fic: "Stretching." Vampires and hunters. chapter 6
Title: Stretching
Author: ariadnechan
Characters John/Sherlock, John/OCS; Irene/Moriarty, Irene/Kate, Irene/OC, Mycroft/OC, Mycroft/ Lestrade, Elsie(OC)/Holmeses, Moriarty/Elsie Holmes and Sherlock Holmes one sided, Moriarty/Sebastian Moran, Moriarty/OCs.
Fandom: Sherlock BBC fusion with Vampire: the Masquerade; some Bram Stoker’s Dracula; and my own vampire world.
Rating fic: R/ Chapter: PG-13
Disclaimers: Most of this is not mine. Conan Doyle, Mark Gatiss, Steven Moffat, Wizard of the Coast and Bram Stoker contributed a lot. I just put it in a shaker with my love and some of my own vampire creation and voila!
Betas: mildred_bobbin You are awesome and I had the input and help of vincentmeoblinn from ao3 thanks a lot my friend!
You can find the fic since the beggining In:
Here all the Chapters in AO3
And Here in LJ
Chapter Summary: Sherlock plays gambit while vampires seek their marks.
Chapter Six
'There Is Not Going Back.'
London, Baker Street, 2009.
John sensed the wrongness of everything when he reached Lestrade and his men. Sherlock lied to him and now he was out there with the murderer. He explained the situation to Lestrade and the possibility of the murderer being a cabbie, and promised the DI to contact him if he had more news.
John started to walk faster when he reached the corner Sherlock had turned to meet the cabbie and called Mycroft.
“Holmes, it’s me, John. Your brother escaped with the murderer. It is a human cabbie, but he works for Moriarty. I will follow Sherlock by scent and my sensory scan, but I would appreciate the input of your CCTVs. Prepare yourself for any contingency.”
“Acknowledged John, we are looking for the cameras’ feedback now. The cab Sherlock is in turned west; I will update you, and follow your phone’s GPS with a team.”
John felt the other man’s worry, almost imperceptible, at the other side of the line. “I will bring the git back.”
John ended the call and jumped to the nearest roof to follow Sherlock’s scent with more speed. He ran and leapt into the London night and suddenly, when he was closer to his prey, he felt another presence doing the same with the childish joy of a newborn running into the dark. Another vampire was hunting the cab. He had to be careful, so John slowed down and stayed a little behind the young vampire.
Finally they arrived at two identical buildings - some kind of college. Sherlock and the cabbie were entering the building on the right with the newborn a few steps behind. It was a girl vampire: trained assassin, but so very young, no more than 30 or 40 years of being turned into vampire.
John decided to take the left building. He followed the party, mirroring their destination. He finally reached a big window which connected to a garden in between the two building and to another window where Sherlock was seated with the human serial killer in a lab. Behind the door of the room, there was the girl vampire with a weapon ready to kill her mark.
John secreted himself in the side of his window and heard the conversation on the other side. Timing was everything. Since the vampire on the other side was waiting for some cue, he had to wait for the same before he could intervene. John texted Mycroft with the situation, and waited.
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London, Rolland-Kerr Further Education College, 2009.
Annais decided to watch the infamous Sherlock Holmes doing his best, while she waited for the moment to come.
She knew the entirety of the cabbie’s speech by heart and it was really boring; she didn’t know how the werewolves didn’t fall asleep with the incessant droning voice of the taxi driver. But now Sherlock was describing the cabbie, and she wanted to know what was so special about the detective.
“So all this isn’t about a petty revenge against the werewolves? Love is a vicious motivator, it is not?” The younger Holmes was smiling at the other human.
“As I said you before, I don’ care about the furry stupid creatures at ol’.” The cabbie was spitting the words.
“The girl in the picture is your daughter and she is dying.” Sherlock’s words were like a blow, and the other man was clearly upset with Holmes’ findings.
“Leukemia, it ‘as not cure for 'er, 'dose stupid docs' said ‘dere is nothin' more for me girl, Mr. ‘olmes.” The man was impressed but not happy about the whole exchange with Holmes.
“So you are waiting for the vampires to turn her for your troubles?” Sherlock mocked the other man.
“Me and de boss ‘ave’ an agreement, yeah. I finish my quota, ‘e saves me daughter.” Hope was upset and getting more by the minute, and Annais became alert.
“And this boss of yours is my admirer?, Moriarty, maybe?” Said Sherlock while smirking to the the cabbie.
This Sherlock was too clever for Annais’ taste, but James wanted the young detective to know about him, so this was alright. There was obvious surprise in the taxi’s driver face, even if he didn’t say anything, the human murderer was really angry now.
“Now we’re done talking, time to play my game, Mr. ‘olmes.” Yell the older man.
The next part was the same as always, except Holmes was not afraid. The detective didn’t move to take the flask, and he decided for the pistol.
“Please shoot me; after all silver bullet especially if they are hollow- because of the high price of the metal- can’t make too much damage.”
The cabbie was furious when Holmes got up and attempted to leave. And he started to describe the detective and his infinite boredom. The incredible thing, was that the words were hypnotic to the human who took the bottle and the pill with poison, while Hope continued to talk.
That was it, Annais knew. She must stop Sherlock from taking the bloody pill, but how? She didn’t know how to stop him. She killed people and other things, she was not used to bloody saving them.
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John didn’t understand why Sherlock fell into the murderer’s trap so easily, like he was brainwashed. Suddenly he took the bottle from the table and with the poison in his hand and begins to lift the pill to his lips.
Apparently the other vampire was lost as to what to do. It was now clear to John that her job was keeping Sherlock safe for Moriarty, but the newborn had no idea of how to accomplish it. So he had to blow his cover now.
He scanned the area for Mycroft’s team; they were almost there, so maybe a distraction would suffice. He reached the mind of the head of the operation and gave him instructions about to where to go, and made him think it was his idea when he looked at the buildings. After that John took his gun and aimed.
Sherlock had the pill at his lips and John shot. The bullet flew securely and speedily to its target. Hope fell with only a grunt.
At the same time several things happened at once:
The young vampire fired her bolt into Sherlock’s leg.
Sherlock jumped backwards, the pill falling from his hand. And he fell against the wall with the impact.
John reacted at once feeling the intoxicating scent of Sherlock’s blood and jumped out of another window onto the roof disposing of the gun, to finally come back in less than five minutes to the building where Sherlock was.
The newborn left as fast as the celerity of her legs allowed her. John didn’t follow her, because he was too worried and too driven- by the blood spilling from Sherlock’s wound to worry about the girl yet, but he would not forget the signature of her mind or her general features.
Mycroft’s Team was there, securing the area and entering the building. As the other vampire had left the scene, John let his presence and anger be known and everybody let him pass without asking who he was, what he was doing there, or remembering those facts either. Humans would act at his will if he wanted and he wanted to reached Sherlock right at this moment; the other humans were in the way.
John knew this was the first time in nearly a century he was ad portas of a frenzy, but he was past the point of caring.
Hope, the cabbie, was dead. The stink of him reached his nostrils fully, but the blood pumping from Sherlock was too overpowering for it to set in. John had to tame himself to walk properly and not to enter into his animal state. At the lab, the detective was trying to reach the table and get up; this was making his wound to bleed further. John tried to control his pace as a human running and held him before he fell.
“John, but how?” Sherlock asked disoriented.
The quarrel had dug a profound wound and had crushed the bone. John was furious, ‘Stupid girl!’ John would hunt her down soon enough.
John sealed the room with a flip of his hand. No one would see the room until he wanted them to. “Sherlock, it’s ok, someone shot you in the leg. I will take out the bolt, so I can stop the bleeding, all right?”
“The cabbie?” Sherlock asked while nodding about his wound.
“Dead Sherlock, someone was following both of you, first let me take care of you, and then we can take care of the scene okay.”
“Promise me to take pictures if I’ll pass out, John.” Sherlock took the lapels of John’s jacket, looking dreadful.
“I promise, now let me work.” Only the detective could be worried about the crime scene. And really he could not keep his promise.
John put Sherlock gently on the floor and put himself atop of him, inspecting the quarrel, it was old fashioned, like 800 years old. It was made of wood and sure enough the point was iron and like the old good ones. The newborn was clearly an assassin; it was obvious her weapon of choice was a crossbow, and that she used this kind of bolts to kill vampires because of the wood- the old stake through the heart- and the point made of iron for faeries.
Without losing more time, with one hand he took the quarrel out and quickly he sucked some of the blood, expecting the vile taste of an innocent, but it never came, Sherlock's blood was perfumed and more delectable than anything he’d ever had. It was difficult but John regained his focus to put some of his natural anesthetic into Sherlock bloodstream so he'd fall unconscious.
The wound was worse that he thought so John bit his finger and let a single drop fall into the destroyed bone. He took the bolt and put it in the outer part of the bone while it was repairing itself with John’s blood. So, John left there would be a wound in the bone but not as devastating as the original one.
While the bone repaired itself, the old vampire lapped more of Sherlock’s blood and then cut part of Sherlock’s trousers and made a makeshift dressing. John really hoped that Sherlock didn't make bleeding a daily occurrence, because apparently he was the only innocent in the world who triggered his blood fever and he was too old for that.
John tried hard to overcome his senses and after some minutes he opened the room for everyone to find it. He decided that if he took some pictures for Sherlock, after taking the bullet from the wall and bagging it in his pocket, it would help John to think more clearly, and stop his near frenzy, before everyone got in the lab.
The operation team had already called the Yard and John quickly explained the situation to them.
Finally the ambulance came and they took Sherlock, John followed them, he would never leave his side. The paramedics asked him if he was a relative, John manipulated their minds without shame or care, so they didn’t ask again.
When Lestrade came minutes later and asked him for the events of the night, John dismissed him, as if he hadn't heard him, while following ‘His’ detective into the ambulance. Yes Sherlock was ‘His’- the gods protect him- there was no turning back now.
The ambulance disappeared into the darkness leaving Lestrade with the same sense of deja vu as the first time he saw the short blond man.
To be continued….