*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 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 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.*

*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.*