The next few days went by, and the nights with Sherlock's beast form were terrible, but John had tried to talk to the wolf-Sherlock to calm him down. It did work, but if another prisoner shouted at him, he would become vicious again.

During the day, the two men would discuss their escape.

"It will be the day after the cycle ends. When night falls, I act as if I am about to transform. The guard will leave quickly to get back up. I will use this," Sherlock held up a lockpick.

"Where did you get that?" John asked in amazement.

"I snatched it once when I went out for a job. They were bringing in one of those Thieves Guild lot. That's what I meant when you first came in, when I said I could escape if I wanted. I just had no reason to. So I use the lockpick to pick my lock, then I give it to you so you can pick yours open, while u get the grate in the floor open." Sherlock gestured to the iron grate in the middle of the dungeon floor, near the guard's watch. "We jump down there, and we go through the sewer system. We find the trapdoor which leads to the guard's barracks,"

"What for?"

"We search the confiscated items chest. Take some weapons and supplies. We get the hell out, and jump the wall behind Jorvaskar. We run for Riverwood to get some food to bring on our journey. We travel to the next village, which will be Falkreath. We catch a carriage to Winterhold, then we're ready to go to the college."

The last night of Sherlock's cycle was different. John thought that even in wolf form, Sherlock knew that his suffering would soon be over. John was getting excited. He was going to get out. He didn't know what he'd do after he helped Sherlock. He wouldn't be any richer. He didn't have a family to go to. There was the thought of possibly staying with Sherlock, but what if he just wanted to do his own thing after being cured? What was to say that Sherlock would even care about associating with John anymore?

"John,"

John was awoken from his thoughts. It was dawn.

"Are you still ready for tonight?" Sherlock asked.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know. I was wanted to make sure you weren't having second thoughts."
"No, I'm definitely not having any of those." John assured him. "By the way, what do you plan on doing after you're cured?"

"I don't know. I might have to just find somewhere for work; just a little business or something, I mean, I don't think I'm strong enough to get a high-paying job like a sell-sword or anything like that. Not anymore."

"Not anymore?"

"I used to travel a lot. I was stronger then. Even after I was infected, I still was a warrior, I just made sure that by the full moon, I was in a secluded place away from any civilians. Then I was arrested for crimes against the Legion. I was at Helgen, about to be executed. You would have heard the story about the dragon, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. It attacked Helgen, didn't it? Some of the prisoners escaped."

"That's right. Then there was the dragon outside Whiterun, and the west watch tower. I fought it, and that's when I found out what I was. After slaying the dragon, it was like its soul went into me. I felt its power inside. The Jarl of Whiterun asked for my future help against the dragons, but when he found out about my disease, I was locked up for good measure, only to come out when it was safe and when help was needed."

"Wow, you have quite an interesting story. It sounds like you've lost quite a bit." John said sadly.

"I suppose so. But I'm sick of being a slave. I will still fight the dragons, but I won't do it for any Jarl or person of authority. I will do it for Skyrim."

"You've got your next adventure planned ahead." John grinned.

"What about you, John? What will you do after this?"

"I don't know. I'm poor, I've got no family, and now I'm a criminal. Things aren't looking too good." John admitted.

Was there really much point of him escaping?

"Travel with me."

"What?" John was so glad to hear those words.

"Travel with me." He repeated. "It would be nice to have a companion."

"Wow, thank you. I would love that. Maybe… you should charge for dragon slaying, don't you think? You can't really have a job, and kill dragons." John smirked.

"That is true… that's a good idea. We will charge whoever wants the dragon slain."

"We?"

"Yes, you will help me or course! Killing dragons isn't just about using fancy words, I need a blade at my side."

Night was approaching – it was nearly time.

Sherlock kept glancing over at John. When the sky outside turned a darker blue, Sherlock nodded in John's direction, and he started his pretend transformation.

Sherlock shouted. He breathed heavily, and he writhed in his cell. The patrolling guard approached in alarm, and left the dungeon quickly. Sherlock reached inside his shirt and pulled out the lockpick, and he picked the lock on his cell until it clicked. He made his way out the cell, and threw the lockpick to John, who immediately began to pick the lock on his own cell, while Sherlock crouched over the grate on the floor. He grasped the bars and wrenched the cover off, leaving a square hole to the level below. He ran over to John and helped with the lock, clicking it open in a few seconds.

"You go first," Sherlock gestured to the hole in the ground.

John slipped himself down, and Sherlock followed behind, pulling the grate down with him, so it would sit back in its original place.

John observed his surroundings. They were in a tunnel. The stone walls were wet, and he heard the sound on running water. Sherlock turned to John, with a look of excitement.

"Let's go."