Author's note: Ok I admit the "drunken vampires" thing was kind of a fluke. But then I realized Jeremy Brett played Dracula on stage and referred to my websites on him. Sure enough there was a few well-needed "suggestions" from his play. So this chapter is dedicated to him, Peter Jeremy William Huggins, who died eight years ago this September 12th. Do the math as you read this chapter. Read and review! And so, on with the motley!
Holmes [F1] crept nearer and nearer towards Lestrade, cornering her and pushing her up against the wall with his knee. He bared his teeth and he licked his lips like a beast thirsty for blood. I am so suing that beer company if I get out of this… She thought to herself as sweat dripped down her back. Lestrade couldn't find the voice to scream with, since she had never screamed in her life. Well, maybe that one time when Holmes and Watson dressed up as Bogey monsters and- well, that's another story…
She called his name out and implored him to stop the joke, which only made the fiend laugh. Holmes' teeth got closer to Lestrade's neck, and the bristles on the back of it seemed to stand on end as his mouth touched her skin. Lestrade shut her eyes tight and waited for Holmes to suck her blood.
Beth Lestrade had read Doctor John H. Watson's journals numerous times. They were a family treasure and so she had to read them eventually. She remembered the countless times Watson, Holmes' closest friend, had been fooled by an act of flawless performing when Holmes wanted something done "the dramatic way".
So, her mind went off. That was the only explanation! As she waited for the teeth in her neck she could see the next few moments in her head. Because suddenly Holmes' mouth wasn't like that of a vampire, and his jaws weren't out for blood.
His blood-sucking lips became tender and affectionate, and he planted a kiss on Lestrade's neck before lifting his head and turning away. His amused voice called back to her from over his shoulder. "It's alright, Lestrade. You can stop acting so scared now… I must admit your skills as an actress are immense. I couldn't have gotten rid of Bern without you." Holmes turned back to her and his blue eyes twinkled at her. Lestrade knew she would feel speechless; she didn't know whether to be angry or… not angry.
And then, the tomfoolery of the whole thing became evident when the left side of her brain continued on: Sherlock Holmes leaned his mouth to Lestrade's ear and mumbled, "Watson will tell you I can't resist a bit of dramatics. But what he won't be able to tell is that I can't resist you, Beth Lestrade." Lestrade groaned to herself. Holmes? Say that? No way.
And, of course, it never did happen. But who says the left side of your brain listens to your right side when the latter tells the former to stop? Lestrade was disgusted and dizzy as she felt the scene run through her head.
Dream-Lestrade decided to take the peacekeeping plan and stay calm after Holmes' mischief. Her own voice was but a whisper, "Holmes you scared the living daylights out of me." He blinked with a hint of confusion before stepping towards her again. Cocking his head to one side, a muscle in his face twitched and a shudder passed through him. Lestrade, too confused and frightened to move, could only whisper her last sentence over and over again. A drum sounded somewhere in her ears: her heart pounded like a huge gong against her chest, ready to burst any second. Holmes' whole demeanor had changed again, and his blue eyes burned like the hottest part of a flame as he hissed, "Vampires hate light, you little witch." Fear surged through the girl, but soon the vampire's voice was as soft as silk again. "But of course, my darling, I can forgive you…" Yuck, he was close to her again. Beth Lestrade suddenly felt a power from the vampire: she felt so peaceful and… seductive…
YUCK! The right side of her brain took control again. With a cry she squeezed out of the man's arms but "gracefully" tripped over a chair in her escape. A cold laugh emitted from a cold, pale, face as a cold, pale hand pulled her closer and closer… She could feel wetness all over her lips and neck! Pushing away was no use against that iron strength that used to amaze her. Lestrade shut her eyes with a scream.
"Lestrade! Lestrade are you all right?" The New Scotland Yard Inspector regained her senses and found Holmes standing over her, splashing water on her face. She sat up with a gasp. "Zed, what happened" was all she could ask him. Had he really hit on her? Holmes did seem a bit sheepish, because he mumbled something that Lestrade couldn't catch. Then he said it a bit louder, "My apologies, Lestrade, you've been the victim of a cruel joke of mine to get rid of Mr. Bern." He helped her up, still dazed and sat her down in a chair. "Well it did seem to work, but what happened was that you believed it as well, (I guess) and well, you fainted just as our Mr. Bern fled like a mouse." Holmes handed Lestrade a glass of water, which she gulped down gratefully. When she finished she played with the cup in her hands, a bit sheepish herself, she finally admitted, "I thought you were a vampire…"
Holmes must've thought she had gone loony. He did feel her forehead with his forearm, which she could feel twitching underneath the sleeve, but he took it away and looked at her in a funny way as a request for an explanation. But, using his better judgment to decide that she wasn't in need of those white men in lab coats, he blushed with a laugh and said honestly, "Don't be silly – vampires are one of the things that scare me…"
Lestrade, surprised that the Great Detective could be scared of anything, stared blankly at him. That was a little more than she wanted to know… Of course, Sherlock seemed to regret that he had confided one of his rare phobias in her, and so Lestrade decided to lighten the mood a bit. Holmes stood and helped her up, and she laughed and teased back, "You? You, who torture and beat small animals until they die a sad death, are afraid of vampires?" Putting on a hurt face, Holmes fired back, "I do not torture small animals!" Then he added under his breath, "They're already dead small animals."
Lestrade stared at him in horror. "What?" He snorted indignantly, "It's for science!" Lestrade shook her head sadly as she began to pack. "You definitely need lots of medical attention." Holmes grinned as if he had known that remark was coming and wasn't disappointed at all.
Author's note (yes, yes, I know… I can't help it!): California's next! Lo and behold, holy land of surfing, surfing, and Hollywood. And surfing. And beaches. But Lestrade can't surf (please don't even think about Holmes surfing…) says me because that would be a bit sidetracking. And I don't surf even though I live in California… But it's hopefully going to be easy to write…
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