Disclaimer: Sherlock does not belong to me, it belongs to BBC and Doyle.

Reviews are awesome for those who are kind enough to leave one (no matter the type, cause sometimes harsh truth is needed). Thanks everyone for the lovely reviews, since I got the last chapter done a bit early I figured I would see if I could get this one done early too.


Chapter 8
John's POV
Growling under his breath, the alpha quickly gets to his feet, grabbing his coat and bolting towards the door without a second thought. The only thing on his mind was keeping up with his potential bondmate as much as possible to avoid something harming him. That looked like it was not going to be an easy task as Sherlock initially pulled his coat on and watched the cab carefully for a moment before heading towards it just as it began to pull away. Somehow he did not seem to notice the car that nearly smashed into him as he vaulted over the hood of it.

John apologizes to the driver of the car as he follows, trying to keep pace. A few yards down the road, his tall human stops. "I got the cab number," he tells the tall human.

"Good for you," comes his reply as he cups his head between his hands, muttering out loud as he figures out the route that the cabbie is going to take. He can just about see the thoughts running through the tall human's mind as he states each and every step along the way, suddenly, he jerks upright and takes off down the sidewalk. Only years of running allows him to keep up in any form with the taller human as he races through a building, shoving a person out of the way as he goes.

"Sorry," John tells the bloke as they rush up the steps.

From there the two of them take a variety of different buildings, ally's stairwells, roofs, roads, and sidewalks until they catch up with the cab. At one point he had balked at jumping from one building to another, but some prompting from the tall human has him following, allowing his wolf senses to take over the human form as he jumps. Above him he can hear Andrew laughing at the sight in his mind.

When the two of them catch up to the taxi, the dark-haired human stops it by jumping in front of it and shouting, "Police! Open her up!" Breathing heavily he tugs the backdoor open and stares at the person within, sighing in exasperation as he realizes it is not the correct person. "No." he mutters. He straightens for a moment before taking another look at him, muttering, "Teeth, tan: what – Californian?" glancing at the passengers luggage he continues, "L.A., Santa Monica. Just arrived."

"How can you possibly know that?" he demands of his potential bondmate as he catches his breath.

You're funny,Andrew tells him, guess what you forgot, guess you're feeling better aye elder?

He mentally rolls his eyes at the other shifter but a scent in the air catches his attention. Looking around he tries to figure out where it is from but cannot seem to do so.

"The luggage," the tall human replies, then turning his attention to the passenger, he queries, "It's probably your first trip to London, right, going by your final destination and the route the cabbie was taking you?"

The man in the cab almost reeks of startledness, frustrated, and a bit fear. His voice is confused as he asks, "Sorry – are you guys the police?"

"Yeah," the tall human at his side replies, flashing an I.D. badge, "Everything all right?"

Smiling faintly the bloke answers, "Yeah," though his scent loses the edge of fear he and becomes more disbelieving.

"Welcome to London," his tall companion tells the human in the cab before starting to walk away.

For a moment he stands there still until stepping forward to inform the bloke, "Er, any problems, just let us know," before shutting the door to the cab and rejoining Sherlock where he had stopped walking part way down the block. "Basically just a cab that happened to slow down," he comments as he tries figuring out what that familiar scent is, it has gotten fainter since walking away from the cabbie.

"Basically," his tall companion answers frustration in his tone as he looks around carefully.

"Not the murderer," he expresses.

"Not the murderer, no." comes his short reply as he keeps looking around.

Glancing down he says, "Wrong country, good alibi."

"As they go." he mutters, his hands trading the I.D. back and forth distractedly.

Reaching for and closing his fingers around the I.D. he inquires, "Hey, where-where did you get this? Here," as Sherlock releases it to his hand, making sure his fingers brush against those longer ones as he does so."Right," he murmurs, catching the scent of shock in the air as he looks over the card, "Detective Inspector Lestrade?"

Smirking slightly, the tall human comments, "Yeah, I pickpocket him when he's annoying. You can keep that one, I've got plenty at the flat."

Looking down at the card the absurdness of it all makes him start to chuckle, and he can't help but grin at it.

Confusion mars the tall human's features and scent as he softly asks, "What?"

He manages to stop chuckling, but smiles up at the taller man answering, "Nothing, just 'welcome to London'." He gives a small shake of his head, still smiling.

Apparently the dark-haired man understands because he smiles back at him before glancing down at the end of the road where the guy with the cab is speaking with one of the police. "Got your breath back?" he queries.

Still smiling, he answers, "Ready when you are," and the two turn, taking off again at a run.


They have just turned onto Baker Street when John slows to a walk, and Sherlock noticing, slows down to join him. "I have an offer for you," he tells the taller human.

"What?" Sherlock inquires, curiosity changing his scent just a little from the excitement and thrill.

"I would like to offer you a place within the pack." His tone is serious, alpha to outsider.

The tall human stops moving and stares at him for a moment. In turn, he stops directly in front of him so that they are face to face. He can just about feel the thoughts turning through the over active mind of the dark-haired human but he is saying nothing in order to give him a chance to consider it.

"Why?" Sherlock inquires in that direct manner, but he can hear the curiosity and fear that it is only a cruel joke in his tone.

"One: it feels right in my instincts; two: I think you would benefit from it; three: I am sure your curious mind wants to know everything it can on the subject and we do not allow outsiders to know anything about us; and four: it would make things a lot simpler." He replies, listing off some of his reasoning. He could probably come up with more, like the fact that they are bondmates, the fact that he was wasted in the human world, but he prefers just to stick with the simple ones.

The tall human tilts his head sides a bit, watching him with wide eyes as he considers it. Again he can just about feel the thought processes going on in his head. "What type of responsibilities would I have to deal with?"

A smile curves his lips, he is pretty sure that the human has already decided to do it but wants to make sure that he is not signing himself up for failure. "All pack members help each other as needed, this includes with the teaching of pups. You do not speak of the pack to outsiders, which means you would know something your family would not." He doesn't mention the fact he already knows about both brothers, including the fact he realizes that the person who borrowed him earlier was the elder. "You do not intentionally harm the pack. That sums it up, I am the alpha so in matters of health I tend override other people when they are not taking care of themselves, the same can be said about safety matters."

He nods slowly, eyes still wide as he considers it. Finally, a smile curves his he replies, "I'd love to."

He nods once solemnly, "Welcome to the pack, the formal binding will happen tomorrow night, most of the senior pack members will be here, so expect a slightly full flat."

The tall human nods, before turning and returning to running to the flat. He grins, and bolts after him, eagerly looking forward to when he has a chance to show Sherlock a run on a wolf's back. When the two of them get into the flat, they both strip off their coats, John hangs his on a wall hook, while Sherlock hangs his off of the banister instead.

Finally, leaning against the wall, he mutters, "Okay, that was ridiculous." Sherlock joins him, leaning against the wall as well as the two just breathe for a moment, that last little bit was more of a run then the rest it seems. "That was the most ridiculous thing I've ever done."

Somewhat seriously, the tall human comments, "And you invaded Afghanistan."

He laughs low in his throat, replying, "That wasn't just me." which causes the tall human to chuckle in response. "Why aren't we back at the restaurant?" he queries, curious as to the motivation for it.

His tall companion waves a hand dismissively as he answers, "Oh, they can keep an eye out, it was a long shot anyways."

A small frown crosses his features as he considers it, "So what were we doing there?"

The dark-haired human straightens up and clears his throat a bit, "Oh, just passing the time." He glances towards him, continuing, "And proving a point."

Curious, he glances at the tall human who has looked away from him, "What point?"

"You," he shortly replies, "Mrs. Hudson! Doctor Watson will take the room upstairs." As he says his name, Sherlock glances towards him with a small smirk.

Again the alpha in him bristles even though he had planned to do so, he really did not like being told what to do by a non-pack member. "Says who?" he almost demands.

The dark-haired human looks past him to the door, answering "Says the man at the door."

Just as he turns, he catches the scent of others in the building and looks towards the stairs but the quick knock at the door draws his attention back. Opening it, he is slightly surprised to see Angelo standing there with his cane in his hands.

"Sherlock texted me, said you forgot this," Angelo tells him as he hands it over.

Oh, he thinks, that's why Edward was laughing. How did I forget the cane? Internally he starts to chuckle, because really, it is rather funny. "Ah," he mumbles as he accepts the cane back, glancing back at Sherlock he is surprised to see the grin on his potential bondmate's face, "Thank you," he tells the human before stepping back in and shutting the door.

As soon as he does so, he catches the scent of other people again, this time actually identifying some of them. For some reason the detective inspector and several of men are in their flat upstairs. This is confirmed when Mrs. Hudson comes out of her flat and hurrying over to them, her scent full of sadness and confusion as she asks what he has done.

Confusion colors the taller man's tone as he queries, "Mrs. Hudson?"

"Upstairs," she tells him.

Taking three steps at a time, the tall human reaches the top of the staircase in nearly record time, throwing open the door to their flat as he does so. As soon as the door is open the smell of strangers becomes even more dominate and its all he can do to keep from growling in the back of his throat. It's not often that his territory as an alpha gets invade but he really in not taking it well. Particularly since he can smell the jackal-child detective inspector, the wolf-jackal omega detective, the shady human who she sleeps with, and several other humans in it, the two should know how dangerous a game that was.

When he gets to the top of the stairs Sherlock is standing in front of one of the armchairs that the detective inspector had pulled around to face the door, "What are you doing?" his dark-haired human demands, for a human he is a lot like one of the great cats in temperament.

Lifting his hands and motioning to the room he replies, "Well I knew you'd find the case, I'm not stupid."

I don't know about that, John mentally replies to him, surprising the other man according to his expression as he comes into the room.

"You can't just break into my flat," comes his flatmate's sharp response.

"And you can't withhold evidence. And I didn't break into your flat." Comes the quick response, he can just about feel the annoyance radiating from both of the men as they face off.

Snapping at the jackal-child, Sherlock demands, "Well, what do you call this then?" as he motions to the flat and all the people in it.

The detective looks around at everyone before giving a slightly sarcastic smile, answering, "It's a drugs bust."

The idea seems absurd to him, somehow he cannot picture his potential bondmate doing something so foolish, and he voices that opinion promptly. "Seriously? This guy, a junkie? Have you met him?" his tone is incredulous as he does so.

The jackal-child gives a smile as he watches Sherlock turn to face him, his face flushed and biting his lip in a rather endearing manner, "John…" his voice trails off. He can smell the embarrassment pouring off of him along with the anger and frustration.

He still glances past dark-haired human to the jackal-child and comments, "I'm pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn't find anything you could call recreational."

Still embarrassed, the dark-haired human just about hisses at him, "John, you probably want to shut up now."

His focus switches from the jackal-child to his potential bondmate, taking in the expression on his face and his scent as he does so, "Yeah, but come on…" he begins, but something in those sharp eyes he is watching makes him stop, "No."

"What?" Sherlock demands, his anger spiked, but the embarrassment fading.

"You?" he responds, his mind whirling. He had probably done so out of loneliness, anger, frustration, sadness. It was something he had seen in shifters that were without pack, their minds would drive them insane until they would do anything to keep from feeling like that.

"Shut up," comes the angry response before he spins back towards the jackal-child and snaps, "I'm not your sniffer dog."

Nodding towards the kitchen he replies, "No, Anderson's my sniffer dog."

"What, An…" his voice trails off as the divider between the living room and kitchen is opened to show the worthless human he had met earlier. "Anderson, what are you doing here on a drugs bust?"

Malice taints the smell in the room as he answers, "Oh, I volunteered."

The anger pouring off of Sherlock seems to increase as he turns away, biting his lip. He is pretty sure that the tall human is having a difficult time dealing with all of the people here. Part of him wants to comfort is bondmate, another part wants to manually throw each intruder out of his territory, after ripping their throats out of course. Instead he does neither, keeping an eye out on all of the people and taking a place by the door.

Slipping his phone into his hand he sends off a couple of text messages while Sherlock deals with them.

-Jacob, find out everything you can on a jackal-child Gregory Lestrade.-JW

-Full moon meeting will be at 221B Baker Street. It is a rebonding, merging the packs.-JW he sends out the second one to everybody in the pack, happy that his sister had set his phone up for mass texting. A moment later his phone chirps several different times as he hears the various people chime in that they will be there.

-Bondmate? - HW

-He will be there, I am welcoming him into the pack but I am not telling him a thing about bondmates. I would prefer that it is not mentioned to him because I do not want him to feel pressured. - JW

-Makes sense. See you on then.- HW

-Mouse, you have a task, you want the Sigma title and here is your chance. My bondmate is human, knows next to nothing of our kind. You get to teach him, however say nothing of each members rank within the pack or the fact we're bondmates.-JW

-Of course! I accept Elder.- Mouse

By the time he is done with his text messaging, he is surprised to see Sherlock standing in front of him. His mind quickly replays the conversation up to the point they are at and he sighs in sadness for the loss of a child, even if the person in question is a stranger and dead.

"No, that's not…" Sherlock's voice trails off, "that's not right. How…" again his voice trails off, full of confusion, "Why would she do that? Why?"

"Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup – sociopath; I'm seeing it now." the pasty human comments snidely from the kitchen area.

His dark-haired human turns to face him, snapping, "She didn't think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying. It took effort. It would have hurt." He turns and stalks away from him, beginning to pace.

"You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he makes them take it. Well, maybe he... I don't know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow." John remarks as he watches his potential bondmate and aching for the stress pouring off of him.

Stopping mid step with a hand on his head, he replies curiously, "Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?"

The room falls deathly silent, everyone stopping what they are doing to stare at him. The scent of disbelief and anger overriding pretty much everything else in the flat. Sherlock glances around awkwardly, realizing that something isn't right.

Confused he asks John, "Not good?"

He glances around the room as well, taking everybody in and replying, "Bit not good, yeah."

Coming towards him, the dark-haired human drops the tone of his voice asking, "Yeah, but if you were dying ... if you'd been murdered: in your very last few seconds what would you say?"

He gives a small shrug answering, "Please, God, let me live."

Frustrated he looks at him funny, "Oh, use your imagination!"

Completely serious he responds, "I don't have to."

Shock fills the dark-haired humans scent as he realizes what John means, followed by regret that is quickly washed out by his frustration. "Yeah, but if you were clever, really clever ... Jennifer Wilson running all those lovers: she was clever." Hands move as he speaks before he returns to pacing again, trying to think. "She's trying to tell us something." he mutters as he paces.

From the stairwell Mrs. Hudson comments, "Isn't the doorbell working? Your taxi's here, Sherlock."

"I didn't order a taxi. Go away." he snaps at her as he continues to pace about.

"Oh, dear. They're making such a mess. What are they looking for?" the older human female asks as she looks around the flat and all of the people in it.

Walking over to her, John tells her, "It's a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson."

Her eyes go wide and she touches her hand to her hip gasping, "But they're just for my hip. They're herbal soothers."

Finally, the frustration seems to be too much for the dark-haired human because he stops his pacing and throws his hands into the air yelling, "Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don't move, don't speak, don't breathe. I'm trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You're putting me off."

"What? My face is?" the human sounds insulted.

Keeping an eye on him the jackal-child barks out orders, "Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back."

Grumbling, the pasty faced human complains, "Oh, for God's sake!"

"Your back, now, please!" the jackal-child orders him, trying to be politer than John ever would have.

Walking across the room, John stays quite and focuses on releasing a calming aura into the room. There is way too much stress going on in this small space and his alpha instincts really want him to get all the damn people out. Since that's not an option yet, he settles for calming them. He settles into his spot on the armchair and just focuses on relaxing.

"What about your taxi?" the older human female frets from her spot by the door.

"Mrs. Hudson!" Sherlock just about roars as he turns to face her, as the small woman heads back out of the flat a look of understanding finally crosses his face. "Oh," he mutters, smiling in delight, "Ah! She was clever, clever, yes!" again he is talking with his hands as he paces at a slower rate this time. "She's cleverer than you lot and she's dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn't lose her phone, she never lost it. She planted it on him." he stops glancing at all of them before continuing, "When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer."

His scent changed from frustrated to pleased in the space of that one realization.

Confusion mars the jackal-child's voice as he inquires, "But how?"

"Wha...? What do you mean, how?" Sherlock demands staring at the jackal-child who just shrugs in response. "Rachel!" he exclaims as if it explains everything. "Don't you see? Rachel!" Again he puts emphasis on the name. When no one seems to understand him, he snaps sarcastically, "Oh, look at you lot. You're all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be so relaxing." He pauses, his tone getting stern, "Rachel is not a name."

Just as sternly he inquires, "Then what is it?"

Before he takes a seat at the laptop, the dark haired human points to the suitcase saying, "John, on the luggage, there's a label. E-mail address."

He turns to the suit case and reads the label aloud before getting to his feet and going over to where his potential bondmate is seated. As he is doing that, the dark-haired human is quickly typing and muttering to himself, explaining himself as he goes.

Sarcastically he states, "And all together now, the password is?"

"Rachel," he replies, standing directly behind him.

From his spot in the kitchen the pasty faced human remarks, "So we can read her e-mails. So what?"

Distractedly he tells other human, "Anderson, don't talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It's a smartphone, it's got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She's leading us directly to the man who killed her."

Once the information is entered, the dark-haired human gets to his feet, answering Mrs. Hudson who has commented again, the jackal-child, and just generally commenting. Taking his seat, John watches the little alert notice spin as it tracks it down. As a set of footsteps comes up the stairs a familiar scent catches his attention and he tunes out everything but that scent. Moments later a shrill voice echoes through his mind.

Elder, your human is getting into a cabbie. What do you want me to do?

His eyes widen as he realizes what the smell is, it's the cab driver from earlier when they chased the car, it is also the second human scent he had identified off of the bag when Sherlock first brought it in. Follow them, will be behind you shortly.

Understood.