Blood Fury - Part 22

John's POV
Mirrors. They mean different things to different people. Some say they are the reflection of your soul, that's why breaking them is such bad luck. I believe that. They can be both good and bad. But as I stared into the bathroom mirror, it was bad. My first time transforming would be something I would never forget.
I stared into the mirror, a familiar stranger staring back at me with golden skin, inhuman amber eyes and pointed incisors. The reflection pretended to be me, tried to be me, but it failed. It was just more inhuman. I swallowed down the lump in my throat. My mouth was so dry. My body was still hot and tingling from the transformation. The joints in my bones still ached when I moved them. My head still spun if I moved too quickly and suddenly. I knew Sherlock was waiting just outside of the locked bathroom door. I could smell him; the sweet unmistakable stench of vampire. After the change, my senses had heightened even more. I could hear him breathing, not that he needed to breathe. He said it helped him relax, to think clearly. When I returned from my change, my instincts kicked in. They told me he was a threat, danger, an enemy. That didn't last for long. I coughed. My body was still recovering from the change. Lestrade said it wouldn't be like this for the rest of my changes. Technically, it wasn't my first change into a wolf. Technically, it was my first change into a full werewolf.
Sherlock had forced me to go with Lestrade out into the forest to practice being a wolf. I had grumbled 'fine'. So we trekked out into the forest surrounding London. We went pretty deep, in a part that I'm sure many haven't ventured. It was amazing. An array of animals played around us as we walked through the dense forest. Lestrade was leading. He was carrying a large duffle bag over his shoulder. He didn't tell me what was inside. Eventually after what spent like hours of walking, we arrived at our destination, which was a small round clearing. I enjoyed it there. My sharp senses picked up all sorts of wonderful things; the chirping of birds, the smell of wildflowers, the taste of moisture in the air, the breeze brushing past my skin. Lestrade had let me enjoy it for bit. He enjoyed it too; leaning against a tree, sniffing the air and tilting his head to listen to the wildlife. He reminded me of a curious wolf.
"Okay, so, now what?" I asked after enjoying the mystical charm of nature. Lestrade pushed himself off the tree and moved so he was in front of me.
"Now we get you angry," he said.
"What?" I asked.
"Anger aids in transforming. It gets the blood pumping. Since it'll be your first time, it's gonna hurt," Lestrade answered, "and you'll rip your clothes."
"Is that's what's in the bag? Spare clothes?" I nodded towards the duffle bag which Lestrade had placed by the tree.
"Yeah, for both of us," Lestrade nodded, "Alright, let's do this."
"Okay," I said. I frowned. "I'm not really mad."
"Think angry thoughts, stuff you hate, things that just plain irritate you, bad experiences," Lestrade replied. Angry images flashed in my head. I indeed got madder, but it wasn't enough.
"Sorry," I shrugged. Lestrade frowned, thinking. Out of the blue he punched me square in the jaw. I let out a yelp and held my sore jaw. The punch itself was a surprise, yet alone the dog like yelp that had escaped my lungs.
"Ow!" I frowned at Lestrade.
"Hey, you asked for it mate," he shrugged. He punched me again, the cheek that time. He split the skin and I felt warm liquid trickled down my cheek. Damn, Lestrade can hit hard, I thought. I rubbed the wound. It really hurt. Lestrade threw another punch at me, but I was able to catch it and spin him around. I wasn't expecting him to spin out of my grip and punch me in the stomach. I clutched my gut. Lestrade had punched me so hard I swore I was going to throw up my insides. I heard him chuckle. It angered me. No way was I, a soldier, going to be beaten by him. I threw a punch at him, only for him to dodge it and punch me. I attacked him, throwing punches at him, most of them he dodged and ended up with him hitting me. I tried grabbing him, but he was too fast. A snarl erupted through my teeth.
"Stay still!" I growled. Lestrade chuckled. There was a flash of yellow in his eyes. I could see what he was doing. He was trying to make my wolf angry, trying to show himself as a threat. I played along with his game. My eyes flashed to yellow and I growled at him. I lunged at him, pinning him to the ground. He bit my neck and pushed me off. I yelped as he pushed me. Lestrade jumped up and laughed. I snarled at him again, jumping up and attacking him again. This went on for half an hour, biting and punching and dodging and snarling. But somehow I got Lestrade. My claws scratched across his face, leaving four claw marks carved into his skin, coloured in red. He snarled at me, amber fire burning in his eyes. I had pissed him off. His anger bounced off to me. My instincts considered him a threat, and he had to be taken out. Lestrade lowered his head and growled. He was certainly the more powerful dominant wolf. I could feel it. I copied him and lowered my head. A ferocious snarl came from my throat.
"Bring it," Lestrade said. Rage filled my body and I trembled. My hands were in fists and shaking violently. My instincts were screaming at me. Threat. Take him out. Protect self. Protect valuables. Sherlock popped up into my mind. It might have been my imagination, but I thought Lestrade picked up on that. A thought appeared in my head, a thought that wasn't my own but it had its affect nonetheless. Lestrade could hurt Sherlock. I couldn't let that happen. My heart pounded in my chest, my body temperature was going up and my whole body shook. The next thing I knew was a white hot pain going up and down my spine, letting out a loud cry and falling to the ground. My muscles ached and felt like they were being stretched and torn. My bones felt like they were breaking and mending themselves. My body shifted and moved, canines replacing my teeth, my mouth extending, my tailbone growing longer, me growing bigger, and fur sprouting out all over my body. Another stab of white hot pain sizzled up my spine and I collapsed to the ground, blacking out.

Coming to was a strange sensation. I felt…different. My head felt clearer and my senses had grown remarkably stronger. I opened my eyes. It felt like I had really opened my eyes for the first time. The world around me was beautiful. It took my breath away. I just stared around me, taking everything in. It was an amazing feeling.
"Bout time you got up."
The voice made me jump, but I relaxed when I recognised it. It was Lestrade's voice, but there was more power and dominance and something inhuman in it. I looked up to see a large well-built dark silver wolf staring back at me. I gasped and stumbled back. The wolf sighed.
"John, it is me," the wolf replied in Lestrade's new voice. I tilted my head and my ear twitched. Lestrade lowered himself to the ground, head first, but not in the fashion like before, a more peaceful way. The wolf's soul-piercing amber eyes were filled with concern. My ear twitched again. I understood what he was doing. Peace, he was making peace, showing he wasn't a threat. My alert instincts calmed down. I lowered my head the same way he did. It felt…natural. We both stood up.
"Lestrade," I said.
"Good, that's good," Lestrade replied, "You're thinking a bit human, that's good…"
"What?" I asked.
"Have a good look at yourself," Lestrade replied. I looked down at myself and gasped. I saw a wolf's body. Fur that couldn't decide if it was blonde or brown, much like my hair. My paws were more like hands, each finger with a long claw. I felt my tail, moved my ears, expected myself. I was a wolf. I real werewolf. Holy shit. I whined.
"Shit, I'm a wolf," I said, another whine escaping me.
"Congratulations," Lestrade replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes. He let me test out my new abilities around the clearing. I enjoyed running the most. I could dig and sniff around the place, which I enjoyed as well. But running was my favourite.
"This is amazing," I laughed, wagging my tail.
"At first yes. But wait till you howl," Lestrade smiled. It was astonishing with how human he looked in wolf form. I could recognise him as Lestrade.
"Howl?" I tilted my head.
"Every wolf has an individual howl, often depending on status in the pack," Lestrade grinned. He puffed himself up then let out a great howl. It was full of knowledge and pride and dominance and power. It was breathtaking. It was a howl of a leader. The urge to join him bellowed up inside me until I had to let it out. It wasn't as impressive as his. Mine sounded younger and lighter and light-hearted. Lestrade chuckled. I frowned at my howl. I was disappointed in myself. It felt amazing to howl, it felt right. I just wished my howl was more impressive.
And then something peculiar happened. I caught a whiff of something delicious. My ears perked up in the direction of the luscious smell and my nose went into overdrive. It was warm and fresh and smelt of meat. My stomach grumbled and a great hunger filled my whole body, yearning to taste the owner of the smell. My mouth watered and followed my nose. I heard a growl come from Lestrade. I swung my head around and growled back.
"Back off," I warned.
"You don't know how to hunt properly, you'll give your location away," Lestrade replied. I barked at him and ran towards the smell. I dodged through the trees, surprised by my new agility. I slowed as the smell became stronger, eventually ending up as a slow walk. I ducked down behind some shrubs when I saw where the smell was coming from. It was a young adult female deer nibbling on a small patch of grass. It was strange to see a dear so far away from the herd. I took it as a blessing. I crouched down, edging as close as I could to the deer. My instincts took over. That was until my stomach rumbled and my hunger ruled my head. I couldn't help it, I was starving. I jumped at the deer, startling it. It jumped up out the way just as I pounced at it. It didn't go far when a large wolf jumped out through the trees and ripped its throat out. Lestrade looked up at me, his lips stained with blood. He wiped them with his long tongue. I eyed off the dead dear, its throat ripped right open. I growled at Lestrade. He sighed.
"That was mine," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.
"I knew this would happen. You're not skilled enough to hunt yet John," Lestrade replied, "You might as well eat, need to fill your stomach up. It's easier to control your urges when you're full."
He stepped back from the corpse. I was hesitant, my ears twitched and my head tilted. But soon my stomach ruled my head and I padded over to the deer. I eyed off Lestrade, warning him about coming closer. He rolled his eyes and sighed. I was amazed at how human he was. He had so much control in himself. I had no control as I dug into the deer. The flesh was like a glorious explosion in my mouth. I yearned for more as my stomach grumbled. It felt good having the meat in my stomach. I dug in more, blood covering my face. The feeling of ripping at flesh felt good. It sizzled up and down my body. I felt strong and powerful and invincible and a true wolf.

I threw up into the sink. The dreaded memory didn't go so well. I could still feel the dear inside me, still feel the power I had felt, and it disgusted me. I threw up again. I swore I saw bits of fur floating around in the disappearing pool of yuck. The sight made me throw up again. I stared into the mirror, a horrible creature staring back. I didn't remember much after the feed. I remember waking up stark naked in the bathroom. I was still naked but less dirty than I was. The shower I had didn't help my tense muscles. As soon as I had stepped out of the shower I collapsed to the ground. I was so weak and my bones hurt so much. I had managed to prop myself up with the sink, only to throw up in it. I had been doing that for the last hour. I didn't know when Sherlock had appeared. Every now and again he asked if I was alright or if he could help in any way. He wouldn't be able to do anything, and he wouldn't be able do anything since I locked the door. I threw up again into the sink. I felt horrible. I hoped Lestrade was right about this being a onetime thing. I groaned at my pounding head. I heard an angry groan outside of the door and a banging sound. I looked up into the mirror to see behind me. Sherlock had bashed through the door, leaving it swinging open. He was beside me in a second, a comforting hand on my back.
"This probably looks incredibly attractive," I chuckled. Sherlock kissed me on the side of my head. My eyes moved to the corners, watching him. His bright eyes studied me. There was so much knowledge behind those blue eyes. He'd seen this all before with Lestrade, and probably before him. I could see years of learning and survival in his eyes. They were careful, thinking. He ran his hand through my hair. I was amazed with the amount of affection he showed towards me.
"It will pass John," he said.
"Yeah, hope so," I replied, only to throw up again. Sherlock scrunched up his nose. The vile substance smelt worse than it looked. It was made up of blood and fur and bile and things I wasn't too sure of. I gaged at the sight.
"I've seen worse," Sherlock said. I looked up at him.
"How could anything be worse than this shit?" I asked.
"Trust me, it can," Sherlock replied, leaning against the wall. He watched me the rest of the night, assisting me when I lost my balance, cleaning up my puke. I didn't know how long had passed when I passed out.