Rip Your Heart Out
A Sherlock Fan fiction
Disclaimer: I own nothing. This fic is a plot bunny inspired by Bram Stoker's Dracula the movie (1992);BBC Sherlock and From Hell a movie starring Johnny Depp about Jack the Ripper. It is a WIP. There will be minor spoilers through out for all three.I recommend seeing all of them. There will be gore, sex consensual and not, prostitution,blood drinking, murder,vampires,werewolves and character death. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!
London 1888
The gas street lamps of London spread their dim light across the cobbled streets. I came upon him shortly after midnight. Never in all my years had I seen such sorrow until a robe clad man mourned over his momentary marriage.
"Molly...no not you...my sweet...sweet girl...my darling Molly."
His baritone voice became heavy with unshed tears. His long body shielded most of her from my view as he lay folded over the corpse. Long,calloused fingers wove themselves into her brown tresses. Margret Hooper Holmes was barely a woman of seventeen when she captured the heart of Sherlock Vernet Holmes. To the public this was a mystery. Why would such an eligible bachelor of such fame fancy the plain faced daughter of the local butcher? She had absolutely nothing to give this gentleman. No title, no pedigree and no beauty had ever caught the detective's eye before this small sparrow of a woman. She was timid and always had her pert nose in a book. Molly was smart, gentle and did not seem to contain one bad quality. Molly never intentionally offended anyone. Sherlock was critical, sarcastic, posh, and went out of his way to shock and offend the population of London. She was his antithesis in every way. 'Oh was that the reason he loved her?'
The Ripper had struck again. This time he did not slaughter an unattractive whore. No, the death of this poor girl was personal. Scotland Yard proved a to be a building filled with bumbling idiots. Only this strange detective matched his agile mind. My James had been enthralled by Sherlock Holmes and had left me to my own devices much to my relief. From what my husband had described Mr. Sherlock Holmes and his powers of deduction I had expected a cold,calculated English gentleman. What I found was a broken little boy.
"You disappoint a lady Mister Holmes. " I purred out.
His dark curls shifted as he lifted his head from the curve of the dead girl's neck and glared in my direction. He clutched the girl impossibly tighter against his lean form. Her nightgown once snow-white dyed scarlet by her life blood.
"I assume the good Professor sent you to finish off the job? Well, Miss Adler your assistance is not needed. For I am already dead." I believed his words for I saw death in his once ever changing orbs. They shown a glassy gray. I knew with certainty they would never shift in color again. A feeling I had never experienced previously wrapped around me like a heavy cloak. Sherlock Holmes would live again. I would make sure of it.
"Do you wish to see your love again?" I asked.
His forehead creased in confusion.
"Do not torment us." He hissed from his spot on the stoop of 221B. Sherlock had buried his face in his wife's hair. His body shook with sobs.
"Would you trade your very soul to see her again?"I asked. This caught his attention.
"If I could Miss Alder...If only..."He whispered cradling his beloved's face in his large hands.
"I can make sure you see her again. You would become a monster with an incredible blood lust...a creature without the hope of salvation. You would be awakened from your blood lust only when you find your beloved. Then your lust for her will overtake the creature. You will become like us. "
I held an unneeded breath as I waited for his answer.
He looked into his beloved's hollow chocolate eyes and kissed her nose. "Do as you must demon."
A feral growl ripped through my throat. I pulled his head to the side by his beautiful hair. My sharp canines sheathed themselves in the delicate flesh of his neck. Sherlock Vernet Holmes breathed his last.