Panthera Pardus

Chapter 3: Revelations

Sherlock had been quite surprised at the end of a month that John Watson was still living under the same roof as him. It had been several weeks now since John had moved into 221b and the relationship between the detective and the doctor was progressing marvelously. Sherlock could feel the bond strengthening everyday just from being in each other's presence. Of course, he still felt the need to complete the bond. In fact the need grew stronger everyday, but Sherlock was still hesitant, unsure if John would be receptive to a different kind of relationship than they currently had. It was something that would have to be broached soon, because Sherlock wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out.

During the course of the past few weeks, Sherlock had learned much about John, like that in the morning he preferred coffee to tea, or the fact that John was quite fond of Sunday afternoon naps on the sofa. Sherlock had also learned that John had nightmares about Afghanistan still. Every time Sherlock heard John whimpering or screaming in his sleep, he wanted to comfort the man and sooth him, but flatmates didn't do that. Bond mates do, his internal thoughts would insist, but then he'd have to hush his thoughts and try to focus on being a good flatmate. He wanted to take things slowly. John was different than anybody he'd ever met. He was smart (well… not nearly as intelligent as Sherlock, but for a normal person, quite smart), patient, loyal, courageous, and a wonderful companion during the dull boring periods between cases. Sherlock didn't want to do anything to jeopardize his and John's potential relationship.

It was on a Thursday when John went to Tesco to pick up some things. Sherlock had used all of the milk for an experiment. It was on this particular Thursday that, unbeknownst to Sherlock, everything would change. All of his careful planning would be shattered. He'd been alone for quite some time now and had taken to examining mold cultures that had been maturing for a few days under different conditions when he heard the door open down stairs. He listened carefully and smiled when he determined that John was home. However the smile shrunk when Sherlock realized by John's footsteps that something was wrong. He was walking slowly and mechanically as though in a daze, and judging from the weight of the steps, he hadn't purchased anything at Tesco.

Sherlock glanced up when John opened the door, his deductions confirmed when he saw the look on John's face. His brows were furrowed, but not in anger, well… a little anger, but mostly confusion. His mouth was set a little to one side as though he'd been chewing on the inside of his cheek, and his hands were clenched inside his jacket pockets. John turned to shut the door and that was when Sherlock smelled it. A growl rose in his throat and before he knew it, he was pressing John up against the door from behind, one hand pressing against the back of John's neck, the other gripping John's hand that had attempted to push Sherlock away. "Sherlock! What are you doing?" John growled from against the door.

"Mycroft… I can smell him on you. What did he do to you, John?"

"Nothing's been done to me! And who is Mycroft?"

"I can smell him, John!"

"I don't know who Mycroft is!" John attempted to shove Sherlock backwards, but the taller man's grip only tightened. "Let me go, Sherlock!"

Sherlock leaned in against John, his nose against the back of John's neck, taking in the scent of his older brother. Mycroft hadn't touched John… only the jacket. With a sigh of relief, Sherlock loosened his hold on John and took a step back. John whipped around, his face clouded with anger. "What is your problem?!" he growled.

"Take off your jacket."

"What?"

"Take off your jacket, and then you can ask me whatever you like."

John gave Sherlock a hard stare and looked about ready to just plop down in his chair with the jacket still on just for spite. However curiosity won, and John instead slipped his jacket off, all the while not breaking eye contact with Sherlock. He hung it on its designated peg then walked over to his chair and sat down, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes narrowed slightly. Sherlock too sat down in his own chair facing John. "What did Mycroft tell you?" he asked.

"Who is Mycroft? And I thought I was going to be the one asking questions?" John retorted.

Sherlock let out a sigh and rolled his eyes. "Yes, alright then. Mycroft is my elder brother. He is the person you met today."

"How do you know I met him today?"

"I can smell where he touched the collar of your jacket," Sherlock gazed at him as though daring John to ask how that was possible.

Instead, John let out sigh and shook his head slowly. His arms came uncrossed and settled on the arms of his chair. This was good, Sherlock thought. Crossed arms was a sign of being closed off, not open to new things. "Your brother is mental," John remarked as though commenting on the weather.

Sherlock grinned. "You have no idea…"

John gave him a small smile, but it was wiped from his face shortly after. "He told me things… showed me things… Sherlock, I want you to be honest with me…"

"He told you of our lineage," Sherlock interrupted, knowing now what his brother had done. He'd forced Sherlock into showing his hand, and this would be it. Either John would run away screaming, or the bond between them would strengthen and a whole new realm of possibility would be opened. Either way he was going to kill his brother.

"Yes, I suppose he did," John muttered, his eyes averting to the ground. "Can – Can you… really do that?" The blond man looked up hesitantly. Sherlock didn't say anything, just simply nodded. "Show me." The command was quiet, whispered, but still unyielding.

Sherlock stood and began stripping out of his housecoat, then his loose cotton pyjamas. Once he was bare (self-consciousness didn't really exist in his family considering their nature), he stood still and reached into his mind, the part that was itching to get out and show John just what he'd been missing. A tickling sensation followed the fur quickly growing everywhere on his body. Then the sensation of organs readjusting themselves and reshaping inside; it wasn't painful, but rather felt like someone squeezing gently. Next his skull lengthened and sharp fangs grew in; his ears traveled up the side of his head and the bones in his legs readjusted causing him to fall forward on to the massive paws that had replaced his hands. Lastly, his spine elongated to form a long tail that twitched from side to side.

When all was said and done, Sherlock stood as a black leopard, Panthera Pardus his mind filled in the scientific terminology. John's eyes were wide and uncertain. He stood examining the beast before him, and Sherlock could tell there was a lot of doubt and hesitancy in that gaze. So the large cat padded forward until he stood directly in front of John. John stared at him a moment longer before reaching out slowly and touching Sherlock's head, his fingers brushing through the fur and lightly massaging Sherlock's scalp. Sherlock leaned into the touch and let a low contented sound rumble out from deep inside his chest. John shifted to better scratch at Sherlock's ears, and Sherlock pressed back. After a moment though, John pulled away. Sherlock was tempted to follow, but didn't, recognizing that the moment had passed.

"Sherlock, we need to talk about this," John said, leaning back in his chair.

Sherlock slowly backed up a few steps and transformed back into a man before pulling his housecoat back on. He sat back down in his chair and waited for John to continue. John was looking at the floor, his fingers twisting in his lap. "Sherlock," he started. "Why did you bite me?"

Sherlock looked to the floor. He should have known that John would start with this question. There was nothing for it now. He would tell the truth… anything John asked, Sherlock would tell the truth. "It's the beginning of the bonding ritual," he said, his eyes sliding up to look at John who looked even more confused.

"Bonding ritual?"

"I know I said I'd let you ask the questions, but I think it would be best if I started from the beginning." John nodded and sat forward in his chair. Sherlock took in a deep breath before continuing. "I am what's commonly called a Shape Shifter. I can only assume one shape, that of a black leopard. The gift is genetic; my father has the ability as well as my brother, Mycroft, of which I'm sure you already know." Sherlock stood then, he was too restless to sit, and started to slowly pace in a large circle around the living area.

"My parents used to be ambassadors to the Afghani government. Mycroft, who is nine years my senior worked with them. We lived in Kabul for a long time. However I stayed in London most of the year to attend a private boarding school that my parents thought would be best. I won't go into my school years… they're not the point of tonight's discussion." He glanced over at John who had an amused smirk. Sherlock could only imagine what John was thinking about his school years and it made him smile as well.

"Anyway, after university, I came to live in Kabul with my parents for a time. I'd never been one for politics, but I always loved a good puzzle, and it was actually Mycroft who put me to work finding out things for the embassy. Things like who blackmailed who, who had threatened who, who had murdered who," Sherlock paced faster. It entertained me… for a while. But my mind grew stagnant with all the political scams. I never had a real challenge; the motives were all the same."

Sherlock slowed down a little and came to a halt in the middle of the living area. His hands were clasped behind his back and his eyes were locked on the opposite window, but he wasn't looking out. "It was my last mission I was doing with Mycroft when I found you. We were out looking for a group of militants who were threatening the peace talks. On the way back, we passed by your hill. I was running beside Mycroft when your scent hit me. It was like someone had hooked me through the nose and was pulling me towards you. Your scent was so… so appealing." Sherlock looked down to the floor. His breaths were coming slightly faster and his pulse was higher than normal. Odd… how just a memory can affect the body so, he thought to himself.

"I'd never smelt anything so alluring, and I had to make it mine. I didn't care if you belonged to anyone else; you were going to be mine. And so I took. Mycroft stepped in before I could finish the bonding. He told me that we didn't have time for any it, and to simply mark you and get it over with. He couldn't have known what I was going through; else he probably wouldn't have stopped me. As it was, his presence was enough to push me back into a somewhat logical mind and I decided to start the bond, to mark you.

"I intended to come back and finish the process, but it never happened and before I knew it I was on a plane to London. I spent the next two years searching for you, but no trace. I wondered if you were still in Afghanistan. I wondered if you'd been hurt or killed. It wasn't until that day in St. Bart's… when Stamford introduced us, that I knew you were even still alive. You know the rest of the story…"

John was silent for a long time, staring at his feet with his hands clasped in his lap. "So have you finished it then?" he finally murmured.

"Finished what?"

"The bonding?"

"No… being near you has strengthened the bond, but it is still incomplete."

"What exactly does finishing the bond entail?"

Sherlock glanced over at John who was staring at him. He felt blood infuse his cheeks and wished that his pale complexion didn't show it so easily. "Usually the bonding mark is followed by coitus. The exchange of fluids therein allow the bond to strengthen between the couple. Of course just being near the each other helps, but the bond doesn't quite know which way to go until coitus is achieved."

John was silent for a while once again. He cleared his throat before asking his next question. "You're telling me that we have to have sex?"

"Only if we want the bond to further."

"There's an option?"

"Yes, the bond is still weak enough that it could be broken with few side effects."

Another pause. "What makes you so sure I'd be a good mate?" John whispered.

Sherlock looked over at the sandy haired man and at once wanted to comfort him. It was obvious that John was having some kind of internal turmoil. "It all goes back to the first time I smelled you, John. As a Shape Shifter, it has been programmed into our genes to be able to find a good mate. Your scent tells me that you would make… a very worthy mate." Sherlock smiled.

John glanced up at the tall dark haired man, doubt still lingering in his visage. "You're genes tell you that another bloke is the best mate for you? Not very keen on keeping the lineage going, is it?"

Sherlock grinned and shrugged.

"Do you want to break the bond?" John asked quietly.

"I believe I've already answered that."

"Not directly."

"… no," Sherlock murmured. "Do you?"

"No."

Sherlock looked up at John hopefully.

"I've come to know you over the past few weeks, Sherlock, and I can honestly say that you've saved my life. After I was shot in Afghanistan, I couldn't find a purpose… a reason to keep going. But now I've come to realise that you're my purpose, Sherlock. Even if we were to remain friends and never mention anything of bonds or coitus again, I would still say you've given me a purpose. I don't want to go back."

Sherlock moved towards John and crouched down so they were on the same level. "You don't have to," he said quietly, one hand coming to rest on John's intertwined ones.

John looked up at Sherlock and smiled. "So this is it? We're going to be bond mates?" he chuckled a little.

"So it would appear," Sherlock replied smirking.

"What do we do next?"

"Whatever we want."

"But what about what you said… about coitus?" John blushed.

"We can work up to it."

John nodded. "I'd like to try something," he murmured.

"Whatever you want, John," Sherlock smiled.

John leaned forward slightly, his eyes flicking back and forth between Sherlock's blue gaze, checking to see if this was okay. Hesitantly, he bent forward and pressed his lips against Sherlock's cupid bow lips. It was soft and barely more than a touch, but it ignited something inside Sherlock and the man reached up to curl a hand around the back of John's head to pull him into a deeper kiss. His lips pressed firmer against John's and surprisingly, John pressed back. Sherlock let the kiss go on for a moment more before pulling back. Was John okay with this? A flushed face and heavy breath told him that yes, John had definitely been okay with that.

Sherlock smiled and John returned the gesture. "That went well," John remarked.

"Quite," Sherlock replied. "However I suggest we leave it at this for tonight. We both have a lot to think about and if we go any further, I don't think I'll be able to stop next time."

John nodded. "That's fine. I'm knackered anyway. Been a long day what with getting kidnapped by my bond mate's crazy brother."

Sherlock smiled. "I am sorry about that."

"I'm not," John replied. "I'm glad I know the truth now. That's something else I wanted to talk to you about though. I want you to tell me the truth from now on, Sherlock."

"I never actually lied to you before."

"No, but withholding something like this… something that affects us both so much… it's practically the same."

Sherlock nodded. "Alright. I promise."

"Thank you." John let out a long yawn then.

"I think it's time for bed," Sherlock grinned.

"Right, I'm off then."

"Goodnight, John," Sherlock said standing and helping John out of the chair.

"Night, Sherlock," John replied smiling.

With that, Sherlock watched as the sandy haired man ambled out of the living area and up the stairs to his own bedroom. Sherlock didn't need as much sleep as John, and would most likely stay up for another few hours. But that was okay, there was much to think about tonight, nearly all of it involving his soon-to-be bond mate.

oxoxoxoxo

A/N: Hey, so about here is where we break away from the first episode (unless I missed something really big... lol). I'm still not very sure about John's reaction to Sherlock. This is just kind of where my writing took me, so I went with it. I hope you like it.