ENTWINED
8.
Sherlock
It takes three weeks for there to be any remarkable change in Molly's position in the cave. Her half state between wolf and human has slowly been shifting from one to the other. It is of the past few days that I can see any real definition that she is still a woman. That she is human, really. It's almost like a bad experiment gone wrong if I was unaware of phasing and the other creatures in the world. In truth I know much more than I let on.
John has been very informative the past several weeks and that makes me grateful. He realized there wasn't much that could help to aid Molly's wolf to speed along the process of healing but he managed with the help of his mother to get a few things inside here that had a chance of making her comfortable while she got better. That was the easiest way of phrasing it.
They both came every couple of days to check on her and give any updates that I couldn't clearly see. I usually came up here at night when my mother didn't need me to keep busy doing other things. Tedious things as they were, always. I brought a few books and samples that I found along the way to look over with the small light provided by a lantern that John had brought on a night he had come.
He was here now as we sat in the afternoon talking about other things. He was dating a girl from another town who had come to the Watson's home for help with her mother's condition. A clan of pure wolves who were involvement with royalty. I found it interesting that someone with such close affiliations with the people who looked over the country needed to seek help outside of it.
"It is a frightening business, Holmes. Royals try to turn their eyes from your world. Where my family make a living from helping both sides of it. It's not a safe occupation in the least."
I didn't like that he identified me so close to every other aspect of the creatures. I could hear my brother's voice insisting that I couldn't run from it forever. Even he as little involvement as he tried to do with this wolf business still was quite immersed in it. I think it was strange how much he knew about it and it wasn't just about the ways of the wolves, he knew tons about every species as if it was truly that important.
I had started to pick up on some of it. These new developments of our clan being attacked made me feel like it was necessary to look into the shadows where these adversaries were hiding. There had been something that Molly had hinted at before she was taken out of the picture that had my mind engrossed in the search for more answers. About her dreams.
She had asked me about how real some dreams were. I hadn't paid much mind to it, in the days that I had spent with her awake I realized that she often spoke more with the small things that she asked. Questions and small hints that I overlooked. I needed to pay attention now.
"Why do you do it then, John? Surely taking care of strangers is not as important as your safety or your mother's. You care for her deeply." I turned to him, it was in my own inquiries that I found I needed these answers to help me on this journey I was about to go on. I didn't know what would happen on it, but I had a hidden suspicion that there were things that I was going to discover through Molly that I hadn't thought of before.
"I do. Experiencing the adrenaline is both frightening and thrilling at the same time. I imagine you would do the same to keep bread on the table if you had to do that type of thing." I knew what he was referring to. It was no surprise to hear him say it directly to me. John was the type of man who was honest when he felt it was necessary, I enjoyed it.
"It's possible but at the same time very unlikely. My family may have wealth but I don't touch it all that much. I stay away from the house as much as possible."
John is grinning when he talks to me next. He has some medical files with him, looking over cases that his mother has been looking into for other families. Or perhaps they were of his own studies. I hadn't really looked at it. He held them close that I hadn't bothered to pry. "I know. I have started to come here instead of the house knowing that you'll be sitting here rather than inside where it is sanitary and safe."
"There aren't many who can find this place quickly enough to try to track my movements."
He laughed at me. "I was not referring to your ability to fend off an adversary. I was merely referring to the fact that you enjoy sitting with a woman who has been unconscious for weeks without moving rather than dealing with any questions from your family."
I don't say anything to that. It's the truth. Anything my family wants to say to me would pertain to the person who I sit with, so why entertain them. There is nothing I will say that will satisfy their minds. Especially my mother who often asks if there have been any improvement on Molly's condition. She hasn't been here yet to see how she looks but I know Mycroft has relayed at least a portion of the details of how she appears. Exaggerated commentary at that. His dislike of Molly's kind will keep him from sharing good news however little there may be.
I am only thankful he hasn't come back since he discussed all that he could about mutts and their disadvantages. I haven't seen him either which means he has probably gone back to his day job.
"It's about time for dinner with your parents, is it not?" I ask him after several long moments of silence between the two of us. Both of us having gone back to our respective readings for a while.
John pulls out his dad's old watch from his trousers. It's a pocket watch. I know it has an inscription on the back of it with words of sentiment more than likely passed down from his grandfather from his father. John always has it near him. He nods at me and quickly shuts the folder he has in his lap and jumps up. "I'll be late if I don't hurry. Mum will worry, but I will tell her of the progress of our patient," he mutters as he gestures to Molly who has a blanket thrown over her bottom half to keep her from the chill of the night, thanks to Mrs. Watson who was fretting the last time she came along with John a week ago. "That should make her forget about my tardiness to an extent. Anyways, you should probably eat too Sherlock. Your own mother worries about you, you know?" I scoff as he rolls his eyes at me and heads towards the exit.
I grumble at his retreat and close my book, not marking the page. I'll remember it later should I want to read more of it. It was starting to get dull and I have another idea in mind for how I should spend the rest of the night. At least I did until I saw the form across the way move. She was shaking.
I give her a moment to see what is changing this time. Usually it is a small shiver from the coolness of the night and other times it is the wolf receding back a little. The latter usually happens quietly and only a small section of it disappears to reveal a human limb. Tonight, she appears to be moving hurriedly enough. I remember suddenly that a turn might be imminent in another week.
Some wolves can manage to do so early if they are half breeds. As I am a pure I can manage whenever and also on the night of the full moon. Special cases, as Mycroft had stated.
I don't see this as being one of those times however. It is mostly in her shoulders, I notice as I get to my feet. I'm not supposed to disturb her at all but I go forward some days to have a better look at what is left for her to be finished with the process. There isn't too much left.
The shaking has stopped down and as she is turned away towards the wall I can see that her face is back to normal. Gone is the shape of the wolf's head and the fur that ruled it. Her hair is covering part of her face but I can see the small pout of her mouth as it rests, she is breathing out puffs of air. Soothing breathes that should relieve me even a little bit. However, they aren't normal.
It's the fact that part of her is still in the form of her wolf. I know that. The beats of their hearts are different. Two beats faster than normal. I try to move past that as I realize that it shouldn't be too much longer until she's back to normal. This is good.
I turn away from her and go over to open notebook that I keep. Inside of it are small sketches and notes that I've jotted down over the past couple weeks and even before that. It's where I keep any new information that I discover about this disease I'm living with and now, Molly's own developments. I've thought about showing it to her latter. It might fascinate her to know some things. I know she knows more than I do on the subject, she lived in places that I have never been in my entire lifetime. I've been outside of the town before but always for this and that and it has never been on my own. I haven't had that luxury before, it would be an interesting experience to some exploring of my own. I believe in some way Molly will provide me with that.
What she's looking for is not something we will find where I live, I truly believe that. She's brought something to me and it is unclear what that could mean exactly but I intend to ask the questions I've been attempting to since she stumbled back into my sights.
I need them.
I jot down a few more notations before I shut my eyes for a little while. While I don't particularly like to doze off on most days, I don't see there being much of a change right now. Tomorrow is a different story.
It turns out I am correct again. I try not to be too smug about it but it is a nice start to be woken up by the sound of the shuffling of blankets and bones sliding into place in the right way.
Molly lets out a groan and I move over to her quickly. I am eager and I know I should wait for her to see me before I do anything but I cannot wait anymore. I've done weeks of it.
I don't fully expect her to take me off my feet and wrestle me to the ground however.
Molly
My head hurts. That's the first thing that I feel when I realize that I'm not dead. Was I ever truly dead? I don't remember what happened at first. It takes me all of ten seconds as I try to will my body to move so that I'm not in such a cramped position (on my back instead), to recollect the memories from the last time that I was awake and conscious. There had been so many wolves and mixed species that I was sure I had been dead the last time that I was fully awake and able to move.
I was willingly keeping my eyes closed as I groaned and felt the shift in my anatomy as my bones clicked like clockwork back into place. How long has it been? I wonder, when I feel the heat of someone hanging above me. I've been here before. It wasn't pretty the last time, and I think that's why I move without thinking. My feet first, sliding under whoever it is and giving them a solid kick in the shins causing them to fall over nearly on top of me.
I follow him by trying to cover them before they could do the same of me. It's an instantaneous thought. I'm glad that my brain is still working though, even if he overpowers me and turns the tables on me and pins my hands at my side. His voice is familiar to me and that gets me to relax fractionally. "Molly, stop."
My eyes open quickly. I must look as startled by the situation as he does as he is practically straddling me to keep me from hitting him again. It's Sherlock. Of course, it's Sherlock. I expel a breath of air I didn't know I was holding, as I look around us. He is practically all I see or feel. I do feel sore, too.
He seems to be looking for something in my face as he stays where he is without moving away. "Sherlock." I whisper his name and his eyes drift up to lock on my own irises. I tilt my head to the side as if to tell him that he can let me go now. He seems to realize that I'm not going to hit him again as he lets go of me and slowly retreats from holding me down with his body. He only moves to sit beside me however.
This give me a better look of where we are, or rather where we aren't. We're not in his house, we are not in his room sheltered by the soft cotton of his bed and wooden floors that cover most of the place. Instead it looks like he's hidden me away in a cave of some sort. It's not all that large but it seems he knows his way around it. I took another sweep of the place before my eyes land back on him, he's staring at me. He's been staring at me.
I start to get up only for a shooting pain to hit me in my arms, and my legs. Everywhere, really. I wince and settle for just sitting up for right now. I'm still not well. "How long has it been?" I ask him as I run a hand through my hair which is in my face for the most part. I sweep it back. It feels longer and the itch to chop it off again is strong. I dispel the thought as Sherlock speaks to me.
"Close to four weeks. Three weeks and three days precisely."
Before I could question him on how it's possible. Was I in a coma? I need to know plenty from him. He has to know some things.
"You have a disadvantage, it seems." He clears his throat as if he doesn't like calling whatever it is he referring to as that. "After you were attacked," He stops. "After we were all attacked, I got you out of there the best that I could. My wolf more so than me though there was plenty of help on the matter. You don't heal like most of us; wolves that is. It was like you were stuck in between two forms. She wanted to protect you for as long as possible. Your wolf. It's funny how much they care for their hosts."
"Yet, she wouldn't help me at first."
"She couldn't." Sherlock insisted. "You're a mutt."
"I'm well aware of it. It's a pain really, all the things you're capable of doing…." I stop myself before I could go on. I'm not entirely bitter about the differences between the two of us. I've met plenty of his kind. The pure breed ones. The truth of the matter is that I don't care about it anymore. I've never truly cared what anyone has thought of me and the things that I'm capable of. I don't know everything but what I do know is that I'm perfectly content with it for right now. I know my limits.
"Anyways," I pause a moment realize that there is something in my leg and then I rip it out. "Was this necessary?" There is a needle in my hand, it's an IV line but as I look around I know it was not to give me fluids. The opposite actually. A catheter. How degrading.
"The Watsons thought it would be better than to let you soil the blankets you were under."
"The Watsons?" I question. It's the first time I've heard of them, whomever they may be.
"They're a family of healers so to speak. They take care of ill creatures, no matter if they are human or not. I am friends with their son, John. His mother and he took care of you as best as they could while you were out. There wasn't exactly much they could do. The shift in your appearance cause a lot of trouble to aid you in anyways. Wolves usually are able to heal their hosts of any damage, however you were a troubling case."
"Because I didn't completely phase." I nod, I've hear of this happening but I had never had it happen before.
"I myself don't particularly like the wolf to heal me, if I'm in a hurry I'll push him back inside. John doesn't approve of my methods."
I smile at him. It sounds like an accurate assumption for most of the people in Sherlock's life. There is something about him that makes me feel like most people wouldn't understand him. But, a part of me does. He hates the side of him that is susceptible to his wolf. He can't control it and it bothers him. I am the opposite about it.
"I imagine you're a horrible patient, Holmes." I tell him as I roll my neck around. It feels stiff.
He says nothing but I know he's probably glaring at me. I look over at him and see that I am right. I ignore it and ask him another question. "Have you been here the entire time?" I see books and odd things across the way where I suspect he sat when I was out.
"It's quiet." It's the only kind of answer he gives me and I keep the statement of gratitude from slipping from my mouth even though I do want to tell him thank you for staying with me. He could have left me. He doesn't seem to want me to leave him entirely. Just before this entire ordeal he had been wanting me to stay so that we could talk more.
I think he had more questions now. The briefest bit of dread that I felt before surfaced. It wasn't that I didn't like him, he was an inquisitive man but I didn't have all the answers. I didn't want to disappoint him.
"You awoke at the perfect time." He tells me after a few moments where we are both quiet.
I hum, wondering what he could mean.
"My family is having a party as part of this ongoing festival that the town has." He shrugs as if he couldn't care less about it. He wants me to know anyways. "Now, I don't have to endure it alone."
I beam at him. There is a method to the way he leads into some things, I noticed.
"If I didn't know it any better I would think you actually keep me around for good reasons."
"Ah, but I do Miss Hooper!" He goes along with me. "You are a fascinating person. I only associate with the best." I giggle as he sends me a wink.
"What should I be wearing to accompany you then, my good sir?" He rolls his eyes at this. We both know he isn't nearly as royal as we're talking here.
"Only the best of garments. Not too formal. Let's get back to the house and then we will discuss it further." I think he knows that I'm not at my best for I see him reaching down to assist me up onto my feet. I take his arm as gracefully as I can as I push myself up. It still hurts a lot but I manage just fine.
It is still early outside as we navigate out way out of the woods and back towards the house. It strange to not see any destruction from the attack from weeks ago. I decide to ask him about it later. I really want to shower first.
The house seems quiet and I look at a clock downstairs before we head up to his room, 8:43AM. It's significantly early. Perhaps I'll see more people later. I don't mind too much.
He leaves me at the door of the bathroom when I mention wanting to clean up a bit. He instinctually begins to tell me where the towels are at in the room, as if he forgets that I've been here before. He catches himself and stops for a moment before ushering me inside, saying nothing else as if embarrassed by his slip up. I only want to smile at his bashfulness. It seems like a very unlikely trait for him to have. He is human, as much I imagine he tries not to be. It's better than being a complete animal. He would hate that, I think.
I shut the door and quickly slip under the water jets of water after stripping from what is left of the rags that were covering me up. I'm half surprised that I was still wearing clothes after what Sherlock described on the way back. It was comforting to know I hadn't been naked as I came back to being human. That would have been embarrassing for me.
I do away with thinking about all of that as I enjoy this luxury of being able to do away with the dirt and grim of everything that I had been rolling in over the past weeks. It wasn't too bad, I was covered for the most part. My mind silent for once. I didn't want to think about anything that might happen next. It was certain that I couldn't just leave now, I had someone to deal with and entertain for the night.
Again, I found myself that being bothered by in the slightest. Sherlock was an interesting person.
It was as I was rinsing out the suds from the washing of my hair the first of the two times I thought would be adequate for it to be completely clean, that I heard the door opened. It wasn't just the door to the room, however. I stilled realizing that someone was in the shower with me.
Sherlock shouldn't do that. He respected my privacy for what little of it there was here. Nor should anyone else feel okay with slipping into my private time of having a wash.
I turn slowly and do a double take.
It is Sherlock but a part of me doesn't believe it. Not entirely.
I lean away from this person in disbelief. There is something wrong here and it has nothing to do with fact that it appears it is Sherlock Holmes. From the hair down to the muscles that are often hidden under his clothes. No, I comes to me quickly.
The eyes wrong. His eyes change sometimes but this is not one of the shades that I have seen. It's just not possible.
As he steps towards me I move from my position of pressed up near the spout and strike him once. He fumes and tries to hit me only, I am ready and I duck and go to kick him pushing him against the glass of the door. I do it again grabbing his hair and shoving him backwards and then smashing through the glass. He falls outside of the shower and hits the floor.
This person is bleeding, and unmoving. I swallow as I step out of there and over the broken glass that cuts into my feet to retrieve the towel. I can hear the sound of feet rushing towards the door and then Sherlock is yelling, asking if I'm alright. I don't know what to say so I wait. He shoves the door in and follows in.
I'm staring at the corpse when he comes in. I don't even think that I'm fully concealed from his eyes when he steps towards me. I don't look at him still and as his hands come around gripping the towels that I'm holding so carelessly in front of me and wrap it around me. I realize he's talking to me. "It's okay." He repeats it again, I think he thinks I'm in shock.
I may be.
I've never been in shock before. I just let him guide me out of the room and down the hall into his room. I register the feel of the glass in my feet and he must realize that I'm leaving a trail of blood as he grabs the first aid kit from a shelf in his room as I sit on the bed.
"He looked like you." I tell him. The image of the man who once stood so close to me in the shower shakes me. When he died, he had changed. He didn't look like him anymore. He had blonde hair that clung to his forehead and in straight locks and he was bulkier than he had been when he was exposed to me.
Sherlock doesn't say anything for a little while as he's taking tweezers and pulling the glass out and then fixing my feet up with ointment and bandages. When he's done he looks up at me. He still doesn't say anything. I tell him what I think. "A shape shifter, most likely. I've encountered them before. I don't know what one would want with me or why they would choose to take in the form of you."
He speaks quickly after that. His mind jumping quicker than I figured it would be when he knew so little about what was going on. "Logically speaking, they might think we are closer they we appear. Trying to make you feel safe by choosing someone you are acquainted with. However, I haven't the slightest clue why they would do that and attack you at the same time. Someone must be looking for a way to hurt me or my family."
"I haven't been here that long and I've been indisposed for weeks. They could have struck sooner."
"There have been people scoping out the house since then. I suppose seeing you come back made them think it was safe to infiltrate. No one would think anything of me coming into my own house. If anyone was around at the time."
"They might be now." She tells him.
Sherlock gets up, putting all the bloody pieces of cotton balls and the like in the trash, putting the kit back where it was before digging in his dresser for something. He tosses something at me. "Put that on for now. The party isn't until later."
"We're still going to go after that?" I asked him as I focused on putting on the shirt while he was turned away. He stayed turned away for a while as he tinkered with things on his desk.
"It would mean that we were disturbed by an intruder. No one knows about it, we'll remove the body and go on with the show later tonight."
"You're an odd bunch of people." I tell him once I'm done buttoning up. The shirt is entirely too large on me but it works after I roll up the sleeves. He passes me a pair of boxers as if that's a normal occurrence and I put them on too. I giggle thinking of how I must look in his clothes and he turns to look at me. He has a weird expression on his face but he doesn't say much else before his mother tumbles in with her face pale as the shirt I have on right now.
"There is a body in the bathroom. Oh! Molly, you're back!" She walks over to me as if we were the best of friends and takes my hands. "There is a party tonight, you'll be there of course."
Sherlock coughs, releasing me of this encounter that I don't know what to do with exactly. The last time I had seen his mother I had been in a very annoyed mood. "Yes." He answers for me. "We'll ask Fred to remove it from the premise and Mrs. Hudson to whip something up for Molly. I don't think she has anything to wear." He frowns, looking past his mother at me.
He looks troubled by this but then I remember something.
"Oh, you don't have to go to all that trouble. I have a dress."
"You do?" They both say, turning to look at me. Their resemblance is almost uncanny but I don't mention that as I nod.
"Yes, it's not in my bag obviously. You searched it I presume. I'll have to go fetch it. Its close enough by that it won't take me too long to get it."
They both just kind of stare at me, oddly. I just smile awkwardly.
Wait until they see the dress. I'm sure that will be a fun experience. The party might as well be too.
…
I was going to put the party in this chapter, but then I thought this was going to get way TOO long so I decided to let it wait until next chapter. This chapter has been on my mind for days and even though I've been in pain (my back has had me clutching my heating pad for days now), I just sat down and wrote this out finally, my brain is happy with me. Next chapter is going to be a lot of fun. We get to meet some important players. Anybody wanna guess who? Who sent the shape shifter? Could be one of the guests…might not be. We shall see. Hehe ;) I hope you all like, please let me know all your thoughts. Thanks.
much love,
day
