The next day, after some much needed rest, Greg read all he could on wolves, taking advantage of the fact that Sherlock had found the missing kid while he was wallowing in a dark hole, not even needing his damn picture of the floorboards in the end. One day, contrary to what Donovan claimed, they would be standing over Sherlock's dead body, and Greg would be the one who put it there, out of sheer frustration with the annoying git.

However, as helpful as Google was being, his research didn't yield much results. His unexpected rescuer might be a wolf. It sure looked a hell of a lot like the ones in his browser, but he couldn't be sure. He wished he'd thought of taking a picture of it with the stolen phone. Speaking of which... Donovan knocked on his door.

"Miss Davis here to see you," she announced and he waved for her to send her in.

"I didn't know Scotland Yard took care of stolen phones," Miss Davis said in lieu of a greeting, then plopped herself down in one of the chairs.

"Yes, well, the circumstances might have been a bit peculiar, right?"

"You mean the naked man? Yes, that was rather unexpected, wasn't it? Is he like a serial-flasher phone-snatcher? It startled me so much, I didn't even think of going after him. Did you catch him?"

Greg frowned at her, not only because she asked questions without waiting for answers, but also because it didn't make sense. He'd been expecting to hear about a wolf, or at the very least, a very big and scary dog, not a naked man.

"Is this your phone?" he asked her.

He did his best not to snort with derision as he slid the phone towards her, because he had thought it belonged to a teenage girl, not a woman well into her thirties. Anyone would have made the same assumption. Well, maybe not Sherlock, but he didn't count.

"Yes!" she exclaimed and reached out for it eagerly, then grimaced as she looked at her blackened fingers. "It's all dirty. What happened to it?"

"That's my fault," Greg said sheepishly. "I dusted it for prints and it was a bit dirty to begin with when I found it. I had to use it to phone the police too. I hope that's alright with you?"

"Sure," she said with a shrug.

"Can you tell me what happened then, when your phone was stolen?"

"Well…" she drew out, eyes flicking upwards as she thought back. "I was a bit drunk, to be honest, so it's kind of hazy."

Greg growled. Just his luck.

"I was walking back from the pub, actually. It's not far from where I live, so I didn't take a cab. I was chatting with my friend Emma on the phone about this guy I met, and then this man just runs right past me, snatches my phone out of my hand and disappears again," the woman smiled at him, not coy or humorous, more the vicious sort. "Completely starkers. Like I said: I didn't try running after him, not in my heels and it took me a while to understand what had just happened."

"Could you describe him?"

"He was hot," she answered, nodding emphatically.

Greg did his best not to roll his eyes and waited patiently for her to continue but she apparently thought that was a good enough description.

"Size? Weight? Hair colour? Anything?" he asked, his tone more stern than before. Even he could tolerate only so much stupidity before he snapped.

"Uhm...well. I wasn't really looking at his face if you see what I mean…" She closed her eyes briefly, as witnesses often did when they tried recalling details, so he waited her out. "Not that tall, I think, but nice muscles. No tan though, shame. Oh, and he had light hair. Blond maybe. And cut short. Uhm… no, that's all. It was dark and it happened so fast, you know?"

Greg gave her a reassuring smile and a nod of understanding.

"Did you see or hear a dog around too? A large one?" he asked.

"No. No, I didn't. Why? Is that important?"

"No, probably not.'

Greg thanked her for her time, closed the door and pinched the bridge of his nose. He'd wanted to understand how his wolf has managed to steal a phone and he found himself with a naked man on his hands instead. The mystery just got more… mysterious. Had the wolf stolen the phone from the naked man? How often could a single phone get stolen in one night?

Greg checked the Met's reports for complaints about a naked man fitting the rather vague description. There were a few, but none of them were in the habit of stealing phones and were usually the result of a drunken night out ending on a stupid dare. What was more surprising were the calls they'd gotten for sightings of a wolf or wolf howls, but they had apparently not been taken seriously. No wonder. Greg wouldn't have either just yesterday, but he knew better now.

He twirled around on his chair once, looking at the mound of paperwork waiting to be filed. Nope, not gonna happen today. He grabbed his coat instead and strode across the office.

"Where're you going?" Donovan called at his back.

"Out! Call if you need me!"

Once Greg had parked his car in the exact same spot he had the night before, he looked at the run down house, the unkempt garden and the park sprawling behind it, unsure how he should proceed. How did you go about finding a wolf? Tracking? He doubted it would be the same technique as for humans. He scratched his stubble and shrugged before heading for the house. It took him a few minutes to find the first paw prints, large and heavy in the soft ground that had been flowerbeds years ago. It wasn't easy following them through the grass, harder ground, over rocks, but out of sheer determination and by circling and backtracking a lot, he managed to follow the trail, and was rather proud of his progress until he heard a growl. He hadn't thought this far, truth be told. The wolf had been affectionate last night and he hadn't thought it might be different this time. Was he trespassing on his territory or something? He'd read wolves were a bit peculiar about that. Greg crouched and peered into the growling shrub.

"Hey, there. It's me," Greg said. "The klutz who fell down the hole? I'm not going to hurt you."

The growling stopped immediately and the shrubs shook before parting, the gigantic wolf stepping out. God, he'd forgotten how big it was. Definitely bigger than those on the internet, and much prettier.

"Good boy," he cooed, extending a hand, and paused. "Or girl?"

He didn't know, but doubted the wolf would welcome him looking between its legs right now either.

"Listen, it's not safe for you to stay here. You don't have a collar and there's already been sightings of you around the area. Animal control might get wind of it eventually and I'm not sure how they'd deal with something like you, because you don't really look like a dog, you know?"

Greg paused, realizing he was talking to an animal, trying to convince it to follow him. But he was intelligent, he'd brought him a phone when he needed one, after he'd told him he needed one… Greg huffed and pushed himself back on his feet, took the couple of steps separating them and patted the wolf's fur.

"I'd forgotten you were so soft," he said with a fond smile. "Guess I can't convince you to come out of the cold, eh? Probably don't need to with that great fur coat of yours."

The wolf nudged his hand and licked it. Greg chuckled. He liked talking to the wolf. Molly said she talked to her cats, and he knew Sherlock talked to his skull. He'd even caught Mrs Hudson talking to the suspicious looking plants on her window sill once. Surely talking to his wolf wasn't all that bad. At least, it was smart.

"Want to come live with me? I could use a flatmate. And someone to fetch me phones when I fall down holes. You'll have to pretend to be a dog though."

The wolf yipped. It was a strange sound to come out of such a foreboding animal. Greg looked at it to find its ears drooped and its tongue lolling out giving it a ridiculous expression that made him laugh out loud, holding his sides.

"Christ... Is that… Is that your imitation of a dog?" Greg asked.

The wolf wagged its tail, adding to its "I'm just a nice doggy!" impression.

"Oh, God! It is!" he chuckled.

Greg suddenly stopped and turned to look at it again.

"You really do understand me, don't you?"

The wolf gave up its pretence and just stared back with those too-human blue eyes.

"Don't worry. It's okay if you do. It's kind of cool, actually. I won't tell anyone though, that might get me locked up, copper or not. I already knew you were special anyway, what with the phone…" he drifted off, thinking of how he'd gotten it, but shook his head. It's not as if the wolf could tell him. "Besides, one good turn deserves another. You saved me, I'll keep you safe. Deal?"

The wolf yipped again, apparently his way of saying "yes". He wondered what a "no" would sound like. The wolf followed him back to his car, looking much like they were just a man and his dog out for a walk in the park. Then it climbed on the passenger seat and stared at the seat belt for a moment before curling on the seat. Greg shook his head. He'd never seen such a strange animal before.

Greg noted more and more strange incidents when the animal settled at home with him. It would watch telly with him, actually watch it, not just curl up next to him and sleep like he'd seen other pets do, but stare attentively at the screen when the show was on, then disregard it entirely during commercials. It would even make a sort of huffing sound that could be laughter at times. Stranger yet, it stared at his newspaper as if reading it. His eyes moving to the right, back to the left then to the right… Greg pretended not to notice, afraid it would spook his wolf away, because as bizarre as it was, he liked having him around the house, it felt less empty and more like an actual home. He had someone to welcome him back, and someone to talk to about his day. Now he knew why Molly had cats, and why Sherlock had a skull, which was as close to a pet as he could keep since he probably couldn't keep a pet alive even if he had wanted to, what with the way he got distracted by cases.

However, even Greg snapped on one of his rare days off when he found his wolf sitting on his kitchen chair, drinking his tea. Well, more like lapping at his tea, but wolves did not drink tea. Of that, he was absolutely certain. He even looked like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie-jar and dipped his head as if apologizing.

"That's okay," Greg said, keeping his voice low and soft, always afraid to scare the wolf off. "I'll just make an extra cup with mine next time. Milk and sugar?"

The wolf yipped and bounded over the table to lick his face, sending cup, newspaper and chairs flying everywhere. Greg laughed and pushed the great lump of fur off his chest, then picked himself up, rubbing his sore bum and straightening the chair.

"You don't realize how strong you are, eh? Still think you're a little pup?"

The wolf made that huffing laugh and bounded around the table once to stop with a headbutt to his knees that almost sent him toppling to the floor all over again. Laughing, he put the wolf in a headlock and they ended up lounging on the floor.

He came to a decision then. What had been nagging at the back of his mind for so long demanded to be examined and solved, however ludicrous it seemed. His rational mind and detective instinct did not always mesh well, and sometimes, one had to give in to the other

"But seriously," Greg said, crouching in front of the wolf to look it in the eyes. "You're not really a wolf, are you? Or not only a wolf."

The wolf stilled and stared at him.

"Either I'm right or I'm going insane, so you might as well fess up."

The wolf titled his head to the side, his startling blue eyes not leaving his.

"My theory right now is along the lines of a werewolf, except for the whole murdering frenzy thing, obviously, since you didn't eat me, so how much worse can it be?"

The wolf took a step back and then it was actually rising on its two hind legs and… changing. Growing upwards, thinning, the fur pulled inwards, leaving bare skin behind… Greg scrambled back up, his breathing catching at the sight. Okay… so he had just said he believed in the werewolf theory, but seeing it, actually seeing his wolf transforming into… Yep, there was the naked blond guy Miss Davis had described. It was too much all of a sudden, it was just...

"Just a bit worse," the man replied, his voice raspy.

Greg fell back in the chair he'd just picked up and stared wide eyed at the man's retreating back while he snatched the blanket draped on the sofa's back, and he might have uttered a few curses until the man came back and sat on the floor in front of him.

"Only got a few minutes in this form, so if you have questions, better be quick about it."

"What are you?" The question was immediate. He had been wanting, needing to know for a while now.

"Was a man. Normal. Crazy old woman turned me into the wolf."

"But that's... impossible."

The man shrugged.

"How long ago?"

"Over three years, I think. Hard to keep track of time sometimes."

"Fuck."

"Yep."

Greg stared at him because this was crazy, and fantastic, and still a bit unbelievable. It was like finding a dragon or something. A very sad dragon.

"What's your name? I mean, do you have family or something? Someone you want me to contact?"

"John Watson," he paused at hearing his own name. "No, no more family-"

The man, John, whimpered suddenly and doubled over, his forehead almost touching the tiled floor of his kitchen. He looked in pain, but in a matter of seconds, he was a wolf again. Greg hurried over, his hands gripping the familiar soft fur in a hug, finding the gesture easy although he wouldn't have dared to hug him in his human shape, which didn't make much sense if he thought about it, since they were the same person.

"I'm sorry, John. I had no idea."

He didn't know what he'd been expecting exactly, but not this. Poor guy. No one deserved such a fate. He couldn't even begin to imagine the solitude he must have felt. And the fear, the hopelessness...

The wolf whined and fell asleep, wrapped in the blanket with his head on Greg's lap.

The wolf, John, slept right through the day, which explained why he didn't transform often. Going from one shape to the other seemed both painful and exhausting. Not to mention this time out put him in danger if he was outside, completely defenseless. He could understand how it wasn't worth the effort or the risk when it only lasted a few minutes. While John slept, Greg went about preparing breakfast, beans on toast for him, a rare-cooked steak for John, as well as two cups of tea with milk and sugar.

"Hey, sleepy-head," Greg greeted cheerily when John trotted out of the bedroom on his soft pads, because yes, the wolf usually joined him on the end of his bed, curling up neatly on himself, and no, Greg didn't mind, not even after he got confirmation he was actually a werewolf of sorts. Or would that be a wereman since he was a wolf most of the time and not the other way around? He wished he could have talked longer to John, not that they couldn't, but it was rather one sided.

Greg hesitated as he placed the tea on the table. He glanced at John.

"Do you want to eat at the table? It's a bit weird serving you food on the floor now."

John did something that looked a lot like an eyeroll and tapped his paw twice on the tiled floor in front of him.

"Yeah, I suppose you are a bit of a messy eater," Greg teased and avoided the playful nip at his calf, crooning in victory: "Ha! Too slow! And you call yourself a wolf."

John huffed and turned to his breakfast, literally wolfing his steak down. After that, Greg had to suffer through breakfast with his wolf just staring at him, he wasn't even reading the newspaper today and Greg had the feeling he was up to something. Finally, he drank the last of his tea and glanced outside: it didn't look like it would rain but it was definitely getting colder.

"I'm off!" he called back but was startled when he found John right behind him. "I left the back door propped open in case you want to go for a run. Be careful though, okay?"

He patted the thick fur around the wolf's neck after he'd bundled up in his winter gear and opened the door when John bolted through his legs.

"John? What the hell?" he muttered when he regained his balance. "Hey! Get back here!"

But John stood at attention beside his car's door and ignored him completely. Greg locked his front door, John could go around through the garden to get back in, the git.

"What do you think you're doing?" he asked, shivering when a gust of wind hit him full in the face. "I'm going to be late."

John looked at him and then the car.

"You can't come with me," Greg said with a scowl. "I know Sherlock's always going on about how unobservant we are, but I'm sure someone's going to notice there's a ruddy big wolf following me around."

John did his dog imitation, ears flopping down, tongue lolling out and tail wagging. That always got a smile out of him.

"You practiced in front of the mirror, didn't you?" Greg accused, crossing his arms on his chest, both to show his disapproval and to fight off the chill. "Can you keep that up all day?"

John yipped and sniffed at the door again.

"Oh, alright," Greg said as he opened the door to let him in, feeling like he didn't have all that much of a choice in the matter. John might have simply run after his car if he refused, the stubborn git. "But I'm stopping by a pet shop to get you a disguise since you're going undercover."

Greg smiled when John growled next to him, then started the car.

"Oh, you can growl all you want, but that's non-negotiable. I'm not taking any risks of losing you."

That seemed to ease John a bit and he merely sulked for the rest of the way.