Bite hard, well, it's a broken smile...
Who: Sherlock Holmes, John Watson, Kenzi.
When: Thursday night.
Where: 20A
Summary: Why not spend the night in with a bit of takeaway?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, most probably. Kenzi. Vampirism. Grouchiness.
There were two things that immediately occurred to Sherlock upon waking up. The first was that he was really very tired of sleeping in the closet. This wasn't a space meant for two people and yet John insisted upon clambering his way in alongside him every morning, something which Sherlock permitted because saying no to John was still nearly impossible. He'd let the man cut his arm off; letting him sleep here was comparably tame.
The second thing that occurred to him was that he could, on the other hand, really get used to waking up like this, when the lights had all gone out and he emerged from his den into a world that was dark and still and almost serene, through which he could move with an ease that wasn't quite present during the day, with the lights stinging his eyes and the need to sleep addling his brain. It was a vast change from the facility as he'd experienced it thus far, and it was a change that suited him. The animal arrogance that came with knowing that he was fast and silent and strong and clever, that he outclassed his prey in nearly all aspects, was its own sort of thrilling too, even if it was also exceptionally dangerous. There was a mental path he couldn't allow himself to wander down for long. Not if he wanted to come out of this week both sane and alive.
Of course, that didn't stop him from feeling the slightest hint of amusement when he caught the scent of Kenzi still out there in their room, so trusting. All of them were. Everyone who had come to him this week and willingly allowed him to feed from them. They were funny, every last one. He couldn't help that, surely, same as he couldn't help the way his spine crackled loudly as he straightened on his way out of the closet to stretch his legs. Some things simply happened by virtue of circumstance.
When: Thursday night.
Where: 20A
Summary: Why not spend the night in with a bit of takeaway?
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Language, most probably. Kenzi. Vampirism. Grouchiness.
There were two things that immediately occurred to Sherlock upon waking up. The first was that he was really very tired of sleeping in the closet. This wasn't a space meant for two people and yet John insisted upon clambering his way in alongside him every morning, something which Sherlock permitted because saying no to John was still nearly impossible. He'd let the man cut his arm off; letting him sleep here was comparably tame.
The second thing that occurred to him was that he could, on the other hand, really get used to waking up like this, when the lights had all gone out and he emerged from his den into a world that was dark and still and almost serene, through which he could move with an ease that wasn't quite present during the day, with the lights stinging his eyes and the need to sleep addling his brain. It was a vast change from the facility as he'd experienced it thus far, and it was a change that suited him. The animal arrogance that came with knowing that he was fast and silent and strong and clever, that he outclassed his prey in nearly all aspects, was its own sort of thrilling too, even if it was also exceptionally dangerous. There was a mental path he couldn't allow himself to wander down for long. Not if he wanted to come out of this week both sane and alive.
Of course, that didn't stop him from feeling the slightest hint of amusement when he caught the scent of Kenzi still out there in their room, so trusting. All of them were. Everyone who had come to him this week and willingly allowed him to feed from them. They were funny, every last one. He couldn't help that, surely, same as he couldn't help the way his spine crackled loudly as he straightened on his way out of the closet to stretch his legs. Some things simply happened by virtue of circumstance.