A Window's Lament [bhu; aw] }{ johnlock

[I L Y I C H]

This was vital. Vital to an extreme that had me pacing about, almost frantic for the last month. A month. I couldn't last a single month without my soldier. My doctor. It was odd to an extreme that confounded even my ragging mind. Lost to the outside, unnoticed until the damage was being done. My life before had been fine. Not happy, but not unhappy either. The sudden realization that it had in fact been a hell was not welcomed in the slightest. Deduction existed in both forms. Boredom did too, so what was the difference? Oh I knew what it was. The glaring truth was obvious, but so very pedestrian. One man changed everything? And thus I found myself here, hovering at the edge of Zonta land. Contemplating. My mind whirred along, train on it's tracks blazing through turns far too fast for it's own good.

Before John I had been far crueler. Mycroft could attest to that. It still remained that without the shorter man's presence I was in fact a tad colder. But still. John was upset when I 'attacked' people with my words. He didn't like to see people, even cruel people, torn apart. It made him disappointed. So I took to it less. Ignored them more and focused on his kindness instead. With that gone I had resorted to just living in monotone. Ignoring everything but that which I was observing. I needed something to work on. A political assasination plot would be nice, but I highly doubted anyone's ability to get to my Fuhrer. Now that was interesting I supposed. This entire time I had turned my observations inward. It was a rather disgusting annoying subject.

To be avoided. I would already have to explain myself to John. I did not wish to go over my findings with myself twice if I did not have to. So here I stood, waiting. The plan was set up and perfected already. Coated in dust and with a limp I had given myself for this purpose I stood meekly on the edge of Zonta territory. I'd flung myself into a ditch at a rather high velocity. Explaining shortly to Montego that I needed to speak to one in Zonta. She'd seemed approving of my plan, not that it truly mattered, but at least it meant there was some intelligence in the world. Even if it did all seem to reside in Ende. So here I stood. Hobbling weakly along and keeping a carefully built up state of terror on my face.

And she came right on time. Right on time. What a good little girl. The leopard was jogging along her route as she had for all the days before. Prompt. A good trait for the normal world, I supposed, but not entirely interesting. She seemed more distracted this time around though. A recent argument. She was sicker. The cancer worsening in the state of stress rippling through Zonta. She had two years at most. Most likely less. My eyes widened, face crumpling into pain as I hobbled swiftly forward rather glad that the deeper scrapes and cuts were still bleeding a tiny bit. "Excuse me? um- Excuse me?" her head lashed around, blue eyes locked on me. Her stride stilled and turned. Brilliant. Shuddering I stayed where I was, looking around like the good actor I was. Playing at not wanting to step over the border. She asked what was wrong. Strained tone. I smelled of Ende of course. "I Don't know" the words spasmed out of my mouth, as I continued to look around furiously. The leopard's suspicion began to leak into concern.

"I- I dont know how long I was trapped there. I can't remember. I- can you help me?" An edge of hysteria began to work into my tones, crippling my voice and bringing my accent out fully. Her ears lashed back against her head and the tawny head gave a sharp jolt up and down. Zero, she offered that name. I nodded in response, too shaken to really respond or so I gave the impression of. A shoulder found mine. Leading me quickly away and straight towards the center. Towards the camp. My mind curled gleefully, half of it assessing the dying cat leading me along and wondering if she was simply too kind for her own good. The other half knowing I would se John soon and he would listen to me. He had to. But what if he didn't?

And it was in this way that I was lead limping honestly into Zonta's camp, tail dragging the ground and a real edge of panic creeping into my mask of fear. What if John didn't want to hear a word of it? it was quiet likely. Perfectly likely. My jaw clenched, whiskers slicked close to my face just as my ears remained tucked close. The wounds to my flesh stung in the rain. The limp was induced by a strained shoulder. perhaps the ankle as well. I was going to be yelled at either way, but one would hope he would be at least desecrate. This could get me killed. "Hold it, Vengrad! He was a prisoner not a pride member." I lashed my head sideways, having been for once in my life too deep in my own thoughts to be aware of the outside world. Another leopard approached. Not native. German. Soldierly. Mental health condition. His sister had brought him here but she had been here first. Zero nudged me with her nose edging my form into camp. It probably helped that I hadn't eaten in days. My ribs stuck out. My fur lay un-groomed and ruffled violently. I looked the part, at least. "Dr.Watson?!"

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

I held my breath as my tail tip flicked behind my bramble covering. My ears lay back as chocolate eyes peered through the woven twines. A rabbit foolish enough to wander just meters from a feline camp was being given a mercy by killing it. It's movements were rigid and one eye was badly swollen. His flesh could not be used for consumption, but the bile would be helpful in removing ticks. Mouse bile was the best, but it seemed most mice had drowned in their burrows, while rabbits had moved from underground warrens to bushes in order to avoid that same fate. So, though it was not the best option, it was what I had to work with and I would just have to take advantage of the resources available to me.

Moving in carefully, I took precaution even when I was sure this rabbit had little sense left to alert him of me even if I walked in at a regular pace. I concerned over how to kill him, knowing that if it was an infection running through his veins, a bite could prove a terrible fate for me, unavoidably swallowing tainted blood in the process. After watching him a moment more, I decided his bones were probably brittle and I could easily snap his neck before he even realized I was there. Waiting for his back to turn, I slithered in undetected and maneuvered my paws seamlessly on both sides of his skull and jerked. The beast fell limp in front of me.

Grabbing an ear, I began to drag the animal through the mud. It was only now I scented the air. Buffoon... Despite my agitation for his foolishness, I could not help a tinge of elated pleasure at scenting the jaguar so close. Though, upon closer examination of his scent strand, I could make out the tang of injury. Then my name was called by kind Zero. Simba would have to wait for his ticks to be removed. Zero's tone was calm, but I felt urgency prick my paws as I dropped the rabbit and pushed my way into camp. I met the female who addressed me, and saw him limping beside her. Without a word, I moved forward and sniffed the limb. Just a strained shoulder... The ankle looked a little swollen, too, but that seemed to be mostly bruising. I looked upwards and eyed the man furiously, though I carefully guarded my expression so only Sherlock would be able to see through it. This had been done on purpose. There was few open wounds, and only small ones at that, so it wasn't an attack. And I knew Sherlock was not so clumsy as to fall and be injured by accident.

Turning away from the duo, I headed towards a sheltering of tightly woven thorns. It was a small makeshift den Simba had helped me build to store and protect herbs that I managed to collect. “Thank you, Zero. I can handle him from here." I dismissed her with a wave of my tail, not looking at her as I thrust my head into the den's entrance. I was furious. This man was taking a huge risk by being here, reeking of Ende like he did. If Alphonse walked in from his patrol right now, it wouldn't matter that he was injured. Alphonse may be a great deal dumber than Sherlock, but he knew how to fight and he had brute strength on his side. I had to apply a remedy and shuffle this man out of here. Hopefully the pridecats would trust me with escorting him back to his territory on my own. This way we could at least go to central lands, or somewhere Alphonse wouldn't be able to hurt Sherlock. In addition to this anger, I was also upset he had hurt himself. He was reckless enough without having to add self-injury to my worries.

The sweet smell of marigold wafted through my sences as I grabbed a pair of the yellow flowers and placed them beside my feet. I used a paw to swipe over a few poppy seeds, too. Marigold was typically used to bring down inflammation of stiff joints, but it could help edge away the slight swelling around the shoulder and ankle. Besides that, all I could really do was take the bite out of the pain with poppy seeds, and demand Sherlock keep a good eye on any of the open wounds, no matter how small. The marigold would help him fight against infection, but he may have to find and apply more if it should become infected in the healing process. I chewed the yellow leaves into a poultice, swiped it onto my paw, limped out and applied it roughly to the small cuts on the swollen areas, marched back to my supplies, cupped the five poppy seeds and threw them onto a rock slab besides Sherlock. Simba was sitting nearby, observing, still waiting for the mouse bile. I blinked apologetically in his direction and scampered over. “I will take care of the ticks shortly, Simba. Let me escort this Ende moron from our territory, first."

“Want me to joi--"

[/i]

“No, no, Simba. What you could do, however, is retrieve my rabbit I caught. It is just outside of the camp wall over there." I gestured in the direction I had entered in. “Drag him by the ear. He had an infection. I got him solely to extract bile to remove your ticks. Do not, by any means, let anyone get a single drop of blood into their mouth. I mean it." He dipped his head to my direction and headed off. Without looking at Sherlock to see if he had eaten the poppy seeds or intended to follow--I knew he would-- I marched through the main camp entrance, body stiff as I carefully guarded how angry I was.[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote][/size]

[I L Y I C H]

no you're thinking too fast
you're like marbles on glass

Handle him. My ears went back tighter. A mar in my mask. Not that they would notice. Morons. The word didn't hold quiet the venom I had meant it to. The woman left, her spotted face scrunching slightly before she turned away. My own face slipped straight from mildly frantic to emotionless in less then a second. No one else was watching, but a maneless lion waiting for his tick treatment. Couldn't he just apply his own bile? With everything that killed one would think these blasted animals could figure something out for themselves. This was my doctor. Why did they have my doctor. Teeth grating if only enough to provide me with some external release I stood slowly and followed after the retreating margay. He was angry, that much was obvious. Most likely because of the injury. His assumption being I had hurt myself just to come talk to him. Did he honestly think I would be willing to deal with a limp just for a chat? No. A mission was to be accomplished here. My possessive nature gave me no other alternative.

It wasn't simply possessiveness however. Pale blue eyes followed John's movements. Boring into everything in a way that would imply I was plotting something, or so I had been told. Silence remained tight in my form, even as I remained tense. John was important. Vitally important,. And he didn't know. It drove me mad. Made me furious with myself. How absolutely monstrous was I that this man couldn't see what was blatantly obvious? This whole act of 'sociopathy' was incredibly wrong. As a doctor and a soldier I had assumed Watson could see through it. Based off his reactions in the last few months I deduced I had been horribly wrong. Ice was a thing I had always buried in my words. Shields flung up. It was all Mycroft's doing, and I had assumed John knew that.

Assumed. It's a disgusting word really. There was no thought to it. Just a dismissal. Too much in my mind at any given time to truly pay attention and now I was paying the price. The point of these dammed masks was to protect me, and yet here they were pressing too tight to my maw. Suffocating. My eyes narrowed shortly. Waiting. With the mixture applied I remained still and silent, expression pooling into something a kin to hatred. Self hatred, indeed, but violence was creeping into me. He walked away, his small spotted frame marching out of the enemy camp with purpose. Command. And Mycroft thought it was I who was followed. Never the less my jaws had parted to take a verbal whip to the lion and were interrupted by John. With no such block now and my anger simmering to a breaking point I locked my eyes on 'Simba's' and curled my lip. He who took away my John's attentions.

"I see you missed that bird. Pity. Blundered right into that cactus didn't you? That accounting for the parasite under your tail." I cut my eyes down, back up again. "I take it they don't have that species where you are from. You expected spikes which is why you bent back to look at them. Regretting that now are we?" I sneered, turning slightly after John's retreating form. "It's to be expected." I added shortly, eyes cutting upwards in mild disgust. Honestly. That amount of stupidity should be enough to get a cat killed. Survival of the fittest and what not. Head low and tail tip twitching I skulked out after the doctor, shoving grass out of the way with ebony shoulders forcing my leg to cary my full weight despite the sting. I refused to look weak in front of these damn people a second longer. Why was I even here. John hadn't noticed and as much as that was my fault I couldn't help but feel frustration snap at the edges of everything. Why should he even listen? Or care for that matter.

My anger slipped into a quiet depression by the time I came to the other man's side. To the point where I remained slightly behind him in a manor that was rather out of character. Realizing this after a moment I lengthened my strides as they were meant to be. Moving faster then was perhaps necessary. Working up my courage, what little of it I actually had. Because oh there was a difference between courage and arrogance. This was not a matter nor a subject I held any amount of prestige and thus arrogance in. Never the less bluntness was my due and I shifted my eyes to peer at him. "I've missed you John."

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

My ears flicked back as Sherlock’s quiet voice carried from the camp. Perhaps most cats would have missed it, even those close by or in camp, but I was trained not only by man to be obnoxiously alert, but I was also trained by myself to never miss a word that curled by Sherlock’s hostile fangs. More so when he is speaking to others beside me. He had such a way with words--he could start a fight with anyone. He was right, however. I could not say it to my pridemate--or use that judging tone is more like it. Simba was a good cat, but not entirely the brightest. I would not scold Sherlock for the cold way he surely intimidated my pridemate. I would not even acknowledge it. I half expected to hear Simba call for help, thinking this Ende cat would attack him. But I merely heard the maneless lion agree shyly, voice hot in embarrassment. He was a peaceful cat, he would not start a fight due to pride. Sherlock could learn a thing or two from him.

We walked in silence as Sherlock caught up to me, limping but keeping pace with me due to my own shorter legs. My anger had died away by now, a few minutes having passed since his initial entering of the camp. I watched the terrain, scenting the air carefully. Any hint of Alphonse and I would have to make this moron run despite the injuries. Alphonse was a good cat, but he wasn’t ‘all there’. Sherlock wouldn’t have shock over killing a child to save him from Alphonse this time. This time, Sherlock would get the completely hopeless loathing towards Ende that the liger was known for. I was walking towards the Central Lands, and I could smell the strong tang of our border from where we were. We were close.

I felt his eyes carry over to me and then the words fell from his lips. My stomach tightened but I kept a straight face. Missing me doesn’t justify injury or foolishness. I kept the words to myself, knowing they would come off hotly as I tried desperately to mask over the childish pleasure his admittance had sprouted in my fluttering belly. Alphonse’s scent carried through the trees on the light breeze, the rain having turned into only a slight mist, thus not washing it away. We were at the border now, his scent was coming from the west. He would be walking along this section of the border within the next few minutes. I quickly maneuvered over it onto central lands and kept walking. As long as we kept walking we would be out of sight and smell range by the time the liger made it here, and he wouldn’t wander off his territory to follow the Ende scent.

“I missed you, too. But if Alphonse had found you on our land, I would have to miss you forever because you’d be dead.” I wanted to face this man and smile at him. I didn’t want it to always be like this--we see each other only every few months and it always starts off with me being cruel. But it was concern that put the icy blanket on my tone. I had killed a child last time I thought Sherlock was dead, next time I would probably hurt someone else, or get myself killed. But it isn’t about you, idiot. I was not a selfish cat, I had never been. We were a reasonable distance from the border now, trees and brush between it and us. I stopped and face him, expression rigid, but compassion poked through in my eyes. With it danced concern as a thought pushed forward. “Is everything okay in Ende? You wouldn’t risk getting slaughtered by Alphonse just to chat.” Oh, but I couldn’t help but selfishly wish he would. I would piss and moan every time he did, but inside I would hold nothing but euphoria for being worth it. I leaned forward and touched my nose to his. I knew the man did not want contact, but I craved it. This man here would always be my best friend, my only family. That was all the touch was, brother to brother, a sign that he could trust me with whatever made him foolishly travel on Zonta land. That wouldn’t explain the disapointment in my gut when I pulled away after only a small second of contact, but it was the story I was sticking to.

[I L Y I C H]

I gave a low snort to tell him exactly what I thought of that. John's supposed leader was an idiot of such proportions I could not even fathom. But there was obsession there, and desperation. Both were layered with uncertainty, and perhaps he was a little bit right to assume them to be dangerous. Not that I had ever truly cared about dangerous. Dangerous is what made things interesting. "If anything I would think I could out run the brute" Alphonse was a liger, and thus larger then me. But not faster. And not smarter. John liked to assume I wouldn't run away, which I found odd. He had seen me bolt right on past him more then once. I wasn't all together self-hating enough to want to die. At least not anymore. My mask was chipping. The smallest of genuine smiles curling the edge of my lips. How dearly I had missed his company. All it took was a few steps at his side and I was done for.

It was all rather jumbled, in my mind at least. Possessiveness and true affection colliding into something that I couldn't quiet get a grasp on. "Ende is fine." I mused, distracted. My eyes cut sideways, silver flickering almost playfully behind their normal edged front. "And aren't you the one always telling me I'd rather die then not have the last word?" Smile curving into a crooked smirk I turned my head back up towards the storm clouds for a moment, before glancing back down towards the margay. He shifted, one would assume for physical contact. A thing I would normally avoid at all costs, but alas I had caused enough trouble to justify sitting still for John's more normal needs.

Alas I had long ignored the instinct towards touch. It was a thing I did not like. A weakness. You don't let people touch you, because they are bound to be doing it for their own manipulative reasons. It was paranoia that made me manipulative, not true selfishness. Morals. Character. They were all apart of a social society that I didn't comprehend. Mycroft had called me autistic once, as a taunt, but as I had aged it seemed more and more likely. My hackles bristled at the mere thought of it. Of him. Turning my attention away from my oh so beloved brother I focused back on John, and on the warmth of his touch. Eyes narrowing slightly I leaned after the escaping warmth automatically, for once not fully thinking through the action. It ended with my much larger head pressed tight to John's striped fur. Hidden almost.

What the bloody hell was I doing.

Oh but that was a silly question, wasn't it? One I knew the answer to of course. John had such a nasty habit of walking straight through barriers I thought to be made of solid metal. Opening locked doors. Padding right past every little trap. All with that blasted harassed but mildly amused expression on his face. I stiffened, going still to the point of holding my breath. But I didn't move. Let the good doctor decide how he reacted to my transgression. Again. Like always. Dammit.

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

You can outrun and outsmart, but this is still his land and his pride will still take his side out of loyalty. I flicked my ear self-consciously with the thought. It was uncharacteristic of me to allow myself the weakness of such strong affection for a rival cat. I was a member of Zonta’s army now, and Sherlock was of the Ende militia. If we were to meet in battle, how could I stand true to my loyalties? I was a man of training, and every training said that your comrades are to remain first in every situation. But surely Sherlock would be the exception to this rule--or perhaps I was trying to justify what shouldn’t be justified. Truth was, I would never be wholly loyal to Zonta so long as Sherlock remained in Ende. For the first time in my life, I was conflicted as to which base camp to defend.

I gave a purr of mild amusement. I did often tell the brute that, now didn’t I? That did not mean I approved of it at all. One should be willing to sit down and shut up every once in a while. Of course, maybe it was Sherlock’s complete lack of care for my strict rules that attracted me to him so fiercely. Where I was order and predictable, the man was chaotic and spontaneous. We balanced each other out, and balance was something I held near and dear to my morals.

After I retrieved my touch, Sherlock leaned forward and brought his skull down to the earth to push into the side of my neck. From a comical viewpoint I should have laughed at the picture--my neck was not much more than a foot above the ground, making Sherlock have to bend his knees just to meet it with his skull. But I was too far into a mixture of shock and pleasure to be amused. After only a moment the man was tensed, but did not pull away. I could feel in uncertainty filling the air like static electricity. He had not meant to do this, yet it could not have been completely accidental. It was much too great of a maneuver for the contact to be purely unintended. Even if his thoughts had not caught up, his subconscious had told him an order and he had obeyed.

My own body keeping from tensing, not wanting to give Sherlock the impression of disapproval, I cringed my neck to place my cheek against the dark furs of the man’s forehead. I made a slow affectionate rub along it before pulling away from my brother. I gave him a half smile, not tense but more of a gentle tease. “I missed you, too.” No more talk about the moronic nature of his approach to getting to me on Zonta. No more serious ‘you could die and where would that lead me?’ talk. “If I could go to Ende, I would. But I killed one of them, and even if they somehow forgave me, I would never be able to look at that leopard that wailed in grief without feeling the guilt.” My eyes had dropped sorrowfully to the ground with my words, but I now carried them up to meet his. It was my turn to use him to prop me up. I moved forward and leaned into his chest, becoming sheltered beneath his skull from the rain. “I never realized how big you are. Or maybe how small I am.” I babbled it softly, voice having lost its soldier quality for the moment. I blinked once into his fur before sliding back out into the rain. I cleared my throat nervously, meeting the man’s eyes sternly.

“We can’t keep having secrets meetings, Sherlock.” I eyed him curiously, swallowing down the urge to just throw up my paws in defeat and saying I would follow him to Ende. I was riding the fence, more uncertain than all other times in my life combined. Perhaps if Sherlock just gave me one little breeze one way or the other, I would tumble to whichever side he suggested. I hated to admit how much influence this man had, but there was little I could do to deny it. I gave him the amused half smile once again, deciding to let this man pave my fate without letting him know he had the power to do so. His head was big enough already.

“What do you suggest, Professor?”

[I L Y I C H]

no you're thinking too fast
you're like marbles on glass

It was more then missing. It was agonizing over. It was not being able to think because my john wasn't there anymore. It was knowing that I had abandoned him for my own reasons. It was my thinking that if I could just get away from him he might realize that I was no good, and that I might be able to pretend that I was completely chuffed to be seated before him right now. My ears flicked back accompanied by the rustle of my hackles. A show of emotion that I hoped the rain hid, because it was completely out of character and John would surely notice. Forcing my ears back forward I settled, though I couldn't quiet bring my hackles down. "Orenda." I corrected him with the name automatically. One part one-up-manship ninety-nine parts feeling something close to empathy for the spotted woman. By the way she spoke of the cougar... she'd lost her John hadn't she?

Mind efficiently side tracked I choice not to consider the implications of that correction. It seemed odd, to have formed some awkward emotional attachment to that great bag of misfits; though I supposed that was a place for me. Orenda seemed to be getting better though. She'd attached her attentions to Verona recently. The bout of suicidal ideation in her step had vanished, at least. My ears tweaked slightly at the thought. Symphony had asked me about her three nights ago, just checking up he'd said. The white tiger had nodded careful at my assessment of her mental health and had 'instructed' me to continue keeping an eye on the woman. A task I was completely unsuited for, but then I picked up on things. I always had. So perhaps serving as messenger for the Fuhrer wasn't quiet as ill an idea as I had originally thought.

Breaking out of my thoughts I turned back to John, grey eyes hard in an effort to suppress the thickness in my throat that wanted so badly to just blather until John made the feelings make sense. He'd done it before. Made the confusion go away. My tail tip twitched, and I opened my mouth before he ducked into me and the only thing that came out was a weak puff of air. One heavy paw lifted, quivering and uncertain as how to respond. I wanted rather badly to crush him to me and refuse to let him go, but that seemed rather childish. Course of action completely indeterminable I stood there like an idiot until he back up and I settled my paw back down carefully. Uncertainly.

I hate this feeling. Sometimes I hate feeling, but then I think of Mycroft and a ripple runs up my spine. Caring is not an advantage, but it's not a character flaw either. Digging my claws into the muck unconsciously I looked up into the rain for a second, before hunkering my shoulders and looking back at John. "I know." Gray flint eyes narrowed slightly. "I could come back to Zonta with you. The leopard already thinks me to be a prisoner saved from Ende..." I went quiet for a long moment. Thinking. "And should we go back to Ende I think Montego would forgive. She and Symphony both very much want to meet you. I believe Montego made note of appreciating a solder's morals." Odd as it seemed. They did in fact have a shocking sense of moral. Perhaps that was why I enjoyed their presence so much. Not to the level of John, but more then normal people.

Balance.

But my mind refocused and I scooted down enough to lay my stomach in the mud, curling one paw around a rock that law close to it. There were many things I wanted to suggest. So many things. Slipping my claws free of their hiding places I began to tap irritably at the thing. Marking out phrases as I went. Questioning. Surely the good doctor had learned morse code as he went about his duties in the desert country.
'I hate this'. 'Why do we have to talk'. 'We get along fine without talking'. 'You know I can't talk' I felt I managed to force petulance into the tapping sound in someway or another. 'Its cruel making the autistic one do the talking' . I pulled a face and sat my shin on my other leg, folding into random tapping again, a grimace pulling up my lips. Melting random words in every now again. Wonder if he would be able to pick it out. Oh but that was a challenge, and my mind latched onto it and sent the order. Oh well. If he decided to sock me in the jaw and stalk off then I could always just go find Alphonse and tell him Noelle wanted him dead. I'd be gone pretty quick. 'love you'.

[Bhu ♥ Irwin]

There was something in the way he corrected me with the leopardess’ name that made me pause and consider. Sherlock had found a family of sorts, something to respect. Ears flinched backwards slightly as I contemplated. Ende was a thing threatened to children when they misbehave. I knew them only from nursery tales and what they had done to Eznox. Though, in some far crevice of my mind, I knew Eznox needed to be taken apart. In its butchering a better group had risen--a group that would one day aid in filling in the canyon humans have dug between feline and canine. Perhaps Sherlock had been allowed to see a different side of Ende--maybe they weren't the creepy crawlies hiding in the nests of rotten kittens, waiting for the chance to rip out their hearts and eat them while they still breathe. I trusted Sherlock’s judgment far more than I trusted the words of sour leaders that have been tormented and twisted by their own personal demons.

My gaze flickered to Sherlock’s paw for a split second after I pulled away from him, but I quickly masked over the fact that I had seen that paw lay back onto the ground. I would not betray knowing Sherlock had wanted to embrace me, for proving I knew could potentially fluster this poor man that was all too incapable of emotional displays. I need not further his discomfort as I watched him search fruitlessly for words to tell me exactly what was going through that heart of his. His answer did not suit me, for it left the decision up to me. Though, I suppose my mind had been made the moment Sherlock had spoken Orenda’s name in such a soft tone. I would not tear Sherlock from his family, but I also could not tear me from him. I would go to Ende with him and face these demons I had birthed in a moment of poor judgment. I will accept punishment, for nothing will make up for the young innocence I had stolen from both cougar and leopardess. I will follow you, Sherlock. My gaze was soft as I watched the man carefully.

My ears flicked by I provided no further acknowledgment when Sherlock began speaking in his silent tongue. I was not fluent in the language of Morse, but I knew well enough to translate the simple statements he was doing. Each claw tap was a message and my mind whirled to decipher without making my face fall away from the blank expression. I almost snorted at his rambling over his lack of voice, but I contained. Ah, I don’t know those final taps. I figured the ‘you’ but that other word was something beyond what I had picked up in my training. I let my mask fall away and I forced my questioning gaze to his, mouth slightly ajar as my brain scanned through the dictionary I had been taught. No, I could find no translation. No soldier in my sector had ever sent such a message by this language.

A flashback to a dying man spun in front of my eyes. His throat was butchered and his breathing was coming in ragged puffs, a savage sound as he fought for the remaining few seconds. My paws were warmed by the blood that oozed from the wound, but I felt chilled as I watched helplessly. This man was the one who had trained me in the art of medicine, and here I could do nothing for him. His wife, another doctor in our camp, knelt beside him. He tapped out a short sentence with the pencil that had fallen with him in the explosion. With tear stained eyes, the wife had responded with a whispered ‘I love you, too’ and gave him a final kiss before my master was dismissed from his duties, permanently.

Sherlock’s Morse message was admitting love for me...holy shit.

Eyes widening I couldn’t help but stare in surprise for a few seconds in silence. My heart beat slowly, calmly, as a wave of relief washed through my bones. Relief that the lies could end here. “I love you, too, Sherlock Holmes.” Whispered, falling softly with the rain. I moved forward once more and closed my eyes as I touched my nose to his, easily done now that he laid on his stomach. “And I will join you in Ende.”

[I L Y I C H]

no you're thinking too fast
you're like marbles on glass

My face remained tipped away, claw scratching idly at rock now. Waiting. Stiff and silent. What other way had I ever reacted to any sort of emotional display? Let alone the ultimate for of... of what ever this was. It was important, I knew that at least. Important to him, even if he took it in a way I did not mean. We were brothers, yes, but I was beginning to be under the impression we were quite a bit more then that. More important then friends. Partners, yes. Maybe more. I didn't no the term. John probably would, but then only if he caught my meaning. Was willing to look past my layers. No one else had ever been willing to try. Been willing to see. Half of me expected the smaller man to chortle and call me brother all over again. Expected it and feared it and loathed it all in one violent tangle.

I stared at my toes, face carefully blank. Silent, but screaming on the inside. John wasn't normal. He wasn't normal people. He was fantastic and brilliant and every other adjective he would ever attach to me aloud. But that didn't make him a willing recipient of my affections. At least outside of our... partnership? Is that what it was? Oh dear lord, this was frustrating and infuriating in equal measure. When he spoke my ears went back sharply in preparation. Denial was a beautiful thing. Maybe I could claim I was just toying with it. What reason would I have for knowing morse code? The back up plans rolled through my like a tide, before I could actually concentrate on what the man was saying. The truth of the matter. The black curves of my ears lifted carefully, eyes turning just enough to peer through their corners at the margay.

Uncertainty quivered through me, and for once it betrayed itself far too easily in the ripple of my black spotted pelt. My head lifted slightly with his touch, my uncertainty beginning to fall behind a level of affection that I had been forcing back for far too long. Worrying constantly. Worrying that this man wouldn't feel such things for another man. Fearing I didn't have the right body for this, but then. Maybe love was transient. Maybe I was being a bit forward, but then he should expect that of me by now. My lips curved upwards just slightly, pale blue eyes narrowing as I ducked under the smaller man's chin settling my chin far too happily across John's shoulders. Pulling him to me. Pulling him closer. One of my strong limbs reaching out to tuck him against my chest. Possessive, perhaps. Making up for avoiding touching him for far too long. I settled silently, huffing a breath into his fur and going still.