John led the way back to the car, taking a last look at the completely blood free sidewalk. Obviously there was more to her story than she claimed.
"What was that screaming?" Sherlock asked as soon as they got into the car.
"I'd like to know that for myself, and did you see all that meat in the fridge?" John asked.
"No." Sherlock muttered.
"Well there was like, a lot of meat, and she's a widow." John pointed out.
"You think she's the werewolf?" Sherlock asked.
"Possibly, but then again why would she kill her husband?" John asked.
"Not all marriages are happy." Sherlock shrugged.
"I'm not saying she is a werewolf, but there is definitely something fishy in this picture." John decided.
"So it wasn't the TV that made that sound?" Sherlock clarified.
"Definitely not." John agreed.
"Do you think she has her victims chained up or something?" Sherlock asked.
"Maybe, saved for when it's a full moon." John decided, turning on the engine and driving back into the town. "And you can't just hose away blood, at least not the amount of blood that kind of attack would cause. He had to have been killed somewhere else."
"This is scary John, what if she comes after us?" Sherlock asked, his voice shaking.
"Then she comes, we're ready, and she'll never be able to find where we're staying." John pointed out.
"But she's a werewolf; she'll have extra good senses. Like a wolf."
"No she won't that's not how it works." John laughed, rolling his eyes.
"Oh, well, I'm worried." Sherlock decided.
"The only thing on my mind is lunch right now." John muttered.
"Liar, the werewolf has to be on your mind." Sherlock debated.
"Well, two things are on my mind." John corrected. Sherlock nodded and continued looking out the window.
"Where do you want to eat?" John asked as they parked on the curb in the small town.
"No idea." Sherlock shrugged, and John agreed, he had no idea either. He honestly didn't know if there were any restaurants around. The two of them got out of the car and looked around; the town was basically deserted except for a couple of cars on the road. They walked along the sidewalk for a little while, past little shops and fancy restaurants that only looked fit for the dinner crowd. Finally they found a little sub shop, which actually had some people milling around in it.
"Looks good." John decided, craning his neck to see what people were eating. Sherlock nodded in agreement, and lead the way in. They got a seat in the back, and waited for like ten minutes before they realized that you had to order at the counter. Soon they had one Italian sub and one tuna sub in front of them, plus a family size bag of potato chips to share.
"Are you sure you're not a vegetarian?" John asked as Sherlock picked a pretty unattractive piece of soggy tomato off of the sandwich.
"I'm not a vegetarian; I just don't really like meat." Sherlock shrugged.
"That sounds like a vegetarian to me." John decided.
"I ate a hamburger on the ride over, remember?" Sherlock pointed out.
"Oh, ya." John muttered. He had forgotten all about the ride over.
"So what now?" Sherlock asked.
"Do some history checks on this place, go to the library, see how many other attacks were similar to this one, and then maybe we'll go snooping around in Mrs. Trevor's basement." John decided. Sherlock nodded, looking around cautiously.
"Do you think it's a human?" he asked.
"Probably." John agreed. Sherlock turned white, but he had an excited little smile on his face.
"And when we get there we're going to kill her right?" he clarified.
"Whoa, keep your voice down." John demanded, looking around nervously to make sure no one would overhear.
"Sorry, but, we will won't we?" Sherlock asked.
"Not if we're exactly sure it's her, I don't want to go knocking down the freshly painted door unless we know she's a wolf. I'm sure the thing in the basement will clarify." John decided. Sherlock nodded, looking kind of excited for an adventure. But John knew that inside he was absolutely terrified.
"You'll be fine, don't worry." John assured. Sherlock muttered something that John couldn't make out and returned to his sandwich. John didn't know if he should keep the conversation going, so he just took a bite of his sandwich as well. If Sherlock wanted to continue the conversation then he would, but he didn't say anything, so neither did John.

They went down to the library after lunch, which wasn't a far walk from the sub shop, so they didn't bother with the car. Sherlock was unusually quiet; obviously he was deep in thought about something.
"So, what are we looking for exactly?" Sherlock asked as they climbed up the stone staircases. John didn't know why libraries had stone staircases, or pillars, or why anyone bothered to make them look good and old in the first place. But it always gave the places a nice feeling, and no matter how dreadful the monster attacking the village was, the library was always a nice place to do the necessary research.
"Records of other corpses found without hearts, and then we could see if it's just a wolf or a pack of them." John decided.
"A pack? Like there's more than one?" Sherlock asked in a quivering voice.
"Possibly." John shrugged.
"How are we supposed to kill an entire pack?" Sherlock muttered, more to himself than to John.
"Same way we kill just one, with silver bullets and good aim." John pointed out, heaving the heavy library doors open. That's another thing about libraries; they have the heaviest doors in existence. Maybe it was for those book nerds to get a workout, trying to open and close the door every time, or maybe it's because the architect really didn't like book people, or the librarian wants to be able to get tips from people when she holds the door open, either way the doors were incredibly inconvenient. It took a lot of boring research to scroll through the piles of all of the dead bodies, but John noticed a pattern, of course. The only problem was that this was the only attack in the last 64 years.
"What's so special about 1951?" Sherlock asked, fingering through dusty newspapers to look at the stories. They were usually in the back, as not to scare children, but it seemed like every full moon there was an attack.
"I don't know, maybe it went dormant for a while?" John suggested.
"It must be ancient." Sherlock muttered. "If it's come out and started killing again."
"It might be multiple wolves as well." John pointed out.
"Well, Mrs. Trevor has to be over 64, maybe when she was a little girl she killed a lot of people, then faced the consequences and swore not to kill again? And maybe she really couldn't stand her husband so she decided she could probably get away with it if she framed a wolf?" Sherlock suggested.
"You're really getting the hang of this, aren't you Sherlock?" John asked with a laugh. Sherlock smiled shyly, but nodded in embarrassed agreement.
"So, maybe she accidentally killed someone close to her, someone she loved maybe, then tried to remarry, couldn't stand him, killed him, no one would suspect her, it's genius really." John decided.
"So she's our wolf?" Sherlock asked.
"Not certainly, but the odds are adding up. Tonight we'll go into the basement, see what's going on in there, then what ever it is might confirm." John decided. Sherlock nodded, stacking the newspapers back into the bins and putting them back on the shelves. John quickly cleared his search history, just in case the werewolf happened to stumble on people digging and put its guard up, and the two of them walked out of the library. John was in a much better mood now that they were onto something, it was all coming together, and with any luck they'd be out of town in two days.
"Fancy some dinner before we go chasing down a werewolf?" John asked, checking his watch. It was officially five o'clock, they had wasted away their entire afternoon in the library. Still, it took a lot quicker than it would have if John was alone. He had once been in the library from seven in the morning until ten at night, and still had found nothing. Of course, that was a ghost case, and it had just recently died, but at the time he was convinced it had been the ghost of a Civil War soldier. That entire case had been a train wreck really.
"I'm starving, yes. And I'll eat meat too, just to prove I'm not a vegetarian." Sherlock added. They walked down the street some more, trying to find a good place to eat, but in the end John walked them over to Arby's, which was on the corner, it would be fast and cheap, and that's what they needed right now.
"There's no vegan here." John pointed out, swinging the door open and brought Sherlock inside. They both ordered the signature roast beef sandwich and curly fries, and sat by the window to eat.
"You might not want to eat all of that yet; I don't want you throwing up." John pointed out as Sherlock took another large bite.
"Why would I throw up?" Sherlock asked.
"Fear, nerves, I don't know, I've never really worked with anyone before." John shrugged.
"You do all this alone?" Sherlock asked with shock.
"It's better to goof up and kill myself than get someone else killed." John pointed out.
"That's morbid." Sherlock decided.
"And no one wanted to go with me anyway. There are other hunters out there, but no one really works together in this world." John shrugged.
"What if you get trapped?" Sherlock asked.
"Then you better be prepared, because no one's coming to get you." John said with a laugh.
"That's a cheery thought." Sherlock muttered.
"But if you get trapped I'll get you out, don't worry, I won't let anything happen to you." John assured. "You don't even have to come if you don't want to."
"And let something happen to you? I think not." Sherlock said with a laugh.
"Like you'd rescue me. I'm almost positive you'll be sobbing in the corner."John guessed.
"At least you have high expectations for me." Sherlock said accusingly.
"Well sorry, but that's how you handled the demon."
"How was I supposed to act? There's nothing wrong with that, I had no idea what had happened, I didn't know what was inside me, I killed my own landlord." Sherlock muttered, setting down his sandwich as if he weren't hungry anymore."I'm a murderer. Do you think the cops will be after me?"
"No, they won't, and if they do come after you then I'd take the fall for it." John decided.
"Can't we just tell them the truth?" Sherlock asked.
"Then we'd be thrown in a mental institute." John pointed out.
"Oh." Sherlock sighed. "Life is hard for a hunter huh?"
"Someone's got to do it though, no job is easy." John pointed out.
"Alright then, let's get this over with then shall we?" Sherlock decided, wrapping the remainder of his dinner up in the foil and smiling at John.
"If you're so eager we could go, but I'd prefer to wait until darkness." John pointed out.
"What if she's home?" Sherlock asked.
"It's in the basement, there has to be a window or a storm door or something."John shrugged.
"Or we can demand to go inside her house." Sherlock suggested. "With the badge."
"Then she'll be extra careful not to disclose any information, she'll be alert. All we have to do is sneak in, poke around, and sneak out." John decided.
"Sounds fair enough." Sherlock shrugged.
"Alright then, let's go." John decided, throwing out the bags and wrappers and leading Sherlock out the door.