The beeping woke him. Sherlock's eyes slid opened and quickly snapped shut again in order to block out the blindingly bright light. He struggled to clear his sluggish mind. Sherlock's eyes remained shut but he inhaled deeply. The smell of antiseptics was not enough to completely block the faint smell of animals. Baskerville. The thought floated quickly through his mind before the drugs took hold of him again and he drifted back to unconsciousness.
221B Baker Street
Dr. John Watson paced around the flat. "Lestrade, what do you mean there are no leads!" he snapped into the mobile. Sherlock had been missing for two months. He and John had been investigating a case in Baskerville, when the fog had enveloped them both. When it finally cleared Sherlock was gone without a trace. Even with Mycroft's government connections and searching the research base, parts of which were still restricted, they were unable to find any sign of what may have happened to Sherlock. John knew that there was some kind of foul play at hand.
"I'm sorry John, but I think it's time to close the case." Lestrade said softly. John's eyes squeezed shut painfully as the thought of giving up ran through his mind. Rationally, he knew that the odds of finding Sherlock alive at this point were practically zero, he just couldn't bring himself to do it.
"Please Greg, we have to keep trying." John said struggling to keep his voice even. Sherlock had become more than just his flat mate; he had become his friend.
"As much as it grieves him to admit it, Mycroft agrees. We are closing the case." Lestrade said in a tone that left no room for argument. John sighed and thought it better not to argue. This was far from over though. Mycroft and the Yard may have given up, but John wasn't ready yet. Back to the scene of the crime, he thought as he headed back to the research base.
Sherlock struggled to fight of the effects of the sedatives. They failed to increase the dose as his tolerance steadily increased over time. He kept his eyes closed and breathing even in order to attract as little attention as possible. He opened his other senses and listened. The steady beeping of the cardiac monitor was familiar as well as the steady hum of the IV pump. Sherlock could also hear the muffled cries of animals in the background. He was sure that he was still in the bowels of the labs in Baskerville. He could hear the murmurs of the researchers as the stood in the hallway. "The subject has been responding to the treatment." A female voice said. Sherlock was unsure of whom she spoke.
"Indeed." Another researcher replied. This voice belonged to a male, a deep baritone. Their conversation was interrupted a security alarm. "Perimeter breach" The automated system announced. Sherlock struggled to stay calm in the hopes his heart rate would not increase and attract attention. "Bollocks! What now?" the male snapped as both researchers moved further down the hall to investigate. As their foot stepped grew fainter, Sherlock cracked his eyes open ever so slightly. The lights had been dimmed and Sherlock didn't see anyone in the immediate vicinity.
He carefully turned his head. The room spun for a moment. Vertigo. He thought as he continued to take stock of his symptoms from his recently regained senses. Muscle weakness. Fatigue. Nausea. He attempted to sit up but found that he had been strapped to the bed. There was a catheter draining his urine and he had an NG tube and central line, which were both infusing substances into him. There was also a dressing on his lower abdomen. His entire body ached but his abdomen was particularly sore. The alarm was still active and it had now been two minutes and 45 second since it had begun. Sherlock surveyed the room cataloging the details. Two doors; one exit; one adjoining to the medical supply room and pharmacy. Two- way glass mirrors for subject observation; additionally motion detectors and cameras throughout the facility. Trapped. Just as Sherlock finished his observation the main power was cut. The emergency generators kicked on and power was diverted to the most critical equipment. The animals screeched in dismay.
A few seconds later, the generators switched off and Sherlock was enveloped in darkness. Sherlock lay in the dark straining to hear anything that might clue him in as to what was happening. Twelve minutes later, the power switched back on and the security alarm was silent. Sherlock could only contemplate what may have caused the breach.
John groaned as he fought to stay awake. "Dr. Watson, you should have left well enough alone. We were going to kill you as soon as you were caught, but then we changed our minds. We think that you will make an excellent subject." The female research said cruelly as she injected him with the sedative.
"What are your plans with this one?" Her assistant asked as he logged the John's height, weight and vital signs into their system. She smiled.
"Since it was Dr. Watson's obsessions with Sherlock Holmes which brought him here to us. I think that I have devised something rather fitting for the two of them."
Mycroft shut his laptop in frustration. Not only was Sherlock still missing but also now Dr. Watson had gone missing a month ago as well. Mycroft still suspected Baskerville was at the heart of both disappearances but had found no concrete evidence with which to support the theory. He asked Lestrade to close the case so the he would be free to do some digging without the yard looking over his shoulder. It had taken every technical contact Mycroft had but they had managed to hack into Baskerville's computer system and while no names were used just subject numbers there were a number of suspicious anomalies.
A new subject 303 had been added to the system the same day of Sherlock's disappearance. The height and weight would match Sherlock's and two months after that, around the time that John went missing; another subject 315 was added to the system with similar height and weight to that of John Watson. The procedures were coded and not described in any detail. The only things clearly documented were medications, vital signs, and weight. The two subjects whom Mycroft believed to be John and Sherlock had similarly coded procedures. However there were differences in the third coded procedure in each of the subjects.
Mycroft was still working on his political influence to have the entire facility shut down completely. This was taking longer than anticipated, without legally obtained evidence; but Mycroft believed that he would soon get the authorization to shut Baskerville down. He just hoped that if Sherlock and John were still there that Mycroft could get them both out alive.
"Bloody pain in my bollocks that you are Sherlock. " Mycroft murmured under his breath. "What I go through for family." Mycroft sighed as much trouble as Sherlock had caused him over the years. He was Mycroft's only brother and he did love him. Sherlock had come as surprise to both of their parents. His father had been a diplomat and travelled constantly. It was during one of his trips to France he met and fell in love their mother Vivian Lemont. He had convinced her to marry him and come to England. Mycroft still had trouble picturing their romance. His father was rather cold and calculating, but at the same time could be extremely charming when he wanted something, which served him well in his profession and a trait which Mycroft seemed to have inherited. Their mother on the other hand was sensitive and wore he heart on her sleeve. There must be a grain of truth to the old adage "opposites attract" Mycroft supposed. All things considered, his parents had a happy marriage. They had been happy to have Mycroft. It had taken his mother years to conceive and they were not about to push their luck. Mycroft could still remember the shocked expression on his father's face when their mother had blurted out that she was pregnant; full of apologies and tears. Change of life baby. Luckily once the shock wore off, his parents acclimated to the idea of a second child. He could still remember the day Sherlock was born. He had been a beautiful baby and when Mummy gave him to Mycroft to hold the first time he had fallen in love. Mycroft had many fond memories of their early years together, especially the summers they spent together in France with their Mummy's Mother Grand-mere Colette.
Over time, however, the 10-year age difference became a hindrance in their relationship. Sherlock was only six when Mycroft had left for university. They had only seen each other after that during holidays and semester breaks, while Mycroft attended university. Sherlock, even as a very young child, had been highly intelligent as well as brutally honest which got him into trouble more times than Mycroft could count. It also caused tension between Sherlock and his classmates, which further exacerbated his antisocial tendencies isolating him even further from his peers. When their father died in Mycroft's first semester at university, it had been another emotional blow to the entire family.
Mycroft cringed as he remembered Sherlock's teenaged years. Sherlock had become wild and uncontrollable, leaving their poor mother at the end of her rope. She had been forced to institutionalize Sherlock for drug addiction treatment at the age of fourteen. The psychiatrist labeled Sherlock as a high functioning sociopath while in treatment. Sherlock fought with the physician tooth and nail. Eventually, he was released after detox and nearly a year of psychiatric treatment not so much cured according to the doctor but stabilized. Mycroft always wondered if there was more to the story than that but Sherlock had refused to talk about it and at that time Mycroft lacked the influence and foresight to obtain the medical records. Years later, he attempted to retrieve them, but there had been a fire and the records were destroyed. Mycroft knew that Sherlock still harbored resentment towards him because of it. Despite everything, Mycroft had no regrets. It was better to have his brother hate him than to bury him. Luckily, once Sherlock got clean he focused his never ending energy into learning both self taught and at university. He became fascinated with crime and had fallen into detective work. Now at the age of 24, he had finally become somewhat stable living and working with his partner Dr. John Watson. Mycroft would be damned if he let anything happen to Sherlock now.
Subject's 303 and 315 were both progressing nicely. The surgeries as well as other procedures and treatments were completed without complications. Initially the procedures and course of treatment had been identical for each of the subjects the only difference being the initial 2 month time gap however; after the two procedures coded Alpha and Beta were tolerated well by both subjects that is when the really tricky part came in. In order for the third and final procedures to work on each subject, certain conditions must be met. While the last procedures were different for each subject, they had to be completed simultaneously. Procedure Icarus was performed on subject 303, while procedure Luna was completed on Subject 315. These procedures required genetic splicing rather than surgery. The timing was critical, as it would serve as a control in the experiment. It had been two weeks since procedures Icarus and Luna were performed and the most recent chromosomal tests should radical changes to both of the subjects DNA. While their outward appearances showed no major changes yet their spliced DNA was spreading like wildfire. Soon there would be allowed to awaken from the chemically induced comas and major physical and mental changes should begin to appear. This is where the experimental theories would truly be put to the test.
"Let me get this straight Mycroft you had an order direct from the prime minister with the approval of the crown to raid and shut down Baskerville." Greg Lestrade couldn't believe it. Baskerville was supposedly untouchable but Mycroft had the order in his hand and was ready to go with a squad of enforcement both from the yard and private sectors.
"Quite right Lestrade, I will be accompanying you during the raid. I have unfinished business with that facility." Mycroft said sharply. It was the only show of emotion he had seen Mycroft display since Sherlock went missing. Greg knew that there was bad blood between the siblings but always suspected that Mycroft cared more than he had initially let on.
"Since everything seems to be in order, I guess we'll be off." Lestrade said as he and Mycroft entered the squad car.
Mycroft grit his teeth as they continued to search the labyrinthine, which was Baskerville's restricted sector. The entire electrical system had shut down with the raid. So here he was with half of Scotland Yard manually searching the area with guns and torches raised. "This is going to take a while mate," Lastrade murmured.
"Gift for stating the obvious, Lestrade. I don't care how long it takes I want every inch of this place inspected." Mycroft said in a cold tone that left no room for argument.
The fog began to slowly lift from Sherlock's mind and he found himself in a place between asleep and awake reliving a memory from seventeen years ago like it was yesterday. "Be a good boy while I'm gone Sherlock. Mind Mother and Father." Mycroft kneeled down to hug him goodbye and Sherlock couldn't even get his arms completely around his brother at sixteen Mycroft towered over his frail six year old form. Mycroft squeezed him gently. "Je t'aime petit frère." Mycroft whispered kissing Sherlock's soft curls. The scene changed before his eyes as he was thrust into another memory, which he thought he had forgotten.
"Non maman, je ne veux pas aller a lecole que les autres enfants me demandent un monster." Sherlock cried as tears rolled down his cheeks. Mycroft was gone. Left to go to university. Father was dead. Mummy tried to smile but it wasn't real.
"Ma Cherie, tu dois aller." She murmured kissing his tears away.
Meanwhile, John was in his own fugue of memories as struggled to awaken from his own coma. "No John! I am n-not j-just like Da." Harry slurred as she stumbled into the car. John had to be up in to in two hours for exams for anatomy and organic chemistry. He was on scholarship in exchange for his enlistment in her majesty's army upon graduation. He needed to keep his grades up not only for that, but also to get into medical school. Their father had drunk himself to death; cirrhosis and hepatic encephalopathy. By the looks of it his sister was heading down the exact same path. Their mother had seen more death and violence in one lifetime one would think possible. His father had been a mean drunk and he had taken his anger out on his wife and children. John never understood why their mother stayed till the end. Love must truly be blind. John swore he would never end up like his father. Their mother would most likely loose another family member to alcohol if Harry kept this up.
He was then transported back to Afghanistan. "Incoming!" John yelled as he made his way to the injured soldiers on the battlefield the sounds of gunfire and mortar shells filled the air along with the screams of the wounded. He and his men had been ambushed by al-Qaida rebels in a supposed safe zone. John made his way to the wounded. Paradoxical breathing which was the hallmark of flail chest, the blunt trauma had caused the ribs to separate from the chest wall most likely also causing a pneumothorax as well. Even if John attempted a needle aspiration, without a chest tube it was a lost cause. Even with proper medical treatment, fail chest had a 50 percent mortality rate. John reluctantly moved on to another solider. Who was screaming and holding his right arm tight to his chest. "Let me see." John shouted. He pulled the extremity towards him and saw that the entire forearm was missing. He immediately put on a tourniquet to stop the bleeding. The limb was a goner and amputation was the only option. John was preparing to move the solider to a more secure location, when he felt the bullet tear through him. He cursed this war and he cursed himself as he saw the sand painted red with his blood and the blood of the other soldiers.
Mycroft turned down yet another corridor. The lab animals screeched at the intrusion. Mycroft brought the torch round the room and stopped when he saw two still figures in an isolation room. His heart began to gallop as he entered and realized that he had found both Sherlock and John. They both had been disconnected from the monitors and other medical equipment. The only things amiss were the saline locks in their hands and hospital gowns.
"Lestrade! In here!" Mycroft shouted. "Sherlock? John? Can you hear me?" Mycroft asked as he slowly approached his brother and Dr. Watson. Sherlock moaned as struggled to open his eyes. They fluttered opened for a second but quickly shut again. Sherlock's head began to pound. He thought he heard his brother or had that just been a dream? Nothing was clear. "Sherlock, open your eyes." Mycroft whispered. Sherlock felt a gentle stroke on his brow. Dream, had to be. He had been six the last time Mycroft and touched him like that.
"S'il vous plait ne me quitte pas Myc." Sherlock whispered in a voice hoarse from disuse. His eyes were still closed and he was still under the impression that he was dreaming.
Mycroft pulled his hand away in shock. He hadn't heard Sherlock speak French since before he went to university he always assumed that he had forgotten how. He also hadn't been called by his diminutive since he was a child himself. "Je ne pars pas. Open your eyes. Come on now." Mycroft encouraged gently. Lastrade made his way into the room and Mycroft held up a hand to silence him. Found them. He mouthed as not to confuse his disoriented brother. Lestrade gave a curt nod and waited silently in the corner of the room. Sherlock's eyes fluttered opened again and he began to blink rapidly as his eyes started to tear. Mycroft moved the torch away from his face to give his eyes a minute to adjust.
"Mycroft? Is that really you?" Sherlock rasped. Mycroft nodded sharply. Sherlock tried to lift his hand but realized he was restrained to the bed. Mycroft began to undo the restraints. "Where am I?" Sherlock asked once he was untied. His head still felt cloudy and he was unbelievably tired.
"Baskerville," Mycroft spit the word out with such malice that Sherlock was taken by surprise. Mycroft's head snapped over towards the sound of a moan nearby. Sherlock mimicked the gesture and John came into his line of sight.
"John! John wake up." Mycroft placed his finger gently to Sherlock's lips and shook his head.
"Don't startle him," he whispered. "He will wake up confused and disoriented like you. The last thing we need is to trigger a flashback." Sherlock certainly couldn't argue with that. John still had issues with residual PTSD. Mycroft made no move towards John. He just watched and waited silently. "I don't want to touch him until I know he's reoriented." Mycroft explained. Sherlock wanted to get up and go to John but was too weak to do so.
"Mycroft, help me up. He won't attack me. I'm sure of it." Sherlock said as he attempted to push himself out of bed. Mycroft helped Sherlock stand and slowly walked with him to John's bedside. "John? Can you hear me?" Sherlock inquired softly. Sherlock's hold on his brother's arms tightened as a wave of dizziness came over him. He closed his eyes and his other senses seemed to sharpen. He could hear Mycroft's pulse and respirations as well as the lab animals scurrying in the cages. He could also sense John's heartbeat and breathing as well as a third persons. He could smell Mycroft's cologne mixed with fear and sweat, which was faintly noticeable over the overwhelming smell of the lab animals. He could make out the slightly uneven grooves in the floor, as he stood barefoot on it. Sherlock opened his eyes again as the vertigo passed and identified the third person as DI Lestrade. "You brought official backup Myc." Sherlock murmured, unconsciously using Mycroft's childhood nickname, somewhat surprised that Scotland Yard had been involved and that Mycroft had not used only private contacts.
Mycroft sighed with a scoff. "Unavoidable in this case, unfortunately." He said with exasperation. Sherlock stopped as they reached John's bedside.
"John," he called out again in a soft soothing voice. John winced in his sleep and moaned. Sherlock surmised that he was likely amidst an unpleasant dream. John thought that he heard Sherlock calling to him amongst the battlefield chaos. But that couldn't be right; Sherlock didn't serve with him in Afghanistan. John opened his eyes, and as sounds of the battlefield faded, he was greeted by Sherlock in a hospital gown, clinging to Mycroft. I must still be dreaming. John slowly shook his head to try to clear it and quickly realized that it had been a mistake as the room swam before his eyes. He groaned as he regained his awareness of his body and all of the maladies he was suffering from: vertigo, nausea, muscle aches, abdominal pain, and generalized weakness, just to name a few.
"Sherlock? Mycroft?" John questioned as he pulled against his restraints in an attempt to move.
Mycroft turned his head and nodded to someone in the shadows of the dark room. As the figure came closer, John recognized Lestrade. "Lets get you untied." Lestrade said as he undid the restraints.
"What happened? Where are we?" John asked as he took in his surroundings.
"Baskerville, John." Sherlock answered. A flood of memories came crashing back with the mention of Baskerville. Sherlock's disappearance; John's search and capture. Then nothing.
"How long?" John asked as his stomach clenched at the thought of what had been done to both of them. The restricted sector of Baskerville had been a thing of nightmares. Animals as well as humans subjected to the researchers sick experiments. John had stumbled across a few subjects when he broke into Baskerville in search of Sherlock.
"You've been here a month; Sherlock longer." Mycroft said eyeing John warily. Both John and Sherlock seemed off but John had an undertone of potential violence that Mycroft could sense. The doctor's eyes shone slightly, looking more like an animals than a humans in the dark room.
"Ne vous inquietez pas se, il n'est pas dangereux." Sherlock murmured in Mycroft's ear sensing his tension regarding John. Mycroft's body tensed.
"Quelque chose ne va pas avec lui." Mycroft whispered as his grip tightened around Sherlock's arm. John frowned deeply. Sherlock smirked. He knew John's French was limited to bonjour and merci. He could sense John's irritation with both of them for not speaking English.
"I didn't know either of you spoke French," John said. He closed his eyes as a chill came over him. He could sense things that he shouldn't, all five of his senses were much more acute. He also felt restless. Almost as if something inside him was being restrained and wanted out. Great now I've gone mad. John thought. His eyes turned to Sherlock in assessment. He most likely was suffering from vertigo and weakness like John judging be his grip on Mycroft's arm. John could hear his pulse and respirations, which were both elevated, like his own. He would have to ask him about other anomalies but now was not the time for that. Not in front of Mycroft and Lestrade.
"The other yarders can complete the search Mycroft if you would prefer to stay with your brother and accompany him and Dr. Watson to the hospital." Lestrade suggested as he turned and eyed both Sherlock and Mycroft. Mycroft nodded his assent.
"I want them both transferred to my estate where a private physician can examine them." Mycroft ordered. John snorted and rolled his eyes but knew better than to argue with Mycroft at this point. Much as it pained him to admit it, Mycroft had saved both their lives and privacy was probably best until they knew exactly what had been done to them during their captivity.
Holmes Estate, Sussex
The physician completed his notes, which were all on paper, nothing electronic was created, which could be hacked into and discovered. Mycroft sighed deeply. This was worse than anything that he imagined. Sherlock and John were furious at being kept in the dark, but Mycroft needed time to think and plan. They would have to be told soon, as more changes would most likely occur. They were already aware of heighten senses but that was just the tip of the iceberg and so much was still unknown. Both John and Sherlock had been changed on a genetic level. The changes to their DNA were still occurring at an alarming rate. Genetic splicing was used but they still were unable to pin point the exact origin of the spliced genes that were used on John and Sherlock. One thing was clear though the genetic changes in both of them were quite different.
Sherlock paced rapidly around the room. Mycroft! He was back to acting like a colossal git. Both he and John had a right to know what was done to them and what was happening to their bodies. Sherlock stopped as he constant pain between his shoulder blades increased. "Pain getting worse?" John asked. Sherlock bit back a scathing reply and simply nodded. The pain had started out mild but had begun to steadily increase as time passed. John got up from the chair, which he had been fidgeting in and gently palpated between his shoulders. Sherlock steeled himself as the pain increased. "Sherlock, I can feel a hard mass under the fascia. It feels calcified, like bone." John murmured sounding quite disturbed.
"I need to lay down John." Sherlock confessed as wave of vertigo overtook him. John helped him to the sofa. Sherlock then spread himself out prone and closed his eyes waiting for the dizziness to pass. Sherlock slowly opened his eyes to see John by his side. John looked almost as bad as Sherlock felt. His eyes were shining with an inhuman light and his agitation was clear. While not in pain, John was suffering from extreme restlessness. He described the feeling as 'something trying to crawl its way out from inside me,' which was making it extremely difficult for John to think clearly let alone analyze their situation. He had been removing various articles of clothing claiming they were too restrictive. The only thing still left on him were his pants, which Sherlock could tell he wanted to remove but still had enough modesty left to keep them on. As Sherlock looked him over, he noticed that John's muscle mass had increased dramatically. There was not a bit fat on him. He was tight and toned with a body which now belied his age. He didn't look at day over 25.
Sherlock's frame on the other hand had remained for the most part unchanged. He was still thin and lithe. The only obvious change to his frame being the painful mass between his shoulders. Mycroft knew more than he was letting on. Sherlock had to see those test results. Whatever was done to them was still having ongoing effects. Sherlock's eyes flicked to the well-hidden surveillance cameras. Mycroft had eyes everywhere. Sherlock was pulled from his thoughts as John groaned and began to violently pace around the room. "Have to get out of here." John said. His body was coiled and ready to snap. "I'm not right Sherlock. Dangerous. I'll hurt someone." John whispered clenching his fists in frustration.
"Don't be daft John. While you are capable of violence, I have never once had a concern that you would use it against anyone who was less than deserving." Sherlock said in what he hoped passed as a soothing voice. In truth, Sherlock was worried. John's control seemed to be slipping and he was only becoming more agitated as time passed. Sherlock was beginning to believe him when he claimed something was fighting for control. John shook his head and dashed from the room.
"John wait!" Sherlock shouted and struggled to get up as the pain increased. Sherlock heard scuffling outside. He opened the door just in time to see the physician pull the needle out of John's bicep, with Mycroft at his side, as Mycroft's security held John still. "Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted furious that they had resorted to sedating John. John's movements slowed as the sedative took effect. A stretcher materialized and John was placed onto it.
"I put it off for as long as possible Sherlock. You may not believe me but it was necessary. I may be forced to the same thing to you soon." Mycroft said in a tired voice.
Sherlock shook his head violently. "You do not always know what's best! I'm not a child anymore. You can't treat me without consent and the same is true for John." Sherlock practically spat his anger seething.
A pained looked flittered across Mycroft's face, but was quickly replaced with his normal cold efficiency. "I can and will do anything in my power to ensure safety for the both of you." Before Sherlock could reply, the pain spiked and he cried out crumbling to the floor curling into himself.
The physician approached after Mycroft nodded. He plunged a needle into Sherlock's arm. The last thing Sherlock heard before he lost consciousness was Mycroft whispering to him in French. "Pardonnez-moi frère. Je suis desole."
Mycroft paced nervously as the physician updated him. An x-ray had been repeated on Sherlock's back and shoulders. The mass was indeed a combination of bony structures, which resembled wings. The bones were forming and pushing against muscle and skin that is what had been causing Sherlock so much pain. They bony appendages were growing at an alarming rate and had already pierced through the muscular fascia. At this rate they would erupt through the skin and most likely continue to form and grow unimpeded. Sherlock's bone density had also dropped significantly. His bones were now nearly hollow and his lung capacity was greatly increased. "I wouldn't recommend trying to remove them until they have finished forming as they may regenerate if amputated too early. Additionally, there is a high risk of paralysis as they are growing directly from the spinal cord. Mycroft had the irrational urge to scream. Sherlock and John were both still heavily sedated.
Mycroft grit his teeth and asked. "What about John?"
The physician was silent for a moment before answering. "I can say for sure Dr. Watson seems to be on the brink of a major physiological change. Nothing grossly abnormal has shown up yet on x-ray but his vital signs and labs are completed off the charts. I wish I could offer you a more definite answer but I am at a loss." Mycroft frowned deeply. None of this was the slightest bit reassuring. "I recommend keeping them both heavily sedated for now." Mycroft nodded his assent reluctantly. I've put them in a prison with different walls. He thought guiltily.
One week later
His private physician awaked Mycroft at around midnight. The light from the full moon shown through his bedroom window as he scrambled out of bed and quickly made his way to where Sherlock and John were being held. "There been a startling development involving Dr. Watson. We have moved him to a more secure holding area." The physician explained.
"Why would that be necessary if he is sedated?" Mycroft asked as he followed the doctor.
"You'll see." He replied evasively. The doctor opened the door to a private room surrounded by security. The bed was empty.
"Where is he?" Just as the words left his mouth; he saw it. A huge black wolf was asleep on the floor with a tranquilizer dart embedded in its side. "Bollocks." Mycroft murmured and stared in complete disbelief. Suddenly some of John's symptoms now made sense. The inhuman glow in his eyes. The complaints of something inside him trying to get out. Mycroft was at a loss as to what to do next.
"I highly suggest that you cage him and keep him sedated. For the short time that he was awake in this form Dr. Watson was aggressive and attempted to attack several of the staff. Luckily, we were able to sedate him quickly. I will need to draw more labs before I can even attempt to tell you more about this unexpected development." The physician advised.
"No cage, just keep him under." Mycroft said sharply. Sherlock would never forgive him if he put John in a cage even if he was now a wolf.
3 Days later
John screamed as his bones shifted and his body reformed itself to human. Even with sedation on board the pain was enough to break through it. Once the transformation was completed, John vomited. His nude body began to tremble in the cold room. Within two minutes, Mycroft and his nameless private physician entered the room. The doctor had a syringe in his hand which John was sure contained more sedatives. "Please no more drugs!" John begged in a voice hoarse from disuse. Mycroft held up a hand and the other doctor froze looking at him with questioning eyes.
"John, I sincerely regret being forced to sedate you, but if you can remember anything from the past 72 hours you should understand why it was necessary." Mycroft explained. John just stared in disbelief. The past 72 hours were almost completely blank save a few vague flashes during transformation. John suspected that that was more likely a result of the drugs than his altered "condition." John felt hot rage bubbling up inside him and it took every once of his self-control not to let it loose on both Mycroft and the doctor. The wolf was still close, right below the surface. Calm down John, he thought. Information is the most important thing right now. Play nice until you can get as much as possible.
John held Mycroft's gaze but stayed silent. As the silence stretched on John began to categorize his current physical and mental state with the limited information that he had. He senses were even more heighten then before the transformation. He was still restless but it was tolerable. The cause, which he now knew, was the wolf had been sated by its three days of freedom. While it was still just below the surface it was no longer fighting for control. John looked down at himself. His body showed no signs of the horrible trauma, which it had just been put through. In fact, He seemed to have grown taller and even more muscular. His genitals had also grown larger. His penis had increased significantly in both length and girth. His bollocks were heavy and full. In fact, heat was beginning to pool in his groin his penis grew even further, now half hard with arousal. Even though he was unsure of the cause, John wanted nothing more then to get off quickly but that wasn't going to happen with Mycroft and his physician staring at him like he was in a Petri dish. John shut his eyes tight and remembered all the horrible things that he had seen at Baskerville, which helped to slack his arousal quickly.
Mycroft was silent for a moment as if assessing how much to tell John. Once he seemed to make a decision he sighed deeply and began. "What is your name and place of birth? Where are you? What year is it?" John smirked at the questions.
"Capt. John H. Watson MD, London England, Holmes private estate, 2014." John Spat without patience. "Satisfied with my level of consciousness." John took a deep breath. In addition to everything else, he seemed to have developed quite the short fuse. As much as he loathed admitting it, he could understand Mycroft's misguided reasoning for all his actions. Before Mycroft could answer, John's stomach gave a loud roar and cramped with hunger. John tried to remember the last time he had eaten and couldn't because he had likely been sedated. God, John! Where is your modesty and civility he thought as remembered he was still completely nude. Just because you turned into animal doesn't mean that you always act like one. "I need some clothing." John added.
John sighed in satisfaction as he finished the huge meal. Mycroft had brought him clothing and told him that he stunk needed a shower and food. John couldn't deny it. John showered and dressed and a huge meal was waiting in his room when he came out which he quickly devoured. There was a note from Mycroft promising answers later. John wanted to go find him and get them now but a bone deep fatigue was quickly settling over him. He yawned and made his way to the bed. It almost felt strange to sleep naturally without the aid of sedatives. John drifted into a deep sleep filled with strange and mysterious dreams.
Mycroft paced back and forth along his private study. He was at a total loss as to what to do about Dr. Watson who was completely alert and oriented. He seemed to have regained his self-control after he transformed back to his human form. He was now asking questions. Lots of questions, to which, Mycroft was still trying to answer for himself. Sherlock currently being weaned off the sedatives as the physical changes appeared to be complete. Sherlock now had a fully formed pair of brilliant white wings, spanning nearly sixteen feet across. Judging from their size and span as well as the other alterations in Sherlock's body, he should now be capable of flight. Mycroft had never dealt with a situation like this. He had both John and Sherlock's best interests in mind but didn't know how to proceed. Mycroft was pulled from his thoughts by the doctor's voice over his intercom. "Sherlock is about to awaken. I am notifying you as requested."
Mycroft quickly made his way to Sherlock's room. Sherlock was just beginning to stir. "Sherlock relax. You're safe." Mycroft said softly as he approached his brother. Sherlock's eyes opened and he began scanning the room silently making observations. He sat up and his wings opened wide knocking over the IV pump beside him.
"What in God's name did those bloody bastards do to me?" Sherlock exclaimed as he curled his wings around himself in order to examine them more closely. "This must have been what was causing all of my back pain." Sherlock then began stripping off all of the monitoring equipment. "I'm leaving Mycroft. Where is John?"
"Are you mad? You can't just leave Sherlock; you have a huge pair of wings that need to be dealt with. You will be just a bit conspicuous walking through London proper with those." Mycroft hissed raking a hand through his hair in frustration. Sherlock scoffed.
"Mycroft I don't care. I know longer need or want your concern. Let me go on my own accord or I will make your life very difficult." Sherlock said in a dark angry tone. "You are no longer my brother. You are dead to me." Mycroft paled.
"Sherlock, you're just angry. You don't mean that." Mycroft said in a strained voice.
"Yes I do Mycroft. I want you out of my life completely." Before Mycroft could answer Sherlock stormed out of the room in search of John.
"Aren't you going to stop him?" The doctor inquired. Mycroft shook his head.
"As much as I hate letting him go, if I want any chance at fixing this I need to give him time and space to calm down." Mycroft said with a small sigh. "Allow Dr. Watson to leave as well if he so chooses. I would rather Sherlock not be alone."
Sherlock quickly made his way down the long hall corridor. "John!" he called. Sherlock had never been so livid with Mycroft. Just when he thought his brother had a shred of humanity in him, he was again proven wrong. Not like you to be so gullible. He thought.
"Sherlock?" John's voice called from down the next hall. Sherlock followed it.
He knocked on the door before entering and saw John alone in the room, which was surprising considering the security that Mycroft usually employed. John stared at him; more likely at his newly formed wings, in awe seemingly struck speechless. John was larger and taller, nearly Sherlock's height, and more muscular. He also had an underlying musky scent that was hard to describe, but which Sherlock found to be arousing. He shook his head quickly as if to rid it of the strange thought. Sherlock had never had any true sexual arousal in response anyone, which was mostly likely due to his stay in the institution as a teenager. He continued to look John over. The restlessness was now gone and John looked like he was calm and in control. "Bloody hell Sherlock." John said softly as he slowly approached as if afraid of scaring him away.
"They are just wings John. No reason to gawk like a five year old child." Sherlock said somewhat sullenly. John flushed bright red with obvious embarrassment.
"Sorry," He stammered. "Bit of a shock that it is."
"Understandable," Sherlock begrudgingly admitted. "I suggest we leave before Mycroft changes his mind and attempts to stop us."
"Letting us go? Just like that?" John asked in disbelief.
"Oh I had to practically threaten his life and I also happen to know where a number of his skeletons are buried." Sherlock murmured darkly anger shimmering in his eyes. "Best be off to Baker Street." Sherlock then rushed out of the estate, grabbing a large trench coat to cover his wings with John hot on his heels.
221 B Baker Street
"Sherlock did you happen to come across any medical records or speak to Mycroft regarding any information regarding the procedures that were performed on us in Baskerville?" John asked as he shifted through the kitchen dumping Sherlock's now ruined experiments into the rubbish bin.
"Irrelevant." Sherlock stated with certainty. John scowled in obvious disbelief but allowed him to continue uninterrupted. "Mycroft did not speak with me regarding specifics and I was unable to obtain access to any records. However, I was able to deduce that there was genetic splicing involved. We will know more once we draw our own samples." John sighed.
"This is bad Sherlock. How are we supposed to deal with this and try to correct it if we're going in blind?" John asked with a groan as opened an exceptionally foul smelling experiment. John tossed it quickly and opened a window. His new heightened senses were proving to be a nuisance at the moment. Luckily, Mrs. Hudson was on holiday for the month, which would give both of them some time to straighten things out by themselves. "Why don't we go through the physical and mental changes that both of us have gone through. Take inventory so to speak." John suggested.
"Dull, John." Sherlock drooled. John huffed in frustration. He didn't seem to have the same patience for Sherlock's demeanor as he used to.
"Humor me!" John snapped. "Sorry, been a bit edgy lately." Sherlock stared at him saying nothing for a moment. John could only imagine the thoughts and deductions that must by flying through his head.
"Very well." Sherlock conceded. "My symptoms include heightening of all five senses. I don't have x-rays to confirm it but I believe my lung capacity has increased and my bone density decreased most likely to facilitate flight. I have obviously developed wings." Sherlock stopped unsure of whether or not to mention the arousing effect John's scent had been having on him. Right now the scent was barely noticeable over the stench of the kitchen but once it had been cleaned John's natural smell would be noticeable. The arousal was manageable though and the admission seemed wrong somehow. Sherlock thought it better to omit that information. While John was an attractive man, Sherlock had never felt anything sexual towards him or anyone for that matter. "That is all I can tell you without further testing." Sherlock concluded.
"I have heightened senses as well. I've gown taller and more muscular and I seemed to have turned back the clock. I look and feel nearly half my age. While I look normal now, something disturbing happened to me and I think it will likely happen again. I transformed into a wolf. I can't tell you much because I was heavily sedated the whole time but I stayed that way for three days. I can still feel its presence inside me but it's calm now. I think it becomes restless right before a change and that's why I was ready to jump out of my skin before they separated us at the estate. I also have developed quite a short temper so you'll have to excuse me if I don't have the patience that I used to." John explained. Sherlock was silently staring at him looking very perplexed indeed as if John may be trying to put him on. "That's all I've got for now."
Wolf? Sherlock thought. How? Visions of bad horror cinema assaulted him. Somehow though Sherlock knew John spoke the truth. They would get to the bottom of it somehow. Sherlock thought back and the yellow tinge to John's eyes made sense now. Sherlock doubted very much that John had been changed into a werewolf in the traditional sense of the word. His genes had no doubt been spliced with that of a wolf. "We'll get to the bottom of this John. I have no doubt." Sherlock affirmed with certainty. John looked like he still had doubts but remained silent.
Greg Lestrade watched in shock as Mycroft Holmes stormed off the crime scene. Normally he never bothered to show up but this was a high-ranking official in the parliament. There were whispers of corruption and a mole set on international espionage. The case had Sherlock's name practically written all over it. Greg had the unfortunate thought to ask Mycroft if his brother would be consulting for the case. He had never seen Mycroft Holmes so angry. When Lestrade had brought up the subject of his brother, Mycroft's legendary control snapped. He had told Greg in no uncertain terms that Sherlock was no longer his concern and not to mention it again if he valued his career. Lestrade knew when to let something go and the subject had been dropped. Lestrade still wasn't giving up. He would find out what had become of Sherlock and John even without Mycroft's help but he had to be certain not to gain Mycroft's attention while making inquiries.
Mycroft Holmes was even more of a mystery to Greg than Sherlock. While Sherlock's oddball behavior could be explained somewhat by his mad genius, Mycroft was another story. Greg had no doubt that Mycroft's intelligence was nearly equal to that of his brother. What Mycroft lacked was Sherlock's deducing powers. While not as striking as his brother, Mycroft was still an attractive man. He was not nearly as lithe and slightly shorter than his brother but he had strikingly blue eyes, auburn hair, a strong jaw, as well as an air of authority that could bring even the toughest individual to their knees. Greg had been fighting his increasing attraction to the elder Holmes brother since he met him years ago. Lestrade had discreetly inquired about Mycroft's romantic life but came up empty. If Mycroft dated, he kept it quiet. Both he and Sherlock were never seen publicly dating anyone.
Lestrade shook his head and turned to look over the forensics. Apparently he would be on his own in this case. On a whim he pulled out his phone and rung Sherlock. "What?" Sherlock snapped over the line taking Greg by surprise who had not been expecting him to actually answer.
"Sherlock?" Greg asked in a shocked voice.
"Whom did you think you were calling Lestrade?" Sherlock answered in a condescending tone. Greg was too shocked to answer for moment but recovered quickly before Sherlock could hand up on him.
"I wanted to know what was going on with you and your brother and why you are no longer taking cases." Greg said deciding that the direct approach was the best way to go.
Sherlock sighed dramatically before answering. "My brother is a colossal git. Our personal differences are not your concern and neither are my reasons for halting my consulting services. It appears that you will have to earn your pay detective inspector." Sherlock said in a strained voice. Lestrade could tell there was a major story behind those words but he also knew when he had hit a dead end.
"What about John?" Lestrade asked attempting a change of subject. Sherlock huffed.
"You will have to speak with John personally if you want further information." Sherlock answered sounding quite stressed.
"Sherlock are you in trouble? Do you need help?" Greg asked as his concern increased. Rather than answer Sherlock simply hung up leaving Greg to worry. That settled it. Greg was definitely going to have to do some serious digging.
"I'm going to the office to research. I'll look over the reports there." Greg announced as he made his way back to Scotland Yard.
Once Greg was back in the office he began his search determined to get to the bottom of things.
It had been three weeks since returning to Baker Street with John. Both Sherlock and John were attempting to adapt to the physical and mental changes, which were forced upon them at Baskerville. Sherlock looked around the empty flat. John had been picking up shifts at the A & E as well as at the surgery claiming that he needed the distraction. John had gone out after completing his shift at St. Bart's refusing to allow Sherlock to go with him. Sherlock surmised that he was most likely getting drunk. Sherlock sneered at the thought. While John had indulged in an occasional drink before Baskerville, he had never overindulged to the point of drunkenness, which was most likely due to the alcoholism that ran rampant through his family. John was going to have to learn a more appropriate coping mechanism. He claimed that alcohol helped calm him and the wolf. John had been drinking more and more as the full moon grew closer. With John's increased strength, speed and military training it was truly dangerous for him to drink in excess. When Sherlock had attempted to point this out to him, John had flushed with guilt, which quickly morphed into anger and frustration. John claimed that Sherlock didn't understand, as if Sherlock had not been dealing with the aftermath of Baskerville as well.
Sherlock unfurled his wings in frustration and stretched them out to their full 16-foot span. The urge to fly was becoming harder to ignore. Other changes were manifesting themselves as well. While Sherlock didn't have something fighting for control every day like John, but his body was controlling him in other ways. Sherlock was becoming more attracted to John. He also developed a healthy sex drive for the first time in his life. He had been reduced to masturbation. Whenever he attempted to abstain from the disgraceful activity; his body took matters into its own hands. He would dream about John and himself in the throws of passion and would wake up covered in his own semen. He was suffering from nocturnal emissions, as if he were a bloody hormone ridden teenager. Sherlock had tried to understand the logic of the increasing attraction to John from a biological standpoint but came up empty. They were both male; and if offspring were the biological goal that shouldn't be possible. Perhaps Sherlock was an even bigger freak than he had thought and could add homosexuality to his list of oddities.
Sherlock shook his head. Soon they would have to face reality. Staying in Baker Street in their current states was impractical and reckless. They needed to be somewhere less populated yet secure. Sherlock was pulled from his thoughts as a text from his phone came through. Sherlock picked it up and glanced at it. Call your brother-Lestrade. Sherlock ignored it with a snort. He still refused to speak to Mycroft. Although he had little doubt that his brother was keeping close tabs on both John and himself, which was another valid reason to relocate somewhere isolated away from his prying eyes. Visions of the French countryside quickly came to mind. There were areas in France that were still rural and sparsely populated. Moving out of England would also make it much more difficult for Mycroft to spy on both of them. Convincing John may prove difficult however. Sherlock sighed. John's change was coming quickly. The full moon was less than a week away. They needed to make a plan so that he would not be danger to himself or others. Sherlock put on his trench coat to cover his wings and went in search of the doctor before he drank himself into oblivion.
"Another round." John called to the bartender who nodded in acknowledgement, but was currently taking another order. The pub was busy and service was slow. It would have been quicker to drink at home but not necessarily easier. Sherlock disapproved and would give him hell for it. The sad part was John knew that he was right. Drinking was the last thing that he should be doing but it was the only thing besides sedatives that would keep the damn wolf quiet. He expended so much energy trying to control it lately as the full moon drew nearer during work that he was exhausted by the time he got off. He just wanted peace and drinking was a quick and easy way to get it.
"John come with me back to the flat we need to talk." Sherlock said as he strode through the pub entrance and sat down besides John. John frowned but said nothing as he finished his drink trying unsuccessfully to get the bartenders attention. Sherlock touched his shoulder giving him a gentle nudge towards the exit. John stiffened and ignored him snapping his fingers at the bartender. "John this behavior is idiotic, it is time to go home."
"Leave me alone Sherlock." John warned in a low voice that sounded more like a growl. The wolf was close. John closed his eyes and fought for control. He was so tired of fighting to control it. He just wanted to sleep. John often dreaded what would happen if he just stopped and let the wolf have it. Would he transform outside of the full moon or would he stay human but become feral and violent? He wanted to scream in frustration. As if sensing his mounting tension, Sherlock backed away slightly giving him some room.
"John, Please, you shouldn't stay here it's not safe." Sherlock said softly. John didn't know whether to laugh or cry. He felt like a ball of nerves that just couldn't unwind. "You can have a drink at home it you wish just come with me now." Sherlock implored. John didn't know whether the offer was sincere or simply a false bribe to get him to leave but John was beyond caring at this point barely in control he followed Sherlock as he hailed a cab back to Baker Street.
Sherlock watched as John grabbed the whiskey bottle and poured himself a drink that he downed in one quick gulp. "John wait!" Sherlock said as John poured himself another. "Give it a minute. Breathe and try to relax before you have another." Sherlock said softly careful to keep the tension out of his voice. "I really do have to talk to you." John seemed to take his advice. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"What is it Sherlock?" John asked in a voice that was still far from steady.
"The full moon is coming." Sherlock stated and John just winced in response taking a sip from his second drink.
"Sherlock I thought you were above stating the obvious." John replied attempting for levity, which clearly fell flat.
"We need a plan John. You will most likely go through another transformation and we need to be prepared. I need your input on what you think would be the safest way to get through the full moon." Sherlock stated looking to John.
John looked lost. He simply looked down at his drink and sighed. "Sedate me," Hw whispered in a hoarse voice. Sherlock frowned deeply.
"But John I thought you didn't want to be sedated." Sherlock asked in confusion.
"I don't but the only other alternative is took restrain or cage me somehow and I think that would be much more traumatic than sedation." John explained in a sad voice.
"How do you know?" Sherlock asked. John frowned in obvious confusion. "I mean you were sedated throughout the entire transformation the first time. Do you recall whether you retained human thoughts or memories or whether you could exert any control over the wolf while you were in that form?" Sherlock explained.
"Are you suggesting that we do nothing and see how it goes once I transform?" John asked in obvious shock. "Do you have a death wish?"
"I am merely suggesting that if we have a secure location, sedation may not be necessary and by that I do not mean a cage. I must concur that a cage would be cruel and cause both you and the wolf undue stress." Sherlock said quickly attempting to further explain himself before John became more agitated and resorted to drinking again.
"Ok Sherlock, I'll bite." John said with a smirk as the irony of the words dawned on him. "Just where were you planning on keeping me "secure" during the three day transformation without sedation?"
"London Zoo." Sherlock said.
"Are you mad?" John asked. "You realize that it is opened to the public! Not to mention the fact that I would be caged. Granted it would be large and more of an enclosure, but still a cage. Oh, and don't forget about the other wild animals which I would be sharing it with! This has to be by far the dumbest idea that you have ever come with."
"Think about it John, we break in at dusk right after closing the first night of the full moon. We choose the safest enclosure for you to transform in and allow it to happen without sedatives. You will remain in wolf form for three days during the full moon and will go unnoticed by the public during the day because they will assume you are just an ordinary wolf. When you transform back to human, we will leave in the same manner that we came." Sherlock quickly clarified. John stared in blatant disbelief.
"I can't believe you are advocating this!" John yelled pouring himself another drink.
"Do you have a better alternative John?" Sherlock asked. "Should be continue to drug you into oblivion once a month? Eventually you will develop a tolerance and more than likely an addiction, although you seem to be well on your way to becoming a full blown alcoholic like your sister." John was furious with both himself and Sherlock. He was truly at a loss.
"You want me to go along with this outrageous plan? Fine. What have I got to lose?" John said sadly. His nerves were completely shot. He finished his drink with a deep sigh.
John watched as the full moon rose and braced for the transformation. He had just eaten a large meal at Sherlock's insistence and against his better judgment about an hour ago. "John, I would rather you have a full stomach so that you do not transform into a ravenous wolf but rather a satiated one." Sherlock had claimed as John had eaten the exceptionally large meal. John could see the logic but just hoped he wouldn't end up vomiting everything up during his transformation. He looked around the enclosure. The other three wolves were huddled in the corner almost as if they could sense what was about to take place. Surprisingly, the wolves didn't concern John. His wolf was coming to the surface and it was Alpha. Even if he retained no awareness or control, his wolf would keep both of them alive. The pain shot through him and he screamed as this body reshaped itself and he blacked out.
Sherlock watched John closely from the roof of the enclosure. This was the first time that Sherlock had witnessed John's transformation. The sight was truly horrific. Sherlock could hear the bones snap and hear John's screams that turned to whines and finally silence once he lost consciousness. It was then that Sherlock got his first glimpse of John's wolf. Solid black, pure muscle and nearly twice as large as the natural wolves, which were still huddled in the corner in the enclosure, obviously terrified of the John's wolf. Sherlock spread his wings and flew towards John. He hovered about ten feet above him keeping a safe distance. "John." He called softly. There was no response. Sherlock flew back up to his perch on the roof to keep a silent vigil.
The wolf awoke to a cacophony of sounds and smells. It began exploring its surroundings. There were three wolves huddled together in the farthest corner from it. All three were displaying submissive body language. John's wolf ignored them since they showed no obvious threat. It scented the air sensing something vaguely familiar. The scent that came from upwind was one that the wolf knew yet could not place. The large golden eyes scanned the area for the source if the strange and alluring smell. The wolf settled on the form perched on the roof. The winged human looked directly at him and asked. "Do you recognize me John? Are you still aware?"
The wolf continued to stare at Sherlock making no obvious acknowledgement of understanding. Sherlock debated the safety of coming closer at this point. While the wolf was not acting vicious that could change in an instant if it perceived a threat. The wolf did seem interested in him as it continued to scent the air and stare at him. There was no fear or aggression in its demeanor merely curiosity. Making a decision that he hoped he would not live to regret, Sherlock flew down to more closely examine the wolf that John Watson had become.
Sherlock landed in the enclosure about ten feet from John's wolf. He kneeled down and kept his eyes down to show his submission in the hopes that the wolf would not see him a threat. It was obviously not completely feral or it would have attacked the other natural wolves that were cowering submissively in the corner of the enclosure. The wolf began to slowly approach him still scenting. Sherlock was faced with decision of backing up or standing his ground. "John I am not going to hurt you. I am not a threat." Sherlock said in a low calm voice. He stayed perfectly still to avoid startling the wolf.
The wolf was soon upon him. Sherlock avoided eye contact as the huge muzzle sniffed his hair and face. The wolf continued to scent moving over Sherlock's body it moved down his chest to his stomach. It then nudged its muzzle between his thighs and scented his groin deeply. "John must you act in such a stereotypical manner? What is it with canines and crotches?" Sherlock asked softly trying to carefully inch away from John who was still sniffing his genitals through his trousers enthusiastically. John followed him as he attempted to inch away. The wolf began to tug at the fabric of his trousers the seam split easily and Sherlock could hardly believe that those razor sharp canines were millimeters from his genitals. Sherlock let out a very uncouth yelp and reared back as the cold nose slipped through the front of his boxers to touch his penis and bollocks. "John Stop!" Sherlock said firmly and unfurled his wings, which had been tightly folded preparing to flee. To Sherlock's surprise, the wolf pulled away but continued staring intently at him. "Can you understand me John?" Sherlock asked as he finally met the wolf's golden stare briefly, quickly looking down. The wolf growled softly but quieted when Sherlock averted his eyes. The wolf approached Sherlock quickly lifting his leg and urinating on him before he could move away. Sherlock unfurled his wings and flew about twenty feet above John. "John that was disgusting and uncalled for!"
The wolf watched anxiously as the winged human hovered above him just out of reach. It smelled good. Mine. Mate. The wolf was gratified that at least it had been able to mark the human. The wolf had also had an opportunity to memorize the winged humans scent and would be able to track it over very long distances. John's wolf watched the winged human fly away. Its howl filled the air Sherlock disappeared from sight. Sherlock glanced back at John's wolf in disbelief unsure what to make of the entire bizarre episode. Sherlock flew back to Baker Street to shower then he would visit the zoo in the morning to check on John.