John spent the next few days in silent fear of Moriarty. His only relief was when Sherlock kissed him or hugged him. John knew there was something going on with Moriarty, he just didn't know what.

One particular Friday, John was incredibly anxious. The lingering looks that Moriarty was giving him was starting to really creep him out. He desperately wanted to tell Sherlock that he thought something was wrong, but he was even more afraid that Sherlock would think he was stupid. So he sat in class, anxiously doodling on his notepaper. Finally, the bell rang. He jumped up relieved and so glad for that annoying sound.

"Mister Watson," Moriarty's voice halted him before he could take a step, "I need to speak with you a moment."

John felt panic ran rampant through his mind. He took calming breaths as he walked carefully to Moriarty's desk.

"I'll wait for you, yes?" Sherlock called.

"It's ok," John answered, "I'll catch up."

Sherlock shrugged and darted out of the classroom. John slowly made his way to the desk and stood. He pushed down the panic building inside him and patiently waited for the last of the students to leave. At last, Moriarty turned to face him, a bemused look on his face.

"Oh, John," Moriarty's voice had that amused-but-not-really-amused sound in it, "You're quite a pest, you know. You have caused such a stir in the vampire community. It's amazing, really, how much trouble one simple, insignificant human can cause. Do you realize how insignificant you are, John Watson?"

John swallowed the bit of fear that threatened to make him scream in terror. John tried to force himself to look at the vampire, but his eyes refused to look at Moriarty, as though they were afraid of being caught. Suddenly the vampire's voice was in his ear.

"The only thing about you that makes you worthwhile, John my dear," Moriarty's voice whispered, "Is that delectable blood of yours. I do think I will have myself a drink. You see, your vampire boyfriend is a bit too arrogant for my tastes. He needs to be taken down a notch and you just so happen to be the direct way to his heart. What is it about you that he loves?"

John was shocked by the question and couldn't help but wonder the answer. He realized he didn't know. Moriarty's arms circled around him and he shivered in fear. Moriarty's tongue flicked out and gently slipped along John's neck, causing him to shudder horribly.

"Perhaps it is your blood," Moriarty moaned into John's skin, "I bet he loves it. I bet he laps it up like a dog. Ooo, a dog. That's what I shall compare him to. Because, John my sweet, he is nothing but a dog. He is an animal, John, and you shall see that soon enough."

John was about to open his mouth to defend Sherlock, his Sherlock, when a hand covered it. He struggled against Moriarty, whose grip had suddenly become iron-like. John's eyes squeezed shut, knowing what would happen next. As the teeth slid cleanly into his skin, he felt white-hot pain searing through his body. His strength was gone and he could do nothing but slacken against Moriarty, his mind fuzzing against the pain. His shoulder throbbed horribly and his heart felt as though it was going to explode. And then, it was gone.

The heat left his body. It vanished as quickly as it had come. Suddenly he was on the floor, cold and shivering. He felt a slick wetness at his shoulder and then someone roughly standing him up. He wobbled slightly, gripping the person holding him. He let himself fall into the shoulder of that person for a moment, not caring who it was. His heart beat steadied as he gasped against the shoulder. His vision and hearing cleared enough for him to realize two things. One was that he was gripping Moriarty. Two was that Moriarty was speaking in soft, soothing tones.

"It's ok, Johnny dear," he whispered, "I'll take good care of you. Don't worry. We'll have an agreement, won't we? You give me what I want and you will be taken care of."

"N-n-n-n-n," John attempted to sputter out a rejection.

"Hush now," Moriarty breathed.

John trembled as his mouth snapped shut at the command. His knees weakened and he had to lean more heavily on Moriarty. Moriarty's fingers stroked through his hair as he guided John to a seat. He set John down and began to pull away, but John's fingers refused to unclench themselves from his shirt. Moriarty laughed loudly.

"So clingy already, John?" his voice had a slight edge to it.

John looked up, eyes wide. As he looked into the cold, dark eyes, he only felt one thing: fear. The fear consumed him. He was so afraid that his legs trembled and his heart rate quickened. Moriarty looked down on him with a cold amusement in his eyes. He leaned forward, stopping with his nose almost touching John's.

"You're mine now, my dear," his voice rang out inside John's skull like an echo in a cave.

"No," John mouthed.

"Yes," Moriarty hissed.

John felt his hands shake against Moriarty's shirt.

"Let me go," John whimpered.

"I will," Moriarty smiled cruelly, "For now."

Then he leaned forward and touched his lips to John's. John's vision blurred in shock and then the heat was gone again. Moriarty was gone. John was left gasping for air, his hands clutching at nothing. It seemed like an eternity before his mind cleared enough for him to drop his hands. He finally looked around cautiously to see that Moriarty had left the room entirely. He took a few more moments to catch his breath and calm his wildly beating heart before heading out of the class. He shuffled calmly to his next class and sat next to Sherlock. Sherlock poked his arm and raised an eyebrow at him. He forced a smile and shrugged. I don't even know what to say to him, John thought as the bell rang.

Little note: I don't know how believable Moriarty is to you all, but when I was writing him I was scaring myself. So I hope he is adequate to your villain needs. Please don't stop reviewing! I love your reviews! Even if all you want to say is "Gah. Bad ending." I will be overjoyed. As always, I love you guys!