Panthera Pardus

Chapter 5: The Diogenes

It had been two hours since Sherlock had been released from the hospital and John was just about ready to punch him in the face. "Sherlock, you need rest. Your body can't heal if you don't lay still," John explained as he gently pushed the man back down onto his rarely used bed.

"John, I heal faster than you. I'll be fine! I just need to go down to the morgue. Molly got in a cadaver that was poisoned by actaea pachypoda. I wanted to observe the effects it has on the cardiac system."

John's brow furrowed. "White baneberry?"

Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise, but it didn't last long. "Precisely. I need to get down there before the family collects the body tomorrow."

"You don't need to do anything. You're going to tire yourself out and the wound won't heal, then you'll get an infection and have to spend even more time resting." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "I'll bring you anything you need. I'll even stay in here to keep you company."

Sherlock looked John up and down for a long minute before nodding. John sagged with relief. "Great. I'm just going to go grab a few things. Did you need anything?"

"Some tea?"

"Of course," John nodded and went out into the kitchen.

It took perhaps fifteen minutes to heat the water and prepare a tea tray. However, when John walked back into Sherlock's bedroom, it was to find a black panther curled up on top of the bed fast asleep. The deep slow breaths of the giant cat ruffled the fur of its tail, which was wrapped around its body. John gazed in awe at the panther. He'd only seen Sherlock in his alternate form once before, and that was only for a few seconds.

There was just something utterly captivating about the animal before him. The course coat was not just black. It was iridescent and shone with an astounding array of blues and purples when under different lights. The enormous paws were capable of sprouting vicious claws, but were currently relaxed in sleep and curled over Sherlock's muzzle as though to keep his nose warm. The softly curled body of the panther was layered in corded muscle, the long thick tail not excluded. However what most held John's attention was the simple fact that he did not feel fear towards this dangerous, powerful creature.

In fact, John was having a difficult time categorizing the emotions he was feeling. There was no tightness in his gut nor tremor in his hands. There was no urge to flee before the panther woke. There were no ragged breaths exhaled through quivering lungs. There was instead a relaxed feeling that surrounded him, as though his muscles had all decided to go limp. His breaths were slow and even, and his mouth curved up in a small smile. He was sure the steady thump in his chest was audible even to the panther, and was a bit surprised the cat hadn't woken from it.

Perhaps this was what it meant to be a bond mate? John sat down on the edge of the bed after setting the tea tray down on the nightstand. Had someone told John a year ago that he would be falling in love with a man, let alone a shapeshifter, he probably would have laughed at them and walked away. However here he was. There was something that drew him to Sherlock. He could feel his heart quicken whenever the man so much as said his name. John smiled. He really was being ridiculous… like a teenager. Sherlock had mentioned that just spending time together would strengthen their bond. John could tell now, that it was true. He could feel a deep connection to the shapeshifter, and in all reality, that scared him.

What was he doing here? His life had changed directions so fast; he was still trying to catch up. One day he'd been a soldier, just home with an honorable discharge. Then the next he was in a relationship with an impossible man who could do impossible things. John took in a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. He needed to get away for a little bit. Glancing over at the black panther, John decided Sherlock would be fine for a while. Moving quickly, he left the bedroom, grabbed his jacket and slipped on his shoes before exiting the building.

Regency Park wasn't too far away and provided walking paths. Hands stuffed in pockets against the damp chill, John made his way into the park and chose a path at random. He kept to the side of the path to make way for the joggers, few that they were. Breathing in deep, he took in the London air and exhaled, imagining all tension leaving with it. It was something that he'd learned while in the army. In order to make a clean shot, you needed to be calm. Taking in slow deep breaths helped to calm a racing heart.

Once John's pulse had slowed, he turned his mind back to what had initially caused the spike. Sherlock was slowly taking over his life. It was a fact. And he really hadn't put up that much of a resistance, despite the fact that it was contrary to everything he had wanted when he was younger. Well… if he redefined some things, it might fit. Technically, he could still back out of this whole thing. The bond had not been finalized, so John could still leave. He had a choice.

But did he really? Even the thought of leaving Sherlock right now, of never seeing him again, tore something inside of John. This bond thing had gotten inside his head and messed with his emotions. What could he be doing right now if he'd never met Sherlock? Have a steady girlfriend? Be a well-paid doctor in an upscale hospital? John would never know.

Frowning, he kicked absently at a rock on the side of the path, sending it skittering along the asphalt. He stopped then and looked around. During his inner rant, he'd managed to get to the complete other side of the park from where he'd entered. The walk back to 221b wasn't looking appealing at the moment. He wasn't sure he could face Sherlock, but Sherlock needed him. No, Sherlock could take care of himself. He's a grown man. "John Watson?" A familiar voice behind him asked.

John spun to see Mycroft Holmes' assistant, Anthea. "Anthea?"

"Taylor today, sir," she corrected him.

"Taylor then."

"If you'll follow me, sir." She said turning towards the nearest exit to the park.

She didn't even look back to see if John was following, and he didn't… for a few seconds. Then he hurried to catch up with her. "Mycroft want to speak with me again?" Taylor didn't answer. "Right. I'll have you know that I can't always be expected to drop everything when he calls. In fact, I really should be getting back to Sherlock now."

Taylor still didn't say anything, but she gave him an amused smile. John rolled his eyes and continued to follow her. They wove along the path for a few minutes until the exit loomed in the mist. A black sedan sat waiting for them, and Taylor opened the rear passenger door for John. Glancing inside quickly, John determined that he might as well go along with whatever Mycroft wanted. The man would get it eventually anyway.

The car pulled out into traffic after Taylor had gotten in and sped off. The ride was silent. The only sound was the soft clicking of keys as Taylor texted away on her Blackberry. John tried to initiate conversation twice (once about the weather and once about where they were going), but Taylor hadn't answered either time. Sighing, John settled back in the seat and decided to just wait it out.

It wasn't too very long after that that the car pulled up to a large building with a simple façade. John got out of the car and Taylor led him up the stairs and inside the double heavy wooden doors. He noticed a plaque on the building labeling it as the Diogenes Club. Inside, the building was decorated with class, simple but elegant. It was also very, very quiet. John was hesitant to even breath, let alone ask where they were going. Eventually, Taylor stopped in front of a blank wooden door. John glanced at her, but she was still texting away on her Blackberry. He shook his head as he turned the handle and let himself in. The room he'd been led to held bookcases inlaid into the wall, tall windows that let in copious amounts of light, and intricate Persian rugs lay on the wooden floor. Two chairs sat facing each other; a small table with a bottle of brandy and two glasses sat beside one of the chairs. John looked up from the brandy to see Mycroft Holmes going through a folder of paperwork. Next to him sat a desk with more folders.

"John," he greeted the doctor without looking up. "How nice to see you. Please do have a seat."

John let out an annoyed sigh, but sat anyway. "What do you want, Mycroft?"

"Getting straight to the point." Mycroft looked up at John as he set the folder down on the desk. "Fine then. I can appreciate a man who doesn't dally around." The elder Holmes slowly walked around the table and poured himself a finger of the dark liquid then sat down, crossing one leg over the other. "You've left my brother," he said simply before taking a sip.

"What? No, I haven't."

"Just now, you did. You took a walk in Regency Park to sort things out because you were starting to have a panic attack."

"That's…"

"No need to deny it, John," Mycroft said conversationally. "Cameras, you know. There's very little I don't see."

John gripped the arms of the chair tightly and looked down. Anger was starting to boil to the surface and it wouldn't do to throttle Mycroft in his own office. "What do you want, Mycroft," John asked again once he'd calmed a little.

"If I were to offer you a large sum of money, would you leave my brother and never look back?"

John looked up at him, his brow furrowed. What was Mycroft playing at?

"Oh no need to look at me that way, John. After all, it's what you were thinking about just before I brought you here, wasn't it?" John's gaze dropped again. "I thought so." Mycroft took another sip of brandy.

They were both silent for a long couple of minutes before John spoke again. "What happens during a bond?" he asked quietly.

Mycroft gave him a curious look, but answered the question. "A bond is a chemical attachment that happens between two compatible individuals. It may be initiated by simply being near each other, but isn't finalized until there is an exchange of bodily fluids during coitus."

"I know… I know all of that," John replied. "What I mean is… what makes the two individuals compatible? Do they even have a choice?"

"Ah," Mycroft intoned. "You're worried that the bond is taking over your mind, that it isn't actually you feeling these things between you and my brother."

John nodded. His eyes moved up to look at Mycroft. A small smile sat there as though he knew a secret. "I can assure you, John, that you would not be feeling these things if you weren't somewhat attracted to my brother. Everyone has a choice. You can still walk away if you think it's the right thing. However before you do, know that Sherlock has never found another compatible mate, until you. My brother is a unique individual, and as a result it seems his taste in mates is also unique."

John raised a single eyebrow. Was Mycroft insulting or complimenting him? Rolling his eyes, John let it go. "So, if I were to just leave, eventually these feelings would fade?"

"That is correct. It is similar to other romantic attachments in that aspect. It is also similar in that the feelings may never completely fade away. This is especially true of perfect bond mates."

"Perfect bond mates?"

Mycroft sipped at his brandy before answering. "We can bond with anyone, John, and the feeling of connection will be there. However there are individuals who are more compatible and it is here where we see perfect bond mates. Those who are uniquely suited to each other. I believe it was Plato who once said 'Humans were originally created with four arms, four legs and a head with two faces. Fearing their power, Zeus split them into two separate beings, condemning them to spend their lives in search of their other halves.' So you see, we may find some who fit a little better than others, but there will only be one who fits perfectly."

John sat motionless, everything Mycroft had told him running through his head. It was a lot to take in, but it seemed he did have a choice. It would most likely leave Sherlock miserable, but it was an option. Did he want to leave? John thought about it. If he left, he could have a normal life. Maybe move to the country and take up a private practice? As soon as the idea crossed his mind though, another followed on its tail. How utterly dull. Living with Sherlock these past couple of months had been the most fulfilled he'd felt since leaving Afghanistan. With Sherlock, he felt useful. He felt needed. Not to mention the adrenaline pumping chases through London's night were fun too.

A smile crossed John's face, and he knew what he wanted to do. Looking up at Mycroft, he nodded once. Mycroft smiled as well and lifted his glass towards John. "Do take care of my brother, won't you?"

John nodded and left. Taylor was waiting for him, and led him back to the car. The ride back to 221b was short and soon enough, John was through the front door and striding up the stairs. "Sherlock?" he called out, headed toward the detective's bedroom. There, laying on the bed in nearly the same position as he'd left him in, was the giant black panther. John smiled at the cat affectionately and crossed the room to sit down on the edge of the bed.

One hand hesitantly reached out and settled on the great cat's flank. He twitched, but didn't wake. Slowly, John ran his hand down the course fur, admiring the way it shone in the dull lighting. John slipped off his shoes and jacket then before carefully crawling up the bed. It was wide enough to easily hold two full-grown men. He settled near the headboard, his back resting against the pillows stacked there, and his thigh just barely brushing against the panther's spine. He let his hand rest on the panther's side as he relaxed back into the warm comfort of the bed. As his mind started to drift off, there was one prominent thought in John's head. He would be crazy to leave this behind. This wonderful, unique individual who made John feel needed.

: : :

Some hours later, John woke up to a strong arm wrapped around him. His brain took a moment to process that, and then he realized that the arm had fur, lots of fur. Opening his eyes, John looked down to see the panther had moved during his slumber so that now he was half lying across John's lap. There was a low rumbling coming from the panther's chest and his front paws were flexing and retracting. He'd seen cats do this before, and had been told it was called kneading. However, Sherlock was going to knead holes in his trousers if he didn't stop with those huge claws. "Sherlock," John said quietly.

The cat remained where he was. "Sherlock!" This time, John pushed the cat to the side with a small grunt of effort. A low growl left the cat's throat, but he didn't stop John when he pushed him off. "Sherlock, we need to talk. Can you change back?"

If panther's could roll their eyes, John was sure Sherlock would be doing so. However the reversal processes of changing back to human began. The fur slowly shrunk and the cat's bones changed and shifted until Sherlock's lean long body was lying beside John. John's face blushed a deep red as he realized that Sherlock was nude. Once again, Sherlock rolled his eyes, but reached for the quilt to cover up his lower half. "Ehm… thanks," John said.

"You wanted to talk, John?"

"Erm, yes."

"You've been to see my brother," Sherlock stated, his brow furrowing.

"Not my decision. However it did help." Sherlock raised a single eyebrow and indicated for John to continue. "I was having doubts about being bonded," he started out. "I didn't know if the bond was taking over my mind or if I was making my own decision."

"John…"

"Let me finish please." Sherlock nodded at John's upheld hand, and John continued. "I was confused, and obviously your brother was watching me because he sent a car round to pick me up. We talked, and he explained things. How bonds work and how there are perfect bonds." John was quiet for a moment. Sherlock held still as though waiting for the axe to fall.

"I have thought things through a bit and decided that there's no other place I'd rather be, than right here," John said slowly. He glanced over at Sherlock who was staring at him.

The detective didn't say a single word as he shifted to sit up. His eyes never left John's though. "Sherlock?" John asked.

Sherlock replied by gently pulling John toward him. One hand wrapped around the back of John's head, leading him forward into a gentle kiss. Soft lips met warm chapped ones, and John found his eyes closing as his senses all redirected to be more receptive towards the slow, but passionate kiss his mate was giving him. All too soon, Sherlock pulled back. "Could I have some tea, John?" he asked.

John's brain took a moment to catch up with what was being asked. "Tea?"

"Yes, you know… hot water? Tea bags? Sugar?"

"I know what tea is, Sherlock," John sighed. He supposed that the kiss was as close to a thank you that he was going to get from Sherlock. He sighed dramatically as he left the bed to make tea.

oxoxoxoxo

A/N: Yes this is a day early! Consider it my fluffy Valentine's Day present to all of you! lol... Hope you all are enjoying the story and stay tuned, because stuff is about to get real!