You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always... Always.

I am sorry. Forgive me.

Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.

Sherlock slammed closed the door to his bedroom, leaning back against it. The shivers running up and down his body became stronger, echoing the pain he would no doubt experience once the transformation was really underway. He was sweating, his breathing labored and his mind a fog except for one word.

Mate.

The word reverberated around his brain, in synch with his heartbeat. He never should have gotten so close to her. He'd been pushing her away for years now, it should have been easy to do it again tonight. But when he'd leaned down and pressed his lips to her cheek, her scent was so strong. Sweet cherry, bright lemon and something darker, earthier. A mouthwatering scent that called to the most primal part of him.

Thank god for Irene's text, or everyone he cared about would know that Sherlock Holmes was a werewolf.

He'd never had trouble resisting the pull of his wolf before, but he'd never spent so much time in the company of Molly Hooper. And every time she brought him coffee or hovered near him in the lab, his wolf would scent her and begin vying for control. Wanting- needing to claim his mate. Sherlock had said such awful things to keep Molly at a distance.

But this damnable party fell right on the first night of the full moon, when it was hard enough to control the pull to transform. But when Molly walked in with her hair down showing more skin than he'd ever seen, it took everything he had to keep his wolf down.

The changes were beginning to take hold. Already he could see his black hair lightening to the reddish blond color of his wolf form. His vision was blurry, so his eyes were probably shifting too, to green-gold. The pain was starting, still manageable for now but that wouldn't last long.

Mate. Close.

Oh God. Molly was still here. Taking a deep breath, he could taste her scent on the air and he couldn't hold back a yip of excitement. His wolf was ready and pushing to be free.

Mate. Mine.

"Sherlock, I- are you OK? I thought I heard you cry out-"

She smelled so good, so sweet. Sweet Molly Hooper, she deserved better than him. If he were to let her in, would she run? Would she turn in fear or disgust?

No, this was Molly, his true mate. She'd still care. Still love him. Wouldn't she?

"I'm so sorry, Molly, about, what I said earlier. I didn't- ah, didn't mean it." The pain had arrived, and Sherlock could feel the sweat pouring down his back. His bones would begin breaking and resetting into his wolf form soon.

"Sherlock, you sound like you're in pain." She frantically tried the door handle, but he was still sitting on the floor blocking her way. "Please, let me in, let me help you."

"If I wasn't everything that you think I am, Molly – everything that I think I am – would you still want to help me?"

"What do you need? Sherlock, please, open this door!" She was near tears now; he could hear her voice breaking.

Mate. Upset. Comfort.

Sherlock rolled himself away from the door and sat back on his knees. He could barely keep his head up, as Molly burst through the door and dropped to the floor in front of him. She crouched down to meet his eyes and stroked his face, moving the sweaty ginger fringe off his forehead.

"You." He looked into her eyes, trying to smile. "I need you."

"Sherlock- your hair- what- and your eyes are so green." She checked his pulse to find it racing, but her other hand never stopped stroking his jaw.

"What's happening to you? Are you- you need to go to the hospital." She started to get up, but he grabbed her arm.

"Molly, there's something I need to tell you, but there's no time," he growled. He could smell her fear as she noticed the change in his voice. It was sharp, altering her scent.

"I won't hurt you. No matter what I look like, know that I won't hurt you. You must trust me."

"Sherlock, I-"

Molly was cut off by a guttural roar. The sound of cracking bones sent her scrambling backward into a corner of the room as Sherlock took on his altered form. His shoulders widened until his once immaculate white shirt was in tatters, exposing muscular arms and a broad chest covered in reddish-brown fur. That fur extended down to his larger than normal hands, and fingers that had become claws.

Even his face was changing, as that striking bone structure shifted into a muzzle. His eyes were now almost completely gold with only faint swirls of green left.

Clad only in Sherlock's suit trousers, a huge wolf-like creature lay panting on the floor.

Seeing it with her own eyes didn't make it any easier to believe.

Molly Hooper had watched her beloved Sherlock transform into a wolf right before her eyes. Although frozen in fear as his human cries of pain gave way to growls and keening, she never looked away. She wanted to understand, wanted to help him if she could.

She'd heard her share of stories and legends about werewolves over the years, but she had no idea what she was actually dealing with here. The only thing she knew for certain was that Sherlock had told her that he wouldn't hurt her and she trusted his word.

His breathing was calming, but he still hadn't moved apart from the steady rise and fall of his ribcage. Molly gathered her courage with a shallow breath.

"Sh-Sherlock?"

His head turned toward her so quickly that all Molly registered was a flash of red fur before his golden eyes were boring into hers. He slowly moved his body into a crouched position, but his gaze never wavered. He tilted his head as she studied her, and began to make a soft growling sound.

It took Molly a moment to realize he was speaking to her.

"Mate. Fear."

He lowered his head slowly and stretched his muzzle toward her hand until she could feel his soft breath on her fingers.

"Comfort?"

She hesitated only a moment before opening her palm to him, and he nuzzled her gently. Molly felt a small smile tug at her mouth and she felt some of her tension draining. She began to gently stroke his face and head and he leaned into her touch affectionately.

His fur was soft and for a moment Molly wondered if Sherlock's dark curls would feel this good to the touch. Biting her lips, she let herself look him over, noting his more muscular shoulders and back and almost itching to touch his strong thighs.

He's just as gorgeous, even as a bloody werewolf.

"Mate happy." And with that he closed his eyes, sighing happily and curled further into her lap.

It took her a moment before she realized what he had said.

"Mate? Sherlock, I don't under—"

The wolf pulled out of her lap and tilted his head at Molly once again. He shook his head at her, looking almost confused.

"Wolf. No Sherlock."

Molly blinked a bit as her mind raced. She'd watched Sherlock transform, and he'd seemed to know what was happening to him. How separate were his human and wolf forms? Would he remember this conversation? And why did the wolf seem to think she was his mate?

Obviously Sherlock didn't feel the same. His scathing comments on her body earlier in the evening were a very clear testament to that and Molly's stomach clenched at the thought.

The wolf began to whine a bit, his eyes large and shining with concern. He pulled further from her and stood to his full height, which looked to be slightly taller than the human detective. He offered hispaw to Molly and she took it, allowing herself to be pulled up from her protective position in the corner.

"Mate afraid?" He kept his eyes on the hand he was still holding.

Molly gave a nervous chortle, before shaking her head.

"I'm sure I should be terrified, but strangely, no. I'm not afraid of you, Wolf." She gave him a shy smile, one he returned. "But, I'm sorry. I don't think I'm your mate."

Once again he tilted his head, looking puzzled. Then he stepped close to her and leaned down, nuzzling the juncture of her shoulder and neck and inhaled deeply. She felt as much as heard him growl softly, almost a groan before his tongue swiped the most sensitive part of her neck.

Molly felt a shiver of excitement run down her spine and she jolted back from him. Her eyes were wide in surprise but when she looked up to Wolf he was smirking at her with a smile that she'd absolutely seen on Sherlock before.

She found it just as sexy now as then.

"True mate." He gave her a very deliberate nod.

"I'm not a wolf like you."

"Wolf turn Mate." His tongue swiped his front teeth and Molly tamped down the whimper starting in her throat.

"This is madness," she whispered, more to herself than to the wolf in front of her. The old Halloween stories about werewolves were running through her mind. They bit humans to turn them into wolves like themselves. She should have been horrified, frightened for her life.

Instead, she was intensely aroused by the thought of Wolf biting her and claiming her as his mate. She prayed he wouldn't notice as she clamped her thighs together.

But Molly watched him take a deep breath almost scenting the air, and his smile widened.

"Mate want Wolf." He stepped toward her slowly but purposefully.

The moment was interrupted by the tinny strains of Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer coming from Molly's mobile.

"I—just wait. Wait one mo, I'll just," she gestured to her clutch on the floor and watched Wolf tilt his head again, his seductive glances having changed over to confusion.

"Hello? Mike, yes. Ummm, you too, Merry Christmas…"

"Right now?.. No, I understand. I can be there fairly soon, I'm just, uh…"

"Yes, see you soon."

Her hands were shaking as she ended the call. Wolf was staring at her but he no longer looked confused. He looked worried.

"Wolf, I have to go. They need me at the hosp-"

"Mate want Wolf?" he asked quietly. He hadn't moved since she'd taken the call but his eyes were wide and a bit sad. It struck her that although Wolf couldn't speak as well as Sherlock, he certainly expressed his emotion more freely. Molly wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad.

"Mate likes Wolf," she told him with a small smile. "But, when you're human, when Sherlock comes back… He won't want me." She was working hard to hold back tears.

He closed the distance between them quickly and took her face between his massive paws.

"Wolf want Mate. Human want Mate." She could see that he was trying to make her understand, trying to convince her. If only the man wanted her the way his wolf did.

She turned away from him as she lost control of her tears.

"I'm sorry, Wolf, I—I have to go." Molly ran out of his room, and pausing only to grab her coat off the rack, ran out of 221 Baker Street.

She walked almost half the distance toward St. Barts before the mournful howl of the wolf she'd left behind faded completely.