Chapter 6
John sat alone in the hospital room. It was baking hot and he'd already stripped to his pants. He didn't think removing them would help so he suffered stoically through the dry heat, imagining he was back in the desert and compensating with jugs full of iced water. The cannula in his arm itched but the nurse refused to remove it, simply checking it was still sited correctly and was free of infection. He couldn't remember the last time he slept; he was exhausted but he didn't dare close his eyes for a moment in case... in case it happened, and he didn't even know what it was! Here in the windowless room he had no clue how close a full moon might be. Not that he believed Mycroft's explanation for a second; he had formulated a logical explanation for the red-haired man's little parlour trick that made sense in his head.
There was a brisk knock on the door and Mycroft let himself in, closing it behind him and ensuring the latch engaged before shrugging off his jacket and laying it neatly over the end of the bed. John hadn't sent for him, but the older man had decided it was past time for coddling the doctor and it was time he faced up to his new reality. "You look dreadful," he observed. "Are you sleeping?"
John shook his head. "Too damn hot in here. If I'm to be kept prisoner could you at least get them to turn the thermostat down? Sure it's against my human rights to be held in excessive temperature."
Mycroft removed his gold cufflinks and rolled up his shirtsleeves, tugging his tie loose and unbuttoning his waistcoat. It was the most casual John had ever seen the elder Holmes brother. He found himself focussing on Mycroft's exposed forearms with their light dusting of freckles and pale gold hair, every one distinctly visible. He deliberately ignored that, refusing to believe his eyesight had improved so drastically. It was merely a trick of the light.
John was seated in the only chair so Mycroft stood in front of the short man with his arms crossed. "Your internal temperature has risen by around four degrees Celsius. You're running at around forty-one degrees. From now on you'll be generally hotter, although this significant rise is temporary. Once you experience your first change you'll settle at about 39.5C. And you're not a prisoner as such; you're here for your own safety as well as the safety of others."
"This is Baskerville isn't it? Or some other similar establishment and I'm a... a specimen in some sort of hallucinogenic suggestibility experiment." John interrupted.
Mycroft sighed. "When did you last receive any medication?"
"Eight hours ago," John checked the white plastic clock on the wall.
"So you would agree you are currently free of any chemical influence?" John shrugged his assent. "Then I shall repeat my demonstration."
"No!" John balked at witnessing the horror over again. That hairless paw resting on his stomach had appeared in his nightmare, slashing across his belly and spilling his guts while a man-who-was-not-Sherlock laughed in his face. "No, just... Talk to me."
"Fine. Are you eating and drinking?"
"Ravenous all the time. Six cooked meals every day and snacks on the hour. Can't seem to satisfy my appetite. Drinking gallons and it needs to be ice cold or my stomach rejects it."
Mycroft nodded as if that was to be expected. "Your body is trying to fight the infection and the disease is fighting for your body. Both battles need fuel, which explains your hunger. The craving for water is to combat the rise in temperature. You're not sweating excessively?" John shook his head. "Hmm... Probably a good thing as it's difficult enough to prevent dehydration. The IV is a broad spectrum antibiotic, essential salts and fluids."
"Say I believe you, and this isn't just some experiment..? You're saying I'm... we're werewolves? I'm going to be a danger to people around the full moon? But the rest of the time I'm ok?"
"Ah, the mythology... Well, best get that out of the way first. We are not lunar-tied. We can, and do change at will, and in fact we need to change every few days or the wolf fights its way out. That's how accidents happen." He waved at John, as a case in point. "We are faster, stronger and heal quicker. Our senses are more highly developed. Ordinary bullets hurt just as much as silver, but silver injuries are more difficult to heal and tend to become more easily infected."
"Silver is used in medicine as an anti-microbial, with antibiotic applications. How is it possible it causes us harm?"
"Different biology I suppose. I'm not a medical man doctor. Perhaps you can investigate for yourself? Like wolves we form a Pack, although we don't tend to live in close proximity. There is a Pack-bond - a kind of mental connection - which we reinforce through physical contact when in wolf form. We are acutely aware of mood and can communicate and determine relative position within a few miles. The Pack has a hierarchy - a leader, or Alpha, a second, who will speak for the Alpha if required and often a third, who will act for them both. Everyone else jockeys for position below that, although we don't have much of that."
"Who is the Alpha? Will I meet him?"
"I am," he said simply and watched John absorb that information. When John's smirk split his face he simply rolled his eyes in a familiar manner.
"No offence Mycroft, but you don't strike me as alpha-male material. You're altogether too... Um..." Realising what he'd been thinking questioned Mycroft's sexuality, he chose to fall silent. Mycroft twitched a smile at his discomfort.
"Fortunately for me the role of Alpha in a were-Pack is about leadership rather than procreation. My sexual orientation has no influence on my ability to lead."
"Um... Fine... Good... We are dangerous though? Are we... are we the only dangerous thing out there? Are you going to tell me that vampires, zombies and ghouls also exist?"
Mycroft gave a wry grin. "In my experience humans are the most dangerous species on the planet. There aren't enough wolves or vampires in the world to compete with the fear and destruction humans can create. I have never met a zombie or a ghoul so I cannot confirm or deny their existence."
"So vampires...?"
"Exist. They don't bother us, we don't bother them."
John nodded. He felt he was absorbing the information rather well, although it was underpinned by the belief this was all some mad experiment and Mycroft was probably insane...
