(9) Cursed Alternative

"Well, he's mad that he & his family have been kicked out the whole country for a while," John said as he entered the flat after being with Lestrade for a while. "I had to really convince him to go. Do you know how hard it is to convince someone when you know the truth & they don't but you can't tell them?" He sighed heavily, flopping down in his chair.

"You did the right thing John," said Mycroft. "Sherly, I'll send Jacob over later this evening." He picked up his brolly & left.

"Who's Jacob?" John asked. Sherlock put his goblet on the table by the sofa. He came to stand in front of John, hands clasped in front of him. "What, have I been a bad doggie?"

Sherlock smiled at him for a moment, briefly amused. "No, but you are in a lot of trouble."

"What did I do, or didn't do?" John teased. Sherlock took one of John's hands in between his own. He stroked the top of John's hand with a long index finger, then bent to kiss the same spot. John's brow shot into his hairline. "Um, Sherlock?"

"You've been caught by a snare," Sherlock knelt down in front of him, releasing John's hand. "Micah is the murderer we're after right now."

"I know that."

Sherlock tapped something out on his mobile & handed it to John. A small map of London was on it with five red dots. "Each dot is where the five murders happened." He pressed a finger between John's to press another button. The dots became connected by lines. "The Pentagram. Each murder was laid out sacrificially. John, all vampires & Lycans have some sort of what one would say magical power. Most are weak & basic. Like that barricade of blue fire Enola used on you. Very few can do something strong like this. No Holmes can. Micah de LaCie on the other hand."

"You told me some vampires posed as sorcerers," said John. "But so they don't have to kill. Micah does."

"I said so they don't have to kill for blood," Sherlock corrected. "Most was so they don't have to kill at all. He isn't one of them. He uses his powers for his own gain."

"So what does a Pentagram do?"

"It's a horrible curse," Sherlock stood up. "For Lycans in this case. As if lycanthropy isn't a bad enough curse."

John let the mobile fall to the floor. "What?"

"You're not going to make it for that court date, John," Sherlock picked up the mobile to hand it back. "You'll either be locked on the grounds of the Holmes castle, or dead."

"Why would you lock me up at the castle?"

"Full moon. I can't have you running about London killing everyone."

"I'm not active. You said so yourself."

"The Pentagram was completed with you at the center of it," Sherlock explained. "Its spell can be manipulated a bit, depending how the altars are set, to affect a certain Lycan with anything. In you're case, since you're not awakened; it is set to kill you in the cruellest way possible. The only way to escape this one is to awaken. Kill another Lycan. However, do that & you're exposed to the full moon. Either way, you're going to be in too much pain the date of your court appearance that you simply won't make it. You'll either curl up & die or curl up & wish to die."

John whimpered, sounding frightfully close to the sound of a puppy. He cleared his throat. "Sherlock ..."

"Don't be too frightened of the moon," Sherlock went on. "It won't kill you but it will make you suffer."

"In a week, someone dies then? Is that what you're telling me?" John's voice was a horse whisper. He thought back to that kiss on his hand. Sherlock had never done that before. What had been a fantasy was now forced into reality. John had hoped to forgot the lycanthropy. He wasn't awake to it & had planned on keeping it that way. Given how serious—somber—Sherlock was, John was hit with a fear he hadn't felt before, despite his disregarding belief about what he was.

Sherlock turned away, his reply inaudible to human ears, yet John heard it. John always had exceptional hearing. Now he knew why. "I am...so...sorry, Dear Watson."

John stood up behind Sherlock, placing both hands on each of his shoulder blades. "Despite what you think of me, I am not a cold blooded murderer. I shot the cabbie in defence of you, not just to kill someone. I can't go out & kill some random dog just to spare my life. You know I can't. I hope you know anyway."

"Then you're dead by next Tuesday," Sherlock turned to face John. "It is your life & your choice but before you make that decision final, there is a war going on still. Of vampires & Lycans. You're a soldier."

"So bats & mutts are against each other then?" John tried to laugh in spite of everything.

"No," Sherlock explained. "Lycans are to vampires as common dogs are to humans. So there are both on either side. Grant & Watson were always loyal to the Holmes, well until your clan betrayed us. Your pack has since gone rogue, going more & more towards humans. It's been a long time since a Watson wolf took interest in my family again."

"I didn't even know you existed until Mike Stamford set us up," John put in. Sherlock started laughing mirthlessly. "What?"

"You have no idea how close you came to death that day," Sherlock said.

"No," John laughed as well. "Vampire was the last thing on my mind when I first saw you. Weirdo, on the other hand ..."

"No John," Sherlock shook his head. "I meant the death of you. I nearly killed you the moment Mike uttered your last name."

"Oh?" John sat down again.

"Mike had brought in one or two other people for me," Sherlock began. "But it didn't work. Then he brought you in. At first glance, I knew you were military. You know, the usual. Then he said your name. It turned me colder than usual. A Watson! Standing before again. How dare he? In that nanosecond, several things went through my mind, all for my sister. The only thing that stopped me from spreading a wing to sever your head from your shoulders was Mike. Simple human Mike. I was never so frustrated in my life & had half a mind to get rid of the human as well just to destroy you but I & my family try to spare the innocent, dumb as they can be at times. You got lucky."

"You hated me."

"Oh yes! I could barely stand the sight of you."

"Wow," John rubbed his forehead. He knew it shouldn't but this information was bothering him. Hated by Sherlock? It hurt. Even though he wasn't hating him now. "I didn't feel any of that. After the initial, 'he's such a weirdo' feeling past, I was rather intrigued by you. Something alluring about you."

"Yeah about that," Sherlock didn't act surprised. "That was done on purpose. Remember how I flirted with you? Swaggered by. Wink & smile."

"Yeah, you did come off as a bit gay, not that there's a thing wrong with that," John smiled. "But you said you're not."

"No, I'm not," Sherlock said. "but all vampires do have one basic power. Charm. We can seduce anyone to do anything. A bit like a mermaid at sea with sailors. I wanted you to come home with me but … so I could kill you. Here."

John shot to his feet. "You put a spell on me just to lure me here?"

"Yes," Sherlock admitted flat out to his face.

John scoffed. "Is any of our friendship real then?"

"Of course," Sherlock went on hastily. "A simple charm spell doesn't last long. It wears off in a day or two."

"Am I under any of your enchantments now?"

"No, that was the only one," Sherlock said. "Well that I did. LaCie's Pentagram is a problem though."

"Why didn't you kill me then?"

"You weren't active," Sherlock said. "It shocked me. The Watson clan have all gone to sleep. After the attack on Ennie, we didn't monitor your pack. That's how upset we all were. In fact, Shane & Adrian … well, they went out," He sighed heavily. "They slaughtered half the pack."

"What?"

"A few got away but," Sherlock paused. "You nearly went extinct. Probably why Watson's mingled with humans. So when one came crawling back into my life—you—everything was so different. You were still Lycan but didn't even know it. So, sorry but, as Moriarty said—oh he had no idea! You really were my pet for a while. I kept you close. Studied you. Since you knew nothing of your past or mine, I decided perhaps I wouldn't have to kill you after all. Your pack had been weakened both by slaughter & human blood. You were no longer a threat."

"Unbelievable," John murmured to himself. He looked Sherlock up & down. This man who he thought a friend had very nearly ended up being his executioner. He blinked his eyes dry before looking up to meet Sherlock's gaze. "So, you're telling me that I was pretty much your prisoner, under house arrest here, all this time?"

"No. Only up until I saw that bomb strapped to you," Sherlock said. "Moriarty's captive."

"It took you that long to actually start caring?"

"Took me even longer to admit it," Sherlock added. "Not until Baskerville when you got mad at me. For some reason, I was really bothered by that. You have no idea how hard it was for me to admit you were right." He scowled at John, vibrating a little with impatience. "It's a rare occurrence. Don't expect it to happen again."

John smiled in amusement, taking both Sherlock's hands into his own. "This all ends Tuesday." Sherlock looked away, focusing on a teacup at the table. "I can't simply kill just to spare my own life unless it's in defence. I won't go out hunting random victims just to live."

"I know," Sherlock finally muttered, looking back at John.

"I have to ask you something," John suddenly went on. "Something very hard. You must make sure whatever random cases we work on from now until then, it can't involve Lycans. If I have to shoot someone to keep you safe again, like that cabbie, make sure it's human. In fact, better still, keep out of trouble until then."

"Understood."

John pulled Sherlock into his embrace, ignoring the sudden abrasive stiffness. Sherlock soon softened as John sighed. One week left to live. He began thinking about all the things he wanted to do. He suddenly pushed Sherlock back a bit, staring incredulously at him. "That's why you were interested in that Baskerville case. When Henry mentioned paw prints of a big hound. You thought of Lycans didn't you?"

Sherlock groaned disapprovingly. "I can't believe how stupid I was on that one. Just drugs. No wolves."

"You solved the case though."

"Yeah, whatever," Sherlock was still unhappy with himself for ever bothering with it.

"So now what?" John asked after smacking Sherlock over the head for being such a dork.

"We have to deal with LaCie."

"I can't get involved."

"It's us against him," Sherlock said. "Like it or not, his Pentagram summoned you to that war. He wants the Watson clan active again. Why though, I don't know."

"So why kill me if I'm not awakened?"

"You're useless to him as an unaware wolf somehow so he might as well get rid of you."

"Thanks old friend, really nice," John glared before laughing.

"There are a few very bad Lycan clans out there," Sherlock went on after a moment. "If you decide to join us, you have about a week to track down & get rid of any one of them that we've been trying to get rid of for a few centuries. So really, what are your odds? Good luck."

"You lost me after you said centuries," John blinked. "I thought wolves aren't immortal?"

"You aren't," Sherlock said. "as a non-active one, you last about as long as a human. Awakened? You have about a millennia to live."

"Whoa!" John fell cross-legged to the floor, staring at nothing. "That's a long time."

"You suffer every month of that life though," Sherlock warned. "To be honest, you might actually prefer death this coming Tuesday. It will hurt like hell, but it will end. Full moons never end & after a few decades of them, you'll learn to hate it. Not to mention centuries of them. A thousand years. Unless Harry awakens, you'll bury her at let's say 90 but not much older, her looking like the age…you? Looking like pretty much now."

"Like I said," John reiterated. "I don't want to murder anyone for this either."

"I'll keep you away from Lycans not loyal to Holmes," Sherlock said. "It's the law of the Pentagram. You can either join by awakening or die. You choose death. Even I can't stand in your way."

John lay back on the floor, staring up to the ceiling. Sherlock moved to the kitchen to make tea, giving the war doctor some space. He kept his back to the doctor. He was losing John in a week. Damn the spell. There was nothing he could do except work on John's mind. "Sherlock, what are a Lycan's weaknesses?"

"Changed your mind?" Sherlock said in a relieved breath.

John ignored him for the moment. "I mean, can I touch silver? Does wood kill me? What?"

"Silver is a myth," Sherlock shrugged, turning back to the teapot. "You can die any way a human can."

"Good," John got up. He was soon rummaging about in the drawer where they kept their guns. He pulled Sherlock's out & handed it over to him. "When the time comes, shoot me please?"

"John..."

"Would you rather I suffer this terrible death you just told me about?"

"Well no, of course not."

"Then shoot me, right here," John pressed his right index finger to the spot between the eyes. "Don't hesitate. When it starts, end it. Fast."

Sherlock pushed his hands up into his hair, ruffling the wave into odd shaped curls. Did the war hero not care what he was putting the Consulting Detective through? But no. He was Sherlock. Cold as stone. Can't let on that he cared. Sherlock ended up muttering at least, "I hate Micah de LaCie."

"Then avenge me after."