The trick with the placing of numberplates in the Palace of Westminster car park was not in the least bit humourous.

Refraining from such attempts again would more than likely be in your best interest.

*John has moved the tea and biscuits away from the sleeping form of Peter Mandelson and covered him with a blanket. He's kept the children at bay by sending them to bed early and has switched the sound off on the television, replaced by subtitles. When the phone rings, John rushes to it as fast as he can, so as not to wake the sleeping Peter.*

Hello, John Bercow speaking.

"Where the hell is my brother, Bercow?"

*It takes John a moment to realize who is on the other end of the line.*

...Oh! Miles, hello! Peter's right here - he's fallen asleep on the sofa before Question Time even started, never fear. I've put a blanket on him and-

"He's what? Wake him up and send him back here immediately."

Really, Miles, there is no need to worry, he's done this numerous times in the past.

"Yes, and those times he wasn't recovering from an opioid addiction nor was he trying to regain his health after being a werewolf for two months and covered in bedsores!"

That- that is all very true, Miles, of course, but-

"Listen to me, you jumped-up, undignified little shrimp of an excuse for a man, send my brother home now."

*John, indignant as ever, begins to argue back. Forgetting that Peter is sleeping just a few feet away, it is not long before he is yelling down the phone at the man's older brother, waking Peter from his nap.*

Text From 078## ######

Dear all,

Shift duty is permanently terminated for all who were previously involved.

Thank you for your cooperation in this matter.

-John

*John flicks through the newspapers and drinks his tea. It's the full moon tonight - if the cure has worked, Peter will have been able to avoid transformation last night. Tonight, however, would pose the biggest challenge. Tonight is when whatever is left of the wolf will be at its strongest. With Peter so weak, it could possibly be the... he might... tonight may very well be the l...*

*John takes a big swig of his tea, distracting himself with one of the small inside stories. He sips at his tea and tries to ignore the growing dread in his stomach.*

*Tea finishes, he puts his mug in the sink, picks up the papers and painkillers and goes through to Peter's cell, as has become his routine by now.*

Good morning, Peter. How were the audiobooks?

*John is flicking through the papers before he takes them down to Peter when a thought strikes him. He checks his calendar. The full moon is tomorrow.*

*John takes a large gulp of tea.*

*Tomorrow they'll know if Vince and Peter's efforts have been successful - they should know if Peter is still a werewolf. If there's even the smallest part of the wolf left by then, however, then Peter will be in for one truly horrible night. Not even the DEFRA-approved painkillers would be able to help.*

*John tucks the newspapers under his arm, grabs the painkillers and heads down to Peter's cell.*

*At last the prescription from had come through - too late to retrieve the drugs last night, by as soon as he possibly could, John acquired the painkillers and newspapers.*

*He goes down to Peter's cell.*

Good morning, Peter!

*John flicks through the papers downstairs while he tries to drink his coffee.*

*Damn the Telegraph all the way to Hades! he thinks. That is not and has never been my intention...*

*He rubs his eyes.*

*The story doesn't seem to be going to far at the moment - and no one bar a few unconnected users on Twitter are calling for his resignation, according to Sally - but... it's expenses. It's the whole reason he got the job in the first place! If there's one issue above all he has to seen to be perfectly clear on, it's this.*

*He takes another sip of his drink.*

*He was only doing what he thought was right - the original Ipsa report included information that could have resulted in the general public discovering the home addresses of Members of Parliament, something which is illegal. He sent a request to Ipsa to have that very specific information redacted, not to have the whole report pulled! And now he's the one being named with expenses fiddling and a cover up when he'd done nothing wrong.*

*John sighs. There's only one thing for it...*

*He refolds the papers, picks up a bunch of painkillers and leaves his coffee on the side to head down to Peter's cell. He places The Telegraph on Peter's bed, the page with his name, expenses and broken promises open on Peter's lap.*

I need your help, Peter.

*John arrives in Peter's cell with a bunch of newspapers and painkillers. He hadn't had any luck tracking down the buprenorphine as, it turns out, it is only available on prescription and without one, is a Class C drug. As such, he'd bought as many of the strongest strength over the counter pills as he could without causing suspicion. With the bad publicity about MPs' expenses all over the press, the last thing he needed would be a "Commons' Speaker On Heroin Medication" or "John Bercow Tries To Top Himself" story to go along with it.*

*He dismisses the guard on duty and then checks to see if Peter's awake. He is, so John lets himself into the cell.*

Hello, Peter.

*It's the charity swim tomorrow and as much as John tries to relax, he can't. With over £2500 of donations on his webpage already, he can't afford to mess this up. He contemplates going to another swim, getting in some last minute training, but decides against it; all the advice he has been given and actively sought out told him that would be the worst thing for him to do today.*

*John sighs. A healthy does of pasta and vegetables for dinner followed by an early night and then he would be ready. He just had to make it through the rest of today, preferably relaxing.*

*He thinks that, perhaps, his relaxing will be aided when Vince arrives. The other man is usually a calming and reassuring presence, and John hopes today will be no different. Midway through the conversation, however, Vince compliments Peter on his research and suggestions for alterations to the cure potion, a few of which Vince hadn't caught when doing him own assessment. John, confused, asked for more details. He discovers that the day before, Vince had received a number of pages from Peter suggesting better ways to achieve some of the potion's outcomes - something that, evidently, had taken Peter a great deal of researching to conclude.*

*Distracted for the rest of the conversation, John eventually says goodbye to Vince.*

*How in Merlin's name had Peter been able to do all that research? It was a question that needed answering and so John made his way to Peter's cell once more.*

*John grumbles in his sleep; there's something tickling his nose. He twitches. Still there.*

*John tries to roll over but one of his arms is trapped under the thing that's making his nose itch. The sunlight is streaming through a crack in the curtains and makes sure he can't get back to sleep. Sighing, John opens his eyes and tries to work out what was tickling his nose.*

*He turns.*

...Oh for Merlin's sake, not again...

*John is busy making breakfast in the kitchen as he reflects on things. Yesterday went spectacularly well. Sally came home from her morning at work being interviewed by some journalist or another to find Peter almost comatose with relaxation. An afternoon playing with the children and the wolf, Sally had privately confided to John after Peter had been returned to his cell for the night that she felt comfortable with Peter in his new form and that he may be around the children without the muzzle, as long as John was sure he could keep an eye on things.*

*The meat ready and his own tea finished brewing, John loads up the breakfast tray and heads through the fireplace to Peter.*

Good morning, Peter!

*John saunters through to Peter's cell with breakfast, whistling. He cheerily greets Peter.*

Good morning, Peter. How the devil are you today? Glorious day, don't you think?

*John awakens with a start. He hadn't slept well at all last night, falling asleep late and now waking up preposterously early. Next to him, Sally is fast asleep. Carefully, trying not to wake his wife, John climbs out of bed, puts on his slippers and makes his way to the kitchen to get himself a cup of coffee.*

*There is a strange, nagging feeling - like he's forgetting something incredibly important - gnawing away at the back of his mind as he pours boiling water over instant coffee granules. He looks around the kitchen as he stirs in his milk. Did he forget to load the dishwasher? No, the blinking lights show that it's already run. He catches sight of one of Freddie's drawings stuck to the fridge with magnets. No, the children go back to school tomorrow, not today. Had he missed an important birthday, perhaps? Checking the calendar would be a wise move, he decides, and makes his way over to the notice board.*

*Despite it being the 5th of September, the calendar still shows August. John snorts - it shows just how organised the Bercow household it. He flips the page over.*

*In bright red ink, a star surrounds the date with the letters "DEFRA DAY" almost carved into the page.*

*John nearly drops his drink and curses under his breath.*

*He puts the mug down on the kitchen counter and runs to the pile of paperwork he got from DEFRA for Peter's continued containment. Thankfully, there is a summary page at the top. He scans through it, realising he has far more to do that he first thought. How had he got so complacent about this?*

*John knew the answer - because the werewolf in question was someone he considered a friend. Impartiality, John, remember? He nearly kicked himself in frustration.*

*He rereads the summary. The final bits of paperwork - a timetable for any additional guardians looking after the wolf in the owners absence, for example - should be quick and easy enough to do.*

*The collar on the other hand...*

*John recalls how positively Peter reacted to it the first time. There isn't enough time between now and the inspection to convince him to wear it, he frets. He'll try and argue the regulations with the inspectors which will more than likely result in him being dragged away to be... to be...

*There was nothing else for it. Peter may hate him in the short term - and quite possibly the long term as well - but if Peter wanted to remain alive and out of the hands of the werewolf experimentation team, then John'll have to get the collar on him somehow.*

*John grabs the collar from its bag and heads through the fireplace to Peter's cell.*

*Now back in his office with a large mug of tea and enough mugs, John sends a text to his deputies*

Text from 078## ######

Dear all,

I am calling an emergency meeting in my office. Now.

-John

*Having left Peter to his private phone call, John goes through the fireplace and arrives back in his living room. He really should call Frances and try and get this paperwork sorted. He goes through to his study and picks up the house phone. Without the contacts list in his mobile phone, John has no idea what numbers to dial.*

*Thankfully, the paper index is sitting right next to him. He flicks through it and finds D'Souzza's number.*

*He dials and waits for her to pick up.*

Good morning, Frances, John here. I hope I didn't wake you...?

*John and Chris appear at Hyde Park, ready to hunt the wolf*

Where did you say the sighting was?

*John is woken by his phone buzzing next to his ear. Having had it switched off for most of the holiday, he is unused to the alarm and nearly falls out of bed. He checks the message. Peter's fine, it would seem, if a little grumpy, but interior decoration does that on occasion.*

*John stretches and tries not to wake Sally up as he gets out of bed. A cup of tea later and John is sitting, typing away at the laptop Sally left open and on - even in her sleep she can't stand her infernal gadgets being switched off - to get the day's news. He looks up what happened regarding the situation in Regent's Park the previous night.*

*The details are few and far between but John gets the gist of the story - a wolf (a giant one in some interpretations) attacked two people in the Park. Both are hospitalized and the outlook is bleak. John reads the details of the injuries. An expert on wild animal attacks he is not, but even to him the list of broken bones and bashed-in skulls seem too much for a lone wolf. A bear, perhaps, but not a wolf. Unless it was a very large wolf.*

A large wolf... a large wolf...

*Suddenly, a thought strikes him.*

No. No, it couldn't possibly... that's ridiculous, John. There haven't been wild werewolves in London for decades.

*John tries to put the thought to the back of his mind. He opens up the BBCNews website and a particular story grabs his interest.*

A fire? Most odd... I shall have to speak to Black Rod when I get back...

*Despite trying his best to ignore the growing feeling of unease by distracting himself with the news items of less immediate importance, John cannot resist testing his theory. A quick Google search shows him the phases of the moon. Tonight is the full moon. All of a sudden, things seem a lot more serious.*

Oh dear...

*He quickly grabs his phone and sends a text to every witch and wizard he has in his contact book.*

Text from 078## ######

Arriving back from holiday later today and request an urgent meeting with all magical folk in or able to get back to London this morning. Preliminary research has indicated the possibility of a lycanthropic outbreak in the city.

-John

*The message sent, John hurriedly sets about packing his things away and getting ready to head back to London by himself. If there really is a werewolf running around London he doesn't want his family anywhere near the city.*

Text from 078## ######

Peter,

Sally says Twitter is abuzz with goings on in Regent's Park. Hope you're not involved and instead curled up with your latest plans to enslave the government.

-John

For all those interested, extracts from my World at One interview can be found here.

As for my trip to South Africa, updates are available on the Twitter by following the tag-thing #SpeakerinSA, or so I've been told. I'm sure that if I am mistaken, Sally will be prompt in informing me.