Sherlock didn't return the next morning. John spent most of his Saturday sitting in their room, staring at Sherlock's bed. Where was the pale vampire with beautiful dark curls and mesmerizing grey-blue eyes? John closed his eyes and saw the cheekbones that could cut glass. Pale skin filled in forming a nose and pale pink lips. Those pale lips stayed in his mind for what seemed like an eternity.

"Where did you go?" John whispered, "And why do I care?"

John's thoughts were muddled in an awful way. He'd known this vampire for barely two days. So why did his lips seem to haunt him? And why did he care that he'd disappeared? John supposed it was some sort of vampire magic or something. He sighed and crawled under his covers, though he wasn't tired. He just lay there staring at Sherlock's half of the room. What was that mysterious boy doing?

John suddenly bolted up and fell ungracefully out of his bed. He landed face down on the floor with his feet still on the bed. He groaned, I'm hopeless he thought, struggling to untangle himself from his sheets. He finally just gave up, sliding the rest of the way onto the floor. He lay there, thoughtless. These were the blissful moments when he didn't have to think about hurt, violence, rape, or vampires. These were the wonderful moments when he only thought of blackness. There was nothing and it was beautiful.

"What are you doing on the floor?" came a wonderful baritone voice.

John refused to turn around to look at his roommate. He blushed profusely but didn't move a muscle. He just lay there. He tried to force thoughts of embarrassment away. He wanted his peaceful thoughtless time, but it was too late. He sighed heavily and started untangling himself.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock took a cautious step forward.

"I'm fine," John said, tiredly, "I just fell out of bed."

"Oh," Sherlock crouched to help John untangle himself.

John forced himself not to flinch and together they managed to remove the sheets from his legs (though the sheets resisted greatly). Sherlock threw the sheets back up on John's bed and turned to face the blue-eyed boy. Said blue eyes were now locked on his. Sherlock suddenly flushed with heat. This heat filled his whole body, filled him until he couldn't breathe and it kept filling him. He gasped and scrambled backwards, leaving John to look at him with a confused face.

The heat left him suddenly. Left him cold and confused. He stared in wonder at the shortish boy with blonde hair, who blushed at his intense gaze. He quickly ran through all he knew about his species. Unfortunately, he knew very little as he had never cared to learn about the disgusting thing he was. There he sat with no clue what was happening. Me, Sherlock Holmes! He shouted in his mind, I am clueless? How is this possible? I always know what is going on!

Peeved and out right frustrated at his not knowing something, he quickly scanned John, trying to deduce him. He was still wearing his school uniform, meaning he'd not taken it off when Sherlock left and he hadn't had a shower. He also slept in it, so obviously he was perturbed about something. Considering the time frame, it was probably Sherlock's sudden leave.

"You were curious where I went," Sherlock stated (trying to not blurt), "You were worried, but you didn't know what to do or who to talk to. So you just sat in here."

"Uh, y-yes," John gaped at him, "How did you know that?"

"I deduced you," Sherlock shrugged.

"Amazing," John said (and meant it), "What else do you know about me?"

John had his legs out in front of him and was leaning forward on his hands. He rather looked childish, Sherlock thought, but in a cute way. Sherlock shook away that thought and looked at John's eager face. He didn't have the heart to say anything bad about him, so he tried for the good.
"You want to be a doctor," Sherlock said, "Probably a military doctor, since your father was in the military. You like things to be neat and clean. You like things the same, but you enjoy a bit of danger now and then."

John just gaped at him, and then burst into a huge grin. He leaned forward even more, just grinning at Sherlock. Sherlock watched the boy closely, unsure of what to make of his eager body language.

"That is so cool," John's eyes sparkled as he said it.

"That's not what people usually say," Sherlock cocked his head at him.

"Oh?" John's smile faded in curiosity, "What do they usually say?"

"Piss off," Sherlock said briskly, as though he didn't care.

"Huh," John leaned back a bit, though his hands were still between his legs, "Well, I think it's amazing. You're brilliant."

"Most people just call me a freak," Sherlock looked away from John's curious eyes.

"Well, you're not," John insisted, "You're the only person to show me any bit of kindness in a long time."

Sherlock looked at John sharply, his eyes flashing in anger. John shrank back from him.

"I'm not a person," Sherlock growled at him, "I am a vampire and don't forget it!"

John's knees flew up to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. He buried his face in his knees and tried to shut out everything. Why was I so stupid? I let my guard down and now Sherlock was angry and surely he would…John shuddered not wanting to finish that last thought.

"S-sorry," came John's muffled, shaky voice.

"No," Sherlock moved toward John, "No, no. I'm sorry. I just get frustrated sometimes. I don't want you to be scared. I want you to…"

Sherlock stopped. What do I want? He thought. He'd mostly spent the few days he knew John trying to protect him and keep him from being scared. But why? What did he really want from this blonde boy? His blood, whispered the darkness inside his brain. Sherlock blinked hard. Is that really all I want? I am a monster….no, no. I don't want his blood. I just don't want him to be scared. He shook his head violently and looked back at the ball that was John Watson.

"Listen," Sherlock cleared his throat, "I don't want you to be scared, because I don't want anything from you. I just want to go through school like I said. Please calm down. You will have an attack if you don't."

For some unknown reason Sherlock's voice seemed to calm John down. That soothing way the baritone sound flowed into his ears seemed to slow his heart rate and stop his shaking. He managed to calm down and peek over his knees at Sherlock. Sherlock was on all fours leaning toward John with a worried look on his face. Oh, that is a nice view of him, John thought before he could stop himself. He blushed horribly and buried his head in his knees again.

"Are you ok?" Sherlock asked, gingerly.

"Yes," John's voice was muffled, but steady.

There was silence as Sherlock watched John closely and John tried to force himself to quit blushing. Finally, John calmed himself and unraveled slightly, allowing his knees to fall out to the side a bit. Sherlock just watched him, still in the same position. He kinda looks like a dog; John couldn't help but giggle at that. Then he couldn't stop the giggles. They just kept coming, like a current that had been held back for years. And indeed, John had not giggled in many, many years.

"What?" Sherlock looked at the boy in total confusion, "Why are you laughing?"

"S-sorry!" John sputtered with laughter, "It's just I-I th-thought you looked like a d-dog and I j-just thought that was s-silly!"

Sherlock blushed profusely and fell back onto his butt. He'd never been very embarrassed before and wasn't quite sure why he was now. He watched John's fit of laughter and decided he rather liked John's laughing face, especially in comparison to his usual depressed face. He wondered if he actually looked that much like a dog or if John was just loopy. I don't really care, he realized, I just like to see him laughing.