-:- John -:-
"So, Sherlock, erm. I ... I have a question." I nervously fidgeted in the cab, as we headed off to the crime scene, half an hour after 'the incident'. I was slightly hesitant to ask, but I was extremely confused about her, his wolf. How on Earth could Sherlock have a female wolf? Was he, in fact, a woman?
"It's about my wolf, isn't it? Why She is indeed a she?" He leaned into my side, appearing completely at ease. Lacing our fingers together idly, he began to explain. "I was high on a specific cocktail of drugs the night I was turned, it was one of those designer drugs, called Unium. The drug mutated the virus, giving my wolf the opposite gender... It's actually quite simple. I met another wrong gendered Were once. He had also been high on the same drug. But it was just a coincidence that we both happened to be gay."
Oh. I guess that actually made sense, I think. No one knows exactly how the virus works, and what different drugs can do to it... Anything could happen under the circumstances. I wrapped my free arm around him , and kissed his temple. "I'm glad I found you in time." I murmured into his hair as he leaned into me further.
"Mhm. Me too. I don't feel like I have one foot in the grave anymore, because of you."
-:- Sherlock -:-
John paid the cabbie, as we arrived at the crime scene. I grabbed his hand, as we approached Sgt Donovan, who was standing at the police line. Feeling my wolf becoming agitated by her presence, I shut my eyes briefly and focused on John's smell. I opened my eyes to find her looking at me skeptically. "Hello, Sally." God, she was such a speciesist.
"Hello, freak. Who's your... Who's this?" She asked, insultingly. I knew that she thought I was incapable of having friends.
I felt John tense up beside me in anger, understanding her insinuation. I could tell that he was about thirty seconds from wolfing out, so I murmured to him, "She's not worth it, John.." I let go of his hand to place my arm around his waist holding him close. He glared at Sally, as I explained, "John is my mate, Sgt Donovan. We found each other two days ago." Knowing that it made her extremely uncomfortable, I gave her my brightest and also most sinister smile, asking. "If you can show us the crime scene, that would be lovely..."
She scowled, lifting her radio, and announcing our arrival as I lifted the tape for John. "Freak and co. are here. Bringing them in." She said it in a tone that spoke volumes of her disdain for nonhumans. I sniffed, as I walked behind her, and her scent seemed different. I smirked to myself, realizing what it was. She had been spending a late night with Anderson, I could still detect a lingering trace of sex on her. I wondered why she chose him of all people. But it was oddly fitting, my two least favorite people having an affair.
As we approached the door to the house in question, we were greeted by Anderson's rather unfortunate face. "Now listen here Sherlock, this is My crime scene, and I don't want it contaminated. Are we clear?" He glared at me intently. I knew then that both Sally and he had come to their own conclusions on this case, and resented the fact that I was here to prove them wrong yet again. I was very glad that Greg no longer solely listened to them, and thought for himself every once in a while.
"Oh, but of course, Phillip. I wouldn't dream of contaminating your precious crime scene." I said mockingly, and batted my eyelashes, my face sweet and innocent. I knew he loathed the way I was able to deduce what had happened to the victims without the use of fancy machinery, most of the time. Occasionally I needed to use Bart's lab for chemical analyses, but those cases were few and far between. My heightened sense of smell was in itself a useful tool, and Anderson was jealous.
I led John into the house, and to the room where Greg was waiting for us. The DI raised his eyebrows, clearly asking why I had chosen to bring along my mate on a case, to which I merely shrugged. I pulled on a pair of latex gloves, as John put on one of those absolutely ridiculous blue sterile suits, at my brother-in-law's request. We followed Greg up to the first floor, and he explained the case as we went up the stairs.
"Some kids found her this morning, lying in a pool of blood, obviously dead." I frowned upon hearing the words 'pool of blood', the description not fitting in with the Met's conclusion of a vampire attack. An uncontrollable vampire would drain their victim completely... If they were interrupted, for a human it would be a Turning, not death... I knew then that it most likely wasn't a vampire.
"She's in here," Greg said, as I almost gagged on the scent of old blood and death. It permeated the air, stifling me. John actually did gag and I told him to breathe through his mouth. The taste, however, was almost as bad as the smell. I shuddered, desperately trying to ignore it, as I inspected the corpse.
She was in her late thirties, judging by her face, unhappily married for ten years - her dirty wedding bands lay outside the pool of blood, and I picked one up, taking a closer look. Ah, long term affair. Multiple. I examined her neck next, and the so called 'bite'. It was simply two holes pierced in her carotid artery, two perfect holes. Yes, this was no vampire at all.
"John, come here. I would like to have your opinion." I looked up at him from my hunched position on the floor. Greg gave him the go-ahead to help, and he stepped around the blood to where I was. "The so-called 'bite'', doesn't it seem a bit too perfect to you? No tearing, no marks of the other teeth..." I hoped he agreed with me.
"You're definitely on to something there, Sherlock. As far as I know, a vampire bite is shaped like a human one, except that the canines are more pronounced. This is just like someone punctured her carotid with a screwdriver." He frowned, sniffing. "There's something else, too. Something in her blood a chemical of some sort." John's frown deepened, as he realized the implications of this. Someone was framing a Creature for their ordinary homicide. I was highly disturbed, because if Greg hadn't had the common sense to call me in, they would have gotten away with it.
We shared a glance, as we stood, and I walked towards Greg, and the door.
"It wasn't a Vamp. My assumption is her husband, or whomever she was cheating on him with." I sniffed, trying to see if I could identify the drug used to sedate/kill her. "Drugged her with.. cocaine, and dragged her here. Punctured her neck with a circular object, I assume a screwdriver, but it may have been something else."
"Fuck." My brother-in-law really did love to curse. So did I, but he was supposed to be more professional than me, him being my boss and all. "I know exactly who is responsible for this. The husband claimed to be in town on business, but his company denied it. We cleared him because he is human... I've got it from here, Sherlock. Thanks."
"John," I asked, as we made our way back downstairs, "do you want to go get a late lunch?" I hoped he would say yes, because I knew of a great Italian restaurant over by our flat that had excellent food. I knew the owner of the place, and helped him off a murder charge. He gave me preferential treatment, and was a good friend.
"Sure, you go get us a cab, while I get out of this suit." John said, with a soft smile. He walked into the first room, and I left the building, passing Sally on my way out.
-:- John -:-
I unzipped the blue suit, and pulled my arms out of the damn contraption; it had been a struggle to get on too. I heard heels clicking on the floor, and looked up just in time to see Sgt Donovan standing in the door. I personally loathed the woman, after only knowing her for a few minutes. She was most definitely a speciesist. "What?" I irritatedly asked, finally managing to get the suit off, and put on my jacket.
"You're mated to that psychopath?" She said, obviously scornful. "Do you even know what he is?" I didn't get the woman. If she hated Sherlock, then why the hell did she care?
"I am also a Were, Donovan." I replied, showing her the angry flash of yellow in my eyes. I don't care if she was afraid of me after that, I most definitely wasn't going to let her hurt Sherlock. "And he's not a psychopath, he's unique. Any more snarky comments, any word at all to Sherlock, and I'll be reporting you for harassment. Go to hell, Sally." I pushed past her, going to Sherlock.
I found him just outside the police tape, leaning against our cab, a beautiful smile on his face. God he was so perfect. I hurried towards him, and took him into my arms. "Sally's a bitch." I muttered into his shoulder. I felt his chuckle as it shook his body. He wrapped his arms around me and I felt a warmth bloom in my chest, as he kissed the top of my head, and rested his cheek on it.
"I know she is, love." Love. It sounded so natural for him to call me that. I turned my face upwards, grinning broadly. He called me love. I felt like I was filled with molten wax, warm and slightly squishy. "What?" He asked, cocking his head to the side.
"You love me." I knew I was grinning like a fool, but I couldn't help it. Sherlock loved me. He smiled, and gently pressed his lips to mine. Pulling back, he smiled again, his eyes soft and warm, just like my insides.
"Of course I do, you're my mate." He murmured, brushing his lips against my forehead. I closed my eyes, leaning into his embrace. It was so new, being in love as a Were. So much quicker, and so much more intense.
"I love you too."