221B BAKER ST

Come to Baker St immediately.
Your expert opinion urgently needed.
SH

That was the text that summoned her to 221B Baker St shortly after midnight on Old Hallows Eve.

That in and of itself wasn't that unusual. Sherlock Holmes was not one who concerned himself with basic social niceties. What was unusual however was walking into his flat to be confronted by several laptops all lined up in a row, the footage being played on each screen was from security cameras installed around St Barts. They clearly showed her arriving and leaving the hospital at the times she started and ended her shifts.

But what had Molly wanting to turn and run away was the coverage that clearly came from cleverly concealed surveillance cameras aimed solely on her as she made her way to a secluded area well away from prying camera lenses, or so she had thought. What little colour was left in her face drained away as she watched the inferred footage zeroing in to clearly show her drinking the contents of blood bags she had smuggled into in her bag, before throwing the empty bags into the medical waste dumpster.

Pinned to the wall, were a number of photos taken from the security footage. One in particular caught her eye, one that had been enlarged. It was focussed on her face, and her recently acquired fangs.

"Not a great amount of nutritional value in blood that has passed its expiry date I would have thought," a familiar voice noted from behind her.

Molly swung around, and sure enough Sherlock stood there, one of the bags in his hand.

Caught off guard, she responded without thinking. "I couldn't possibly take blood that was needed..." Too late she realised the implication behind his words.

"Why didn't you come to me?" he demanded.

Of course he would know, she thought in resignation. But somehow she couldn't stop herself from enquiring. "How long have you known?"

"Since you developed an unexpected lisp," he responded. "That and the fact you've taken to covering your mouth whenever I enter the morgue, so I assume I trigger your fangs descent."

And right on cue, Molly's fangs slipped free.

Almost immediately she was aware of the intoxicating scent of the man before her. She had always loved everything about Sherlock. Even before her change he'd had the ability to make her mouth water, but now, now with her heightened senses giving her the ability to detect the delicious aroma of the blood that pumped through every part of him, the awareness became almost overwhelming.

She could hear the beat of the heart he claimed not to possess. It called to her, urging her to take her fill of him. It took every bit of willpower she possessed not to sink her fangs into the beautiful long column of his throat, to sate not only her need for much needed sustenance, but also her so long repressed hunger for the man himself.

The temptation to just give in to her most primitive needs was enough to remind her of the danger she posed to Sherlock should she do so. Mortified at where her wayward thoughts were headed, Molly hastily stepped back, intent on getting as far away from the man she loved as quickly as possible.

But Sherlock would have none of it. With superfast reflexes he easily prevented her from making her escape.

Molly looked up at him in astonishment. No human could possibly move that fast.

"Quite so," Sherlock agreed as he watched Molly in fond amusement as realisation dawned, he could read her thoughts, and then her eyes grew comically wide as he allowed his own fangs to slip free.

The consulting vampire detective pulled his pathologist into his arms. "I tracked down the vampire who did this to you," he explained. "I allowed him to turn me, so that the next time we met it would be on a more even playing field."

Molly stared at him totally aghast. "Why would you do such a thing?"

Sherlock frowned. "I just told you," he began, before her meaning sank in. "Molly," he said, his voice roughened by emotion. "Surely you know I'd do anything for you."

A myriad of emotions washed over her then. She felt Sherlock's regret for taking so long to acknowledge that what he felt for her was love, and a determination that she would never be left in any doubt of his true feelings for her ever again.

Tears of joy started to stream down her face. "You did this because you love me."

"I did," he admitted.

Molly felt an immense sense of relief knowing that now she wouldn't have to go through this alone.

Looking at the empty bag he still held in his hand she admitted. "The idea of feeding off others to survive scares me. But I didn't want to use the fresh blood that had been collected either."

"Then feed from me," Sherlock suggested, before leaning down to murmur in her ear. "You know you want to."

A light blush coloured her pale cheeks. "But what if it's against the rules for vampires to feed off each other?" she asked teasingly as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck.

"I don't give a damn about rules," Sherlock stated vehemently. "We'll make up our own rules, all right?"

"Sounds good to me," Molly readily agreed.

"Thank God that's finally settled," Sherlock huffed impatiently. "Now will you hurry up and just bite me," he ordered.

And she did, to their mutual satisfaction.