Jim Moriarty weaved his way through the playing children, drunk on the smell in the air. He loved children; the way they smelled, so fresh, so innocent. Their blood was always so pure, tantalizing on his tongue. It took every bit of his immeasurable self-control to stay on task. He allowed himself on deep inhale before pressing on.
He found the gold haired boy sitting by himself on the swing set, his feet dragging in the mud. Jim sat down on the swing next to him, matching the boy's small movements so their swings moved together. "Why do you look so sad?" he asked the small child.
"Stupid Harry won't let me play with her and her friends. She says I get in the way." The boy said, kicking the mud so a chunk of it went sailing across the grass and landed with a plop.
"Older sisters can be such a bother." Jim agreed even though he'd never actually had any sisters. But he did have Irene, who was annoying and meddlesome like an older sister. "Don't you have any friends of your own to play with?"
"No." the boy looked down at his shoes in embarrassment. "We moved here a month ago. Harry's managed to make lots of friends and I haven't made any."
"Well perhaps you and I could be friends." Jim suggested with the kindest smile he could manage. It was mostly all teeth and John took a step back. Jim made a mental note not to smile so much.
"Mum says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." John grumbled, digging the toe of his trainer into the mud.
"Jim Moriarty." He held out his hand to the boy. "Hi."
"John Watson." The boy replied, shaking his hand politely.
"There, now we're no longer strangers."
"Yeah, I suppose not." John gave him a tentative smile. "So you'll be my friend?"
"Sounds fun." Jim grinned at him, carefully hiding his teeth. "So what would you like to do John?"
John tiny brow furrowed as he seriously contemplated it. "Want to see who can swing higher?" John finally asked, unsure of what else to say.
"You're on Johnny boy." Jim held out his hand and John shook it with a slight nod. They both grabbed the chains of their swings and began pumping their legs. John's face was a mask of concentration as he stuck out his tongue and tried to move his short legs.
Jim's longer legs made it easier to get in the lead. He watched as John worked harder, gritting his teeth in determination. He couldn't help admiring the little lad. John was definitely going to be interesting and Jim would enjoy destroying that strong resolve bit by bit. He could see how John was the one he was looking for.
They both swung higher to the point where they were almost parallel with the ground. John was whooping and laughing, overjoyed at having someone to play with.
Jim forfeited, declaring John the winner. As John tried to slow the movement of his swing, his foot got caught in the mud. He tumbled forward and rolled along the wet grass.
Moriarty was off his swing in seconds and over to John. He grabbed his arm to help him up and his nostrils flared at the smell of blood hitting the air. His fangs descended immediately as he saw the small cut on the boy's forehead. With great pain he pushed them back up. It wouldn't do to frighten the boy.
"That was brilliant!" John exclaimed, rubbing his muddy hands on his already dirty jeans. He was beaming widely up at Jim. He could hear John's heart racing, his blood pumping through his veins at double time. It made Jim so hungry but it also intrigued him. A thing for danger, Jim thought as he returned the boy's smile. Oh there was no question that this was the right John Watson. I've been waiting centuries for you.
"You know what I think we need?" Jim asked, squatting so he was on level with John but being cautious of getting his suit dirty.
"What's that?" John asked, his eyes shining brightly.
"Ice cream." Jim replied, standing up and holding out his hand. John took it without hesitation.
"Really?" John's bright eyes widened. If he could feel the coldness of Jim's hand, he didn't comment on it. "Mum never lets me have ice cream before supper."
"Well I think you deserve it for being so brave and winning our little competition."
"I don't know." John wiped the blood on his forehead away with his shirt sleeve. "Mum might be cross if she finds out."
"I'll tell you what Johnny, it'll be our little secret. I won't breathe a word to a soul." Jim put his free hand over his non-beating heart and promised.
John chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully and then a smile broke out onto his young face. "Okay." He nodded. "You're a really good friend Mr. Moriarty."
"Please, call me Jim."
XXXX
That was the last time John Watson was ever heard of. There was an exhaustive police search for the boy. After a few years, with no new information coming to light, the search was abandoned and the boy was presumed dead.
No one carried that burden more than Harriet Watson, who spent the next fifteen years thinking if she had only kept a better eye on her little brother he might still be alive. She knew no one really blamed her, she was just a kid herself, but the guilt weighed on her. She drank herself half to death every night trying not to think about it.
John Watson wouldn't be found; at least not until Sherlock Holmes stumbled onto the case quite by accident.
XXXX
"Are you sure about this Holmes?" Lestrade asked for what felt like the fiftieth time since they'd gotten into the cab back at Baker Street.
"Of course I'm sure." Sherlock snapped. He was on edge, more so than usual,to the point where he felt like crawling out of his own skin. They only had one chance to get this right and this was it. If it didn't go accordingly, months worth of planning would have been wasted. They wouldn't get a second shot at this; their only hope was catching Moriarty off guard.
"Unless he's leading us all to our death." Anderson snarled and Sherlock shot him a warning look. It wouldn't be the first time they went at each other. He would have thought Anderson had learned not to pick fights he could not win. Perhaps he needed another lesson.
"Whatever Moriarty has in there is important to him." Sherlock said with certainty, pushing the tree branch aside to show the house. "Out of all his bases, this one is the most heavily guarded. Whatever it is, he wants it kept safe and most of all hidden. The best way to bring him down is to take what he covets."
"And you think he's keeping it here?" Sally asked, clearly skeptical.
"I told you." Sherlock huffed impatiently. They were getting dangerously close to the full moon rising. "There are at least double the amount of guards here, if not more, than any of his other safe houses. Why would he add that much security unless there was something here he wanted to keep safe?"
"Maybe he's leading you into a trap." Sally offered.
"Not possible." Sherlock dismissed immediately. "He isn't aware I know of this place. I made sure of it."
"Alright, I can feel the moon rising. Time to stop bickering and get our shit together." Lestrade said, beginning to undress. Sally and Anderson followed suit and Sherlock turned away in disgust. Human bodies were foul enough without seeing them twist and grow into a wolf. Besides the entire place was about to be permeated with smelly dog. Sherlock wrinkled his nose and went to keep a lookout.
Lestrade changed first, being the oldest and most used to the change. He nudged Sherlock's hand with his snout and Sherlock smiled down at him. He was somewhat fond of Lestrade and couldn't have asked for a more loyal wolf at his side for this. He knew Lestrade could hold up his end, it was the rest of his pack that Sherlock worried about.
Sally could be ferocious in a fight; he didn't think she would be hindrance in what they were about to do. It was Anderson who was next to useless. He was the newest of the pack and Sherlock had no idea why he'd been invited to join in the first place.
"It's almost time, where's Molly?" Sherlock hissed into the cold night air, looking around for the witch.
The largest grey wolf shrugged his shoulders and Sherlock scowled at Lestrade in return. "If this all gets cocked up because you begged me to involve her in the plan, I will have you put down." Sherlock snarled and Lestrade leaned back on his haunches, looking ready to pounce as if to say "try it and I'll kill you."
The black wolf (Sally) rolled her eyes and disappeared into the trees. The dark brown wolf (Anderson) whined after her and Sherlock found their co-dependence sickening. When Sally reemerged from the trees, she was pushing Molly with her nose and another wolf came along as well.
"Who's this?" Sherlock snapped. There were only three wolves meant to be in their company, not four.
"Dimmock." Molly replied, giving the light blond wolf a pat on the head. "He heard about what was happening and came to find me at the morgue. I filled him in on the plan."
"Molly." Sherlock grabbed her by the arm and she yelped in surprise. Leading her away from the pack so they wouldn't be overheard, Sherlock let her go with a little shove. "This is a very delicate situation. We can't be changing the plan at the last minute."
"I thought we could use the extra help." Molly glowered at him.
Sherlock snarled with his fangs at her but didn't say anything more. "Fine Dimmock, you can join us but if you fuck this up, you'll be my next meal." He warned and went to take another look.
The house was massive, with security cameras covering all the doors. Breaking in was not going to be easy but Sherlock did enjoy a challenge. Luckily he would not show up on the cameras but the others were a problem. It would be difficult to smuggle four large wolves in. That's why Molly was there.
"They're about to change the guards, go on." Sherlock urged her. She nodded and began whispering the incantation under her breath. Mist swirled and thickened around them, coating the area in a deep fog. Molly smiled triumphantly as the rest of them set out towards the side door they'd picked as their entry point. Sherlock checked to make sure he had all his supplies well hidden under his long coat. Satisfied, he gestured for the wolves to go ahead.
Lestrade went first, taking down the guard at the door easily. He tore out the man's throat and for a moment Sherlock was overwhelmed by the blood, wanting a taste. He pushed his way past before he was too tempted and began running down the hallway. He had the layout of the building memorized and pulled up the map he had saved in his mind palace.
He left the guards for the wolves, ignoring the biting and ripping going on around him. Whatever Moriarty was hiding was at the very center of the house and Sherlock was determined to get to it. He raced on ahead, trusting Lestrade and his pack to cover him.
XXXX
Molly was still outside, waiting for the others to join her. She could only hope they would be successful because she really didn't want to have to find new friends. She would especially be sad if Sherlock didn't make it out all right.
She knew her crush on the vampire was pointless. She'd met him through Bart's morgue, where Sherlock got his regular supply of blood. She had once foolishly offered herself so he wouldn't have to drink that packaged stuff anymore. He declined; not even bothering to be polite about it. She thought maybe she wasn't the right blood type but from what she'd seen, Sherlock didn't really seem to care about that.
She made herself feel better by deciding that Sherlock simply didn't drink from humans. That wasn't so unnatural anymore. It used to be that being a personal blood donor to a vampire was quite an honor. That wasn't really the case anymore and most vampires got their supply from blood banks.
She knew Moriarty was one of the biggest suppliers of blood in the world. According to Sherlock, that was merely a front for all the other unsavory deals Moriarty did. There were rumors he was distributing large quantities of wolfsbane to hunters in an attempt to knock out the werewolf population.
Beginning to get antsy, Molly did a spell to get into Lestrade's mind. She knew out of all of them, he would object the least to her invading his mind. She whispered the incantation and closed her eyes. The first thing she saw was an ear getting bitten off. She gasped at the gruesome sight and tried to keep the contents of her stomach intact. It was true she worked at the morgue and dealt with dead bodies but she'd never witnessed a murder first hand before.
Damn it Molly, what have I told you about invading my head?
I wanted to know what was going on.
At the moment, carnage mostly.
Gross. Just get everyone back safe, okay?
Will do Mols.
"Well aren't you adorable."
It took Molly a moment to realize it wasn't Greg who had said that but instead someone had snuck up on her while she had been doing her spell. When she opened her eyes, the link between her and Greg was severed. She turned around quickly and saw a woman with dark hair emerge from the shadows. She was covered in a large fur coat that Molly had a sneaking suspicion was wolf fur.
"Is this your spell?" she waved away some of the fog and it lessened as Molly seized up in fear.
"Yes." She said in a small voice.
"Impressive." The woman's smile was blood red. "So you're with the pack of mutts currently invading my home, is that it?"
"Oh." Molly looked over to where the others had gone in and began to worry. "This is your home, I didn't know."
The woman smiled wider and took a few steps closer. Molly instantly took a few steps back but was blocked by a tree. She pressed her small body as far into the bark as she could to get away.
"You really are just the cutest thing." The woman moved so quickly that Molly would have missed it if she had blinked. Pale hands with dark red fingernails came to rest on the tree, boxing Molly in. She flashed her fangs and they glistened in the moonlight. "I could just eat you up."
Molly quickly said a defensive spell meant to knock someone down. The effect was minimal, only succeeding in pushing the woman back a few paces, her black high heels digging into the dirt.
"A witch and a vampire?" Molly stared in awe. She'd never seen a cross breed before. "Who are you?"
"Irene Adler." The woman introduced herself. "And I'm what happens when a witch is turned. But maybe you'd like to know for yourself."
Her vibrant red lips parted as she lowered her mouth towards Molly's neck. Every spell Molly had ever learned left her as she froze in terror. "No, please." She begged with a small whimper.
"This won't hurt a bit." Irene brushed Molly's long hair off her shoulder, her nails scraping against Molly's skin.
Molly shut her eyes tight, waiting for the inevitable bite.
XXXX
Sherlock was nearly there. Two more corridors and he would have control over Moriarty. After centuries of fighting the vampire, he'd never found a weakness and neither had Moriarty found his. But now it seemed Moriarty finally had something to keep safe, something he wanted to protect. Whatever it was had been brought in front Germany three days ago. The train it had been transported on had been so heavily guarded with Jim's men that Sherlock didn't have a hope of trying to take it then. It wasn't another shipment of wolfsbane because Moriarty that was coming in tonight and Moriarty was seeing to it right at that moment. No, this was something else and much more valuable to the vampire. He never had so many men go on a run before.
This was the key to unraveling Moriarty's network. It might even be the key to unraveling the man himself. Sherlock had tried again and again to kill the vampire but hadn't been successful yet. It was only a matter of time.
There were four guards in front of the door that Sherlock needed to open. He grinned, feeling the urge to take some blood. The guards were large and definitely vampiric but Sherlock did love a challenge. Besides, it was no fun leaving all the killing to the wolves.
The first two broke off and away from the door, charging at Sherlock. Sherlock waited for the opportune moment and fell to his knees, slipping a stake out of each coat sleeve and plunging it into the two guard's heart. They turned to ash and the stakes clattered to the ground.
The next one came forward but he was slow and dumb. Sherlock leapt onto the ceiling and crawled across it until he was behind the guard. He dropped onto his large back and tore into his throat. He sucked him dry quickly while the guard thrashed. When his blood was gone, the thug fell heavily to the floor. Without more blood, he wouldn't be getting up any time soon.
The last guard grabbed a hold of Sherlock by the scruff of his neck and threw him across the corridor. Sherlock slid across the floor and into a wall, making it crumble around him. Sherlock pulled the sword from his belt and swung it. The guard stumbled back, giving Sherlock enough time to get to his feet. The guard was tall with a thick neck; beheading him was not going to be easy. But he felt alive and rejuvenated after feeding. Vampire blood was much more potent than human blood but it was against vampire law to go around drinking other vampires.
Sherlock was about to raise the sword again for another swing when the guard cried out and fell to his knees. Lestrade had torn into the back of his knee, causing the guard to collapse. Sherlock wasted no time bringing the sword down in one swift movement and slicing off his head. The guard was so large he took longer than the others to turn to ash.
Sherlock gave Lestrade a nod of thanks, which the wolf returned. Then, wasting no more time, Sherlock went over to the door and pushed it open. He'd had a lot of theories about what would be inside. A blond haired human that couldn't be more than twenty-five years old was not it.