Sherlock slumped on his lab's couch. He should have gone home like the other doctors, but Sherlock needed to think- he always did. John was too risky to be left alone, even while asleep, without Sherlock at least on stand-by. He clicked open a browser on his computer, modifying a motion capture alert system to text him if anything vastly changed. Sherlock worked really well with his computers, and he had a few tricks up his sleeve just in case some things went wrong.
What was going wrong, currently? Maybe it was the fact that John wasn't as mutated as Sherlock preceded him to be. Sure, the signs were there, Sherlock just needed connections, proof. He picked his notes up, scanning them.
Patient Name: DR. JOHN WATSON
Cause of Containment/Study: Blood cells appear to be inhuman, even though sample was directly taken from patient.
Additions: Attack on unit (only survivor) may be connected. Not sure at current moment. Left shoulder currently wounded, in sling and healing.
J was originally in a coma, not sure if medically induced, but woke up several hours after admittance to make-shift hospital base.
J - blood was received about said time, doctors saw the cells. Called Mycroft... idiots.
J arrives- said to be unconscious for at least an hour or more, awakes in a few minutes after given to me. Accelerated rates at processing sedatives evident.
J seems to act very defensively towards me, as if an animal trapped in a corner. He's in a box so I'll give him that. Holding himself together well, surprisingly.
Eyes seem to change hue if I stare too long, not sure if lighting or just me.
God, someone left me fish and chips... how annoying.
J says the lighting bothers him. Too bright. I dimmed them down to where I can barely see without turning any lamps in my lab on.. He seemed better afterwards.
Heightened senses. Where is this leading to?
A R SE
Heightened senses indeed! Can even tell what letters I'm writing!
Need to see bodies physical reactions to functions such as running.
Sherlock stopped reading, for him, this is where the notes lost their flare. Sure, the rest was about how John's body seemed to handle the physical perfectly, with little strain, but Sherlock was too busy for that. No, he needed to know about John's biology. Mycroft wanted the personal facts. The fact he wanted to locate the source of whatever John contracted made Sherlock question his motives. His brother was a government man, not a scientist. He didn't respect how things were in nature like Sherlock did, rather he wanted to control them. Manipulate them into creating abominations not in the name of science, but war and politics. So military.
If Mycroft were to actually find the source- he'd search relentlessly no doubt and was probably trying now, Sherlock knew that something bad was going to come out of it. It was obvious whatever John had was transmittable to Sherlock. It carried all the necessary signs. No physical abnormalities to the naked eye, only present in so far in blood, raised physical abilities as if to catch prey and transmit it. However frightening most people thought it might be, Sherlock found it to be intriguing. Mycroft, however, more than likely saw it as a door to a super soldier. One that could supply the Queen and her parliament endless amounts of victory and unrestricted praise and fear from the world. A weapon.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Always with Mycroft.
"Such an arse..." Sherlock mumbled, throwing his notes on his desk. If anyone deserved to be in a cage, it be Sherlock's brother for no doubt. Powerless, no politics to ease his way from his glass box.
In fact, Sherlock pitied John. Something Sherlock didn't feel much here. In fact, not many doctors and workers here did. They realized they had a job and did it- however they were supposed to. Even if it meant Anderson worked on making animals furs a different color than inherited, or Sally from trying to sneak off with him to have a little fun in the linen closet. However impractical, that was all Sally was useful for. Even then she sucked in Sherlock's mind.
John however, was different. He was a human. He wasn't some kitten that Sherlock had tried to give purple eyes to, or some bird that Sherlock gave a neon green beak and pink feathers- all of that, was for entertainment. Harmless, yet colorful. John though, wasn't like them. He had a voice, opinions, was just like Sherlock before whatever happened to him. Those animals had been bred for their purpose here, John, was just unlucky.
This bothered Sherlock. If something so normal as John could be corrupted enough to get put in here, what else could happen? More people, children no less? Mycroft probably wouldn't bat an eyelid or expression as he threw them in here for testing. He did the same with John, in fact called him a present while assigning Sherlock to it.
It was extremely bothersome indeed, for Sherlock to start thinking who the real mutant was.
John, or his elder brother.
The moon hung over John's head. He was in the desert again, the night wrapping it's cold talons around his wounded body just like they had before. He couldn't move, he could only stare at the ever darkening sky. The stars seemed to blot out, the moon overtaking them as it seemed to race towards John.
Closer and closer it got, until John could feel the very pull in his veins. So primal and feral the burning ache was.
John shot up, body covered in sweat and his one free hand shaking. What kind of nightmare was that? To be controlled or consumed by the moon?
"Glad to know that's over for you."
"Sherlock?" John said, practically gasping.
Sherlock didn't turn on the lights, just walked towards John and gave him water through the transfer box, "You were having a nightmare. Saw it on the cameras."
John took the cup, gulping down it's cooling contents before returning his gaze towards Sherlock once more, "I'm sorry to have woken you..."
"It's fine," Sherlock shrugged, "I don't sleep much anyways."
"You don't?"
Sherlock shook his head, "Afraid it messes with up here," Sherlock pointed to his head, "along with eating and other tedious things."
"Tedious?"
Sherlock nodded, "Most human needs are to me. This body, nothing but transport. Doesn't matter to me, just what I can get out of it."
"Sounds like you have a high love for your health."
"I take care of it when needed, I just avoid it until necessary."
John stared at Sherlock for a moment. How this man became a doctor, let alone given to him under his care, was beyond John. If Sherlock didn't care about himself, what would become of John? He'd more than likely waste away here in the glass cell faster than meant to. Maybe it be a favor, not a healthy or safe one, but a favor- in a way.
Sherlock rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to let you starve or anything... I told you, I'm not cruel."
John found himself glaring at Sherlock, "Doesn't mean everyone else isn't."
"Valid point." Sherlock turned, "I've been wondering about several people lately."
"Says the man who works in genetically altering animals and nature for the government."
Sherlock stopped, and turned, "I'm not here for that. I was forced here just like you. I didn't start out wanting bunnies named Bluebell to glow. No, I told you what I wanted."
John took a small, ever so small, step back, best still held his ground, "Consulting detective, how modest."
"I'm sorry, helping solve murders isn't very helpful is it?"
"That's not what I meant and you know it."
Sherlock chuckled sarcastically, "Sure."
John narrowed his gaze towards the man, "Besides, what do you know about being trapped? I'm here in this fucking thing while you can roam around and be free. I don't give a damn if you were forced into this. I was too, more so than you."
Sherlock glared at John, his breathing steady and deep. His cold fixation on the constricting pupils of John's eyes. They stayed that way for was what felt like an hour, John giving up when he saw Sherlock not even moving and finding the argument proceeding pointless. He was exhausted. He could sense the satisfaction as John went to his mattress and settled down. Sherlock walked away, leaving John in the room alone. He took a deep breath, and let sleep take him again.
When John awoke, the lights were on in the lab and there was shuffling from all around. As John sat up, he saw Sherlock walking out from his lab, mug in hand and taking a sip as he went over to a cart.
"What's going on now?"
Sherlock turned his head, "I'm going to need some blood samples. Along with saliva and a few hairs. I hope you don't mind cooperating with me."
John shrugged, "Here."
John pulled a few of his hairs and set them in the box, waiting for Sherlock to come and do the exchange. In a few minutes, Sherlock had a swab from John's mouth, and a syringe filled with John's blood.
"Thank you."
"Welcome." John smiled, setting himself back onto the mattress to think more. What else was there for him to do?
John could smell the cleaners on the floors and walls, the dried paint, and the smell of- what was that? It smelled of trees, a mixture of pine and deciduous leaves and musk, forest. John found his eyes widening, and could even feel as the dilated to nearly full blown. He got up, trying to find the source of the gorgeous scent. Something more now, a small tang of honey and wildflower. Dirt and water. It smelled heavenly. John took lungs full of it, soaking it into his body and memory.
"What are you doing?" Sherlock asked, looking out of his lab's doorway.
John kept searching, "I smell something- something I just- can you smell it? Smells like trees or something?"
John heard Sherlock sniff, "Nothing in here smells like outside... You like lemon cleaners?"
"No! That's not it- it's..." John started to pinpoint it, his eyes followed where his nose led him, straight into Sherlock's confused gaze.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
"What is it?"
John held his breath, "I uh- ignore me... It's nothing."
John waited until Sherlock rolled his eyes and returned to examine the samples he'd just received. Before John knew it, he was taking lungs worth of that smell in again. John never considered himself homosexual, or bisexual but on rare occasions. Sherlock was obviously that special occasion as John felt his body reacting merely to the man's scent.
"Shower's open if you need it!" Sherlock called out.
"Thanks!" John slowly made his way towards the small, closed off space.
When the hot water hit John's back, it was heaven sent. His aching muscles in his shoulder easing a little to the heat. John studied it, seeing that it'd healed quicker than he was expecting it to. Maybe the fact he was in such a clean area that his body could focus on fixing the damage. His mind eased as the water ran over his body, taking the traces of Afghanistan with it.
He sighed, leaning his face into the the blessed stream of water. The soap provided smelt plain, bland. Overall a boring scent. John found himself missing that smell from earlier a little. It called out to John, a part of him he never knew existed- one that wanted to just find the nearest forest and sprint. John thought of trees and their dense underbrush. Blurring by as he maneuvered his way through. Next thing he knew, his mind was on the moon, and John began to feel it's pull. It started as a burn, then John realized with utter horror that is was beginning to grow into an inferno. His bones pulled, his muscles reformed. John's mind sort of left his body in the pain, and only until it was over did he realize with looking downwards what mistake he had just made.
Sherlock watched as the blood of John Watson spread as he pressed to two slides together. John was currently taking a shower right now, so Sherlock had time. He placed the sample underneath the microscope and examined.
He'd seen why the doctors freaked. The blood cells that Sherlock saw wasn't human- but strongly resembled something Sherlock had seen before. He opened a browser on his computer, looking at images of blood cells that looked familiar. Finally, out stood Sherlock's answer. The cells in the microscopic photo matched the ones from John's blood exactly.
The answer was a shock.
Canis Lupis.
John staggered around a bit. He wasn't used to his body yet, no. He realized that maybe what he'd seen in the desert wasn't so much of a mind trick- but a horrific truth to something John thought to be a fairy tale.
He realized that now for sure he was going to be locked up forever, a werewolf? He wouldn't even be able to look out of the lab.
Wait, werewolves were only supposed to change around the full moon, right? So that must make him some type of genetic shapeshifter or-
"John!" Sherlock called out.
John froze, he couldn't answer. No, not like this. It come out as nothing but dog. John waited for what was inevitable.
"John?" Sherlock pressed the button for John to exit it the shower, as the door opened. Steam came out even before John moved a muscle.
It was so hard not to whimper or whine as John tried his hardest to not obey.
Next things John knew, the shower's water turned off and his screen of cover was going to literally evaporate into thin air. John looked around, no way out or place to hide. Perfect.
"Holy-!" Sherlock yelled, dropping his clipboard onto the floor with a clatter, "This is-..."
Impossible. Not meant to happen. Somewhat ironic to say barking mad.
Sherlock ran up to the glass, staring down in disbelief as John padded forward. He made a whine-like noise to agree. He sat down, and started to lick his soaked fur without thinking. Sherlock just watched silently.
"I can't let them get a hold of this," Sherlock said, rushing into his lab, "they'll ruin so much."
John tilted his head, giving Sherlock a short questionable yip.
Sherlock came rushing back in, "We won't have much time, John. They're coming to collect you and do god know's what."
John's ears flattened against his head, he whimpered. Fear began to grow in his stomach as Sherlock started rushing to gather things together.
"I know, but more than likely Mycroft is on his way down here, I won't let them take you, okay? I promise."
Sherlock held his hand to the glass, his eyes clouded with tension as John placed his paw against the glass back in understanding. John saw his blood sample tucked tightly against Sherlock's chest.
He should have declined.
"I'll take care of it."
As soon as Sherlock finished his sentence, men came rushing into the room. Armed men, all in black armor that looked similar to anti-chemical suits. They all were on guard, watching John as if there were no barrier. He found himself growling, slowly pushing himself against the glass of the shower. Teeth bared.
"Nice to see you, Mycroft."
A man came walking in, using an umbrella like a cane. His face was stone as he approached Sherlock with a fake smile.
"Hello brother."
Brother?
Things just got interesting...
"You promised this would be mine and mine alone." Sherlock spat coldly.
Mycroft's fake smile grew a little, "Things change. Looks like Mr. Watson has here too."
Sherlock shook his head, "Doesn't matter, you're not taking him."
"Grown sentimental, have we?" Mycroft did a motion of tsk tsk, "Not in your style brother."
"I don't care. I know what you're going to do if you take him."
Mycroft raised a brow, "Do you now?"
Sherlock took a second to glance back at John, still huddling to the glass for his life, "You're going to experiment. Now you know that it can do this to a regular human body, you'll try to harvest it and transplant it. Super soldiers. In the end, you'll wind up killing him."
"How do you know that? Besides, we'll treat Mister Watson here like a royal. No harm done."
"Not yet."
John pressed himself even further to the glass, muscles tensed and eyes darting. If what Sherlock said were true, John's days were limited. More so than before.
The men were still watching John closely, guns at their sides ready. If John were even to get loose, human or wolf wise, he'd be shot on the spot. About this moment he wished he died on that damn sand alongside his unit. He thought dying before was worse- but now faced with the fact he was going to be treated like a fucking cure to a weapon's problem, he realized his dead comrades were lucky.
"I'm not letting you take him."
Mycroft shook his head, "Look, I let you work on this by yourself before we saw this coming. He's government property, not yours. Hand over the vile, Sherlock."
Sherlock shook his head, "No."
"Sherlock..." Mycroft tapped his umbrella on the ground, "I have no patience with you today. Hand over the vile. We're taking John away and that's that. Now, give it."
John saw Sherlock tense. For a second, John realized he wasn't the only one trapped. Sherlock was right all along. He saw how Sherlock kept fighting to get the right thing to win, only for his brother to stomp it out with politics and mere force. John now understood Sherlock's hate for government.
Sherlock looked towards the syringe of John's blood and sighed. This reasoning with his obtuse brother was a dead end. When Sherlock was faced with one, he'd find a new route. He saw the crimson liquid collected within, something once so ordinary now fought over like the last piece of food for a race. Sherlock looked towards John. His sandy blond figure was still pressed up into the glass, deep blue eyes watching him. They screamed fear and Sherlock knew John would die if he didn't do anything.
Maybe they both did.
"Last time Sherlock," Sherlock didn't lift his gaze from the item in his hand, "hand it over!"
"No."
Sherlock grabbed the syringe and shoved it into his forearm, he bit back the pain and slowly raised his gaze to his brother. As soon as he met the constricted irises, he started to inject John's blood into him. He watched as the men started to prepare themselves for Sherlock to try and attack, guns now raised towards him. It wasn't the first time he was at the end of a barrel, and certainly it wouldn't be the last.
"W-What have you done?" Mycroft's voice was hoarse, rare considering it was usually monotone and annoying.
Sherlock threw the empty syringe on the floor, shattering the glass and sending them back, "Doing what's right. Try and pick it up and you may get cut. Could be traces."
"You're completely mad!"
"No," Sherlock said, looking back to John, "I'm just human."
Sherlock saw the pain in John's eyes, he slowly got out of his corner and made his way to the glass where Sherlock stood. He whimpered, pawing at it. The room was silent as Sherlock placed his hand back on the glass again, and he turned his gaze towards his brother.
He waited a moment, seeing the emotions fly through his facial muscles, "John is a human being, not a test subject for your little puppet games. He's no military weapon or incentive. You treat him as if he's nothing but dirt. You treat everything here as such. I don't give a damn about this lab, I don't give a damn what's going to happen to my blood now- all I know, is that if this man has more of a heart than you do- maybe he's not a mutant after all."
Mycroft took a deep breath, "Tranq him."
Sherlock felt the dart hit him in his arm before he could react.
"Tranq him too."
He could hear John's whimpers grow into growls as the edges of his vision darkened and consumed him whole.
John awoke to a strong ache in his head. His first thought was if he died. He found himself still in his wolf form, so he bit down on his front leg to substitute as a pinch. It did nothing but make his arm hurt. John decided he was in fact living, and looked up, trying to figure out where he was.
It was just like before, except the room was bigger now. Still see-through and imprisoning. John stood up, his body aching. The last he remember before the sedatives wore off was Sherlock falling to the floor and the dart hitting his arm.
Sherlock.
John found him lying on the floor on his side, his clothes from before switched to the ones John had before- the lab basic. John listened closely for a heartbeat, it faintly fluttering around Sherlock's chest. John sighed with relief.
"I understand what you mean now."
John tilted his head, barking an inquisitive yip.
"The senses. This headache is atrocious."
John walked forward and nuzzled Sherlock's neck, asking "are you okay?".
Sherlock nodded, eyes closed, "I'm fine. I can hear the worry in your breaths, stop that. No need to get all upset over me."
John laid down beside Sherlock's back, placing his head on his paws as he sighed. This room wasn't much different than the one before, white and plain. It still smelled of the same cleaners. In fact, John could smell the exotic scent from before and found that he was relaxing.
"What's that smell?" Sherlock asked, "It wasn't here before. Not the tree scent you were telling me about before- in fact I can't smell it. "
John tried his best to do an imitation of a shrug.
"It's so- interesting."
John took another deep breath, nothing but his favorite mix of the forest scent and lemon bleach. He realized Sherlock was sniffing the air, and he turned towards John, pupils blown.
"I have no idea what it is, but when I find it, I'm going to memorize every part of it."
Sherlock got up, walking around the room, beginning to mumble to himself, "Smells like tea, sweet tea, and milk with a drop of sugar water... Hmm, a small tad of honey and vanilla extract. Is that pear or peaches? And strawberry! Smells like a delicious fruit stand of tea!"
John just watched, whatever Sherlock was describing was not in the air. He sniffed again, and nothing. While Sherlock kept trying to catalog whatever smell was tickling his fancy, John tried to focus on the task at hand. How in the hell was he supposed to turn into a human?
He remembered that it had happened in the shower, the thought of the moon filling his mind. He need to counter it- something opposite but still as powerful to change John back... The fact hit him and a light bulb went off. Of course! The sun!
John focused, bringing his mind only onto the sphere he hadn't seen in what felt like forever. He missed it's heat, the warm glow of it. Next thing John knew he was sitting in the floor with Sherlock still wrapped up in the scent.
Running over to the bed, John grabbed the clothing left for him and threw it on. When he turned, Sherlock was staring, "What?"
"Nothing just uhm... thinking."
"You have a lot of time for that."
Sherlock nodded, "Do you mind if I ask some questions?"
John shook his head, "Not at all, shoot."
"What was the scent you were talking about earlier?"
John blinked, "What?"
"The scent," Sherlock looked away for a second, "describe it to me."
"Well it-" John took a deep breath, noting the small differences, "it was like a forest, a mixture of pine and other trees. I could smell the dirt and such. It's changed now... It seems like it has kind of musky tang to it like rock and wine. Why wine?"
Sherlock nodded as if to confirm his own thought, "I have no idea why we both can't smell the same thing- do you?"
John shook his head, "Not a clue."
"Well, while we're at it- what's it like to.. you know-"
"Change?"
Sherlock nodded, "I was wondering.. Considering you know."
"Of course." John rubbed the back of his neck, "It's painful, but you kinda zone out while it's happening. I can't truly recall what went on."
"How did you do it?"
John shrugged, "I thought of the moon.. it makes me upset and remember things I don't want to."
Sherlock started to pace again, "So it's triggered by an emotional response, or a negative memory. How did you change back?"
"I thought of the sun. I miss it."
John watched as Sherlock continued pacing, thinking to himself. John took a deep breath, and laid down on his mattress. Whatever John had, Sherlock had too. That was obvious. The fact was, why would Sherlock willingly inject himself with John's blood? This didn't add up to John- in fact it screamed aloud it's unbalance.
A man walked through the double doors of the lab smirking. As soon as John saw him, he felt that if he was still in wolf form his fur would have bristled. John could hear Sherlock stop pacing, a low rumble growing in his chest.
"Good to see you're awake pets!" John felt his shoulders tense as the man playfully tapped on the glass, "Having fun in there?"
"Did someone tell you if you played with a bull you'd get the horns?" John looked towards the doctor with a gaze that didn't hide his thoughts of the man.
He only laughed, "Touchy are we, now?"
Sherlock stepped forward, "What do you possibly want?"
"Samples obviously. All the ones you had previously you purposefully destroyed. Tell me, how does it feel to be on the other side of an experiment?"
Sherlock narrowed his glare, "You say that now. Just wait till later."
"Can't, sorry! I'm afraid I have to take John with me! We're going to let whatever in you incubate before we sample. Let it- mix." He gave a dark smile.
"You aren't taking John." Sherlock growled, John found Sherlock stepping towards him.
The doctor smiled, "Afraid we are. What, care about him do you?" He took a breath, and rolled his eyes a little, "I won't be surprised if you two wind up killing each other in there."
John saw the men from before coming in, guns raised. It seemed if they were going to literally shoot John to get the samples. Before John could move, he was grabbed by Sherlock and taken into the corner of the room farthest from them. The growl registered in John's ears before the wolf did.
"Oh! Seems like we hit a soft spot! I'll make sure you get some extra dog treats tonight, mutt."
The men inched forwards, and Sherlock lowered himself, ears flattening against the sides of his head as he let out a snarl. John could see it in his head, the bullets leaving the barrels and hitting Sherlock- killing him. He couldn't let that happen, no, not after Sherlock sacrificed his freedom and life by injecting John's blood into his arm. Oddly heroic as it might seem.
"I'll give samples willingly, okay?!" John shouted.
Everyone stilled.
Sherlock turned his head towards John, ears raising. His coat was curly like the ends of his dark hair. His eyes. They remained the same, the small spot of brown John admired still within the pigmentation. They seemed to soften, question his motives as why he was willing. A small voice in his head saying, "don't do it". John watched as the men lowered their guns just a little.
"If you dare try to do anything- I'll be having them mop your blood off the floor before you can think about doing it."
Sherlock whipped his head around, growling, teeth bared.
John got up and whispered to Sherlock, "I'll be fine, okay. Just relax. I don't think they're making me leave."
Yet.
John could hear the few whines from behind him as he walked forwards. He did the same for them as Sherlock, the swap of items through the box. Done in a matter of minutes. Sherlock was watching John closely the whole time as he gave the arrogant doctor his damned samples.
After they left, John returned his attention towards Sherlock, "Was that necessary?"
Sherlock nodded, and barked.
"You're happy now aren't you?"
Another nod and a yip.
John laughed, "Good to hear it... So, feel good to finally change?"
Sherlock tilted his head and made a small sound.
John rubbed his forehead, the encounter with that stupid doctor and the past few days seemed to drain him. He started to lay down when he heard a whine from in front of him.
"What?"
Sherlock raised a paw a pointed from John, to himself several times. He snorted in frustration after a few attempts.
"Want me to... change?"
Sherlock nodded.
What could be so bad? Besides, in wolf form the people seemed to avoid nearing him- and with the worsening headache that was beginning to foster itself, it would be a blessing. John thought of the moon, and opened his eyes to Sherlock sniffing his face- well, snout.
"You smell like you're sick." Sherlock said, sniffing John more.
"I do feel a rather heavy headache coming on..."
Sherlock leaned back, "What do you need? "
John thought for a moment through the growing pain, "Sleep I think..."
Sherlock nodded, leading John towards the corner from earlier, "If you aren't feeling well it would be best if I stay in my form so they don't come back. Sleep here. You probably don't like laying down on wolf hairs much."
The ache in John's head subsided as he curled up on the floor, he sighed a little at the relief. As he started to doze off, he felt Sherlock curl up beside him. John didn't care much, in fact, he was freezing. He was probably shivering to Sherlock. He only kept his eyes closed as nuzzled his body into the comfortable heat. The pain seemed to dull more. Sherlock yawned, and they both began to drift off.
