#warejohn

Sherlock had just built up the perfect rhythm when all of the sudden he felt pain run down his back, "John, something's wrong, my back," Sherlock grimaced pulling out and laying on his stomach on the other half of the bed. "What is it what's wrong?" John asked concerned, flipping on a light he saw his hands had started transforming into claws and that he'd scratched Sherlock rather badly, "oh god, is it a full moon tonight?" "Yes, why would that matter?" Sherlock asked. "Because I'm a werewolf!"