John slowly woke up. He refused to open his eyes. Instead, he just laid there listening. He heard the softest tap tap tap. The tapping was regular, like the way a person taps their foot when they're impatient. John assumed this was his roommate's impatient foot. John kept his eyes closed, almost afraid of what may happen if he opened them.

"Quit pretending!" Sherlock shouted, "We have classes to go to! Get up!"

John jumped at the shout and leapt out of bed. He stood still for a few seconds, before realizing his eyes were still closed. He slowly pried them open. His eyelids seemed to be putting up a fight. Finally, he was squinting at his roommate, who raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock's baritone voice floated into John's ears.

"I-I'm up n-n-now," John allowed his eyelids to relax.

"Ok?" Sherlock sighed, "Don't you think you should get dressed now?"

"O-oh, y-yeah," john stuttered as he stumbled over to his closet.

He quickly pulled out his uniform and hurried to the bathroom. He dressed swiftly and brushed his teeth. He didn't know what was going to happen next. He supposed that Sherlock would tell him once he was dressed. He left the bathroom and sat on his bed, putting on his shoes. Then he straightened and folded his hands in his lap. Then he waited for what seemed like an eternity.

"What are you doing?" Sherlock questioned again.

"Waiting for you to give me another order," John whispered, confused.

"I thought I already told you I wasn't going to do that?" Sherlock was practically shouting now, "I just want to go through school the same as you do, John Watson. I don't want to order you around. I don't want your blood or your ass. I want to go to classes, do experiments and continue on with my life! Will you quit with the soldier routine already?!"

"S-s-sorry," John shrank smaller and smaller as Sherlock stared him down.

"No, don't be sorry," Sherlock softened slightly, and knelt beside the smaller boy, "I'm sorry. I realize you have been through a great deal and I am being very callous. Please, I don't want you to be afraid of me."

Sherlock reached his hand forward, in an attempt to mimic a sentimental he had seen many times before. John tensed as the pale hand glided toward him. Sherlock rested his hand on John's folded ones (he was sure this was how it was done). John flinched as the cold skin touched his and his eyes squeezed shut. His head leaned back of its own accord and he stilled completely. There was a pause and then quite suddenly Sherlock leapt away.

"Fine! Fine!" his voice shook with rage, "I tried, but clearly you only see me as a monster! Fine!"

After the final "Fine!" he stormed away, leaving John more confused than ever. John pulled his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. He buried his face in his knees. Without realizing it, john had started crying. His shoulders shook as he silently cried into his knees.

"I don't understand," he sobbed, "I th-thought…I just d-d-don't know what to do!"

John knew that all the vampires he'd encountered before had attacked him. Usually it was quick and they left him bleeding in an alley somewhere. Some of them dragged it out longer, over several weeks. He didn't understand what his roommate was doing. Was this some sort of mind game? He sobbed harder into his knees, with thoughts and memories racing around his brain.

John felt sharp pains all over his body, as he relived all the times he'd been attacked. Claw-like fingernails dug into his skin as sharp fangs dug deep into his neck and shoulders. He screamed, but a hand was over his mouth. He struggled against strong hands and arms. He felt fingers ripping off his pants and digging into him. Tears streamed thickly down his face and he tried to shout again.

Again, every vampire he ever encountered crossed his mind, fangs bared with eyes filled with hunger and lust. Beautiful eyes and mouths and hair flashed in his mind. Finally, his mind seemed to stop on dark curls and beautiful blue eyes. His roommate stared down on him in shock and worry. John's eyes fluttered closed and he lost consciousness once again.

As John regained consciousness he felt a cold hand on his left forearm. The sheets seemed familiar. The nurse's office? Oh, he thought, I passed out again. He sighed and started to open his eyes. He felt a gust of wind and his eyes snapped open. He looked around to find no one there.

"H-h-hello?" John's voice cracked.

"Hey, John, dearie," came the nurse's cheery voice, "I'm a bit busy. You can go on back to your room."

John slowly slid off the bed. He went around the curtain yet again. The nurse was scribbling away on a paper. John didn't know what it was, but he suspected it might be about him. The nurse lifted up concerned eyes.

"Dearie, you really should try to say something," the nurse gave him a sad smile, "I know it's hard, sweetie, but at least try to tell your roommate. He seems very concerned about you. Now, go on back to class. You'll have no classes today, but starting Monday you will."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," john said sheepishly.

The nurse smiled once again and waved John to the door. She then returned to scribbling on her paper. John shuffled out the door, wondering what she had meant about his roommate being concerned. He shuffled all the way to 221B, his head bowed. He opened the door and peered inside. No Sherlock in sight. He shuffled in, closing the door and sat on his bed.

He had felt his roommate's hand. He was sure of it and he was sure he had felt that gust of wind. His mind started whirling.

Why did the vamp-Sherlock run off? Is he mad at me? Does he hate me because of my blood? Why was he even there in the first place? Where is he now?

"You're doing it again," Sherlock's baritone voice rang out.

John gave a strangled yelp and fell off his bed. He'd been so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't even heard Sherlock come in. john scrambled back up.

"D-doing what again?" John asked, uneasily.

"Thinking too loud," Sherlock frowned at the blonde and sat at his desk, "Are you ok?"

"Y-yes," John blushed, he wasn't sure why he was embarrassed, but he was.

"Good," Sherlock touched the tips of his finger together, under his chin, "I seem to be causing you quite a bit of trouble, John Watson."

John bowed his head and kept his mouth closed.

"Will you tell me what happened to you?" Sherlock's deep blue eyes pierced through him.

"Yes."