Chapter 1


Hello! I hope you will enjoy this fic ~

It's also posted on ao3 with the same name and same author (that'd be me ^^)
Here's the summary from ao3:

Shapeshifters (or just Shifters) are known, and registered by the animal family they Shift into (a cat shifter is registered as 'feline' - not the type of cat they sgift into). Greg Lestrade is busy at work in the summer when he comes across the young Shifter Sherlock, who's on the run from some really evil types. Taking the young panther under his wing, Greg will have to fight with tooth and claw and wit to keep them both safe and out of sight until they can reach the only other person Sherlock feels he can trust, his agent brother - who, of course, is out of the country on a mission. Greg's simple life just became a very dangerous one.


He ran. He ran as fast as his small legs possibly could. His paws were sore and bleeding, his whole body ached and his tongue rolled out as he gasped for air. His usually shiny midnight coat was muddy and dusty, twigs everywhere in his matted fur. After a small internal debate, he hid in a large bush, fighting against his instinct to loudly gasp for each and every breath. He was scared, so scared. He'd never been this scared in his life. He'd never been this hurt in his short life either. He did not know where he was, just that he'd left London. He shivered in fright, and he felt cold, oh so cold, the day promised to be a hot one, a nice warm day in May, but the morning mist chilled him and dampened his fur, making him cold to the bone. The run had kept him warm but as soon as he stopped the chill seeped into his very being. It was tempting, oh so very tempting, to just lay his head down on his front paws and sleep for ages. But he couldn't, that would be his death sentence for sure. He hated asking for help, hated being in someone's debt, hated not being able to do things himself. But he was aware of some of his own shortcomings. He was not an adult, and he was alone and he did not know where he was and he had no way of contacting his brother. An intense stab of longing hit him in the gut when he thought of his brother. He sat beneath the bush, his furiously beating heart somewhat slowing down, while he pondered his options. There wasn't much he could do, and he did not know many people and he did not know who he could trust. But he needed help, he really did. Help and protection. All those things his brother was for him, but his brother was not here. He needed a substitute… A thought occurred to him, and he took some time thinking it over. It was… risky. Very risky. But it was worth a try, and it was honestly the only thing he could think of doing, he was tired and hurt and alone. Slowly, he closed his pale blue eyes and let out a huffing sigh, and he opened the shields of his mind and sent out a Call for help, letting some of his hurt and need for help color the call, hoping against all hope that a large feline was somewhere in the vicinity. But what were the odds?

It was just past 5 AM, but Greg was already out mucking the stables, working up a light sweat that contrasted the slight morning chill. It was a Sunday, and he had volunteered to stay in the stables and work today, as most personnel were away training on another racetrack. They had a young chestnut stallion they had high hopes for, and they wanted him to get used to different surroundings, so the head trainer, his right hand man, and some other stable hands were away this weekend, with more horses than just the one stallion of course. Greg's summer vacation had started, but he would work all summer to pay for his tuition fees. He hummed to himself as he worked, glad that he'd always been a morning person, and happy that his job wasn't too far from London. And this job was good, very good for him in fact. He was on his way to become a vet, and any animal–related work was good in his resume. And of course, he needed the money to pay for his tuition fees and for his living, even though he for the moment lived close to the stables very cheaply, for which he was most grateful. He was… content with his life right now. His studies were going well and he had a job he was good at and did not hate. He could use some more friends, he supposed, but really, he never had much time to spend with his mates anyway. A pint after school sometimes, but then back and work, since he actually had to pay for his living himself. A soft huff interrupted his line of thought and he laughed softly at the bay gelding that eyed him curiously. Greg stopped a short while to scratch his friend behind his ears, the young thoroughbred happily nipping at his fingers. The quiet of the morning was something Greg loved dearly. The eerie silence, the mist that covered every meadow as far as he could see, the birds that now and then sang a lovely tune. And for the day, he was alone at work, only the horses that were left and him. The content chewing, the rustle of hay, and the occasional neigh, Greg was feeling very happy. He had mucked the boxes that needed to be tended and was sweeping the stable way when he stopped for a moment and rested his hand on the broom and then his head on his hands, just letting the feeling of contentment sweep through him. Letting his mind wander, and just feeling the moment, something tugged at him suddenly, not strongly but it was there. Something, something… Greg straightened his back and looked around, but no one had arrived in the last few minutes. All he heard was the horses. He closed his eyes and mentally followed the signal, and then he felt the pain, the anger, the confusion, but most of all, he felt the fear. With a snap, his eyes flew open and with long strides, he left the stable, purpose in his steps.

Greg knew the grounds surrounding the stables very well, he often walked them, alone or with a horse in tow, and his memory was very good. So he knew just where he had felt the Call, it was about a kilometer from where he had been working. He consciously made his steps heavier, letting out a hum now and then under his breath. He slowed down and stopped in front of an inconspicuous bush, and he carefully crouched down, hazel eyes peering inside the bush, meeting a pair of tired pale blue eyes, monitoring his every move.

"Hey there kid," Greg softly said, slowly reaching out with his right hand, making no hasty moves. "I got your Call. Come over here and let me help you."

A soft whine, a wet and small nudge at his hand, and Greg carefully reached inside the bush and lifted the black panther cub up. He was wounded, and obviously exhausted, his breath coming in short gasps, tongue lolling out. His fur was bloodied, dirty and matted from sweat, and it made Greg's heart ache. He removed his jacket and wrapped the cub in it, the little thing was shivering from the cold of the morning, and Greg still had a t-shirt on.

"I've got you," he murmured, and let Caring flow through to the cub via the hesitant Link they had formed when Greg had answered the Call for help. He felt the cub relax, and he held him in his arms, massaging one black ear between his thumb and forefinger as he began the walk back to the stables.

The mist still swirled around the stables, and the horses were still happily eating their hay when Greg came back with the panther cub in a steady hold. He entered the largest of the stables (the main building, the other two stables were smaller and did not have any other rooms other than the boxes for the horses), and his steps echoed through the empty stable way as he walked to the little but cozy dining room for the stable boys, trainers, and the occasional horse owner. On his way he grabbed a few clean towels and slung them over his shoulder, very happy that no one else but him was there so there were no curious questions, questions he could not answer… yet. He switched on the lamp in the dining room, and as always it took forever to light up the area, but Greg did not care as he sank down on the worn but comfy red sofa in the left corner of the room. He gently unfurled his jacket, and the little mass of black fur opened its eyes and stared. And kept on staring. It made Greg's stomach lurch, and gave him a queasy feeling. Someone had obviously hurt the kid and he was still weary, still on guard, the tiny body that had relaxed on the way back was now tense and the panther was ready to sprint away at any given moment. Greg pretended not to notice, and he gently put one of the softer towels over the shivering cub.

"Stay there, kid. Need some hot water to wash that messy fur of yours."

He rose, and went to the sink next to the small table with the microwave just across the room. He opened the small fridge, looking for anything that could be useful but found nothing. Huffing in annoyance, he almost slammed the fridge shut, but remembered the scared thing on the couch and just shut it firmly. He took a glass bowl from the small pantry next to the fridge. He turned on the water, waiting for it to at least get lukewarm, and kept on scanning around for useful things. He spotted a tube next to the microwave, almost completely hidden behind yesterday's newspaper. Greg took it and turned it in his hand and a slight smile graced his face. It was a salve for wounds, mostly used on horses but it worked on other animals too. The panther had not looked too hurt, mostly exhausted and frightened. Greg just wanted something to treat its paws with, he knew how much wounded paws could hurt and it would affect the cubs walking, running and climbing. He filled the bowl with water and walked back to the cub, who kept its eyes fixated on him the whole time. It would probably be an intimidating glare with time, Greg mused, but as a tiny cub it just looked sort of funny on the panther. He softly sat down on the old sofa again, and with a careful hand he removed the towel that he had covered the cub with. He took another towel and dropped it in the bowl, soaking it through before he wrung it so it was still wet but not dripping. Greg hummed lowly under his breath, he knew both animals and kids sometimes found his humming relaxing. The panther cub still had his sharp gaze on him, but let Greg gently clean him, paw by paw, and Greg took another towel and it went through the same procedure in the glass bowl. He used that second towel to clean the black fur on the cubs back and head. The panther somewhat grumbled very very quietly when Greg carefully scrubbed his head clean from dirt and sweat, and it made Greg want to smile, but he knew better than to laugh at the kid who huffed at being cleaned just like any other kid would – in his limited experience most kids went through a phase when they hated showers, baths and cleaning all together. He applied salve to the cubs small, sore paws; gently massaging the pads with skilled fingers. As he massaged the cubs' ribs with one of the towels (yellow, and the softest he could find) he heard a car engine in the distance and briefly wondered if something had happened at the race track, since no one should be back already; in fact, no one should be back before midday. But as that thought passed through his mind, the tiny panther tensed up and if Greg hadn't stopped him, he would have leapt away (and probably hid under the sofa since the door to the room was closed).

"Hey hey kid, take it easy," Greg said as he held on to the tiny feline, who hissed at him, clearly agitated but what hit him more, was the fear that he felt radiating from the panther.

"Hey little Bagheera," to which the cub made a sound that Greg translated as an almost laugh, "I promise that if someone in that car is looking for you, I won't tell them that you are here, alright?" Here Greg made an internal exception for a really worried parent. The cub stopped his struggle and just looked at Greg, eyes wide and slightly hopeful. Greg caressed one of the panthers' black ears.

"You're sort of my responsibility now, you know," his voice warm and affectionate, and the cub stilled and finally relaxed a bit, which made Greg sure that he had chosen the right words.

With a final pat on the damp head, he rose from the sofa, mouthing 'I'll be back' to the cub and walked towards the door. Before leaving he looked back at the cub one last time and smiled reassuringly.

The car Greg had heard had indeed stopped just outside of the largest stable, the driver hadn't even bothered to stop in one of the five available parking spots – and this irked Greg for unknown reasons. The car was a large black BMW, he had no idea what model or year since his interest in cars was abysmal. A platinum blonde woman with long legs slid out of the passenger side, dressed all in black just like the car. She wore black heels, Greg noted, and a black pencil skirt. She had a white blouse and a black jacket over it. Overall a rather professional look, but the look on her face was one of worry. Or was supposed to be a look of worry, he thought. She obviously hadn't mastered that specific look yet, or maybe Greg was just paranoid. He probably was just paranoid, he decided. But he was still sure that she was faking it, whatever 'it' was. He got no further in his musings, as she saw him where he stood patiently waiting by the largest door, the double doors they used when they brought in the horses from outside. He had the previously discarded broom in his hand, he had grabbed it almost unconsciously on his way out and was glad that he had done so, so it seemed like he had been busy tidying the place up.

"Hello, how can I help you ma'am? I'm afraid Mr. Harley isn't in at the moment."

He kept his voice even, friendly and slightly curious, as he held her eyes and fired off a small but cordial smile.

"I don't know who Harley is, and I'm not looking for him," the blonde said in a small voice, her eyes darting around, she chewed her bottom lip in a gesture that seemed rehearsed, meant to be endearing and worried, and many men probably found it attractive. Greg blinked, slowly. Harley was the owner and trainer of these stables. Most people did not just get lost here, they found this place because they wanted to find him. He blinked again, slowly and owlishly on purpose, making sure to seem as confused as possible, and he tilted his head slightly to the right to complete the look.

"Eh, you're not?" He asked and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking like a confused stable hand who had no idea what to do next.

"I'm actually looking for my brother," she continued, one hand making its way to a pocket on her jacket and she fished up a photograph, "have you seen him somewhere here?"
Greg took the photo, it was maybe not an old photo, but it was well-used, wrinkled and worn. The photo was of a boy, maybe somewhere between seven and ten, with dark curly hair and icy blue eyes and a pout on his face. There was a hand on his head, ruffling his curls, and the boy held onto a pale blue shirt with his right hand, the other person was not in the picture – but had originally been, had the picture not been cropped.

"Not seen any kids around here," Greg answered, his voice slightly surprised and he gave back the photograph after having quick look at it.

"Are you sure?" She insisted.

"Yeah, how would a kid get out here? If he'd been in this area maybe he'd take a bus somewhere. There's a stop.. uh.. I dunno, a few miles that way." He vaguely gestured to the northeast.

The woman looked him over, and Greg plastered a helpful smile on his face, and the hand that had gestured went to rest at the base of his neck, he scratched there and looked at the woman, making sure to look sorry that he couldn't help her. He probably fooled her, her blue eyes had glanced over him, measuring him, making sure he told her the truth. Which of course, he didn't, but Greg could be a very good liar if he felt the need for it. The woman sighed, quite theatrically, and dug into her other pocket, took out a card and gave it to Greg.

"If you see him… call me please? I'll make it worth your while," she purred charmingly, somewhat seductively, a promise in those heavily lidded eyes and in the slight smirk playing on shiny ruby red lips. Greg suddenly wondered if she was a so called 'honey pot,' and he was rather glad that he was gay and not moved in the least by her moves. Also, he thought, if she truly had been looking for her brother, would she really start flirting with a random guy?

"Absolutely, ma'am," he answered honestly and gave her a look of wonder, as if he couldn't believe his luck. She winked at him as she turned around and walked back to the car. Greg kept his eyes on the car, and caught a look at the driver when she opened the door, but just a quick glance. Darkly dressed male, dark sunglasses, and then she slammed the door and the car started and with a screech it took off. That looked what I'd imagine the Secret Service to look like, Greg thought as his hazel eyes followed the car and the small smoky cloud it left in its wake. What have I gotten myself into and what have they done to scare you so, kiddo?