Hello lovely readers; thought I'd disappeared didn't you! Well, I thought I would get some works out there before I go for my long holiday; so here is a story or two for you.
I'm afraid that this is rather a ridiculous story; full of fantasy and romance. However, I hope some of you will still enjoy it.
As usual, I own nothing and no one, and have simply borrowed the characters from BBC Sherlock.
The Gift
The Human gifts were vastly expansive. New gifts were discovered on an almost daily basis; whether it was a subtle gift such as perpetual beauty or continual good luck. They could also take a physical form, i.e. external limbs or extremely long tongues. Every member of the Human Race had at least one gift. It was the way it had always been and it made life all the more exciting to explore.
Doctor John H. Watson, military man to the core, was gifted with a healing power. Advanced in level, the man would only have to place his hands on any suffering person or animal to heal their pains and illnesses.
John kept his gift as quiet as he could; qualifying as a doctor to better hide it. If it was widely known that his rare gift was so powerful; he would probably be enlisted in the Army for longer than he was. Saving countless lives on a daily basis, the Doctor wore himself out a little; his energy levels reaching a new low led to him not moving quick enough out of a bullets' direct route. He got shot.
Obviously, the soldier could heal himself, had healed himself, before he had been sent home. But the psychosomatic limp was hard to explain away.
Meeting Sherlock Holmes was both an exciting and terrifying event for the General Practitioner.
Watching his flatmate closely after living together for just over a month, John was slightly distressed that he had not managed to spot the genius' gift. The ability to 'read people' was a rare gift yet the man in question seemed able to do it. If it was his gift, he waved it around far too easily; like it was air. This got him employed by the Metropolitan Police and general members of the public, not to mention very large and well-to-do companies and organisations.
"You look as if you are going to eat me, John" Sherlock mused with a straight face and a raised eyebrow. His fingers were delicately steepled below his nose and his eyes were steel coloured not to mention piercing as he watched the Doctor from his armchair.
John shifted awkwardly at being caught and leaned his head on his left hand – his elbow on the armrest of his own armchair.
"What is your gift?" The Doctor asked unabashedly, making a conscious effort to hide all curiosity and eagerness.
"That is a very personal question, Doctor" Sherlock continued, his other eyebrow joining the first, high above its' natural resting place.
"We work and live together" John said with a shrug of his shoulders.
Sherlock lowered his hands to cup the ends of his armchair. "So, that gives you the right to know everything about me?" he questioned interestedly, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes.
"I'm your friend" John justified quickly.
"You are my only friend, John, but I am still surprised by your forwardness" Sherlock murmured quietly; his face remaining stony in response.
"You already know my gift" The Doctor continued, looking away at the detectives' admission.
"Yes, the fact that you are a Doctor made it pretty obvious" Sherlock retorted with a smirk.
"To you, maybe" John replied quietly.
"Anyway, you already know" Sherlock said gently, looking away from the soldier and toward the fireplace.
"I already know what?" John asked with a furrowed brow.
"I can read people" Sherlock continued.
"Do you only have one gift?" John asked hastily before his lost his nerve, his eagerness clearly visible now.
Sherlock didn't reply, but instead steepled his fingers once more in front of him and smiled toward the Doctor before closing his eyes and disappearing in thought.
John watched the consulting detective for a further hour before deciding the man was not going to divulge the information he so desired to learn.
To the Doctor's surprise, he felt hurt at his friends' secrets remaining hidden from him. He had hoped they were close enough to talk about things of this nature.
Perhaps he was wrong.
*/*
It was a cold evening in early September when the Doctor walked tiredly across the pavement toward the door of 221B Baker Street, tired out from a day at the clinic, dealing with numerous flu cases and sniffles.
The flat was cold and quiet. John climbed the stairs wearily, desperate for a cup of warm tea.
"Sherlock" John moaned tiredly as he spotted the living room windows as far open as they could be. Walking toward them, the doctor closed one before the other, looking down on the street and passers by.
Before long, John turned on his heel and approached the kitchen. Making a full pot of his favourite tea, the Doctor turned on the TV and placed the pot and cup on the coffee table beside his usual armchair.
He was on his second cup before his phone chimed loudly from his pocket, indicating a new message.
'Will be late, have eaten biscuit, look after the cat its' evidence. – SH'
John laughed. His flatmates' consideration levels were improving constantly; he'd give Sherlock that, but as for a cat being evidence…well, he didn't want to know why.
As if on que; a miaow reached the Doctors' ears. Looking down interestedly, John spotted a thin black cat with white feet sitting by his shoes and swishing its' tail elegantly.
"Hello" John greeted it at once, putting down his cup and leaning over to stroke its' short haired head. "Whats' your name then?" He continued, watching the cat tilt its' head to the side to better view him with its' wide grey / yellow eyes. "Wow, you have lovely eyes" The soldier said leaning down further to get a better view.
Without warning, the cat pounced, suddenly perching on the arm of John's chair beside him.
"Spry thing, aren't you?" John said with a laugh. It was then, that he noticed a wound; an angry red gash across the cats' breast, hard to spot in amongst the black fur.
"Want a cuddle?" John asked, indicating his lap. The cat stared at him with its' wide eyes for an uncomfortable moment before raising a hesitant paw toward him. "Come here, then" John said gently, picking the cat up and putting it on his thighs, stroking its fur in a familiar way.
For a moment, the cat stiffened; tail on end and paws balancing itself precariously, however, at the doctors' touch, it began to relax, laying down fully, but not taking its eyes from John's face.
Taking his hands away from the animal, John began to rub them together, watching the usual sparking of his gift being brought into use. Gently, he separated his – now lightly glowing – hands and pressed them both to the cat's back. Within an instant, the wound healed, leaving a faint scar through the fur. John smiled.
"Better?" He asked lightly, returning to his stroking of the cats' fur reassuringly.
Feeling overwhelmingly tired as he had just used the last of his energy, it was not long before John had fallen asleep, his warm hand stationary on the skinny cat in his lap.
John woke several hours later, his lap cold and the TV still blaring. Stretching awkwardly, the Soldier realised that it was getting on for 2am. Once on his feet, John shifted quietly through the flat. Upon entering the last empty room of 221B; he surmised that the detective was not home and the cat had vanished.
Picking up his phone, he sent a text to his flatmate and yawned simultaneously.
'Everything go ok with the cat? You should have woken me when you got back. – JW'
The doctor did not have to wait long for a reply.
'Cat may be staying with us for a while. Case solved, on way home. With cat – SH'
John smiled, he always wanted a cat.
'What is its name? – JW' He replied.
'Doesn't have a name – SH'
John smiled. He would have to name the new addition to 221B as soon as he saw him again.
'How far away are you? – JW'
'Essex – SH'
John sighed, he couldn't wait up that long, he would have to go to bed soon for work to go seamlessly at the clinic the following day.
'I'll say good night then. Look after our cat, we'll name him tomorrow – JW' John replied as he walked up his stairs and into his room.
*/*
John rarely saw his new cat. Sherlock had told him that he was an outside cat and would only be by when he was hungry or cold. Therefore, it was a week before the doctor saw him again.
Sherlock was out for the evening, another case with DI Lestrade, however, sitting on the hearth rug in front of the cold fireplace lay the small black blob of fur. John smiled widely and approached straight away.
"Hello, where have you been?" He asked lightly, sitting beside the cat and giving him a welcome stroke. "You must be hungry" he said aloud as he noticed the cat's almost emaciated frame.
The cat meowed loudly as John got up to move toward the kitchen for the cat food he had previously purchased. Stopping still, John looked down at the cat questioningly.
"What's wrong?" the doctor asked, sitting down on the rug once more, recognising that the sound was one of distress rather than conversation.
John watched as the cat rolled sideways and displayed a grossly disfigured broken leg.
"My God!" John exclaimed, now noticing the blood smears across the living room floorboard and rug. Without a moment's hesitation, the doctor healed the cat and picked it up, examining it's – now straight and healed – leg, he also caught sight of something else; "Well, at least we now know you're a boy" John chuckled as he looked toward the cats face.
"How did that leg happen, umm?" John asked gently, placing the cat against his shoulder and chest as though it were a Human Child needing consoled.
The cat stayed put and allowed John to stroke him, turning his head to lay it against the warm wool of John's jumper and look up at him.
"That must have been agony. Some milk and food required pronto" He said gently, walking toward the kitchen to one handed-ly prepare the cats' meal.
Knowing it was bad practice but not having the heart to make the cat eat from the floor; John placed the food and milk trays in the middle of the kitchen table and sat down on one of its' chairs. Gently, John lay the cat on the surface of the table and watched it sniff at the food dubiously.
"How come food is such an issue with you too?" John exclaimed. "Perhaps I should call you Sherlock after my flatmate. He's a bit like you, don't you think?" the Doctor continued, watching the cat look up at him with wide eyes.
Deciding once again that the consulting detective was going to be too late home, John cleaned out the bowls and placed them beside the fridge, refilled, before heading upstairs to his own bed.
It was certainly a surprise to John that his new cat followed him quietly, sitting on the threshold of his room and watching him with hawk-like eyes as though awaiting permission to enter the room.
"You staying the night then?" John asked as he removed his jeans and jumper, getting in to bed clad in an old grey t-shirt and black boxers. "Come on, you can sleep up here if you want" John said tiredly, punctuating his sentence with a yawn.
The cat appeared on John's bed without a second invitation, laying on the Doctors' duvet-clad feet; he curled up and turned his head toward the open door.
"You going to protect me?" John asked, watching the animal curiously. He smiled as he saw the cat's ears twitch, one facing the window, the other seeking John's voice. "Definitely, Sherlock" John mused, entertained by the cats' instant reaction to the name as he turned to look at the Doctor.
*/*
Waking up, John saw that the cat had once more disappeared.
Sighing sadly, John got up, donned his dressing gown and shuffled down the stairs, he could hear Sherlock whisking around the kitchen and felt a sense of ease at the sound.
"Morning" John greeted the detective happily.
"You slept well" Sherlock observed without looking up from his Petri-dishes.
"I did thank you. And you?" John asked lightly, already knowing the answer.
"Didn't sleep" Sherlock replied predictably.
"That Cat, where did you get him?" John asked, busying himself making tea.
"Belonged to a victim. Why?" Sherlock said quietly, changing the slide under the microscope.
"He keeps getting himself injured. He had a broken leg last night, not just broken…but irreversibly damaged" John explained, turning his back to the kitchen bunker to lean against it and look toward the detective.
"It's a good job you are a healer then" Sherlock mused dully without looking up.
Deciding not to continue the conversation further, John drank his tea and got ready for work.
Without a second thought, John cupped the back of Sherlock's neck as he stood beside him. "Take care today. Remember I'm only a text away" John said gently before dropping a light peck to the detective's temple and walking out the living room door.
Stopping on the other side of the door, John realised with a hand to his mouth what he had just done. Smiling amusedly, John shrugged to himself before trotting down the stairs and out into the street. Behind him, Sherlock stared at the closed door incredulously, raising a hand to his temple where moments before, John's lips had been.
*/*
The following morning, John was surprised when he woke up with a cat in his bed, nestled between his arms causing a cosy and strangely pleasant feeling for the Doctor.
"Morning, Sher" John murmured as he rubbed his nose against the cats' warm fur sleepily. He received a soft meow for his efforts and smiled warmly at its wide light eyes.
"No injuries today I hope?" John asked, shifting the cat round in his arms and tickling it's belly when he found none.
The cat miaowed loudly and wriggled beneath the doctor's touch but made no attempt to jump from the bed.
John stroked him idly after they had finished playing and the cat sat up to affectionately lick the doctor's nose.
It became a nightly ritual, John surmised that the cat was getting fond of him as he would appear at some point during the night and cuddle into the soldier until morning. John didn't mind this, in fact, he loved it. He had finally gotten a friendly and rather obedient pet.
It wasn't until a rather terrifying nights' events in December that everything suddenly became crystal clear.
They had now been running, for what felt like hours, desperately trying and failing to catch the two large built and dangerous men they were following.
Once or twice they had looped the Detective and the Doctor into a trap, luckily, Sherlock was on to them and had pulled John's revolver from the back of the soldier's trouser waistband to fire after them.
John had never been witness to something so seductive in his life. The consulting detective had pinned the doctor to the cold stone wall of an alley and reached into his coat. Their steamed breaths mingled in the cold nights' air as the taller man retrieved the gun, his left hand remaining solidly on the soldiers' chest to keep him in place.
Upon feeling John's breath hitch under his hand, Sherlock locked eyes with John whilst his right hand lifted to take aim, he barely glanced toward the two targets as he fired.
Both heard the distinct cry of pain rip through the dark alleyway and knew the slower of the two men had been injured, but not badly so. Sherlock smirked as he held John's gaze. The doctor didn't hide the awe clearly written in every line of his face, instead, he lay a hand on Sherlock's and leaned forward a little. John closed his eyes as his lips met Sherlock's in a soft and chaste kiss just as small droplets of rain began to fall between the two buildings.
Breaking apart, the two looked at each other in mild shock.
"Sorry, John…your gun" Sherlock said hesitantly.
"No, thank-thank you" John stammered as he took the gun back without breaking eye contact with the younger man.
It was when they shared a silent smile that John heard the shot. It ripped through the air violently and the doctor felt the detectives' hand clench into the material of his jumper as Sherlock stumbled. Acting quickly, John raised his gun and took aim at the wounded mans' chest - only just visible in the darkness. John shot him dead in less than his average speed.
Turning back to Sherlock now, John was alarmed to see that the detective had disappeared. Looking down at the ground, John saw that Sherlock's clothes were lying empty on the dark and wet cobbled alley floor.
"Sherlock?" John asked in shock, his eyes wide as he searched the area wildly.
Crouching down beside the dark tailored suit, purple shirt, long town coat and scarf, John noticed a movement from underneath the material. Moving the clothing aside gently, a small furry face popped out of the shirt collar. John stared in shock at the familiar yellowy grey eyes, black fur and small nose.
"Sherlock?" John whispered as the cat dragged itself out from between the clothes.
John fell back against the wall in shock as he looked at the small cat, allowing the breath he was holding to puff out of his mouth in one as the realisation sunk in.
"A shape changer, a bloody serial-gifter" John said with a laugh, it was a laugh that was cut short when Sherlock meowed loudly and dragged himself further toward the Doctor with considerable effort.
Seeing the nasty abdominal wound, John set about healing his flatmate immediately. Watching worriedly as the eyes of the cat closed in a wince as his warm hands came into contact with its fur.
Once healed, John carefully lifted him and held him at arms length to study his face.
"You, have some explaining to do" John said lightly as he pulled the cat close and held him securely with one arm, leaning forward to pick up the clothes on the ground with his other hand.
"Oh, Sherlock" John said quietly as the cat began to shiver. Wrapping him in his own very large coat, John stroked his forehead soothingly. "Why didn't you tell me" the soldier murmured, receiving what could only be called a 'death stare' for his troubles.
The doctor sighed, using his phone to call Lestrade as he began walking out of the alley and into the dark road.
"Hi Greg, yes, one got away. The other is dead." John said tiredly.
"Thanks, John. I'll send a team out straight away" Greg replied down the crackly line. "Where are you?" the DI continued.
"An alleyway, not sure where, to be honest, been running for miles" John said with a light laugh into the receiver.
"Is Sherlock with you?" Lestrade asked.
"Sherlock, well, he ran off, and I'm not entirely sure where to" John lied vaguely, waving an arm up for a taxi. "But, I'm going to head back to Baker Street" John finished when a taxi slowed to a halt beside him.
"Ok, thanks John. I'll call Sherlock" Lestrade replied.
"Ok, Greg, thanks now" John said hastily pressing the end call button on his phone before wrestling with the taxi door.
*/*
"Sherlock, you're going to have to change back soon" John pleaded as he watched the cat sit on the hearth rug and stare vacantly at the fireplace.
"I'm going to pour a bath and put you in it, regardless of what you are when I do it" John said threateningly.
After receiving no reply, John stormed through to the bathroom and turned on the bath taps, even ensuring the temperature was just right before adding bath crème.
"Alright John, you win" Came a deep voice from the bathroom doorway. John turned on the spot to see Sherlock with a towel draped around his waist, but that wasn't what made the doctor falter.
The scar across the consulting detectives' bare chest was large and familiar. The first wound John had healed for the black and white cat.
Walking toward Sherlock, John gingerly raised a hand to the younger mans' chest and felt the silvery skin from one end to the other, smiling as the detective shivered under his warm touch.
"Why didn't you tell me, Sherlock" John asked quietly, looking to the gun shot wound on the taller mans' abdomen he had received earlier that very night.
"It was easier to ask for help as a cat" Sherlock murmured over the sound of the bath taps.
"How did you survive before I met you? You've been hurt so much in the last six months" John said incredulously, his jaw clenched as Sherlock watched the doctor closely.
"Line of work." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, I am giving up the surgery and working 24/7 with you, I can't sit and wonder if you'd manage to make it home, cat or human" John said gravely, looking up at Sherlock through a determined mask.
"You would do that?" Sherlock asked with narrowed eyes.
"To keep you safe, yes" John replied, rolling his shoulders back in a soldier like style.
Sherlock looked toward the bath water, unable to keep eye contact with the shorter man and his honesty.
John, following the detectives' gaze leaned over to turn off the taps and feel the temperature of the water.
"Now, no more of that. Enjoy your bath, call me if you need me" John said with a smile as he stood up to face his flatmate.
"Thank you" Sherlock murmured quietly, but John picked up the rare grateful tone and realised the man was thanking him for more than just the bath.
"Your welcome, Sherlock" John said lightly, cupping the taller mans' shoulder as he went to leave the room.
"John" Sherlock called abruptly just as John had closed the door. John took a step back into the bathroom in time to see the towel now covering a black and white, rather sheepish looking cat. The Doctor smiled.
"Cats don't like baths" John stated flatly.
Sherlock ran toward him and looked up at him before rubbing against the doctor's leg.
"You do realise that this is just a little weird now? Knowing that I've slept with you and…" John blushed as he bent down to pick up his flatmate in feline form. "…saw you doing the toilet…" the doctor continued with disgust as he gently hovered the cat over the bubbles in the bath "…I let you sleep on my lap…" John continued as he made sure the water wasn't going to scald him. "…I've even seen your private parts…" John remembered with wide eyes as he lowered Sherlock into the water carefully.
He couldn't help but chuckle as Sherlock looked up at him with wide eyes, his limbs twitching at the heat of the water.
"My god, I'm bathing my flatmate" John said with a furrowed brow as he let go of the scrawny cat and watched as Sherlock disappeared into the bubbles before re-emerging with flat ears and fur. He looked adorable.
"So, can you talk when you're like this?" John asked curiously, chuckling when Sherlock let out a strange meow.
"Guess not" John replied dully. "But, Sherlock, seriously, you need washed – in human form" The Doctor said tiredly, secretly hoping the detective would change back sooner rather than later.
Without a moment's hesitation, Sherlock disappeared beneath the bubbles and re-emerged in his own skin.
"Christ!" John shouted in shock, now able to see a wet Sherlock Holmes instead of wet Sherlock the cat.
"Sorry" Sherlock apologised with a weak smile.
"Can you, I dunno, warn me before you do that?" John asked with a laugh.
"There isn't much you can do as a cat…I could wink?" Sherlock suggested lightly.
"Yes, yes, do that next time" John said, coughing slightly at the lack of bubbles and how close he had been to the wall of the bath.
"Now, lean forward" John ordered in a doctor like tone.
Sherlock, surprisingly, obeyed and sat up in the bath to lean forward for John to start washing his hair and back without question.
"Do you know how rare shape changers are?" John asked distractedly as he massaged Sherlock's scalp, knowing he would like it considering the grooming he got as a cat.
"Obviously" Sherlock said softly.
"When did you find out?" John asked gently, massaging the younger mans' neck.
"When I was ten" Sherlock said quietly. "I turned into a dog to frighten Mycroft, he hates dogs"
"You are a multi-shape changer?" John asked incredulously as he let go of the detective and sat back on his heels in shock.
"I chose cat form because I knew you wanted one" Sherlock said with a shrug. "You were more likely to heal a cat than any other animal anyway" he continued, leaning back into the water to rinse away the soap. John found himself staring at the relaxed features, long white neck and lightly furred chest; he stopped himself abruptly by looking at his own wet hands.
"You could be any animal you wanted?" John continued, now lost in thought about what animal he would be.
"You would most obviously be a hedgehog, John" Sherlock mused as he lifted his head to see John's face.
"Shut up, you" John said, playfully splashing the younger man with water and bubbles. "I'm going to make some dinner; can I interest you in some chicken? Liver? Raw meat? Cat biscuits?" The soldier teased.
"Risotto" Sherlock said dully. "I detest animal food"
John laughed at that "Well, how was I supposed to know?" he said whilst wiping his hands. "I tried to do what was best" he continued.
"I know, and I will be forever grateful for it" Sherlock said quietly, watching John from his lying down position in the tub.
"You would do the same for me, I'm sure" John said with a smile before leaving the bathroom to prepare chicken risotto for them both.
*/*
Later that night, John bid Sherlock good night before heading sleepily up the stairs toward his own room. He settled between the sheets and brought the duvet up under his chin. Turning on his side, John turned off the bedroom light and his mobile, closing his eyes and readying himself for sleep.
It was then, that the sound of four paws on a wooden surface echoed round the quiet flat, there was a slight pressure at the end of the bed and John smiled as Sherlock the cat subtly made his way up the bed toward the doctor. Crawling underneath the duvet, the cat made itself at home under one of John's arms.
"Sherlock" John started, smelling the familiar bath crème that he had put into the taller man's bath earlier that evening.
In answer, Sherlock turned his face toward the soldier, licking his top lip and nose.
"You…you don't have to be the cat anymore" John said quietly, glad that the room was dark to hide his blush.
Sherlock reached up and nuzzled his face against John's softly. John smiled and closed his eyes, nuzzling back gently. The doctor smiled as he felt the transition from fur to skin against him.
Opening his eyes, John saw Sherlock looking intently at him, their noses touching lightly. Leaning forward tentatively, John closed the gap between them and kissed the consulting detective gently.
John sighed into the kiss as he felt Sherlock move further forward still, his body becoming flush with the doctor's, feeling every inch of skin against skin.
Breaking apart, John raised his hand to the base of the taller man's neck, tickling the skin he found there.
"John" Sherlock started, examining the doctor's eyes through the darkness.
"Yes, Sherlock?" John replied quietly.
"Do you know why multi-shape changers are alone?" Sherlock whispered, his voice sad but his eyes strangely vibrant.
"I have heard a rumour or two" John said, his eyes scanning Sherlock's intently.
"You might become a shape changer if we were to…consummate" Sherlock said bluntly, making John's blush worsen tenfold. "It is an advantage, but if people were to know you were a serial gifter, they do tend to think the worst of you."
"Not always" John murmured quietly, leaning back for another gentle kiss. A second later the doctor pulled away again and fixed Sherlock with a frown.
"But I will be in control of it, yes? As in, I will decide when I want to change and what I change into?" John questioned.
"Unless you are asleep" Sherlock replied.
"Will I loose my own gift?" John questioned further.
"No" Sherlock replied, his own hands roaming under John's t-shirt freely as he already knew John's decision.
"Then what are we waiting for?" John whispered against bow shaped lips, his eyes closing once more.
The kiss was magical, quite literally as John's hands began to glow and spark as though he were going to perform a healing. Sherlock began to shiver as John's healing hands travelled the expanse of bare skin on his back and neck, the kiss progressed into a more passionate kind and soon the two were sighing and moaning with the sheer pleasure of it all.
Becoming a part of the Consulting Detective was a matter of science, John carefully loosened his goal with a slick index finger while the kiss continued. Sherlock furrowed his brow but did not encourage nor push away the attentions to his previously untouched area.
John gasped painfully as he entered the younger man, he had never experienced a tight heat like it before and was struggling to keep his calm. Sherlock keened at the sensation and arched up into his controlling doctor, only causing a mutual groan at the movement.
Before long, the two were grunting and panting, rocking against each other and causing the most delicious friction. Sherlock was the first to fall over the edge, his body tensing in every respect, his eyes widened and unfocussed as John continued to pound relentlessly into him.
John followed soon after with a strangled cry of the detectives' name, and the two were spent, ending with a sloppy kiss before promptly falling into a deep sleep.
John awoke in Sherlock's arms but did not immediately open his eyes. It was warm; he felt safe, secure and loved. There was a noise from somewhere very close by, a sound like a motor ticking over. The sound was constant and annoying, John wanted it gone and quickly.
"John, do shut up, I'm trying to sleep" Sherlock murmured as he pulled John close to shush him.
It was then, that John recognised the sound as purring…his own purring. John was now acutely aware of his incredibly sharp hearing and the fact that he was very small. Having an extra appendage was rather an odd feeling as he swished his bushy tail over Sherlock's stomach. His eyesight was better than 20/20 and his fur was warm. Eager to experience life in his new part-time form, John burrowed round to place a paw on Sherlock's chest and lick his face, he felt strangely agile and extremely youthful. Looking down, John stopped at the sight of Sherlock's smooth skin under-paw.
"Sherlock, your scars are gone" John said breathlessly, startled by the sound of a soft meow that escaped him.
"John" Sherlock warned again, pushing the doctor away and turning over. "Go away".
"But I'm a cat!" John tried to say, flabbergasted that all that came out was a soft meow.
"I know" Sherlock said flatly, his voice muffled by the pillow.
Jumping from the bed, John shouted out as he flew through the air and landed on the hard flooring with reflexes he already loved.
"John!" Sherlock warned a third time, grasping a pillow and pulling it over his head to block out the noise.
"Sorry, Sherlock" John said, only managing a 'meooow mew' out loud.
John left the room and slowly took the descent down the stairs toward the bathroom, finally reaching the floor-length mirror, John stopped and stared.
John was a lovely mix of white and blonde, long haired and bushy tailed. If he were a Human he would love to cuddle himself – this thought alone made him laugh and he watched in awe as he saw a cat laugh for the first time in his life.
Running through to the kitchen, John attempted to climb the kitchen bunker. Upon reaching the marble surface however, he realised just how pointless it had been as he measured himself up against the kettle.
"Tea?" Came the baritone voice from behind him as he sat and looked toward the kettle longingly.
Looking up at Sherlock, John tried to smile and move toward him. Laughing lightly, Sherlock picked John up and popped him against his bare shoulder while he made a bowl of tea for John and a coffee for himself.
"You may have to stay like this for today, just until the initial energy wears off" Sherlock said gently, raising his hand to John's head and grooming it gently with his fingers. "But if you like, I can help you get to grips with it?" Sherlock offered, putting John back on the bunker to lick at his tea.
Meowing his appreciation, John glanced toward his lover with admiration.
Once the two had finished their beverages, Sherlock the cat appeared beside John on the kitchen bunker. John moved forward and nuzzled his partner gently, receiving a lick for his troubles. A loud door slam from down stairs instantly made the two alert, Sherlock pushed John backward and stood protectively in front of him.
"Oh Sherlock" Mycroft said as he looked at the two cats dubiously.
Sherlock sat down, his tail sweeping around himself elegantly as he looked up at his brother with distaste.
John moved to his side, mirroring his stance and being close.
"Why cats?" Mycroft asked scrunching his nose in distaste.
Sherlock remained impassive as he stared at Mycroft with narrowed eyes.
"Well, you know what will happen, Sherlock. John will be taken away if he is found out as a Serial Gifter, you too." Mycroft drawled in a bored tone.
John turned his head sharply toward Sherlock; trying to say "You're unregistered?" but instead letting out a small strangled meow.
Beside John, Sherlock bared his teeth, making a sharp hissing sound toward his brother.
"As you wish, Sherlock." Mycroft said loftily before turning heel and leaving the way he had entered.
Sherlock's phone began to ring on the windowsill in the living room as the street door slammed closed below. John smiled as he watched Sherlock jump from the bunker and transform mid-air, walking shamelessly across their shared room to answer his phone, seemingly not noticing his distinct lack of clothing.
John jumped rather clumsily from the bunker and trotted his way toward the consulting detective as Sherlock sat down in his armchair conversing with Lestrade. John bounced from the floor but missed the leather on the first attempt. Sherlock looked on rather amused as John, tried again undeterred, this time making it and landing sprawled against Sherlock's stomach.
Sherlock smiled and combed his hand through John's fur once more as he continued to discuss crime scene details over the phone.
*/*
It was some time later, that Sherlock and John approached the warehouse subtly, stalking like predators, they're light paws made them silent and deadly.
Lestrade had been texted once Sherlock had known the exact location of the gang and the kidnap victim. Insisting that he come along, John had been unable to change from his feline form just yet, making him rather vulnerable. Sherlock remained in his cat form too as he stalked beside John like a shadow, every now and then bumping hips and shoulders.
John found an entrance first and snuck through it, delicately walking toward a group of men standing round the kidnapped and beaten adolescent female.
The larger man on the right spotted John straightaway, making his way toward him, making to pick him up from the floor.
"Look what we have here? We can practice what we will do to you on the kitty" The large and unsightly bully said teasingly.
John, with immensely fast reflexes and eyesight dodged the man and ran into a hiding place; a small area under scrap metal.
John was in danger, he knew he was, he searched for any sight of Sherlock, but his heart thudded when he couldn't spot him. At least the man didn't have him…yet. Realising he was now trapped; John lowered his feline body to the ground, his ears flattening as he eyes narrowed in a threatening manner.
The larger man unfortunately pursued John, following him under the scrap metal heap and ripping shards aside to get better access. The soldier trembled as another piece of sheet metal was removed from over his head. He tried to bare his teeth and viciously hiss his warning, but it didn't come.
Not enough practice. He inwardly cursed, releasing his claws instead, ready to pounce if he had to.
However, as the man removed the last obstacle and spotted John with glee, there was an extremely loud noise from behind the white and blonde cat before a very large set of paw's landed either side of him. An ear splitting growl echoed around the vicinity and John felt a hot breath on his neck. Looking tentatively upward, John stared at the adult sized black panther that towered above him, baring all its teeth and snarling toward the perpetrator who dare hurt John.
The other men in the gang, a little over 100 yards away, turned round to face the noise with terrified looks on their faces. Before any of them could run, the large animal bounded after them, knocking down the first larger man before pinning the other three to the ground with powerful legs.
John remained frozen in place, his ears trembling as his heart pounded painfully in his small body.
Without warning, the man that had initially caught sight of John re-appeared, seemingly not being knocked unconscious by the very large jungle cat. He stood behind the panther and raised a gun toward its back.
With only a simple thought; John was flying through the air with tremendous speed toward the man. Still in flight; John felt his body swell and saw his paws transform in front of him. By the time John had landed back on the ground with a large gang member in his claws, he had become a Bengal Tiger.
John caught sight of the panther looking at him with large yellow eyes before he felt an almightily roar erupt from his throat with pride. It echoed around the disused metal factory for what felt like minutes before the area went quiet once more.
"Alright, Sherlock" Came Lestrade's voice from somewhere in the corner of the empty and disused warehouse, Sherlock stopped snarling but stayed put until the four men were handcuffed.
"Are you ok?" Lestrade asked, looking toward the panther questioningly. Waiting until he received a slight nod. "Who's your friend?" The DI asked, looking to the tiger dubiously as police officer's attended the young female.
John, taking advantage of being unidentified, stalked toward Sherlock and nuzzled him lovingly.
Lestrade watched incredulously as the two large cats sat beside each other, Sherlock gently nipping at the Bengal tigers' neck in a grooming manner.
John licked his lip and rolled his eyes toward Lestrade as Sherlock continued to nuzzle into him.
"John?" Greg asked incredulously.
Sherlock snapped his head toward the DI in surprise, how had he known John without a word?
"I would know that face anywhere" Greg said with a laugh, walking forward and holding out his hand. John smiled and raised a large paw to shake it. "So, you two are, well, you know?" Lestrade asked hesitantly.
Sherlock nodded curtly before turning from the detective and stalking away.
"Not so fast, Sherlock" Greg called out, making John stare at the DI questioningly.
"You are both unregistered serial-shifters" Lestrade said sadly. "I'm going to have to register you, it's my duty". Sherlock, who had not turned round, huffed a breath out through his nose before continuing to walk from the warehouse, out through the hole he had created in the rusted wall and into the night. John watched after Sherlock with a whine.
"I'm sorry, John" Lestrade said sadly, looking down at the beautiful tiger sitting at his heel. John didn't think much about it before turning his head toward the detective and seeking out his hand making the Human pet him fondly. John reached yet further and – being careful not to graze skin – he bit into the record book, taking it from Greg's grasp before sharply bounding after Sherlock and passing him on the way back out of the industrial estate.
John was sure he heard Sherlock laugh as he picked up speed, the police record book firmly lodged between the tiger's sharp teeth as the wind passed through his shining fur. Next thing he knew, Sherlock was sprinting at his side, the two making impressive headway in the darkness.
Greg leaned against the hole in the wall, shaking his head, watching after the two magnificent animals as they disappeared.
Perhaps no one had to know after all.
*/*
"It's so boring being Human" John said aloud one afternoon not long after the events at the warehouse.
Sherlock smiled at his newspaper without looking up. "Well, change then" He said with a shrug of his shoulders.
"What to?" John asked with wide eyes, he liked a challenge.
"John, we've been through this, you don't need to practice changing, it's a subconscious decision; like when you turned into a tiger, or that time you turned into a giraffe to reach the biscuits in the cupboard" Sherlock said in an amused tone.
John turned guiltily toward the kitchen to see the hole in the ceiling.
"The plasterer is coming this afternoon, Mrs Hudson never has to know" Sherlock said lightly, reading John before the doctor could even think it.
"Give me a challenge, Sherlock" John pleaded, feeling like a young child.
"Alright, fine" Sherlock caved, putting down his newspaper and looking toward John from his laid back position on the couch. "Iguana" he stated bluntly.
John made a face. "Something exciting Sherlock" He said, turning into his usual white and blonde cat and bounding across the room to place two paws on the couch cushion next to Sherlock's face.
"Octopus" Sherlock suggested, looking at John fondly.
John's cats eyes narrowed slightly before closing fully, Sherlock recognised the concentration that crossed his partners face before the cat disappeared.
Sitting up, Sherlock looked curiously at the floor.
"John, I said octopus, not starfish" The consulting detective said with a smile.
The cat reappeared instantly and the taller man immediately picked him up.
"And you know the rules, John. Never change into something smaller than a £2 coin." The consulting detective said fiercely, ensuring that John understood.
"Now, shall we go out?" Sherlock asked with a raised eyebrow, still holding John at arms length.
Without warning, John immediately reverted back to his human form, straddling the consulting detective snugly.
"No" John said lightly.
"I knew you were going to do that" Sherlock said flatly.
"You wanted me to do that" John teased before kissing the detective fiercely.
The front door slammed shut and thundering footsteps trailed up the staircase.
"Sherlock" Lestrade shouted, stopping short at the two piles of clothing at opposite ends of the room. John was about to say something when Sherlock's white paw landed lightly on his white nose. The two cats stayed silent beneath Sherlock's blue dressing gown.
"John?" Lestrade shouted out again, his voice sounding panic stricken and desperate.
Giving Sherlock very wide eyes, John moved out from under the dressing gown to look timidly up at the DI.
"Oh thank god, John, I need your help, will you come?" Lestrade said, catching site of the familiar cat.
Turning to pull the dressing gown from Sherlock with his teeth, John turned back toward Lestrade and nodded with a flick of his tail.
"You might need to change" Greg said awkwardly, before watching as John bounded from the couch and off into the shared bedroom, returning promptly once dressed.
Before the two men could leave, Sherlock pounced from the floor and sat across John's shoulders, his tail around the doctor's neck reassuringly.
John smiled and scratched his black cat as he walked.
"It's Mycroft. He's gotten badly injured and is in a coma" Lestrade said quietly as they got into his silver car. John watched Sherlock's ears as they flattened immediately.
"What happened?" John asked in surprise.
"Car accident" Greg said, looking apologetically toward Sherlock as the black cat remained in place in John's lap.
Walking into the private ward, Sherlock remained nestled in John's arm as the soldier approached the bed.
John winced when he saw the wounds on Mycroft's face and neck. Sherlock jumped lightly onto the bed and closely examined Mycroft from fingernail to nose, looking up at John expectantly.
John nodded at once and began to rub his hands together; Lestrade and the ward nurse watched on with interest as John placed his glowing hands down on Mycroft's chest and closed his eyes.
Mycroft was hurt badly and took a lot of John's energy to repair. After a while, John stumbled backward and was promptly assisted by Lestrade to sit down.
Sherlock padded up the bed sheet to stand upon his brothers chest, waiting eagerly for the man to wake up, it did not go unnoticed when Lestrade's fingers weaved between the older Holmes' own.
Mycroft groaned as he woke, his eyes opening and closing many times before he could focus on anything. Seeing Sherlock, Mycroft smiled.
"My God, it's like University all over again" The British Government drawled as he looked around himself to see John slumped in a chair beside the bed, a doctor and a nurse smiling at him from the end of the bed and Greg smiling widely, the DI's hand holding his own.
Sherlock padded tentatively closer and lay down less than 10 inches from his brothers' face.
"Thank you, John" Mycroft said gratefully as he looked toward the doctor. "And thank you, Sherlock. I know you are waiting to hear what happened but can you please get off me?" The older man said, looking down at the wide eyed cat.
John promptly got up from the chair and scooped Sherlock up into his arms, taking him back to the seat with him and stroking him idly.
"Anthea?" Mycroft asked Greg softly.
"She's in the other ward, broken ribs and leg, nothing too serious" Greg whispered, lifting his other hand to brush away some loose strands of hair from the taller man's forehead.
"The driver?" Mycroft asked again.
Greg shook his head.
Mycroft looked down at their conjoined hands before looking toward John and Sherlock.
"Traffic collision. A broken cross roads barrier. Can you believe something so mundane?" Mycroft said quietly, looking down sadly.
"You were lucky" John said promptly "If you had any more internal bleeding, I couldn't have saved you" he said sadly.
"I am very grateful you did, John. Thank you, but you must be tired now. Sherlock, take him home." Mycroft said softly, looking down at the cat encouragingly.
Sherlock jumped to the floor and became a guard dog.
"You didn't think I was still frightened by dogs, did you Sherlock?" Mycroft asked with a smile, but John noticed the anxious flicker of his left hand upon the bed sheets.
Seemingly unable to care, Sherlock trotted toward the ward door and sat patiently awaiting his doctor. John smiled weakly at the two men in a way of apology before getting to his own feet and trudging after the dog.
Being directed to Anthea's ward; John promptly healed her before leaving the hospital in a black cab.
Getting back to Baker Street, Sherlock waited until he was in the hallway before turning into a horse.
John laughed at the sight of him as Black Beauty but willingly lay across his back before Sherlock walked carefully up the stairs and into their flat. Walking over to the couch, Sherlock promptly returned to his human frame, falling onto the soft furniture and allowing John to fall onto his chest.
The doctor promptly fell asleep.
*/*
The problem with a shape changer was that they tended to wear their hearts on their sleeves. They often transformed in their sleep to whatever their unguarded soul felt like; whether vulnerable or brave.
When John awoke, the living room was flooded with light, he was vaguely aware that he was curved round impossibly tight and was being spooned by something soft and warm.
Opening his eyes, John snuffled, he was indeed a hedgehog. A hedgehog that was being cuddled by a black cat. Sherlock sleepily opened his eyes at the sudden movement and looked down at John in amusement.
Turning over, John looked up at Sherlock with a small smile before sniffing at him curiously. Putting a lazy paw across John's nose, Sherlock was in no mood for animal affection, even if it was really John.
"I wondered when you two were going to wake up" Mrs Hudson sing – songed from the kitchen, to which, John curled up tightly into a spiky ball and Sherlock turned onto his back to yawn and stretch.
"I've made human food for you, whether or not you want it – you need it. Especially you John Watson. Mycroft told me all about it, didn't you Mycroft?" She added anxiously, walking past the couch to place two large plates of hot breakfast down on the table.
John peeked out as Sherlock snapped his head toward the two wolves sitting in the leather armchair. John unfurled to look over at the two Husky's with interest. The brown/white one was larger than the grey/white one, but they were both impressive none-the-less.
"Its like living in a zoo with you lot" Mrs Hudson teased as she looked around at the four animals. "If anyone needs me, I will be down stairs." She continued, then stopping hesitantly as she looked down at the dogs. "As you; Mycroft told me your gift, I will show you mine" She finished, promptly disappearing into thin air.
Sherlock laughed, a funny noise being emitted from his cat like appearance.
So that's how Mrs Hudson managed to sneak up the stairs; she had the gift of transportation.
Getting up from the couch, Sherlock turned John over and gently picked him up in his teeth, carrying him toward their bedroom to change.
Returning moments later as humans wrapped in dressing gowns, Sherlock and John took seats at the table and began to attack their meals eagerly.
"Mycroft, Lestrade, do you want some food?" Sherlock asked without looking at the two fierce dogs that sat still beside the fire.
John's head snapped up toward Sherlock in shock.
"Lestrade?!" John asked, his mouth full of egg.
"Yes, John. Once again, your powers of deduction elude you" Sherlock drawled, cutting his toast. "Last night, at the hospital, did you not see my dearest brother and the DI holding hands? The loving gaze they shared?" Sherlock held his toast steadfast as he glanced over the two huskies "The ring that they both wear?"
Mycroft shifted uncomfortably on the rug before John turned to look them both over.
Lestrades' tongue was dangling between his strong teeth, chuckling, the doctor handed the DI a sausage and piece of bacon; his hand being licked haphazardly in the process. When John tried to give Mycroft some bacon, the larger wolf batted his hand away gently in an obvious decline.
"Sherlock, we came because we think someone is after us, more specifically, me" Came Mycroft's voice. John dropped his fork and turned to the larger dog in shock.
"You can talk?" John asked in awe.
"Of course I can talk. Sherlock, have you still not taught John?" Mycroft berated as he walked toward his brother and sat at his feet.
John couldn't remove his eyes from the talking husky.
"It's annoying" Sherlock dismissed.
"It is essential for communication …John, Shape changers can understand each other when they talk. A non shape changer will only hear the noise of the appropriate animal; however, the four of us have now, the same gift. Greg is still learning as you are" Mycroft said gently, looking across to the grey and white husky affectionately.
"The morning I changed, you understood what I said" John said to Sherlock with dawning realisation.
"Overrated" Sherlock said bluntly, biting his toast viciously.
"Mycroft, you said you were in danger?" John asked, changing the subject quickly and scooping some much needed beans into his mouth.
"Yes. That train barrier was no accident. There was an assassination attempt made on my life last night as I left the hospital." Mycroft said, walking back toward Lestrade and gently nuzzling the DI with his wet nose.
"My God, are you ok?" John asked, turning round to look at the two wild dogs.
"Yes, yes, no harm done. Just…gone into hiding as it were." Mycroft said gently.
"Mycroft, you couldn't look more suspicious" Sherlock said incredulously.
"It was my idea" Greg piped up, licking his nose. "I said we should be the animals Mycroft least liked, then they wouldn't find us"
"That was a good idea, Greg" John encouraged, nudging Sherlock with his knee.
"Oh yes, very good" Sherlock said distractedly.
John looked out of the window and back to the huskies.
"What are we going to do then?" The soldier asked, watching as Lestrade approached him and lay his fur covered head against John's thigh. The doctor smiled before petting Greg reassuringly, trying not to think too hard about the action.
"Greg, stop that" Mycroft said sharply, receiving a whine from the detective inspector.
Sherlock smiled at John as the doctor got onto his knees and started to play rough and tumble with Greg Lestrade the Husky.
Mycroft watched on in horror at the display of enjoyment as John wrestled with the large dog, his hands getting lost in thick clean fur as Greg's tail wagged endlessly.
"Come on, Mycroft, it's fun" John said somewhat puffily as he struggled to his knees once more.
"Not in your lifetime, John Watson" Mycroft drawled as he remained stock still beside the fireplace, his backbone razor straight and his tail coiled at his side.
Sherlock stood from the table and promptly turned into a black and white husky, his blue eyes vibrant and unsettling. John stared at him before leaning forward to stroke him fondly.
"I didn't know you liked huskies" Sherlock murmured as he reached up to lick John's face affectionately.
"I love huskies, but cats more" John replied, smiling before turning himself into a white husky and pouncing onto Sherlock, tugging at his ear with his teeth in a playful manner.
Before long, the three of them were play fighting together in the middle of the living room, Mycroft remained steadfast in his position at the fireplace, watching on in mild amusement as the three barked happily. Sherlock broke free of the tangle and walked toward Mycroft stonily, his tongue dripping between his teeth.
"What is your plan?" Sherlock asked as he took up the position on the rug beside his brother.
"I am still unsure. My teams are combing London as we speak, but until the culprits are found, I am to do nothing. I am useless" Mycroft said quietly, still watching Greg and John bounding excitedly about each other in K9 forms.
Much to the older brothers' surprise; Sherlock raised a paw and placed it on top of his own.
"Play" The consulting detective said gently.
"Don't be ridiculous" Mycroft snapped.
"I never am" Sherlock replied curtly. "It is fun Mycroft. Everyone needs a distraction from the world. John taught me that" he continued quietly.
"…I don't know how" Mycroft admitted in a whisper.
"Neither did I. You will pick it up, John has helped me with everything since I changed him" Sherlock admitted under his breath.
"You do not regret mating then?" Mycroft asked gently.
"Not at all" Sherlock replied honestly, his blue eyes watching John. "Neither do you" The younger stated, tilting his head toward his brother.
"I don't believe I do" Mycroft answered softly.
After a moments pause, Sherlock looked toward his brother.
Sherlock encouraged Mycroft forward, nudging him with a paw.
"You have become very affectionate, Sherlock" Mycroft warned wearily.
"Not at all. It is only easier as animals to communicate by touch. That is why I choose not to converse like this" Sherlock explained, getting to all fours as he walked toward the two panting dogs. "Be gentle, Mycroft has never done this before" Sherlock explained calmly toward the two playing wolves, before turning and launching himself at the wide eyed older Holmes'. There was a yelp before all four huskies were rolling about together and laughing hysterically, the loudest laugh belonging to Mycroft himself.
*/*
Waking up next to a black panther was not exactly what John had in mind for a relaxing Sunday morning, but he had taken it in his stride, turning from his cat form to human form, managing to coax a sleeping Sherlock to do the same.
Snuggling closer, John let his hands wander across silky skin, he loved the feeling of the detective against him. Kissing soft skin made Sherlock moan sleepily and pull the Doctor closer too.
"I love you" John whispered against the consulting detective's neck, closing his eyes.
"Love you too" Sherlock mumbled.
Sharing a kiss, John momentarily forgot that he was not in animal form before he nuzzled Sherlock with his nose.
"What are we going to do about Mycroft?" John asked, remembering that they had left the two large dogs to sleep in front of the living room fire before they had gone to bed.
"Nothing. Mycroft's staff are working on finding the gang or assassin" Sherlock said quietly, pulling John closer still. "We just need to make sure he stays indoors like a good pup".
John laughed lightly before moving his hands southward on Sherlock, eliciting a pleasure-filled sound from the consulting detective.
"Would it be unacceptable to do this with your brother and Greg downstairs?" John whispered, his eyes heavy lidded as they stared lustfully at Sherlock's lips.
"Oh yes, criminal offence" Sherlock teased before claiming the doctor's lips in a hot-headed kiss.
*/*
Showering and dressing, the two men allowed a few more stolen kisses and touches before straightening each others clothing and heading down the stairs noisily into the living room. It was a relief to see that the two sleeping dogs were still dogs and that Mycroft and Lestrade hadn't transformed into something large and scary overnight. John watched them both for a moment, deciding to 'let sleeping dogs lie' as it were before gravitating toward the kitchen; popping on the kettle and smiling when he felt Sherlock wrap his arms around him from behind.
"Sherlock, what if they wake up?" John whispered, turning his head toward the detective.
Sherlock shrugged. "Then they'll look the other way" He said quietly, leaning down to claim John's lips with his own for the millionth time that morning.
Breaking apart, Sherlock moved his mouth to the soldiers' neck and gently sucked on the skin he found there, John leaned back into the detective and let out a sigh of contentment.
"Why didn't we do this sooner?" John asked gently.
"The moment never arose" Sherlock mumbled against warm skin. "But I knew I wanted this from the moment you held me close" he continued uncharacteristically.
John furrowed his brow. "When?" he asked with a puzzled look toward the kettle.
"I sent you a text, saying I was going to be late, I had been injured and needed help. I transformed and waited by your feet. You asked me if I wanted 'a cuddle'." Sherlock paused to place his mouth beside John's ear "Before that moment, I hated human interaction, hated being touched. I would hug on the off chance that I may get further with a case or if they are close enough to be counted as family, but I have never wanted to be touched as much as I desire to be by you." The detective confessed.
John turned in the taller mans' arms and allowed his warm hands to snake around Sherlock's back. "Then you will be touched as much as possible" The soldier whispered, earning a surprised gaze from his partner.
"Is that a promise?" Sherlock breathed, his eyebrow raising in curiosity.
"What if it is?" John asked, mimicking the taller man's brow line.
"Well, if it is" Sherlock started, stopping to lift John from the deck and sit him on the kitchen counter "I may have to make our relationship permanent" he said, stepping forward to rid the space between their torso's.
"You mean it wasn't already?" John asked in surprise.
"I have been reliably informed that a well stamped sheet of paper and a couple of gold rings make a relationship permanent" Sherlock replied huskily, his sharp eyes flicking from dark blue orbs to pale thin lips.
"I am already yours, ya big git" John said affectionately. "The paper is just a formality, you made me yours by sharing your gift, remember?"
"John, please, we were having a moment" Sherlock said with a smile.
"Then at least be your obnoxious self and not this lovesick internet researched puppy" John chided.
"I thought you wanted the 'lovesick' kind. You always go for that particular trait in females" Sherlock said, tilting his head in a way that said 'do not understand, explain'.
"But that's females. I'm attracted to you. The worlds only consulting detective, the manliest of men, a whole category of his own" John said quietly, leaning forward to whisper the next part against the younger man's lips. "I have never had better sex, than when you are angry".
John's words sent a chill through the taller man and he growled a little unintentionally against the soldier's mouth, his hands clutching at the older man's rear.
"Later, later, I'm still delicate from this mornings' round" John said with a light laugh as he felt Sherlock's hands squeeze. "We can get married if you'd like, Sherlock. I have no objection" The soldier continued softly, allowing a hand to stroke through the dark curls atop the detectives' head.
Sherlock didn't speak, he didn't make a sound, all he did was wrap his arms firmly around the shorter man and hold him.
"For goodness sake, am I to die of thirst in this accommodation?" Mycroft drawled, braking the peaceful moment.
Sherlock let go of John and went to move away before John reached out and grasped his shirt collar, bringing him close for a very heated kiss.
Both heard Mycrofts' heavy sigh with satisfaction before John let go of the detective and hopped from the bunker to continue making the tea.
*/*
It was some time later that the three men walked into Scotland Yard, accompanied by the Husky that was Mycroft Holmes.
Lestrade organised a team briefing and handed the case to his men. Sherlock headed to the hospital to examine the scene of the assassination attempt with Mycroft and John was sent to the scene of the initial crime; the set up traffic accident.
That evening, in Baker Street, John tried to make himself comfortable. He built up the fire in the fireplace before moving his chair closer to it. His leg protested continuously due to the cold he had been out in all day. Deciding that no one would know, John transformed, he was a little surprised that he had become a lion cub rather than the cat he had been aiming for, but shrugging tiredly, he curled up in the armchair with ease and drifted into a heavy slumber.
When the lion cub awoke; to his surprise he was being stroked by a human hand, opening his eye a little, John saw that he was not where he had gone to sleep. Instead, he was in a laboratory, and the man currently stroking his fluffy fur was not someone he recognised.
Getting immediately to all fours, John growled at the unfamiliar man and surroundings.
"It's ok little one, we've got you here." The man said gently. "We aren't going to hurt you, we have only kidnapped you." The balding man continued as he let go of the animal and walked toward the door, closing and locking it behind him.
Kidnapped.
How had he been so stupid as to go back to Baker Street on his own?
The man, or gang, that were tracking Mycroft obviously weren't daft, they must have traced Mycroft to Sherlock.
Prowling round his new location, John found that the room was completely sealed, no windows, one locked door and no way out.
Giving up for the time being, John sat down once more and eyed the door suspiciously.
*/*
"Where did you last see him?" Sherlock shouted in the young police officers' face.
"He-he came to the crime scene, w-wanted to see the damage that had happened to the c-car. A-after that, he said goodbye" The young man spluttered, unable to back away as the consulting detective had a tight hold on the front of his bullet proof jacket.
Sherlock let go once all the relevant information had been spilled. Turning on a heel, Sherlock's facial expression was murderous.
John had gone missing and was not answering his texts, calls or e-mails.
"Sherlock, he's only been gone a couple of hours, he might be checking a lead" Lestrade tried to say calmly, only deserving a dirty scowl from the tall man.
"Something is wrong, Lestrade, and it wouldn't have happened if Mycroft hadn't come to Baker Street" Sherlock barked.
As if in reply to his statement, Donavon knocked on the office door and came in without waiting for confirmation. She walked briskly across the office and handed Greg a large brown envelope.
Looking cautiously up at a wide eyed Sherlock, Greg took a letter opener to the object and carefully pried it open.
Turning it upside down, a small clump of golden fur fell onto his desk along with a yellow post it note.
'The Cub's limbs will be amputated safely and hygienically if Mycroft Holmes is not handed to us. You have four hours before the first leg is removed, and an hour thereafter until the second. Oxford Street Station 8pm'.
Greg swallowed hard and looked up at Sherlock, furiously blinking his rapidly watering eyes.
"The Cub?" Donavon asked in confusion.
"John" Sherlock whispered, an iron fist clenching around his heart.
"Sally, go" Greg said shortly, looking pointedly at her as she huffed loudly and left the room.
As the door to the office came to, a large dog pushed through and walked calmly toward Greg.
"What is it?" Mycroft asked, standing up on his back legs with two paws on the desk to better see the note.
"We need to hand you over, Mycroft. Whatever you have done, John cannot be made to pay for it" Sherlock said gravely, his eyes focused on the dog.
"They've taken him?" Mycroft asked in a whisper, sniffing at the clump of fur.
"And it's your fault" Sherlock growled.
"I will go now" Mycroft said quietly, looking from Sherlock to Greg.
"No, you can't, you said it yourself, they'd kill you" Lestrade said angrily, slamming his hand on the table in frustration. "Now, I think, Sherlock and I will follow you in, we can attack between us"
Mycroft looked to Sherlock who inclined his head curtly as if to say yes.
*/*
The hours dragged slowly by, Sherlock inside his mind palace, Mycroft sitting at Greg's feet and Greg stroking him affectionately. Eventually, at 20 to 8, Sherlock snapped to and donned his coat without a word, waiting by the door of Lestrade's office as the other two got ready to leave.
Surprisingly, Oxford Street Station was rather empty save for the one homeless person. The three sat, and waited.
"I don't understand, the note said 8pm" Greg said nervously looking at the clock as it struck half past the hour.
"Something is wrong" Sherlock said quietly as he searched the area surreptitiously.
"You think…John?" Greg asked tentatively.
"I think John has taken care of the situation" Sherlock said with a smirk, as if on que, a very loud roar echoed through the tunnels and around the platform where they sat.
Greg and Mycroft shared a glance as Sherlock got to his feet, his hands in his pockets, awaiting his enemy.
There was a screeching sound as a train somewhere in the tunnels came to a breakneck halt, this noise was followed by an eerie silence as the homeless person got to his feet and scarpered.
After an entire five minute silence; there was another roar before the sound of yelling and gunshots ripped through the station. Sherlock tensed, but only Mycroft noticed it.
The silence that followed led Sherlock to jump onto the train tracks, transforming before hitting the tarmac. To the consulting detectives' surprise, Mycroft appeared at his side.
The two jaguars prowled the track side by side, into the dark of the tunnel beyond the station. The train was derailed and twisted, each carriage dislodged from its' manufactured place, the windows were smashed at the front, allowing Sherlock to pounce up into the first carriage. There was further screaming as the civilians at their huddled end tried to back yet further away as a large black cat jumped onto the floor of the train. Within one sweep of sharp grey eyes, Sherlock had assessed the entire situation.
One man lay dead, the large puddle of blood surrounding him suggested he was shot in a crossfire. Another man lay whimpering beside the closed door, his wounds were very different, his torso had been torn by sharp teeth, he was loosing a lot of blood but remained conscious.
The third man stood holding a gun with two outstretched shaking hands. The reason for his nerves was quite evident as a familiar Bengal tiger allowed another roar to escape through it's vocal chords as it stood in the middle of the carriage, ears pinned back and blood covered teeth bared.
Sherlock walked as slowly as he could toward the tigers side and nuzzled his neck with his black nose in a comforting manner. Without warning, Sherlock found himself pinned under a paw as John pounced at him, his eyes wild. In that instant, Sherlock knew that the soldier had re-entered the battlefield, the man was in attack mode and was desperately fighting for his life.
The next few seconds passed extremely quickly as Mycroft pounced over head, landing heavily on the remaining threat of a man with a weapon and John sank his teeth into Sherlock's neck.
By the time Mycroft had disposed of the man and his gun, it was almost too late.
"John" Mycroft said warningly, noting the hold he had on the consulting detective.
The tiger twitched, his teeth sinking further into tough skin as he heard his name, his growling was constant and his eyes were widely threatening.
"John, let Sherlock go" Mycroft said firmly, walking round to face the tiger.
The elder of the three observed John's immediate change in character as the tiger instantly let go of Sherlock and took several steps backward, his ears returning to their normal position and his golden eyes blinking rapidly at the scene.
"Sherlock, Sherlock, can you hear me?" Mycroft asked as the bleeding feline creature allowed a broken whine to escape him.
John, still coming to terms with the horror that surrounded him, quickly thundered his way toward the six scared people still lining the end of the carriage, once more they began to scream as John approached them.
Quickly, biting into two coats that lay abandoned on a seat, he returned to Sherlock's side, promptly changing back to himself and hastily covering his body in a long coat. Landing hard on his knees at Sherlock's side, he rubbed his hands together to achieve the spark he had been gifted with. Mycroft watched on as Sherlock's wounds were instantly healed, his cat fur being replaced with white skin.
John fetched the other long coat from the floor beside them to cover the consulting detective carefully.
"Don't fuss, John" Sherlock snapped lightly as he began to sit up, his new scars clearly evident across his neck and chest.
"I'm so sorry, Sherlock, really, I really am so sorry" John said almost hysterically as he tried hastily to blink away his tears.
"John, shh, it's ok, I'm ok, no damage done." Sherlock dismissed as he looked around them once more. "Really, Mycroft?" He asked in surprise as he faced his brothers' cat clad face.
"It had to be done" Mycroft answered loftily, lifting his wet nose to the ceiling.
John laughed a little as he spotted the terrified people come forward a little, seeing that the three animals were only serial shifters and not the real thing.
Before long, the people were being helped from the train by Greg and his team as Mycroft stood by his side, husky form once more.
John and Sherlock retreated to a warmer corner of the station in house-cat form, nestling together closely and nuzzling each other's apologies away.
"Can't you two go home and do that?" Mycroft teased in his English drawl as he approached them with the DI behind him.
Sherlock immediately stood to his feet and walked toward his very much larger brother.
"Thank you" The younger said genuinely, his head raised high, his tail down low.
Mycroft sat and looked down at his brother with a tilted head. "You are very welcome, Sherlock…I never was your enemy you know." He said gently.
"Not now, perhaps" Sherlock agreed, reaching a paw across the distance.
Mycroft's left paw batted Sherlock away.
"Give me a real handshake next time" Mycroft said firmly, lowering his face to his brothers' height.
Sherlock would have smirked if it would be recognisable. "Deal" He said eventually.
"Goodnight, Dr Watson, Sherlock" Mycroft bid as he turned to walk away, Lestrade very much in tow.
Sherlock turned to John; "Home?" He asked tiredly.
John got to his feet and reached his nose to meet Sherlock's in a cat-kiss.
"I'm so sorry, Sherlock" John murmured, his eyes closed as he kept his face as close as possible to the detectives' own.
"John, it was my fault. I should not have distracted you. I got what I deserved" Sherlock calmed, letting his tongue lap at John's mouth.
"You could have died" John said quietly.
"But you saved me" Sherlock countered, lifting his head away. "And if we go home now, make best use of our evening; these scars will vanish overnight" Sherlock said huskily.
John didn't need telling twice as he turned tail to run up the staircase and onto the dark street above. Sherlock followed quickly, making sure to keep an eye on his doctor from now on.
The End