Mycroft watched as his brother was dragged in and thrown non to gently into one of the safe rooms. He needed to detox, why he chose to feed on drug addicted humans was beyond the older Holmes.

The stink alone was off putting, he knew better than try and communicate with his younger kin, the last time he'd made that psychic connection and he came away with a bloody nose and a seizure for his troubles.

"He wont last if he keeps this up Mycroft. You should just end him and be done with it. The boy is damaged goods, a shame really he had such potential. However you see now what sentiment will buy you. Foolish child! It disgusts me knowing we carry the same blood, but his mother was weak."

"She was my mother as well brother."

Mycroft growled glaring at his older brother. Sherrinford Holmes shrugged "Well there was that."

Again the ginger haired vampire growled in warning, his sharp teeth threatening.

"Oh, please. Fine. So touchy about her. She was weak. Her kindness was like poison. Look what all that did to him-"

"and she was nothing like the woman who birthed you. Soulless and cruel. Having to be put down by her own sire."

"And yours was no better she put herself down. Walking out into the sun before she was well." Sherrinford snapped "Weak. Like him! And if I had the-"

"You will leave. He is my brother and I will not put him down like one of your dogs! "

"Fine, but mark my words brother dear, Sherlock is just another liability. If father were alive-"

"Ah, yes. Him. Well he's not alive and I do believe it was I who seized his power, thus making me the Head of our house. Not you brother. Me. So I suggest you return to your dog training."

" Oh speaking of training. How is our dear silver mutt doing? Such a shame you've let him run wild. If you would just give him to me for training. These Wolves have forgotten what it is to blood bonded to a family. He wouldn't be so defiant-."

The ginger haired vampire snarled showing his teeth in warning.

"Very well." Sherrinford turned on his heels, the expensive Italian leather shoes making no noise as he moved down the corridor, his hands thrust angrily into his dark suit pockets.

Mycroft continued to stand in front of the locked door his youngest brother was currently held in. There had to be a way to save him, or Sherrinford was right he would need to put Sherlock out of his misery.

"Sire." One of Mycroft's haflings approached her sharp black eyes focusing on the mobile in her hands. "The Detective Inspector is here for your five o'clock. Should I move the meeting?" Mycroft didn't glance back at the heavy door, reinforced with solid steel and glazed with silver it was made to keep a vampire in.

"No, I'll be there in a moment. Please be sure our guest is comfortable. " The dark haired vampire with ruby red lips and a black pin skirt suit nodded turning on her heels she was sure to keep up with the flow of information streaming through her phone.

~0~

Lestrade paced in front of the fireplace in the lavishly decorated sitting room. On any other day and in any other home he would allow himself to bask in the warmth.

However the many off putting scents that this place reeked of added to the unease that he was severely out numbered. The Alpha Wolf hated that the head of the Holmes Coven wished to speak to him here deep within the vamps territory. The Were was at a disadvantage but the treaty was in place and his bosses wished to keep communication between the Wolves and the Vamps open and well peaceful.

It was all just an illusion, Lestrade was well aware of the fact that England was controlled by the Vampires. The immortal blood suckers made his skin crawl and nose twitch.

After four hundred years he thought he would be used to the idea of peace but too much blood had been spilled in his younger years, on both sides for such a thing to truly be accepted.

Anyway how was there equality when the Vamps ran the government and Wolves were the enforcers of Vamp law. Leaving the mortals with the short end of the evolutionary stick.

Well at least they had a common enemy right now, an upstart by the name of Moran.

This bastard was something twisted and Lestrade had a theory that it wasn't just Moran behind the production of this new street drug. It was called HEMA, and the ones who used it were called Bleeders.

HEMA was made with the addictive blood of a vamp, and the crazy addicts were getting better and better at capturing Vamps. They would then bleed the poor soulless bastard. Laws were in place to make sharing blood with a human or even a wolf for any purposes healing included highly illegal. Something punishable by death. A Vamp could only share blood with the intention of turning the human or bonding with a Were.

The bonding of a Were to a Vamp was an old archaic and cruel tradition no longer practiced. Well at least it was frowned upon, Were's weren't slaves anymore in this new free era. Still it wasn't unheard of for a Wolf to be admitted (forced) into a Vamps family.

Were's had a long tradition of safeguarding the lands of Vampires and acting as their servants. Those days ended with the great Wars hundreds of years ago.

Lestrade knew he would rather be dead then forced into submission and obedience training. He served no one but the Yard and his pack. A bleeder took on the blood, fiend for it and slowly lost themselves to the siren's call. Unfortunately vampire blood wasn't meant for such consumption, after a few weeks the addict started to loose their hair, pigment in their eyes, then their teeth became sharp and jagged. Nothing like the delicate beauty of a vamp, more like a strung out junkie.

These Bleeders often wore all black with a red cuff on their bicep, idiots were proud of their addiction and the blood did make them crazy as well as strong.

After too long the bleeder started feeding on humans that's when things got messy. Lestrade and his pack at the yard were being pressured by the humans, and the vamps. Were's weren't targeted so they were being accused of being in league with the dealers.

The fragile peace was being threatened and Lestrade had a feeling that something needed to happen or all hell would break loose. He needed help and coming here was part of how bad it was getting. Lestrade needed to talk to the youngest Holmes.

He knew the young man was on his own downward spiral, addicted to less than clean humans. Yes there were still ordinary street drugs contaminating the systems of the fragile humans. Sherlock Holmes had been caught running a drug den, he helped the humans get high then he would sell said human to a vampire to feed off of.

It was the perfect scheme until Lestrade had caught wind and then Mycroft Holmes became involved. The Detective Inspector had six of his finest pack members in the hospital after they subdued the young strung out vamp. Lestrade had a feeling that the youngest Holmes could help lead them to Moran, the Vamp had connections after all. Now, Lestrade just had to convince Mycroft Holmes.

~0~

The vampire remained motionless in the dark of his prison; his eyes clasped shut as if he were sleeping. However Vampires didn't sleep, or rather this one did not.

Sleeping would bring dreams; dreams were solely a human condition, whereas nightmares, nightmares were what plagued the sleep of the immortal.

Sherlock knew he was a monster, and even now in this hellish prison locked in the unfurnished room, he felt the darkness of soul start to fester. Pushing at him and all he wished to do was silence it, he needed his fix needed more. The last addict he fed on wasn't enough. He needed more, needed to shut out the screaming that plagued him that weighed him down and kept him shackled to his hunger.