A/N: As always thanks you AussieMaelstrom for beta and general support.

Thank you for the lovely response and general interest for this story, however, I must warn you.

This is not a pretty story, quite the opposite - here are future warnings; graphic depictions of violence, dubious consent, tw: blood, blood kink, etc - if any of those things frighten you - you might want to take a step back, if not - read on. And sorry if anyone confused this with John/Sherlock? Since tagging more than one character ended with FFnet assuming this was Johnlock. I laughed, at least.

There's a drumming noise inside my head

That starts when you're around

I swear that you could hear it

It makes such an almighty sound

1989 PT 2

She was swaying all of a sudden, her vision slowly becoming unclear, and her hearing weakening. Mycroft stood talking besides her, though she could not hear a word of it only seeing his mouth move, while blinking furiously at the weak light that became like the sun in her eyes, hearing her heart thundering in her chest rising to her throat, while her breathing grew deep and desperate for air. Molly felt angered, overwhelmed – so many thoughts twisted through her head, thoughts that did not belong to her followed with ideas, words, memories – things she'd never seen, nor felt, nor heard of.

"Master," whispered a voice dripping of derision, one that she could hear clearly in her head, the word echoing in the tomb over the wind that knocked the door open. There was a sudden flash of light – Molly fell to the floor – catching a glimpse of Mrs Hudson carrying a torch with a worried expression. She was certain she heard the older woman tut loudly, "Mycroft!"

She came to, slowly feeling the warmth of the fire crackling behind her, hearing the voice of two people speaking, gradually realising she wasn't in her bed at her aunt Lucy's. Instead Molly remembered where she was, feeling her stomach churn at the idea that it wasn't all a very peculiar dream.

" – You should just let the poor dear sleep," said the voice of Mrs Hudson.

"She must understand," said Mycroft.

"She can understand after a good night's sleep."

"I will not be here to greet her in the morning, as you are well aware I am needed in London."

"Can't they sort it out themselves?"

"They like to think so, of course, but there is uneasiness in our government – I believe the iron lady will soon have to give up her post."

Mrs Hudson only tutted, "I'll sort out the poor dear's dinner."

"I do not think she will-,"

"She will have to, Mycroft Holmes. I remember what happened last time – after all – and she needs to eat."

"Fine, Mrs Hudson," said Mycroft with a sigh.

A door was smacked shut with a loud thud forcing her to awaken properly. Molly opened her eyes finding herself in the study, they'd sat her in a comfortable chair with a large thick blanket wrapped around her, "Molly," said Mycroft inclining his head to her, as he stood without his dress-jacket, his hands in his pockets, "Awake, then?"

She swallowed shivering slightly, feeling perspiration underneath her clothes, as her teeth chattered, "Y-y-yes," she said trembling, a nervous expression crossing her face, since she hadn't felt ill at all when she'd travelled there.

"Unfortunately what you are feeling now are the ill effects of your connection with my brother," he said wandering over to several crystal bottles that contained red, whether or not it was actually wine she didn't know, but she didn't wish to ask either.

She frowned, while she suddenly felt an indescribable ache in her head, like a stab to her senses, "Connection?" she said.

Mycroft smirked while he let the contents of his glass swirl in his hand, taking a long sip, until he said, "Yes – you and my brother share the same blood."

"What – what – does that mean?" she said barely able to string the words together, suppressing the various emotions that fluttered through her head, ones that she felt were not her own confused thoughts.

"There are ways to reawaken a vampire…of course I was unsure if it would indeed work since you did not display any form of talent until we were in the cellar…"

"Ta – talent?"

"You did not follow my command. Vampires, and yes I am one – Molly – we have control over the weak-minded – the mortals who wander this earth. Any of them would have cowered to my authority, but you are of the same material as your father."

"You mean, when you went funny?"

"That is a remarkable way of putting it yes, but you are quite right – the concept is quite funny."

She blinked, opening her mouth trying to get more words out, but she found herself unable to – Mycroft seemed to be following her thread of thought, "Your father worked tirelessly to banish evil from this world of ours – he was a hunter of my kind, Miss Hooper."

She gaped at him, her hand pressed to her head, as she tried to subdue the pain by rubbing at her temples, "Then – why – why are you alive?"

He smiled taking a seat in a chair besides her, leaning properly back, as he took another nip of his drink, "You have heard of us monsters before - have you not? We have been found in literature throughout the years, us mystical creatures that dwell in the night thirsting for human blood, but there is one fact that they have gotten wrong – we do have souls – we are not the empty evil shells they have made us out to be, neither do we look particularly unsavoury to the common eye."

"A soul? Does that mean you can't kill?"

"Oh, I can kill if I so wish, but – with that kill, the more innocent the creature I touch, the more I will feel all of their agony, their joy, their entirely life in one unbearable drink, while they turn lifeless in my hands. It is strengthened ten-fold of course, as drinking of a live human is the same as experiencing all the potential they had and didn't have when you end their life."

He paused briefly, "There are of course others, those are the ones your father went after – those without remorse, without soul."

Mycroft must have read her confused expression, for he continued, "When one is bit, whether it be by force or by willingness – depending on how clean your soul is – you will still keep the goodness in your heart, which is why I am cursed with empathy," he laughed slightly, "I feared death above all things, so when I turned ill – I did all in my power not to die, yet there are still ways for us to perish – some of us easier than others. We might be stronger, quicker, and better than ordinary humans, but as you saw with my brother – there are ways to cut down the best of us – and he was without a doubt – the best."

"How did he die?" she asked in a small weak voice.

He ignored her question, "There are more pressing matters at hand, for example your education must be taken into consideration – and no – I am not speaking of school. No, you must learn as your father did. She will be an excellent instructor to you, Mrs Hudson - as she is one of the few who know all of the ways. You have a great deal of power in you, strength that can be compared to ours, of course – which is why you are in danger. Your father should have taught you at an early age, however he thought that due to your mother being ordinary that perhaps there was none in you. I had supposed as much myself – I have been keeping an eye on you, though it seems so have others. You are a danger to them for you are young, there is much potential to be found in you Miss Hooper – time will show if you will excel in your powers, from all we know you will be stronger than your father."

Molly stared into the fireplace, her brown eyes flicking towards Mycroft, "My mum used to work in the hospital – I've – I've seen a lot…but my dad was a vampire killer?"

"Didn't you ever wonder where your father went during his travels? He tried to keep his life separate from yours, securing your happiness, but also ensuring your doom. Arthur is most likely dead due to his own carelessness."

"He wasn't careless," she said protesting.

"No, he was a sentimental fool. Your father was a great man, yes, but he was overrun with feelings regarding the loss of your mother. He knew what the risks were involving himself with another, as your mother did. Her work and his were connected in some ways, though her healing the sick was perhaps not exactly the same as seeing a corpse re-animating itself."

Molly didn't argue, too weak to do so wondering just how much her father had lied to her, as it was obvious that his last days had been finally used to tell the truth, even how farfetched it seemed at the time, but another thought cluttered her head, "How am I his master?"

"You gave him life - he owes his existence to you now – as I said – you and he are connected, the pain coursing through you now is his, but you are only feeling a tenth of it. When he has entirely recovered he will have control enough to make you not feel his thoughts or his pain if he were to have anymore, but even after that – you will still be aware of his feelings and intentions though minor to this. He cannot hide from you, Molly – you can see him – as he will see you."

"But – I didn't-,"

"It is for your safety – you do not understand your power quite yet – you are as they say – ripe to be plucked – they are seeking you out, so they can destroy you. You are…humanity's hope – we have been living in a time of peace, but unrest has been brewing. We are at the start of a war, for there are more than vampires out there – all of those creatures – are mentioned in that journal of yours."

"And I – I have to kill them?" she said wide-eyed.

"No – not all of them no – they will show themselves. Not many of these creatures intend any harm; the majority of them are content living a diplomatic life, while others are inclined to various degrees of carnage. They know if you are taught properly they cannot follow through with their plans, but now – they are also aware that you have awakened my brother."

"Just like that?"

"There are ranks – yes – even vampires have such, of course there is a certain animosity for us, as we are socially accepted due to our humanity. Particularly loathed due to the fact that we have aided humans in special circumstances like now, but you are of course wondering why – I – myself am not your minder?"

Molly gave a slow nod at that, while Mycroft continued, "My brother – is quite special – if he were an ordinary man he would still be extraordinary – he is most suitable in all aspects to have you as his charge. He never did feel adequate in the time we were brought up in, always having these projects of his - meddling too much," he paused briefly looking suddenly wearier, "Sherlock never chose this life – this life – chose him."

Molly felt stupid for wondering, maybe it was an obvious thing to those like him, "If he's so powerful – why was he – dead?"

"It would perhaps be better if you asked how he was bitten," he said with a snort.

"Ok…how was he bitten?"

Mycroft gave her a look at that clearly amused, "I think it is time for you to eat your dinner. You will need it to get through the night – his pain at being awoken will certainly weaken you."

He stood up at that intending to leave, while she sat trying to get over her nausea, "I don't – I don't want to be anyone's master," she said defiantly, some strength coming to her at last, as she tilted her chin upwards.

He looked at her, his eyes glinting, "Which is exactly why I allowed it to happen – no one willing should be given such power – you won't abuse your power, there is far too much good in you for that…and that is exactly what my brother needs."

She felt unexpected anger flare up in her mind, aggravation over Mycroft, over his assumptions, causing her to moan over the pain in her head, "Do have some rest - Mrs Hudson will take care of all of the arrangements. You will be living in London from now on…good night, Molly." However, he stilled by the door, turning to her, "A word to the wise – do try not to fall in love with him."

He left at that, leaving her to even more confusing thoughts that it felt as if her head would burst open any second. Mrs Hudson soon came scurrying happily in with a tray, though when she saw Molly's face she brought her to one of the bedrooms, quickly getting her into the four-poster bed helping her change into a white night-shirt. When she was safely tucked underneath the covers it was apparent that she barely could hold the spoon to her soup, so Mrs Hudson sat upon the bed slowly feeding her with the warmth broth, "I won't try to mother you too much," said Mrs Hudson with a warm smile, "You're probably too old for that."

"No, it's fine," said Molly feeling herself tearing up for no reason at all, the warm tears leaking down her hot cheeks, "Is it – is it always like this?" She wasn't sad, tired perhaps – and a great deal confused. Molly knew it had to be Mycroft's brother who was inducing these tears, making her wonder why he was so…sad.

"It will be easier," said Mrs Hudson with a knowing look.

"Are you-," she started, though the woman promptly stuffed the spoon into her mouth. Obviously Molly wasn't the only one who'd made a sacrifice once to reawaken a vampire. She kept her mouth shut with the understanding that if it were so, Mrs Hudson wasn't willing to talk about it.

"Sherlock – I've missed him - though he always made a mess of things," she said collecting pieces of chicken with a spoon, until she slipped it into Molly's mouth.

Molly swallowed, "How long has he been dead?"

"A very long time, I was only eighteen when he fell asleep. I didn't know him as well as I do Mycroft."

"How old are you?" said Molly confused.

Mrs Hudson smiled, "Older than I look – we – live longer dear, it's a load, really - in a way."

"You're the same as me, then?" she said remembering that Mycroft mentioned Mrs Hudson would teach her.

"Oh, yes, I didn't ask for it – I was only six when I was told, it's a heavy burden to carry, knowing all that - at such a young age, but you are lucky having just found out – you're more than ready for it – even if you are, in his eyes, only a child."

Molly wasn't surprised, "He's a bit scary though, not in a bad way – but – I wish he'd told me before we did it," she said wondering why Mycroft was keeping certain things from her. She didn't entirely understand, for she had more questions than answers now.

"I meant Sherlock, dear," said Mrs Hudson correcting her.

Molly looked at the woman fearfully for a second, as Mrs Hudson set the bowl of soup on the nightstand, "I'll leave this here for you, in case you get hungry. Just give me a shout – and I'll come, I'll be a bit slow due to the hip, mind you," she said smiling taking to stand up from the bed, putting her hand on Molly's forehead, "Keep yourself nice and warm underneath the covers – though – and do – try to sleep dear."

Mrs Hudson shut the door to the bedroom softly, though Molly who had been tired not so long ago felt suddenly quite rejuvenated, suspecting that the broth she'd been given was special in a way, though the minute she started to sit up in the bed a new wave of agony hit her head. It was overpowering, it was all-too confusing, if this was only a tenth of what he was feeling – how on earth did he cope? There were many thoughts that raced through her head, while she tried to drift off to sleep, until she finally slept… However she was still moving in the bed constantly flinging off her covers feeling feverish.

The door to her bedroom opened slowly, a man walking in – his feet unclothed making no sound against the carpet. He stood by the bed, his steely blue eyes luminous, while he surveyed the sleeping form underneath the sheets seeming exasperated, before he rested his cold palm upon her hot forehead stilling her entirely – a low sigh released from her lips, as the tension disappeared from her features – only a content smile to be seen. He slowly moved his hand and removed himself from her bedroom; upon closing the door he heard the familiar drawl from his brother, "Back from the dead, are we?"

"Hardly," he said, his face set, as his eyes flew towards Mycroft mingled with various emotions, but above all others – annoyance, "Must be irritating."

"I have missed having you around."

"You should have let me sleep."

"Things have taken a turn for the worst, Sherlock. England is not the England you knew."

"Good," he said with a bored expression, before walking along the darkened hallway, his brother closely followed his long strides with ease.

"I am, however, glad you had the decency to dress this time," Mycroft said, his eyes shimmering a brief red, obviously to assert his dominance, but it did not work.

"Yes – I see you have things in my size – wishful thinking, perhaps? A diet is as difficult enough to maintain for us, as it was when you were alive, best not attempt it dead."

Mycroft gave a laugh, though his expression turned serious, as he stopped walking prompting Sherlock to turn to look at him, "You know you will need to finish it, or else it will have all been pointless."

"No."

"Why not?"

"She is only a child."

"She is sixteen – hardly a child."

"She was wearing a school-uniform when she came, which I suspect will be cleaned – I won't have you parading her around."

"We do not yet know what is after her, however I have my suspicions that it is one of your old friends."

Sherlock's face convulsed briefly, his face a blank mask after that, though his brother caught the brief horror.

"You know what he seeks, if you do not act now – he will find her – he will break her – until she is as empty as he is – you will only break her heart…" Sherlock heard the un-uttered word, the thought threaded through his brother's mind – again. It was there; hidden amongst the other plans his brother weaved unknowingly to them all.

"You are not in control of my life," he said through gritted teeth his eyes of unfathomable red, causing his brother to take a step back, though Mycroft only took to laugh.

"No, I am not – Molly Hooper is," his brother said, "Goodnight brother, pleasant dreams."

Sherlock knew there was no other way of fortifying her for now, so she would not become a target to any other, as they would do their best to use her for their cause if they had a chance. He would attempt to post-pone it, however best he would, for he knew that she was safe for now, until Professor Moriarty would come to claim his prize.

Molly didn't know how early she'd been woken, before she'd promptly been guided into the dining room for breakfast, still in a nightie, and an all-too large blue dressing gown, which made her feel rather small, but she felt it was better than wandering about in her school-clothes that were being washed. She never suspected she would have to spend the night, skiving another day off school, which was a record for her.

She wondered if her aunt Lucy was at all wondering where she was. Her aunt was perhaps glad to get rid of her, especially since the money would still be pouring in even without her presence. Upon entering the dining room she was taken aback by the sunlight that streamed through the large windows, happy that it wasn't unusually dark like the rest of the rooms, which she suspected was due to Mycroft's condition, if vampires did indeed spend their time in the dark that was, but that could in fact just be fictitious too. She knew that she should be pouring over the pages of her father's journal trying to seek all the facts, as they were most likely disclosed in there, even how much she disliked having to look at them as truth.

Though nothing could have ever prepared her for the sight of the man sitting at the end of the table with a newspaper propped up in front of him, she stopped in surprise, her hand held in front of her face shielding her from the sun, "Oh – sorry – I-," she said.

The newspaper was dropped an inch or two, revealing the pale-faced man, "Molly," he said – her name sounded strange with his baritone voice, causing her to halt, for she recognised it as the whisper in the woods.

She gaped slightly, for here he was - Sherlock – the man in the tomb looking quite the opposite of what he had been when she first caught sight of his decrepit body, "You're – you're-," she started, her eyes getting caught in the stream of the sunlight, until they flew towards him wondering briefly if it was rude to ask instead of consulting the journal.

There was something ethereal about his look; his dark curls hung low on his forehead making his cheek-bones more prominent, if she weren't so surprised she would have thought him handsome, but she had already thought that upon seeing his portrait (a thought she tried to dismiss now).

"Sunshine, yes," he quipped his eyes turning towards the paper, "The weather has certainly taken a turn for the better since I was last here," he said making it almost sound like he'd been on a holiday, "1989 – what a time to be alive." He didn't sound terribly excited merrily bored by it all, like in his portrait.

Molly felt herself turn red; quickly binding the ropes of her robe hoping she didn't look like such a child, but she suspected in the eyes of a man who lived for so long, however youthful he looked, she was probably barely anything to him.

Her embarrassment for not being properly dressed diminished when she caught sight of him wearing a robe similar to hers, and she soon realised that she was perhaps wearing his clothes. Instead of standing gaping like a fool she hastened to the table sitting at the opposite end of him, only to realise that she was being impolite and was about to change her seat, when he said, "That will do."

It was a command; she could hear the words practically vibrate on her skin, though it did not affect her whatsoever, except that it made her amazed at how low his voice could become.

She only sat down again when she noted that there was food at her end of the table – none at his – except a cup of coffee. Mycroft had said his brother was different, though she didn't entirely know what an ordinary vampire was either, and if the movies were anything to go by, they didn't consume human food.

His eyes turned to her making her realise she was openly staring, his brows furrowed, and she instantly paid attention to her plate quickly buttering some toast, staring at the wide assortment in front of her – briefly wondering why she wasn't as hungry as usual, for she enjoyed breakfast quite a lot. "You must be hungry," he said not looking up from his paper smiling slightly, however it did not reach his eyes.

"Eat," he said.

She did eat more than enough, her eyes wandering every so often, and quite frequently landing on the mysterious man at the end of her table – the vampire, that was - a vampire who was up at sunrise and drinking coffee of all things.

Molly didn't know what to do when she couldn't eat anymore, briefly recalling that Mycroft had mentioned her moving to London, which she was surprised at. She had thought it would be safer living with her aunt…or perhaps, them? However she knew that there was no home for her in either of those options, the only home she'd ever had was gone, and it had always been full of life, of laughter, and now she would be living alone.

The idea shook her, for she knew that she only had a few things in her ruck-sack and her school-uniform. She didn't know if they'd allow her to go back to school considering things. Her life had taken quite the unexpected turn, and she didn't know if it sparked horror or joy, somehow, despite it all - it was the latter – for she could feel the imminent burst of excitement. She wasn't plain Molly, or mousy Molly anymore – she had brought a man back to life, and that wasn't something many could boast about.

"I do hope you'll stop thinking, it is giving me a head-ache. My brother will have taken all of those details into consideration anyway."

She stared at him in shock – Mycroft had spoken of them being able to feel one another's emotions, but, "You can – you can hear my thoughts?" she blurted out.

"No," he said flinging the newspaper on the table in annoyance, hurriedly standing up, "I can feel them."

He walked towards the door while she sat blinking furiously in her chair, feeling a sudden surge of irritation course through her – one that wasn't hers – replaced with sudden elation, which made her brows connect, until it simmered down – "Is it always going to be like this?" she asked quietly.

His back was to her, as he stood in the doorway, "The more apart we are – it will lessen," he said though she knew he was lying. She didn't need to see his face, or feel his thoughts linger in her mind, for she could hear it in his voice.

"What does it mean?"

"Further than that you do not need to know," he said and with that he left, his robe swirling behind his back.

Molly was left to her own annoyance this time, turning into confusion when she finally got handed her ruck-sack, and sat with the journal – Vampires do not dwell in light. They must move in the dark.

Mycroft had left during the night for business, as Mrs Hudson soon informed her that he had a position with the government,

"But – he's a vampire - do they know?" she asked, while they were wandering outside on the grounds, taking in the sun and the air, so Molly could ask her questions undisturbed or without the judging eye of Sherlock who she supposed didn't like her much. She didn't feel like stressing her power over him for she'd been left a letter from Mycroft –

Miss Hooper,

My brother, however acquainted he is with the fact that you are his master will not bow to you if you do not remind him. I know that the idea does not indulge your whims, however it will make the transition easier for you both if you do. He is quite obstinate for a man his age, and will most likely argue his ways anyway, so it is best to be as concise as possible if you are to have any control of the matters at hand.

In consideration to your future home I will seek out a place in London, I know of a few good spots, and will find one that both you and Mrs Hudson will reside in, so you can begin your tutelage with no harm done. You will of course have your privacy, though she will be at hand if she is ever needed. Do listen to her - she might seem old, but she is much more than that. If there is one who can teach you all of the ways it is she.

No one could best her in her day, listen to her carefully, and you can take your tutelage besides your school. Do not worry about money for all of it will be taken care of.

I owed your father a favour after all.

Mycroft H.

"Oh yes, most of the cabinet are vampires, dear. That's why they're so stingy with new opinions," she said with a laugh, though Mrs Hudson soon told her that Mycroft had positioned himself quite high up, and no one asked many questions really, when he oversaw them, of course the fact that there indeed were actual vampires in the cabinet did make her giggle, "They manage to wander about with umbrellas or loads of sunscreen, which is why they're a pasty lot, you know. Mycroft keeps an umbrella always at hand, just for that."

"No one ever wonders why?"

"He tells them he has a skin condition, it's quite easy dear, many vampires walk about London without anyone minding them."

"But – what – what about Sherlock?"

"What about him?"

"He was having breakfast – I mean he was sitting in the sun, and in dad's journal that's not supposed to be possible."

Mrs Hudson shook her head slightly, "Oh, he loves doing that – gave me a right fright that did - the first time I saw him wander about in broad daylight."

"Is he really a vampire?"

Mrs Hudson smiled, "Very much so, though he's different from the lot of them."

"Why?"

She looked at her at that, her eyes twinkling, "That's for him to answer really, you'll find out soon enough I suppose, but it's not my place to tell you."

"Oh," said Molly frustrated.

"Its better you don't know really, dear. It's not a pleasant story exactly."

"Ok, but – how – do you know how he died?"

"Yes."

"You're not going to tell me, are you?"

"No – I can tell you about our neighbours and the gossip about, but none about those things."

Molly frowned, though she soon grinned, "I'm glad you're coming with me Mrs Hudson. I was – I was a bit afraid I'd be alone."

"You'll get tired of me, dear - I'm sure – but I'll fatten you up at least with my home cooked meals, it'll be good taking care of someone – though I am not going to mind you all the time. At least Mycroft seems to plan to leave for London too, things are getting trickier at work for him, I suppose."

"I heard – he was talking about Margaret Thatcher."

"Oh, yes, never liked her."

"Is she a vampire?"

"No, unfortunately not – it would make her easier to forgive though."

"Mrs Hudson – is it…hard learning to fight?"

"Everything is to begin with, but you aren't weak dear, so don't be scared – let's get in."

"I'm not as scared, as I am to let anyone down. I didn't expect this - just last week I thought my biggest hurdle were my exams, and now – someone's – or anything really is trying to kill me. I just don't want to be a burden to any of you. I thought I was coming here, for well, I don't know…"

"Don't fidget dear, it'll be fine - promise," said Mrs Hudson.

The pair of them walked back to the house as rain started to fall amidst the sunshine, it was then, when Molly was by the stony steps that she felt slightly dizzy, her eyes turned towards the gate where she saw Sherlock striding in pushing the gates open in the rain – his shirt drenched in red. If it was blood, for she suspected it was – he looked rather calm, and he briefly met her eye. She was perhaps not scared of him, though she felt like she should be.

Her fear for the mysterious Holmes brother increased ten-fold during her search in the pages of the journal to find any explanation to his existence, to why he could dwell underneath the sun without any trouble, but there were none. She was sitting in her newly cleaned school-uniform in the library that evening after dinner where Mrs Hudson explained that Sherlock used to hunt in those exact forests, "There's less there now, only wild rabbits," but she didn't dwell on the topic longer than that, only adding the fact that their kitchens were well-stocked with blood from the hospital that Mycroft used, "Anything else would be rather unhygienic, dear," she said with a sigh, obviously annoyed with Sherlock's antics.

Molly, however, was surprised that he didn't join them, though she was under the distinct impression that he was avoiding her, which somehow felt rather frustrating to her. She didn't know, but most of her time she felt rather cooped up, and it was just her second day there. It didn't take her long to understand that it was his emotions that cluttered her mind with suppressed anger.

He was angry with her, she supposed, or could gather from his emotions, whether or not it was due to her awakening him, or being his master she couldn't figure out. While she sat trying to read the journal that explained vampires fully, it became apparent that he did not fit the mould whatsoever; he did not dwell in the dark, or seem to frown upon human food, since Mrs Hudson had excused him from the dinner telling her he was busy. He wasn't a regular vampire at all, not like his brother, and she wasn't scared of him, but she was nervous. The energy that surrounded him was irresistible, everything about him so very strong, that she supposed it had to be their connection.

Amidst her reading however she felt the floor of the library creak, she looked up from the journal to find him walk slowly into the library his eyes briefly lingering on her, until he fetched himself a book. She forced her eyes back on the pages watching the grotesque illustrations of vampires that neither he nor his brother fit, for both looked human in their appearance. Sherlock was even wearing well-tailored clothing, though more casual than his brother with a pair of dark trousers and a purple shirt.

Molly heard him sigh and found herself looking up at him expectantly, as he said with his back turned towards her, "You won't find anything here."

She'd been trying to find a book in the library that contained any obscure detail, though those she found were encyclopaedias or botanical or written in Latin, but none were books about vampires, "Oh?" she said as casually as she could muster.

"We don't keep books about our kind – yours is the only book that is worth reading, even though narrow-minded," he said turning around, his eyes remaining on the journal in her hands.

She frowned slightly, though she had to agree, since the pages were frightfully over-dramatic at best and she wondered if it was a joke made her on her dad's part since the drawings of the vampires were disfigured compared to him.

Curiosity came over her though, "How – how come you can be in daylight – without burning up? There's nothing about it in the book," she said feeling like she should apologise for the question when she'd uttered it.

His eyes flitted over to her amused, a book clutched in his hands, "Because I want to," he said cryptically walking out into the doorway, "Goodnight, Molly," he said his voice echoing through the darkened hallway.

She stared after him long after he was gone, listening to his slow steps, as she heard a door opening in the distance. To her surprise she heard the swell of music fill the house – it was a violin – an eerie tune playing filling her with sadness, and she knew it was his. She listened in wonder, briefly wondering why he seemed bent upon proving his lack of humanity to her, for she understood now that his display upon entering the grounds, covered in blood, were purely to point out that fact.

The thought followed her into bed that night, as she lay in her nightgown; her thoughts muddled by a sudden feeling of guilt. She quickly shook off the sensation, slowly drifting off to sleep – her dreams a blend of memories that she knew weren't hers causing her to whimper in her sleep.

Molly suddenly felt a cold finger on her lips stilling her whimpers, making her gasp, as her eyes sprang open. Sleep was still in her eyes, while she blinked furiously trying to speak, though words seemed lost to her when gazing into a pair of blue eyes, the same blue eyes that had seemingly been angered with her presence before, but he was now sitting on her bed. The moon shone from the window upon his pale body that she realised was exposed, as he calmly searched her face.

She didn't know what to think, what to do or what to say, for in all essence she felt calm, but the minute he pried his finger from her lips that sensation washed away, and she sat up in the bed startled, clinging the covers underneath her chin, "Sherlock?" she said quietly.

He did not answer, his face pensive, as he sighed, before he slipped underneath the sheets of her bed, while she gave no protest of any kind wondering what on earth was going on. Sherlock lied beside her silently, his eyes turning to hers, while she swallowed away her shock, but all of that dissolved when his mouth found hers, tipping up her chin for better access. Words that she thought of speaking stuck in her throat, as she felt his cold naked body cover hers.

For every touch all of her worries disappeared, feeling her body heat up at his caress, and was surprised to find heat in his body after all. The minute she sensed him turn warm, his hands clutched her to him pulling her in, and his mouth seared upon hers making her lips feel bruised. She had never once been touched like this – delicately – yet there was slight roughness in his grip, but he seemed to be handling her like she was fragile – like she would disappear in her bed any second.

Was it real? She didn't know, didn't need to know, as his mouth nibbled at her neck, finding the soft spots of her flesh making her mewl underneath him, while his breath turned ragged, and she felt his muscles flex underneath the touch of her hands on his bare back. He slowly slipped her dress above her head, taking his time to feel her body quiver underneath him, and her legs wrapped him closer to her out of pure instinct. Every bit of her that thought it was wrong flew away by every trace of him on her skin, from the way his mouth took in a pink nipple between his teeth, and she felt almost like she was drowning the minute he made her lips easily part.

He tasted like metal, like blood, like fire – a fire that filled her body making her want to cry out his name, as his piercing gaze penetrated her. A soft cry from her brought him to action, as his mouth moved from hers, trailing kisses down her stomach, until he was between her parted legs, his tongue twisting inside her cunt. She gasped at the way he lapped up her juices, grabbing at her hips, pushing her into his mouth, and continued to drink her in. Molly did not know what to do with herself, her nails digging into the bed, as he made her feel like she was bursting at the seams. He brought himself up, his mouth slick with her, letting her taste herself, as he kissed her repeatedly – until her lips were sore.

He brought her closer, spreading her thighs, and she felt him press against her with his cock that twitched by her thigh. She felt delight at having produced such, something so simple in someone else, and looked at it in wonder – until it disappeared inside of her, pressing inside her with such want it made her eyes roll into the back of her head. It hurt, yet it didn't – it felt exquisite, to be filled up, having him rock back inside of her, until she could only make breathy grasps that tried to utter his name. Her walls clenched around him, and she felt him struggle to keep on, to continue, as guilt poured from him. Molly was slowly brought to reality, though her mind vanished, and everything turned blissfully dark, she could only discern a faint red in his eyes in the end.

Molly's eyes blinked open to sunshine, hearing the soft drum of an engine, and she woke up fully realising she was in a car with Mrs Hudson besides her. She sat up suddenly alert, her hand brought to her head, as she realised she was still in her nightie, but dressed in a dark coat that was unfamiliar – though its scent not, "What's – what's going on?" she said with a yawn, seeing that she had a seatbelt on.

"I didn't want to wake you dear," said Mrs Hudson, "You were sleeping so well."

She stared at the woman in surprise, "We're leaving."

"Oh, yes – your things are packed – Mycroft sent word of a flat, a nice place were we can both have our privacy called-,"

"But - but-," said Molly sitting upright in her seat, catching sight of the mansion in the rear window, as they slowly drove past the gate, " – I thought…" she must have been dreaming she supposed, breathing deeply, but she swore she saw a pair of red eyes flash in a window of the first floor before vanishing.

" – Well – it'll be alright, not much to do there, cooped up inside all day. London will be fun," said Mrs Hudson.

"Oh," said Molly feeling sad all of a sudden, like she'd lost something.

"We'll be living at 221 Baker Street," said Mrs Hudson, who did not speak anymore throughout their drive, and Molly was grateful for it, as her thoughts slid towards a man. It wasn't before they'd gotten to Baker Street, and she was given the key to the upstairs flat, ready to take a bath that she saw the dried up blood between her thighs.