Chapter Summary:

After a shaky start to the morning, John and Sherlock head out for some much-needed shopping. We also get to learn a bit about Sherlock's past owners.

Chapter 3: The Shopping Trip

Sherlock woke the next morning extremely confused. He wasn't cold, he wasn't sore, nothing hurt, just a little dull throbbing. He wasn't tied up, he wasn't covered in bodily fluids, and there was no one yelling and kicking at him to wake up. Usually after a night with his owner he'd be so tired that he would almost pass out, but his owner always woke him bright and early, usually for some morning sex. That or he would be ordering Sherlock to prepare the breakfast. Now, the hybrid slowly sat up, he was on a bed, and not at the foot of it. Panic spiraled through him and he quickly whipped his head around, trying to see if his owner had caught him breaking the rules.

No one. The bed was empty except for him.

Sherlock's ears flicked and he looked down, suddenly realizing he's actually wearing something. The soft blue night gown brought back a wave of memories. John, the market place, he had been bought. Sherlock rubbed his eyes, slowly looking around the room once more now that sunlight streamed through the windows. No, not a dream, still here. But then, where's John?

As if on cue, the doctor walked in through the door, smiling and already dressed. He brought with him the scent of freshly cooked eggs and toast, along with...Sherlock took another sniff, bacon. Remembering the dinner from last night, Sherlock felt a small light of hope that perhaps John will allow him some of the food this morning too, he won't eat much, just a few bites.

"Morning, did you sleep well?"

Sherlock pushed back the covers and crawled on all fours over the mattress, meeting John at the edge of the bed. His tail swished behind him, eyes raking over the doctor. The short haired man looked better rested than yesterday, refreshed from a shower he had taken this morning, his hair was still a bit damp. Sherlock glanced at the clock on the bedside table and squeaked in surprise at the time. Eleven twenty three! He had slept almost to noon?! The hybrid couldn't remember a time he hadn't been woken up later than seven in the morning, and that was when his owner was feeling particularly kind. Sherlock's eyes widened pleadingly, instinct demanding he apologize in the hopes of not being punished.

"S-sir, I'm sorry, I didn't realize the time!"

John winced at the title and Sherlock realized belatedly he had slipped up. Quickly he tried to back track, his head dropping until his forehead was pressed against the bed, a sign of total submission.

"J-John..John, I'm sorry, please..."

The doctor's smile fell as he took in the sight before him. His heart ached seeing Sherlock react this way even after everything he had told Sherlock last night. Gently, he reached out and brushed his fingers through the hybrid's hair, hoping the familiar touch will calm him down.

"Sherlock, Sherlock, it's OK, shh, you didn't do anything wrong, it's OK."

The hybrid's body was shaking, curled up on the bed, but at least the rambling apologies had stopped. With a soft sigh, John sat himself down beside Sherlock, running a comforting hand along his back.

"Sherlock, look at me, it's OK, I'm not angry I promise. Just, look at me, please?"

For a moment more, Sherlock didn't move. John didn't pressure him, simply continued to stroke his back. Slowly, the hybrid peeked his eyes out from under his curls and John's breath caught in his throat. Sherlock's eyes were red, the remnants of tears still visibly on his cheeks. He had been so frightened that the hybrid had started crying. John wrapped an arm around over Sherlock's chest and pulled him up, sliding his other arm around the shaking hybrid's back. The doctor cradled Sherlock to his chest, pressing soft kisses to his temple.

"Oh, Sherlock...don't cry, please, don't cry," John whispered gently against the dark locks.

Sherlock clung to John's shirt, unable to stop the hiccuping tears.

"Please...John, I'll be good, I-I won't m-make a mistake again, I'll be good...d-don't send me back..."

"Shhh, shhh, you're not going back, you're not going anywhere, Sherlock, you're staying here with me. I said you're safe here, didn't I? I meant it, Sherlock, you are safe."

It took a while but finally John managed to get Sherlock's tears to stop. The hybrid still refused to let go of his shirt, but at least he wasn't crying anymore. John's kisses moved from Sherlock's temple to his hair, even going so far as to brush his lips over the soft ears. Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath at the feeling, digging in tighter against John. The doctor let him stay like that, uncaring as the minutes ticked by.

It wasn't until almost half an hour later that Sherlock untangled himself from John, looking up at him from beneath his lashes. John gave him a warm smile, using his thumb to wipe away the tear trails on the hybrid's face. He kissed Sherlock's forehead once more, wanting Sherlock to know that everything's OK.

"Are you all right, Sherlock? Do you feel OK?"

The hybrid sniffed and nodded, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

"You're...really not angry?"

John shook his head and moved his hand to rub at Sherlock's ears.

"No, not angry at all."

Sherlock's mouth tilted up in a small, hopeful smile and John matched it with a smile of his own. Carefully, John rubbed a hand over Sherlock's tummy.

"Are you hungry? I made breakfast...well, lunch now."

The furry ears flicked with interest and Sherlock's stomach answered with a growl. John laughed as the hybrid blushed, ducking his head.

"Come on, let's get you some food, yeah?"

Sherlock followed John eagerly into the kitchen, but to his surprise there was nothing on the table. Instead, the doctor led him past the kitchen and into the living room where he had set up two plates of buttered toast, eggs, bacon and two glasses of milk on the coffee table in front of the sofa. John sat down and pulled Sherlock into his lap making the hybrid mewl in surprise. Apparently John wasn't about to risk Sherlock insisting on kneeling on the floor today. He took one plate of food and set it down beside them before picking up a piece of toast with his fingers and holding it out for Sherlock. By now the food was only slightly warm, but Sherlock didn't mind, it still tasted quite delicious to him. Happily he munched on the offered toast, licking John's fingers when he finished.

John watched with amusement, the hybrid was eating as if toast was the most delicious thing he's ever eaten. A chilling thought suddenly struck the doctor and he hesitated to ask as he used the fork and picked up a piece of bacon, holding it up to Sherlock's mouth.

"Sherlock...your previous owners, they...they did feed you every day, right?"

Sherlock bit the bacon and mewled at the taste. Meat, he's only ever been given meat for really special occasions, like his birthday or Christmas, and afterwards he had always been expected to repay the kindness shown to him by his owner.

"No, not usually," Sherlock answered after he had swallowed the yummy bacon, "my first owner liked us slim. She was a fashion designer, and she liked using us to model her clothes during house parties, so she only fed us when it was absolutely necessary.

My second owner liked collecting hybrids and making us fight amongst ourselves, so almost every day after he came home from school he would set us upon one another. Winners got to eat, losers didn't. Sometimes he'd make us fight with the hybrids of his classmates, if we lost then it got really bad. He would get really angry, a few of his hybrids died from the beatings he gave them. I wasn't really much of a match for the others since I didn't have a lot of muscles built up, so most days I went without food, and I got a lot of broken bones for losing against his classmates' hybrids.

And my third owner, my last one, he...he was the one that had me trained for the bedroom. When he got me I was still untouched down there, but because of all the physical damage my price was low which was why he bought me. He liked overpowering me, feeling me struggle under him but unable to get away, so feeding me well didn't fit with his plans. Usually I got some scraps, if I was lucky I got actual feed. Sometimes he'd give me food, then after I had eaten he'd change his mind and force me to throw it all up. Later he found out that was a good way to train my gag reflex. It got to the point where if I ate more than a certain amount my stomach would physically reject it and I'd throw it up without needing any help."

Sherlock rattled off his history as if he was talking about what he did during his summer holiday. His tone was distant, eyes dull, but a few times he smiled bitterly at the memories.

John, on the other hand, felt like a raging ball of fury was simmering inside him. With each word Sherlock uttered he had the urge to hunt down the sadistic pieces of garbage and send them into the Thames, weighed down with cement. People actually starved their hybrids on purpose? Well, he supposed it shouldn't be such a surprise, if people could beat, rape and even kill their hybrids, starvation didn't seem like such a far stretch. Pulling Sherlock tight against him, John felt himself getting choked up imagining everything the hybrid had been through. He shook his head and took a deep breath, now wasn't the time to think about himself, he needs to take care of Sherlock.

The doctor looked at the plate of food then at Sherlock with concern.

"Is this too much food? Let me know if you can't eat anymore, you don't have to eat everything, OK?"

Sherlock shook himself out of his thoughts and smiled at John.

"OK. This...and last night's pasta...they're the best food I've ever eaten. Th-thank you," the hybrid's cheeks flushed pink.

John picked up some of the eggs on the fork and brought it to Sherlock's mouth, watching him take a testing bite.

"You're welcome...and we'll get you to try lots of other delicious foods from now on, Sherlock. If you'd like, we can get you some recipes and you can try cooking the foods you like yourself."

At that, Sherlock beamed up at John, feeling proud as he proclaimed, "I can cook. My last owner made me learn. I can cook for you, John, will you let me?"

John looked at the hybrid in surprise and then chuckled at the excitement in his voice.

"Yes, of course, as long as you want to, you may have free reign of the kitchen."

Sherlock purred with joy and took another bite.

Another hour later, both plates were emptied as were the glasses of milk. Sherlock managed to eat half a plate and John finished up the rest, feeling quite ravenous since they had skipped breakfast. The doctor sent Sherlock to wash up and change out of the night gown while he washed the dishes, preparing to go out for their shopping trip. Aside from clothes and shoes for Sherlock, John added a collar, mobile and some personal grooming products, along with some cooking ingredients to his need-to-get list. Mrs. Hudson had also asked him to grab her some tea and biscuits the next time he went out, he'll have to remember.

Sherlock came out of the bathroom in the same trousers as yesterday, along with the shirt John had lent to him.

"We'll take a cab to the shopping area so you won't have to walk too much without shoes on," John told the hybrid as he grabbed his keys and wallet.

The tall hybrid nodded and came up obediently behind John, holding out his collar and leash. With a soft sigh of resignation, John took the collar and placed it around Sherlock's neck once more. He tried to adjust the leather band so it wouldn't cut into the pale skin, but no matter how he moved it, the collar was simply too thick, the upper edge rubbing against the top of Sherlock's throat.

Sherlock tried to give him a reassuring smile, his tail once more wrapping lightly around John's wrist.

"It's OK, I'm used to it already. It doesn't hurt that much."

The doctor gave the back of Sherlock's neck a gentle squeeze, pocketing the leash like yesterday. He'll keep it on hand in case he needs it for an emergency, but otherwise he refused to even think about leading Sherlock around on a leash. With a quick look around the flat to make sure he didn't forget anything, John led Sherlock out into the street.

...

...

The shopping district was noisy and crowded. Humans walked around, flitting from store to store as their hybrids followed close behind, usually crawling after their owners. Sherlock caught more than a few stares as he followed closely behind John, aware of the disdainful glares he attracted. To allow a hybrid to walk at the same height as humans, especially in public, was highly controversial, but John paid the gawkers no mind as he strode confidently towards his destination. He never really though about the hybrids before, accepting them as just a fact of every day life, but now that he had Sherlock, John found himself sneaking glances at them. He noticed the multitude of scars and marks on some of their bodies, he noticed the frightened looks in some of their eyes, he noticed the way their heads drooped as they crawled, the harsh cement scraping against their hands and knees. Some of the kinder owners allowed their pets to wear protective clothing, but others didn't care. Sherlock's tailed tightened around John's wrist where their hands were joined, ears twitching nervously. He didn't like attracting attention, attention usually resulted in unwelcomed touches.

John could sense the tenseness that was practically radiating off from Sherlock's body. He walked slowly so that the hybrid would be able to keep up even though he had no shoes on. The doctor kept his eyes alert for any broken glass on the ground or other obstacles that could harm Sherlock's unprotected feet. He directed them to a shoe store, the automatic glass doors sliding open quietly to let them in. The store was quite large, rows upon rows of footwear spread out before them, the selection of colours and designs almost overwhelming.

"What kind of shoes do you want, Sherlock?" John asked as he led the hybrid down one aisle, absently looking over the merchandise.

Sherlock froze and looked around, utterly lost. No one's ever asked him what he's wanted...for anything. He had no idea, he didn't even know where to begin.

John turned to his hybrid when he felt him stop moving. Sherlock looked almost panicked and John quickly tried to calm him down.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, look at me," the doctor waited until the steel blue eyes settled on his face before he continued, "It's OK, I'm right here. We'll look around and if you see anything you like, just let me know, OK?"

The hybrid took a deep breath and nodded, eyes scanning over all the different choices.

After an hour of looking around, John and Sherlock decided on a pair of black dress shoes, a pair of dark brown boots, and a pair of sneakers, along with several pairs of socks. John asked him if he wanted some slippers to wear around the flat, but Sherlock shook his head, feeling more comfortable bare foot when indoors.

Sherlock put on the sneakers before they continued their shopping, feeling strange with the things on his feet. They seemed kind of heavy, a constant reminder of their presence, but it was warmer and the bumps and cracks in the cement outside will no longer make walking a painful affair. As he sat on the chair, looking at the new shoes on his feet, Sherlock glanced at John next to him. A feeling of shame washed over him and he quickly averted his eyes, but his owner saw the sudden change in Sherlock's expression and placed a hand on his back, looking at him with a soft smile.

"Sherlock? What's wrong? Do you not like them? We can still return them if you want another pair instead."

Hastily the dark haired hybrid shook his head, looking horrified at the suggestion that he would dislike something his owner had bought for him. His ears drooped as he recalled John pulling out his credit card to pay for the shoes. John was not a wealthy man, his military pension was enough to keep himself fed and clothed, and he had some savings from before, but he didn't live extravagantly. Buying Sherlock and now having to spend money on a pet he didn't even want in the first place, Sherlock was sure this will strain his budget for the coming months.

"I...I can help pay. I can work in the hybrid houses, John, I've worked there a bit in the past."

The doctor's eyes widened as the words fell from Sherlock's lips. Hybrid houses. They hired hybrids for various uses, generally for mundane jobs that humans didn't want to do. Their conditions were notoriously poor, but it was a way for some owners to add an extra source of income and make some money out of their hybrids. Usually owners would send pets they were tired of, or as a way of punishment since contracts with hybrid houses varied between single jobs to long term employment. John had a feeling he knew what kind of job Sherlock would be doing in a place like that and his voice shook when he asked.

"You worked in a hybrid house? Doing what?"

Sherlock shrugged as if it was no big deal.

"My previous owner put me in one for six months to get me used to servicing people. It prepared me for the parties he held when his friends and acquaintances would come and play. The owner of the hybrid house was fairly nice, she let me roam around when I wasn't with a client and I met some other friendly hybrids there."

John's stomach churned as a wave of nausea hit him. Sherlock continued on without pausing.

"She told me I was one of her best employees and if I ever needed employment I was welcome to go back. If I go two or three days a week I can help you pay for these things, John."

The short haired man sat back in the chair, needing a moment to just breath and make sure his breakfast didn't make its way back up his throat. Sherlock's tail flicked against his wrist, almost rubbing as if to help him relax. Finally, after several long moments of silence, John turned to face his hybrid.

"Sherlock, you never need to work in a hybrid house again. If in the future you want to work, I can help you find a regular job somewhere, but not at a hybrid house. And if you work, it will be for yourself, not to pay me, not to pay anyone else."

The hybrid looked confused, not understanding why John's so opposed. He didn't mind, and John would have more money coming in. It sounded perfectly logical to Sherlock.

John's hand slid into Sherlock's, pulling him in for a hug. The hybrid rested his head on the doctor's shoulder, feeling himself become more and more familiarized to John's touch.

"Sherlock, listen to me. You're body is yours, not anyone else's. Don't let anyone hurt you...use you like that, OK? You deserve better."

John's instructions were blurry to Sherlock, but he wanted to please the man, so he nodded.

...

...

Shopping for clothes turned out more difficult that John had predicted. Much like with the shoes, Sherlock had been utterly overwhelmed by the choices, all the colours, designs, the different materials available, it was mind boggling. He had some experience with fashion from his first owner, but back then she had chosen everything for him to wear and Sherlock hadn't ever had to make choices himself. Now he looked through racks on racks of pants, seeing only slight differences between them. Long, short, loose, tight, finally Sherlock had given up and randomly grabbed a few outfits that looked simple enough and didn't cost a small fortune.

John looked at the clothes Sherlock had picked, mostly button down shirts, a few casual ones, dress pants and a pair of jeans. John himself preferred loose and comfy, but Sherlock seemed to be drawn to the more fashionable end of things. When the hybrid went to try the clothes on John had to admit he seemed to instinctively know which clothes suited himself. The outfits looked stunning on the hybrid and even some of the other customers also trying on clothes stopped to stare.

Sherlock tried to convince John that he didn't need so many clothes, after all most of his time will be spent in the flat and even just a night gown would do, but John had brushed away his protests, loading up a cart with shirts and pants of various colours and designs. He took the time to get some boxers for Sherlock as well as a pajama set along with a nice dressing gown, dark blue and soft made from imitation silk but still good quality. True this little shopping spree is going to cost him a month of his military pension, but John had some money saved up, it's not like he had much to spend money on prior to this anyway. He didn't indulge in any expensive hobbies, didn't have a taste for going out all the time, and he didn't have a family to support.

As they made their way to the cash registers, John suddenly felt a hand land on his back. Startled, the doctor whirled around coming face to face with a man in his early forties, a bit taller than himself, sporting short black hair peppered with grey.

"Johnny boy! I knew that was you!"

John gaped and only the feeling of Sherlock pressing closer to him shook him out of it.

"Oh, uh, hi! Wow! Haven't seen you for a while,..." John's voice tiled up hesitantly as he tried desperately to match face to name. He knew the man from the military, a fellow officer he had come across during training.

"Chris, Johnny boy. Christopher Tanning, remember?"

"Right! Right, yeah, of course, Chris. What are you doing here? I heard you were climbing the ranks over in Afghanistan."

The man laughed and patted John on the shoulder, making him wince. His voice was loud, boisterous and John felt Sherlock shift behind him, using the doctor like a shield between himself and this stranger.

"Decided the risks of getting blown up weren't worth it," the man raked his eyes past John and settled on the hybrid half hidden behind him. He tilted an eyebrow up with interest, stepping to the side a bit to try and get a better look at Sherlock.

"Oh? What's this? Why Johnny boy, I thought you weren't interested in hybrids, this is a surprise."

As Chris moved, John became aware of the hybrid who had been kneeling behind him. A female with a pair of small antlers poking out from her long blonde hair. Her head was down and John couldn't see her face, but as Chris moved, she shifted a bit to follow her owner.

"Oh, uh, yeah. This is Sherlock, he's...uhm...I got him just recently," John's voice was slightly unsure, glancing back at the his hybrid. It made him grimace to talk about buying Sherlock like a product.

Chris' eyes narrowed slightly noting that not only was the hybrid walking upright, but that he was fully clothed as opposed to his own pet whose low cut, sheer shirt and miniskirt left little to the imagination.

Sherlock's head was down, shoulders hunched as if he was trying to hide himself. This was the first time he's being introduced to a human being while standing up and it was utterly terrifying. His tail gripped around John's wrist tensely and he felt himself shaking.

The doctor sensed his hybrid's alarm and he turned a little, wrapping an arm around Sherlock's waist in the hopes that the touch will help calm him down a little.

"Well its, he's, got a nice face," Chris caught himself, noting the way John frowned slightly when he had used 'it'. "Congratulations, Johnny boy. Maybe you can bring him over some time. I've actually got a few cat hybrids of my own I've been thinking about breeding, he looks like he'd be a good match."

Chris reached forward as if to pet Sherlock, but before he could, John pulled the hybrid back, throwing a strained smile at the other man.

"Sorry, I'm kind of busy recently, new job. As a matter of fact, Sherlock and I should get going, have a meeting to get to," John guided Sherlock away from Chris as he talked, desperate to get away. The mention of breeding had come out of nowhere and the doctor had felt like his breath got knocked out of him when Chris brought it up.

"Oh, well good luck with that! You've still got my email, right? Shoot me a message when things settle down, it'll be good to catch up," Chris gave them a little wave as John ushered Sherlock towards the checkouts, calling out his goodbyes.

As soon as the pair were out of hearing range, John turned to Sherlock. He hadn't removed his hand from around the hybrid's waist and he could feel how tightly the muscle were contracted. The mop of curly hair still hid Sherlock's face as he kept his face down, shuffling his feet as he followed John.

"Sherlock? Sherlock, are you all right?" John's voice was laced with concern as he tried to peek at the hybrid's expression. That had been a decidedly unpleasant encounter and no doubt it had shaken Sherlock quite a bit. He moved them to a corner, away from other customers and store staff and stopped, turning to face him.

"Sherlock, talk to me, how do you feel? Do you need to sit down for a bit?"

As if his legs decided to simply give up standing, Sherlock sagged back against the wall, burying his face into his hands. He took several deep, shuddering breaths and didn't move when John gently wrapped him in a warm hug.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry you had to go through that," John whispered softly into his ear as the doctor's hands stroked through the soft curls, letting Sherlock press his face against his shoulder.

Gradually, Sherlock felt his heart beat return to a more normal speed, but he made no move to leave John's embrace. It was warm, and safe, and if he closed his eyes then he could let his mind forget everything else except his owner's smell, his touch, his voice. He knew John wouldn't push him to breed, but when Chris had brought it up it still caused panicked fear to shoot through him. He pressed closer to John, making soft, rumbling noises, the beginnings of a purr, as the shorter man brushed his ears and kissed his hair.

"Do you want to go home? We can get the rest of the things later," John's voice asked softly.

It was tempting, so tempting. Even though Sherlock had only been at John's flat for one night, it still made him feel safe. He wanted to go back and sit in John's lap, he wanted to get away from all the stares and strangers that bustled about. But before that, Sherlock wanted to make one more stop.

"Y-yes, but...," Sherlock looked up and met John's eyes, "Please...will you choose a collar for me before we go?" His words were spoken so quietly John almost missed it. It felt like Sherlock was pleading, terrified of asking for something from John.

Licking his lips, Sherlock gathered his courage and spoke more clearly.

"I-I'd like one that you pick, John. Please?"

The request caused a wonderfully warm feeling to bloom in John's chest. His arms tightened a little more around Sherlock and he pressed a soft kiss to the hybrid's temple.

"Let's pick one together, then, yeah?"

By the time the two of them caught a cab and were on their way back to the flat the sun was already setting. Three pairs of shoes, enough clothes for Sherlock to change out of for a week or so, and a brand new collar. Sherlock sported the piece around his neck proudly, every once in a while brushing his fingers over it. They had picked a leather one, soft and slim. The outside was lined with a thin metal plate, silver, offering contrast to the black of the leather. The tag that dangled from the front stated Sherlock's name on the front, and on the back there was John's name to indicate who Sherlock belonged to as well as their home address.

The store clerk had been shocked when John asked Sherlock what he thought about the various collars they were considering. The neck piece was one of the most important pieces for a hybrid, stating directly without any question the ownership of the person who had bought him or her. For that reason, owners generally chose collars with care, but to actually ask the hybrid for an opinion? The store clerk's wide-eyed stare had been indication enough that that didn't happen very often.

In the cab, John hid a smile when he noticed Sherlock touching the collar again, rubbing the tag between his fingers. John had told him he didn't have to write anything under "Owner", just an address would be enough, but Sherlock had insisted on putting John's name down. Now he was curled up on the back seat, legs feeling tired from all the walking. The hybrid wasn't used to moving around so much on two legs and his muscles were exhausted. He really did look like an over sized cat like this, head tucked over his bent arms, legs curled up until he was almost a ball. His tail was wrapped around himself and his eyes were closed.

John couldn't help reaching down and petting the soft curls. Immediately, Sherlock shifted his head until it rested in John's lap, purring softly. Before they had finished up their shopping trip, John had stopped at a sweets shop and bought him an ice cream cone. Sherlock was ecstatic at the treat since he had never tried it before. At first the coldness startled him, but as the sweet, vanilla taste filled his mouth Sherlock's eyes had practically glowed with delight. John's eyes were amused as he watched Sherlock, eating his own at a much slower pace. He made a mental note to get some ice cream when he goes to the supermarket, maybe several flavours for Sherlock to try. He quite enjoyed this, Sherlock so relaxed and seeming content, and taking care of him had John feeling a new sense of being needed. The doctor felt a new sense of looking forward to things, eager to see Sherlock try new things and watch his reactions.

As the cab made its way back to their flat both owner and hybrid felt that maybe, just maybe things would work out OK.

CHAPTER 3 END

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