Hello, before we start I would like to give a few warnings.
WARNING: Some spoilers for the show all together, I can't promise that I won't include a season, but I want this to be around the beginning of season 3 and it will be heavily influenced by season 4, so if you haven't seen the last season then please don't read this yet.
To those who don't follow me, I am terrible at writing on a schedule, and I often take breaks for school because I lose motivation during the school semester.
May contain blood and gore, and some aspects of depression.
Okay, onto business: Yes, instead of writing or posting to Secrets, I have started a new fanfiction and polished the intro while I've been gone from fanfiction. I am better at posting to my stories if I have multiple of them, as if I have writers block for one, I can usually write on another one. In fact, in my breaks I usually have written other stories to improve my writing skills a little bit. So, here is one that I actually liked enough to post to fanfiction. Enjoy.
Chapter 1: Nothing is Impossible
Sherlock would never forget the night he was turned. If someone had told him he was going to become a monster before that night, he would brush them off. Before he was bitten, he didn't believe in any folklore or mythical creatures. They were supposed to be just that; mythical.
He had been tailing his suspect when the man collapsed on the ground and started writhing. Rain poured down on London, but the man on the ground was oblivious to it. Sherlock suspected drugs, and he wasn't usually wrong. He waited for the convulsions to end, but froze as the form started to change and grow. Sherlock glanced around the abandoned alleyway to search for cameras. He found none. He was alone. John hadn't come back to 221B like he had planned. Sherlock hadn't accounted for John moving on after he had "died".
Low growls came from the form on the ground, followed by snuffling. Sherlock finally broke out of his trance and sprinted down the narrow alley. The thing pounded after him, its hot breath ghosting down the back of his neck. Never in Sherlock's life had he been so terrified of anything. He now knew what a mouse felt right before a cat caught it and killed it. Sherlock was now prey to this ferocious beast; small and insignificant.
He was almost there; the end of the alleyway was within sight. Hope dared to rise in the detective as his feet slapped on the wet, dark concrete. Sherlock was wrong to hope as claws ripped down his back, pinning him on the ground. Sherlock shouted in agony, his whole world dissolving into white. And after large teeth sunk into his shoulder, his consciousness sunk into darkness.
Sorry it's so short, but it is an intro, after all. The chapters will definitely be longer in the future, but this seemed like an appropriate length.
I don't know the next time I will be posting, but let's aim for some time in June or early July, yes?
This chapter's questions:
What do you want to see out of this story?
What stereotypes should I avoid?
Do you have any suggestions to help me improve in my writing?