Hi Folks!

Surprise! I'm not dead. As requested: Sherlock solving a case as a wolf!

Enjoy!

"Alright Lestrade, what do you have for me now?" Sherlock asked brusquely as he stomped into the alleyway.

John followed closely behind and kept a careful eye on the detective. It had been a few months since Sherlock had let loose his wolfy side and the man had become more overbearing as the days went by. Honestly, it was like he still was offended when John had been startled by the change.

Then again, he may or may not have screamed like a girl and jumped off the bed.

On the other hand, Sherlock should have realized that John did NOT want to receive oral sex from a dog. Wolf. Whatever.

It took them until this spell of constant human-ness to realize that Sherlock took on his wolf qualities in person form when he goes longer than 90 days without changing. Which, if John were being honest, had a very exciting effect on their sex life.

Of course, they were still having sex. Sherlock was annoyed, not numb from the waist down.

Returning his attention to the crime scene in front of them, John studied the area and knew immediately why the NSY was out of the depth. He surveyed the puddles of blood and clear sign of struggle. The victim had a strong will to survive as indicated by the turned over trash bins and the scattered bricks. Sherlock was instantly on top of it. "Clearly the attackers came at the victim from the back corner of the alley, judging by the direction of the bricks thrown. But why did he walk so far in the first place? Lestrade, what did Anderson do with the body?"

Lestrade rocked on his feet. "Yeah, there is no body."

Sherlock's eyes bulged. "What do you mean, there is no body? How can you rule this a homicide if there is no corpse? And don't try to tell me that you've made that conclusion based on the amount of blood here."

Lestrade could only frown. "It's an impossible amount of blood loss to survive."

Sherlock gestured wildly. "Look around! Blood is everywhere! We have evidence that the victim fought back and based off the half hazard aiming, there was more than one attacker. That makes three bodies, Lestrade, THREE! And you think this all came from the one victim?!"

John, tired of watching the two men bicker, stepped towards Sherlock. "Well, there is a way for you to find out."

Flexing his jaw, Sherlock refused to meet John's eye. "Here?"

John nodded. "Here. You can sniff out the scents to get a better idea of how many people contributed to this mess."

"That's fantastic to know, John. You'd much rather I change out in the open for Grant to spot us, yet you're appalled when I do it in the comfort of my own home."

"Are you kidding me?" John's hands balled into fists as he tried to maintain his composure. "How the fuck was I supposed react when I close my eyes because the sight of my boyfriend sucking me off was too hot only to open them back up to see a dog instead."

"Wolf."

"Whatever!" John shouted. He paused before continuing in a calm(er) tone. "I don't mind it when you change, Sherlock. But it can't be when we're being intimate. I'm never going to want to have sex with you when you're in wolf form. You knew this. And it's Greg, Sherlock, not Grant"

"I don't care what his real name is, John. We weren't even discussing him." He glanced over to the DI. Big mistake. Lestrade instantly knew Sherlock was about to talk about something interesting. He figured he only had a few more moments of privacy. "I can't help it. Sometimes I turn when I'm focused on other things."

Sherlock glared at Lestrade, who was trying to eavesdrop. He and the rest of Scotland Yard had a pool going on whether Sherlock and John were finally buggering. Lestrade just needed proof. Everyone else either thought they started immediately or were still circling the topic. Recognizing a foolproof way for Lestrade to stay in the dark about his supernatural secret, Sherlock looked back to John. "You'll need to distract Lestrade, but first, can you promise to do something for me when we get back to the flat?"

John smiled. "I won't agree to a thing unless I know what it is."

Blushing slightly, Sherlock mumbled. "Could you rub my belly? When I'm in wolf form, that is. You know all the good places to reach." He waited until John nodded before smiling genuinely. "I look forward to it. Now, for a topic of conversation."

John looked confused. "What are you talking abo—mph!"

His words were cut short as Sherlock kissed him. It was far from perfunctory and was over entirely too soon. Sherlock stepped back. Lestrade gaped at the two. Mission accomplished. Sherlock thought before winking at John. "Now Lestrade will be entirely too focused on getting answers out of you to bother with keeping an eye on me. Off you go, then."

Sherlock lightly pushed John towards Lestrade and tucked behind a dumpster. John could hear the light sound of Sherlock's zip and hurried to distract Greg. Fortunately, the DI was too busy calculating his winnings to notice. "So, you and Sherlock?"

John shrugged. "Me and Sherlock."

"How long?"

"A few months now. Look, Greg, I'd appreciate if you kept this to yourself for the time being." John glanced back and noticed the wolf beginning to sniff at the blood. He pretended to nervously pace in the opposite direction to get Lestrade to turn his back to what was happening about 3 meters from him. "It's just that we're still figuring things out. Sherlock is, well, Sherlock. I don't know how he would react if Anderson and Donovan were to comment."

Lestrade nodded sagely. Fortunately for him, neither of the two wanted in on the bet. "I can assure you that both will never know." John smiled in relief. "So how does this whole relationship work? With Sherlock being a werewolf and all."

John could only stand speechless for the moment, his jaw dropping. He knew? While he rapidly thought about how he should react, Lestrade misjudged John's paled face and shocked expression. "Shit, sorry mate. I thought you knew about that. Christ, Mycroft is going to make me regret ever being born."

"No, no, it's fine." John started. "I've known since that first day. But why did Mycroft tell you?"

Lestrade shifted uncomfortably. He never liked having his back to Wolf Sherlock. "He thought there were some cases, like this one, where the heightened senses would help. Mycroft knew that I would never let Sherlock examine the scenes alone but also predicted that he would never let me see him in any other form than his human side. Therefore, I pretend to take a call or scold Anderson so Sherlock has the privacy to change. Is he done yet?"

John glanced back. Sherlock had made his way across the entire scene. There was a displeasure written all over his canine face. "Nearly. I don't think you'll like the answer, though."

Groaning, Lestrade massaged his temples. "Don't tell me that I came all the way out here to investigate a pub brawl. That is definitely not my division."

By this time, Sherlock started to retrace his steps. His eyes were dancing over the area as if he were recreating the events. "Well, something has piqued his interest."

A chime rang out from Lestrade's mobile. He glanced at the screen. "Shit." He muttered. "Forensics is on their way. Sherlock needs to change back. Now."

John whistled at Sherlock. No response. He rolled his eyes. "Sherlock, you might want to finish up. We've got company coming."

Still nothing. Lestrade was beginning to worry. Then an idea flashed in his mind. An evil one. One that John would face repercussions for. But an idea that would ensure immediate results. Lestrade stepped closer to John and bend slightly so that his mouth was centimeters from the doctor's ear. "Just follow my lead."

John swallowed nervously as he felt Lestrade run a hand down his arm. He nearly shoved the DI away when the sensation of a nose and lips running through his hair had been added. Lestrade sighed. "I really hope this works, this is getting quite awkward."

Finally realizing what Greg was trying to do, John laughed and relaxed. "You are such a shit." He whispered as he turned his head to meet Lestrade's eyes.

They held their gaze and tried not to burst out into laughter. "What is taking Sherlock so long? Your breath smells awful." John pondered.

"Sshh, he has to perfect his scarf. It has to hang just so." Lestrade replied.

Before John had a chance to visualize such a production, he was yanked back. Sherlock looked disheveled and quite pissed off. "Are you kidding me?" He hissed. "I told you to distract Lestrade, not stick your tongue down his throat!"

"Ah, Sherlock, finally." John stayed calm and light-hearted. "Anderson and his team are on their way. You seemed to be in a wolfy mind palace so we did what we knew would instantly get your attention, since, you know, trying to talk to you was clearly not working."

John eased out of Sherlock's grip as the implications of what was said sank in. "You mean to tell me that you deliberately got me jealous so I could change faster? You know I hate those feelings." He spat out the word like it was poisonous.

Feeling (slightly) bad, John wrapped his arm around his lover's hips. "Don't worry, sweetheart, I'll make it up to you later."

Sherlock relented and leaned into John's half-embrace. Lestrade had walked off, mostly to give them privacy, but also to greet the new arrivals. "You're mine, John."

"Yes."

"I'm still pissed off."

"I know."

"You're going to be sore for days."

John let out a breathy moan. "Good."

"You're still going to rub my stomach?" Sherlock's voice sounded hopeful.

"Absolutely."

"And maybe scratch behind my ears?"

"Of course, now tell Lestrade what you know so we can get out of here." John pulled Sherlock down the sidewalk.

As they approached the team, Sherlock straightened up and stepped further from John. "Don't bother with this one, Gavin. The blood is from a gang initiation."

Anderson scoffed. "Seriously? A gang initiation?"

Sneering back, Sherlock shot out. "Yes, Anderson. Ever heard of the term 'blood in, blood out'? A prospective gang member is beaten by the gang as a way to show he is serious about joining. Only in this situation, the victim's resolve collapsed and he began to defend themselves, hence the thrown bricks. Some of the members tried to stop, but others wanted him dead for changing his mind. Chaos broke out and members began to attack other members. If you were to do a simple test, you'll find the blood belongs to at least 15 different individuals. No murders, so no, Lestrade, this is not your division."

The duo quickly walked away, leaving a stupefied group behind. Sherlock could hear Anderson. "How could he get all that from just looking at the blood? Either he was there at the time or that man is not human."

Chuckling to himself, Sherlock stepped to the street to hail a cab. "Come along, John. You do have a lot to make up for."

John could only grin back. "I can't wait. And you really want your belly rubbed, don't you?"

"Well, no one does it quite like you."

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