Title: Temper, Temper
Fandom: Sherlock (BBC)
Rating: PG
Length: 804 words
Summary: Something unfortunate happens when John loses his temper

The change, when it happened, was sudden and completely unexpected.  One minute John could feel his temper rising and he was almost snarling in anger at Sherlock and Greg Lestrade who were with him at 221B Baker Street, and the next he was literally snarling at them and backing up into a corner as Greg pointed the spear, which had been leaning in the corner of the room, at him.

Then Mrs Hudson arrived, took one look at him and said, “I don’t know what that’s doing here, but I want it gone immediately!”

“Mrs Hudson,” Sherlock replied, “I can guarantee it won’t be here for long.”

She stomped out with an “I mean it, Sherlock!”

Fortunately, he could feel his anger subsiding, until suddenly he was still standing in the corner with Greg pointing a spear at his knees, and it all felt rather surreal.

“You can put the spear back now, Lestrade,” Sherlock said.

“What happened?” Greg demanded.  He replaced the spear but stood by it, his hand poised as if ready to grasp it again if it were needed.

“John just turned into something similar to a jackal, and then reverted,” Sherlock stated, rather as if it was a common occurrence.

“Has it happened before?”

“Not that I’ve seen, but there have been indications it might have happened when I wasn’t in the same room.”

“What caused it?”

“I think John probably has a better idea than I do,” Sherlock said.  He gave John a penetrating look, which he’d have preferred to ignore, but didn’t dare.

“When I was wounded, the first hospital I was in, there was a nurse – or at least I assumed she was a nurse – who I lost my temper with and called her some names I should never have used.”

“I thought nurses were used to patients in pain and drugged up who behaved irrationally,” Greg said.

“They are.  The thing is I didn’t have that excuse, and she knew it.  She muttered something and then told me that next time I let my temper take control of me I would become the animal I resembled.  I laughed at her and called her some further names.  Strangely, I never saw her again.”

“Maybe someone heard what she said and took her off your ward.”

John shook his head.  “No, I don’t think so.  I feel like she simply vanished.”

“What are we going to do about it?” Greg asked.

“Why do we need to do anything?” Sherlock replied.

“Because John is both in danger when he changes and a danger to others.  What if he’d been on his own when Mrs Hudson came in?”

“I rather imagine she can take care of herself.”

“Well, yes, that’s probably true, but even so…”

“Reluctant as I am to do so, I think we are going to have to contact Mycroft.  If anyone knows the best person to consult it will be him.”

“I don’t want anyone else knowing about this,” John objected.

“Mycroft can be trusted.  Which is rather more than you can be when your temper’s up!”

“Sorry, John,” Greg said.  “But Sherlock has a point.  You need help.”

He glowered but forced himself not to feel riled.

***

Three weeks later they were back together in 221B.  John collapsed into an armchair, feeling exhausted.

“How are things going?” Greg asked.

“Slowly,” he replied.  “However, Mycroft doesn’t seem to have given up yet.”

“He’s been hypnotised,” Sherlock said, “so he starts to fall asleep before he gets angry enough to transform.”

“Yes, by someone from the zoo!  And it’s not without its inconveniences.”

“A few days ago, Donovan had annoyed him, and he suddenly started to feel very tired,” Sherlock explained.  “But it was better than transforming in front of her.  Oh, and he bit the first professional he met.”

“So I’m told.  Fortunately, I don’t remember doing so.  I thought Mycroft would be cross, but he merely said the man brought it on himself.”  Greg tried hard not to laugh, but John spotted it.  “Go ahead and laugh.  Sherlock has.  And I agree falling asleep is better than biting someone who is accidentally in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I’m sorry, mate,” Greg said.

“Yeah, well, I’m looking at it as an extreme form of CBT.  Plus falling asleep has to be preferable to the anger management sessions which drove me into the pub.”

“Speaking of the pub, I brought a couple of cans of beer.  That is, if you’re allowed to drink.”

“Certainly.  To all intents and purposes, I remain human, just with unfortunate side effects.  So let’s enjoy a drink and forget about this for an evening.”

Greg passed a can over, and John relaxed, content to have a few hours with friends, and leaving his situation to Mycroft to continue working on.