Safe to Say
Sherlock cut the deer carcass into pieces with precision that any doctor would be proud of. The thought of doctors brought about the thought of John. He was quite lonely (he had tried to convince himself that he was just bored, and had failed) without his flat mate for company. That was one of the disadvantages of hiding in the forest: no one else was there, save for animals. Birds and deer would visit. The deer didn't live long when they did. Sherlock had grown to enjoy talking with the wolves that stopped by now and then. He would feed them and talk to them for a while, and then they would leave.
Today a blonde wolf was making his way toward the hut that was now Sherlock's home. Sherlock, observant as ever, saw him and grabbed a few pieces of meat, making his way to the door that led outside. He stood there in the door frame for a while, letting it see him and get used to his scent before speaking.
"Hello," Sherlock said, tossing a piece of meat toward the creature. The wolf licked its lips and rand to the food, devouring it and looking to Sherlock expectantly. The man held a slice out. "Come get it. Don't be shy. There's no point in that." And so the wolf went and got it, eating out of Sherlock's hand. That same hand stroked its fur. "You may come inside for more." The wolf followed him in, and Sherlock made sure to keep the door propped open in case it decided to leave.
They made it to the kitchen area, where the deer meat lay piled on a makeshift counter. Sherlock grabbed a couple slices and set them on the floor, taking a seat on the ground. He watched the animal eat and expected it to go as the others did. It didn't, instead opting to lay with his head in Sherlock's lap.
"You've lost your pact, haven't you?" Wolves with packs waiting for them left sooner, most didn't even come inside. It made a noise as if to give him positive answer. "I've lost someone too." He began to stroke the creature's fur. "He was kind, my flat mate. He was my best friend."
The animal whined, looking up as if it wanted details. "His name was John Watson. The only way to save him was to go away. I didn't want to leave him." He pulled an arm over the wolf. "It's safe to say I loved him."
The wolf nuzzled into Sherlock's stomach, not moving from its place in the man's lap. He didn't want to move away from him. He had to stay close. Sherlock pet him, glad that the creature seemed to be so friendly. He liked the company.
"He was short, and he was getting a couple of grey hairs, but he had pretty eyes." Sherlock gave a sad smile as he looked down at the creature seeing the familiar blue of his eyes. "They were a lot like yours, really." He leaned back and closed his eyes. "Don't let me bore you with this."
While he looked at the inside of his eyelids, there was a shift in his lap. He looked down and his heart stopped beating for a moment.
In his lap was John.
Sherlock did a mental check of all the possible explanations. Drugs had been out of his system for months. He'd had no alcohol, not even contaminated water. This was real.
"I can explain. I'm not what I said. Sherlock. . ." He trailed off, too nervous to speak to him.
Sherlock took a breath. "Fascinating." Sherlock had no choice but to believe this. He had seen it, and his eyes were all he had. His mind kept trying for another explanation, but he had eliminated the impossible, and he was left with this as the truth. He pulled John close.
"You left. I . . . I went back to the woods. My pack didn't want me back."
Sherlock stroked his hair. "I thought you were dead. The papers said you were gone, that they never found your body." Sherlock had been in town for a short while after his fall. John had disappeared just before he left.
"I've missed you. Three years, Sherlock." It was hard for him not to go back to his canine form. Being human took a discipline that he didn't have any more. Sherlock could see this struggle.
"You can change if it's easier for you. I don't mind."
He nodded. "Sherlock, did you mean it when you said—?" He was cut off by a pain in his spine and his words turned to a howl. He wished that he was able to control himself better. There was so much that he wanted to ask, so much that he had to tell him. He knew Sherlock said he didn't have to explain, but he had to. He had to tell him what was going on, that he was still him. He had to let Sherlock know that this didn't change anything. He was filled with an awful worry—what if Sherlock didn't want him because of this?
Sherlock knew what he meant. "It is still very safe to say t hat I love you, John. I don't care if you aren't quite human. That means nothing to me." He stroked John's fur, and they lay there, and they talked (rather, Sherlock talked and John listened intently) and both decided that it was safe to say this was love.
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Thank you!
Alright, so I realized that wolf!lock is really hard to find, or at least it has been for me, so I decided to make some on my own. The world can always use some more AU, right? But anyway, I hope you liked this and I hope you found at least a bit entertaining. First wolf!lock fic, but I think I did a decent job.