Twenty-six days later, Molly is still in her home. She was lucky to have rarely ever taken a vacation from her job, so she had weeks saved up. A few times in the past weeks, the hunger had completely overcome her, and she had resorted to going outside only to drink the blood from small animals, such as a groundhog, squirrel, and even a dying bird. She shudders in utter disgust just thinking about how she felt and how gross the smells were once she had drained them. As of right now, she hadn't fed for nearly a week, refusing to kill anymore creatures for next to no result. She can feel her body deteriorating and dying, as her thirty days of being a fledgling are nearly up. Her partly mortal body will die soon for good and Molly Hooper will be no more on this Earth.
She feels a heavy feeling of sadness and fear, but in the end the damn hunger always wins out over the rest. Molly shuffles over to her mirror, the reflection of herself still wonky. Despite that, she can make up how shockingly pasty her skin looks, how brittle her hair has become, and how purplish grey her lips have turned. Under them, her sharp fangs peek out, signaling the intense burning hunger that she feels within herself. She looks like a walking corpse, despite her razor-sharp fangs. Then again, she realizes, she basically is a walking corpse.
Sherlock had come by many, many times in the past three weeks, trying to get her to open the door and let him in, which she refused. She didn't want to take the risk of hurting him, of feasting on him. He matters too much to her to ever harm him, or even risk harming him. It wasn't an option.
However, she had done more extensive research on vampirism during her self-quarantine. She found this website based on people who claim they are real vampires, there to help other real vampires (who weren't the evil murdering type). Molly found out that you can feed from humans without turning them. The only way to properly infect someone with vampirism is to bite very deeply into the carotid artery in the neck, which isn't necessary just to feed, as human skin is delicate and will bleed with even a soft bite. When biting deeply into the carotid, a vampire's saliva, venom, and their victim's blood mix to create the vampirism virus. If you are conscious, it's extremely painful and feels like you're being burned alive. If you are unconscious, as Molly was (luckily?), you usually don't feel it because the vamp who turned you most likely meant to only drain you, and you are very weak. Usually this will be a new vamp who is not familiar with the specifics of feeding on humans. If a vampire is purposely trying to turn someone, it's best to turn them then immediately kill them quickly (such as a snap of the neck with superspeed/strength), so they won't feel the pain.
The venom spreads so fast through their bloodstream that it would take over the body before the heart or brain stopped sending electrical pulses through it. However, if you are trying to turn someone (or if you weren't trying to but did), and had drank a large amount or nearly drained them and they are now unconscious, it may take them hours to wake up as a fledgling. This depends on how drained of blood they were, how long it takes the venom to reach the heart and brain as well as their DNA, due to lack of blood supply, and how long the venom will take to refill their blood supply. Vampire venom does has healing agents, which is why dead victims who are turned immediately thereafter are turned, and don't stay dead. The fact that Molly survived her attack and was turned instead of dead and drained was simply a fluke by the vamp who attacked her. Molly wonders if he or she got scared off before he could completely finish her off, as well as if he actually meant to turn her.
She must have read for hours the other day; about her speed, her strength, how to compel a human (to make them do your will without remembering), and how her blood can heal a human with one taste. Molly admits to herself that if she were a terrible person, she'd have the inclination to finally make Sherlock hers with compulsion...but she's not a terrible person, and she'd never do anything to him against his will. It is a bit comforting to know that she could heal him if he were hurt though. In another paragraph, it told her that some humans are more susceptible to a vampire bite and may actually take some pleasure from being fed on, especially if they already have feelings for the vampire, or are conditioned to bask in the supernatural or other oddities. Molly chews her lip, wondering if Sherlock would fit that category—not that she would EVER bite him or hurt him!
Her fangs finally go away, even as she sighs with frustration and thirst. Molly walks over to her coffee table, looking at the array of paperwork spread out among it. This was another thing she was working on while stuck in her home. Her will, her last wishes, the method in which she would like to be buried- low cost wooden coffin, because in her mind it's ridiculous to spend thousands on a fancy box you'll never feel or see. She opted not to go for cremation, since she knows all too well the feeling of her skin burning. No thanks.
She left her assets to her little brother, of whom she never told of her upcoming demise. Molly doesn't think that she would be able to handle saying goodbye to him, or anyone else for that matter. The important thing is that Sherlock knows so that he can find her body when her time has finally lapsed, and she is no longer. She put in her will that she did not want an autopsy yet wonders what they will rule her death as. Usually when it's so unknown, they rule as suicide. Of course, she thinks, Sherlock will never let that stand, as he knows she would never do that to the people she cares about. Not to Matty and not to her friends. Maybe they could just blame it on some sort of undiscovered disease...that would technically be true. Vampirism is a sort of disease, however incurable.
As Molly signs the last of the paperwork and places it into a neat file, she runs a hand through her hair, a small clump coming out into her hand. She sighs sadly and throws it away. Suddenly she hears the familiar pounding on her door. Her lids close in resentment, wanting more than anything to let him in, per usual, but knowing in her heart that she can't without putting the man she loves in danger.
"Go away Sherlock!" she tries to shout, her voice extremely scratchy and dry with burning hunger.
"Molly, let me in! I need to see you. Please."
"No. Go away. You can pick up my body in a few more days."
"Molly...please", he sounds choked up, in uncharacteristic grief. "Please. I need to see you, even if it's one last time...I- I need to talk to you."
Molly tears up and rubs her face. "I can't...you know I can't. It's not about strength or will anymore. It's about real danger to you. It's about me not being able to stop myself anymore if you step foot in here. I-I haven't fed for a week, and going by the animals I have fed from, it's like I haven't really fed in a month. I am absolutely, uncontrollably starving. You can't come in...", her breath speeds up as his heartbeat registers and thumps loudly in her ears, jumping a bit when he hears her pain.
"I don't care. I told you I won't let you die. I can't let you die. After everything I've ever done to you, and how far we have come, I cannot lose you now, Molly. Please, I can't. I have been doing extensive research and...and...I trust you completely. I know you won't kill me. I know you won't even turn me. But you /can/ feed from me. You have done so so much for me in the past. Please let me do this for you...please."
"Why?" Molly snaps darkly. "So you can be my savior again? So you can swoop in like superman and save poor, miniscule, sucker, Molly Hooper?"
"No. So I can say thank you. So I can repay you. Molly, I know you don't want to die. Please Molly...please just let me in."
"I'm already dead, Sherlock. Feeding won't change that. Like I said before, what would that even mean for my life? I couldn't possibly have a normal life anymore."
"You can for as long as possible. I'll...I'll make sure of it. I'll be there as you work, as you ease into society. I'll be your personal blood bag. I'll curb your cravings. Let me repay you for all the years you have done everything for me. Just let me."
Molly stays quiet and curls up, the burning in her throat gaining traction and she listens intently to his pounding heartbeat. It pumps to such a desperate and needy beat; such a sad, wanton rhythm. Before her brain even registers what he's done, Molly smells the delicious scent of him, and the slight taste of his blood within her senses. She hisses in warning and involuntarily speeds off of her couch and upright; her fangs out and threatening, her sclera blood red, and the veins under her lower lids dark blue and bubbling under her skin. "Get...out...Sherlock."
Sherlock swallows and closes her door, looking at her pleadingly holding his hand out in an attempt to calm her or ease her anger. "J-Just...just hear me out. I know this hurts you, and I don't want to hurt you, Molly."
Molly licks her lips, baring her fangs at him, still in her predatory form. "I...I can't control this anymore Sherlock...please go before I kill you."
"You won't kill me. If there is one person I have implicit trust in, even as a vampire, it's you Molly. A-And if you really do choose to die, I...I need you to know that I love you. I know...I know that Sherrinford happened and we are past that and we are or were on great terms again, but I want to solidify that it's true. That hasn't changed just because you have. In fact, it's pretty classic that I discover my feelings the second you become immortal huh...", he rubs the back of his neck awkwardly as he sadly watches the very heart of Molly Hooper come out of her in the form of large tears released from her blood red eyes.
"Y-You know how I feel about you...but I can't do this. Not now, not ever. Not anymore. You have to go before I attack you because it burns so much...the thirst...the impulse to attack you is building...please GO!" she screams at him. "LEAVE! GO, NOW HURRY!", her voice cracks, the guilt and pain seeping out into her fiercely protective but harsh words.
Instead of leaving, Sherlock steps closer to her, seeing how gaunt and pasty she looks from lack of sustenance. Molly stumbles back and pants hard, hissing at him again in warning. "I'm not afraid of you, Molly. I'm not..." Sherlock murmurs softly and deeply. "Let me help you..."
Molly shakes her head hard and tries to scare him away, her attempts failing as Sherlock reaches her and very carefully cups her face. Molly breathes hard, her long, sharp fangs longing for his pulse, yet her moral goodness and heart makes her lean into his warm touch, her eyes fluttering closed. Sherlock swallows hard and softly brushes his thumbs over the bubbling veins coming from her eyelids down to the top of her cheeks. Looking over her face, he slowly leans in and kisses her, being careful of her fangs. Molly gasps sharply and her fangs temporarily retract as she kisses him back hungrily and deeply, drinking in the mere scent of his skin and taste of his tongue.
Sherlock groans softly and kisses back with passion, pulling her cool body against his hot one, continuing to snog her desperately. After a moment, Molly's hunger overcomes her again and she speeds them over to the wall, pushing Sherlock hard against it and pinning him there with her strength. Sherlock stares at her with a new, lustful look in his eyes, which are very dilated. Molly captures his lips again hard and resumes snogging him, roaming her hands over his torso. Her cool hands, separated by only the thin fabric of his shirt, nearly electrify him and he slips his hands under her tee, stroking her chilly sides with his warm hands. Molly moans seductively and keeps kissing until her fangs come out again. As they do, Sherlock nudges her away in order for him to breathe, which Molly no longer has use for. However, one of her fangs nicks his lip and he gasps softly at the cut.
Molly stares and her jaw drops. She quickly covers her mouth and fangs, staggering backwards. The scent of even that tiny bead of blood upon his perfectly sexy oxbow lips is completely overpowering. She whines and looks petrified, her eye veins bulging more than they had before. Sherlock pants hard with arousal and adrenaline, leaving the spot of blood upon his lower lip.
"I am yours to take, Molly Hooper. Please drink...I need you around for a very long time. Please...please. Let me do this for you Molly." His voice is very deep and velvety; extremely enticing. Molly whimpers and slowly moves closer to him again, losing her fighting battle to deny herself his blood. The glorious, glimmering red bead on his lip calls to her senses, forcing her to listen to every single predatory instinct she has.
Molly growls and speeds over to him, grabbing him close. Sherlock gasps at the quickness, then soon moans her name as Molly hungrily sucks his lower lip. Sherlock sinks his fingers into her hair. When Molly pulls away from his lip, fiercely frustrated by the lack of bloodstream there, Sherlock gently guides her head to his neck, tilting it to the side and urging her forward gently.
"Drink...I am yours. Let me help you, let me show you how much I care. I trust you with my life Molly Hooper. Drink..." his low baritone murmurs and reverberates in her sensitive eardrums.
Molly hisses hungrily and finally gives into the raging hunger, holding his body tightly and biting into his neck, being very careful and reminding herself over and over not to bite too deeply, despite her desperate need for his warm, tantalizing blood in her throat. She drinks from him hungrily, a gigantic wave of warmth and ecstasy washing over her entire being. His blood is like a drug, the most delicious thing she has ever tasted, and absolutely, dangerously addictive.
Sherlock grimaces at the initial pain then strokes her thickening and softening hair, gently encouraging her. A wave of pleasure washes over him as she sucks at his neck and swallows his blood, and he allows his eyes to slip closed as lustful moans escape his now plumper lips. "Molly...mmm...ohhh Molly...", he pants. Her fingertips grip the flesh of his bicep and shoulder hard enough to bruise, but he doesn't even mind, soaking up every single moment of this perilously intimate moment with her, his adrenaline completely maxed out in this euphoric feeling.