Next chapter as promised. As ever I own nothing and no one but I am forever grateful that those that do don't mind me borrowing them for a while.

Chapter 11 - Imprisonment

Sherlock was lying, on a small bed which pulled down from the wall, with his back to the door, wearing just trousers and a shirt. She could see some chains attached to the wall snaking down until they were hid by his body.

'Whoever you are you can just fuck off. I will not talk to anyone but my brother.'

'Sh...Sherlock?' Molly didn't quite know why it came out like a question. She was just struggling to comprehend how things had gone so badly wrong so quickly.

At the sound of her voice his head whipped round and he started to sit up. 'Molly, I...I didn't think they would involve you in this. I must be worse trouble than I thought.'

As he sat up Molly gasped in shock. The whole of the front of his shirt was covered in blood. He had obviously made attempts to clean up his face but there were streaks of blood still visible across his chin, cheeks and on his hands. On top of that he was dirty, as though he had been living rough, which when she thought about it he probably had.

Molly looked up at the camera in the corner, 'could we have some warm water and cloths...and maybe a change of clothes..'

There was a plastic chair in the corner of the room, she carried it over so she could sit in front of him. 'Sherlock, what happened?'

He turned his head away, refusing to look at her, 'what happened! You know what happened Molly. I fucked up. I hurt John...again, and I...I let you down.'

'Yes, I won't deny I was angry with you but this Sherlock, what were you thinking.'

He finally looked her in the eye, 'that's just it Molly, I didn't want to think anymore. I think all the time, my mind whirling from one subject to another. All I could think about was the look of disgust on John's face and the look of hurt on yours and I didn't want to think anymore. I was so hungry...so hungry and tired, tired of fighting who I am, tired of letting you down.'

He stopped for a moment to gather his thoughts and then continued, 'that first night I walked for hours trying to escape the pain. It must have been late when I heard the cries and followed them to the source, I recognised immediately what was happening. He was raping her and it wasn't his first time. All of a sudden the anger and the hunger combined and I attacked him. You have no idea Molly, the high I felt as I took his blood, felt his life slipping away into me, it was better than any man made drug I have ever tried. My mind felt calm, centred, everything made sense.'

'By the time I came to my senses the girl had fled and he was dead. I have no remorse for what I did Molly, he deserved it and it got me thinking. Granted with hindsight I concede that at that time my neural networks were no doubt compromised by the high from the blood, but I decided to find more like him, I saw how justice and retribution could combine to provide me with the perfect food source. So that's what I did, as you can imagine it was simple for me to find and deduce the people who deserved to die. It was after the fourth killing that Mycroft's goons apprehended me and brought me here.'

Molly was in a moral turmoil, she was glad Sherlock hadn't just killed innocent passers by but horrified that he had appointed himself judge, jury and executioner. And another thing concerned her, he seemed...spaced out. His face kept morphing back and forth between human and vampire.

'How do you feel now Sherlock?'

He looked directly at her, black veins creeping out from his eyes, 'hungry, Molly, I'm so hungry.'

Every human instinct in her body told her she was looking at a predator and she should run, get herself as far away as possible. But this was Sherlock, her Sherlock and she would not abandon him. It was hers and John's seeming rejection that had brought him to this low in the first place (although she still acknowledged he deserved their anger).

At that moment the door opened, making Molly jump in shock, breaking her gaze with Sherlock. It was the security guard carrying a bowl of water and some flannels. He also had a blanket wedged under one arm.

'I can't remove the restraints, not yet, he's still too far gone. I can cut off his shirt though and he can use this blanket.' Molly nodded in agreement and watched as he used blunt tipped scissors to cut the shirt off Sherlock.

After he had left Molly used the cloth to clean Sherlock. After a minute he lay down and closed his eyes allowing her to bathe his chest, neck, face and his hands. As she wiped the last of the blood from his face he opened his eyes and caught her wrist. He looked almost fully human again and if anything just plain tired.

'Thank you Molly. You are always there for me...I don't deserve you, I never have.'

'It's OK Sherlock, get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up, we'll sort this out, I promise.'

He nodded his head his eyes closing with weariness. Molly covered him with the blanket and knocked quietly on the door of the cell.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

Twenty minutes later she was sat with Anthea in a small kitchen sipping a strong, sweet coffee.

'What will happen to him now?' Molly asked although she was scared of the answer.

'Initially we just have to wait and see whether he can be detoxed. Multiple killings and blood highs can trigger an insatiable appetite in some. If he can't control it, if it's too much...'

Molly looked up sharply hearing a tone in Anthea's voice that she didn't want to hear.

'What...what's happened to people like that in the past?'

Anthea seemed to be looking everywhere rather than at Molly, 'well...they've been put down. But I'm sure that won't happen here, Mycroft won't allow it.' She finished the sentence in a rush.

Molly felt sick, 'put down, you mean...killed.'

Anthea just nodded her head once.

Molly felt a reserve of strength and anger bubble up inside her. She would not let that happen, she would do everything in her power to not let that happen. He would get through this.

'Is there anything I can do, to help him I mean?'

Anthea looked at her for the first time, seeing the determination in her eyes, 'just give him a reason to fight the bloodlust, to not give into it.'

This time it was Molly's turn to nod. She could do that, she would do that.

MHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMHMH

She rang John and explained the situation to him. She hadn't been sure whether she should but in then end she decided that, much like her, John knew the worst of Sherlock and accepted him anyway. She would be showing him little regard if she didn't trust him with the unvarnished truth.

He was still angry and a little reluctant at first, but he finally agreed he would do whatever Molly needed him to do to help.

'He needs to know that you accept him, that you accept what he is. He's struggling so much to come to terms with what he is and our rejection just makes it that much harder. He's not ready to see you today but maybe tomorrow...I'll ring you.'

She out the phone down to John and smiled sadly to herself, well that was one hurdle almost crossed. Now she needed to see Sherlock again. She'd spoken to Anthea about how they could control the bloodlust. Molly had offered to let Sherlock feed from her, as he had done before, but Anthea was concerned about his lack of control.

In the end they compromised and Molly gave a pint of blood which was then given to Sherlock in bag form. After he'd 'eaten' Molly went to his room for a second visit.

As before he was still chained to the wall but this time he was sitting up on the side of the bed, his hands clasped between his knees and his head bowed. He looked up briefly when Molly came in.

'What...back again. I'm not your charity case Molly. Go back home to your cat and your sad little life. I don't need you.'

Molly flinched but then lifted her chin defiantly. She knew this man; she knew he used words to push people away. He may not want to acknowledge her but he needed her regardless and you would be here for him.

She sat down in the same plastic chair as last time and looked at him silently.

He finally looked back up at her and his eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. She knew he was cataloguing information about her and knew that he was probably building up a torrent of nasty deductions to hurl at her.

'Don't.'

He pursed his lips momentarily, 'don't what Molly. Don't tell you what I see. Don't tell you that I don't need you. Don't tell you that you are just a walking blood bag to me.'

She leant forward and as she did he leant back as though to not let their personal spaces overlap. She hesitated but put her hand out anyway till she touched the back of his clasped hands. She noted that his knuckles were almost white he was clenching them that hard.

'Don't think you have to do this alone or that you don't deserve someone caring about you. I care and I always will. It doesn't matter what you say I'm not leaving you.

The next few seconds seem to happen in slow motion to Molly. He suddenly twisted his hands round and grasped her hand so fast, he pulled her to him with inhuman strength and her back hit the bed at the same time as his weight landed on top of her.

She looked up and all she could see were his teeth fully extended and his eyes black and hungry, hungry for her blood.

Oooh I do love a bit of monster in my man. Points to anyone who recognises where I got that line from.

And I'm leaving you with a bit of a cliff hanger. Hope you can hold on tight because a) I'm off on holiday and b) I haven't written the next chapter yet so don't know myself what happens.

I will try not to leave you too long. In the meantime let me know what you think.