John was hanging limp from the wall bound by his wrists and ankles that were red and covered in a painful rash. His head was resting on his stained red chest. The weight that was being put on his arms looked excruciating. Sherlock suspected that for a normal human their shoulders would have been dislocated under the pressure. The unconscious vampire's clothes were stained a deep red and there was also patches of brown where the blood had dried. John's face was dull and grey. Sherlock could see the slits in his side and chest.

The detective moved forward to reach for his lover. He tilted up his head to see a sliver knife in his partner's neck going directly through the jugular vein. The skin around the blade was red from blood but it was also blistered and had come up in a weeping rash. Thick red trails led down from the punctured skin.

Sherlock wrapped his hand carefully around the blade and tugged it out of his John.

He looked down at the knife and noted that it was pure silver so the myth about vampires' intolerance to silver must be correct. The detective peered at the blistered and burnt skin that was around the neck wound.

Sherlock stepped forward towards John but stopped when his foot fell into an unexpected puddle. The detective looked down in confusion before leaping back when he realised that it was a puddle of blood and not just any blood. It was John's blood.

It had started to dry but bits stuck onto the sociopath's shoe. Sherlock swallowed. He was suddenly feeling very queasy.

He took a step back and looked at John. What do I need to do? He felt so helpless. John. What do you need? Please tell me! The detective fluttered his hands in the air. When had he become so powerless and completely useless? The sociopath sighed as he remembered Alexander sending him out just before injecting the blood. Blood, I need blood and a thick needle and large syringe.

Light suddenly flooded the small room. The detective turned to look in the direction of the source. A ghostly silhouette stepped in front of the powerful lamp. Sherlock grunted in frustration when he noticed that the silhouette was overweight.

"Sherlock," Mycroft greeted Sherlock without tearing his eyes away from a bloody John. "What is the protocol here? What are we required to do?"

"I'm not sure. I saw the beginning of the process but then Alexander asked me to leave the room." The detective mumbled to his brother. He was ashamed that the vampire had been able to get him to do whatever he wanted. In his moment of shock, Sherlock would have obeyed any command that fell from the vampire's lips.

"So what do we need to start?"

Sherlock looked up at his brother. He wanted to see him flinch, "Blood and Lots of it. A large syringe. Make sure the accompanying needle is very strong and definitely not silver."

Mycroft stayed composed as he rapidly typed into his smartphone.

"I am correct in assuming that we will be moving him to Baker Street for a move comfortable recovery?" Mycroft had finished typing out his text and was looking at his younger brother.

Sherlock replied with the affirmative immediately. No need for John to be any more uncomfortable then he already will be.

Mycroft looked back over at John. He certainly didn't look like a stereotypical vampire. He didn't have sharp white fangs or ghostly white skin. He looked normal. He looked human.

Sherlock followed his brother's gaze and sighed when he deduced what Mycroft was thinking, "I will get him to demonstrate his vampire...ness after he has recovered but until then will you help me get him down?"

Mycroft moved forward to help the detective with the chains. As he got closer he could see the redness of John's wrists. He looked for a keyhole or lock of some kind but there was nothing there. Mycroft could see his brother was becoming agitated again. I told him caring isn't an advantage.

The politician pulled out his phone and rapidly dialled in the number of his security personnel. He barked in orders once the person on the other end of the line had answered.

Less than a minute later, his demands were met as a well-built man ran into the room clutching large bolt cutters. The man strained as he cut the strong chains binding John to the wall.

Sherlock surged forward suddenly realising that John was about to fall into the puddle of blood on the floor. He reached his partner just in time. He held John in bridal style hold and followed Mycroft out of the dark room.

John was quite light as a result of having his blood almost completely drained and Sherlock guessed that vampires' would be naturally light anyway. They Holmes brothers made good progress and were soon back at the car.

Sherlock could see his brother frowning with distaste as he positioned a bloody John across the leather seats. The doctor was leaving a red trail across the dark chairs. Sherlock ignored the blood and sat next to the vampire. He lent John's head gently to rest on his shoulder.

Come on, John. Not long now.

The car journey was just as long and tedious as the previous but a little less anxious now that the genius had his doctor. Sherlock looked down at John. He inspected every slit, cut and slash. It seemed that Alexander knew that it would take effort to hurt John so instead settled on drawing the blood from him. The sociopath scowled, how dare he?

Mycroft watched as Sherlock clung to his blogger. He really seemed to care about him. A small frown caused creases to form on the politician's forehead. Maybe caring wasn't so much of a disadvantage after all. The elder Holmes studied the two men until they had reached Baker Street.

He stepped out onto the pavement to greet the man with a heavy briefcase. It was full of the supplies he had previously ordered. Mycroft smiled slightly in satisfaction.

He turned as he heard his brother grunt as he hauled John into his arms. Mycroft swiftly thanked the man and took the briefcase from him. No need for anyone else to get too deeply involved.

The politician led the way up the stairs and waited in the living room for his brother to catch up. He could hear Sherlock panting under the strain of climbing the stairs while holding the vampire.

Sherlock reached the top and without stopping continued on into his bedroom. Mycroft scurried after the detective and entered the room as Sherlock was laying his lover on his bed, ignoring the blood that was seeping into the bed sheets. Mycroft felt slightly uncomfortable invading Sherlock's bedroom while John was there. Any concern was soon forgotten as Sherlock held out his hand and demanded that the briefcase should be handed to him. Mycroft complied, handing the blood carrier to the genius.

Sherlock proceeded to fall to his knees and rip open the briefcase.

He waved his hands around in a silent signal of overwhelming panic. Mycroft stepped forward and placed a steady hand on the sociopath's shoulder. Sherlock looked up. Mycroft gave him a reassuring nod before rapidly removing his hand. This was already too sentimental for the brothers. They really were out of their depth.

The ebony haired man calmed himself and took a deep breath. He pulled a large syringe out of the dark case. The blood wasn't in dark bags; John isn't going to be pleased about that when he awakes. Sherlock smiled at the thought of John waking up.

He picked up a clear bag and pierced the thick needle through the plastic. Mycroft watched curiously as Sherlock drew the deep red liquid into the syringe.

Sherlock pulled the needle back out of the bag and tapped the syringe making the bubbles of air move. He hovered the needle over a vein in John's arm before turning to his brother.

"Things can only get better... Right?"

Mycroft didn't reply to Sherlock's question. He kept his eyes trained on the needle.

The detective plunged the needle through the vampire's tough skin and into the empty vein. His fingers tensed ready to push the liquid into his partner.

Here it goes. Come on, john!