(2) Caught In The Storm
Sherlock sat back on the sofa in the flat while John was slumped forward in his armchair, face in both hands. Sherrinford's voice was still ranting & raging as Sherlock held the mobile away from him so both could hear.
"... AND ANOTHER THING!" Sherrinford went on. "How are we going to deal with the wolves next week? Alexander's not ready to participate in their care yet! I'm still training him how to speak properly! It's just you & I, William! We have ten wolves now, plus John's puppies & there is a storm warning in the Cheviots for that weekend! Do I need to remind you where our castle is?"
"Enola can—"
"Enola has to stay at Mycroft's estate in case the storm blows down there & she has to secure his horses! Besides, we might have to bring the wolves indoors & they would eat her alive! I don't even want them in the castle this time since I just had the place prepped for the event! Or do I need to remind you of that as well?!"
"Lock them in the barn," Sherlock tried to get a word in edgewise. (His brother had been ranting for almost an hour.)
"The barn? THE BARN!" Sherrinford spluttered. "What about our own horses? They'll need the shelter, too! I'm not even going to mention your godforsaken bees, right now!"
"I will take care of the bees before the full moon rises," Sherlock said.
"Good," Sherrinford snapped. "That means you'll be at the castle soon & I'll know where you are. I'll take care of YOU! You're a bagful of ash just waiting to happen William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" At long, long last, he finally closed the call. Sherlock hissed loudly at his own mobile even though he knew Sherrinford could no longer hear before putting it away.
John slowly raised his face from his hands. "I think you've gone & done it now."
"He sounds a tad stressed," was all Sherlock said. John went back to face-palming.
Sherlock & John arrived early the day before the full moon. It was already pouring rain & a cool wind swept in from the sea. The entire borderland was shrouded in a mist so thick that vampires didn't need to create their own to hide. Though both wore thick raincoats, they were soon soaked & both took turns standing in the entrance way of the castle, shaking off the water much to Sherrinford's displeasure.
The hives were covered with large panels standing on the ground & leaning back to the wall of the barn to make a sort of A-frame, fastened in place by a few large nails. It was open at both ends for the bees to come & go but the hives, at least, stayed more or less dry. After checking the large coop where the peacocks went to roost to make sure they were home, John locked their door & then waited by the barn for the horses. By the time Sherrinford & Sherlock got the horses in, the rain was so thick that no one could see two inches in front of their faces. It got dark earlier than usual as the Atlantic storm swept in.
The horses were arranged two to a stall to make room for the wolves. It put them on edge even more, being cramped together in a storm. Sherlock nearly lost his silver stallion when Bach refused to enter the barn at all & tried to pull away at the first loud thunderclap. Sherlock got dragged several feet until the horse gave up & went in, complaining every step of the way. Werewolves didn't bother them since the only things a werewolf would eat on a full moon were honeycomb or humans, but being stuffed together two to a stall was unpleasant.
The wolves would change at moonrise whether they saw the moon or not. The force of the curse was still felt. Once transformed, Sherrinford & Sherlock rounded them up & brought them into the barn. Despite the power of both vampires, it was still a struggle against the high winds to push the barn doors closed. Sherlock felt his legs wipe out as something knocked him almost down to the ground. Sherrinford's left wing was right in his way. Sherrinford had half opened his wings & dug his points into the ground to push against & was now held fast by the wind blowing over him. Once the doors were locked, he leaned against them in an attempt to gain some momentary shelter from the wind until he pulled his wings in.
At last, the two surviving brothers turned to the castle, only to see it wink out of existence as the lights shut down. "Great, the power's out," Sherrinford muttered.
"Good thing we got the wolves in," Sherlock glanced at the window on one side of the great barn doors where a gold wolf was suddenly scratching for attention. "If they got by that electric fence while it's out, they could do a lot of damage. Easy, John!" The gold wolf was pawing even more frantically & barking; though, he could barely be heard above the gale.
"Is he scared of storms?"
Sherlock watched John through the window as he ran down the length of the barn. "No."
"Well, I for one, want to get out of this torrent," Sherrinford said. "I'm soaked through. I'm no werewolf & have had enough of water. Let's both dry off & then we can take turns being with the wolves."
"John!" Sherlock stepped back as the gold wolf had thrown himself into the thick pane.
"What's the matter with him?"
"I don't know," Sherlock went around to the side where the small tack door was. "I'm going to go calm him down. Think you can handle the pups for a few minutes?"
Sherrinford glared at him. "Hurry up! I'm still not finished with you. We need to have a talk, later."
As if not hearing, Sherlock closed the door & turned around, knocking a saddle off its perch. He put it back & went through the small room to the other door that led into the main barn. It was almost dark without the main power to the lights but the back up generator kept the dim emergency lights on in the corners. It was still hard to see much with normal vision, so he switched to a red gaze which allowed him to see the light in sepia tones tinged with red so long as the back up lights stayed on or else it would be total darkness. A pale shape came up to him, whimpering. "Come on, John. Since when are you scared of storms?" John barked at him & stood up to put his front legs around Sherlock, as if holding on for dear life. It was all Sherlock could do to make the gold wolf stand down so he could move.
The other wolves had the run of the place, weaving in & out of the open stalls on the left side, kept empty for them to bed down in when they wore out. Jacob was already upside down on a hay pile in one stall, tongue hanging & legs splayed out, having no shame whatsoever. Sherlock shook his head & moved on. Bach reared up on the right, smashing his front hooves on the gate.
"That's quite enough from you," Sherlock put his hands on the silver head. "You're just going to have to deal with Firestorm for one night." He reached out to touch the nose of Sherrinford's large red Destrier, even bigger than Bach, who was a Courser horse. "Seriously. It is one night!" He returned to petting Bach. The silver stallion responded by biting his arm. Sherlock hurried backwards out of reach. "Right. No carrots for a week!" Bach whinnied angrily at him, ears flat. "Make it two weeks."
John had run from one end of the barn & back again twice in the meantime. Sherlock caught him on his way by. "Why don't you go lie down with Jacob, hmm?" He rubbed the gold ears. John bucked his head out of Sherlock's grip & continued to whine as he trotted around, sniffing first one stall & then another as if looking for something. Sherlock waited for him to turn around & tried to offer honeycomb as John passed. He didn't even sniff at it! Sherlock tossed the honeycomb to Vivianna instead. He glanced over the wolves one more time. The Grant pack were all dark wolves, mostly the usual browns to a deep black. Watson pack was pale. He suddenly understood why John was frantic.
Not looking for something. Someone.
"John?" Sherlock dropped to his knees in front of the gold wolf & grabbed his head again. "I'll find her." He ran to the tack room. John followed. "No no no, you stay!" Sherlock pushed him back. "The power is out. I can't risk having another wolf pass the fence. I'll find her, John. STAY!" He slammed the inner door on John's nose & locked it, then made his way through the tack to the door leading outside. Sherlock ignored John's return to his frenetic pawing at the barn windows & ran to the castle to find Sherrinford sitting in the grand parlour with Derek in his arms & Jessica in the playpen.
"It's about time," Sherrinford complained.
"Is Mary here?" Sherlock interrupted what he was sure would have been another very long lecture. He went to the hall & whistled. "Mary?"
"She should be in the barn. I put her in, myself."
"Are you sure you didn't bring her here?" Sherlock demanded again before checking another room, calling for the white wolf.
"No. Sherlock?"
"Mary's not in the barn!"
"What?" Sherrinford put Derek down by his sister.
"I thought it was your wing that tripped me," Sherlock said. "But it must have been her. You know how skittish she is. That's why John is going crazy."
"Sherlock, the fence!"
"I know," Sherlock grabbed a few bags of honeycomb to line the pockets of his coat. "I'll have to go out & find her. You're on pup duty & pack duty."
"Sher—WAIT! SHERLOCK!" Sherrinford called but Sherlock was already outside & soon disappeared into the torrent. He glanced at Derek & Jessica, both in the pen. They had nine other wolves across two packs, twin pups & a missing wolf. Fence was down. Suddenly not enough manpower to deal with them all in a storm. Sherrinford grabbed the twins. "Come on, you guys. You're going to sleep in the tack room while I sit with the packs."
Sherlock stood in front of the barn. John stood up when he saw him & went back to scratching wildly at the window. "I know, John! Let me think." Where would a scared wolf run off to in a thunderstorm? Scanning around, he saw the thickest part of the trees was down the driveway towards the road. He headed in that direction.
The driveway wound down through the trees towards the main highway. Under the branches, the rain was not as hard. Sherlock looked down to find a few large faded paw prints. Judging by the spread, it looked like she was still running. They were headed straight for the fence & the road beyond. Sherlock put down a few honeycombs & moved forwards. He got to the gate & looking through it, he saw more paw prints just as they left the trees. He dropped a few more honeycombs, then opened the gate & stepped off the property.
The entrance was obscured by trees, but the coverage ended abruptly at the public road, which of course meant no more paw prints to track. The last few he could find before stepping out of the trees seemed to be crossing the road into the next bushy area.
Sherlock entered the trees on the other side, returned to the road & entered in a different area several times. It was much harder seeing in the dark without a light of any sort. He kept weaving in out of the trees until he found more prints under a tree. Now, she seemed to be walking, even pausing under trees, looking for shelter. She also seemed to be heading in the direction of civilization.
"Not good!" Sherlock hurried after her, hoping she was scared enough to hide from everything. He left a trail of honeycombs wherever he found paw prints, hoping she would cross her own trail & start eating them.
He soon found himself in an open pasture & beyond that was farmland & humanity. Ordinarily, it would be about three hours away from the castle but with her energized fear & his natural speed, both had ended up here in barely an hour.
At least it was still quite stormy. Few if any people would be out in the middle of the night with the wild storm going on. Neither he or Mary had any business being out in this mess either. If only she wasn't so bloody feral.
Sherlock moved towards the first possible shelter a scared wolf might go to. There was an enclosure off to one side which held a chicken coop. The birds were out of sight in their nests, but Mary wasn't there. He rounded the corner of the coop & saw a flash of white running through the grass towards the house. "There you are. MARY!" He sped after her, hoping to get to the door before she did.
Mary skidded so hard in the mud to avoid him, she ended up sitting on her tail. She flipped around quick like a bunny-rabbit & headed back into the tall, soaking grass, pausing a moment to look back at him. Sherlock moved forward. She flinched & bounded off.
"Mary, come back," Sherlock ran after her again, pressing sideways through the wet grass to cut her off. Mary stopped short just out of his reach again, shaking & whimpering. "Alright, just stay put." Sherlock slowly moved his hand into a pocket to pull out the last bag of honeycombs. Mary looked behind her. "No, no, don't! Mary. Look. Come here." He tossed one over. She sniffed at it before scarfing it down, wax & all. Sherlock lunged for her & ended up face first in the mud. He stood up & the rain washed him off almost instantly, but it was enough to lose track of her, again. "Why are you so bloody anxious?" He moaned, rubbing his face with one hand. He looked around to find the bag on the ground.
His next encounter with her was by the chicken coop. Another dive. Another dodge & Sherlock ended up with chicken wire marks on his face as he smashed himself right into it in another futile strike against Mary. If only Sherrinford could be here to help him. They could have trapped her between them.
Now, it looked more like a whole long night of playing 'Diving For Doggies'. Sherlock lifted his head from the stream he had gone in from trying to jump on her again. "Mary, come on. Don't you want to go see John?" Sherlock wondered darkly if he should have perhaps brought John along, but of course that would have been even more dangerous. One loose werewolf was enough.
Sherlock sat on the bank of the stream. Jumping for her wasn't working & she no longer accepted honeycombs from him, knowing it was a trick to get his hands on her. Another peal of thunder sounded & then the forest lit up with a bolt. He saw her standing there watching him, but the thunder made her flee into the trees. Sherlock took off after her. He heard her yell as if in pain.
"Mary?" Sherlock slowed to a walk. Hearing her cries, he moved right & there she was, stuck between two large rocks. She had fallen in between & was now wedged there, paws off the ground. Sherlock sat down in front of her. "I'm just going to leave you there for a few minutes. Give you time to think about what a bad wolf you're being, hmm? You & Bach, tonight!" She tried to stretch out & lick his face but Sherlock pulled back. "No, no, no. Save your kisses for John, if you don't mind." He watched her a bit as she struggled to get out, moving one paw, then the other. She looked like she was swimming. "I don't care, Mary," Sherlock held up his mobile. "Wait until I show this to John. You both can have a laugh at it, later." She looked helpless, scared, comical & above all, downright guilty of her escape, hanging there by her belly.
He put the mobile away & went to her head. As he rubbed her ears, he said, "I finally understand the phrase dumb blonde." Mary just looked at him pathetically. "You have any idea how dangerous this is? We are way beyond the boundaries of the Holmes land." Sherlock stood up. Mary whined. He fed her some honeycomb. "Let's go home." He lifted her out of her predicament & began carrying her over one shoulder.
But the going was slow, the ground slippery with mud. What took an hour at high speeds to get out would take longer to get back. Werewolves on the full moon were a little larger than Malamutes. Her coat of fur weighed her down almost double with the water. The storm was slowly dissipating by the time Sherlock made it across hills & fields, eventually cutting through some forest before coming close to the highway, carrying a rather contented Mary in his arms. Her fore paws were wrapped around his neck, tail curled up with her hind paws which were daintily folded over each other & pressed up into his arms & chest. She looked rather pleased with herself. The rain still poured but it wasn't as bad as it used to be. Sherlock suddenly slipped & landed on his side. Mary tumbled out of his arms & sat on the edge of the road, looking back at him, waiting. Sherlock pulled out the bag. One last honeycomb remained.
"Last one," Sherlock held it out to her & she took it from his hand again as if all was well. "I hope you behave. Come here." Miraculously, she obeyed. "Alright, let's get across. You'll find plenty of honeycomb on the ground over there. Hmm? You want that?" Mary ruffed under breath & shoved her wriggling black little nose in his face. "Alright. Great. Not so scared, anymore. Come on, Mary." He crossed the highway. "MARY! Get over here! NOW!"
The wolf was still on the other side, sniffing at God knows what. She grumbled but began trotting across. Sherlock turned back to the private driveway & was in the process of rolling his eyes when suddenly, his delicate hearing picked up an unnatural sound in the rain. He whirled around. "MARY! GO BACK!" But there was a horrendous crash & Mary screamed. "NOOOOO!" Sherlock fell to his knees by the side of the road as he tipped his face to the rain clouds in a wail of anguish to avoid the sight.
Mary had just been run down by a semi-truck.
The country highway wasn't used for much but working truck drivers. A large vehicle like that wouldn't even notice hitting a wolf, especially not in low visibility at night. The rain was still heavy, though there was no more wind or thunder. Sherlock slowly pushed himself up & looked down at the pavement, preparing himself for the scene. The blood on the road was already being rinsed away. He saw a pile of colourless hairs sink into one of the many puddles along the edge.
Mary was lying in the ditch, her pure white fur streaked with red. She was still alive but barely & when Sherlock laid eyes on her, he knew she was finished. She was mewling in pain, panting hard. Some of her ribs were sticking right through her heart. Her injuries were too severe to heal fast enough & nothing could kill anything that was alive faster than a pierced heart. That above all other injuries she had was now her death sentence. Sherlock dropped down into the ditch beside her.
He lay next to her, passing his hand over her brightly stained pelt for the last time. "I am so sorry, Mary. John should be with you in your final moments, not me!" He petted her soft ears as her cries ceased. The heaving sides slowed down. "I'm here," Sherlock leaned over her to whisper in her ear. "It's ok. You're not alone. I'm right here." Under his hand, he felt her last breath. Then he felt flesh instead of fur. The curse was lifted at her death. Sherlock looked over the beautiful maid John had found, lying naked in the water, her long platinum white hair soaking red in her blood. Everyone loved Mary. This would tear them apart, especially barely a year after the loss of Mycroft. Sherlock took off his long coat & covered her. He sat up beside her & curved his wings over them, making a tent to hide under & keep the rain off.
By the next morning, it was a clear day. But the devastation of the storm was felt throughout the area. Several large trees had been overturned in the high winds which explained why there was no power. One of Sherlock's hives that had been closer to the outside had collapsed but the damage was minimal.
Sherrinford had taken care of all the wolves who were changed back by now & sleeping in rooms, but he didn't bother with anything else. Sherlock & Mary had never returned that night & he was getting worried.
He checked on the pups who were sleeping like their father was, then hurried through the castle, looking for Sherlock. He came back to the pups but they were still sleeping, so he tried the barn again. But his brother wasn't there either. Bach tried snapping at him, wanting out.
"Damn you to hell, you monster!" Sherrinford leapt away. "I don't understand how Sherlock can ride such a wild beast!" All the while, he kept trying to call Sherlock on his mobile but there was no answer.
It was time to call for help. He sent a helicopter for Enola. Then called Lestrade to check around for any unusual wolf activity. Lestrade began driving around looking for Sherlock or Mary as well. The only good news was no news of any wolf attacks; although, there was one odd complaint about a dented chicken coop.
The horses were finally put out to pasture. Enola opened the nesting boxes. Neither went near the bees. After checking the pack once more to find all still sleeping, Enola & Sherrinford went in opposite directions looking for Sherlock & Mary.
"Anything yet?" asked Lestrade on the mobile while stopped at a light.
"No," said Sherrinford. "We've covered the grounds here. I hate the very idea, but I think they got out beyond the fence. I'm riding down the driveway right now."
"Where exactly are you?"
"In the Cheviots," said Sherrinford, giving the address.
"I'm quite close there," said Lestrade. "I'll drive up."
"Our driveway is well-hidden," Sherrinford explained. "Look for the electric fence & then try to find the gate. The driveway is very long as well. Takes twenty minutes from the road to the castle."
"You're that secluded?"
"We have to be," Sherrinford pulled up the reins to stop Firestorm from eating. "We have two werewolf packs running around once a month."
"Two?"
"Grant & Watson. That's what the electric fence is for," said Sherrinford. "It's usually fine but the storm up here wiped us out."
The light changed. "Alright. I'll see you soon." Lestrade moved onto the road again. He was currently on the highway heading for the Holmes castle.
After about ten minutes, Lestrade passed something that made him think of a pile of snow. He kept on going for a moment. The brakes screeched to a stop & then he reversed. He parked on the side & got out, looking at the strange formation. On closer inspection, it looked like vampire wings. He could see thin lines of red slowly dripping down. Blood from the wing wounds. Only Sherlock had that icy color. He hurried over.
"Sherlock? Is that you?"
Sherlock's head popped up like a swan looking up from its nest. He looked at Lestrade, then ducked under his wings again. Next moment, Lestrade had to move back as the wings swirled open & Sherlock stood up. "I could not leave her."
Lestrade looked down into the ditch. "What the—MARY?" He knelt down beside her. "Sherlock, what happened?"
"She got out," Sherlock said. "The storm spooked her. You know she was feral. I found her. Brought her home. It would have been fine but when we crossed the highway, she just wasn't fast enough. A semi hit her."
"A semi?" Lestrade stood up. "That's manslaughter. Not to mention a hit & run."
"No, it isn't," Sherlock shook his head. "Not this time."
"Sherlock!"
"This happened at night," Sherlock said. "She was in her wolf form. She's my white wolf. The driver would not even know he hit her & even if he did, all he would have seen was a white wolf. There is nothing we can do & I have not the words to explain this to John." Sherlock hung his head, his eyes downcast on Mary, still lying where she had fallen.
"Let's start by telling your brother," Lestrade said. He noticed a large gate behind & a bit to the left of Sherlock. "I take it that's your driveway? Sherrinford's coming down, right now." Sherlock nodded silently. Lestrade took out his mobile & called Sherrinford.
Sherlock remained silent until the pounding hooves of the large warhorse could be heard. Sherrinford dropped down from the saddle at the gate & came out. "What the hell happened?" He looked down at Mary. "John should be up by now. How are we going to tell him?"
"I'll speak to him," Sherlock spread his wings. "I have to. It is my fault."
"No Sherlock, it's mine," Sherrinford said. "I should have locked her in a stall until we closed the barn. I didn't even think of her spooking."
"I'll be sure to tell him," Sherlock took the sky without another word.
"Why you!" Sherrinford snarled through gritted fangs. He turned back to Mary's body. "We have to get her to the castle."
"I can put her in the cruiser," Lestrade offered. "Take care of your horse."
Sherlock glanced down to watch the police car wind its way up the long driveway. He waited until it got closer to the castle before dropping down so they would arrive with Mary's body a few minutes after he would find John. The moment Sherlock came into the entrance way of the main castle doors, Enola jumped on him. "William, where have you been?" She demanded as she held on to him as best possible with his wings still out.
Sherlock pushed her away. "Where's John?"
Enola looked her brother over. He didn't even correct her on the name. "What's wrong?" Sherlock just stared at her. Enola put both hands to her face. "Did Mary attack someone?"
Sherlock shook his head. "She's dead."
"What?"
"Run over by a semi on the way home," Sherlock went on. "Lestrade is bringing her body in." Why was it so easy to tell Enola but he would rather be put into a coffin again before facing John? "Wait for them, please? I need to find John."
"I think he's still up in his room."
Sherlock set out for the stairs. He marched through the castle halls, his great wings flowing behind him, tips sweeping the floor. As Vivianna, Jacob & others saw him coming, they moved well out of his way. Sherlock seemed to be in pain other than his physical ache. Even the most clueless person could deduce what was wrong. Something happened to Mary & John would be the last to find out.
Once he reached the door to John's room, Sherlock stood there for almost a minute. It was simple. Go in. Tell John what happened. He tried to reason with himself. But no, it was not simple. He forced himself to open the door part way. "John."
"That you, Sherlock? I'm just getting up."
Sherlock went in all the way. "Please, stay down."
"Ohh kay," John sat back on the edge of the bed. He watched Sherlock come in & stand by the window to look at the grounds for a moment. His wings were still out, slightly tense & hovering off the floor while bent back behind him. "Something wrong?"
"There was a very bad storm last night."
"I remember some of it," said John. "I think Sherrinford ended up staying in the barn all night."
Sherlock sighed, looking down to the floor. In human form, werewolves always had jumbled up memories of their lunar nights. In wolf form, they remember nothing of their humanity & would kill their own kind who did not have the curse. "There was a lot of damage. We lost power."
"Oh, so the electric fence stopped working," said John. "Wait. Did one of us kill someone?"
"No," Sherlock turned to John at last. "John. I do not have such words. I know not how."
Something was definitely wrong. "Just say it. I find starting from the beginning helps."
"Shane put all the wolves into the barn."
"Alright," John waited a moment. "Then what happened?"
"We had trouble closing the door in the wind," Sherlock continued. "A wolf got out." He moved closer to John. "I went after it. We had a bit of a fight that involved a chicken coop & regrettably, the coop won." He waited as John laughed at that. "I was able to retrieve the wolf."
"That's good," said John. "But what aren't you saying?"
"I thought we were safe. It was over. We were nearly home. But John?" Sherlock hesitated. He had avoided using certain pronouns until now. "She was not fast enough to cross the highway."
"She?"
"A semi ran her over."
"Sherlock," John glanced to his door. "Where's my wife?"
"In the back of Lestrade's cruiser," Sherlock replied. "He is bringing her home. Mary ... is dead." There, it was done.
"SHERLOCK!" John launched himself onto Sherlock. "NOOO!"
"I guess he finished telling her," Lestrade said. The whole castle heard John's cry.
Sherlock wrapped both arms & wings around John, holding the shaking man tightly to him. They slowly sank to the floor. "I am sorry, John. There is nothing we can do for her."
John could be heard for several minutes. Vivianna & Enola were holding on to each other, crying as well, while others of the Grant pack closed in on the two pups, sleeping & unaware they no longer had a mother. Lestrade stood close to Sherrinford who looked completely broken.
About half an hour later, John stumbled in to the parlour. He looked around & saw Lestrade. "Where is she, Greg?"
"In one of the side rooms," Lestrade pointed. "John ..." John just shook his head & went in to see her, still covered only by Sherlock's long black coat.
Sherlock joined the others a few moments later in the main parlour. By now everyone was together in the same room except John, who was still with Mary. John finally emerged from the death chamber. He looked at each one in turn but was done with words.
"It's my fault, John," Sherlock said. "I should have carried her across that highway." John stared at him.
"Actually, it is indeed my fault," Sherrinford said. "She was the first wolf I put into the barn. I should have trapped her in a stall. I did not. She was spooked by the thunder & slipped out while we put the other wolves in."
John glared at him. It made more sense to blame Sherrinford than Sherlock. "Tell me one thing."
"Anything."
"Did you do it on purpose?"
"What?" Sherrinford yelped.
"Did you let my wife out on purpose?" John asked again. "I know you & Mycroft don't exactly approve of me. You both have threatened me with death."
"John, that was ages ago," Sherrinford began. "Sherlock always defended you no matter what. In the end, even Mycroft came around to accepting you & as for me, you killed Micah de LaCie. Avenged Mycroft by doing that & you cured my sister. I am forever in your debt for that. Regardless of that, Mary would be an innocent. Had I been that spiteful, it would have been you I would let out, not her. But I am very long removed from that mistrust. No, John. I did not let her out on purpose."
John glanced at Sherlock he nodded in approval. "I just had to ask."
"I know," Sherrinford said. "Worse, I know I totally deserved that."
"Yes, you did," John moved to drop into the nearest armchair & buried his face in his hands.
Sherrinford went to him & knelt down at his feet, spreading his Phoenix wings forward around the chair. "John, I have nothing I could say to you for what happened. Nothing I could do to change it. I don't even know what to feel. Three thousand years & Holmes have never once lost a single wolf. Until now. With all our modern technology, we lost a wolf in this age. Saying sorry to you won't even cut it but, I am sorry." He laid his face in John's lap & burst into tears.