(AN: OMG! It's ten to five in the morning! Spent all night translating those names! GRRR! Oh & yes, this is all for setting up the prequel coming up, next.)

(9) Something Needed

John attempted to take Derek back but the child instantly started wailing. Molly held him once more & a blissful silence fell around them. Molly switched him to her other arm. "Sorry, John. I guess there's something about you he doesn't like, today."

"He's been like that every since Mary ... " John stopped.

"They both miss her," said Molly.

"I think he thinks you're his mother now," said John.

"I am his Godmother," Molly said. "But I can't turn into a wolf once a month like his Mum did." She tried handing him back once more, but the fussy pup loudly announced his displeasure, this time by growling.

Both stared at him. "Well, his mother was a purebred Lycan," John said.

"Thank God he doesn't have any teeth yet," Molly held him close again. "Come on, Derek. I need to go to work."

"Why don't I walk you over?" John offered. "Hopefully, he'll fall asleep by then & I can take him back. I'll grab some chips at the same time."

"Sounds like a plan," Molly agreed. "Let's hope it works." She waited for John to get the stroller with Jessica in it, already sleeping. As they headed down the street, Molly asked, "How's Sherlock doing on that burned hotel case?"

"It's aggravating him," said John. "With the records gone, he has to do a lot more digging." They walked in silence for a bit. "I have an idea of who is responsible, but only Greg saw the face."

"You do? Did you tell Sherlock?"

"Eventually," John replied slowly. He stopped walking. "Someone in the lobby let Greg borrow a pen & then took off. I took the pen after to bring it back & it showed me an imprint ... " He explained the most recent vision.

"The Undead Law has the death penalty?" Molly gasped after John finished. "But what could either of them do to get that sort of sentence?"

"Merlin thinks they might be getting framed," John began. "Sherrinford says it's next to impossible to frame vampires since they usually take literal centuries to sort things out, unless it's obvious, like in the case of Dracula."

"You think the one who gave Greg the pen burned the hotel down?"

"To stop Sherlock from seeing him on the cameras," John nodded. "Right now, only Greg might be able to identify him if he comes around again."

"What does Sherlock think?"

"He hasn't said anything about it, yet," John sighed. "But I'm sure he's thinking about it."

"That guy with the pen," Molly started. "Could be vampire, Lycan or human."

"I don't think he's a vampire," said John.

"Why not?"

"Something Merlin said," John hesitated before adding, "Do you remember Micah de LaCie?" Molly nodded silently. "He was the one that had bitten Mycroft three thousand years ago. The LaCie's were a family of three vampires. Mycroft hunted down two of them but was unable to destroy Micah since the wing ridge he was using had come from Micah. Then I destroy Micah with Excalibur. From what I know, there is no one else left in that family. But Merlin says imprints connect past to future events."

"You think Mycroft missed someone from the LaCie family?"

"Mycroft said he had destroyed them all except Micah," John insisted. "Sherlock once told me that not all Lycan packs are good. I think we're dealing with the wolf pack the LaCie family took care of. The Garcia family. One of those got me activated."

"They're out for revenge," Molly gasped.

"I don't know how big the Garcia pack is," said John. "Only that I killed one by mistake since Micah forced us together."

"Surely Sherlock would know!"

"I'm sure he does," said John. He leaned over to check on Derek now sleeping in Molly's arms. "Finally! Let's put him beside his sister so you can escape."

Molly gently laid him down in the stroller. They turned the corner & Bart's hospital came into view. "By the way, did you hear the rumours?"

"What rumours?" John rolled his eyes. "Who am I gay for this time? Am I with Greg now?"

Molly had to smother her laugh so she wouldn't wake up the pups. "Not about you."

"For once."

"I heard someone on the force asked to become a vampire," Molly said.

"What? Really? Who?"

"Not sure," Molly shrugged. "But the most bets are on Greg."

"Greg?" John gasped. "I'll see if I can find out, later." He watched Molly enter the hospital, then turned the stroller around & headed for the nearest restaurant.

Lestrade was inside & came over to see the twins. "Hi, John. Oh, they're both sleeping."

"Took us ages to get Derek asleep," John took his order & went to Lestrade's table to sit down. "So, I just heard something."

"What?" Lestrade was still watching the sleeping children, hoping one would wake up so he could play with it.

"Did you ... um, are you a vampire, now?"

Lestrade sharply sat straight, glaring at John. "It wasn't me. I have no interest in turning either to a vampire or a Lycan."

"Oh, alright. I just thought someone said you went & became a vampire last night."

"You & Sherlock," Lestrade groaned. "He was expecting me as well, but no. I'm fine as a human." John nodded & began drinking his coffee as Lestrade added, "It's Sally."

John hacked on his drink & choked it out. "What? But ... no. They hate each other. Why would she do that?"

"She's telling everyone she wanted to know what colour her wings would be," Lestrade said.

John stared into his coffee, absorbing the fact that Sherlock & Donovan will have to put up with each other for all of eternity. "So," John asked. "Did you see them?"

"I was there with Philip while she was turning," Lestrade said. "We locked ourselves in the cruiser to stay safe. She came over to show them off, after. They are gorgeous. Smaller than Sherlock's but no less deadly. I worry about them, now. If they get into a fight, they could ash each other."

"That's what I'm afraid of," John said. He heard low growls from the stroller & looked over to find Derek climbing over his sister before face-planting into the pile of blanket beside her, still fast asleep. "Hey," John whispered. "We're human right now. No growling until full moon!" He looked up at Lestrade. "I don't want them to behave like Jacob Grant when they're his age."

"Good luck with that," Lestrade laughed. "Their mother was more wolfish than you."

"He growled at Molly earlier today," John said. "First time I heard him do that."

"They don't have teeth yet, right?"

"Not yet," John cast another glare at his grumbling son. "Soon though, which is why I want them to be as human as possible. We can turn anyone into a Lycan & kill vampires with a single bite at any time. They need to be careful!"

"Well, like I said," Greg finished off his own coffee & stood up. "Good luck with that. I need to get back. I hope Sherlock has that hotel sorted out, soon."

"I'm sure he will," John waved Lestrade away. He checked over the pups again & then sent a text to Sherlock. "I was thinking that perhaps the Garcia wolf pack is involved with my latest imprint vision. How many are there?" Not expecting an answer right away, he put the mobile aside & started on his chips. Halfway through them, he heard his text alert.

"Too many, but they left Britain the day after Mycroft & Micah were destroyed & have not been seen or heard from since. Without vampire protection, they would be a danger on full moon. I can only assume they have the good sense to avoid human kind during those times."

"So we are basically stuck at square one," John texted back.

"I have made some progress on the burned hotel."

"What did you find?"

"The back up records Robert keeps are also destroyed." A pause. "Oh & Robert is missing."

"Great."

"Yes. Perfect, in fact. We know Robert's face, for one thing. Secondly, I do believe he is the one who torched his own hotel. Now to find out why & to prove it."

"I think it was done to destroy the security footage before Greg could see who gave us that pen."

"Yes, but who lent out that pen & how to prove it? That is the question."

"You also have to find out where Robert went off to."

"Sherrinford is working on that one."

"Good. I will be at the flat in about an hour. Mrs. Hudson wants the kids, but I wonder if that is safe? Derek growled for the first time today, at Molly."

"They are Lycans. You people growl. Constantly."

John glared at that for a full minute. "Right. Like how you people hiss like pussies. Constantly."

"Shut up, John."

John deflated with a long low growl, caught himself halfway through & sighed heavily. "Oh gees. He's right!" He groaned. Derek answered him. "Hey! Don't you start," John ordered, finishing his chips.

"Watson? Doctor Watson?"

John glanced around to see an older man with streaks of grey in his long brown hair. "Uh, yes?"

"This is amazing!" The man came up to him. "I follow you & Detective Holmes on your blogs. Never thought I'd run into you. I'm hardly ever in London."

"Oh, yes, well," John said as he stood up, pushing the stroller aside to get out.

"Ohh you have the pups with you," The man looked in at them for a moment. "I heard what happened to Mary. So sorry about that!"

"It's been rather hard, especially on them," John said. "I think it made Derek start to growl."

"Aww, growling already, is he?" The man laughed softly. "Pups usually start that within the first year, like how humans start babbling & then, some of them never shut up."

John was starting to get an odd feeling about this visitor. "How much do you know about Lycan pups?"

"Oh plenty!" The man looked up at him, shifting his dark green eyes to gold for a moment. "I have had several."

"These are my first," said John.

The man looked down at them again, almost sadly. "I lost my first set. Both killed in the same day. Then my wife died two days later."

"Ohh!" John gasped. "That's—I'm sorry to hear that! I even can't imagine losing these two as well as Mary."

"It was a very dark time," said the man. After a moment, he said. "I'm sorry. I'm David Wells." He held out a hand.

John shook hands. "Hi. Uh, Joh—well, of course you already know about me."

David laughed. "You know, if you need any advice for Lycan pups, I can send you some stuff."

"Oh definitely! Please," John all but begged. "You can contact me on my blog."

"Will do," said David. "I'll message you later about them."

"Alright," John took out his mobile as the older wolf left to send a text to Sherlock. "Wells wolf pack. Know that one? Ran into a David Wells werewolf just now."

"Never heard of them."

John looked down at the pups. Derek was awake & watching him. "Guess he really is just a fan, then." He headed back home & took a cab to Baker Street. By then, both were awake in time for Mrs. Hudson to take over while John headed upstairs. As soon as he opened the door, John declared, "How could you have possibly turned Sally Donovan, of all people?"

"I have turned a few people in my lifetime," Sherlock began. "It is a fairly simple process. I bite into them, drain them of mos—"

"That's NOT what I mean, Sherlock!" John interrupted. They stared at each other, Sherlock looking more confused as time went on. "You two don't like each other," John finally said. "Now you're going to be stuck with each other for all of eternity."

"Turning people does have its drawbacks, on occasion."

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed in annoyance.

"What has my brother done, now?" asked Enola as she entered.

"He," John shoved an accusing finger in Sherlock's face. "Turned Sally Donovan, last night."

"She asked."

"Oh that," Enola shrugged. "I heard." She opened the fridge & began putting some bottles along one shelf. "I picked up some fresh blood rations from the Undead Law, since you used some for your latest victim."

"Victim? Again, she asked!" Sherlock defended. He started sniffing over Enola's shoulder.

"William, I'm not bleeding right now so," She whirled around, nose to nose. "BACK OFF!"

"Alright, already," Sherlock took several steps back from his sister. "I wasn't even looking for your blood. But there is something different about you. Your scent has changed."

Enola groaned. "Look, I'm rather tired right now. So stop pestering me." She rubbed her right temple with a finger, as if trying to relieve some pressure.

"It's rather unusual to see you unwell," Sherlock said.

"I KNOW!" Enola yelled sharply. Sherlock & John both raised their brows. "Sorry. I'm just tired, lately."

Sherlock looked her over before asking, "Have you had sex, recently?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Enola grinned as she headed for the door. "As I understand it, you've been dry for over a year."

"Violet."

"Don't call me Violet!"

"Don't call me William!" Sherlock sassed back. "Now have you had sex, yes or no?"

John put one hand over his eyes as Enola gave her brother a little shove. "Plenty. A lot more than you have. I get it at least three times a day. Or more!"

"There is no need to be sarcastic."

"Who says I'm being sarcastic?"

"I do."

"Well, you're an idiot!" Enola shot back. Sherlock hissed at her, baring fangs. They glared at each other. Enola opened the door to leave. "Not my problem you haven't been laid in a while. When's the last time you were with Irene?"

"Oh bloody hell!" Sherlock put his face into both hands for a moment. "Not that again. I can't be with a vampire."

"Yes you can, you just refuse to," Enola replied. "Too bad. You don't know what you're missing."

"Can't miss what you don't know," Sherlock talked back, mocking.

"Don't sass me! I ought to flip you over & fix you up with a darn good spanking, but you'd enjoy that," Enola said.

"Yes, I would."

"Sherlock," John groaned.

"If you have me down on my knees & crying, you're doing something right."

"SHERLOCK!" John exclaimed.

"Him & Mycroft," Enola rolled her eyes. "Both are part of that whole BDSM community, but even Mycroft got it a lot more often than Sherlock, since he went with any species, not to mention any sex. He was quite the queen! He could get more fun in a day than Sherlock ever could in eternity, the way he avoids everyone not human," Enola grinned evilly at her brother. "Sucks to be you!" At that, she hurried out & closed the door before Sherlock could retaliate.

"Well THAT was a whole lot of information I didn't need!" John complained. "Sherlock, can you teach me to delete memories?"

Sherlock burst out laughing. "Ohh you're face!" He fell to his knees, sobbing with laughter. "You're red as a beet!"

"Shut up!"

"Why?" Sherlock gasped for air. "You've got me on my knees, crying, right now!"

"WILLIAM!" John bellowed in frustration. Sherlock lay over onto his side in a fetal position. "I will bite you!" John threatened. "I will seriously bite you, not in the wings! You won't be able to cut it out!"

Sherlock slowly managed to regain some composure. "Oh come on, John. The blood war between Holmes & Watson is ancient history."

John let out a quick growl. "What is wrong with you? Why did you even ask her that rather personal question?"

Sherlock finally got up. "Personal? That goes out the window after three thousand years." He glanced at the door. "She never did answer."

"Good!" John snarled. "I hope she doesn't. Kind of not your business."

"John," Sherlock scoffed as he went to get his coat. "Enola & I know everything about each other. She got plenty of gossip when I was with Irene." John just glared at him. "Like I said, three thousand years, stuff like that doesn't really matter any more. Now, I need to stop by the hospital. Coming?" John heaved a sigh of exasperation, but followed like a lamb.

They met Molly in the hallway going up to the lab. She was in the process of getting something to eat when she saw the pair coming in. "I got that sample you wanted," Molly said, leading the way to the lab. "It wasn't that hard. Alexander was trying to get with me all night!"

"He still has much to learn," Sherlock took the vial Molly offered once they were in the lab & sat down at the microscope. "Four hundred years is a lot to catch up on."

"Yeah well, the sooner he learns about the modern woman, the better," Molly said as she headed out the door & down into the freezer.

Sherlock stared at her retreating back, thoroughly confused. He returned to the scope for a few minutes, before holding out a hand in John's direction. "Pass me the sample in your right coat pocket, please."

John blinked before slowly sliding his hands into his own pockets. Sure enough, he found something. He pulled out a vial & held it up. "How long has this been there?"

"Since yesterday," Sherlock said, taking it. "That's your spare jacket you leave at our flat. So I put it to good use."

John shook his head, amazed. He watched Sherlock work for several minutes. They were alone together at the moment. "Isn't Alexander the name of one of your sons?" He asked, being one of few people who knew the whole story.

"Yes," Sherlock nodded before swapping samples around under the scope. "In English, though it didn't change much over the years. My first language is Greek & his name was Aléxandros. But few use that today since the variant, Alexander, is more popular." He checked his mobile.

"David lost his first two children, as well," John said. "I don't know what I'd do if something happened to Derek & Jessica."

"It is not a pleasant sensation," Sherlock said, skimming through the texts. "Sherrinford can not find a single thing on this Wells pack you encountered. There is no record at all."

"Oh! Uh, I forgot to say, he is not from around here," John remembered something. "He told me he is rarely ever in London."

"Doesn't matter," Sherlock tapped the mobile, reading another text, this one from Anderson. "The Undead Law keeps records all over the globe. There should be something about the Wells wolf pack, somewhere." He called someone. "Anderson, come to the lab at the hospital as soon as possible."

"Anderson?!" John exclaimed as soon as Sherlock hung up.

"Yes, Anderson."

"You have never called for him before."

"First time for everything," Sherlock said, going back to his scope.

John tried to wrap his head around that one. What would Sherlock need Anderson for? He decided it was better to just wait & see as he said, "You've said before that you're native tongue is Greek."

"It was the main language of the population at the time, like how English is today. Several other languages as well, but nearly everyone spoke Greek as their first or second language."

"Sherlock isn't Greek. Neither is the name Mycroft. Or any of the others."

"Sherlock is just a word that means fair haired," Sherlock began. "I was born with a full set of thick curls, so my mother gave me a name that meant fair haired. We have changed words to describe us all through the ages, keeping up with the languages. We kept the meaning of our original names the whole time, just not the way it is said." He switched the samples around, studying them in silence for a while. "Zantha mall yeah."

John stared at him. "What?"

"Zantha mall yeah."

"Zantha. Mall," John repeated slowly. "Yeah. Uh, yeah?"

"No," Sherlock turned away from the scope to look at him. "Zantha MALL yeah. Emphasize the third syllable."

"Zantha MALL yeah."

"Better, now say it a little faster."

John did so, then asked. "What am I saying?"

"My name," Sherlock said.

John glanced to the scope, then back at Sherlock. "Did I just say fair haired in Greek?"

"Yes," Sherlock nodded. "That is my original name. Most people back then just called me Zantha."

"I've heard that word before," John said. "When you talk to your siblings in Greek."

"That's my name," Sherlock repeated. "But you don't spell it how it sounds." He took out a paper & wrote it down for John to see. Xanthá Malliá.

John pointed at the paper. "That's your actual name, Xanthá Malliá? Greek for fair haired?"

Sherlock nodded & wrote some more names on the sheet of paper. Tha Krános was written in front of Xanthá Malliá. Under that was Adriános Mikró Choráfi. Sherlock then wrote Evgenikós Theós Richá Nerá next. Finally, he put down Moníris Eurus Violéta. He put the pen aside & traced his finger over the top word. "Tah CRAH knows," Sherlock sounded out the first word. "William means will, as in desire or wish & helmet. I was born during a time when vampire attacks were common & the strong belief that names were magic & such things would protect me. That worked really well." Both laughed shortly as Sherlock went on. "Tha Krános Xanthá Malliá, desire a helmet to protect the fair haired, basically. Rough translations, but the closest to it is William Sherlock, today."

"Wow!"

"Adriános is similar since it is Greek to begin with," Sherlock went on. "So is most of his name." He placed his finger on Mikró Choráfi. "Mick row HOE RAF ee."

John repeated after Sherlock, verbally sounding out the name. "It does sound similar to Adrian Mycroft."

"Adrian means rich," Sherlock said. "My family were always a bit better off. Three sons & a daughter. My father was the main hunter & sold meat at the ports. Mycroft has two meanings today. By the stream or a small field. He was born in a small field. So Mick row HOE RAF ee, Greek for small field."

John looked at the next name. "Alright, I know theós is God, so Sherrinford means God?"

"No, Shane means God is gracious. Our mother was not supposed to have any children at all & ended up with four," Sherlock explained. "Shane nearly killed our mother & put her in bed for almost three months. I tried my hardest to finish what he started & put her in bed for five months."

"That must have been a scary time for women having children & no hospitals like today."

"It was very different," Sherlock agreed as he continued. "Shane was unexpected. So they thanked whatever gods people believed in then & believe me, we had plenty! They thought he was some sort of divine gift. Aye veni KOS THAY ohs, God is gracious. Shane today."

"What about Sherrinford?"

"Like my name, Sher meaning fair," Sherlock went on. "Ford. To cross a river. Guess where he got born?"

"In the river?" John exclaimed.

"They were crossing a wide river to some hunting grounds & he decided to get born right in the middle of it," Sherlock said. "He's always been an excellent swimmer. Rika nera. Shallow river crossing. Evgenikós Theós Richá Nerá, Shane Sherrinford. God is gracious. Fair crossing. Shallow river."

"God is gracious & fair enough to let it happen in a shallow river," John pointed out.

"If such deities exist, then perhaps so," Sherlock said. "We just called him Theós most of the time."

John looked at the paper again. "I see Violet there. Hasn't changed much. Which one is supposed to be Enola?"

"Enola is not really a name," Sherlock replied. "When the Undead Law was secret, we would often disappear for a few centuries to let stories of us fall into legend. When we returned, our names & information were always updated to the latest languages. Enola got around that by making one up that most people wouldn't think of. MON ee riss. Greek for solitary. She was the only girl born. Eurus. Greek god of the autumn & east winds. She was born in the fall season during a windstorm. Violéta was also our mother's name since she had been born in a garden of those purple flowers. But Enola used Moníris & cleverly turned it around. Spell out Enola."

"E—N—O—"

"Backwards."

John stared into space. "Um. Enola. So A—L. Enola. Nola. A—L—O ... alone?!"

"English alone. Solitary. Enola," Sherlock said. "Moníris Eurus Violéta. Solitary. East winds. Purple. Alone backwards, in English. She came up with the word Enola much later. Our parents never knew it. Before that, we would often call her Eurus. Theós for Shane. Mikró for Mycroft & Xanthá for me. That is my original name."

"Amazing!"

"It's just Greek," Sherlock said, rather amused.

"I really like that name, Zantha MALL yeah."

"Little bit faster."

John sighed heavily, but tried it again. "Maybe I'll just stick to Zantha. What about your father? What was his name, back then?"

Sherlock wrote that one down as well. Níki Stratós. "In Greek, it would be NEE key Strah tos, means victory over army," He began. "But he was a foreigner from what is now Sweden. So in his native tongue, it would have been Siger, something like the name Sigar, Sagar or Segre we see today, which means great victory of an army. He was one of the best hunters of the time."

"Where do Scott & Holmes come from, then?"

"Technically, those aren't names," Sherlock said. "Scott in Scottish means wanderer. My family wandered around among a few villages, including Wycoller & the place in the Cheviots that is now a castle. In Greek, we would be called Nomás. Nomadic. As vampires, constantly going into hiding throughout the ages, we remained slightly nomadic, so Scott. Wanderer. We adopted that in later years. Holmes, in Old Norse, is someone living by the holly trees. Greek for holly is Prínos, so we used that at first, but when the language started changing, we switched to Holmes. There are several holly trees descendant from the old ones on the grounds in the Cheviots & our Wycoller home used to have five. Two were unfortunately cut down." He quickly focused his attention on the scope, moving something around.

"Why were they cut?" John asked. Sherlock continued to stare into the scope, but not really seeing. He finally looked up at John, but didn't say anything. John thought it over & suddenly realized. "Oh." Two execution stakes.

Sherlock checked the scope again. "As I thought. They match." John didn't bother asking, knowing it would all be explained soon, anyway. Sherlock got up, grabbed the paper he had written the names on to put away in a pocket of his coat & went for the door. Molly came in, followed by Anderson.

"So?" Molly asked.

"Definitely a match," Sherlock answered. "Anderson, may I borrow your mobile?" Anderson handed it over. Sherlock looked through it. "No one is that good at guessing passwords," He continued looking through the apps. "There it is." He turned the mobile over to show Anderson. "You didn't lose your mobile at the castle. Shane took it & added an app to let him know what it is whenever you change the password. Remove it & he won't bother you again." Anderson took his mobile back, glaring at the apps. Sherlock, John & Molly left the lab, with Anderson trailing behind, grumbling over his hacked mobile.

Sherlock led the way into the lobby where Alexander Vilein was waiting by the window. Molly gasped & ducked under a desk, making Anderson stumble over her.

"What are you doing?" Anderson asked as Sherlock stared at her for a moment before approaching Alexander.

"Go away!" Molly ordered. "I'm trying to hide from Alexander."

"He's got a bit of a crush on you, right?" Anderson put his mobile into his pocket.

"Shut up, Philip," Molly ordered in a hoarse whisper. She pointed in some general direction. "Go over there. Away! Before he sees me."

"You got caught up in a love triangle," Sherlock said to Alexander as Anderson moved away from Molly's hiding spot.

Alexander glanced around to find Sherlock coming up to him. "Not really. He didn't love her like I did."

"But both of them were of a higher class than you," Sherlock said. "Her parents wanted her to marry him & he had much more to offer her than you did by means of financial security."

"I know," Alexander said. "I mostly would have agreed but he didn't treat Diana very well. I wanted to get her out of that."

"In the process, you got caught in bed with her."

"How would you know that?" Alexander asked, slightly offended.

"Your descendants," Sherlock pointed out. "The first child she carried is yours. I obtained a DNA sample from the remains of her firstborn child who was born approximately nine months after you were turned & buried."

"You are using sorcery."

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, trying to be patient. "This is extremely advanced technology. You can learn to do it if you become a doctor. This man here," Sherlock pointed to someone sitting in a chair nearby, watching the procedure. "Is your great, great grandson. I cross-referenced his DNA with that from your son who lived & died over three hundred years ago & also with yours. Molly helped me obtain yours the other night."

Alexander stared at him as the man got up & came over. "You can trust the work of Detective Holmes. He never fails. I'm Thomas, by the way. Thomas White."

"White was Luke's last name, not mine."

"It's just a name," said Sherlock. "They never knew since she was already married to Luke. But you got to her first. He is yours, not Luke's. Thomas is White in name only. By blood, he is a Vilein."

"Even if that is true," Alexander began. "How is it possible to know this?"

"DNA," Sherlock repeated. "It's a fairly new science. Well, I say new. For your age, it is. If you wish to learn how, you would need to be schooled in science & medicine. But you can indeed learn how."

Thomas moved a little closer. "Unlike blood, names can be changed. I just found out my entire family history is all wrong, that a grandfather of mine is an immortal vampire. Detective Holmes is a vampire, too. He's around three thousand years old."

"I know," Alexander groaned. "We've met."

Sherlock scowled at him. "I brought you back."

"What about the vampire that turned me?" Alexander asked.

"He's an old friend of yours," Sherlock pointed upwards. All looked up to see a mist clinging to the ceiling. It floated down & dispersed.

"Eric?" Alexander gasped.

"Sorry," Eric said.

"Why did you turn me? As I understand it, one needs permission."

"If I didn't, someone else would have been sent to murder you. For real," Eric said. "When I heard what was going on, I offered to do it. But so I could save you. They didn't know what I am. I'm about a hundred years older than you."

"Save me?" Alexander's eyes turned red.

"Easy!" Sherlock stepped between them.

"He cursed me & left me in a pit for nearly four centuries."

"I didn't bury you!" Eric defended. "I turned you, but during your transition, I left before someone caught me & found out what I am. I never wanted you buried."

"You broke two of our laws that had been established before this happened," Sherlock said.

"Not helping my case, Detective."

"You are fortunate it was your first & so far only time you turned someone," Sherlock went on. "The Undead Law has taken into consideration the fact that Alexander was set up to be murdered, regardless & you did it to save him, despite your inexperience. However, you are still banned from granting requests to be turned, indefinitely."

"I know," Eric sighed as he said to Alexander. "But because of that, you got to meet your family. You have grandchildren."

"At least something good came out of this," Alexander tersely replied. "Though I am as yet unable to understand it. Thank you," He offered a hand to Sherlock who shook it. "I have a grandson, apparently. Having a child was all I ever wanted, even if I never got to meet them. Do you have children?"

Sherlock was stunned into silence but John pushed him aside. "Vampires are completely sterile," he hurriedly said. "You got Diana pregnant because you were still human. But you will never do that again. You got really lucky, that one & only time."

Molly watched the odd exchange from her position in hiding under the desk. Sherlock was backing away from the group & eventually turned to head through the doors to the hall. She pulled herself out & stood up in his way as he came by. They gazed at each other. She could see that hint of sadness & far off look that she had seen once before, when they were dealing with Moriarty. "Oh no," Molly whispered. Sherlock marched by her without a single word. Not knowing what else to do, she followed at a distance, until they got to the lab. Molly hesitated at the door before going in after him. She waited while Sherlock put the place to rights after using it. He cleaned the microscope, emptied & cleaned the vials & put them on the shelf, returning them to her, then leaned on the long silver-topped table.

Molly saw him. Molly always saw right through him, more so than even John. Sherlock suddenly punched the top of it, startling her. "Three of them, aged five & under."

Molly moved closer. "What happened?"

"Three thousand years ago?" Sherlock rhetorically asked. "That was around the time we were plagued by what is now known to be smallpox. Killed everyone it touched. Their mother, too."

They stood in silence for a while. Molly went to the other desk, busying herself by putting things away. Sherlock had moments, but wasn't one to linger much in them. "So," Molly spoke at last. "Another case closed." Sherlock stood straight, watching her. Molly went on. "Now, if you can figure out that hotel, next."

Sherlock half smiled at her. "Thank you, Molly."

"Any time," Molly said as he left. She didn't drag out the topic of his lost family. She didn't ask more questions, only offered a distraction & a new thing to focus on. Something he needed to move forward.