Nightwalker
The case had been extremely dull, obvious and boring in Sherlock's eyes... He had taken it for a mere distraction from life nothing more. A killer puncturing the victim's necks and letting them bleed out on the floor through the perfectly placed identical holes. A person obsessed with the occult, acting out their diseased and strange desires through murder.
Sherlock looked into the dingy blackness. Without much difficulty he'd found the "vampires" lair, an underground sewer, full of rats and faeces. The person was stereotypical if nothing else. The gun raised slowly in his hand, the other fumbling in his coat pocket for a tiny torch he'd brought. It clicked on quietly.
Unbeknownst to Sherlock, in the darkness a few miles away, a person feasting on their latest kill looked up at the noise, a wan smile appearing on their lips, hiding the elongated fangs beneath their lips.
Sherlock didn't see, hear or even sense the woman behind him before; she clasped her hands around his neck. He yelped as the hands pressed on his pulse point searching for the blood that was thundering loudly through his veins. A cackling laugh echoed from behind him. Sherlock suddenly began doubting his hypothesis of a copy cat killer.
"I recognise your scent Sherlock Holmes" she cackled, her pointed nails running circles around his cheek. She dug her lengthened nails in causing the blood to rush to the surface and the detective to cry out with pain.
"You've been following me for days now. Can't have that..." she growled spinning the detective around to meet his eyes. The stormy grey eyes of the man widened at the women's shocking red ones, the pointed and elongated fangs and the look of pure evil and bloodlust on her face. Sherlock didn't even have time to react as the woman's mouth enclosed over his neck.
There was pain. Tearing. Unimaginable pain, as the woman's teeth pierced his skin and his life's blood poured out of the two small holes now created in his neck. Sherlock cried out trying to prise the woman off him, but she held him tight, his flailing and fighting hands in one and his neck in another, both parts of him encased in hands with talon like nails adorning them. The woman gulped, beneath his ear.
She released her grip, cackling wildly as the detective fell limply to the ground. He gasped, clasping a hand to his aching neck, feeling the blood push through his fingertips at each pump of his heart. His head began to ache, his eyesight became blurry. His heart was beginning to putter in his chest, failing to pump due to the lack of blood in his system. He gasped, feeling his body starting to heat up.
"WHATS HAPPENING!" he screamed in pain, as painful tremors began to rack through his lithe body. The woman's face hovered over his.
"Your changing Mr Holmes- the venom is wracking through your body as it did with mine all those years ago" she hissed her face ever so close to Sherlock's. He growled grasping upwards, a vain attempt to capture the woman and snap her neck clean in two. She darted away, appearing on the other side of him in the blink of an eye. She laughed that spine prickling laugh again.
"But I won't let it change you Sherlock... could you imagine? Your natural- talents enhanced by vampiric senses?" she asked, bending over Sherlock once more. His face paled as her fangs elongated even more, his blood still fresh on them forming tiny droplets on the pointed tip. He swiped at her again, but she pinned him down, her light frame suddenly strong as she straddled his chest and held his arms above his head with a single hand.
She ran her tongue across his neck, licking away the fresh blood and inhaling his scent as he'd seen his father and Mycroft do with a vintage wine. His face paled a further two shades in the darkness, his blood rushing from his face in sheer panic. The woman smiled down at him, the smile of an angel with the intent of the devil.
"Goodbye Sherlock Holmes" she whispered enclosing her mouth over his neck. And Sherlock screamed, his vision fading into blackness.