On the eighth day of Sherlockmas: The Vampire & The Detective, for sherlockmas
Author: scandalbaby
Title: The Vampire & The Detective
A gift for: For the Community
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, John Watson, OMC
Category: Het/Gen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Major character death
Summary: Molly Hooper was a vampire, a fact she kept hidden from the world at large. But Sherlock Holmes is a genius, so of course he's going to figure it out. But his reaction is surprising, and from that Molly finds their relationship changing. When Moriarty puts it and her existence in jeopardy, however, decisions are made that have life-changing consequences for the two of them.
Author's Notes: My recipient mentioned they liked vamp!lock and this idea just kind of bubbled forth. I hope they don't mind that Molly is the vampire instead of Sherlock, but it just worked better for the story.
Molly Hooper hadn't been a vampire for very long when she had met Sherlock Holmes. Maybe nine months, a year at most, something like that. She'd gone out to celebrate her new post at St. Bartholomew's and went home with the wrong guy. She was honestly surprised he hadn't just left her for dead. The fact he had drained her and turned her was what had been the most shocking even of her life, and she had been very shocked to wake up the next evening. David was an arse. He wanted a harem of women to be at his beck and call. She was to be the first, he said. And then he went out during the day, and she wondered how he had done it because when she got a tiny sliver of sun on her bare arm it began to burn. She realized after a day or two of close study it was either the pendant or the ring. She resolved that she was going to off him and take them if it was the last thing she did.
He had a weakness for women. And while she wasn't the prettiest one he could have picked, he'd made a mistake thinking she was stupid. So she seduced him the third night after she'd come back, slipped a few sleeping pills in his drink and prayed they worked. Apparently they worked even better on a vampire than they did on a human. No matter what she did he didn't wake up. She took the pendant off from around his neck and pulled the ring off his finger. Now all she had to do was kill him. She'd watched all sorts of vampire movies. She knew that a stake to the heart would work, or cutting off his head. She couldn't guarantee he wouldn't wake up if she tried to hack off his head with the small butcher knife in the kitchen part of his flat so a stake to the heart it was. One of the unique and welcome traits she had gotten as one of the undead was strength that went above and beyond a human's. She was easily able to snap off a leg of the wooden coffee able he had, and while he was still passed out from the pills she drove the makeshift stake through his heart. He exploded in a cloud of dust. Good riddance to him, she had thought to herself. She put the pendant on and slipped on the ring and left, glad to put the place behind her.
Of course, he hadn't taught her how to be a vampire. She knew she wasn't going to kill anyone to survive; she had made an oath to be a doctor, even if it was just a pathologist, and if she took a life that would go against her very nature. She wasn't sure if bagged blood would work, but by the time she showed up for her first shift at work she was nearly ravenous. She found her way to where they were and sunk her fangs into one of the bags, drinking it up. Yes, she could survive this way. That was good. That made her feel better. She'd mastered going from what she called her vamp face to her regular face the first day after she was turned. That was one of the few things David had shown her. And while she had been a bit of a fashion fan when she was human, now that she wasn't she needed to be mousy, be plain, blend into the woodwork, so to speak. She couldn't afford to be singled out because being singled out meant being hunted. It could mean this second chance she had somehow gotten would be ripped away and she'd lose everything she had hoped for, everything she had worked so hard to get as a human. She couldn't let that happen.
She had been doing fine before Sherlock entered her life. The moment she met him, the moment DI Lestrade introduced them she knew he could be trouble. He noticed every tiny little detail of everything, and he surely could have noticed she wasn't exactly alive so easily that she would never stand a chance. He was the one who could bring the whole charade down. So she had to improvise. Make herself useful but push him away at the same time. The only way she could do that was to pretend to be infatuated with him, but in a subtle way. She'd had plenty of crushes, plenty of experience pining away for someone who wouldn't notice her. She could easily slip back into that with Sherlock. And it worked fairly well. Soon any calculating looks her gave were directed not at her but at the bodies she offered him. If he was studying her he was doing it so covertly that she couldn't tell. She breathed a sigh of relief over that. She was safe, or at least safer.
When John came into the picture it was still fairly easy to keep up the charade. And he became her friend, which she liked. Friends were something she sorely lacked, trying to keep herself apart from the world. Attachments were only going to cause her pain, she knew that, because they would all grow old and she would not. One day anyone she was close to would die and she would still look vibrant and young, not aging a day over thirty. It was going to break her heart when it happened, but for now she was not lonely. She appreciated John and all his attempts to make Sherlock more well rounded, more human. It didn't seem to be having much effect, but it was amusing to watch.
And then she met Jim and the whole thing nearly came crashing down. She had had no clue who he really was or why he was interested in her, but he had flirted and charmed and she had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. She had wanted so desperately to feel loved, to feel wanted. And it wasn't until the third date, the last one, when he finally kissed her. The curse of being a vampire is she was ice cold. She usually wore long sleeves and avoided touching people so that no one would tell; if it happened by accident she would always come up with some excuse, and people chose to accept it rather than think something else was wrong. But when he kissed her unexpectedly he got a perplexed look on his face and she knew right then she had to end it. So she ignored him, didn't respond to any attempts he made to talk to her, and soon he left her alone. It had been such a close call that she knew she couldn't risk it again. She couldn't fall for anyone, allow someone to get that close ever again. She needed to steel her heart and prepare to be alone for the rest of her afterlife.
The problem was the ruse to fancy Sherlock wasn't really a ruse anymore. She really did fancy him, as much of an arrogant arse as he could be. He was fascinating. Intriguing. Sexy as hell to boot, with his sharp cut suits and tight shirts and striking eyes. She had fallen for him, fallen hard, but she knew he would never accept her, never accept the fact that she really shouldn't be there. He would hold her out to study and she didn't want that. She wanted him, wanted him to love her, and she knew that that was an impossible dream. Still, she did hope, and when Christmas rolled around and John invited her to the party she decided that at the very least she should try and get him to notice her, just this once. Oh, the words had hurt, the callous words he said, but the genuine apology had been good. And then he had leaned in and kissed her cheek and she began to panic. He would realize she was freezing to the touch. Her secret would be out. When he pulled away he gave her a quizzical look, but then the moan was heard and she said it wasn't her and he retreated to his room. She had dodged a bullet right there.
Or so she had thought. Then there was the trip to the morgue and Sherlock identifying the body with the bashed in face and then he left, and his brother lingered for a moment. Then he was gone too and she had the space to think, to plan. She knew he would say something. He had to have noticed that something was unnatural about her. Now she just had to wait and see what lies she would have to come up with, whether she would have to pack up and run and leave this all behind. She just hoped if he was going to ruin it all for her that he at least gave her a head start to try and make a life somewhere else, or that he didn't kill her outright.
It was maybe three hours later, when she finally finished the autopsy on the woman he'd identified and a few others that were waiting that he returned. She hadn't heard him come in, and when she looked up from her paperwork she started slightly. He was standing in the doorway of her office, looking at her. "Sherlock! Oh, you startled me," she said, hoping she could play off her nervousness as being surprised by his sudden appearance.
"You were ice cold. When I kissed your cheek, you were cold, far colder than you should have been."
"I had just come in from outside," she said. "I was probably still chilled from that."
"No. You should have warmed up, at least a bit. You were freezing to the touch." He came into the office. "If I touch you now, I will probably feel that your skin is as cold as ice, won't I?"
"Don't," she said quietly. "Please, don't."
"Why are you cold?" he asked, moving closer. She stood up from her seat but he blocked the only way out. "Molly, what are you hiding?"
"You won't believe me if I told you," she said, wringing her hands slightly.
"Try me," he said, stopping and crossing his arms.
"I'm a vampire," she said after a moment's pause.
"There are no such things," he said, shaking his head.
"Yes, there are. I am one. Have been for almost two years. Do you want me to prove it to you?"
Sherlock nodded. "Yes." She concentrated and then morphed into her vamp face. Sherlock took a step back, his eyes wide. "You really are," he said quietly. "Unbelievable."
"And now it's all going to go to hell," she said, switching back to her normal face. "If you aren't going to kill me, at least let me leave before someone else finds out."
"How do you survive?" he asked.
"I filch blood bags here at the hospital. I made a vow not to feed off a human and not to kill anyone. And not to turn anyone, either."
"And how do you go out in the sun?"
She held up the pendant. "This and my ring keep me from burning up in the sun. I'm pretty sure I only need one or the other, but I keep them both close."
"This is..." he began.
"Horrible? Gross? So strange you want to turn me into a science experiment?"
"I was going to say fascinating," he said. "And I don't want to turn you into a science experiment."
"Why not? You love to study things. I'd be a perfect specimen to study and dissect and all of that."
"Frankly, no one would believe me," he said with just the barest hint of a grin. "And it isn't as though you hurt anyone. I would have noticed if there were bodies turning up that had been drained of blood. That would be the type of case that would get my attention."
"Oh," she said quietly. "So...now what?"
"I would like to talk to you more about this. It is true I am intrigued, but I believe conversations with you and the occasional observation will sate my curiosity."
"Will you keep my secret?" she asked, hope blooming for the first time since he kissed her cheek.
He nodded. "I will keep your secret, Molly."
"Thank you," she said, a relieved smile blossoming on her face.
"Tomorrow we will talk. Tonight I have other business to attend to." He nodded towards her. "Good night, Molly."
"Good night, Sherlock," she said, and then she watched him leave her office. She went back to her chair and sat down. That could have gone so much worse, she realized. She was incredibly lucky that Sherlock found it fascinating instead of repulsive. Now she just had to hope he really did keep her secret, or else it could all come crashing down on her.
He did come to the morgue the next evening, and she was ready. She had to work, but he worked around it, asking her questions as she did the paperwork from the autopsies she had performed earlier in the day. He had so many questions, and she didn't have answers for everything, but by the end of his time spent with her she had to admit he was taking it far better than she had expected. And to be honest, it felt good to have someone who knew the truth. Not having to hide it helped so much. That night turned into the first of several that they spent together, talking. The first few weeks it was mostly questions and observations, but soon it became times when they would talk about a variety of things. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn they were becoming friends. She liked the idea of Sherlock as a friend, even if she might want more, deep down in her heart. He was being nicer to her at the very least, and she liked this new side of him.
It had been maybe six months later when he disappeared for a time, and when he came back he made a beeline straight for her. "Sherlock!" she said when she opened her door. "You're back. It's good to see you."
"It's good to be home, I suppose," he replied.
"Do I want to know where you went to?" she asked, moving out of the way so he could come in.
"I had hoped to tell you. I can't let anyone else know, and since I hold your secret close I had hoped you might do the same for me," he said as he came into her home.
She shut the door behind him. "Of course. Anything you want to tell me will stay between us."
"You know the body I identified on Christmas?" he asked, looking around. She pointed to her sofa and he sat down.
"The woman with her face bashed in?" she asked, sitting next to him.
He nodded. "I lied that it was her. John can tell you that much; a few months back she broke into my home and I solved a puzzle for her and ruined a plan of Mycroft's. She tried to extort money from him but I thwarted that plan and she left with what she had and her life." He looked down at his hands. "Two weeks ago I was asked to decipher something sent to the government. The woman was to be executed by a terrorist group in the Middle East. I went to go rescue her and put her on the path to a new life somewhere else. I have only just returned."
"Who was she?" Molly asked.
"Irene Adler."
Her eyes went wide. "The dominatrix? The one who broke up that celebrity marriage a while back by being with the husband and the wife?"
He nodded. "One and the same."
"Wow," she said, leaning back into her sofa more. "That's...wow. Why did you save her?"
"If I hadn't taken her phone and cracked her password she would have had protection. It was partially my fault she was in that predicament."
"That's quite noble of you, Sherlock," Molly said with a smile. "She was very lucky to have met you."
"Yes, well, in order for her to pull this off no one must know she's alive, but I had to tell someone, and I thought you would understand," he said.
Molly reached over and touched his hand. He had gotten used to the temperature of her skin months ago, so when she touched him he didn't shudder. "I do. I promise I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you." He looked down at their hands. "She and I talked, before she left with new identification to start a new life."
"That must have been a thought provoking conversation," she said, her smile becoming more amused now."
He nodded. "She said I seemed lonely. I seemed...sad. And she asked what had happened to you."
"How did she know who I was in the first place?" she asked, surprised.
"At the Christmas party, she was across the street, spying on us with binoculars. She saw me kiss your cheek. That's why she sent the text message when she did." He looked up at Molly. "She wondered if you would let me get close to you. I told her you were my friend. She then asked me about you, and I told her about you, aside from the vampire part. When I was done she said if she didn't know any better she'd think I fancied you."
"Do you fancy me, Sherlock?" she asked quietly.
He looked back down at their hands. "I'm not sure. I know we are close. I am at least as close to you as I am John. And I have never been the type to express emotion, or even really feel them. But I do feel something for you. I do not know quite what it is, but I would like the chance to find out." He looked back up again, searching her face. "I suppose I'm trying to ask if you might feel remotely the same about me. If you do not, I under--" He didn't get to finish his sentence because Molly leaned in and pressed her lips against his. It took him a moment but then he relaxed into the kiss and kissed her back, even taking his hands from hers and caressing her cheek gently. She was fairly sure this was not his first kiss, but if it was he was doing marvelously. When they pulled apart he looked at her. "I will take that as confirmation you do, in fact, feel the same way."
"I do," she said with a smile. "Are you going to be okay with dating a vampire?"
"I will be," he said with a nod. "As long as you are okay with dating a regular human."
"I am." She moved closer to him. "I wouldn't mind doing that again, you know."
"Nor would I," he said with a slight smile, leaning in more. "I am glad you are taking a chance with me."
"I'm glad I am too," she said before he kissed her again. This was what she wanted, she thought to herself. There might be heartbreak later, and eventually it would end because all things do, but for now it was exactly what she wanted, and she wasn't going to let him go until she absolutely needed to.
She was happy. She was happier than she had been in a long time, since even before she was turned into a vampire. She knew it was too good to last. She and Sherlock had not exactly been hiding their relationship, but they hadn't been very public about it, either. For all intents and purposes, Sherlock was a bit of a celebrity. It would look very strange if he got older and she stayed the same, providing they were together that long. John knew, and John completely supported them and did his best to help them have privacy when he could. It was nice that there was someone who was supportive of them, even if he didn't know the whole story of hers. After the case in Dartmoor Sherlock had decided it might be best if he kept a lower profile, and she and John did everything they could to help with that. But still, Sherlock had fans. And one of them was someone Molly knew.
She was finishing up her shift at the hospital when she heard the morgue doors open. She hadn't been expecting Sherlock at all; they were going to meet at her flat in an hour. And unless it was another body she wasn't expecting someone from the hospital. She stood up and left her office, and saw a man standing with his back to her office. "May I help you?" she asked.
"How quickly you forgot me," the man said, and if she had had blood coursing through her veins it would have frozen at the voice. It was the last person she had dated before Sherlock. He turned, and she saw he wasn't in the T-shirt and khakis he had worn when they were dating, instead wearing a well cut suit. She knew who he really was; Sherlock had made sure she knew Jim from IT was really James Moriarty, and she knew she had to be careful. "Hello, Molly."
"Jim," she said, plastering a smile on her face. "It's been a long time."
"Yes, it has." He gave her a grin as well, but it resembled a shark more than anything else. She was distinctly uneasy. "I see you've moved on."
"Yes, I have a new boyfriend now."
"Oh, I know. I know Sherlock very well. You could say I'm a fan." He came closer. "I wonder, though. Why on earth would he date a vampire?"
"I'm not a vampire," she said, beginning to panic.
"I know a vampire when I touch one," he said. "You aren't the first one I've come across. Tell me, where's your sire?"
"He's gone," she said quietly.
"I see. And I take it you were the one to make him gone?" She nodded. "That's against the rules. I'm pretty sure you don't know about the rules, do you?"
"No, I don't," she said, trying to put on a brave face, fix her stance and try and project bravado. "Are you trying to intimidate me?"
"I was going to play a game with your boyfriend. Ruin his reputation and then force him to make a choice. It could have been so much fun to do that. But now I think I want to play a different game. I want you to kill him, Molly. Drain his body of blood for me and I won't turn you in to the vampires who could end you in a heartbeat."
"No. I won't do that," she said adamantly.
"Then say good-bye to your life here. You'll have to be on the run for the rest of your afterlife." He moved closer to her. "Of course, if you just drain him, leave his body somewhere public, we'll forget the whole thing. I'll forget I ever met you, and you can continue to exist here in London, at least until it gets to the point where you need to leave before the puny mortals get suspicious."
She was quiet, and then she looked at him defiantly. "What's to stop me from killing you right here and now?" she asked.
"I have it set up so that if I don't make a phone call every night your secret is sent to the right people. I won't tell you when I call or who I call or how your secret will get out. That would make things too easy. But just know if I don't make that call your happy life here goes bye-bye." He moved closer to her and extended his arm. In his hand was a simple white business card. "You have forty-eight hours. When you've killed him, call this number. And then poof! Your secret goes to my grave."
She took the card. "I hate you. I'll hunt you down for this."
"I'm sure you'll try," he said as he turned around and walked to the doors. When he got to them he paused and looked over his shoulder. "Oh. And when you kill him, make sure to tell him Jim Moriarty said hello." And with that, he left.
Molly looked over the card as tears began to spill down her face. She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill Sherlock. He had to take that smug bastard out, he had to find a way to stop him. She wouldn't kill him. She would just leave, spare him and start over somewhere else. She could do it. She had to do it. She finished up her duties with a heavy heart, then went home.
As was expected, Sherlock was there, waiting for her. He had a hopeful expression on his face as she got to her door and let them into her home, but when he saw her expression he frowned. "What's wrong, Molly?"
"I had a visitor at work today," she said, handing Sherlock the card. "Jim Moriarty wants me to kill you, or else he'll tell other vampires I killed my sire. Apparently you're not supposed to do that."
"I am sorry," he said, balling up his hand that held the card into a fist, crumpling the card. "I should have killed him at the pool. I should have found a way to stop him."
"I'm going to vanish. I'm going to leave. You have to promise me you'll stop him, Sherlock, all right?" She moved over to him. "I can't kill you. I won't do it. I don't care if I have to be on the run for the rest of my existence, I won't be the one to kill you."
Sherlock unclenched his fist and pulled her into an embrace. "How long do you have?"
"Forty-eight hours. He told me if he doesn't make a call every evening that he'll spill my secret. That's all he told me, too."
"That's not enough time," he murmured, his lips nestled near her ear. "I need more time."
"I'll leave, Sherlock," she said, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I'll leave and you'll be safe."
"But you won't." He pulled away. "I can't leave you to that fate."
"And I can't kill you," she said, tears slipping down her face. "We both know logically me leaving is the best course of action."
He brushed the tears away. "I will find another way out of this. Do you trust me?"
She nodded. "I trust you."
"Good." He leaned in and kissed her, and she responded back with a frantic need that usually was not in their kisses. He soon responded in kind. They had never shagged; the farthest they had gone was lying in bed and kissing. It had been nearly nine months since they had started this relationship but this was something she wasn't sure he would want. It's one thing to sleep with a warm-blooded woman; it was a completely other thing for a human to be with a vampire. But as he reached between them for the buttons of her shirt and began undoing them she realized it didn't matter to him.
When the buttons were undone he peeled her shirt away from her chest. She pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders and he shrugged out of it. Then she moved her hands to undo the buttons of his shirt, feeling her own hands shake. She was nervous, more nervous than she had thought she would be. He must have noticed because he stilled her hands after a moment. "I'm nervous," she said, looking up at him.
"There is no reason to be," he replied. "I will not hurt you."
"I know." She took a deep breath to steady herself and then began to work on the buttons again. She got them undone and touched his chest.
"You are not as cold as you usually are," he said.
"I ate before I came up here. For an hour or so there is blood in my veins, so I'm warmer to the touch."
He moved away from her to rid himself of his shirt. "I do not mind the cold."
"I know," she said with a slightly shy smile.
"Perhaps we should go to your bedroom," he said.
"All right." She took his hand and lead him to her room. As soon as she had shut the door behind them he pulled her close to him again. He kissed her, without as much need this time, and she kissed him back. He reached around to undo the clasp of her bra and she moved back slightly to get it off and let it fall to the floor. Then he pulled her close again and backed them towards the bed, turning them so the backs of her knees hit the mattress. When that happened she clung to him slightly, and then he lowered her to the bed. She moved farther up on the mattress and propped herself up on her elbows slightly. "What are you planning on doing?" she asked.
"If everything fails and you do have to leave, I want this to be something you remember," he said quietly. "I want to please you very much."
She smiled slightly at him, then beckoned for him to come closer. He did, draping himself over her. She lowered herself back onto the bed and framed his face with her hands. "Even if it wasn't quite perfect I would remember it well," she said before lifting her head up slightly and kissing him again. He kissed her back, taking one hand and running it lightly along her side. She responded by moving her hands from his face and letting her fingers glide along his back, feeling the taut muscles there.
He pulled away from the kiss after a few minutes and began to trail kisses down towards her neck. He nipped at her skin lightly and she moaned softly. Then he pulled away for a moment. "You did like that?"
"I did," she replied with a slight nod.
"If you want to bite me you may," he said.
"Like draw blood?" she asked, surprised. He nodded. "Sherlock, I don't feed off humans."
"I will admit, I have wondered what that would be like. And as you have already eaten, there would be less risk that you would hurt me."
"Are you sure?" she asked, reaching over to touch his face.
He nodded. "I am."
"After this. After this I will. I can bite you without drawing blood, I think, if you want me to do that now."
"All right." He made his way back to her, moving lower. He let his mouth cover the tip of her breast and he bit down. She arched up and moaned again, moving her hands to his back and lightly digging her nails into his skin. Then he trailed kisses along the valley of her breasts before he repeated his actions on the other side. Finally he pulled away and made his way lower, going across her flat stomach. When he got to the top of her pants he pulled away, his hands moving to the button. Once it was undone he pulled down the zipper, and she lifted her hips up so he could get them off. He pulled of her panties as well as her pants, leaving her naked. "You are exquisite," he replied.
She had enough blood left in her veins to blush slightly. "Thank you."
He nudged her legs apart slightly and she obliged. He positioned himself between them and moved forward, and she shuddered when she felt his tongue on her. He teased her for a moment, then slowly inserted one finger into her, then two, then a third. He began to move them in and out in a slow rhythm at first, but soon he increased the pace. She could feel herself tighten around them as he teased her clit gently with his teeth, and soon she was spiraling towards an orgasm. He continued until the spasms stopped, and then he pulled away from her.
He quickly stripped out of the remainder of his clothes, then came over to her, covering her. She moved her hands to his back as he leaned in and kissed her. She could taste herself on his lips, but soon he pulled away again. He positioned himself at her entrance and then pushed into her, filling her completely. She gasped slightly. It had been a long time for her before she was turned, and then she had been with no one in the years since. She had forgotten how good this felt. Slowly he pulled out of her and then thrust back inside after he pulled almost completely out. He built up a rhythm, and it was all she could do to hold on tight. Soon she felt the tension build again, stronger this time, and within moments she climaxed again. She could feel him come as well, and after he was done he stilled and then sagged slightly. The two of them were still entwined for a few moments before he pulled out of her completely. "Was it memorable?" he asked with a grin.
She laughed. "Yes. Yes, it certainly was." She kissed him softly. "The best I ever had."
"Good." He looked at her. "I will find a way to keep you here," he said softly, moving a hand to caress her cheek. "I promise."
"I know," she said softly. "I love you, you know."
"I believe I love you as well." She moved her head slightly and kissed his palm. "I do not want to lose you."
"You will eventually," she said, her smile dimming slightly.
"I would rather have it be later than now."
"Me too. But we may not get what we want."
He nodded, then got off of her. "I believe we should probably clean ourselves up."
"The shower will warm me up a bit too, you know," she said, her grin becoming less sad.
"Then this shower should be very interesting." He offered her his hand. "Shall we?"
She nodded and took his hand, letting him pull her up. If nothing else, if tonight was all she got, she was happy. She could leave him and know that, for at least one night, she had everything she could have ever wanted.
Sherlock left her home early the next morning. She had thought he would be cold sleeping next to her all night but he had not made a single complaint throughout the night. He left without waking her, leaving a note on the pillow. She read the note twice before she got ready for her day. It asked her to give him time, to let him figure out a way to keep Moriarty at bay and keep her from leaving. All he needed was what was left of the forty-eight hours. She would give him that. But if it looked as though he would have to die for Moriarty to be appeased she would run. She would run and never look back.
The day passed slowly, and he did not come to her home that evening. She spent the evening packing a bag, just in case she needed to leave. She picked the things that meant the most to her; the rest Sherlock could go through, do with what he wished. The one thing she was thankful for was that she still showed up in mirrors and photographs, and she had a picture of the two of them together. She would always have proof that she had loved and been loved if she needed to flee.
The next day she did not need to work, and spent her time trying to find things to do. There was no amount of distraction that could save her from her thoughts, however, and she would sink into a melancholy state as soon as she finished whatever it was she was doing, at least until she started to do something else. Finally around five there was a knock at her door. She looked through the peephole and saw not only Sherlock standing there but John as well. She threw open the door and looked at Sherlock. "Why is he here?" she asked.
"He figured it out on his own," he said, raising his hands. "He wanted to help."
"How did you figure it out?" Molly asked John, her eyes wide.
"It's not so much I figured it out as it is Sherlock talks in his sleep," John said with a slightly amused grin. "And he has a nasty habit of falling asleep in the sitting room when he stays up all night for a case or an experiment. Over the last few months I pieced together enough to know the truth. I just never said anything about it until yesterday morning, when he said Moriarty was going to hurt you. Then I asked for the truth. Trust me, I pried it out of him. He really did not want to tell me without asking you first."
"And you're okay with it?" she asked, surprised.
"You're my friend, Molly. I wouldn't care if you were really a three headed alien from Mars. A vampire who doesn't actually hurt people is much better than that, I think."
She smiled at him, the first smile she had worn since her encounter with Sherlock. She reached over to hug him, and he held her close. "As long as you don't hate me."
"I could never hate you," John said. "But blimey, you really are cold as ice. I can feel it through your clothes."
"You get used to it," Sherlock said. "We have a plan. It's not the greatest plan, but I think I may have neuturalized his threat against you."
"How?" she asked.
"I may have done something a bit on the illegal side," Sherlock said. "The less you know the better. The point is, I have the evidence he was going to send, and I know who he has been calling. Even if he does call Sebastian Moran tonight there will be no proof that you are, in fact, a vampire, or that you killed your sire. It will only be your word against his, and Moriarty is not really in high regard with any of the local vampires."
"But I have David's pendant and ring," she said. "They'll want to know how I got them."
Sherlock reached into his pocket and held up a different pendant. "Apparently it is quite easy to find vampires in London, especially ones who are willing to do a trade. Give me the pendant you wear, and take off your ring."
She reached behind her neck and unclasped the pendant. She handed it to him, then tugged the ring off her finger. She handed that to him as well. He motioned for her to turn around and then he put the necklace on her. "All right. I told him I would stake him if this didn't work. Come with me to the window." Molly followed him. He slid the drapes open a bit so a sliver of sunlight came into the room. "Put your hand in the sun."
Hesitantly she did. Nothing happened. "It worked!" she exclaimed.
"Your sire was not very popular with the vampires here. The one I traded the pendant with, Jacob, will gladly say he killed your sire, not you, and he took the pendant as proof. Then he adopted you and gave you his pendant as a token of his."
"What about the ring?" she asked.
"The ring is yours to keep. He gave that to you as spoils of war, so to speak. David created you without your approval or consent, so it was only right you keep his ring." Sherlock turned to John and handed him the pendant. "You and Molly take this back to Jacob. He needs to meet her, to let her know all the details."
John nodded. "All right."
"Wait. What about you, Sherlock?" Molly asked, turning to Sherlock. "My problem is taken care of, yeah, but Moriarty is still out there and he still wants you dead."
"I will handle him," he said quietly.
"Sherlock, what are you going to do?" He looked away. "Sherlock, tell me. Now."
"I've already sent a message to him to meet me on the roof of St. Bart's. I'll be there in an hour, and I'll take him out. I will neuturalize the threat."
"He'll kill you if you go up there!" Molly said. "I'm not letting you go alone."
"No," Sherlock said. "I want you safe."
"Argue about this with me and I swear I'll lock you up somewhere and I'll go kill him myself," she said, crossing her arms. "Remember I'm stronger than you. I can put you in a room and bend an iron bar to keep you in there."
Sherlock looked at her, then at John. "John?" he asked, turning to his friend for help.
"I'm with her. It's suicide if you go up there alone. And frankly, I'll feel better if she's there." He held up the pendant. "I'll go give this to Jacob so he knows we kept our end of the bargain, but I think Molly should go with you. Back-up and all."
Sherlock looked back to her and then sighed. "Fine. I can see I am being outvoted here."
"Good," John said. He pocketed the pendant. "I'll tell Jacob we'll bring Molly around later tonight. You two be careful, all right?"
"I'll keep him safe," Molly said with a nod, reaching over for Sherlock's hand and grasping it. He threaded his fingers through hers and looked at her. She looked back. "I promise."
"See you both soon, then. Good luck." With that, John left.
"I wanted to keep you safe," Sherlock said quietly once the door had shut behind John.
"I have an eternity to get through, Sherlock. I want you to be there until you die of old age. I want you for as long as I can have you. I'm not going to lose you tonight, and that's final."
He gave her a faint smile. "You're incredibly stubborn, Molly Hooper."
"I look at that as one of my endearing traits. I don't give up on the people I love." She stepped closer to him and kissed him. "We'll both make it through this, even if I have to kill him myself."
"I don't want to have that happen. It's not in your nature." He reached up and caressed her cheek. "If anyone has to kill him I will."
"And then you'll spend the rest of your life in jail, and that's no good either," she pointed out. "You might not be able to claim self-defense if you're the one who told him to be up on the roof."
"I suppose you're right," he said with a sigh. "All right. We'll do this your way. Let's get going then. I want to be on that roof before he gets there."
She nodded. "All right."
They left her home then, and the cab ride to the hospital was fairly quiet. She did not let go of his hand except to get into the cab and get out of it. She took him to the employee area to get to the roof, and they made their way up there. When they opened the door Sherlock scanned the roof. "There is another entry point, correct?" Sherlock asked.
She nodded. "He probably won't be coming up this one."
"Then we'll stake out the other entrance. Be prepared for anything."
She nodded and they made their way to the other entrance. They had ten minutes to wait. At precisely six the door opened and Moriarty walked out on the roof. "You know, you ruined a perfectly good plan," he drawled, walking over to them.
"If I was able to ruin it then it wasn't a good plan," Sherlock said.
"You were always too clever for your own good," Moriarty replied. "I should have taken care of you ages ago."
"People who threaten the people I love do not usually have good endings," Sherlock said tensely.
"Love? You love this creature?" Moriarty began to laugh. "Oh, that's the best joke I've heard all day, that really is. You're an idiot, Sherlock. A sentimental idiot, and I never thought you would feel sentimental. I should have realized that at the pool." He shook his head now. "Doesn't matter, though. It would have been fun to play a great game with you, but frankly, I'm tired of you. I need to eliminate you." He raised a hand, and then Sherlock stumbled. Molly had heard the gunshot even though a silencer was used; acute hearing was also one of the senses she had developed. But she hadn't seen where it was coming from until after it was fired, when the barrel glinted in the setting sun's light. She stared down at Sherlock in shock. "And I believe that silver bullets will cause you pain, my dear Molly," Moriarty said, turning to her.
She knew where the sniper was now; even in the dim dusk light she could see him clearly now that she had seen his gun. As Moriarty raised his hand again she used her supernatural quickness and pulled Moriarty into her line of fire. The sniper fired the second shot but Molly used Moriarty as a human shield, and the shot went right into his heart. "You should have been faster," she said as he gaped at her. "Because I was." Blood trickled from the corner of Moriarty's mouth but he said nothing. She could hear him take his last breath and she dropped him to the ground before going back to Sherlock. "Sherlock," she said quietly. "Please tell me you have bulletproof armor on or something. Please."
"No…such luck," he said, gasping for breath. "I should have, though."
"I can't let you die!" she said, panic stricken. "I need you. I can't lose you."
"You are safe," he said. "That's all that matters."
"No. No! I won't accept this!" she said.
"The only thing you can do is turn me, and you swore you wouldn't do that," he said, his eyes fluttering closed.
"I will do it if that's what you want," she said, tears slipping down her face. "But only if you want me to. I love you, but this is a hard life. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."
"I would be with you. That would be enough."
She looked at him, then propped him up more. She leaned down towards his neck, pressing a kiss to his pulse point. Then she changed to her vamp face and bit into his neck. He had lost a lot of blood, so it didn't take long for her to get him to the point where he was nearly dead. She pulled away, then bit her own wrist and tore it open. She hoped she was doing this right, she thought as she pressed her wrist to Sherlock's mouth. He sucked on her wrist, then bit down. It hurt, but she knew it wasn't nearly as painful as what he was experiencing. Finally he pulled away. "Don't let me have done it wrong," she murmured.
She knew she had died before she came back, and it had taken hours. She picked him up quite easily, then looked around. There had to be a safe place she could take him. There would be no way she could take him in a cab anywhere, and while she thought she might be able to jump from rooftop to rooftop it was a far way to either of their homes. She set him back down and pulled out her phone. With shaking hands she called John. He picked up on the third ring. "Molly? How did it go?"
She looked at Sherlock and she tried not to cry. "Moriarty shot him, John. He was dying."
"Was?"
"He told me to turn him, but I don't know if I did it right. And now I don't know how to get off the roof."
There was some muffled speaking on John's end, and then John was back. "I'm still with Jacob. He has a car. We'll be there in a half hour. Let me put him on the phone with you for a moment, all right?"
"All right."
She waited less than a minute, and then a man spoke. "Molly," Jacob said, his voice smooth as velvet and low like Sherlock's. "What exactly did you do?"
"I did what I rememberd David did to me. I drained him until he was almost dead and then I made him drink my blood."
"Did he stop drinking on his own accord?"
"Yes."
"Does he still have a pulse?"
Molly shifted her hold on the phone and felt for his pulse. Her heart sank slightly as she felt nothing. "No. He doesn't have a pulse."
"This is good, Molly. If he drank your blood to his fill, he will turn. Are you sure this is what he wanted?"
"Yes, he told me so."
"All right. Normally we do not create children, or at least if we do we get their consent. He consented, so no one will come after you for this. I just hope he knows what he's getting into."
"He'll be fine?"
"Tomorrow evening he'll be just like you. Do you have the ring still?"
"Yes, I do."
"Find a finger of his where it fits and slip it on. That will protect him and allow him to go out in the sun. We will come get you in about thirty minutes. Do you have enough blood for the both of you? He will be hungry when he wakes up tomorrow."
"I can get some more when I go downstairs."
"Good. I believe you will be a better sire than your own was. Even so, you are still young. There is much I can teach the both of you. Lessons will start as soon as he wakes up."
"Thank you," Molly said gratefully.
"Don't worry. Everything will be fine. We will be there soon."
"All right. I'll see you in a half hour." She hung up then and watched as the sun set on the horizon. This had not gone according to plan at all, but, perhaps, everything was going to be all right after all.
Jacob was not at all how she had pictured him from their brief conversation on the phone. He looked young, no more than twenty, and had shaggy blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He was the first to come up to the roof. He looked at the scene, then got on his phone and made a call. When he was finished he picked Sherlock up easily and carried him back to the employee stairwell with John and Molly following. Molly went and discreetly picked up some blood bags and snuck them out with her, and then the four of them went to Molly's home.
She and Jacob talked long into the night while John watched over Sherlock. He told her many things she needed to know, many of the things her own sire had not told her about. She listened patiently and asked questions, and the conversation lasted until the morning broke. Jacob said he would be back later to check on Sherlock, and then he left. Molly went into her bedroom and saw John was sitting in her vanity chair next to the bed, his head on his arms which were on the mattress. She had already called into work that morning and so she got on the other side of the bed and waited for a bit before finally slipping into sleep.
She woke up five hours later and smelled coffee in her kitchen. Sherlock was still motionless and cold to the touch, and she tried to make him more comfortable before going out to John. He was sitting at her table, coffee in hand. "I'm surprised you have food," he said.
"I can still eat food," she said with a smile. "I can enjoy it. It just doesn't give me nourishment. I don't need more than two bags of blood a day, though. It goes a long way." Then she frowned slightly. "There's no way I'll be able to take enough blood from the hospital for both of us, though. I'll have to find another way."
"Jacob was saying something about donors. Humans who allow vampires to drink from them. Maybe I could be a donor to the two of you."
"One of us, maybe," Molly said. "I don't think you'd have enough blood for both of us, and it wouldn't be right to ask."
"You're not asking. I'm offering. If one of you drinks in the morning and one at night you still only need two bags of blood," he pointed out.
"I suppose. We'll have to ask Sherlock when he wakes up." She went to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup. "I can't believe it all happened like this. This isn't what I wanted at all."
"I know. But at least you'll have each other," John said before taking a sip of his coffee. "I only helped him so much. He really stopped being a human robot when the two of you started dating. That was the most normal I've ever seen him."
"But you started the process," she said, bringing her coffee to the table.
"And you finished it."
"And then I stuck him with this life," she said with a sigh.
"I think if the positions were reversed, if you were the human and he was the vampire, he would have done the same. Not out of selfishness, but because you would ask him to. I know this isn't the life you chose, but he did. And I think after knowing your secret for nearly a year and a half he was making an informed decision."
"I suppose you're right," she said.
"What happened to Moriarty's body?" John asked.
"Jacob had it disposed of. He also sent people to look for the sniper but so far no sign of him has been found. There weren't even bullet casing where he was. It's like he's a ghost." She took a sip of her coffee, then leaned back in her chair more. "There is so much I didn't know, so much I have to learn. At least Jacob is patient. I think he's going to need it to deal with Sherlock."
John chuckled slightly. "Do you know how old he is?"
"He was turned in the 1700s, I believe," Molly said. "He's the vampire in charge here in London, or so I got that feeling."
"If he's that old then you're in fine hands." He looked at her fridge. "Any chance I could make myself some breakfast?"
She nodded. "Help yourself. I'll keep you company as you cook."
John got up and began puttering in the kitchen. The two of them talked, and when they ran out of things to talk about Molly suggested they watch some movies. They settled in, and while things appeared to be calm she was incredibly tense. Jacob had given her no clue how long it would take for Sherlock to wake up, and as more hours passed the more anxious she got. Finally at four she heard a sound from her bedroom. "He's awake," she said quietly.
"How could you tell?" John asked.
She pointed to her ear. "Acute sense of hearing. Want to go see how he's doing?"
"Not until after he's had blood," John said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, that's probably safer." She got up from her sofa and went to the refrigerator, taking out two bags of blood. She then went into her room and saw Sherlock sitting on the bed, his feet on the floor. "Here. You must be hungry," she said, handing him one of the bags.
"Ravenous," he replied, taking the bag. He was still in vamp mode. Hopefully she could teach him how to change his face before John came in. He bit into the bag and began to drink the blood as she sat next to him. He drained the first back and she handed him the second one, which he also drained quickly. When he was done he looked at her. "I think that should do for now."
"Good." She looked at him. "Are you sure you made the right choice, Sherlock?"
He nodded slowly. "I didn't want to die up there. Not when there was still so much of a future left with you. If our positions were reversed I'm sure I would have done the same."
"John said that, too," she replied with a slight smile.
"Is he here?"
She nodded. "He's been here since we brought you here last night. But let me show you how to go back to a normal face before you go see him. I still haven't shown him what the vamp face looks like. Ready?"
"Yes," he said with a slight nod. She showed him how she did it and walked him through it. Within a half hour he seemed to have gotten the hang of it. Once he looked like normal again they stood up. Molly reached over for his hand and laced her fingers with his. "I suppose it's time to go show him I'm alive and well." He paused. "That sounded better in my head."
She chuckled slightly. "I get what you mean. Come on. Let's go show him you're all right." She walked out of the room first and he followed close behind. John looked up and grinned at Sherlock. "As you can see, he's up and moving again."
"That's good," John said, his grin growing wider. "How do you feel?"
"Very strange. But I suppose I'll get used to it." He looked over at Molly. "Thank you, for this."
"You're welcome." She grinned at him, then turned to John. "I think there's some things we need to talk about. Why don't you start making yourself dinner and we'll talk?"
"All right," John said with a nod, standing up. Molly let go of Sherlock's hand as John came up and embraced him roughly. Then the two of them made their way into the kitchen as she watched. This hadn't gone the way she had hoped, not by a long shot, but at least there would hopefully be a good outcome. And, she thought to herself, at least they wouldn't do it alone. They had each other, and that just might be enough.
Title: The Vampire & The Detective
A gift for: For the Community
Characters/Pairing: Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Jim Moriarty, John Watson, OMC
Category: Het/Gen
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Major character death
Summary: Molly Hooper was a vampire, a fact she kept hidden from the world at large. But Sherlock Holmes is a genius, so of course he's going to figure it out. But his reaction is surprising, and from that Molly finds their relationship changing. When Moriarty puts it and her existence in jeopardy, however, decisions are made that have life-changing consequences for the two of them.
Author's Notes: My recipient mentioned they liked vamp!lock and this idea just kind of bubbled forth. I hope they don't mind that Molly is the vampire instead of Sherlock, but it just worked better for the story.
Molly Hooper hadn't been a vampire for very long when she had met Sherlock Holmes. Maybe nine months, a year at most, something like that. She'd gone out to celebrate her new post at St. Bartholomew's and went home with the wrong guy. She was honestly surprised he hadn't just left her for dead. The fact he had drained her and turned her was what had been the most shocking even of her life, and she had been very shocked to wake up the next evening. David was an arse. He wanted a harem of women to be at his beck and call. She was to be the first, he said. And then he went out during the day, and she wondered how he had done it because when she got a tiny sliver of sun on her bare arm it began to burn. She realized after a day or two of close study it was either the pendant or the ring. She resolved that she was going to off him and take them if it was the last thing she did.
He had a weakness for women. And while she wasn't the prettiest one he could have picked, he'd made a mistake thinking she was stupid. So she seduced him the third night after she'd come back, slipped a few sleeping pills in his drink and prayed they worked. Apparently they worked even better on a vampire than they did on a human. No matter what she did he didn't wake up. She took the pendant off from around his neck and pulled the ring off his finger. Now all she had to do was kill him. She'd watched all sorts of vampire movies. She knew that a stake to the heart would work, or cutting off his head. She couldn't guarantee he wouldn't wake up if she tried to hack off his head with the small butcher knife in the kitchen part of his flat so a stake to the heart it was. One of the unique and welcome traits she had gotten as one of the undead was strength that went above and beyond a human's. She was easily able to snap off a leg of the wooden coffee able he had, and while he was still passed out from the pills she drove the makeshift stake through his heart. He exploded in a cloud of dust. Good riddance to him, she had thought to herself. She put the pendant on and slipped on the ring and left, glad to put the place behind her.
Of course, he hadn't taught her how to be a vampire. She knew she wasn't going to kill anyone to survive; she had made an oath to be a doctor, even if it was just a pathologist, and if she took a life that would go against her very nature. She wasn't sure if bagged blood would work, but by the time she showed up for her first shift at work she was nearly ravenous. She found her way to where they were and sunk her fangs into one of the bags, drinking it up. Yes, she could survive this way. That was good. That made her feel better. She'd mastered going from what she called her vamp face to her regular face the first day after she was turned. That was one of the few things David had shown her. And while she had been a bit of a fashion fan when she was human, now that she wasn't she needed to be mousy, be plain, blend into the woodwork, so to speak. She couldn't afford to be singled out because being singled out meant being hunted. It could mean this second chance she had somehow gotten would be ripped away and she'd lose everything she had hoped for, everything she had worked so hard to get as a human. She couldn't let that happen.
She had been doing fine before Sherlock entered her life. The moment she met him, the moment DI Lestrade introduced them she knew he could be trouble. He noticed every tiny little detail of everything, and he surely could have noticed she wasn't exactly alive so easily that she would never stand a chance. He was the one who could bring the whole charade down. So she had to improvise. Make herself useful but push him away at the same time. The only way she could do that was to pretend to be infatuated with him, but in a subtle way. She'd had plenty of crushes, plenty of experience pining away for someone who wouldn't notice her. She could easily slip back into that with Sherlock. And it worked fairly well. Soon any calculating looks her gave were directed not at her but at the bodies she offered him. If he was studying her he was doing it so covertly that she couldn't tell. She breathed a sigh of relief over that. She was safe, or at least safer.
When John came into the picture it was still fairly easy to keep up the charade. And he became her friend, which she liked. Friends were something she sorely lacked, trying to keep herself apart from the world. Attachments were only going to cause her pain, she knew that, because they would all grow old and she would not. One day anyone she was close to would die and she would still look vibrant and young, not aging a day over thirty. It was going to break her heart when it happened, but for now she was not lonely. She appreciated John and all his attempts to make Sherlock more well rounded, more human. It didn't seem to be having much effect, but it was amusing to watch.
And then she met Jim and the whole thing nearly came crashing down. She had had no clue who he really was or why he was interested in her, but he had flirted and charmed and she had fallen for it hook, line and sinker. She had wanted so desperately to feel loved, to feel wanted. And it wasn't until the third date, the last one, when he finally kissed her. The curse of being a vampire is she was ice cold. She usually wore long sleeves and avoided touching people so that no one would tell; if it happened by accident she would always come up with some excuse, and people chose to accept it rather than think something else was wrong. But when he kissed her unexpectedly he got a perplexed look on his face and she knew right then she had to end it. So she ignored him, didn't respond to any attempts he made to talk to her, and soon he left her alone. It had been such a close call that she knew she couldn't risk it again. She couldn't fall for anyone, allow someone to get that close ever again. She needed to steel her heart and prepare to be alone for the rest of her afterlife.
The problem was the ruse to fancy Sherlock wasn't really a ruse anymore. She really did fancy him, as much of an arrogant arse as he could be. He was fascinating. Intriguing. Sexy as hell to boot, with his sharp cut suits and tight shirts and striking eyes. She had fallen for him, fallen hard, but she knew he would never accept her, never accept the fact that she really shouldn't be there. He would hold her out to study and she didn't want that. She wanted him, wanted him to love her, and she knew that that was an impossible dream. Still, she did hope, and when Christmas rolled around and John invited her to the party she decided that at the very least she should try and get him to notice her, just this once. Oh, the words had hurt, the callous words he said, but the genuine apology had been good. And then he had leaned in and kissed her cheek and she began to panic. He would realize she was freezing to the touch. Her secret would be out. When he pulled away he gave her a quizzical look, but then the moan was heard and she said it wasn't her and he retreated to his room. She had dodged a bullet right there.
Or so she had thought. Then there was the trip to the morgue and Sherlock identifying the body with the bashed in face and then he left, and his brother lingered for a moment. Then he was gone too and she had the space to think, to plan. She knew he would say something. He had to have noticed that something was unnatural about her. Now she just had to wait and see what lies she would have to come up with, whether she would have to pack up and run and leave this all behind. She just hoped if he was going to ruin it all for her that he at least gave her a head start to try and make a life somewhere else, or that he didn't kill her outright.
It was maybe three hours later, when she finally finished the autopsy on the woman he'd identified and a few others that were waiting that he returned. She hadn't heard him come in, and when she looked up from her paperwork she started slightly. He was standing in the doorway of her office, looking at her. "Sherlock! Oh, you startled me," she said, hoping she could play off her nervousness as being surprised by his sudden appearance.
"You were ice cold. When I kissed your cheek, you were cold, far colder than you should have been."
"I had just come in from outside," she said. "I was probably still chilled from that."
"No. You should have warmed up, at least a bit. You were freezing to the touch." He came into the office. "If I touch you now, I will probably feel that your skin is as cold as ice, won't I?"
"Don't," she said quietly. "Please, don't."
"Why are you cold?" he asked, moving closer. She stood up from her seat but he blocked the only way out. "Molly, what are you hiding?"
"You won't believe me if I told you," she said, wringing her hands slightly.
"Try me," he said, stopping and crossing his arms.
"I'm a vampire," she said after a moment's pause.
"There are no such things," he said, shaking his head.
"Yes, there are. I am one. Have been for almost two years. Do you want me to prove it to you?"
Sherlock nodded. "Yes." She concentrated and then morphed into her vamp face. Sherlock took a step back, his eyes wide. "You really are," he said quietly. "Unbelievable."
"And now it's all going to go to hell," she said, switching back to her normal face. "If you aren't going to kill me, at least let me leave before someone else finds out."
"How do you survive?" he asked.
"I filch blood bags here at the hospital. I made a vow not to feed off a human and not to kill anyone. And not to turn anyone, either."
"And how do you go out in the sun?"
She held up the pendant. "This and my ring keep me from burning up in the sun. I'm pretty sure I only need one or the other, but I keep them both close."
"This is..." he began.
"Horrible? Gross? So strange you want to turn me into a science experiment?"
"I was going to say fascinating," he said. "And I don't want to turn you into a science experiment."
"Why not? You love to study things. I'd be a perfect specimen to study and dissect and all of that."
"Frankly, no one would believe me," he said with just the barest hint of a grin. "And it isn't as though you hurt anyone. I would have noticed if there were bodies turning up that had been drained of blood. That would be the type of case that would get my attention."
"Oh," she said quietly. "So...now what?"
"I would like to talk to you more about this. It is true I am intrigued, but I believe conversations with you and the occasional observation will sate my curiosity."
"Will you keep my secret?" she asked, hope blooming for the first time since he kissed her cheek.
He nodded. "I will keep your secret, Molly."
"Thank you," she said, a relieved smile blossoming on her face.
"Tomorrow we will talk. Tonight I have other business to attend to." He nodded towards her. "Good night, Molly."
"Good night, Sherlock," she said, and then she watched him leave her office. She went back to her chair and sat down. That could have gone so much worse, she realized. She was incredibly lucky that Sherlock found it fascinating instead of repulsive. Now she just had to hope he really did keep her secret, or else it could all come crashing down on her.
He did come to the morgue the next evening, and she was ready. She had to work, but he worked around it, asking her questions as she did the paperwork from the autopsies she had performed earlier in the day. He had so many questions, and she didn't have answers for everything, but by the end of his time spent with her she had to admit he was taking it far better than she had expected. And to be honest, it felt good to have someone who knew the truth. Not having to hide it helped so much. That night turned into the first of several that they spent together, talking. The first few weeks it was mostly questions and observations, but soon it became times when they would talk about a variety of things. If she didn't know better, she would have sworn they were becoming friends. She liked the idea of Sherlock as a friend, even if she might want more, deep down in her heart. He was being nicer to her at the very least, and she liked this new side of him.
It had been maybe six months later when he disappeared for a time, and when he came back he made a beeline straight for her. "Sherlock!" she said when she opened her door. "You're back. It's good to see you."
"It's good to be home, I suppose," he replied.
"Do I want to know where you went to?" she asked, moving out of the way so he could come in.
"I had hoped to tell you. I can't let anyone else know, and since I hold your secret close I had hoped you might do the same for me," he said as he came into her home.
She shut the door behind him. "Of course. Anything you want to tell me will stay between us."
"You know the body I identified on Christmas?" he asked, looking around. She pointed to her sofa and he sat down.
"The woman with her face bashed in?" she asked, sitting next to him.
He nodded. "I lied that it was her. John can tell you that much; a few months back she broke into my home and I solved a puzzle for her and ruined a plan of Mycroft's. She tried to extort money from him but I thwarted that plan and she left with what she had and her life." He looked down at his hands. "Two weeks ago I was asked to decipher something sent to the government. The woman was to be executed by a terrorist group in the Middle East. I went to go rescue her and put her on the path to a new life somewhere else. I have only just returned."
"Who was she?" Molly asked.
"Irene Adler."
Her eyes went wide. "The dominatrix? The one who broke up that celebrity marriage a while back by being with the husband and the wife?"
He nodded. "One and the same."
"Wow," she said, leaning back into her sofa more. "That's...wow. Why did you save her?"
"If I hadn't taken her phone and cracked her password she would have had protection. It was partially my fault she was in that predicament."
"That's quite noble of you, Sherlock," Molly said with a smile. "She was very lucky to have met you."
"Yes, well, in order for her to pull this off no one must know she's alive, but I had to tell someone, and I thought you would understand," he said.
Molly reached over and touched his hand. He had gotten used to the temperature of her skin months ago, so when she touched him he didn't shudder. "I do. I promise I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you." He looked down at their hands. "She and I talked, before she left with new identification to start a new life."
"That must have been a thought provoking conversation," she said, her smile becoming more amused now."
He nodded. "She said I seemed lonely. I seemed...sad. And she asked what had happened to you."
"How did she know who I was in the first place?" she asked, surprised.
"At the Christmas party, she was across the street, spying on us with binoculars. She saw me kiss your cheek. That's why she sent the text message when she did." He looked up at Molly. "She wondered if you would let me get close to you. I told her you were my friend. She then asked me about you, and I told her about you, aside from the vampire part. When I was done she said if she didn't know any better she'd think I fancied you."
"Do you fancy me, Sherlock?" she asked quietly.
He looked back down at their hands. "I'm not sure. I know we are close. I am at least as close to you as I am John. And I have never been the type to express emotion, or even really feel them. But I do feel something for you. I do not know quite what it is, but I would like the chance to find out." He looked back up again, searching her face. "I suppose I'm trying to ask if you might feel remotely the same about me. If you do not, I under--" He didn't get to finish his sentence because Molly leaned in and pressed her lips against his. It took him a moment but then he relaxed into the kiss and kissed her back, even taking his hands from hers and caressing her cheek gently. She was fairly sure this was not his first kiss, but if it was he was doing marvelously. When they pulled apart he looked at her. "I will take that as confirmation you do, in fact, feel the same way."
"I do," she said with a smile. "Are you going to be okay with dating a vampire?"
"I will be," he said with a nod. "As long as you are okay with dating a regular human."
"I am." She moved closer to him. "I wouldn't mind doing that again, you know."
"Nor would I," he said with a slight smile, leaning in more. "I am glad you are taking a chance with me."
"I'm glad I am too," she said before he kissed her again. This was what she wanted, she thought to herself. There might be heartbreak later, and eventually it would end because all things do, but for now it was exactly what she wanted, and she wasn't going to let him go until she absolutely needed to.
She was happy. She was happier than she had been in a long time, since even before she was turned into a vampire. She knew it was too good to last. She and Sherlock had not exactly been hiding their relationship, but they hadn't been very public about it, either. For all intents and purposes, Sherlock was a bit of a celebrity. It would look very strange if he got older and she stayed the same, providing they were together that long. John knew, and John completely supported them and did his best to help them have privacy when he could. It was nice that there was someone who was supportive of them, even if he didn't know the whole story of hers. After the case in Dartmoor Sherlock had decided it might be best if he kept a lower profile, and she and John did everything they could to help with that. But still, Sherlock had fans. And one of them was someone Molly knew.
She was finishing up her shift at the hospital when she heard the morgue doors open. She hadn't been expecting Sherlock at all; they were going to meet at her flat in an hour. And unless it was another body she wasn't expecting someone from the hospital. She stood up and left her office, and saw a man standing with his back to her office. "May I help you?" she asked.
"How quickly you forgot me," the man said, and if she had had blood coursing through her veins it would have frozen at the voice. It was the last person she had dated before Sherlock. He turned, and she saw he wasn't in the T-shirt and khakis he had worn when they were dating, instead wearing a well cut suit. She knew who he really was; Sherlock had made sure she knew Jim from IT was really James Moriarty, and she knew she had to be careful. "Hello, Molly."
"Jim," she said, plastering a smile on her face. "It's been a long time."
"Yes, it has." He gave her a grin as well, but it resembled a shark more than anything else. She was distinctly uneasy. "I see you've moved on."
"Yes, I have a new boyfriend now."
"Oh, I know. I know Sherlock very well. You could say I'm a fan." He came closer. "I wonder, though. Why on earth would he date a vampire?"
"I'm not a vampire," she said, beginning to panic.
"I know a vampire when I touch one," he said. "You aren't the first one I've come across. Tell me, where's your sire?"
"He's gone," she said quietly.
"I see. And I take it you were the one to make him gone?" She nodded. "That's against the rules. I'm pretty sure you don't know about the rules, do you?"
"No, I don't," she said, trying to put on a brave face, fix her stance and try and project bravado. "Are you trying to intimidate me?"
"I was going to play a game with your boyfriend. Ruin his reputation and then force him to make a choice. It could have been so much fun to do that. But now I think I want to play a different game. I want you to kill him, Molly. Drain his body of blood for me and I won't turn you in to the vampires who could end you in a heartbeat."
"No. I won't do that," she said adamantly.
"Then say good-bye to your life here. You'll have to be on the run for the rest of your afterlife." He moved closer to her. "Of course, if you just drain him, leave his body somewhere public, we'll forget the whole thing. I'll forget I ever met you, and you can continue to exist here in London, at least until it gets to the point where you need to leave before the puny mortals get suspicious."
She was quiet, and then she looked at him defiantly. "What's to stop me from killing you right here and now?" she asked.
"I have it set up so that if I don't make a phone call every night your secret is sent to the right people. I won't tell you when I call or who I call or how your secret will get out. That would make things too easy. But just know if I don't make that call your happy life here goes bye-bye." He moved closer to her and extended his arm. In his hand was a simple white business card. "You have forty-eight hours. When you've killed him, call this number. And then poof! Your secret goes to my grave."
She took the card. "I hate you. I'll hunt you down for this."
"I'm sure you'll try," he said as he turned around and walked to the doors. When he got to them he paused and looked over his shoulder. "Oh. And when you kill him, make sure to tell him Jim Moriarty said hello." And with that, he left.
Molly looked over the card as tears began to spill down her face. She couldn't do it. She couldn't kill Sherlock. He had to take that smug bastard out, he had to find a way to stop him. She wouldn't kill him. She would just leave, spare him and start over somewhere else. She could do it. She had to do it. She finished up her duties with a heavy heart, then went home.
As was expected, Sherlock was there, waiting for her. He had a hopeful expression on his face as she got to her door and let them into her home, but when he saw her expression he frowned. "What's wrong, Molly?"
"I had a visitor at work today," she said, handing Sherlock the card. "Jim Moriarty wants me to kill you, or else he'll tell other vampires I killed my sire. Apparently you're not supposed to do that."
"I am sorry," he said, balling up his hand that held the card into a fist, crumpling the card. "I should have killed him at the pool. I should have found a way to stop him."
"I'm going to vanish. I'm going to leave. You have to promise me you'll stop him, Sherlock, all right?" She moved over to him. "I can't kill you. I won't do it. I don't care if I have to be on the run for the rest of my existence, I won't be the one to kill you."
Sherlock unclenched his fist and pulled her into an embrace. "How long do you have?"
"Forty-eight hours. He told me if he doesn't make a call every evening that he'll spill my secret. That's all he told me, too."
"That's not enough time," he murmured, his lips nestled near her ear. "I need more time."
"I'll leave, Sherlock," she said, resting her chin on his shoulder. "I'll leave and you'll be safe."
"But you won't." He pulled away. "I can't leave you to that fate."
"And I can't kill you," she said, tears slipping down her face. "We both know logically me leaving is the best course of action."
He brushed the tears away. "I will find another way out of this. Do you trust me?"
She nodded. "I trust you."
"Good." He leaned in and kissed her, and she responded back with a frantic need that usually was not in their kisses. He soon responded in kind. They had never shagged; the farthest they had gone was lying in bed and kissing. It had been nearly nine months since they had started this relationship but this was something she wasn't sure he would want. It's one thing to sleep with a warm-blooded woman; it was a completely other thing for a human to be with a vampire. But as he reached between them for the buttons of her shirt and began undoing them she realized it didn't matter to him.
When the buttons were undone he peeled her shirt away from her chest. She pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders and he shrugged out of it. Then she moved her hands to undo the buttons of his shirt, feeling her own hands shake. She was nervous, more nervous than she had thought she would be. He must have noticed because he stilled her hands after a moment. "I'm nervous," she said, looking up at him.
"There is no reason to be," he replied. "I will not hurt you."
"I know." She took a deep breath to steady herself and then began to work on the buttons again. She got them undone and touched his chest.
"You are not as cold as you usually are," he said.
"I ate before I came up here. For an hour or so there is blood in my veins, so I'm warmer to the touch."
He moved away from her to rid himself of his shirt. "I do not mind the cold."
"I know," she said with a slightly shy smile.
"Perhaps we should go to your bedroom," he said.
"All right." She took his hand and lead him to her room. As soon as she had shut the door behind them he pulled her close to him again. He kissed her, without as much need this time, and she kissed him back. He reached around to undo the clasp of her bra and she moved back slightly to get it off and let it fall to the floor. Then he pulled her close again and backed them towards the bed, turning them so the backs of her knees hit the mattress. When that happened she clung to him slightly, and then he lowered her to the bed. She moved farther up on the mattress and propped herself up on her elbows slightly. "What are you planning on doing?" she asked.
"If everything fails and you do have to leave, I want this to be something you remember," he said quietly. "I want to please you very much."
She smiled slightly at him, then beckoned for him to come closer. He did, draping himself over her. She lowered herself back onto the bed and framed his face with her hands. "Even if it wasn't quite perfect I would remember it well," she said before lifting her head up slightly and kissing him again. He kissed her back, taking one hand and running it lightly along her side. She responded by moving her hands from his face and letting her fingers glide along his back, feeling the taut muscles there.
He pulled away from the kiss after a few minutes and began to trail kisses down towards her neck. He nipped at her skin lightly and she moaned softly. Then he pulled away for a moment. "You did like that?"
"I did," she replied with a slight nod.
"If you want to bite me you may," he said.
"Like draw blood?" she asked, surprised. He nodded. "Sherlock, I don't feed off humans."
"I will admit, I have wondered what that would be like. And as you have already eaten, there would be less risk that you would hurt me."
"Are you sure?" she asked, reaching over to touch his face.
He nodded. "I am."
"After this. After this I will. I can bite you without drawing blood, I think, if you want me to do that now."
"All right." He made his way back to her, moving lower. He let his mouth cover the tip of her breast and he bit down. She arched up and moaned again, moving her hands to his back and lightly digging her nails into his skin. Then he trailed kisses along the valley of her breasts before he repeated his actions on the other side. Finally he pulled away and made his way lower, going across her flat stomach. When he got to the top of her pants he pulled away, his hands moving to the button. Once it was undone he pulled down the zipper, and she lifted her hips up so he could get them off. He pulled of her panties as well as her pants, leaving her naked. "You are exquisite," he replied.
She had enough blood left in her veins to blush slightly. "Thank you."
He nudged her legs apart slightly and she obliged. He positioned himself between them and moved forward, and she shuddered when she felt his tongue on her. He teased her for a moment, then slowly inserted one finger into her, then two, then a third. He began to move them in and out in a slow rhythm at first, but soon he increased the pace. She could feel herself tighten around them as he teased her clit gently with his teeth, and soon she was spiraling towards an orgasm. He continued until the spasms stopped, and then he pulled away from her.
He quickly stripped out of the remainder of his clothes, then came over to her, covering her. She moved her hands to his back as he leaned in and kissed her. She could taste herself on his lips, but soon he pulled away again. He positioned himself at her entrance and then pushed into her, filling her completely. She gasped slightly. It had been a long time for her before she was turned, and then she had been with no one in the years since. She had forgotten how good this felt. Slowly he pulled out of her and then thrust back inside after he pulled almost completely out. He built up a rhythm, and it was all she could do to hold on tight. Soon she felt the tension build again, stronger this time, and within moments she climaxed again. She could feel him come as well, and after he was done he stilled and then sagged slightly. The two of them were still entwined for a few moments before he pulled out of her completely. "Was it memorable?" he asked with a grin.
She laughed. "Yes. Yes, it certainly was." She kissed him softly. "The best I ever had."
"Good." He looked at her. "I will find a way to keep you here," he said softly, moving a hand to caress her cheek. "I promise."
"I know," she said softly. "I love you, you know."
"I believe I love you as well." She moved her head slightly and kissed his palm. "I do not want to lose you."
"You will eventually," she said, her smile dimming slightly.
"I would rather have it be later than now."
"Me too. But we may not get what we want."
He nodded, then got off of her. "I believe we should probably clean ourselves up."
"The shower will warm me up a bit too, you know," she said, her grin becoming less sad.
"Then this shower should be very interesting." He offered her his hand. "Shall we?"
She nodded and took his hand, letting him pull her up. If nothing else, if tonight was all she got, she was happy. She could leave him and know that, for at least one night, she had everything she could have ever wanted.
Sherlock left her home early the next morning. She had thought he would be cold sleeping next to her all night but he had not made a single complaint throughout the night. He left without waking her, leaving a note on the pillow. She read the note twice before she got ready for her day. It asked her to give him time, to let him figure out a way to keep Moriarty at bay and keep her from leaving. All he needed was what was left of the forty-eight hours. She would give him that. But if it looked as though he would have to die for Moriarty to be appeased she would run. She would run and never look back.
The day passed slowly, and he did not come to her home that evening. She spent the evening packing a bag, just in case she needed to leave. She picked the things that meant the most to her; the rest Sherlock could go through, do with what he wished. The one thing she was thankful for was that she still showed up in mirrors and photographs, and she had a picture of the two of them together. She would always have proof that she had loved and been loved if she needed to flee.
The next day she did not need to work, and spent her time trying to find things to do. There was no amount of distraction that could save her from her thoughts, however, and she would sink into a melancholy state as soon as she finished whatever it was she was doing, at least until she started to do something else. Finally around five there was a knock at her door. She looked through the peephole and saw not only Sherlock standing there but John as well. She threw open the door and looked at Sherlock. "Why is he here?" she asked.
"He figured it out on his own," he said, raising his hands. "He wanted to help."
"How did you figure it out?" Molly asked John, her eyes wide.
"It's not so much I figured it out as it is Sherlock talks in his sleep," John said with a slightly amused grin. "And he has a nasty habit of falling asleep in the sitting room when he stays up all night for a case or an experiment. Over the last few months I pieced together enough to know the truth. I just never said anything about it until yesterday morning, when he said Moriarty was going to hurt you. Then I asked for the truth. Trust me, I pried it out of him. He really did not want to tell me without asking you first."
"And you're okay with it?" she asked, surprised.
"You're my friend, Molly. I wouldn't care if you were really a three headed alien from Mars. A vampire who doesn't actually hurt people is much better than that, I think."
She smiled at him, the first smile she had worn since her encounter with Sherlock. She reached over to hug him, and he held her close. "As long as you don't hate me."
"I could never hate you," John said. "But blimey, you really are cold as ice. I can feel it through your clothes."
"You get used to it," Sherlock said. "We have a plan. It's not the greatest plan, but I think I may have neuturalized his threat against you."
"How?" she asked.
"I may have done something a bit on the illegal side," Sherlock said. "The less you know the better. The point is, I have the evidence he was going to send, and I know who he has been calling. Even if he does call Sebastian Moran tonight there will be no proof that you are, in fact, a vampire, or that you killed your sire. It will only be your word against his, and Moriarty is not really in high regard with any of the local vampires."
"But I have David's pendant and ring," she said. "They'll want to know how I got them."
Sherlock reached into his pocket and held up a different pendant. "Apparently it is quite easy to find vampires in London, especially ones who are willing to do a trade. Give me the pendant you wear, and take off your ring."
She reached behind her neck and unclasped the pendant. She handed it to him, then tugged the ring off her finger. She handed that to him as well. He motioned for her to turn around and then he put the necklace on her. "All right. I told him I would stake him if this didn't work. Come with me to the window." Molly followed him. He slid the drapes open a bit so a sliver of sunlight came into the room. "Put your hand in the sun."
Hesitantly she did. Nothing happened. "It worked!" she exclaimed.
"Your sire was not very popular with the vampires here. The one I traded the pendant with, Jacob, will gladly say he killed your sire, not you, and he took the pendant as proof. Then he adopted you and gave you his pendant as a token of his."
"What about the ring?" she asked.
"The ring is yours to keep. He gave that to you as spoils of war, so to speak. David created you without your approval or consent, so it was only right you keep his ring." Sherlock turned to John and handed him the pendant. "You and Molly take this back to Jacob. He needs to meet her, to let her know all the details."
John nodded. "All right."
"Wait. What about you, Sherlock?" Molly asked, turning to Sherlock. "My problem is taken care of, yeah, but Moriarty is still out there and he still wants you dead."
"I will handle him," he said quietly.
"Sherlock, what are you going to do?" He looked away. "Sherlock, tell me. Now."
"I've already sent a message to him to meet me on the roof of St. Bart's. I'll be there in an hour, and I'll take him out. I will neuturalize the threat."
"He'll kill you if you go up there!" Molly said. "I'm not letting you go alone."
"No," Sherlock said. "I want you safe."
"Argue about this with me and I swear I'll lock you up somewhere and I'll go kill him myself," she said, crossing her arms. "Remember I'm stronger than you. I can put you in a room and bend an iron bar to keep you in there."
Sherlock looked at her, then at John. "John?" he asked, turning to his friend for help.
"I'm with her. It's suicide if you go up there alone. And frankly, I'll feel better if she's there." He held up the pendant. "I'll go give this to Jacob so he knows we kept our end of the bargain, but I think Molly should go with you. Back-up and all."
Sherlock looked back to her and then sighed. "Fine. I can see I am being outvoted here."
"Good," John said. He pocketed the pendant. "I'll tell Jacob we'll bring Molly around later tonight. You two be careful, all right?"
"I'll keep him safe," Molly said with a nod, reaching over for Sherlock's hand and grasping it. He threaded his fingers through hers and looked at her. She looked back. "I promise."
"See you both soon, then. Good luck." With that, John left.
"I wanted to keep you safe," Sherlock said quietly once the door had shut behind John.
"I have an eternity to get through, Sherlock. I want you to be there until you die of old age. I want you for as long as I can have you. I'm not going to lose you tonight, and that's final."
He gave her a faint smile. "You're incredibly stubborn, Molly Hooper."
"I look at that as one of my endearing traits. I don't give up on the people I love." She stepped closer to him and kissed him. "We'll both make it through this, even if I have to kill him myself."
"I don't want to have that happen. It's not in your nature." He reached up and caressed her cheek. "If anyone has to kill him I will."
"And then you'll spend the rest of your life in jail, and that's no good either," she pointed out. "You might not be able to claim self-defense if you're the one who told him to be up on the roof."
"I suppose you're right," he said with a sigh. "All right. We'll do this your way. Let's get going then. I want to be on that roof before he gets there."
She nodded. "All right."
They left her home then, and the cab ride to the hospital was fairly quiet. She did not let go of his hand except to get into the cab and get out of it. She took him to the employee area to get to the roof, and they made their way up there. When they opened the door Sherlock scanned the roof. "There is another entry point, correct?" Sherlock asked.
She nodded. "He probably won't be coming up this one."
"Then we'll stake out the other entrance. Be prepared for anything."
She nodded and they made their way to the other entrance. They had ten minutes to wait. At precisely six the door opened and Moriarty walked out on the roof. "You know, you ruined a perfectly good plan," he drawled, walking over to them.
"If I was able to ruin it then it wasn't a good plan," Sherlock said.
"You were always too clever for your own good," Moriarty replied. "I should have taken care of you ages ago."
"People who threaten the people I love do not usually have good endings," Sherlock said tensely.
"Love? You love this creature?" Moriarty began to laugh. "Oh, that's the best joke I've heard all day, that really is. You're an idiot, Sherlock. A sentimental idiot, and I never thought you would feel sentimental. I should have realized that at the pool." He shook his head now. "Doesn't matter, though. It would have been fun to play a great game with you, but frankly, I'm tired of you. I need to eliminate you." He raised a hand, and then Sherlock stumbled. Molly had heard the gunshot even though a silencer was used; acute hearing was also one of the senses she had developed. But she hadn't seen where it was coming from until after it was fired, when the barrel glinted in the setting sun's light. She stared down at Sherlock in shock. "And I believe that silver bullets will cause you pain, my dear Molly," Moriarty said, turning to her.
She knew where the sniper was now; even in the dim dusk light she could see him clearly now that she had seen his gun. As Moriarty raised his hand again she used her supernatural quickness and pulled Moriarty into her line of fire. The sniper fired the second shot but Molly used Moriarty as a human shield, and the shot went right into his heart. "You should have been faster," she said as he gaped at her. "Because I was." Blood trickled from the corner of Moriarty's mouth but he said nothing. She could hear him take his last breath and she dropped him to the ground before going back to Sherlock. "Sherlock," she said quietly. "Please tell me you have bulletproof armor on or something. Please."
"No…such luck," he said, gasping for breath. "I should have, though."
"I can't let you die!" she said, panic stricken. "I need you. I can't lose you."
"You are safe," he said. "That's all that matters."
"No. No! I won't accept this!" she said.
"The only thing you can do is turn me, and you swore you wouldn't do that," he said, his eyes fluttering closed.
"I will do it if that's what you want," she said, tears slipping down her face. "But only if you want me to. I love you, but this is a hard life. I wouldn't wish it on anyone."
"I would be with you. That would be enough."
She looked at him, then propped him up more. She leaned down towards his neck, pressing a kiss to his pulse point. Then she changed to her vamp face and bit into his neck. He had lost a lot of blood, so it didn't take long for her to get him to the point where he was nearly dead. She pulled away, then bit her own wrist and tore it open. She hoped she was doing this right, she thought as she pressed her wrist to Sherlock's mouth. He sucked on her wrist, then bit down. It hurt, but she knew it wasn't nearly as painful as what he was experiencing. Finally he pulled away. "Don't let me have done it wrong," she murmured.
She knew she had died before she came back, and it had taken hours. She picked him up quite easily, then looked around. There had to be a safe place she could take him. There would be no way she could take him in a cab anywhere, and while she thought she might be able to jump from rooftop to rooftop it was a far way to either of their homes. She set him back down and pulled out her phone. With shaking hands she called John. He picked up on the third ring. "Molly? How did it go?"
She looked at Sherlock and she tried not to cry. "Moriarty shot him, John. He was dying."
"Was?"
"He told me to turn him, but I don't know if I did it right. And now I don't know how to get off the roof."
There was some muffled speaking on John's end, and then John was back. "I'm still with Jacob. He has a car. We'll be there in a half hour. Let me put him on the phone with you for a moment, all right?"
"All right."
She waited less than a minute, and then a man spoke. "Molly," Jacob said, his voice smooth as velvet and low like Sherlock's. "What exactly did you do?"
"I did what I rememberd David did to me. I drained him until he was almost dead and then I made him drink my blood."
"Did he stop drinking on his own accord?"
"Yes."
"Does he still have a pulse?"
Molly shifted her hold on the phone and felt for his pulse. Her heart sank slightly as she felt nothing. "No. He doesn't have a pulse."
"This is good, Molly. If he drank your blood to his fill, he will turn. Are you sure this is what he wanted?"
"Yes, he told me so."
"All right. Normally we do not create children, or at least if we do we get their consent. He consented, so no one will come after you for this. I just hope he knows what he's getting into."
"He'll be fine?"
"Tomorrow evening he'll be just like you. Do you have the ring still?"
"Yes, I do."
"Find a finger of his where it fits and slip it on. That will protect him and allow him to go out in the sun. We will come get you in about thirty minutes. Do you have enough blood for the both of you? He will be hungry when he wakes up tomorrow."
"I can get some more when I go downstairs."
"Good. I believe you will be a better sire than your own was. Even so, you are still young. There is much I can teach the both of you. Lessons will start as soon as he wakes up."
"Thank you," Molly said gratefully.
"Don't worry. Everything will be fine. We will be there soon."
"All right. I'll see you in a half hour." She hung up then and watched as the sun set on the horizon. This had not gone according to plan at all, but, perhaps, everything was going to be all right after all.
Jacob was not at all how she had pictured him from their brief conversation on the phone. He looked young, no more than twenty, and had shaggy blonde hair and piercing green eyes. He was the first to come up to the roof. He looked at the scene, then got on his phone and made a call. When he was finished he picked Sherlock up easily and carried him back to the employee stairwell with John and Molly following. Molly went and discreetly picked up some blood bags and snuck them out with her, and then the four of them went to Molly's home.
She and Jacob talked long into the night while John watched over Sherlock. He told her many things she needed to know, many of the things her own sire had not told her about. She listened patiently and asked questions, and the conversation lasted until the morning broke. Jacob said he would be back later to check on Sherlock, and then he left. Molly went into her bedroom and saw John was sitting in her vanity chair next to the bed, his head on his arms which were on the mattress. She had already called into work that morning and so she got on the other side of the bed and waited for a bit before finally slipping into sleep.
She woke up five hours later and smelled coffee in her kitchen. Sherlock was still motionless and cold to the touch, and she tried to make him more comfortable before going out to John. He was sitting at her table, coffee in hand. "I'm surprised you have food," he said.
"I can still eat food," she said with a smile. "I can enjoy it. It just doesn't give me nourishment. I don't need more than two bags of blood a day, though. It goes a long way." Then she frowned slightly. "There's no way I'll be able to take enough blood from the hospital for both of us, though. I'll have to find another way."
"Jacob was saying something about donors. Humans who allow vampires to drink from them. Maybe I could be a donor to the two of you."
"One of us, maybe," Molly said. "I don't think you'd have enough blood for both of us, and it wouldn't be right to ask."
"You're not asking. I'm offering. If one of you drinks in the morning and one at night you still only need two bags of blood," he pointed out.
"I suppose. We'll have to ask Sherlock when he wakes up." She went to the coffee maker and poured herself a cup. "I can't believe it all happened like this. This isn't what I wanted at all."
"I know. But at least you'll have each other," John said before taking a sip of his coffee. "I only helped him so much. He really stopped being a human robot when the two of you started dating. That was the most normal I've ever seen him."
"But you started the process," she said, bringing her coffee to the table.
"And you finished it."
"And then I stuck him with this life," she said with a sigh.
"I think if the positions were reversed, if you were the human and he was the vampire, he would have done the same. Not out of selfishness, but because you would ask him to. I know this isn't the life you chose, but he did. And I think after knowing your secret for nearly a year and a half he was making an informed decision."
"I suppose you're right," she said.
"What happened to Moriarty's body?" John asked.
"Jacob had it disposed of. He also sent people to look for the sniper but so far no sign of him has been found. There weren't even bullet casing where he was. It's like he's a ghost." She took a sip of her coffee, then leaned back in her chair more. "There is so much I didn't know, so much I have to learn. At least Jacob is patient. I think he's going to need it to deal with Sherlock."
John chuckled slightly. "Do you know how old he is?"
"He was turned in the 1700s, I believe," Molly said. "He's the vampire in charge here in London, or so I got that feeling."
"If he's that old then you're in fine hands." He looked at her fridge. "Any chance I could make myself some breakfast?"
She nodded. "Help yourself. I'll keep you company as you cook."
John got up and began puttering in the kitchen. The two of them talked, and when they ran out of things to talk about Molly suggested they watch some movies. They settled in, and while things appeared to be calm she was incredibly tense. Jacob had given her no clue how long it would take for Sherlock to wake up, and as more hours passed the more anxious she got. Finally at four she heard a sound from her bedroom. "He's awake," she said quietly.
"How could you tell?" John asked.
She pointed to her ear. "Acute sense of hearing. Want to go see how he's doing?"
"Not until after he's had blood," John said, shaking his head.
"Yeah, that's probably safer." She got up from her sofa and went to the refrigerator, taking out two bags of blood. She then went into her room and saw Sherlock sitting on the bed, his feet on the floor. "Here. You must be hungry," she said, handing him one of the bags.
"Ravenous," he replied, taking the bag. He was still in vamp mode. Hopefully she could teach him how to change his face before John came in. He bit into the bag and began to drink the blood as she sat next to him. He drained the first back and she handed him the second one, which he also drained quickly. When he was done he looked at her. "I think that should do for now."
"Good." She looked at him. "Are you sure you made the right choice, Sherlock?"
He nodded slowly. "I didn't want to die up there. Not when there was still so much of a future left with you. If our positions were reversed I'm sure I would have done the same."
"John said that, too," she replied with a slight smile.
"Is he here?"
She nodded. "He's been here since we brought you here last night. But let me show you how to go back to a normal face before you go see him. I still haven't shown him what the vamp face looks like. Ready?"
"Yes," he said with a slight nod. She showed him how she did it and walked him through it. Within a half hour he seemed to have gotten the hang of it. Once he looked like normal again they stood up. Molly reached over for his hand and laced her fingers with his. "I suppose it's time to go show him I'm alive and well." He paused. "That sounded better in my head."
She chuckled slightly. "I get what you mean. Come on. Let's go show him you're all right." She walked out of the room first and he followed close behind. John looked up and grinned at Sherlock. "As you can see, he's up and moving again."
"That's good," John said, his grin growing wider. "How do you feel?"
"Very strange. But I suppose I'll get used to it." He looked over at Molly. "Thank you, for this."
"You're welcome." She grinned at him, then turned to John. "I think there's some things we need to talk about. Why don't you start making yourself dinner and we'll talk?"
"All right," John said with a nod, standing up. Molly let go of Sherlock's hand as John came up and embraced him roughly. Then the two of them made their way into the kitchen as she watched. This hadn't gone the way she had hoped, not by a long shot, but at least there would hopefully be a good outcome. And, she thought to herself, at least they wouldn't do it alone. They had each other, and that just might be enough.