Chapter summary:

John and Sherlock head into their first night of undercover work. What will they find?

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CHAPTER 20: The Fight Club Day 1

Sherlock sat in his armchair, legs curled up in front of him. His hands held the gun that Scotland Yard had loaned to him for the case. It felt heavy as he fingered over the trigger, all that power held back by one little lever. He sighed softly and reached up, scratching behind one ear. Months ago he was just another hybrid kept for his owner's pleasure. Now he was getting ready to aid Scotland Yard to break open a case. How in the world had his life ended up here? His ears stood up a little straighter at the soft ruffling that came from the direction of the bedroom. Well, of course, the biggest cause of the change in his life was in the form of one particular doctor.

It really hadn't been very long since their meeting in the hybrid market, but so many things had happened that it felt like a lifetime ago to Sherlock. He still remembered clearly the first few weeks as they stumbled around each other, testing out the borders and boundaries of each other. Sherlock in particular had to re-learn what he was permitted to do and what he wasn't. Crawling, kneeling, hiding his discomfort from John made the doctor frown, bad. Talking, cooking, hugging John made him smile and laugh, good.

Initially Sherlock had been cautious, always on the look out for traps, fearing that John will suddenly change one day and punish him for taking liberties. It had been difficult to convince himself to lower his guard and fully trust the doctor. John, however, had been endlessly patient and slowly, Sherlock realized his shield had fallen. His smiles became more genuine, his laughs more relaxed. He didn't hesitate anymore before touching the older man, and he didn't worry about getting hit for voicing his thoughts.

"Sherlock? You in here?" John's voice called out as the man appeared in the kitchen doorway.

He spotted Sherlock and smiled, walking over to give him a kiss on the top of his head.

"Good morning, did you manage to get some sleep?"

Sherlock had been a ball of energy last night, eager for today when they will finally head to the fight club at night. He couldn't sleep, fidgeting around in bed tossing and turning. Finally, the restless hybrid had given up altogether and sat down with his laptop, reading some news to try and calm himself down.

"I fell asleep on the sofa, but now I can't turn my head more than thirty degrees to the right. That is not a good place to sleep."

John laughed and gave him a sympathetic look, walking around behind Sherlock to wrap his hands at the base of the pale neck. Gently, he rubbed at the muscles there, pressing and stroking to try and loosen the strained tendons. Sherlock purred and leaned in, his head dropping forward, tail twitching where it was draped over the armrest.

"You should take a nap later, on the bed. You'll need to be fully awake for tonight," the doctor told him, leaning down to kiss his head.

Sherlock nodded absently, unable to think about anything else except how wonderful this felt.

"Uhn...I...made breakfast. It's on the kitchen table."

John smiled and pressed a little harder, working his fingers at the curve of Sherlock's neck. It felt tense, the muscles were hard, but under the pressure of his fingers they slowly loosened, causing Sherlock to mewl softly.

"I know, thank you. Did you eat yet?"

Sherlock turned and peered at John hopefully.

"No, I...I thought we could eat together..."

The doctor leaned in and kissed the tip of his nose, eyes twinkling with amusement.

"On the sofa?"

An enthusiastic nod followed the question, Sherlock knowing exactly what eating on the sofa meant. He jumped up, straightening his dressing gown around himself and bounded into the kitchen to bring the plates of food over to the coffee table. John headed to the sofa and sat down on one side, opening his arms and immediately finding them full of one cuddling Sherlock. Long legs stretched out on the sofa as the brunet leaned back. He took one of the plates and held it for John as the doctor picked up a piece of peeled orange and held it to Sherlock's mouth.

It had been a while since they had time to indulge like this. They had been so busy preparing for the case that every morning they rushed out of the flat and down to Scotland Yard, coming back late at night too tired to cook. Today, however, Lestrade had told them to take it easy until the evening. They'll head to Scotland Yard later in the afternoon for a final check before going in. Lestrade, Sally, Adams and Rollfurd will wait in a disguised van about a block from the actual place, and once they make sure everything's OK, they'll give the signal for John and Sherlock to go. It shouldn't get too exciting tonight, just get inside, get a feel for the place, see how it all works, and then leave.

Hybrid fight clubs themselves weren't illegal, but most people still disliked them enough to stay away. Several attempts had been made to outlaw them but the activists couldn't push it through parliament. When hybrid fight clubs first started cropping up, the police used to raid them to bust drug deals and prostitution, so the organizers had taken precautions to hide the fights from the authorities. It had been a hassle finding the location for tonight. A special phone number circulated among those involved and every time a fight club was held they had to call the number to get a password and location. The number was changed often as extra security, but Lestrade had managed to wrangle it out of a drug dealer they busted in exchange for a deal. He had been a supplier of drugs at previous fights and told them that once they get into one, it'll be easier to get into others if they talked to the right people.

Sherlock swallowed his food and leaned up, licking John's fingers.

"Are you nervous about tonight?" He peered up at John.

"A little. These aren't exactly happy, friendly people we'll be meeting."

Slender fingers picked up a piece of toast and held it up for John, who took a bite.

"We'll be fine. As long as they don't find out we're with the police, they won't do anything to us."

"I know, but it just makes me uncomfortable. And having to treat you like...that."

For the first few days of training, they had kept Leo with John until he had gotten used to having someone crawl behind him. Once he could walk around without grimacing and looking guilty, they had switched Leo with Sherlock. That had almost made John give up this whole thing. Knowing it would happen and actually seeing it had been entirely different. To see his Sherlock on hands and knees, crawling towards him, leashed and head down obediently had made John almost punch out a window. He had felt so fiercely protective that he had to leave the room for a few minutes just to catch his breath.

Sherlock hadn't cared so much, although the position had initially made his muscles ache. He had gotten used to walking upright and his hands and knees were sore after an hour of crawling. He also had to remember things like not letting his tail trail behind him as it tended to when he was walking just on two legs. A few times, someone had ended up tripping or stepping on the appendage by accident making him yowl and hiss.

When they had John take Sherlock out of the building, it had been a strain for both parties. Sherlock couldn't rely on sight anymore since his head was down most of the time, and the noises around him had made him nervous now that he couldn't see. John walked slowly, making sure Sherlock wasn't getting dragged along, but that meant the people around them were walking past and sometimes they knocked into Sherlock in their haste. Then, the situation had been worsened when Sherlock's hand had accidentally landed over a piece of broken glass, causing a gash from the centre of his palm to the base of his thumb. It hadn't been a deep cut, but John had felt and looked so guilty afterwards when he bandaged it up that Sherlock thought he might lock himself away in the bedroom and sulk for an entire evening.

John hugged Sherlock tightly to himself, rubbing his ears and kissing them. Both of them enjoyed the rest of their breakfast quietly, sharing snuggles and soft kisses.

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The two burst into Scotland Yard later that day, eager and anxious to get this evening done and over with. They had done some shopping earlier for clothes that would be more appropriate for their roles. John was wearing dark, navy blue jeans with a brown belt, a short-sleeved, silky black shirt tucked into the waist. He had left the top two buttons of the shirt undone creating a V shaped collar around his neck.

Sherlock's clothes were much more revealing, tight black leather pants that showed off his legs with every move coupled with a black tank top, fishnet in front and silky in the back. His collar was wrapped around his neck, the tag custom ordered for this case showing a fake address and contact information. The colour of his outfit contrasted sharply against Sherlock's skin making him seem even paler than usual. They had even gotten him a cuff for his tail, silver with elegant swirls carved into it. It sat near the base, sparkling when the light reflected off the surface.

Quickly, they were fitted with the cameras and microphones. For John, they pinned a silver pin of a coiled up snake on his shirt, the eyes looking like a gemstones when in fact there was a camera lens in one. The microphone was only slightly bigger than a match head, attached to the inside of his shirt near the collar.

For Sherlock, it was a little more difficult since his clothes made it hard to hide anything. Instead, they got an ear cuff that had a camera built in and pinned the microphone to the underside of his collar, running the wire to the back, using his hair to cover it until it disappeared under his tank top. They couldn't risk ear pieces since they'll be talking to people in close vicinity and the wires behind their ears would be discovered, but the officers will be able to hear everything they say.

Lestrade and the other Scotland Yarders headed out first, setting up their equipment in the van. They had access to the CCTV cameras outside the establishment and they kept track of who went in and who came out. Around ten, Sherlock and John arrived, hiding behind some buildings and watching the entrance for a few minutes.

"Ready?" John's fingers gripped the leash in his hand tightly, glancing between the door and Sherlock.

"Yes, breathe John. We'll be fine," leather clad legs bent down as Sherlock got into position, looking up at his owner with a nod.

"Right, breathe. Breathe. Let's go."

The two stepped forward, John keeping his head up and trying to appear confident. Sherlock crawled after him, tail draped over his back as the muscles rose and fell with his movements.

From the outside, one couldn't tell there was anything there. The building looked small, but once John knocked, the door opened to reveal a man in a business suit. He smiled, looking friendly and inconspicuous, but he gave John and Sherlock a once over. At his side, hidden under the suit jacket, John detected the bulge indicating the presence of a gun.

"I'm looking for Mr. Brook. Mr. Richard Brook," John told him.

Immediately, the man's eyes lit up and his smile widened.

"Oh, lovely. New here? Haven't seen you around before."

"Yes, first time. I'm interested in the business Mr. Brook offers."

"Why yes of course, and what a lovely pet you've got with you."

The man bent down and ran his hand along Sherlock's jaw, tilting his head up. John swallowed as he felt his heart pounding, watching the man run his fingers through Sherlock's hair. Sherlock kept his eyes lowered, never meeting the other's gaze like the obedient pet he was suppose to play. He was pliant, allowing himself to be inspected , but John saw how tense his tail was.

"Well, come in then. Come and join us," the guard finally beckoned, standing up and waving the pair in.

Inside the door was another set of doors, and the guard knocked three times before it opened. He motioned for John and Sherlock to go on in where another man was waiting. He was bigger than the first man, taller and clearly meant to intimidate.

"Watching or fighting?" He asked.

"Just watching, for now," John replied without missing a beat.

The man nodded and pointed to a set of stairs that led down.

"Door on the right, knock twice."

Sherlock followed John down the steps, noting that the doctor walked a little slower so that he wouldn't accidentally take a tumble down into the cement below. When they reached the door, muffled sounds could be heard from the other side. Loud music and an occasional cheer or scream. John rapped his knuckles on the door twice as instructed and it opened quickly.

"Good evening sir. Would you like someone to watch your hybrid for you?" The seductive voice of a woman floated out as a figure clad in a skin tight red dress appeared in the doorway.

"Uh, no, no, thank you. I'd like him with me."

"Very well," she purred, winking at him before stepping aside to let them in.

John swept his eyes over the room, taking it in. In the direct centre was a ring, boxed off by a metal fence with spikes at the top. It wasn't very high, only came up to about John's chest, but the spikes at the top looked fearfully sharp. Spotlights shone on the arena in keeping it well lit.

The periphery and along the walls it was dimly lit, but John could make out people mingling around. Some stood, holding drinks and watching the fight, others lounged in cushioned sofas and armchairs, looking more engaged in conversing than in the hybrids in the centre of the room. Beautiful women and handsome men walked around holding trays with drinks, offering them to the guests and in the corner there was a bar where people could order specific drinks.

All in all, it was much more...luxurious than the doctor had imagined. He let out a breath and walked in towards the ring. Two hybrids were already in there, and he could hear the growls and hisses as they lunged towards one another. A man and a woman sat on opposite sides of the arena, outside the fence, clearly the owners of the two fighters, watching. Both hybrids were female, one had small round ears on her head but her arms and legs looked unusually large, muscles bulging powerfully. The other was a slender fox hybrid. Her orange-ish tail was tipped white, ears large and at attention.

The fox hybrid leaped into the air, nails ready to strike like claws. The other one jerked back, dodging out of the way, but was caught in the arm, leaving four deep, bloody stripes. She twisted and rounded on the slender hybrid, lips pulled back and teeth snapping. Her jaws closed around the long, bushy tail and she yanked hard. The fox hybrid yelped, trying to kick and claw to get free.

"That's right, baby! Keep at it! Don't let her go!" The male owner yelled, leaping to his feet.

Blood dripped down the larger hybrid's chin as her teeth broke skin, staining the fur around her mouth. She reached out a hand and caught one of her victim's legs, flipping her over onto her back.

"DAMMIT! Get up! Get up Siren! Get that stupid bear off of you!" The female owner screamed at her hybrid.

Frightened, the slender fox hybrid hissed, trying to get away but the other hybrid pinned her down, clearly her muscular limbs having an advantage. Her teeth let go of the tail and she slammed a hand down into the smaller hybrid's chest, right between her ribcage. Before the fox hybrid could catch her breath, her attacker raised a hand, fist landing across the victim's cheek. A pained yelp echoed in the room, but the attacker didn't stop, slamming her fists down over and over again, until the cries softened into whimpers.

It was clear the fight was over and a man in a dark wine-coloured suit stepped into the ring. He had a gun drawn and shot at the ground, startling the larger hybrid into stopping her assault. She growled, eyes glaring, but she backed away as the man stepped in and checked the fox hybrid. A few onlookers looked up at the gunshot and gathered around the fence to see the final result.

"That round goes to Mr. Saton! Congratulations!"

A few people applauded and cheered as the two owners headed into the ring. The man happily shook the ref's hand, then went to collect his hybrid as the lady went to the downed hybrid, who was barely conscious. John saw her face was swollen and her tail was a mess, but the owner only gave her a kick.

"Useless garbage! What the HELL was that?!"

John watched, swallowing down his urge to jump in. The hybrid was clearly in a lot of pain and needed medical attention fast, she probably had severe internal injuries, bruised ribs and clearly her tail was badly torn. Her jaw was at least dislocated from the pounding and it looked like she couldn't breathe properly.

The doctor felt a tug on the leash in his hand and looked down to find Sherlock glancing up at him. He looked much more composed than his owner, but his jaws were clenched tight. It looked like he had purposely pulled a cold, uncaring veil over his face to mask anything feelings he was having and his eyes looked almost dead. It was chillingly similar to when John had first saw him at the market.

The brunet nodded his head a bit towards one of the seats near the wall. A man sat, leaning back in an armchair and looking completely at ease. His arm was around a beautiful hybrid with sleek black wings who sat beside him on the armrest, legs crossed. A second hybrid knelt between his open legs, resting her head on his thigh. It looked like she had round ears similar to the hybrid who was in the fight, but her tail was long and slender, orange with black stripes. A tiger hybrid.

John cleared his throat and walked over, re-focusing his mind to the reason why he was here. Mingle, talk, get information, right.

"Is this seat taken?" The doctor asked, motioning to another armchair beside the man.

"Oh, no, go right ahead."

John nodded his thanks and sat down, Sherlock quietly crawling to his side and sitting back on his legs.

"He's a beauty, cat?"

"Yes, got him just a few months ago."

"Well lucky you. Look at those sharp eyes, I bet he'd be quite an opponent in a fight."

"We actually haven't been in any fights yet."

"Oh, no? First time? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"Yes, first time. I'm John, by the way," the doctor extended his hand.

The man immediately clasped it and gave him a warm handshake.

"Karl, with a 'K'. What do you think?" He gestured to the now empty ring.

"It's interesting. That was...pretty intense."

"Well it was obvious who would win. Anyone with an ounce of common sense wouldn't have put a fox up against a bear, but that lady, her name's Sandra, word is that she lost a ton of money in a bad investment recently, so she's trying to make some back through her hybrids. She's got a whole reserve of them back at her estate, every time she comes in you can be sure her hybrids will be fighting. Horrible tactician though, always puts her hybrids up against the toughest opponents. Granted if they win she makes a lot of money, but usually they end up half dead."

"Oh? How do they match up the hybrids? I was thinking maybe in the future I can put my Sherlock in a fight."

John reached down and ruffled Sherlock's hair, trying to sound as casual as possible. What he had saw made his stomach churn and just trying to imagine the pale hybrid in the ring was unbearable.

"In that case you'll want to talk to Timmings. He was that guy in the purple suit, the ref for tonight. He does the registrations for the fighters. The hybrids are split into different groups based on their breed. Level 1 are the lowest, the mice, rabbit and other rodent breeds. Then up from that in level 2 you get the cats and dogs, some birds too. Level 3 are some of the deer types, the ones with antlers, antelopes and such. 4 are the big cats, lions, tigers, panthers, along with the wolves. That's also the level for the birds of prey, eagles and the like. Level 5 are the highest, mostly the bears. They also separate the aquatic hybrids from the land-based ones. A cat fighting in water against a fish hybrid wouldn't exactly be fair.

Last time there was a match between a polar bear hybrid and a grizzly. That had been a sight to behold. By the end the ring was coated in blood.

Normally the hybrids fight in their own level, but you can request that they match your hybrid with a more powerful group. You'd get more money if your hybrid wins in that case."

John nodded, committing everything he was being told to memory.

"Well that makes sense. Have you ever had your hybrids fight?"

"Yeah, last time my baby here had a fight against an eagle. She's a crow hybrid, but she taught that eagle a lesson, didn't you?" Karl smiled smugly at the hybrid in his arm who leaned down and kissed his cheek.

"So, who runs these fights anyway? I mean, someone's got to pick the place and set all this up, right?"

Karl thought for a minute then shrugged.

"Don't know. Rumour is that it's a man, but that's all anyone knows. I've heard he sometimes comes to watch the fights, but if he does I've never met him and I've been coming for a while now."

"Karl, darling, it's so delightful to see you again!"

A woman sauntered up to them, leaning down to kiss the man on the lips. She glanced at John questioningly then held out a hand.

"Hello, I'm Christina."

John stood up and introduced himself. At her feet was a dog hybrid, muscular and even in the bad lighting John could see the scars on his naked torso. They chatted for a bit, Christina perching herself on the armrest of John's chair.

"Well John, your Sherlock really is so adorable."

She bent down and stroked a hand down Sherlock's back, making him go rigid.

"Oh, I MUST go get a drink at the bar. John, be a dear, will you watch my boy for me? I'll just be a moment."

Before the doctor could respond, she had shoved the leash into his hand and walked off.

"It looks like another fight's starting, excuse me John. I'd like to see this one up close."

Karl smiled at the doctor and pulled his two hybrids along as he headed for the ring. This time it was a deer versus an antelope. The horns clashed loudly as people placed their bets and sat down by the ring to watch.

Sherlock glanced over at the dog hybrid the Christina had placed in John's care. His eyes were fixed on his owner who was taking her sweet time getting to the bar. She seemed to stop every few steps to talk to people and coo over their hybrids.

"Burger," Sherlock said quietly, reading the tag.

The hybrid's head turned and glared at Sherlock, turning back with a huff.

"Fight much, Burger?" Sherlock asked, keeping his voice quiet so no one else could hear.

He was promptly ignored and Sherlock flicked his tail in annoyance.

"Bet you're all muscle and no brain," he taunted.

In the blink of an eye, Burger was on him, knocking him to the ground and pinning him there with one hand around Sherlock's throat. He growled and lowered his face, snapping his teeth dangerously close to the pale hybrid's ears.

"Shut up."

John yanked both of their leashes and dragged Burger off of Sherlock.

"Knock it off, both of you!"

Sherlock and Burger lowered themselves to the floor in an act of submission, keeping their eyes to the ground

Sherlock stifled a smirk as he peered at the other hybrid through the corner of his eyes.

"Bet I can take you in a fight."

Burger's ears twitched and let out a warning growl.

"In your dreams. I can snap your skinny little spine in two."

Sherlock scoffed and narrowed his eyes at Burger.

"I happen to be a champion fighter in my previous city. Beat opponents a lot bigger than you."

He was rewarded with a disbelieving look.

"Liar. Prove it."

Sherlock's smirk widened. Perfect opening.

"My owner's too concerned that a lot of the hybrids fighting in London's fight clubs have turned up dead. He won't let me."

"Oh, the dead ones. Yeah, I heard about them too. I knew some of them."

"Yeah? You know how they died?"

"Nope. Some of them were winning pretty good for their owners."

"I heard the police didn't find any records of owners for them."

"That's because the police are idiots. What hybrid doesn't have an owner? Actually, one of the ones that got killed, I knew him pretty well. His owner comes a lot, still does. My owner asked about it but he just said he sold the hybrid and didn't know what happened after that."

Before Sherlock could keep prying, Christina breezed back, taking the seat Karl had vacated and pulling her hybrid to her side..

"So, enjoying the show? Slow night tonight, nothing too exciting on the schedule from what I hear."

John gave her a smile and shrugged.

"I'm just checking the scene out."

"Ah, yours a fighter? He looks kind of slim."

"Well, one of his previous owners had him doing some fights, but it's new for me."

"Oh, well if you're looking to train him for it, I know some good places. They trained Burger here too, and he almost never loses these days."

"Yeah? He does look like a tough opponent."

"Totally. Once Burger sinks his teeth into someone he doesn't let go, isn't that right dear?"

She leaned down, scratching behind the hybrid's ears which made him smile proudly.

"You wouldn't happen to know who runs this, do you? I'd like to meet them before putting Sherlock in the ring."

"Ah, sorry, love. That I don't know. I just show up where the voice on the phone tells me."

"But they were saying how a low of hybrids have been turning up dead recently, and I heard a rumour it was connected to fight clubs. Aren't you worried? For your hybrids I mean."

Christina shrugged and took a sip of her drink.

"Who knows. I haven't noticed anything suspicious around here, probably just a coincidence. Or you know what, maybe it's those activists. They've been breathing down our throats, trying to pass that law to make fight clubs illegal. Wouldn't surprise me if they went after hybrids associated with the fights just so they can point fingers and say the fight clubs killed them."

John and Christina talked a bit longer but she couldn't offer anymore information. The fight in the ring was just as bloody as the previous one and by the end, the deer hybrid had gotten stabbed with the horns of the antelope hybrid. Luckily, it hadn't hit any vital organs, but John could see the poor thing wouldn't be walking anytime soon.

The two milled about a little longer, and in the early hours of the morning, headed out. It seemed no one knew exactly who ran these fights, all just rumours and gossip. Most people had heard about the killings, but no one seemed particularly concerned.

Aside from Karl and Christina, John had managed to talk with Timmings, the referee, who also knew nothing. He told John that he had been coming to fight clubs for years, which was most likely the reason he was chosen to ref. When he had called for the location this time, the voice on the other end had simply asked if he'd be interested, and when he said yes they told him to come half an hour earlier than the others. When he arrived, a badge indicating he was the ref of the evening was waiting for him, and that was that.

Sherlock tried to talk to a few other hybrids, but with their owners around it was difficult to converse without being heard. He managed to find out that several of the owners who had hybrids that were killed mentioned selling their hybrids directly before their bodies were found. It could have been a lie, but it felt odd that they would all come up with the same lie, but to whom they might have sold their hybrids to, neither John nor Sherlock could figure out.

As the pair staggered out into the evening air, both of them breathed a soft sigh of relief. Undercover, day one, finished. They walked a few blocks away before hailing down a cab. John's phone alerted him to a message from Lestrade as they climbed into the back seat.

'Good work tonight. Go home, get some rest. Come to Scotland Yard tomorrow around noon, we'll discuss what we learned. - GL'

With a sigh, John leaned back into the seat, unclipping the microphone. That had been exhausting. Sherlock pulled off his ear cuff camera as well as his own microphone before lying down on the backseat, head in John's lap. His arms and legs were tired form all the crawling around, and he had smelled way too much heavy perfume and cologne for one night. He had gotten petted, stroked, felt up, cooed over and one of the humans had even kissed his cheek. It had been excruciating, forcing himself not to move or show any sign of disgust at their touches. Sherlock longed to just wash away all of that, just climb into bed with John's arms around him, the doctor's soft breath tickling his ears as they fall asleep.

"You OK, love?" John asked softly, stroking his hair.

Sherlock nodded but huddled closer, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist.

"Are you hungry? Fancy a snack before bed?"

He shook his head, "No, just want to shower and sleep."

John nodded even though Sherlock couldn't see, his body agreeing wholeheartedly with that idea.

"Sounds heavenly. Let's do that."

He continued to pet Sherlock, rubbing his ears gently and massaging his neck for the rest of the ride. Both owner and hybrid were eager for a good night's sleep to wash away the horrible things they had witnessed tonight.

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CHAPTER 20 END

Wow...that was fucking looooooong X_X And I'm too lazy to go back and proofread, so if you notice any mistakes please let me know so I can fix it!

It is bloody difficult keeping my story flowing without loopholes (and trying to remember the names of all these extra characters ;_; ), but I'm trying! I hope everything made sense this chapter, and people get some background info about hybrid fight clubs in this universe. If anything's unclear, please let me know :3