You both like johnlock, vamplock, and werelock.

Stranger: ((Werelock. Alpha/Top Sherlock, bottom John))

John and Sherlock had met in primary school, and had stuck together ever since then. John thought that Sherlock was brilliant and amazing, and even though John had other friends, he preferred to spend most of his time with Sherlock. They spent almost all of their time together (which was helped by the fact that they lived in the same block of houses) and when John was thirteen he realised that he was in love with Sherlock. Of course, he never told Sherlock, as he remembered how Sherlock used to always express his views on sentimentallity quite clearly, and how he thought love to be a fool's game. So, he loved Sherlock in silence. When John was sixteen, he started to change. His temper became quicker to flare, he became more protective of Sherlock and obeyed Sherlock more, as well as developing a craving for bloody meat. It worried him, and he'd spent nights at Sherlock's house, curled up around Sherlock and crying because he was scared. Sherlock had been surprisingly gentle and patient with him, soothing his concerns and telling him everything would be fine. A few months later, and he transformed into a werewolf for the first time. It was terrifying, and painful. This was something that he couldn't tell Sherlock, so he kept it a secret. He'd known that Sherlock had known he was hiding something from him, and his friend made it no secret that he was displeased by this, but he didn't pry.

John transformed whenever he had the chance, mainly at night away from prying eyes in the local forest near town. Not long after he started visiting there, he noticed that he was being watched and followed. He'd wanted to freak out, but his wolf instincts had been happy and calm in the presence of whoever it was. Occasionally, when he wandered too deep into the forest, a blur of black would cut him off and John would turn around instantly. If he got lost, there would be a black tail in front of him guiding the way home. He never got a good glimpse of the wolf - for it was clearly a wolf, and one taller than John at that. John had found himself daydreaming about that wolf. He loved Sherlock, of course he did, but there was no way that the wolf could be Sherlock, and John wanted to know who it was that was protecting him at night.

The full moon was the only that that John was forced to transform and John, nearly seventeen at this point, was determined to find out today who that wolf was. It could just be a random wolf, but it could also be a werewolf like John. John wanted to know. He /needed/ to know. So, after transforming in the woods, John made sure that the wolf was near, then sprinted into the deep part of the woods that he'd never explored, knowing that he would be stopped, and then John would get his answers. This time, he wouldn't turn back. This time, he would get a good look - and sniff - of this mysterious wolf his own instincts felt compelled to obey.

You: Sherlock had always known John's secret, mainly because it was the same secret he kept from everyone else. The other boy had been more fearful and uncertain, so he always made sure to look out for him. An alpha instinct, he presumed. Not to mention he cared deeply for John in a way which he never thought possible, even for him. It was a weakness he'd rather keep hidden. During this full moon, he also went into the forest, transformed as any other werewolf would, and went about searching for John's scent. He found the other wolf quickly, though John dashed off towards a deeper part of the forest. /Ah, this again/ Sherlock thought to himself before chasing after the smaller wolf, this time into a darker part of the wood.

You: (brb!)

Stranger: John was eager to know the identity of the wolf that kept him safe, and whilst he'd love to do it in a way that wouldn't possibly piss off the other wolf, he didn't know how to. Every other time he'd tried to approach the wolf, he'd failed. He'd either gotten distracted, or lost, or the other wolf had managed to somehow slip out of his grasp. It was frustrating, and only served to heighten John's curiousity. John was nervous, but excited at the same time. As he reached the point in the forest where he was normally cut off, John didn't slow as he normally would, instead barreling right through that invisible line. It made him feel slightly uneasy, but it was the only way he knew how to get the wolf to approach him instead of John trying (and failing) to approach the wolf. Even if it did probably mean John would get tackled.

You: Once he saw John get closer to the boundary he'd always guided him away from crossing, he sprinted harder. There were risks from going deeper in the woods on a night like this: hunters and packs. The first was obvious in why it should be avoided, but there was a chance John might get taken into a pack, and something selfish inside Sherlock wanted John all to himself. Not to mention other alphas might be cruel and may want to keep his friend away from the family he loved so dearly. He took a shortcut around the path John was treading on, and once he was a good distance ahead, started running directly towards him. They would collide, or John would turn and run back. Either one would be safer than letting the other wolf keep dashing off into oblivion.

Stranger: John had never been this far into the forest before - he'd always turned back at the other wolf's silent warning and respected the boundary that he set. He had no idea what could be out there, and he was incredibly curious. John wasn't all that worried though, as he was certain that his wolf guardian would protect him from whatever could be out there. And, John could defend himself, too, if it came down to it. The other wolf was so dark that John didn't see him at first. It was only the intense blue eyes that made John realise that the wolf was running right towards him. John skidded as he tried to stop suddenly, digging his paws into the dirt and ended up falling, rolling and slamming right into the other wolf with an undignified yelp from John. Lifting his head, John shook it, embarrassed that he'd tripped and fell into the other wolf. Way to make a good impression. Inhaling deeply and eagerly to try and identify the other wolf, John froze with shock as he recognised Sherlock's familiar and much-loved scent. What...?

You: Figures, they would end up as a pile of werewolf once that was said and done. Sherlock gracefully got back to his feet and shook out the dirt and pine needles that dirtied his dark coat, though he noticed John as already caught his scent. He figured he could only go so long without the other finding out it was him. He tried his best to keep these two lives separate, but at least John would know that he wasn't alone. In fact, he never really was. Sherlock looked back at John, then pointed his snout toward where they'd come from, as if motioning him to come along. They weren't far beyond the boundary, but the sooner they left, the better off they'd be.

Stranger: John was in awe of Sherlock's graceful movements, though Sherlock had always been more graceful than John. John stood, less gracefully than Sherlock, still stunned that it was Sherlock, and shook out his coat in a rough movement. He had so many questions for Sherlock. Like, why did he keep it a secret? Why did he never tell John it was him? Were there other werewolves? John had so many questions and so little answers, but he would have to wait until the moon's grip on them faded before he could ask Sherlock. John was shaken out of his awed trance as Sherlock motioned towards where they'd come from. John was curious as to why Sherlock was so determined to keep him out of this part of the woods, but Sherlock had never led him wrong before so John trusted him. John started walking back in that direction, buzzing with questions and unable to stop staring at Sherlock. He was as gorgeous as a wolf as he was a human.

Grrrrr I lost a couple great rps on omegle tonight!

I friggin' give up. I hereby declare this finished. I despise the wallpaper. And I got sloppy with Sherlock's chair and the bookshelves. But idgaf.

Also, I may have cheated a bit by making Sherlock even bigger than he's supposed to be... just a bit.

Fanart for Roughnight's The Dance of Wolves (chapter 3) from their series, The Prince and the Pauper.

 "John had both of his hands on his lap, the way he had shown them to Sherlock before the tall man bolted to the threshold of his room. Sherlock was massive enough that he was at John’s chest level when the latter was sitting and the former was on his four legs. The wolf drew so close that he crossed the doctor’s personal space. [...] The alpha pressed forward. John’s heart grew wild inside his chest when he felt the wolf’s warm flesh and thick fur firmly against the insides of his clothed thighs. The places where they touched, they felt burning hot. Sherlock felt so warm. [...] the younger Holmes blinked once before he dipped his snout lower and pressed it against John’s forearm without any warning. If John seemed hypnotized earlier, then he definitely no longer has a mind of his own at the present. His mind froze. The wolf greedily rubbed his nose against the leather of John’s jacket. When the doctor’s mind finally recovered, he belatedly recognized that it was the area that Sgt. Sally Donovan had touched earlier. John did not want to think about what it could possibly mean."

Omegle's decided to die on me and I've just got a new RP prompt if anyone is interested:

(were!lock) John had been a handler ever since he was 16 years old. Back then, the lycanthropes had only just been outed to the general populance and the world was a frantic mess trying to get new legislation sorted to make the humans feel safe again whilst keeping the werewolf packs happy. John had been too young to remember much of that time, but according to History lessons, the handler system was implemented a year later with the help of pack alphas to ensure that every lone werewolf had a human to keep them in control during their moon nights.

It would have been nice if the chosen Handlers had a choice, he thought to himself as he read the file of his most recent assignment. Handlers were chosen due to a little known gene that somehow made them exude pheremones that calmed an aggressive wolf. Everyone was tested at 16 for the trait and if selected, they were sent to a special school to be trained with little choice in the matter. John supposed they were paid decently for their service and even tended to get matched to wolves they would get along with - many handlers spent their entire life with the same wolf.

John wished he was so lucky. This would be his fifth wolf so far – more than most others seemed to have over an entire lifetime. The last one he lost – in Afghanistan, shot down whilst trying to drag him to safety after a sniper got him in the shoulder – would stay with him for a long time.

He sighed. Right – he had to get to his assignment. It would be an interesting one at least - file said they'd managed to make at least 6 handlers quit so far. He was probably the wolf's last shot before the area's alpha had to force him into the pack. Standing up and putting the file on the little desk the Institute had given him, he headed to get a taxi to first meet this Sherlock Holmes.

First meetings were supposed to take place in a neutral environment, preferably with an alpha or human official there to monitor the initial bonding but Sherlock had so far ignored any attempts for John to contact him. So John decided to go to him at 221b Bakers Street, being let in by a lovely lady called Mrs Hudson who offered him the key to the upstairs flat once she realised what he'd been sent for. So he limped up the stairs, cane held awkwardly in his hand as he let himself into the room (obviously the wolf's territory as it was very well scented). He coughed “Mr Holmes” he called.

Please feel free to email me at [email protected]

Werewolf AU

Some Were!lock