Chp 7

Boop be boop, not my characters, that is all.

"I don't know who you're friends with, but it must be someone pretty important. Most visitors aren't allowed to stay the night."

The nurse with far too much makeup chirped as she finished administering a dose of antibiotics to John's I.V. She skirted out of the room leaving a very distraught Sherlock Holmes behind. He sat at the edge of his chair, leaning in close to John's sleeping form, as if looking away would make his heart cease beating. He looked so small, wrapped in those sheets, so fragile. His breathing was slow and even, no thanks to Sherlock. How had he been so careless? The smell of John, the taste, and the feeling of trust. Trust Sherlock now knew he didn't deserve. John had looked at him and allowed him to do as he saw fit, as usual just blindly following Sherlock's lead. John had just lain there, unable to do anything to stop the attack.

Sherlock managed to finish the scenting process, but not without leaving John so close to death that Moriarty was literally fighting back bursts of laughter, he'd just let them leave, why shouldn't he have, he had won. John was just lying on the floor, in a pool of his own blood, so still. God, Sherlock fisted his hair, he was just so fucking still. For all intents and purposes John had died last night; it took a team of paramedics and few serious surgeries to get John where he is now. He had had to carry him back to Mycroft to get him medical attention while he waited to be able to shift back. He loathed the idea of getting him involved, but he had no other means of ensuring John would be revived. He certainly couldn't pick up a phone or even attempt it himself.

The worst part was that Sherlock had enjoyed it when it was happening. He couldn't even help it, once he started releasing all his pheromones, having them intermingle with John's, it was exhilarating. He was so caught up in everything he was feeling he didn't even hear John's bones snapping lick twigs, or his skin being torn, and he didn't even notice his lung being punctured. No Sherlock didn't notice a damn thing until he heard, saw, and felt John's heart stop. Sherlock started to tremble, choking back a powerful sob. He had put John there, there was no excuse. He had spent years divorcing himself from emotion, then the one person who truly matters life depends on him detaching himself, and he just fucking gives in.

"John, I'm so sorry. Please, please just be ok."

Sherlock didn't bother holding back the tears; he just let them fall freely with a soft pitter patter on the hospital linoleum.

"Hey, cut that out, some of us are trying to get a bit of shut eye."

Sherlock's head whipped up, yes, it had been John's hoarse voice uttering those words. He was looking at Sherlock with half lidded eyes and a faint smile. A smile? Only John, only his John would smile at such a time.

"John, you're awake."

He brushed the tears off his face, hoping he hadn't noticed, but somehow knowing he probably had.

"I'll leave if that's what you'd like. I understand completely."

Yes he'd leave. Leave forever to let John be happy, after what he's done to the man, he would understand. He wouldn't like it, but he would understand, he would comply.

"No, it's ok. The morphine is beginning to wear off, so I'm kind of awake."

"Should I call a nurse, are you in pain?"

"Sherlock, calm down, its nothing I can't manage."

"John, you tell me right now if you're in pain."

Sherlock hadn't meant to use such a demanding tone, but he needed to know. John wasn't to play hero now, he was a patient.

"Yes, I'm in a lot of pain."

John sputtered out. A look of confusion spread across his features. He looked up at Sherlock.

"I-I hadn't meant to say that. Why did I say that?"

Sherlock's eyes widened and looked from John's eyes to the floor. He couldn't bear to look him in the eye, he was so ashamed. Not even awake a whole minute and Sherlock had already abused his hold over John, stupid!

"Sherlock. Why did I say that?"

John was more insistent this time; Sherlock could feel his cold stare on the top of his head.

"I-John, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Be a bit more specific, could you?"

"I'm sorry…for everything John."

Sherlock looked back up into John's eyes and could feel tears trying to make their way down his cheeks.

"Don't be-oh Sherlock. Just-could you just tell me exactly what is going on here? That psycho Moriarty didn't really explain much and really I'm just at a loss."

Sherlock did his best to keep a level voice as he explained his transformation into a werewolf, told him about his moods and senses. He explained that he hadn't told anyone for fear of rejection, everyone already thought he was a freak. Then he got to the scenting.

"Well it's sort of…"

He looked at John nervously; he didn't know how John was going to take this. If he was angry, if he took it badly, if he wanted Sherlock to leave, he would have to comply. It would kill him inside, but he would have to leave, and the thought of leaving was terrifying.

"Out with it Sherlock, come on mate, I can handle whatever it is."

"It, how do I…when you scent someone you're marking them…you…claim them as yours. It's so that other werewolf's know that the individual belongs to someone else. Two of us together it gets pretty rough but we can handle it, we heal quickly, and then both parties are marked. With a human…well a human can't scent, but that can be marked and scented themselves. Mainly the whole point is just to declare ones ownership of another person."

There was a brief pause and Sherlock held his breath with fearsome anticipation.

"So you…own me…?"

"No! John I-you can do as you-I would never make you-I-I….I have some control over you, but I would never use it against you John. This wasn't your choice, I would have never done this without your consent, especially not with you in that condition, most certainly not on a full moon, and there would have been someone there-'

"You've put a lot of thought into this I see."

John was giving an impish grin which brought a surge of blood to his cheeks, blushing violently he turned away.

"Look, Sherlock. I can't say I'm not a bit peeved about the circumstances, I mean you did bloody near "scent" me to death I guess you could say."

Sherlock flinched at the memory of John's limp body in his grasp.

"I'm not trying to make you feel bad, I'm still processing all of this, but I get that lost control for a bit. I'm just saying that obviously it's not all hugs and sunshine, but it's not the end of the world either. I'm still here; we managed to get away from Moriarty, and now I don't have to worry about some other werewolf trying to get their smell all over me, right?"

"John, trust me, no other werewolf would have been able to scent you."

He gave John a steady gaze for a few beats and then shook his head. John continued to stare back at Sherlock though, cocking his head a bit to the side.

"So, what's this scenting stuff do anyway? Am I just gonna smell like a dog?"

He asked giving a cautionary sniff to his arm. Sherlock couldn't help but give a soft chuckle.

"Well…please, don't take this the wrong way…I can give you…orders, if I'm adamant enough. I have the ability to sense where you are, at all times. I-uh-can call you to me, no matter where you are. We'll be a bit…closer too, be able to read each other better, have a better feel for what the other is thinking…"

God he hoped John wouldn't find this all too weird. This was becoming increasingly more awkward for Sherlock and he was finding it difficult to get rid of his blush.

"Well, that's not so bad. It was sort of like that before anyway. Maybe not as "sci-fi" or anything, but nothing too extreme."

Sherlock was relieved that John was taking this all so well; this was going better than expected. With any luck John would be out of the hospital soon and they could put the whole thing behind them.

"What's the point to it though? I mean do you guys just scent all your friends?"

"No, no we-"

Sherlock sucked in a deep breath. Shit. No John we only mark our mates. Of course John would have to ask that question. What could he do, lie? No, lying to John was bad, that never ended well, eventually Sherlock would have to tell the truth and admit he'd lied, then John would be pissed. He didn't want John pissed. At the same time though he didn't want to let on how pleased he was that John would be forever marked as his. This was all happening too soon.

"We scent with…we mark our mates."

Ohhhh, how will John react to that tid bit of information? Tune in next time :p