A twig broke into two pieces under one of his paws, the sound made the hairs on his back straight up and he shivered slightly in anticipation. He quietly went down to the moss-covered ground to hide; the damp cold making its way through his thick fur. It seemed like his prey hadn't noticed the broken twig as it walked with graceful steps ahead of him, completely unaware of his presence. He picked up the pace, getting closer to the prey by each heartbeat. Suddenly the prey let out a loud gasp when the hunter came down at it, plunging it harshly against the ground. The prey shrieked loudly when the hunter's sharp teeth gnawed through its soft and vulnerable skin, metallic taste filled the hunter's mouth and he just wanted more of it, the taste of blood driving him into frenzy.

"Where did Tim go?" asked a newly awake John. He sleepily rubbed his eyes and yawned. He had been asleep the past two hours while Sherlock had constantly walked through the forest with John on his back. His body was weary but they hadn't come as far as he had hoped they would. Timothy had been slowing them down frequently, he had whined about several things; the air was too cold, his feet were hurting, he was hungry. Sherlock knew his son meant no harm but it was a bit tiring even though Sherlock's patience had become far greater now than it had been just a couple of years ago. When Timothy had complained that he was thirsty for the fifteenth time, Sherlock had let him wander off a bit to a stream not too far from where they were walking. He hoped the boy would come back quenched and with a brighter mood.

"He complained so much that he was thirsty, so I let him go away not too far from here to drink", Sherlock replied from his mind to John's while walking slowly, waiting for Tim to come back. Sherlock could smell the sudden raging anger coming from John's body. It sent small heat waves by John's body into Sherlock's thick fur.

"Sherlock have you gone COMPLETELY mad? We don't know what lurks around here!" John's voice was shrill through the forest, it echoed loudly between the looming trees.

"Darling can you pipe it down?" Sherlock hissed into John's head, the anger fuming from John toned down a bit and Sherlock felt John's body relaxing little. "I don't think there are any dangerous creatures here in the woods, if there was, I would of course not let our son walk away on his own!"

John just sighed whilst shaking his head, not believing how Sherlock could do such a thing even though there weren't any dangerous creatures running around. He would never do something like that, the very least leave the boy alone! He carefully slid down from Sherlock's large back and stretched his body when he had reached the ground.

"I'll go look for him", John snarled and walked away with angry steps towards what he thought was the right direction. Sherlock hurried along to John's side and nudged his shoulder carefully; looking at him with the sweetest eye he could manage.

"You're not angry with me, are you?"

John just growled as an answer and continued walking, ignoring his body's wild protests. Astrid came running after them with fear shining in her eyes. Sherlock's ears twitched and he stared at her, deducing what she was about to tell him.

"Tim is in danger!" The werewolf pushed John back on his back and started sprinting towards the place Astrid had shown him through her mind. Sherlock's heart raced in his chest, the sound and the sight of his son hurt and bleeding was something he never wanted to see nor experience. Since his resurrection, he had promised himself that harm should never come John's or his children's way, though it seemed it was unavoidable. He let them down over and over again. Sherlock cursed himself greatly before picking up the pace; soon he would be there, protecting his son from harm's way. The scene that met them was horrible. Anderson was standing over a pale-faced Timothy; the werewolf's paws were firmly pressed against the boy's chest. A small arm was between the wolf's jaws and he chewed loudly on it. Blood poured out of the stump that was left of the arm, Timothy was desperately trying to stop the blood with his hand. Astrid was about to rush in and attack Anderson but Sherlock stopped her with a loud howl in the last minute. She protested wildly only to obey when Sherlock showed his authority by baring his teeth and growling. He quickly forced John and Astrid to safety behind a tree before he crept on the maniac that had been his dear friend for so many years. Small bits of bones flew out of Anderson's mouth when he chewed, he swallowed the last piece of the arm and then turned his gaze to Sherlock whilst licking his blood stained mouth.

"Well hello there Sherlock", his voice was nothing of the voice Sherlock knew. It was like Moriarty's madness had taken a manic grip over him. His eyes glinted madly in the light from the moon when he stared at Sherlock. Anderson whipped with his tail and started going around in a circle around the dark brown wolf. Sherlock followed each step with a firm eye, never letting the brown wolf out of sight.

"Your son really has good tasting meat. You should try it yourself", Anderson sneered.

Sherlock let out an intimidating snarl and bared his teeth; his ears were flat against the back of his head. Anderson laughed inside his mind, suddenly changing direction.

"What happened with you Anderson?" Sherlock asked calmly while carefully reaching out for Timothy's mind but no success in finding it. Anderson noticed his desperate search and prowled towards the detective. He lunged at Sherlock, an exploding pain erupting through Sherlock's head when he crashed at the ground. Anderson pushed him harshly to the ground and aimed for his throat with his teeth which Sherlock avoided quickly by kicking Anderson in his abdomen. Anderson whined and jumped off Sherlock, growling furiously, trying to attack the detective again. Sherlock avoided the attack and pounced on him, having the advantage this time. He aimed for Anderson's throat and gnawed his way through the massively thick layer of fur and bit through the delicate skin. Hot blood filled his mouth, he just wanted to spit it out but he had to protect his family from this madness. Anderson managed to squirm his way out of Sherlock's firm bite, losing a bit of his throat in the process. The two werewolves fought harshly without any end, blood stained their fur and the ground, and nothing seemed to be able to end the horrible fight between them. John clutched Astrid tightly to him while watching the fight between the two friends, tears stained his cheeks and panic-stricken worry threatened to make him throw up but he had to stay strong for all of them. Sherlock was fighting a fight between life and death, his wounds only getting worse by each second that passed. John wished he could transform and help him instead of just sitting here doing nothing. He knew he would be killed if he got between the two werewolves as a human but as a wolf he would have been able to make a difference. He hated that he couldn't do anything to protect his family. Astrid was shaking in his lap; her wolf body seemed so small compared to the giants in front of them fighting each other. John closed his eyes and wished the fight would end soon. A sudden howl erupted through the furious snarls and opened John's eyes; a small wolf with black fur was suddenly between the larger wolves. His green eyes were eyeing them both before he jumped at Anderson with bared teeth and took him by surprise. The black wolf drilled his sharp teeth through the wound Sherlock had caused before and Anderson's death was upon him when his throat was ripped off with a slurping sound. He flopped down to the ground with a thud, his body lying there, limp and motionless. John hurried to the three wolves with Astrid running next to him; he sat down beside Sherlock's shaking body and put his head in his lap. The black wolf sunk down next to Sherlock and John noticed it only had three legs. The wolf was Timothy, he had finally transformed! Sherlock reverted back to human, he was bleeding heavily from a wound on his chest and had several small scratched across his body though his round stomach seemed okay. His breathing was laboured when he watched John taking care of his wounds with a pad made of leaves and moss. Astrid was busy taking care of Timothy's wounds. She had torn multiple leaves from the nearby ferns and tied them tightly around the stump that was left of Timothy's arm to hinder more blood loss. There was much she had learned about treating wounds and helping people from John when Sherlock had been away.

"You fought so well out there. You're young but still such a brilliant and brave warrior. I'm so proud of you Timothy. Thank you for saving my life", Tim gave Sherlock a blissful gaze when he heard his father's voice inside his head. Sherlock just smiled back at him and winked with his right eye.

"You will be okay, I promise", John whispered quietly when he had bandaged Sherlock as good as he could with the materials available. He stroked Sherlock's forehead lightly and kissed his lips.

"I know I'll be okay. My body has already started healing", Sherlock replied coldly. John tried not to feel hurt by his harsh words but it was unavoidable.
"We must continue we can't stay here over the night. Donovan may come after us if she knew what Anderson was about to do. We'll have to mourn his death later", Sherlock's voice was weak but still firm. He rose from the ground with shaky movements and let the heat over his spine take over and transform him. John didn't want to continue travelling when a part of his family was so badly hurt but he knew Sherlock wouldn't give in that easily. He hesitantly climbed up on Sherlock's back with an exhausted Timothy sitting in front of him. The boy could barely keep his eyes open as they went to the place where they had left their package and then continued their journey even slower than before to the werewolf camp.