Chapter1 . The Hall of Death and Glory
The young girl shuddered as she was left in the great hall of Death and Glory. She knew what it meant; she knew what happened to humans brought to this terrible place, in front of the huge painting of the great hero and mastermind of the vampire revolution
The vampire guards had forced her to her knees before the throne. One had chuckled darkly,
"Pray he will be merciful little human and kill you quickly, he does so like to play with his food, especially when they are such pretty morsels".
One cold finger had caressed the side of her neck lingeringly, then tilted her head up towards the painting, where the words "Show No Mercy" were written boldly underneath his portrait.
"Too bad little one" he smirked
"She tried not to react, tried to suppress the pitiful whimper, but the vampires heard, and laughed, the second one leering at her as he added to her terror
"You should be honoured girl our lord has most particular tastes"
And then they had backed out in a ritualistic march after a long obeisance to the empty massive throne.
She was alone, her mind screaming at her to get up and run, but her body refusing to obey it. The frantic trembling had left her legs too weak, she was so tired and hungry she could barely restrain her complete collapse. But she didn't dare move, she knew she was being watched although she couldn't see them and they would be ready to pounce on and punish any disobedience.
She used her arms to try to keep her balance and remain upright. She kept her head down, slow tears dripping on to the dark parquet floor.
The mere mention of this vampire's name in the camps could stop a weak heart, would make strong men tremble and terrify the starving children into silence.
The whispered rumours of his uncanny ability to know everything, his coldness, his cruelty and his blood lust created a fear so strong it was tangible.
It was always rumours for there was no human who had survived an encounter with him and returned to tell the tale. When you were taken to the great hall you never came back. It was the Hall of Glory for the Vampires but the Hall of Death for everyone else.
She thought of her family in the camp, she saw their despairing eyes as they stared hopelessly making no effort to try to stop her removal and then watched her being taken out through the metal gates of eternal pain. She didn't blame them, there was nothing they could do, they would have been cut down where they stood and she would still have been taken.
The repercussions for the whole camp would have been viciously extreme if they had resisted. In one of the northern camps as an act of retribution they had taken all the children under five and left them hanging on the high barbed wire, alive, flesh pierced by the brutal spikes, screaming for their mothers, blood dripping from their wounds until they died in front of weeping and wailing parents.
No mercy was his motto and it was never ever broken
There had been no resistance to his will for a very, very long time, since long before she was born. The humans had capitulated first, not able to withstand the mental emotional and physical onslaught unleashed upon them. There had been no real resistance since they had rounded up all the werewolves and broken them in the bloody fight arenas. Now the only living Weres were the ones that served him and they were more vicious than his vampire guards.
They were led by a formidable soldier who never left his side. He walked with a limp, he had scars upon scars and he would rip the living heart out of anyone who dared to threaten his lord, be they Vampire, Were or Human.
It was said he had killed his own pregnant mate for a jealous attempt on the Lord's life.
Oh God, if these were her last moments of life she didn't want to spend them remembering horror stories, when they came for her it would be horror enough.
She wasn't brave, she wasn't a fighter. She didn't even have the courage to look the vampires in the face when they had taken her from the camp.
She was just a scared little girl who was going to be gobbled up by the monsters.
She wanted to think of something good, something beautiful and something happy before her life was ripped from her.
Sometimes when things got too hard in the camps, when she was too hungry or so full of despair that she couldn't sleep, she could escape into her dreams.
She could look wide awake but be safely hidden in her mind, going to fascinating places she had heard the old people talk about, and her favourite was the seaside.
She had never seen the sea but she had heard an old lady talk about it, about walking with bare feet through soft crunchy warm sand, About standing at the edge of the beach and waiting for the sea, no it was called surf, to surge up over her toes, and feel it surge back again. About watching sea gulls swoop and dive and call in the breeze of the blue, blue sky.
That's where she would go before they came for her. She would walk on a beautiful sandy beach and paddle in the blue sea in a place where there were no monsters and no camps, and no foul smell of blood and bodily fluids, decay and death.
She deliberately sank back on to her heels, and relaxed her shoulders, her hands came up and rested on her thighs, she brought her head up and began to slow her breathing, calming her body's trembling.
She looked up at the great throne before her and fixed her gaze on the intricate pattern in the deep purple velvet, until it dropped away into nothingness and to her delight she was standing beside the sea, the soft breeze was tickling her neck, and playing with her dirty blonde curls, she could feel the warmth of the sun on her bare arms, and see it glinting on the playful lapping waves.
She could even smell the sea, wild and fresh. She could just walk into the sea and wash off the stink of her life.
A small smile grew upon her lips as she took the beautiful scent deep into her lungs..
The watcher had observed the dirty thin trembling terrified child since she had been left by the guards. He felt no pity any more, but he wondered at his lord's choice this time. His lord was not normally given to feasting on such young humans but he supposed even vampires needed a change in diet sometimes.
In truth, he had begun to be worried about his lord's recent lack appetite; it had nearly become as bad as when he orchestrated the last great battle against the humans.
He didn't like to eat when he was busy, claiming it interfered with the workings of his incredible mind. But when he refused to eat, he became physically weakened, although it would be a foolish simpleton who ever believed that the Vampire who had crushed the British Isles was ever weak or unprotected.
Lately his lord had been engrossed in another matter, something he had not shared with him, but the watcher was glad, when his lord was bored he took stupid risks, the likes of which nearly stopped his faithful protector's heart with fear.
Once a very long time ago, he had lost him, had been unable to stop what he had thought was his death at the time, it had broken something in him, nearly destroyed him and when his lord had come back, he had sworn it would never happen again. He made sure it would never happen again, and all obstacles were ruthlessly despatched.
Most times with pleasure, sometimes there had been pity, once there had even been pain but nothing was allowed to endanger his lord.
His instinct for danger began to make itself felt as he watched the half starved weeping trembling pathetic young girl take control of herself, as he watched her resettle herself into a relaxed posture which was similar to the one adopted by his lord when he visited his mind palace, and when the tears falling from her wide open unfocussed eyes were joined by what could only be a smile of wonder on her lips.
He straightened his shoulders, and touched each of his weapons in turn for reassurance. The child would be dead before she could draw her next breath at the first sign of danger to his lord and master.
"Problem John" the deep hypnotic baritone voice he loved asked him with amused curiosity.
"I'm not sure your dinner is going to agree with you Sherlock" he answered curtly, refusing to remove his eyes from the kneeling girl.
The vampire lord of the British Isles turned his terrible gaze upon the offering from his guards and smiled.
AN: Disclaimer: No copy write infringement intended. The BBC's Being Human and Sherlock belong to the BBC, T Whitehouse, M Gatiss and S Moffat. and ACD
Why a crossover did you ask? Well if it's good enough for Mr Gatiss and believe me it was more than good enough, he was fabulous in both, then it's good enough for me. And there was a bit of a precedent for a dark Sherlock , take a look in Sherlock's eyes when he tossed the CIA man out the window, again and again for daring to hurt Mrs H.! And not forgetting cuddly jam and kittens John shot a man in cold blood because Sherlock was threatened.
Please tell me what you think.