-:- John -:-
I lay there, dying on a forgotten battlefield in Afghanistan, and the only thing I could think was, 'Well, at least it's over'.
Only it wasn't.
A shadowy figure snuffled about inspecting the corpses littered across the desert sand. In the light of the full moon, I saw it going on all fours, and it had a long tail, but as it came closer, stepping into a bright patch of moonlight, I saw what it was, and my heart filled with dread.
It was a wolf. A werewolf.
He/she/it started to sniff me next inspecting my leg. I had taken a bullet to it, which had just barely grazed my femoral artery. It was a miracle I hadn't bled out yet, but it also might have been due to the fact that I had placed and tightened my belt just above the wound, improvising a tourniquet. I gripped my gun tightly, prepared to fight for my life, but as it's hot breath was in my face, I found I couldn't move.
The last thing I saw before it bit into my shoulder, saving my life, was a bright flash of yellow eyes.
-:-
I pulled an apple out of the small fridge in the cheap wolf-friendly apartment the Army had set up for me. It had been seven weeks since I had turned, six since the army had discharged me honorably, and three since my first full moon. I had tried to be quiet as I shifted in the werewolf proof bunker in the basement, but you can't help but make a few noises as your bones stretch and break, and your skin tears open.
A few of the other people in my complex, the human ones, gave me dirty looks as I stumbled, half dragging myself up the three flights of stairs to my flat. I got a few threats after they found out I was a Were, people taping hateful notes to my door, and lately that hasn't been enough. Someone has taken to slathering chicken blood over my door, by the smell of it. I cleaned it up, considering this was the possibly only place I could afford on an army pension.
But the second time it happened I made a plan to leave this shitty studio, and find better accomodations, somewhere else.
Everyone knows about the mythical creatures that roamed the streets of London nowadays. It wasn't anything new. Supernatural complexes had cropped up in the better parts of the City, specifically for the Weres, Vamps, and Witches. People tended to judge those of us that weren't fully human, calling us things like 'Cur', 'Bloodsucker', or accusing us of practicing Satanism. Nonsense really, coming from people who don't know what supernatural creatures really are. They're, well now it's we're, just people... Not better or worse than someone who is human.
Most don't mind us, but it seems to me that everyone who hates creatures tends to live in a "supernatural-friendly" apartment complex. They were simply ordinary complexes that had been given a slight renovation to make them fit for a Creature to live in.
My senses had been drastically amplified since I had been bitten, my temper was more dangerous now, and I could hear every word whispered by the couple next door. They constantly fought, mostly about money, but I knew to stuff cotton I my ears when they started whispering about, and I quote. "that freak in apartment 3F".
Just like they were doing now. Greeeaaat, more drama.
I put my apple back in the fridge, and decided to get out of the flat for once, and take a walk in Regent's Park. It was a beautiful day outside, and I saw no need to listen to the bullshit coming from my neighbors. The sunshine felt nice on my skin, and I could see hear and smell like I never had before. I stuffed my hands in my pockets, idly strolling down the path, content. I passed a group of teens having a picnic on the last week of summer break, and I pulled my shirt collar a little higher, making sure my scars were covered.
"John! John Watson!" I heard someone call behind me. As I turned, the wind gusted in my direction, and I smelled someone on the portly man walking towards me. The smell made my wolf howl with desire, deep in my chest. I ignored him, frowning at the sensation of longing. "Stamford, Mike Stamford, we were at Bart's together." The man in front of me said. I caught a whiff of him then, and he wasn't the one who was making my wolf lose his damn mind, but he was with them an hour or so before.
I remembered Mike then, a trifle younger. "Yes, Mike, hello." I said, shaking his hand
He chuckled amusedly, saying, "Yeah, I know, I got fat. But you, last i heard you were abroad somewhere, getting shot at. What happened?"
I sighed, resigning myself to his judgement. "I got shot... And worse."
-:-
"We'll, what's the 'and worse'?" Mike asked, as we sat in Regent's Park, after getting coffee from the Criterion.
I flinched, shutting my eyes tightly against the flash of yellow. I willed my hands not to shake as I set my coffee down. "I'd rather not talk about it. You would run."
"Oh. I see. You got bit." He said softly, "Do you at least have a decent place to live?"
I looked at him, stunned. I remembered Mike being a decent enough bloke in uni, but this? Actually still sitting here with me, knowing I'm a Were? This was something else. I blinked, shock clear on my face.
"Ah, don't give me that look. You're still the same guy... Just a little hungrier." He grinned, and added, "I take it then your flat is shit? The one the Army set up?"
"Yeah... But I can't afford a decent place... Not a Creatures only building, not on an Army pension." I frowned at him as he grinned. What...
"I know someone who can help you with that. I was just talking to him an hour ago." Mike stood up, saying, "He's a wolf who's also looking for lodgings. Name's Sherlock Holmes, and he's probably still at Bart's right now if you want to meet him..."