John woke that morning naturally, which was a nice change. Usually he's jumping out of bed to take care of something, to get on the road to make sure the hotel owners didn't kick him out for staying an unpaid night, or, the worst, a monster was knocking down his door. The room was still dark, so he assumed that everyone was still asleep, but as John woke up farther he didn't feel like going to sleep. So he got up, stretching out his now stiff muscles, and brushing his teeth in the darkness. There was no saying if this was toothpaste, sunscreen, or face wash at this point, but it did the job. John was just putting his toothbrush back when he heard the door open, and he froze. Once again he found himself defenseless, with nothing but toothpaste to defend himself. Was it the werewolf, coming to reclaim Victor? A chill went down John's spine as he peered into the darkness, but he didn't see anything. Slowly, stealthily, he crept out of the bathroom, moving his way towards what he thought was the attacker. He thought he could hear growling; maybe it was just his imagination, deep in his mind, but he thought he could hear it. There was a small tap of something, which pinpointed the location, John sprung at the attacker, pinning it to the wall with a growl of his own. There was a shriek, a very un-wolf like shriek, and he felt a thin body beneath his, completely helpless, and...curly hair. The lamp turned on behind them and John could see Sherlock, pinned to the wall, looking terrified.
"What's going on?" asked a groggy voice behind them, obviously the commotion had woken Victor.
"Honestly Sherlock, what do you think you're doing sneaking around in the dark?" John demanded, stepping away with a sigh. He was just about ready to pry his jaw off of his skull.
"I was getting coffee." Sherlock pointed out, looking to the table, where there were three cups of coffee sitting there, small streams of steam escaping poked holes in the top.
"Wait, what happened?" Victor asked again.
"Nothing, I thought Sherlock wasn't Sherlock, go back to sleep." John groaned.
"Too late now." Victor sighed, sitting up all the way with a groan. John took a cup of coffee with an apologetic smile.
"Thanks for the coffee though." He laughed. Sherlock smiled innocently for a moment before grabbing the other two and walking over to Victor's bed.
"I brought you a coffee, do you want it?" Sherlock asked in a soothing voice, like when you talk to a baby or a puppy. He was just too sweet to be hunting down werewolves and killing old ladies.
"Oh, thank you." Victor muttered. John looked over at the two, Sherlock was sitting on the edge of the bed and handing Victor, who had the most massive bedhead ever, his cup of coffee. Sherlock was sipping his own, which was undoubtedly too hot, because every sip he took he had to lap like a dog or something to avoid burning a hole through his mouth. Victor just laughed at him though, popping the lid off of his own and blowing on it a little to help it cool down. John smiled at the two, at least they were getting along, and sat on the end of the other bed by himself, sipping his coffee and staring at the wall, which was illuminated ever so slightly by the dim lamp light.
"So, what's the plan for today?" Sherlock asked.
"We need to make a plan, get our story straight, and maybe tomorrow night we can get this werewolf business over with." John decided.
"You're going to wait until tomorrow night to get rid of her? She could be halfway across the state by then." Victor pointed out.
"She won't leave unless she has you, right, you're her son." Sherlock pointed out.
"I'm nothing more than her next meal." Victor sighed. Sherlock frowned, as if he didn't like the truth that was evident in Victor's words.
"Do you think she'll come after you?" John asked, going back to business.
"Maybe." Victor muttered.
"Yes or no?"
"Yes." He muttered, terrified.
"Then we need to get her before she can get you." Sherlock insisted, looking at John hopefully.
"She won't be happy with you guys, now that her secret is leaked..." Victor mumbled.
"Let's get her tonight, it'll be fine, I don't even know if it's a full moon or not." Sherlock decided.
"We need to plan; we can't just run in there, guns blazing, it's suicide." John muttered.
"WE need a plan." Victor agreed.
"Um, no, not you sir. You'll stay here, where it's nice and safe." John pointed out.
"No, I want to come!" Victor defended.
"Absolutely not." Sherlock agreed.
"Sherlock you're a trainee yourself, but I'm not dragging two untrained, unexperienced rookies into the battle field. It might be better if I went by myself." John decided.
"No way, you promised you'd take me for one full run, to see if I like it..." Sherlock pointed out.
"We'll figure this out later, who's up for some breakfast?" John decided, interrupting Sherlock mid-sentence. Sherlock raised his hand shyly, and Victor cracked another one of those smiles. You feel like you need to frame them for some reason, he had perfect white teeth, even after being chained to the basement for so long, it was just weird how John, the Teenage Mutant Ninja Potato ended up saving the two beauty gods of the earth today. The only thing that topped Victor's smile was Sherlock's, and Sherlock's smile was just the utmost end of the world as John knew it.
"Breakfast sounds good." Victor agreed.
"Then let's get dressed, get out of this stuffy room." John decided, three people and no open windows, they'd probably all die of carbon dioxide.
"I forgot to change my bandage." Sherlock muttered, poking at his shoulder with a frown.
"What did you do?" Victor asked.
"Oh, just a little bit of wear and tear I suppose." Sherlock muttered. John noticed that he wouldn't tell Victor what actually happened, as if he were ashamed that he had been possessed or something. Or maybe he didn't want to expose Victor to the even weirder world. They all got up and dressed, John changed Sherlock's bandage, which was getting a lot better actually. Soon the cut would be only a scar, there wasn't even blood anymore.
"Do you need a change of clothes?" John heard Sherlock ask. John was brushing his hair in the mirror, trying to get a strand down that was being quite annoying. He used the mirror to watch the two of them, Sherlock was just buttoning his jacket up and Victor was standing semi awkwardly near the door, as if ready to run at any moment. But the boy nodded, trying to pat down his brown hair as Sherlock came progressively closer.
"I may be a bit taller than you, and honestly I don't have any clothes as well." Sherlock sighed. "Unless you want to wear my suit."
"Are we having a wardrobe malfunction?" John called, spinning around to see what the problem was.
"Do we have a change of clothes to provide Victor with?" Sherlock asked.
"Not that I know of, remember I was only packing for one." John pointed out. "You clothes look fine Victor." He added. And they did, really. His jeans were slightly ripped, but people like that, and he had a red tee shirt on, which was socially acceptable as well.
"Ya, you look fine." Sherlock assured.
"I could kill for a shower." Victor decided.
"After breakfast." John decided. "And thankfully it's free, comes with the room." he added with a smile. When Sherlock opened the door the fresh sunlight made all three of them shield their eyes and waddle around like blind seals. John thought it must be holy fire or something, because it certainly burned. Once his eyes adjusted though, John lead the small pack to where the breakfast was being served. There were a couple of people walking around and eating, John spotted an older couple who looked thrilled with the instant oatmeal and a family of four, with two screaming toddlers who wanted donuts. John rolled his eyes, but he had two crying kids with him as well. Sherlock and Victor immediately got in line for oatmeal, the two of them standing rather close together, as if they were scared a werewolf were going to jump through the window at any time and eat them. John grabbed a plate and just filled it with whatever he could, eggs, bacon, pancakes, all the crappiest food ever, but he was certainly happy for food just to be available. They all got a table in the back, with only three chairs, but it was a nice secluded spot for them.
"So, how long have you two known each other?" Victor asked through bites of oatmeal. He looked way too hungry to only eat oatmeal though, as if he were trying to be polite by not freaking out.
"Well, today would be the... fourth day?" Sherlock asked.
"Sounds about right." John agreed.
"Oh, not long at all then." Victor commented.
"No, not really." Sherlock muttered.
"You seem so close though, like you've known each other forever." Victor pointed out.
"Yes well, I suppose we've been through a lot in our time." John shrugged.
"I guess so. So you both hunt down werewolves?" Victor asked.
"I hunt everything, that's how we met, more or less." John shrugged.
"What's everything?" Victor asked.
"Werewolves, ghosts, shapeshifters, zombies, vampires, everything undead under the sun." John said with a little smile.
"Wait, there're all real?" Victor asked.
"Yes." John agreed. "I should know."
"He's a professional." Sherlock pointed out, kind of sounding like he was bragging about John's experienced life style.
"I guess you could say that." John muttered.
"So, how do you kill a werewolf?" Victor asked.
"Silver, through the heart." Sherlock said, piping into the conversation so that they thought he was an expert as well.
"She deserves it." Victor decided, stabbing into his oatmeal a bit aggressively. John looked at Sherlock uneasily, but his glare was cut off when he saw Sherlock smiling a little bit, as if he were trying to hide his happiness. Victor ate three more bowls of oatmeal and two full plates of everything else. By the time he was done eating probably half the food in the hotel was gone. John was quite annoyed as he kept getting up and up, but Sherlock seemed to enjoy it. Was there anything about those two that he was unaware of? Finally they were headed back to the room, and finally Victor seemed healthy. He was walking right alongside them, and except for the cut on his forehead he looked like he had never been locked in his own basement.

"That must have hit the spot." John guessed as they entered their room.

"I haven't eaten a full meal in months." Victor said happily.
"That's not a happy thought." Sherlock decided.
"You're right, it's not." Victor agreed. Sherlock was gazing up at him like he was some type of war hero, and Victor was looking very dramatic, as if he knew Sherlock was googling at him. Something at the bottom of John's stomach twisted with annoyance, as if Sherlock looking at someone else didn't agree with him. Did Sherlock used to look at him like that, like he was the coolest person to ever walk the earth because he fought monsters? Now all you had to do was get kidnapped by one and you're so much better. John wanted to slap himself in the face, what in the world was he thinking? He wasn't jealous of Victor, he had gone through a lot, and if Sherlock was happy then what was the point of getting upset over it? He was being childish and pathetic. John opened the room back up, letting all of them in and opening the curtains ever so slightly so it was nice and lit up in the room. Victor went right back to his bed, flopping down on it like a dead fish but looking happier than John had ever seen him. Apparently he liked being free and well fed.
"You might want to clean that cut out." Sherlock decided, looking at Victor's forehead.
"I suppose I should, who's the medic here?" Victor asked. Sherlock looked at John almost pleadingly, which John only laughed at.
"Sherlock can patch you up; I'm going to go digging more on your family." John decided with a slight smile. Sherlock was simply adorable, hopeful even. Both of the boys seemed happy with that answer, so Sherlock led Victor into the bathroom. John sat on the bed so he could monitor them from where they sat. Victor was sitting on the counter, but with Sherlock's height he was able to easily wipe disinfectant over the cut. John, true to his word, did some research on the Trevor family. For the most part they seemed normal, they made charity donations, they won basket raffles, helped with the local gardening club, there seemed to be nothing abnormal about them. The only thing that was abnormal was sitting on the hotel sink, staring into Sherlock's beautiful eyes almost longingly. John noticed he was clicking the mouse kind of aggressively as Sherlock rubbed a Band-Aid over the cut, his fingers brushing slightly over Victor's forehead, the two of them freezing a little bit, their eyes locking... Grrr...
"Well Victor, it doesn't look like you've ever existed." John decided as the two of them came out of the bathroom, a fresh bandage stuck over the cut.
"I told you already, they're embarrassed of me, they don't want me to have ever existed." Victor pointed out.
"Well, they did a good job." John agreed. He had searched everywhere for even a speck on a boy named Victor Trevor, but he didn't even see a birth certificate.
"They look downright normal though, you'd never guess she was a murderous werewolf." John said with slight amusement.
"You should get to know her. More like a witch than anything." Victor said, hissing slightly at the mention of his mother.
"How well did you know your mother?" John asked curiously.
"Hardly any. I just saw her when she sometimes came and threw scraps at my feet, but I knew her biggest secret." Victor sighed.
"And that was the werewolf?" Sherlock clarified. Victor nodded somberly.
"That's really brave, to still want to live on even though you know your own mother might eat you. I could never do that." Sherlock decided, sounding like he was talking to his brand new idol. John frowned; being locked up by a monster was nothing, how about having to kill the things? He couldn't wait to see Victor in the battlefield; hopefully he would break down crying and-wait, why did John even care? So what if Sherlock found him brave, he was brave, he was being such a baby about things. If Sherlock idolized Victor more so than him, then he had nothing wrong with that.
"Well, I guess I knew there had to be more to life than that basement. I knew that one day I'd get out, and here I am." Victor's blue eyes sparkled happily as he looked over at Sherlock, who smiled at the ground shyly. Only people without eyes would miss the tension between those two.
"So, what do you think the game plan should be for today?" John asked, shutting the laptop lid and sitting up farther on the bed.
"No idea, you're the boss here." Victor pointed out. Well good, because I was asking Sherlock.
"I think we should maybe spy on Mrs. Trevor, make sure she doesn't have anyone tied up in the basement again." Sherlock suggested.
"Why don't you just kill her?" Victor suggested.
"We can do both I suppose." John shrugged. That seemed to satisfy both of them.
"I can't wait for her to get her share of torture." Victor said, with almost an evil gleam in his eyes.
"Well still, I'd like to see the transformation for myself, have you actually seen your mother as a wolf?" John asked.
"Yes, once, when she murdered father in front of me."
"What exactly did she look like?" John asked.
"Do you doubt him?" Sherlock demanded, jumping immediately to Victor's aid. Sherlock looked more offended than Victor though, like he was jumping to conclusions.
"No, I'm just getting the facts straight, it's necessary..." John started.
"It's fine, it's a hard pill to swallow I know. But she was just like her, except she had these radiant yellow eyes, big fangs, and her fingernails were claws. It was horrible; I can still picture her..." Victor shuttered. Oh what a bloody hero.
"Okay, that's a werewolf, see, nothing to worry about." John assured.
"Wait, so they don't turn all the way, don't they like sprout fur and walk on four legs?" Sherlock asked, looking generally confused.
"Sherlock those are the myths, werewolves aren't actually wolves, vampires don't wear flowing capes and greased black hair." John pointed out. Sherlock looked scandalized.
"Oh." He muttered, like he had been lied to his whole life.