Of werewolves and vampire's

Untitled Part 3

John watched as his mate walk away, his scent lingering in the air. A heady mix, John could smell- his dry cleaned clothes, his shampoo, his soap. He could smell the chemicals he had been working on. The scent of cold parchment and blood that marked his as a vampire. But most importantly, he could smell sandalwood,smoke and cinnamon. He smelled like danger and adventure. It lingered and swirled about in the air. Mike's scent of Sunday roast faded in his mind. The wolf was pleased with the mate he chose. The vampire Sherlock was smart, interesting, and his eyes spoke of danger, of fire, of the thrill of the hunt, of blood and pain. He would make for a very fine mate for them.

"Yeah, he's always like that." Something about the tone in Mike's voice told him Mike planned for this.

"You knew, didn't you?"

Mike chuckled. "Of course. You two need each other. Now you're hooked and won't be cutting off your nose because of spite."

John looked back at Mike tempted to argue for a moment but Mike had a good point. After all, werewolves only had one mate.

"I owe you one, Mike. "

Mike just grinned. "Just invite me to the wedding."

John felt lighter than he had in quite a while. His wolf was feeling quite content, they had to head back for the last time to the small bedsit to pack before starting his new life. It took all of half an hour to pack all of his things, save for the laptop. It all fit in a duffel bag and a box. His gun and RAMC mug careful wrapped. John would be sleeping as a wolf once again, so no need for his sheets and pillow. He could use a good night's sleep. The wolf was about here and now. The wolf cared little for the past unless it affects the present. It was done with. The nightmares didn't affect the wolf the same way they did John. The rest of the afternoon and evening was spent trying to find out any and everything about his mate.

"The science of deduction. Interesting title. " John spoke aloud to the empty room.

John read for a bit. It all sounded a bit strange. Shaking his head at the oddity, he shut his laptop down and packed it. Taking off his clothes- they didn't like the feel of the collar while they slept- and put the dirty clothes in a plastic bag before he shifted. His bones cracked and popped, his skin tore as his body forced itself into a new form. Fur erupted from his skin; covering his body. They shook the remaining pain away after being used to it. To fully shift usually took him five to seven minutes. On average, a werewolf takes about ten to fifteen minutes, but they had practiced shifting in a hurry after joining the army. It didn't do them much good to be fast healers if they left themselves open and vulnerable for too long.

The next morning, John grabbed his things and turned the keys over with reluctance, not because he enjoyed living there, but because he would have no back-up in store incase this went horribly wrong. But the wolf trusted that things would work out. After all, Sherlock was their mate.

He spent the afternoon at Regents Park, scoping the place out. He could only smell one other werewolf but it was very faint. This would make for a great spot on the three nights he had to spend as a wolf- lots of space to roam, things sniff, maybe a few rabbits and birds to hunt. He left for Baker Street early, he needed to scan out the place first; check all exits and sniff for any potential threats. There was a Speedy's next door and a fire escape out the back.

Only non-human he could smell was a minor fae. They smelled of earth and dirt, of dying leaves, of gingerbread. It reminded John of autumn: of crisp leaves of gold and red, of warm cozy fires, and soft blankets. John watched the cab pull up with Sherlock inside. The wolf wanted to bask in his presence. Their mate.

"Ah, you're here already. Good." Sherlock spoke in his deep voice. John watched as his eyes took in the duffle bag, box, and dry cleaners bag that held his dress uniform in.

"This is a prime spot isn't it? Must be expensive." John was starting to doubt this would work out.
"The landlady, Ms. Hudson, gives me a deal, owes me a favor. A few years back, her husband got himself sentenced to death. I was able to help out."

"So you stopped it?"

"Oh, no. I ensured it."

John was a bit surprised. It was, to say the least, unexpected.

"Shall we?" Sherlock gestured to the door.

"Oh, yes, let's." Sherlock knocked on the door.