Sherlock had lost him again. Jumping from rooftop to fire escape, through open flat windows and out the startled occupants front doors, down stair cases, swirling through alley's dodging traffic. His heart was racing, he'd ripped the knee of his jeans along the way somewhere but now, he was beneath an overpass, lost to his partner completely. Sherlock had vanished. John bent over, gripping his knees as he heaved in gulp after gulp of cold night air, his lungs burning as he did his best to recover. He wasn't getting any younger, that certainly showed now a days. The killer they'd been chasing had struck four times this month, draining the victims near to the point of death of their blood using a tool that made the wound look like that of a vampire bite. Sherlock had been thrilled. It was so clever and elegant and positively mad. John had even been a bit impressed at the killer's creativity.

At first, John didn't realize there was someone watching him. When it came to his attention that in fact, someone had begun approaching him, their expensive heals clicking against cold concrete, he spun around to take in the sight of a rather bizzare looking woman. She was tall, in her heals, taller than John. Her frame was wiry, and whimsical in it's movements. She looked like the very wind personified. Her long blonde hair was frizzy, flowing all around her, half done up with a ribbon and half hanging down. Perhaps she could have been a model if she didn't look so homeless. She was stumbling in his direction, and she seemed crazed. John took a step away.

"Are you all right miss? I'm a doctor? I can help...?" John's slight unnerved feelings about the woman were seeping into his speech. What happened next was too fast for John to think straight. She was on him in a flurry of hair and clothes and she was biting him. As her teeth sank into his neck the only thing he could think was 'I really hope this woman doesn't have rabies.' but he was finding his whole body going weak quite quickly, while she seemed to grow stronger. He was paralyzed, couldn't move, and she was drinking his blood. It suddenly occurred to him that this woman was the killer and he was going to suffer the same fate as the others. It also occurred to him that he was starting to feel a bit high... This woman was insane to think herself a vampire.

"N-No... Stop..." John grunted weakly, trying to will his unresponsive body into action. It wasn't working. He groaned uncomfortably as his body grew cold and she dropped him gracelessly to the ground, wiping her mouth with her dainty fingers. John felt his extremities tingling pleasantly cool, and that terrified him.

"Shhhh..." she whispered, her voice arousing John a bit, much against his will. "Jus' let death take you, sweet fing..."

He groaned loudly, trying to move again, but he couldn't. His body was a useless mass against the hard ground. He felt amazing, yet horrified because he was now dying. He never imagined he'd go out like this, being drank to death by a crazy sodding twat under a London woman laughed, her voice sounded so far away yet it echoed in every part of his body. He squeezed his eyes shut for what felt like hours (hours of swimming feelings of panic, amusement, arousal, and anger) and didn't open them again until he felt hands on his face, covered in leather smell of his flatmate filled his senses so intensely that John could hardly breathe. It was so intense, so wonderful. Musky, sweet, and sort of gingery... Must have been his choice of aftershave. How John had never noticed it's pungent smell before was beyond him.

"John! John wake up! Don't die on me now John!"

John smiled softly, a fit of giggles leaving him at the sound of worry in his voice. Why should Sherlock worry? He felt fantastic. Ohhhhh, Sherlock. So the sod had realized that John had fallen behind. Bit too late really, thought John. Sherlock was tilting John's head to the side and he gasped when he saw the ring of teeth marks on John's neck. He shook his head emphatically as if it would make a difference, then gathered John up into his arms and cursed under his breath.

"We'll get you home John. Don't worry... I know I can fix this..." Sherlock whispered. John groaned as he was lifted over Sherlock's shoulder and then carried and dropped like a sack of potatoes into the back seat of a car. Lestrade's voice was quick to grace his ears. John's vision was blurred and vivd, swimming with colors he didn't even know existed.

"Shouldn't we be taking him to a hospital, Sherlock?"

John's head lolled about as Sherlock lifted him and slid beneath him in the car, letting John rest in his lap. John giggled a little as he mentally called Sherlock a 'bloody poof' and Sherlock merely flicked him against the tip of his nose, reading it in John's face immediately.

"Enough John. Rest." Sherlock scolded. "We can't take him to a hospital. The wound is identical to the other victims. A blood transfusion will only have the same results I'm certain... And I'd rather not watch John die a horrifyingly painful death whilst going completely mad."

Sherlock knew something that he wasn't revealing and so John was curious. The rest of the drive was tersely quiet and as soon as Sherlock had John up over his shoulder and inside the flat door, he slammed the paneling in Lestrade's face, carrying John upstairs. He deposited John on the couch and swept out of the room and there was clattering in the kitchen, low cursing, and a smell hit John's nose that made him groan with pleasure. That smell was beautiful and delicious. He arched his back involuntarily and moaned again as it consumed his senses. Sherlock came into the room a moment later with a wine glass full of dark red. The smell was coming from that glass and Sherlock seemed nervous, yet excited. The pure fascination that showed how not-bored Sherlock was made John a little giddy. The smell seemed enough to give John strength enough to sit up. It felt fluid and slow but Sherlock gasped and jumped back a bit.

"Bloody fucking... Damn John..." Sherlock hissed under his breath, having been startled. John's eyes were on that glass, which Sherlock slowly extended to him. John, without hesitation took it in his fingers and brought it to his lips, the taste of it as the thick liquid slid over his tongue was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. He moaned again, draining the glass quickly. His body grew hot, very hot in fact, and he felt strong enough to take on the world. His eyes flicked up to meet Sherlock's and Sherlock was riveted.

"Brilliant..." Sherlock whispered, kneeling before John, putting the pieces of the puzzle together that were lying before him. "Brilliant John! You're brilliant..."

John started to feel surprisingly normal again, his body calming, but his libido spiking a bit.

"What happened? What did you just give me...?" John inquired softly as Sherlock took his chin in hand and turned his head to the side to examine the wound.

"Amazing!" Sherlock cried. "It's completely healed! How fascinating..."

John waited a few moments as Sherlock's fingers ran over where he'd been bitten and counted down from ten in his head. When finally he reached one, his patience with Sherlock ran out.

"Sherlock!" John barked, the very power of his voice knocking Sherlock onto his back, but Sherlock didn't appear bothered in the least. In fact, this seemed to excite him more.

"John. Don't be alarmed, but I am quite certain you are no longer human..." Sherlock whispered, completely enraptured by the army doctor before him.

"What?" John asked incredulously, his brain working twice normal capacity as he now read what Sherlock was thinking right off the detective's face. "Sherlock I am not a vampire."

Sherlock scrambled to his feet and took John's face in his hands, grinning at him.

"Oh but John, I'm fairly positive that you are."

~tbc