Chapter 2. A Suitable offering?
"John, John, John, John, John" the vampire almost sang the words with exaggerated patience "As ever you see but you do not observe"
John finally removed his gaze from the girl, and stared at his lord, who was watching the girl with a predatory stillness more reminiscent of one of his "games" than anticipation of a leisurely lunch. The sturdy soldier narrowed his eyes at the satisfied smile playing on those chiselled beautiful lips.
"However your instincts are more effective than your thought processes, or why else would you feel a threat by the sight of that", he gestured disdainfully at the motionless girl.
"Filthy, malnourished, covered in lice and threadbare rags, do you think this a suitable blood offering for the Lord of the British Isles?" and his icy gaze turned toward his protector with an eyebrow raised.
John's stomach clenched, he knew that expression, it forewarned of either punishment or pleasure depending on the vampire's mercurial mood. His excellent survival instincts took him to his knees; he bent forward and kissed one pale hand.
"Forgive me my lord" he uttered softly, his warm breath caressing those thin fingers, hoping his instant supplication would sooth any ire, or at least change the mood to a different hunger.
"I worry" and he tilted his head up so his indigo eyes could meet those impenetrable argent hued pupils, baring his neck in submission "constantly"
The vampire's other hand very gently wrapped itself around his throat, feeling the increase in pulse and the instinctive swallow, without removing his gaze from John's wide pleading eyes. His eyes flickered between black and silver and briefly his fangs made an appearance.
The thumb drifted softly against his skin, as he kept him kneeling, knowing and revelling in the pain the werewolf was feeling in the damaged leg, knowing how the uncertainty of his intentions was as seductive for John as it was chilling.
His John, his soldier, his protector, was as responsive and addicted now to his whims as he was when he had woven his spell over the young pup all those years ago and made him his pet.
John's strength, resilience and poisonous blood ensured that Sherlock could indulge his nature satisfactorily without losing his favourite toy. If Sherlock was ever tempted to take John's blood, he would die an agonising death, if John was ever tempted to betray the vampire he would die an agonising death. It was the perfect partnership.
John's devoted madness ensured his safety; his single-minded obsession fuelled his ego and his cruelty.
Sherlock rarely admitted it even to himself, but the werewolf was as necessary to him as was he to the werewolf.
He was never bored with John. He found peace with John, from the cravings of the incessant blood lust and the ravings of his incessant mind.
He had at one time refused to acknowledge that John was getting older, Weres didn't last as long Vampires, they had a longer life span than humans but they were not immortal like the Vampire.
His remarkable intellect had not allowed that ridiculous delusion for long and it had acknowledged the possibility of John's demise and removal from his life (that acknowledgment had caused the utter decimation of a particularly troublesome human town in the south east, Aldershot, if he remembered correctly, with the resultant beneficial effect of the fall of half the official human army)
He had experimented of course over the years, to find something to extend that lifespan because the thought of life without John was too tedious to endure, he had made some gains, and as a side benefit had satisfactorily depleted the stock of rebel werewolves at the same time but it was only lately that this secret passion had coincided with another of his long standing games, in fact the "game" and now he had a move which could gain him his most longed for results. How utterly delicious! He had only to set it into play.
John saw the instant that the Vampire's focus left him, turned in on himself and that palely beautiful hand dropped from his throat.
"Get up John" the dark velvet voice ordered impatiently, but before he turned back to stare at the girl in the hall of death and glory, Sherlock bent swiftly and drawled softly against the wolf's ear, sending lust and fear in equal anticipatory shivers down his spine "Later".
The vampire did not wait for his protector to get to his feet, he strode into the hall. The staccato sound of his steps echoed through the vast room.
He strolled languidly around the young human, taking in all the details, observing, analysing, and cataloguing the data. He was intrigued by the fact that she was as yet unaware of his presence; the small joyful smile on her lips was a marked contrast to the frightened tears dripping off her chin. The relaxed breathing in contrast to the unconscious clenching of her hands.
It had been a long time since a human had intrigued him, and this filthy little specimen was attracting his interest which was unexpected as he had only needed her physical body for his initial plan. All sorts of delightful possibilities were now racing through his mind. A rare chuckle broke from his lips. Poor, poor child, she was his now and forever.
John frowned as he heard the laughter. He came to stand at Sherlock's side, and once again eyed the girl with heightened and meticulous precision
"I want her attention John" Sherlock said calmly.
An open palmed slap across the girls face was his instant response.
Sherlock smiled mockingly without moving his gaze from the girl, and said with underlying menace
"Brutal but effective my dearest John as always …. But only forgivable in this instance because I did not tell you that she is to be unharmed, I have told you now John, she is not to be harmed, I won't forgive a second transgression"
A sudden sharp pain in her face pulled her forcefully from her dream world. She was yanked back with the cold snap of a piece of elastic from soft sand, warm sun and gentle waves, until she could feel the hard parquet floor digging into her knees, the cold of the hall seeping through her thin clothing and the ominous waiting presences towering above her
Oh God, she didn't want to open her eyes and see the monsters that had come for her.
Please let it be quick, please let it be quick, please let it be quick, she chanted silently, and the refrain repeated in her mind to the exclusion of all else.
She screwed her eyes closed and covered them with her clenched hands like a small child. Her heart rate and breathing became laboured, but she refused to look at them.
Please let it be quick, please let it be quick, please let it be quick….
"Do you think it's wise to ignore your lord and master little one"
a cold cold voice mocked her actions.
She was grateful that she was already on the floor because the sound of that famous and feared voice took the strength from her limbs, with a level of terror she hadn't known existed. Her arms dropped to her side, she had no strength to keep them up, but her head was raised as if pulled up by a noose, and her terrified face was revealed to them like a flower opening to the sun.
John looked at the cheekbones accentuated by the thinness in her face, the Cupid's bow lips, the curls in the strawberry blonde hair, and when finally clear ice blue eyes were revealed, he whispered one word in shock "Mycroft"
Sherlock laughed, the glee and satisfaction reverberated through the vast hall and into the terrified mind of the suppliant girl before him.
"Isn't it just adorable John, the last of my living relatives has come home. Won't her father be simply ecstatic?"
She heard no more as her exhausted brain and body refused any more stimulants and combined to relieve her of the weight of her terror as she collapsed into a stupor before them
AN. Disclaimer as first chapter,
I am so enjoying writing this. I think the rating will probably go up in the next chapters. Is he bad enough for you ? Please please review, I need to know what you think xxx