Sherlock woke to a flurry of movement beside him. He sat up quickly, blinking sleep from his eyes and turned to look at his bed mate…who wasn't there. His attention was brought to the corner of the room by an animalistic whine. Lestrade was crouched there, his eyes dark, staring at him with a mix of hunger and fear.

"Lestrade, it's okay. You're safe," Sherlock soothed quietly, creeping on his hands and knees to the edge of the bed. A growl stopped him from getting off of it but he moved into a sitting position, his feet on the floor.

"What are you doing here?" Lestrade's voice was hoarse and shaky. Sherlock decided that he was lucid enough to risk moving closer, but he had barely stood up when another growl rumbled from Lestrade's throat and forced him back onto the bed.

"I'm here to help," Sherlock said steadily but this didn't seem to appease the vampire.

"Get out!" he snapped, folding further in on himself.

"No," Sherlock responded, his voice full of his usual bravado. "You need help, and you know you won't let anyone else near you."

"I shouldn't let you near me!"

"But you're going to," Sherlock said forcefully before shaking his head slightly. "Please, Lestrade. Just let me help you."

Lestrade looked up into his eyes and Sherlock held still, refusing to lose eye contact. He needed to prove to Lestrade that he was right and could handle this. He wasn't prepared to lose the other now that he'd found him. Lestrade just stared unreadably at him, trying to find the answers to questions that neither of them knew.

"It won't be pretty," he said finally. When Sherlock only nodded in acceptance, he added "I'm a complete mess! I can't forget the taste of his blood; I'm craving more and having you sitting there makes me want to rip into your throat. I can't promise that you'll be safe."

"You won't hurt me," Sherlock admonished confidently.

"You don't know that," Lestrade cried, his voice almost a howl. Sherlock sighed and held out his arms. Lestrade looked at him fearfully, yet shuffled slightly closer. When Sherlock didn't move, he got up and slowly stepped towards him. Once he was within touching distance, Sherlock took his wrists and guided him to lie on the bed, positioning him so his head was in Sherlock's lap and one of Sherlock's arms was around his shoulders. Sherlock then began gently running his other hand through Lestrade's hair, trying to soothe his small whining sounds. Eventually, the vampire was lying quietly in his lap, hands curled into the fabric of his trousers.

"All you have to do Lestrade is tell me how to help you, and I will," Sherlock promised. Lestrade let out a shaky breath and nuzzled against the detective's leg, feeling himself being clutched closer in response.

"Are you sure you want the responsibility? It won't be easy," he warned.

"Yes," Sherlock replied simply.

"Why?" Lestrade asked plaintively. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because I love you. I'm not losing you, and you're not leaving me. So the only other option is to help you."

Lestrade let a trembling laugh that was more nervousness than actual humour. Sherlock smiled and pressed a kiss to his temple, pleased when the other leaned into the touch.

"So," he began, "Tell me how to help you."

Lestrade took a moment to collect his thoughts; his head was spinning from guilt and hunger, making it hard to think clearly but he had to – for Sherlock.

"The bloodlust is the real problem. I've fed too much recently, its making my head buzz."

"How do we get it under control?"

Lestrade allowed himself a smile at the 'we' but it disappeared as he replied.

"I need to wear myself out. The last time I lost control, I slept for weeks. I can't afford to do that now, the Council will be trying to contact me soon and I can't be a mess for that. If I can completely exhaust myself and then sleep for a day or two, I should be able to break it well enough. You'll have to keep a close eye on me, help make sure that I don't feed."

"Don't you need to feed though?"

"I shouldn't for at least a week, and then I'll have to make sure I stay on a stable diet."

"I'll keep an eye on you."

"Thank you," Lestrade said, twisting his head to smile gratefully up at the man he love more than anything. He did not know how he came to be so lucky that sure an extraordinary man could actually be so devoted to him. Sherlock smiled back at him but then frowned.

"How are we going to exhaust you? You can't leave this building."

"I'm not sure," Lestrade said, mirroring his frown. "I guess I could run up and down the stairs but that'll take hours and if the craving gets too much I'll be able to leave too easily."

Sherlock contemplated the problem, running through different solutions rapidly. One suddenly sprang to mind but he shoved it vehemently away, trying to stop the heat it created in his stomach from showing on his face. They needed a proper solution, and that one was just selfishness on his part, fuelled by the desire he had held for the other for too long. However, another solution refused to present itself. He looked down at his companion, who was still trying to think of an answer to his question, and cleared his throat hesitantly, causing Lestrade to look up at him expectantly. Sherlock found the words catching in his throat at that look but quickly swallowed his fear. He was only explaining a solution after all; they didn't have to do it, and if Lestrade said 'no' it wasn't really a rejection, just him saying that it wouldn't be good for stopping his bloodlust. Sherlock tried to focus on these thoughts but his nervousness must have shown because Lestrade sat up and frowned at him with concern.

"I…I may have…have a solution," Sherlock stuttered.

"What is it?" Lestrade asked curiously.

Sherlock's nerves failed him and he realised that he couldn't say it. So he just decided to act. Without warning, he threw himself at Lestrade and kissed him like his life depended on it. He tried to put all of his love and passion into it, willing Lestrade to understand what he couldn't say. Miraculously, it seemed he managed to. Lestrade kissed back with a fervour that was practically hunger. Sherlock moaned into his mouth, opening his mouth eagerly for Lestrade's tongue, enjoying the brief battle for dominance before blissfully submitting. All too soon, he found himself lying on the middle of the bed on his back, Lestrade looming over him with hands either side of his head, both of them panting.

"Are you sure?" Lestrade asked breathlessly. Sherlock nodded without hesitation, causing matching smiles to appear on their faces.

"It'll take a lot to wear me out," Lestrade said, the smugness hardly hidden.

"Bring it on," Sherlock challenged, and Lestrade pounced.

When Sherlock woke several hours later, Lestrade was still completely out of it. Sherlock smirked, thinking of the fun he'd had wearing his lover out. Looking at him now made him have the irrational thoughts that he might never be able to stop smiling and that he should show off the marks that had been left all over his body. He pushed them away, and got silently out of the bed. Hopefully, Lestrade wouldn't wake up for several more hours but he had to be careful just in case. He didn't really want to leave the room but he had to check the apartment.

He found plenty of food in the kitchen, swiping a cereal bar from one of the cupboards before heading to the phone in the main area. He paused momentarily, listening for any indication that Lestrade had woken up. There was nothing so he picked up the phone and dialled John's number. It rang twice before the doctor answered.

"John Watson."

"John, it's me-"

"Sherlock?! Where have-"

"Shhhh!" Sherlock hushed him sharply, looking worriedly at the bedroom door. He breathed in relief and said quietly "Good, you didn't wake him up. You need to speak quietly."

"Sherlock, what's going on? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. Actually," he chuckled, "I'm fantastic."

"Why?" Sherlock could picture the frown on his friend's face.

"I just learnt some interesting facts about Lestrade," he replied cryptically. "Ones that I will not be sharing with you." There was silence on the other end of the phone before a curse told Sherlock that John had worked out his meaning.

"Listen," Sherlock said hurriedly, "I haven't got time to explain much, you just need to know that both Lestrade and I are safe but we're not going to about for a couple of days. He's in pretty bad shape John, but I can help him if we're not disturbed."

"I'll call Mycroft and tell him the situation. Just be careful."

"Thank you John," Sherlock said gratefully, never so glad of his friend's seemingly infinite understanding. He hung up the phone, dropping it back on the table as he returned to the bedroom. He crawled under the covers and felt himself instantly relax as one of Lestrade's arms wrapped around him reflexively. Sherlock smiled to himself and allowed to sleep to take over once again, this time with no worries weighing on him.