Disclaimer: I don't own a thing. A.N. The happiest of birthdays and so, so many returns to my saintly beta, the lovely Chrwythyn. If you've enjoyed something of mine in the last few years, send her way a grateful thought, because she's a literal lifesaver.
Sherlock wished he hadn't opened that can of worms. True, distracting John at the moment had worked decently. And it wasn't like his alpha was openly wallowing in the grief Sherlock just had to dig out, like a dog disinterring a dead body.
"Not a fucking dog" his wolf self had growled, not appreciating his thoughts. Sherlock wordlessly pointed at one of the toys he'd decided to add to the den...and the wolf promptly destroyed it, glaring at him.
"Why are you so upset about it anyway?" the sleuth asked.
"It's humiliating. And if you wanted to just put yourself down, you know what, fine. But humiliating me means humiliating John too, and I'm not letting that one pass. You've done damage enough, and you know it."
Now, normally Sherlock would snap back at anyone, but that was true. "You have a plan to fix it, then?"
"Maybe." The wolf flashed him a half-snarl, even if Sherlock would have sworn there was an amused glint in his eyes
You'll have to let me out for it, though. A lot more than you were planning to, especially while we're moving further away from the full moon. Or maybe you won't, but...I'll be the one of us least embarrassed by what's required."
"And what would that be?"
"Cuddling. The more the better. He's lost a pack, and it's not like we can undo that. But he's not alone, far from it. Spoken assurances could be manipulation, or said because it's expected -" the wolf explained
Sherlock snorted. "Sorry, have you met me? When do I say things because it's what people expect to hear?"
"When it's advantageous that people see you as polite. Anyway, words can be argued with, but it's difficult to argue with physical contact. That's gonna make our point."
"Unless he shoves us away," Sherlock groused.
"He won't. But anyway, we can always adjust our plans on the fly. Good boy, though."
"What?" The detective poured all his outrage into the single syllable.
"You're using we too. That's great progress!"
Sherlock would have undoubtedly retorted with something scathing, and possibly tried to lock the den for a while in revenge, which he hadn't done since John's mediation. Luckily, the wolf seemed to actually like the place and hadn't tried to make a mess of any other rooms.
But John had announced his return just then, and if the furry nuisance could really help heal the damage Sherlock had accidentally inflicted, well - he owed it to John, didn't he? And the wolf had a point - while Sherlock certainly didn't mind being right in John's space, and if anything, he needed boundaries enforced on him, the idea of plain cuddling was foreign to him. It would definitely raise questions if he started out of the blue. and he couldn't imagine an answer that would not open a whole other can of worms than the one they'd just gone through.
"Oh? What brought this on?" John asked, when a cold nose pressed against his leg.
Sherlock let out a little whine, but didn't change back to elaborate better.
"Problem?" his alpha asked, and smiled when the black wolf's head shook eagerly. "Fine, then I can grab a bite, can't I?" This time, he received a deep nod.
It took John a little longer than a quick meal would usually take. Sherlock flanked him, step by step, and it was too tempting to leave a hand on him at all times, scratching his ears, sinking in soft fur. Working one-handed was, obviously, slower. As a doctor, he would have disapproved of anyone doing the same, but lycanthrope immune system meant that the only thing he could have actually caught from his companion he already had, well before meeting Sherlock. When he sat down, Sherlock curled up, right on his feet. John talked to him,about his day, about Stamford's birthday coming up and what they could get the man, but none of that was worthy of an answer that would require a human voicebox. In the end, a little nudge meant John wanted to be let up.
Table cleared and with Sherlock still glued to him, John sighed and moved to the sitting room. A little surfing landed him on a nature documentary. He was about to sit again, when he changed his mind and shifted himself. "So?" he barked.
"So nothing. You're my alpha, there's nothing to hunt, nothing to do, why not this?" Sherlock nosed at the side of John's throat.
The blond wolf's snout pointed at the smiley face on their wall. "So no more of this then?"
"I make no promises. For now, if you don't mind..."
"Okay, okay. 'S nice." The two of them curled around each other, half-watching, but mainly enjoying the contact. Maybe human him would learn. Eventually. One had to hold out hope for the silly pup.
Leaving the wolf at the forefront didn't mean that Sherlock would stop thinking. Yes, yes, he was...enjoying the contact too, on a level. And maybe someday, when he'd figured how not to disappoint him, he'd enjoy this as himself, and more...all the more John had offered. But he wanted a way to make John feel how very much not alone he was that didn't require him to shift. A way to make a statement. Fine, maybe what ultimately came to mind wasn't the most human option. He was blaming the wolf's blissed out state for messing with his endocrine system and influencing the rest of his mind, too.
Still, the plan was set. So the day after, instead of shifting again, he glanced at john over his cup of tea and said, as casually as possible, "I was hoping you could help me shop."
"Help you? So this isn't a John, bring back gingersnaps and five different types of nails situation?"
"I don't see what the trouble is for the aforementioned request, it was for science, John, but no, it's not the same. I bet they stopped looking for that bastard's strays, what with no more attacks reported, so... you did say I could get a collar of my own. I'm not even sure where they sell them, in the first place, you see?" He shrugged.
"Ok. Yeah. Sure. I can help you with that."
Sherlock just thought that matching more would be the sort of thing that would send the right message. Did his previous pack ever joke about their dog tags? A question for...maybe never. Maybe if John decided on his own to reminisce again, improbable as that sounded. Pleased John, he expected. John finding it hot, he hadn't.
His alpha didn't make another pass at him, though. He shook his head, as if to chase away the thought, and said, "Let's get it done, then."
Following John's lead, once again, was something Sherlock would never admit to anyone that he was starting to enjoy. Mostly because his Alpha was the only one who would ever evoke that feeling, so it wouldn't do to let anyone else imagine they could request the same.
"You do know it's not an alpha or were thing, right?" the wolf snarked in his head. Fine, yes, he suspected as much. But there was no need to point it out.
Finally they were in the right shop. Sherlock grimaced - the smell in there was positively unholy. Even packaged, with his new senses, the cacophony of the various kibbles, options of wet food, and assorted...he wasn't sure what, in all honesty, made his stomach churn. If anyone tried to feed him some of that, there would be blood spilled.
"Now you don't wish you were a dog, do you?" his inner wolf said. Ok, point taken.
At least John went straight to the right shelf - Sherlock wasn't going to wonder how he remembered, he'd just be grateful for it. There were many options, in various materials and colours, most of which looked positively garish. "One similar to mine, yeah?" John asked, pointing to the leather ones. Sherlock nodded emphatically, unwilling to breathe any more than strictly necessary.
"Pick the colour, then," John said. Sherlock shrugged. It didn't matter. What mattered was to know what John wanted to see him in.
John grabbed a deep blue one. Like Sherlock's favourite scarf. For a moment, he rested it against Sherlock's throat. No one was in that aisle, not that the detective would have cared. "Yep, right size," his Alpha said, as if he'd done nothing strange. Sherlock swallowed hard.
"Which tag?" John asked then.
"Definitely the same as yours," Sherlock rumbled. Looking silly, with a bone-shaped one on, didn't matter at all when weighed against the charms of matching his Alpha. As a former soldier, and rugby player back in college, John could never miss the significance of a similar attire.
He was about to snatch one, when John said, "Uh...actually, they didn't have these available last time. Maybe we can get a pair?" His hand hovered over a simple round tag, but with a skull and crossbones on one side, and the other empty to be engraved on.
"Yes please." He hadn't meant to be so polite. It'd just...slipped out.
"We're done, then. Unless you want a leash or two too."
"Do you?" Sherlock asked. On one side, he'd always wanted to put the wolf on a leash, and who better to hold it than John. On the other, he wasn't sure how he'd feel about John wanting to.
"Nah. Even if we decide to be in different shapes, I don't really want anything in the way if we decide to change. A collar can be hidden in a pocket, or under clothes. A leash without a dog, now that'd be awkward."
They high-tailed it towards the cashier. When she saw the tags, she slipped two small forms towards them. John took over, filling in just their names. He was about to give them back, when Sherlock stopped him. "You forgot something." Under his own name, he added "John's, call " and added his Alpha's phone number.
"Oh right." He added "Sherlock's, call and ask if it's for science," followed by the man's number.
The bored blonde glanced at them and then actually stared at them. "Sherlock? Wait, you..."
"My sister got us pups and has a weird sense of humour," John said with a shrug.
"Can you get it done or should I take the time to deduce you?"
"No, of course. Right away. Sorry." Her eyes flitted between the two of them one last time, before she went into the back with their purchase and the forms. A few minutes later, she was back, with a rather plastic smile.
They left all too eagerly.
"What did she do, that the idea of being deduced spooked her that way?" John asked.
"She's using her job to swipe things for her five cats. No threat to national security. If the owner doesn't notice, they can afford it. By the way, good thinking, but you didn't convince her in the slightest."
"Oh, I know. But if the Daily Mail publishes that we're switches in a committed BDSM relationship and into pet play...Well, it won't even be the most wrong thing they've ever insinuated about you."
They shared a laugh. What else could you do?
