ll last long enough on wolves so that they’ll be transported a fair enough distance so they won’t harm anymore of their crops but without the inherent animal violence. John just beams at him and calls the idea a novel one. He does not tell him that they are the townspeople and he most certainly does not mention that John is one himself. He also doesn’t tell John how his chest clenches at the smile and praise John gives him.

Then two unexpected things happen: the first; John asks him if he needs help finding different herbs as he goes out on Sunday afternoons to look for them and would be more than happy to help Sherlock identify the herbs which would help his quest. The second; Sherlock agrees.

Never in all his life has Sherlock sort out the company of another, and neither has he agreed when someone has sort out his. Not until now. He couldn’t find himself regretting it either.

So that Sunday afternoon Sherlock had waited in John’s living room slightly nervous as the man changed out of his Sunday best and into something more comfortable and less fancy. Sherlock didn’t attend Church which people would usually be against but the last he came he spent a good half hour deducing everyone and now a variant amount of people hate him throughout the town. He still could not wipe the face of how John sat in the back giggling as he rambled on about the latest affair between the butcher’s wife and baker’s husband.

They walked along on the fine summer day which the British are hardly accustomed to nowadays but were common back then and had two woven sacks tucked under their arms. John’s with a little bread and cheese for a snack. They talked amiably about less than usual topics.
   “So how does one determine the time of death?” Sherlock asked as they walked along the path near a crop field towards the forest, John frequented more than he consciously knew.
   “Well it helps if the patient died on your table but if it were an accident or even a murder, it can be determined by if the corpse is ridden with rigor mortis, which is a stiffening of the body after death. This lasts approximately 24 hours after death reaching its peak at 12 hours so doctors can get a variable estimate for the time of death. However, various things can affect that, such as; the corpse’s diet, their weight, and even temperature in some cases. Like the cold of winter.” He explained and Sherlock listened with rapt attention.
   “Then what if it was post-rigor mortis, how would one determine the time of death?” He asked and John stopped a moment and took out a penknife to carve a cross on the side of a tree.
   “Usually check for decomposition rates, the skin’s colour, and in some case what kind of insect is feasting on the flesh depending on how long the body has been left there.” John said and continued walking the penknife being put away into his pocket again.
   “Fascinating.” Sherlock remarked and John looked at him with a smile.
   “You would have made a fine doctor, you know.” John looked at him side on and Sherlock down at his considerably shorter friend,
   “I have not the patience nor would have the patients. I’m not the most popular person.” Sherlock grinned at the man as he laughed and nodded. They came to a clearing which held an overgrowth of wildlife and in the middle the ruins of what must have been a home at one point, a longer time before this long time ago.
   “I imagine a healer lived there once which encouraged the growth of all the medicinal plants. Let’s see if we can find you some herbs for your sleeping drafts.” John said encouragingly and took out his penknife marking the tree next to him with an ‘x’ on the side that faced the clearing.

They pulled out their bags and John put the bread and cheese at the bottom of the marked tree but wrapped in two handkerchiefs to keep them safe from wildlife and dirt. Sherlock followed John as he set about cutting the herbs and plants he need for his patients remedies and listened carefully categorising all of them as John told him their names and what they did. After a while John was going about the same plants so he broke off and found his own plants.

He gathered a fine sample of variants that would help improve the sleeping drafts he had already and then some more plants that he figured he could try varying mixing with the Lycan’s blood to see if he could make the state permanent.
   “Sherlock, come here.” John said and he followed without even thinking about it as John held a plant on with a pair of gloves on. Its flower was a light purple with a yellow cone sticking out of the top, the berries that adorned them were a very dark purple – almost black – colour.
   “This is Atropa Belladonna, also known as, Deadly Nightshade. Its poisonous, would kill you in hours if you ate enough. I have known men to get lost and eat them just to end the suffering.” He said,
   “In smaller doses though it can be used as a pain reliever but over use can cause problems.” He explained, Sherlock reached out but John slapped him in the chest with a pair of gloves,
   “Careful, I have yet to create a remedy for this one. I wish for you to wear those every time you come here, alone or otherwise. Good?” He asked as if it were really a question. Sherlock put on the gloves and examined the plants,
   “Show me other poisonous plants.” He said and John stood up stretching his legs a bit.

John looked around for a bit before nodding Sherlock over,
   “Aconitum.” He said simply showing him another purple plant that opened out a bit like a mouth, it oddly resembled a large bulk of lavender. Which wouldn’t be a good idea for a lower intelligence to find.
   “A more powerful one, can kill instantly if even a quarter cup is ingested. Also known as Wolfs Bane because some brutes across this country decided that slow and painful was a great way to die for the animals just trying to survive.” John said a very unsubtle hint of bitterness in his voice.
   “A small dose causes; nausea, vomiting, diarrhoea, and eventual death. It can last two to six hours if you really wish it.” Sherlock looked at John and saw his clenched fist as the other retracted away from the plant.
   “Most useful if I have anyone I wish to take care of.” Sherlock said curtly and John gave him a startled look.
   “You aren’t going to use it for the wolves?” John asked completely bypassing the admission of murderous intent.
   “I told you my plans and I am a stubborn man. What would we do with poisonous wolf corpses anyway? Can’t eat, can’t skin, or anything really due to the toxins.” Sherlock told him and tried not to smile back when John gave him a large smile.
   “I am on their side if I must choose one. Wolves are simply fascinating creatures, and to observe one up close is a treasure to behold. Much more interesting than mere humans.” He told John and the other blushed and then looked a little confused at his own state of embarrassment. Sherlock knew why and couldn’t help but find it endearing.     
   “Lunch?” He suggested seeing John’s imminent discomfort.
   “Starving.” John replied smiling at him again.

After that day every Sunday they went together and gathered herbs for Sherlock’s various experiments and John’s practice. It quickly became both of their favourite day of the week. Sherlock bought and read a book about herbalism that he made sure to file away directly into his mind palace. Finally by the next spring he completed a draft that caused people to turn permanently human, even if they were in human form when the ‘medicine’ was taken. The few wolves that were actually wolves were a different story.

He remedied a new sleeping draft that could knock a wolf out; it was a twenty hundredth’s part Belladonna, forty hundredth’s part Black Henbane, and forty hundredth’s Pipli. It was a good remedy because the larger doses of Henbane and Pipli overtook the negative effects of the stronger Belladonna so whilst all were sedatives the other negative effects were cancelled out.

Once the wolves were out cold he pulled on a red hood so that no-one would recognise him further away from the town and took the manors cart loading it with the wolves and placing a sheet over them. He then travelled thirty miles due northwest to the small town of Chelmsford which had the most uncouth mayor Sherlock had ever had the misfortune of meeting called Lord Philip Anderson. He placed the unconscious wolves on the far side of the town towards the sea and then travelled back to London where he was promptly stopped by his brother at the gates of the manor.
   “Where have you been?” Mycroft asked him as he took off his black gloves John had given him months ago now.
   “Chelmsford, with a gift to his lord mayor.” Both Holmes agreed to despise stupidity and Anderson just so happened to fall under this category.
   “You have taken a large amount of dead wolves and cast them onto his town?” Mycroft asked dubious and Sherlock pulled out a mechanism we would label a gun and little red darts to coincide with it.
   “No, alive. Just unconscious they’ll wake up and cause havoc as they please.” He said and for once his brother smiled at him,
   “How quaint. Very well brother, carry on at your discretion, just do not get carried away with this hobby.” He warned and Sherlock rose his head,
   “I have one more wolf who is proving more difficult to locate so I have to move onto better tactics.” He said brandishing the weapon once more,
   “Three shots should have him down and at my disposal. Perhaps I shall keep this one and train him.” Mycroft gave him a blank look which Sherlock knew very well to be his deducing stare. What he was probably seeing, as Sherlock well knew, was the hunger in his eyes for something that wasn’t entirely looked down upon with a smile.
   “Do not get carried away.” He said again and Sherlock nodded before heading down to his cellar to work on something new.

He didn’t want to make John a boring Human, but he wanted him to know of his wolf self. He would have to make a draft possible of John remembering what he’s done in his wolf form even as a human and for that he would need the test subject himself. Luckily for him they ate together every Sunday so it shouldn’t be too hard to slip something into his drink to test and then openly show himself on a transformation night.

Around midnight he heard scratching. At first he ignored it but eventually it became a loud bang against the door to the outside of his cellar. Hesitantly and on alert he climbed the stone staircase to the cellar and opened it up to the outside world only to be greeted by a pouncing golden coloured wolf. They tumbled backwards down the stairs and Sherlock was pinned to the floor. For the first time in his life, he feared for it. He’d never been so out of control before and was usually the one doing the caging.
   “John…” He said with a wavering voice as he watched the hungry eyes above him. He wanted to fight, he wanted to fly away but even if he didn’t have the large lump of overgrown dog on top of him he’d still be rooted to the spot.

The wolf was panting above him as if he’d been running and Sherlock laid their rigid on the floor as he was watched like a meal platter set out rather neatly to be devoured. That’s when John attacked, he clenched his eyes shut in anticipation of the horrible pain that would come from having his throat being ripped out.

It never came.

What happened instead was there was a tongue dragged over his neck slowly and a soft almost relieved huff resonating from above. Sherlock opened his eyes slowly and he looked at the mass on top of him. Only illuminated by the finite light of the candles around him. He realised that the hunger wasn’t out of starvation it was out of…
   “oh.” He said simply as sharpened teeth descended on his button up. He didn’t open it properly he just bit off the buttons and slowly opened up revealing his chest. His entire body lit up in fire as the long tongue descended on him again and licked a sultry down his torso.
   “You cannot…n-no…John” He thrashed about finally and pulled up so he was sat and the wolf’s paws either side of him. John looked highly displeased in front of Sherlock.
   “We cannot do this. For one we are not even the same species right now.” John growled lowly and leaned forward his eyes lowering and showing such hunger. Sherlock swallowed and was breathing heavily.
   “Your human self has not given permission for this…” He closed his eyes because he had a good view of John’s impressive length stood to attention. This only intensified the fact that it was stiff against his thigh. ‘Just a little higher…’ He thought and scolded himself.
   “Trust me, I would certainly enjoy you doing an array of filthy and vile things to me right now, oh I would.” He looked at John to find softened eyes,
   “Yet only if both participants are willing.” He stroked along the underjaw of the wolf and his tongue came out and wrapped around his fingers. Slowly Sherlock laid back down on the floor stroked John’s head as he let John’s tongue lap at him, taste him. When it became too much he squeezed his hold on John’s head and the other stopped and went back to his neck.
   “Mmm I shall smell of nothing but you tomorrow.” Sherlock stretched a little as John’s tongue played along his neck. The wolf growled in agreement at first then gave a sound of contentment and shuffled further on top of him.
   “I will make you remember this.” Sherlock whispered and the wolf looked at him before rolling his hips down and connecting their cocks for just a brief second. His was clothed but he groaned out nonetheless.
   “Not…fair...” Sherlock said breathless pushing at John’s shoulders.
   “Off…Mycroft comes down if I am in here long enough and he already has his suspicions. I would hate to prove him right.” Sherlock said and the wolf huffed out what seemed to be a laugh before licking along his neck slowly once more and then pushing his hips down once more before moving backwards and admiring how debauched Sherlock look as he glistened with saliva and had a perfect tent in his trousers from arousal.

When Sherlock gained his vision back he realised three things in one second. 1) John was gone. 2) He was hard. 3) The room was absolutely freezing. He gathered himself up, shut the doors and bolted them before taking the stairs to his room four at a time. He shuffled out of his trousers and hung them over the back of a chair before he wiped himself down with the shirt. He used the same shirt to pull out Wolf John filled fantasies of doing exactly what he looked like he was going to do. He came with a silent cry and shoved the ruined button-up under the bed to be disposed of tomorrow before pulling the covers over his naked body and falling asleep to even more filthy and lurid dreams of him and his prey turned predator.

He had never felt more out of control in his life. He had never loved any sensation more.

The next time he saw John he had only seen such hunger on the night he last saw him. He realised from then on he was utterly fucked. In more ways than one.

As they walked through town Sherlock instantly felt something was different about it. Something was wrong. Instantly on guard, John automatically felt his friend go rigid.
   “What’s wrong?” He asked going into fight mode and Sherlock looked around the time.
   “Something is different and it means that something bad is going to happen to me specifically.” Sherlock said in a low voice and John looked around worried.
   “How do you know?” John asked in the same down beat voice.
   “The townspeople are smiling at me.” He said very quietly and slowly. John stopped looked around and Sherlock nearly berated for how obvious he was being before a smile broke out onto John’s face.
   “You truly have no knowledge of society’s conventions, do you?” Sherlock felt something akin to bewilderment and looked at him in a way that prompted explanation.
   “You took care of the wolves. Right before crop season, as well. People are calling you Red Riding Hood.” Sherlock looked at John insulted by the insinuation.
   “Preposterous, I do not take baked goods to my grandmother and fall for cunning wolves in old dresses.” John giggled at that and Sherlock would’ve kept a stony exterior had it been anyone but John. Unfortunately for Sherlock whenever John smiled it was contagious and could only be returned in full.
   “I really think it’s the hood you wore when you smuggled all those wolves to Chelmsford.” John said as if an afterthought and Sherlock looked at him.
   “You saw that?” John nodded as if it were obvious,
   “Everyone did. Did you really think it was inconspicuous to take a care of furry objects in bright red?” John asked mirth ridden in his voice and Sherlock scowled without really trying to be sincere about it.
   “There’s one left.” Sherlock replied looking at John intently.
   “He’s cunning and has evaded me eight out of ten times. One of the two he came to me.” He watched John as the shorter man licked his lips and that flash of pink muscle had him remember another longer tongue on him a few nights ago.

The hunger in John’s eyes were back. Sherlock could see it, nestling into his blue orbs that reflected so much inner emotion and right now he was looking at Sherlock as if he could feast. Sherlock decided it was time they went to the cottage. Using the same path every Sunday both had become accustomed to John’s first markings and Sherlock later found out that he’d done it so to not get lost as he had done many times before.

They got to the clearing and went about their business. Sherlock now had several bags for several plants so that they wouldn’t contaminate each other with various toxins released by each plants and by mid-afternoon both were parched and starved. They enjoyed a flask of wine between them as they ate jam sandwiches. When a piece of red sticky paste got onto John’s chin Sherlock didn’t even think about it.

Not one cognitive – negative or positive – thought went through his head as he leant down and licked the jam off of John’s chin.

Both retracted and sat ram rod straight in front of each other. John cleared his throat obviously uncomfortable and Sherlock looked at the flask in his lap.
   “I am drunk…” He offered weakly and John huffed out a short breathless laugh. Sherlock swallowed.
   “What was that?” John asked in an uncommonly small voice for the man.
   “A momentary lapse in judgement.” Sherlock responded immediately and finally looked the other in the eyes again.
   “And why do you say that?” Sherlock blinked and John lowered his head still looking him in the eyes and smiled. ‘He is flirting. Dear lord, if you are real and what I am about to do a sin: then I welcome the devil with open arms.’ Without much further ado he leaned forward very quickly and took John’s cheeks with his hands pulling him closer.

There was a second when Sherlock pulled back, just to check it was okay, but John had already relaxed his jaw and his eyes were half closed in a daze. When he had confirmed consent he surged forward again and they kissed open mouthed.

Sherlock moaned.

John moaned.

It was monumental, glorious, incredible, liquid gold, even more perfect than a Gassan 121 diamond.

   “John?” Sherlock said against the other’s lips and received a groan of acknowledgement in response.
   “I want to do sinful things to you. Things that would make a good man run away.” He said between kisses as he licked the seam of John’s lips before plunging his tongue into the other’s mouth again. John did pull away this time and both panted heavily. He grabbed a clump of Sherlock’s curls by the back of his head before climbing into is lap.
   “A good thing neither of us are good men.” He said attaching himself to Sherlock’s neck and kissing him. Instinctively Sherlock arched his neck to give John better access.
   “Oh I am such a bad man.” He moaned as John started nipping at his neck.
   “Come back to my manor.” Sherlock swallowed and John pulled back giving him another breath taking kiss before nodding and standing up and helping him onto his feet.

They both shared the load of flowers they had and put John’s back in his laboratory (which was more of a small study) and John jumped Sherlock pushing him against the wall of his house with a thud. They kissed feverishly before collecting themselves long enough and hauling the six bags of Sherlock’s towards the manor. They went into the cellar something John had only started doing when he found Sherlock decided on bringing six bags and filling them all as much as he could. Sherlock dumped the bags in their usual spot and John followed. Sherlock walked across the room and locked the latch leading up into the house before closing and locking the doors leading the courtyard too. Hands came around from behind him and pulled him backwards down the stairs into the middle of the room.
   “How do you want me?” John asked and Sherlock damn near dropped to his knees with how sultry it sounded. Oh, he was so looking forward to the wolf taking control of him. He let his head loll back against John’s shoulder and bit his lip. Trying to control his breathing rate and failing horribly he resigned to snapping around in the embrace and crowd John into the bench. He halted for a moment as he was caught off guard by how animalistic John looked.
   “On me.” He wasn’t expecting John to knock him in the back of the leg and let them both fall to the floor. It didn’t hurt because at the same time John caught him and straddled him.
   “Much better.” Sherlock nodded as he said it licking his lips. John leaned down and connected their lips, letting his tongue pry open Sherlock’s mouth and invade it. Capturing it and claiming it as his own territory he pressed his body against Sherlock’s and held him in place by a hand in his curls. Sherlock moaned loudly and arched his body into John’s seeking more. Wanting more. Needing more.
   “John…you can still do better.” He said breaking away and looking up at the eyes positively ready to devour him.
   “Oh, can I?” He said leaning down and licking down Sherlock’s neck giving him a very helpful memory jog of when a certain wolf licked him. John seemed full of surprises that day as he shoved his hand down Sherlock’s trousers and gripped his length firmly. Sherlock keened and bucked up into the hand.
   “Certainly…an improvement…” Sherlock breathless and started panting as he still tried to keep himself together. John smirked at him,
   “I wonder what it would take to turn your brain into incoherence?” John mused unbuttoning the other’s shirt and trousers. He started undressing Sherlock and left his entire front bare before kissing down him leaving Sherlock’s skin on fire.
   “I can still think.” It was true he could but it was quite a struggle.
   “I shall have to up my game then.” John grinned and looked at the full length of Sherlock’s body and his eyes stopped directly on the throbbing length underneath him. He crawled down Sherlock’s body and kissed the tip of Sherlock’s cock. The brain is such a delicate thing and at that point for Sherlock, it just wouldn’t work as John’s tongue took one long lick up it. He recognised a voice was asking a question and it fell on death ears.
   “Cannot…what…?” He said lifting his head and looking down at John on him lapping at his cock in the most lascivious of ways. A little chuckle resonated and he let his head drop back down again. He felt a wet heat engulf him almost entirely and that was the last thing he remembered for the next ten minutes.

When eventually he regained sight and sound he sat up and looked at the wall.
   “Oh my god…” He whispered as the world spun and he had to lie back down.
   “You alive?” He heard beside him and moaned as a hand tapped along his stomach.
   “What did you do to me?” He heard a chuckle and was pecked on the lips.
   “Was I that good?” John asked hovering over him and Sherlock only nodded before kissing him again. Slowly using John as leverage he sat up and spread his legs shuffling around so they were around John.
   “I want you mouth around me like that as much as humanly possible. Please.” He groaned and pushed himself up onto John’s lap.
   “I am under the sin of greed too, you know. I want more.” Sherlock said and John raised an eyebrow,
   “What can I possibly do for you?” John asked licking his lips and Sherlock didn’t respond so much as pushed his hips down and tossing his head back.
   “I have…oil…” He said pointing to the table where a vile of orange liquid sat. John let him go and started to undress not breaking his eye contact with Sherlock. Sherlock’s mouth dropped and watered as he nodded whilst his eyes widened. He grinned as John moved across the room completely nude and picked up the bottle shaking it before pulling out the little cork and pouring some onto his hand before leaning against the bench and running his oiled hand down his stomach and then wrapping it around his own cock. He groaned and let his head fall back as Sherlock sat there watching him.
   “I would prefer-!” He said abruptly and got on his hands and knees facing John.
   “Claim me.” Sherlock could see it; the point John gave into his wolf’s instincts. He jumped across the room onto his knees before he’d even reached Sherlock.
   “Mine!” John growled and propped himself over Sherlock from behind. With a wet and cold hand John slid it down the cleft of his arse and rubbed Sherlock’s automatically tense hole.
   “Relax…I will make it feel good.” Sherlock spread his legs and tried to make himself as open as possible for his hand. John pushed a finger in and rolled it around by just the tip. Sherlock pushed himself up impaling himself further onto John’s finger.
   “More…” He moaned out and spread his legs further to let John gain more access. Sherlock was worked open to John’s finger and eventually he hit the knuckle. John proceeded to push in and out of Sherlock torturing him slowly. The latter was breaking from how slow John was preparing him and he hadn’t even added a second finger when Sherlock grabbed his hand.
   “We have established I belong to you now please do me a kindness and put something larger in.” He hiked up his arse higher in the air presenting himself very prominently to John.
   “Oh hush. I refuse to hurt you.” John growled which made it sound like he wanted to fuck Sherlock so rough he couldn’t walk for a week and even then he would permanently feel the ghost of John’s cock.
   “I can handle it.” John shuffled behind him and placed three fingers at his entrance before giving it a moment to let Sherlock back away. When he was met with no resilience he pushed them all inside and the resonating hiss of sucked in air halted John.
   “Good?” He asked the wince evident in his voice and Sherlock let out a startled moan and pushed back further.
   “Very.” He clawed at the stone floor under him rolling his hips. He found out very quickly that he very much liked the hint of pain that came with the jump from one to three. It was magnificent. John pushed in and out of him again and again until Sherlock was a begging mess before him. Finally he thrust his fingers in just deep enough it brushed against something inside of Sherlock that made him give out guttural cry as he actively fucked himself back onto John’s fingers.
   “There…So much. There!” He was almost screaming now and when John retracted his fingers Sherlock snapped his head back.
   “No…You do not get to stop now. Enough with the torment!” He said in the type of demanding tone only a lord’s son could muster. John made a low growl in his throat and it commanded silence which was given instantly.
   “Mine. All mine.” His voice was darker than before.
   “Yes, yes. All yours. Take me. Claim me.” Sherlock said thrusting his hips up. John lavished his own length with more oil before placing it at Sherlock’s hole.
   “Now?” John asked in a teasing voice.
   “I swear to god if you d-Ah!” He didn’t get to finish as John did it for him. He didn’t expect to feel so full. Even with just the head in him he felt open and filled at the same time.
   “Alright?” He asked and received a vigorous nod.
   “More than…please more…please…” Sherlock begged and pushed back again. John edged into him taking his time as Sherlock became more incoherent and more needy with his begs. It was intoxicating and for something that could warrant the death penalty was one of the most pleasurable things he’d ever had the glory to partake in.

When John was at the hilt, buried inside of Sherlock it was all either of them could think of. Nothing else was visible and the touch was intensified by thousands as John started to set a steady rhythm. It wasn’t long before Sherlock was becoming sensitive again, he had become hard as a rock and was leaking onto the floor whilst John became rougher hitting that perfect spot inside of him. Hands gripped at Sherlock’s hip and hair holding him in place as he was thoroughly fucked into the floor and his sweet spot positively abused. His chants were intermittent variations of ‘yes’, ‘more’, and ‘John’; some cries, others groans, but mostly moans each time he felt the friction of being so utterly filled all at once. John’s hands were becoming tighter against him as he sped out in and out of Sherlock’s body and the one hand grasping Sherlock’s hair slid around his body and wrapped around Sherlock’s cock. Nothing else mattered after that all else faded into a sensation of pure ecstasy and his whole world merged and blurred into perfect serenity of white. It was even better than before because the stimulation didn’t stop he could feel it again and again at such speed and he felt himself filled. A shuddered groan, the stiffness of everything else as one muscle unloaded itself right into himself and he welcomed it moaning at the sensation of being filled even more.

Sweat, heavy breathing, and sex filled the humid air as they both fell on their sides to the floor. Silence filled the room apart from thudding hearts and uncontrollable breaths. Sherlock shuffled so he was on his side facing John who had a lazy grin on his face.
   “I should tell you something.” Sherlock admitted changing his plans drastically. Right then, they were all alone and John was half high on endorphins he couldn’t take it too badly, surely.
   “What is it?” John mumbled reaching his hand across and clutching Sherlock’s who clasped it right back.
   “You know that wolf which I cannot catch?” Sherlock asked speaking a little slower than usual to be in time with John’s thinking rate. He made a mumble which to Sherlock was good enough as a ‘yes’.
   “He is you.” He said and suddenly eyes were open and looking right at him.
   “What? Do I share similar traits…or…?” He asked his mind slowly catching up and Sherlock rolled onto his back.
   “No. In a literal sense you morph into a wolf and then proceed to forget when you return to your human state. Like everyone else.” He explained succinct and to the point like always and John just rolled onto his back.
   “Everyone else?” John asked the puzzlement clear in his post-sex hazed voice. It was clear the man was struggling between confused and just-had-great-sex.
   “An estimated 30% of the town’s population were wolves.” Sherlock said stretching his limbs and getting a flush scent of their combined sex and sighing contentedly.
   “Were?” John said and then yawned both were tired from their recently finished activity.
   “I created a formula that would permanent keep their alter egos dormant. As far as they are concerned they are just easy to anger and have abnormal strength, sight and hearing abilities.” Sherlock in turn yawned and started to feel the bite of the cold floor beneath him.
   “Same with me then?” John asked turning to him and he propped himself up on his side looking down at Sherlock who shook his head.
   “No. You are far more interesting than the others. You never steal, kill or do any boring things like the others you just wonder into the woods. The times I have tried to find you have only left me going in circles. You are quite evasive.” Sherlock looked at him and then at their still linked hands. ‘Good sign; has not pushed away yet.’
   “What happened on the two times you caught me?” John said clearly curious but obviously trying to piece it all together in his head how this could have escaped him for so long.         
   “The first, I made a small incision to follow your track into the woods. However, when you awoke you sniffed, made an annoyed sound, and proceeded home where you did not return out from for the rest of the night so I figured you fell asleep.” Sherlock looked at John and saw a small smile playing on his lips for pride in his own intellect.
   “The second time you came to me. I was working here and I heard a bang at my door, when I opened it you pushed me down the stairs. Pinned me, and proceeded to lick me.” John made a choked sound and looked at him.
   “Lick you?” He asked again as if he’d heard it wrong and Sherlock rolled his eyes hating to repeat himself before nodding.
   “You did not speak but your actions were certainly indicating something very unsavoury.” Sherlock lost his analytical voice at that he had dropped it into a lower tone and edged closer to John.
   “You wanted me.” Sherlock closed his eyes at the memory of the wolf holding him down and felt and hand pull his thigh closer.
   “Did we…? Did I…?” John probed gesturing between the two of them and Sherlock shook his head a little relief falling across John’s face.
   “I was not prepared to do anything without both halves of your permission. I think it is safe to say I now have it. You tease me whether you are a wolf or a human and it is entirely frustrating and completely overpowering. I want more.” He pulled John into a full body embrace and crushed them flush against each other.   
   “You are a bad man.” John admitted with a playful hint to his tone and kissed Sherlock’s neck.
   “What are you going to do with me?” John asked the man who he was currently leaving a mark which would definitely have to be covered up; unfortunately.
   “Oh a lot. In a scientific sense I intend to remedy a formula that will let you possess your wolf form yet still hold all your memories either way. Both halves are similar except…” he trailed and a hand rolled up his waist.
   “Except…?” John whispered right into his ear.
   “As a wolf, you are…more controlling.” Sherlock admitted his cheeks going pink and John smiling so wide it could be felt against Sherlock’s ear.
   “You like that?” John asked not really needing the answer as he pushed himself up and into Sherlock’s lap.
   “All of you under my control? Under my power?” John said looking down at Sherlock and pulling his head up by his curls and clenching his fist into them. Not painfully but it very well had an effect on Sherlock who whimpered in the back of his throat in response.
   “Hmm what would it be like reversed? Me under your boot, so to speak.” He said dipping down and leaving a miniscule gap between them.
   “Following your every order. To. The. Letter.” He emphasised each word by getting closer to Sherlock centimetre by centimetre each word until eventually there was no room but to kiss. Sherlock’s reaction was simultaneous to their lips connecting, he wrapped his legs under John and his arms around John’s neck pulling him in deeper.

The door unlocked, opened and both parted looking up to see Mycroft with a carefully blank face. John was horrified to say the least and Sherlock levelled his brother with a glare.
   “Do you ever knock?” Sherlock said clearly annoyed whilst John was having a mild heart attack in his arms.
   “Oh this is just cruel.” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth and John slowly looked at both of them as he was trying to get his mind around being caught with another man – stark naked – and the first thing his brother says makes it out to be as if Sherlock were playing a game.
   “Get out Mycroft, you are not even meant to be here. What happened to your precious work?” Sherlock practically spat at his brother and John had never seen such hostility between siblings that weren’t fighting for food.
   “Still in effect. I thought you would like to know that Chelmsford have just sent a request for you to help them with their wolf problem since you were so good at taking care of ours.” John rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder and breathed deep breaths trying to control them.
   “Tell them to piss off. I have something far more interesting to work on here.” He ended up mumbling into John’s shoulder. He relented mentioning that John was a wolf and that’s what he would be working on whereas John would be working on him in both forms and in a variety of positions.
   “Let the poor man go it is not like you actually reciprocate any of his feelings.” The man managed to make the word feel like it was blasphemy on his tongue. John said nothing but clenched his eyes shut against Sherlock’s shoulder and hoped that wasn’t true. Sherlock was silent for a long moment. One of the longest of John’s life.
   “GET! OUT!” Came the response as Sherlock reached behind him grabbed the nearest solid object that just happened to be the herbalist’s book and threw it with impressive force at Mycroft’s head. If he hadn’t had closed the door the book would’ve probably been enough for a mild concussion. There was a click as the door was relocked and Sherlock was on John.

He pushed and sprawled John out onto the floor hiking the man’s legs up so they were around his waist.
   “Not a word was true. I would not do this if I did not feel attraction as well as emotion towards you.” Sherlock said between kissing John who laid there and listened not saying a word.
   “I have never felt so safe and cared for than when you are thrusting into me at what should be an alarming rate – but trust me its not. In fact go faster next time – I know you will never hurt me and I have no intention of doing the same. Mycroft is talking out of his arse, please, trust me, and believe me.” He said peppering kiss along John’s face who caught him inbetween his fingers.
   “What is he going to do to us?” John asked and Sherlock couldn’t help the feeling on endearment as John used ‘us’.
    “Nothing, I will make sure of it.” John nodded succinctly, trusting Sherlock and kissed him again.

After they had managed to sort themselves out and they had washed themselves down with a cloth they both sat opposite each other.
   “We have three things to discuss.” John said and Sherlock furrowed his brows,
   “I understand the wolf and my brother, but the third…” He trailed off waiting for John to answer.
   “Our relationship.” John said and something cold washed over Sherlock as he thought ‘what if Mycroft wasn’t talking to me earlier.’
   “What do you mean?” He asked leaning forward on his knees placing his hands in a triangle in front of his mouth. John seemed conflicted for a moment as if he was nervous and Sherlock took a resilient amount of energy making sure he didn’t move his body because if he did it’d probably start crying.
   “Do you want to continue this…romantically or physically? I do not want to be played like a puppet, Sherlock.” John sat forward and Sherlock nearly did cry. He sat back and tried not to look as relieved as he felt.
   “Definitely want to continue this romantically. I want your heart to belong to me. Also I want to be integrated with your body Doctor Watson. Both halves.” Sherlock said carefully and John sat back with a sigh of relief and he smiled at Sherlock.
   “Good. Very good.” He grinned at Sherlock.
   “I guess that brings us to the wolf agenda. What exactly are you planning on doing with me?” John asked folding his arms and looking at Sherlock inquisitively.
   “I want to find a way to combine your mind and the wolf’s. So whilst you are in human form you possess all your wolf memories and vice versa. Now I have observed the wolf’s memory of me so it can obviously access your memories, and certainly your libido too.” He cleared his throat and shuffled at the memory of being pinned to the floor.
   “Thus I am hoping to either convince the wolf to let you remember and if that is unobtainable then to create a concoction which induces the memories in your human form. This will take some experimentation and since you are my only candidate now I would be very grateful.” John nodded and started giggling, he curled into himself and had to hold himself up on his arms. Sherlock sat there highly confused before eventually John said through scattered breaths,
   “I am a shape-shifting wolf.” He grinned and giggled into his hands as they covered his face. Sherlock tried to figure out if he thought it was genuinely funny or if he was actually having a mental breakdown.
   “John…?” He asked tentatively knowing the man could very well attack him right now.
   “Yes?” He asked between gasping breaths.
   “Deep breaths.” Sherlock said reaching forward and resting his hand on the others shoulder. John looked at him in confusion before giggling and pulling him down into a kiss.
   “I find it funny, I am not going insane, you plum.” He grinned against Sherlock’s mouth and the man relaxed into his grip and coiled himself around John sitting on his lap.
   “Good, I would hate to have to restrain you.” John licked the seam of his lips.
   “Oh, I am certain you would hate to have me under your complete power.” Sherlock pushed John’s mouth open with his tongue and they held onto each other for a good ten minutes kissing one another thoroughly.

Eventually John broke away breathless and chuckled,
   “Okay, okay we have to talk about your brother.” John said panting and Sherlock’s face dropped and he groaned.
   “What a way to bring a man down.” He said climbing back off of John and onto his own chair to find John laughing again. This time he joined in. After a while of their childish laughs they calmed down and looked at each other.
   “What are we going to do about Mycroft?” John said turning serious and Sherlock levelled his stare and sighed.
   “I shall talk to him and make sure he does not get the wrong idea.” John looked at him incredulous.
   “You are going to try and convince your brother that us writhing against each other naked on the floor was not what it looked like?” John asked and Sherlock shook his head as if that had been even a plausible idea.
   “Of course not, do not be so ridiculous John. I mean I am going to make sure he knows how much I care for you and that this is not due to lack of options. Less he try and match me with some of his tedious colleague’s unwed sisters or daughters.” Sherlock rolled his eyes.
   “I am more worried about my neck ending up in a noose than you being put on an awkward date.” John said pursing his lips at the thought of both happening.
   “Then again, I really would not like it if you decided I was boring and went for someone more interesting.” Sherlock looked at him as he had just been slapped.
   “How could I possibly find anyone more interesting than a werewolf, honestly John, you have no idea how brilliantly fascinating you are. You were in the army, you are a medic, and you transform into a wolf. You mind and body is…incredible…” He breathed out,
    “and I want to explore every part of it.” He finished and looked John up and down in a way that could’ve rivalled the wolf’s look of hunger. He cleared his throat again and blinked a few times before swallowing and getting back to the topic in point.
   “Mycroft would not dare hurt you. For one I can make his life a living hell should he do and two he would not ever risk his reputation like that. He wants to control the country one day and to have a brother who was a known homosexual would put a strain on his work relationships and his climb up the political ladder. In addition it would be rich coming from him should he choose to discriminate us when he is no better.” John nodded and then his jaw dropped,
   “he is like us?” John asked and Sherlock nodded rolling his eyes.
   “Oh good, well that should keep him away. Now one final thing…” John said and Sherlock looked at him furrowing his brows. ‘He had we only said three.’ He was about to speak when John cut him off and started unbuttoning his shirt again.
   “Take off your clothes.” He ordered and Sherlock had never smiled wider as he threw his shoes into a random direction.

Over the next few days John had worried as he had seen Mycroft plenty of times walking around town from his large window at the front of his practice (he lived upstairs). Then one afternoon on the Thursday, Sherlock came to him with an unexplained ‘sprain’ in his ankle and they had sat down in the back of the practice where John had gotten down on his knees and had examined his ankle and then his crotch. Thoroughly.

Sherlock miraculously recovered after that. As he left Mycroft came in and he put on the most over exaggerated limp that even the town idiot could’ve seen through it. Sherlock nodded and winced as he struggled past Mycroft and out of the door and John had to hide his laughs behind his hand and failed miserably.
   “What can I do for you my lord?” John sat down behind his desk as Mycroft stood by the door and both them tried to ignore Sherlock sitting directly across the road buying various pastries and eating them just outside the bakery.
   “I think we both know why I am here, Doctor Watson there is no need to hedge the fence, so to speak.” He said it with a pleasant tone to which was unaccompanied by cold piercing eyes.
   “Fine.” John resigned holding up his hands.
   “What specifically do you want?” He said folding his arms over his chest and raising his chin.
   “What are your intentions for my brother?” He asked with a clipped voice, no longer pleasant and John scoffed,
   “I think it would be pretty obvious what my intentions for him are.” He looked at Mycroft lifting an eyebrow but when he was given a blank face in return he sighed and stood up.
   “I care for Sherlock. If you had not noticed our friendship was already quite out of the usual constructs of friendships considering our most frequent conversation was ‘will this kill a wolf or put it to sleep?’” John smiled fondly at the memories.
   “To be honest it was pretty extraordinary when he kissed me for the first time. Not enough though, I doubt it would ever be enough. Hopefully for him too because I do not intend to give up on him.” He said honestly and Mycroft rested the hook of umbrella into the crook of his elbow before moving forward and blocking John’s view of Sherlock. He was turned to the window and looking outside and not at John as he spoke again,
   “You should know, good doctor that Sherlock does not find anything interesting forever. The longest he has taken interest in something is the violin and even that he will not play for months at a time. You are the longest living relationship he has had outside of this family so I could count you lucky.” Mycroft turned his head to the side so he was looking over his shoulder at John.
   “However, there is a high possibility my brother will one day get bored of you like he does with most people and I am afraid I would have to ask you leave the town. I cannot have the underlying bitterness that your liaison with each other would create. It would make for distasteful gossip and a bad reputation for you, Sherlock and by extension myself.” He explained and John caught his elbow, turned him around so the man was looking at him as he deadpanned.
   “If Sherlock does that to me I shall leave the fucking country, would that satisfy you?” He said in a complete monotone voice except the anger stretching across his face was there for the world to see. He dropped his grip, went to the door, opened it and gestured with his hand.
   “Good day my lord.” He said with clenched teeth and froze to the spot as Mycroft quickly collected himself and left. John slammed the door shut and flipped the sign to ‘closed’ before shutting the curtains on the window and door and then sitting in the darkness of the room and sighing into his hands.

It wasn’t a minute later the bell tolled and John realised he hadn’t actually locked the door before there was a pile of six foot wolf tamer in his lap who seemed just about ready to rip his throat out as he sucked and bit at John’s neck.
   “Steady the buffs.” John panted pushing at Sherlock’s shoulders.
   “What did he say?” Sherlock damn near growled and John tried not to think about it being from all the time he must’ve spent with the wolves.
   “I told him if we were to ever stop I would leave the country.” Sherlock nibbled at the juncture between John’s jaw and ear and he had to stop himself from whimpering.
   “Why. Would. We. Do. That?” He emphasised each word with a kiss or bite to John’s cheek, jaw or neck and the man almost caved to begging. Almost.
   “You would get b-bored of m-me. Sherlock!” John gasped as hands start fondling places those hands shouldn’t be fondling in broad daylight. Sherlock sat and looked at him like he was affronted.
   “I am too involved to be bored now. If I was going to lose interest it would have been months ago.” He kissed John again on the lips peppering kisses along the seam.
   “If there were any chance I would ‘get bored’ I would not have licked you that day. Whether that was on impulse or not. So…stop. Just stop thinking like that.” Sherlock leaned down and kissed John fully on the lips who was getting a little desperate from just a few choice words, bites, and roaming hands.
   “If anyone should be worried it should be me. I am wondering when you are to realise I am clinically insane?” John laughed against Sherlock’s mouth and broke off from him.
   “Why is that?” John asked smiled to Sherlock eyes which were directed right on his mouth like the most delicious meal.
   “Surely you must have seen how…different I am by now, yes? A man enjoying another man’s company as well as a wolf’s?” He looked up at John with a sceptical look and John stroked his cheek.
   “Different yes, but not insane. Oh I have seen insane many a time back in the war and you, gorgeous man, are not insane.” John cupped his cheek and kissed him again lovingly. Sherlock all but melted against him and moaned as his arms came up and around his neck.
   “Come on you, if you do not leave soon people will make assumptions.” He tapped Sherlock’s arse and the man groaned.
   “People do little else now let them be true. Do not tease me like this!” Sherlock bounced up and down in John’s lap and the man kissed him in just the right way that Sherlock lost himself until their lips parted and he found himself stood up and a jar of cream in his hand.
   “Helps with pain. Can be ingested too so for any activities you might need to insert it into your body or someone else’s. It might be of use is all I can say.” Sherlock looked at the cream in his hand and a smile broke out onto his face before John grinned and opened the door to let him out and ushered him onto the street.
   “See you Sunday.” John said and closed the door it locking it behind him.
   “Or sometime sooner.” Sherlock mumbled and made his way back to the manor.

Sherlock would not admit it to John or anyone else but in the nights between Sunday and Thursday he had spent every moment not only working on his concoction to test on John but also waiting. He was positive now that the wolf knew of John’s acceptance so he would definitely be back. Sherlock was waiting. He was waiting with such enthusiasm he regularly prepared himself unsure the wolf would be able to and worked out what position would be best for them to do the task without it hurting too much. He’s started laying straw on floor as it gives off heat and adds padding to the floor. His knees wouldn’t be too bruised then if they did it back end up. By Thursday he was so keyed up he had to go see John. Faking the injury was easy enough. Getting John into his pants had been easier as the man seemed so genuinely pleased to see him and oh John’s lips were glorious. Utterly divine as they wrapped around him in the sultriest of ways and pulled sounds from his throat he didn’t know he was capable of making. He was so deep in his own memory he almost didn’t hear the banging at his door. Oh god he was so ready. So very ready to be fucked senseless. He legged it up the cellar stairs to the door that lead outside and then everything became a blur of golden fur and stone. ‘Perfect. Absolutely perfect.’ Sherlock’s mind supplied as the wolf cover his entire body and growled in something akin to arousal. Sherlock spread his legs wrapping them around the fur covered back and pressed himself up.
   “Yes. Take me. Claim me.” If the phrase worked on John it switched his wolf counter-part into a crazed owner. Before Sherlock could register what was happening he found his shirt ripped again and saliva down his body but what made his body come back online was the long hot tongue wrapping like a coil around his cock and if that wasn’t the most brilliant sight in the world. He arched himself into that morphed mouth which was so different and yet similar to the one earlier. Different in the physical aspects: teeth; sharper. Space; more. Tongue; much, much, longer. Sherlock moaned and bucked his hips up again. Yet that same mouth was gentle enough not to bite down and only graze, and it made sure that Sherlock still felt to back of John’s throat. Oh monumental pleasure welled up inside of Sherlock as he felt everything from the stomach down constrict with muscle spasms and pleasure. John took the hint and sucked harder only to make Sherlock scream as he came down John’s amazing mouth. Sherlock’s hand came to rest on John’s head as he laid down on Sherlock’s torso panting, his long white and red tongue laying out the side of his mouth as he panted. Sherlock could barely look at him without his own cock twitching.

He ran a hand through John’s mane like hair and rubbed the other’s ears. As it turned out they were just as susceptible to pleasure as human ears and when Sherlock rubbed them between his fingers and thumb the other’s tail went rigid before stretching out and sweeping back and forth along the floor. John started licking Sherlock again, at first sloppily like he was just excited to see his Sherlock but then it became more direct as his tongue became more pointed; sharper. John’s nose eventually went back down between Sherlock’s legs but didn’t stop at his still limp member. It kept going tracing a trail down between a ridge and Sherlock couldn’t help but think ‘finally!’ as John nosed at the puckered hole.
   “Let me get on my front.” Sherlock said still fairly breathless but as he moved his hips up to roll over that same overtly long tongue came out of nowhere and went directly into his prepped hole. The string of syllables and noises that came out of Sherlock’s mouth after that were undignified and to this date some of the best sounds Sherlock thinks he’s ever made because John’s tongue deserved rewards and trophies with how well it was constructed. It invaded him like nothing else ever could and it felt so fucking dirty to know John’s tongue was inside him but holy shit it felt good. Sherlock needed to start worshipping John’s tongue as it delved deeper inside of him. Every now and again Sherlock would actually spout one of three words, they would be ‘yes’, ‘more’ and ‘John’ as he never lost sight of the fact that this wolf under him licking and lapping inside of him was in fact good, honourable Doctor John Watson to which Sherlock knew was the biggest lie as he was given unspeakable dirty things that he would covet for the rest of his life and would physically beg for more. So much more. It was probably one of the most awkward positions ever as Sherlock was propped up on his shoulders on the floor as his arse was suspended in the air and his legs digging into John’s back as the wolf in question let his tongue explore Sherlock scrupulously. That tongue was inside Sherlock long enough to force him to regain the blood to the south of him and eventually that tongue retracted and he was able to lower his hips. He looked at the wolf as John licked his lips and opened his mouth as if to devour Sherlock again. Sherlock turned onto his front because right now he could be considered a bitch in heat and he needed that cock inside of him.
   “I am so ready. I need you in me. Now.” He panted and jutted his hips into the air and bucked them as a shadow loomed over him from behind and he felt something big and solid lined up with his entrance. Sherlock took in a deep breath and spread his legs further and pushed back as John pushed forward until he was inside. Just by the tip but it was…overwhelming. To feel his John inside of him again since Saturday, to know that he could grow by so much meant so many things to Sherlock he would have to spend an entire day sorting them out in his mind palace.
   “More!” He bucked backwards and the wolf overtook the control and pressed down completely against his back. Sherlock was on his elbows and knees with the cock of a wolf inside of him and still none of this seemed wrong to him because the waves of pleasure rolling into him at being utterly overtaken and controlled was absolutely perfect. He needed this. John made it to the hilt without splitting Sherlock open and Sherlock finally registered John was growling.
   “I am all yours. All yours. Yours.” Sherlock said and the responding sound was one between a growl of agreement and a keen as John’s hips cantered forward.
   “Go on. Take me. Claim me some more.” Sherlock didn’t care how many times he had to repeat that phrase if it meant John fucked him so hard that he came within five direct thrusts into that one spot inside of him combined with the sheer force going in and out of him. He screamed as his own orgasm overtook him and let the wolf take his own pleasure as he rode the waves of his orgasm and when he realised the wolf wasn’t nearly as close he clenched down around that perfect cock and found himself being a induced into another tidal wave of pleasure. It shook his body as he came a second time within a few minutes of his last. This one was more pathetic, a squirt which turned into a continuous dribble that pooled under him on the floor. He could feel John tensing above him, the quickening of his breath, the speed of his thrusts. Bliss. Then he felt the explosion inside of him, so much all at once and he moaned at the sensation of being filled whilst John actually howled so loud and Sherlock relished in it as John still move in him a lot longer than necessary. John bit down on the back Sherlock’s neck leaving a large scar of clamped teeth and Sherlock screamed again as he came a third time. He came with a thick ungraceful glob and couldn’t control his breathing at all as John finally pulled out of him and laid down next to Sherlock on the hair. Sherlock collapsed against the wolf who licked at the bite from behind as they spooned. Sherlock was a panting, shaking, come covered mess. He closed his eyes and listened to the swipes of the tongue against his neck. ‘Perfect.’

The next morning Sherlock awoke to the warmth of a man, a very naked man. A man who must have transformed from wolf to human in the middle of the night and Sherlock cursed himself that he hadn’t witnessed it. Sherlock nudged John awake and for a moment he grinned at him before realising they were naked, on the floor, and Sherlock was covered in bruises.
   “Dear lord, what happened last night?” He asked groggy. ‘Still no memory’ Sherlock observed and stretched only to find a great deal of pain shoot up him and he curled in on himself and hand on his back and John instantly holding him.
   “Did I…?” John trailed off as if he’d committed such an atrocious crime and Sherlock shook his head.
   “You did not take me by force, if that is what you are thinking. I was very willing, trust me. I needed last night in way I was not even aware of so thank you very much John. Thank you so very much.” He grinned and leaned down and kissed John who kissed back desperately and held onto his hip.
   “Look at you. You look ruined. Bruises up and down your torso, legs and arms. Even your arse looks bad…” John blushed and looked away.
   “Was it good? I mean…was I good?” He stumbled with his words and Sherlock draped himself over John with a smile on his face.
   “I ejaculated three times without being touched once during the intercourse and forth time inside of your mouth. I have never known pleasure like that…you taking utter control over me and effectively rendering me a Neanderthal of ‘pleases’ and ‘John’s’.” He rolled on top of John and pinned him underneath ignoring the shooting pains as best as possible.
   “I belong to you.” Sherlock whispered and promptly fell onto John completely out of it. John panicked for a few seconds as Sherlock collapsed on top of him and promptly started to check him for any severe injuries he might’ve cause his hands stopping at the bite mark at the back of Sherlock’s neck.
   “Mine…” He breathed out slowly before nestling Sherlock’s body against his and letting himself fall back asleep.

Over the next few months coming to the end of summer John became a guinea pig to Sherlock’s many colourful concoctions, diabolical brews, and downright awful potions as he tried to completely to reverse his original mixture to make the wolves permanently human.
   “One more John, please. Then you can go home!” Sherlock thrusting a green liquid which spelled trouble under John’s chin.
   “Sherlock please, I have been here since the crack of dawn.” John complained and Sherlock smirked.
   “You have been here since last night or have all these liquids caused short term amnesia?” Sherlock leered at him and John scoffed and looked down snatching the conical flash from Sherlock’s hands.
   “You, sir, are a beast.” John shook his head and peered into the small circular rim of the flask as Sherlock licked his lips.
   “My dear Watson, I believe that is your stigma.” Sherlock said in a more than sultry voice and John huffed.
   “Alright, but only because you have a very good mouth.” John held it to his lips as Sherlock continued.
   “In more ways than one.” John snorted and had to hold it away as he hit the man on his arm. After he calmed down he held it back to his lips and took as much as he could in a few gulps before all the green liquid was gone.

After he swallowed it Sherlock kept him there another hour studying any reactions he had and all that happened were slight dilation of the pupils and rapid breathing. Sherlock seemed almost upset when John explained that was mostly due to Sherlock’s hand all over his naked body. Of course that didn’t stop him from using that glorious mouth of his as a going away present.

Eventually Sherlock resigned that it was another failure and as the Sun had still an hour before starting to set he let John finally put his clothes on and leave. Well not before pushing the man against the nearest surface and kissing him breathless. The man clutched at the corner of the wall to the staircase to the outside world and tried to regulate his breathing before shaking his head, flipping his hand out in goodbye, and leaving. Sherlock grinned smugly to himself and wondered up to his room for a wash as he still smelt oddly of lemons from an experiment a few days ago.

That was until he caught sight of John collapsing just off the path back to the village near the treeline. Out of sight for anyone who didn’t have a higher view. He grabbed his hood, gloves, collar, gun and boots before sprinting down to John. Hopefully he wasn’t dying. Hopefully the wolf was going to come out and not be permanently a wolf who would rip his throat out. Hopefully John Watson would remember him as wolf.

As Sherlock neared he heard the unpleasant sound of John in pain, torturous pain if the growls and groans were anything to go by. Then he saw for the first time John was transforming. His nails were growing out into sharp points on his hands as a long blond tail grew from his coccyx just above his rear and burst out through his trousers. His clothes were shredding and in result of his pain he was tearing them off of himself to get free of the confinement. His ears grew more pointed and yet atop his head wolf ears also force themselves from his scalp. ‘Perhaps this is why they refuse to remember…because of the pain.’ Sherlock knelt beside the quivering man/wolf as he morphed and then it just…stopped. Although his breath was still erratic from excess pain now receding and he opened his mouth, panting to show sharpened canines, the transformation wasn’t continuing. It had stopped, no bones moving or cracking into wolf form. No fur being grown in all regions. It had all just stopped. John was left half curled into himself with elongated nails, new ears, sharp teeth, and a bushy long tail tucked between his legs.
   “Incredible.” Sherlock breathed out and John looked at him startled before bolting in the opposite direction. Sherlock scuffled after him planting a tranquiliser into his arse and making the wolf man collapse.
   “Calm down, I am not going to hurt you.” John although severely drowsy still managed to try and crawl away. Sherlock put another one slightly lower and to the side.
   “John, be calm. It is only me, Sherlock.” Sherlock edged towards smiling. Smiling not to try and comfort but in marvel of what he had accomplished. It was magnificent in his eyes. John turned and tried against all his muscles shutting down to move away. Sherlock took this opportunity to cover John with himself.
   “Shush. I am not going to hurt you.” Sherlock whispered with a smile into his ear and John whimpered. A slight pang ran through Sherlock thinking he might be in pain again but all thoughts were wiped as John bucked back into him. John moaned out seeming to have lost all coherency at this point and Sherlock let his gloved hands trail down his thigh before cupping John’s cock and finding it hard.
   “I wonder what brought this up, hmm?” He asked with a velvet voice that John bowed his head to and bucked down this time into Sherlock’s hand. John’s tail was slightly in the way tucked between his legs but Sherlock was certain that John would be able to find his own length rising up with every motion. Sherlock was lost in the sensation of John bucking against him that he had forgotten about the other hand holding the gun and he squeezed the trigger without even realising. John whined and came onto the floor underneath them. Sherlock panted above him and pulled up the hand to stroke his head.
   “I will have to ask you about that later.” The hand holding the gun tucked it away and pulled out the black leather collar.
   “For now we just need to keep you hidden.” He said buckling the collar his hand running gently through John’s hair as the wolf imprinted his nails into the ground and kept bucking back against Sherlock as he groaned. After a while of calming John down Sherlock bundled him up over his shoulder and brought him back up to the house putting him to sleep in his own bed before taking out the darts. He put away his gear and only left the collar on before going downstairs to look back at his recipes.

After tucking his boots underneath the bed he watched John asleep in his new form for a while before settling down just as naked next to him.
   “Absolutely stunning.” He said next to John’s ear who in his very sensitive state shuddered with his entire body and reached out for Sherlock welcomingly pulled him into an embrace.

A scream, rapid movement, and a loud thud awoke Sherlock very abruptly the next morning.
   “What the hell happened?” Were the first words to come out of John’s mouth and the first thing to come out of Sherlock’s was,
   “You could at least remember!” He collapsed backwards onto the bed as John shuffled about on the floor.
   “No…no wait…” Sherlock perked up and sat back up as he watched the still transformed man work it out.
   “Walking away, headache, pain, a lot of pain. Unmeasurable pain. You. Darts, you shot me. In the arse! You wanker! Oh god…you. On top of me…and me…I ca-…” It was at this point John ran his hands threw his hair and noticed that his nails were not as dull as they should be. He looked down at his hand and made a strangled noise in his throat.
   “What on Earth did you do to me?!” He yelled accusingly at Sherlock brandishing the nails and Sherlock looked at the mirror.
   “Not the worst bit.” He said looking away only to hear movement a sudden stop around his mirrors area and an odd whimpering sound escape from the same direction.
   “WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ME?!” Came the very loud and vocal response and as Sherlock looked up to see a 5’’9 man pounce on him from the other side of the room and shake him violently.
   “Claws! Claws! Claws!” Sherlock shouted as John’s nails dug into the back of his shoulders and the man/wolf wrenched away his hands over his face and then down his neck. They stopped. Sherlock gulped and looked at the door wondering if he could escape. John’s hand came out and pulled his chin forward so they were inches from each other.
   “What. The. Fuck. Is. This?” John said tugging on the collar around his neck. At one point Sherlock had a very logical answer about John transforming completely and it being a way to stop other people from killing him if they thought he was a house pet. It all died in his throat as Sherlock looked at the positively murderous eyes of one John Watson looming over him. He lied back a bit trying to get some space only to be followed until he was lying on the bed again with John hovering over him; one hand on the collar, and the other clutching his chin.

The door opened with Mycroft in the doorway looking severely disgruntled.
   “Honestly Sherlock, what is all this noi- Oh.” Both men on the bed looking at the man in the doorway. John still completely naked and Sherlock only half covered by a sheet.
   “Perhaps not the best time Mycroft.” Sherlock said swallowing.
   “Definitely not, I am about to eat your brother.” John growled out and looked down at Sherlock who actually looked as if he believed him. Neither was looking at the door as it closed. John licked his lips and Sherlock actually thought he was going to die. ‘What do you want to do in your last few seconds Sherlock?’ His mind asked and there was really only one answer and option at this point. He pushed up and connected their lips in an open mouthed kiss. The hand on Sherlock’s chin relinquished and moved to his curls tugging on them and making him moan. He could feel John’s nails on his scalp pulling at his strands and curls an effectively rendering him useless to the outside world. After a while they broke apart and John was breathing in slow breaths as he looked up and down Sherlock’s torso a smile blooming on his face.
   “Why the collar?” He asked again much more sedated this time with hooded eyes that didn’t look nearly as murderous intent as they did.
   “If I belong to you, then you most certainly belong to me.” Sherlock hooked two fingers under the collar and pulled him down again connecting his lips.

For the remainder of the day they spent it together in bed only Sherlock going down once to fetch food and scaring the hell of the old cook when he walked into the kitchen naked. After a particular good round John watched the ceiling as he got his breath back and finally posed the question.
   “What is going to happen now, Sherlock?” He asked and the other propped himself up on his elbow.
   “You stay here of course, and I will try and find a more suitable state of being for you. I would rather miss your wolf half if he were to completely disappear.” He sighed and John turned to face him on his side.
   “What about my patients?” He asked and Sherlock sighed rolling back onto his back.
   “Surely there is another one of your medical friends who can take over whilst you become my personal physician?” John laughed and smiled into Sherlock’s side before kissing up his chest and resting at his neck. Sherlock hummed in appreciation.
   “I do have one old friend who as far as I know is out of work. You do not for a second think it would be suspicious if I moved up to the manor to become just your special physician? That that would not bring about gossip as to why I would never be seen again?” John asked and Sherlock furrowed his brows before groaning.
   “Fine, mine and Mycroft’s. If he thinks for one second you will do anything more than heal him, I shall castrate him.” Sherlock huffed out in a dangerous tone as John giggled into the side of his neck.
   “This is why I love you.” John grinned and kissed Sherlock but pulled away when the other did not respond. Sherlock was lying very still and blinking in rapid succession.
   “Sherlock…?” John swallowed and after a while began shaking him as he didn’t respond until a choked out little word made its way through his breath,
   “love?” He asked and John nodded stroking his cheek.
   “Any comment?” John was feeling nervous now. Was he going to be sent away? Technically this was the first time they had actually shared a bed, before today it had all been in the cellar. Sherlock may not even be close to seeing this as a romantic relationship. A hand came out and grasped the one on his cheek. ‘Oh god, this is it…’ John was about to go into a panic attack when Sherlock stilled him with a steely look.
   “Stop thinking. You overreact.” He said shaking John’s hand and placing it over his own heart.
   “It refuses to slow down. Am I dying?” John felt the dangerously fast heartbeat beneath his fingertips as it pounded on the ribcage below him and he laughed out of giddiness.
   “It’s alright? I mean…you do not mind that I…feel so deeply?” John asked weary of his own words and in a jumble of movement and seconds was on his back and pinned down to the bed.
   “Alright?! It is fantastic! John Watson, I love you! And marvel of marvels, you love me too?! Now that is better than alright, more fascinating than wolves, more worrying than townsfolk liking me, and definitely, assuredly the most brilliant, astounding and stunning thing I have ever heard. I am going to spend the rest of my life deducing you, John. My John. My dear, dearly loved, John Watson.” It was John’s turn to blink rapidly at the sudden confession and Sherlock still managed to say it all as if it were 100% fact. John guessed that to Sherlock it must have been and in his own impulsive happiness he reached up and entwined them both together kissing Sherlock furiously as Sherlock’s red riding hood sat hooked up on the back of the door.

 

The End.