Disclaimer:I don't own, duh. A.N. So, this happened. No, I had no idea it would. At least the title is right? ^^'''

Molly had certainly given him food for thought, but then again, could he trust her assessment? Her own romantic career was testament to, at the least, a lack of discernment. He'd been hoping for a plan of action, not a "you don't need one." Was he really supposed to assume that John would break his 'revolving door' style attachment...why? Because Sherlock provided cases? Or worse even (not that Molly would know that), because John was his alpha? Whatever that meant.

Maybe it'd be something to analyse in deeper detail, too. John had been nothing but helpful, as ever. But if Sherlock wanted to be able to master his new situation - and, hopefully, his future relationship - he needed all the info he could get. John trying not to overwhelm him was certainly kind, but also a little maddening. How was he supposed to function on a need-to-know basis? That was no way to live. Definitely not for him.

Still, there was no way to investigate more until John was done with his shift. It was one thing to interrupt him for a murder. For burning questions...Sherlock suspected that neither John nor his colleagues would have appreciated the disruption.

It was just a few hours. Surely, he could find a way to entertain himself for that long. Actually, maybe, he should try to gain all the extra data he could, before inquiring after the available explanations.

Instead of mourning the absence of body parts, Sherlock resolutely draped himself on the sofa and prepared for another meeting with the most unruly (and wasn't that saying something) part of himself.

Sherlock wandered around his mind palace, carefully examining every corner. In a way, it felt like wandering somewhere he expected a trigger-happy murderer to be, and this time, without John at his side.

What he did find surprised him. The wolf was lying on his dog bed, and he'd even materialised himself a bone. Not a human one, small mercies. Sherlock would know the difference. The wolf looked up, and kept gnawing on his treat, ignoring him.

Maybe he could - but before he could even imagine a leash, or crate, or something, the wolf glared up at him.

Sherlock sighed. If he wanted info, maybe that should wait. After all, it seemed pretty much settled. Actually, why? Sherlock was under no misapprehension about what a threat that thing could be.

It huffed at him, clearly unimpressed.

"Don't go getting an attitude, now," Sherlock chided.

It let the bone drop and moved to a sitting position. "Tell yourself that."

Sherlock couldn't help it, he laughed. He sat on his haunches, getting face to face with the creature. "That's what I did," he admitted.

As nervous as he was about the new, potentially lethal side that had been foisted onto him...it didn't seem like it wanted to overthrow everything. At least not right now.

Tentatively, his hand dipped into soft fur.

"Finally he gets it," the wolf rumbled. "As if you weren't dangerous already, before I was here."

"Not the same way," Sherlock argued.

"Yeah, more. Opposable thumbs are crafty."

Sherlock grinned again. The furball wasn't wrong. "You still have a lot to explain," he intimated.

"If I know. I'd rather have John here," the wolf replied.

Yeah, well. That could be arranged. John had become a guest since the first day. It didn't matter where he was wandering, the sleuth could summon him with a thought.

Here he was, in the least objectionable of his jumpers. In fact, John - unreal as he was - looked fine enough that Sherlock let himself be distracted for a second. It didn't matter, did it? Nobody would ever know. Literally. "What do you need?" he asked.

"Well..." Sherlock watched the wolf, unsure. But the thing had his snout buried between his paws, and seemed unhappy with the situation.

"Come on, I'm here to be used," mind John cajoled.

Sherlock went scarlet. The wolf looked up, as reproachful as a canid could be. "Now this is plain embarrassing. When I said I wanted John, I meant the real one."

"Sorry, but some of us have a regular job. Well, regular." Even mind John chuckled. "I'm doing my best to actually put in enough hours to keep it, ta very much. Blending in and all, you know? I swear, you needed a lesson or two in that long before turning."

"I'm not taking your opinion. My opinion. Ours." Even his animal self had Sherlock's talent for sounding bemused and haughty at the same time "Not when my alpha is available."

"But I'm not, that's the whole point," John retorted, not unreasonably.

"How do you know, we didn't ask."

"Yeah, I'm not calling. Stop being so needy. What if he doesn't like it?" Sherlock put his foot down. Someone had to.

"He'll say so. He always says what he wants you to do," the stupid mutt retorted.

"You know, he's not wrong. Label the experiments. Leave my gun alone. If I need to add don't call, I will." Mind John shrugged.

"If you don't, I will," the wolf insisted.

"You know what? Try to. As you said, opposable thumbs are a convenient accessory. But even if you manage to... would John even understand barking if he's not in the same shape?" Would he? He was pretty sure he wouldn't, but maybe he just needed to focus better.

"I don't need them. Or a phone." The wolf looked very proud of himself, snout now pointing up as if inviting throat scritches.

"What?" They say you can't shout inside your own head. They're wrong, because Sherlock definitely managed it then.

"You know when you wanted to start ignoring your alpha? And I wouldn't let you because, honestly, what kind of rude behaviour is that? Besides, as if I'd willingly give him up."

"Hey, I'm here," Mind John said softly.

"The pale clone. Off," The wolf ordered, snapping his jaws too close to his femoral artery.

"Hey!" Sherlock yelled, but sent mind John away with a thought. For a minute that he'd forgotten what he was handling...He needed to stop that monster.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist. I couldn't harm him. He's not real," the wolf huffed.

"Real enough," the detective retorted, arms crossed.

"It's enough only because you don't know what you have. And you would if you'd just listen."

"Actually, know what? I'm showing you." The wolf grabbed his wrist - gently - and got up. It started leading Sherlock around, and for a moment, he allowed it. But they kept going, deep and deeper still, towards dark corners he'd much rather never see again, ta.

"Stop it," and no, he'd never admit he'd whined. But the beast kept going, as if it hadn't heard him at all. "How much longer?" he tried asking.

It'd have to open its mouth to reply, and once free, Sherlock could make a dash for it. Towards purer air, lighter rooms. He couldn't trick himself, though, the wolf ignoring him and guiding him still, soft-footed but sure.

Finally, Sherlock stopped cold, staring at a dark wooden hatch. "That's not supposed to be here." Not because it was supposed to be somewhere else, either. It hadn't been moved (sometimes these things happened; any palace required maintenance). No, he'd never seen that thing. Which meant it couldn't possibly be there. Only, absurdly, defiantly, there it was.

"Is that where you came from?" Sherlock asked. And most importantly, could he be sent back the same way? And the door walled up afterwards? John hadn't mentioned a cure at all, but John was pretty comfortable in his own skin. Skins. All of them. But maybe he'd simply adapted in the best way he could because he saw no way out. And if Sherlock provided him with one, then...

He didn't know that a canid could pity you, but this one definitely did, and with no more than a look. "Are you seriously that dumb or haven't you been listening?"

"Have you considered the 'I don't trust you' option?" Sherlock sneered right back.

"It keeps baffling me. If you don't trust yourself, who are you gonna trust?"

"John" he replied immediately. "Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade..." He could have gone on (if only a little) but he was interrupted.

"We need to do something about that self-confidence of yours, but not today," the wolf huffed. "In the meantime, open that door."

The whole 'walling the door up' idea came back to him. Nope, he wasn't going to go through strange doors in his brain's basement.

"Oh for..." The wolf rose on two legs and opened it himself. The desert was on the other side, blazing and lethal.

"You don't mean -"

"If we ever need each other, the door's right there. Go get him. Of course, since it's in the back, for both of us, nobody actually uses it for 'tea please' when anything else will do. But with you insisting that I couldn't have him? I do. Here's your evidence." The wolf actually took one step in, paw on the sand. Then tilted his head at Sherlock, seemed to think again, and retreated,

"How did you even know about this?"

"I could smell him, of course. And if you try to lock this up, I'll just tear it down entirely. We'll see how you do with nothing to keep us apart."

It sounded terrifying and perversely tempting in equal measure. Sherlock needed to leave his mind palace, right now. No dangerous companions. Tea. Tea and hopefully some of Mrs. Hudson's baking would settle him down.