Author's Apology: Sorry, it's short. I needed to end this, though. It's not really interesting me anymore. I've other plans. Hope you guys like it, though.

The Secret of the Holmes

The Murderous Three

This time, Sherlock woke first, still tangled around John, though John somehow got to facing Sherlock's chest, letting his long even breaths fall over the pale and naked skin. Sherlock smiled, dropping a kiss to John's head and wondering how he was going to move from this position without rousing John at the moment.

Of course, John will have to rise at some point, but not exactly right now. Sherlock needed to get ready, and so did John. Just because something's different now and John knows doesn't mean they don't have classes to worry about.

Luckily, Sherlock didn't have to worry about that, because John stirred, yawning and rubbing at his still tired eyes, then looking up at Sherlock, half of the dark denim blue still not showing from his eyes, but he gave a lopsided smile that Sherlock just adored. And he wouldn't have known he adored it unless last night had happened.

Sherlock internally chuckled at that thought, Last night… Tell me you're straight again and I'll just have to prove you wrong.. again… Hopefully John didn't hear that. Sometimes vampyres send thoughts to others, telepathy it's obviously called, without realizing it, and Sherlock really didn't want that. But John didn't hear a thing, only his own internal turmoil about him claiming he was straight, and he really thought he was.

John had never looked at another man the way he looked at Sherlock, and he definitely liked women, but somehow, Sherlock changed that. "How did you do that?" the blond asked suddenly, his sandy brow crinkling in the effort of searching for an answer and he looked to Sherlock expectantly.

"Elaborate, John, I can't read your mind." Which was true enough, he couldn't unless John gave him thoughts to read. As in, giving him thoughts, as vampyres do to each other. But otherwise, he couldn't read anyone's mind. Only the very few of his kind could, and even then it was usually some type of magic they're using to do it with.

"Well," John looked down to his fidgeting hands, "I don't even like men, and you waltz in here and change that in three fucking days. How?" he asked again.

Here it comes, the explanation Sherlock was hoping he would have to avoid, and the one John probably won't understand. But, "Well, being attracted to a vampyre is a little different from humans," he chuckled. John gave him a confused raised brow and Sherlock sighed, "Let's just say it's more enhanced.. I guess." His own brow furrowed in the confusion of having to explain this.

"If you're even remotely attracted to one, the more time you spend with them, the more helplessly crushed you are. It happens with vampyres, too don't worry. I tried, I really did, not to be attracted to you, but nature said no. God, I hate it, but I don't hate you," he assured and John slanted his mouth in thought, his brows coming together as well.

"So what? Like magic? Wait- did you-? Oh, don't tell me-"

"Really, John, if I wanted you to be interested in me, I could have done something a little better than that, honestly. It's natural to us, it's the way things work. You can't just have a secret crush on a friend in our society, it's either they don't know you and you secretly like them, nothing more, or you're helplessly head over heels," Sherlock explained and John lightened up a little, but was still mildly confused.

"Then why exactly have you chosen to be 'head over heels' for me? A human?" he asked and Sherlock shrugged.

"I don't know, you just… You're different," and John scoffed.

"Different. That's everyone's excuse," he mumbled in irritation.

"It's yours, too isn't it? Your excuse, I mean. It's because I'm not the same as everyone else. It is an excuse, but a damn good one," and John smirked as Sherlock rolled his eyes at how intelligent some can be, then they pull shit like that and it just makes them look extremely dumb.

"You're not just different, though, Sherlock," he defended. "I don't know if it's the fact that you're not human or something, but you definitely know how to be separated from everyone else. You are not just different, you're completely something else," and Sherlock dipped his head into John's neck, hiding the pink that was threatening to grow across his cheeks. So his human was intelligent, and so much of a romantic one would puke, but Sherlock found it cute.

"It's not the fact that I'm a vampyre, John," he mumbled into John's skin, making John flush at the feeling. "I was like this before I was turned. Making deductions, separating myself from the crowd to do something exciting. My family and I were always considered strange."

"'Were'?"

"Well, it doesn't help that most of them are dead," Sherlock complained a bit and John's eyes widened at that, and how easily he just.. said it. John wanted to question, but then again, he didn't. his eyes said it all, though and Sherlock sighed. "You want me to explain? I could, without hesitation," he asked and John frowned.

"If you really want to indulge me, though if you can't, I understand," he nodded and Sherlock shrugged.

"Those sentiments have been long gone since that day, I hope you know," and John gave him a sympathetic look. "No, no sympathy, stop that," his arms tightened around John's hips and John smirked. You're something else alright…

"Anyway, we were young, younger than now, obviously. Sherrinford and Mycroft were around seventeen and eighteen, making me about eleven," and John gawked at that, but kept his mouth shut. "We were out wandering, the whole family. We had just moved and no one knew where we were, not even our parents.

"So, we stopped to ask directions from one of these strangers, stupid on their part, I must say, and obviously, the stranger wasn't exactly in a talking mood. It was dark out, and we needed to get home, as my father complained and the man just grinned, showing us he had fangs.

"I was completely in shock as well as anyone else would have been, and he turned against my father, as two others had come from the shadows of the alleyway," and John hated hearing how descriptive Sherlock could be with something like this, especially when he got to how his family died before his eyes. Describing how, "The blood was gushing, dripping to the darkening sidewalk and all over the three.

"Watching the light die from my mother's eyes was what changed our feelings about the world, Mycroft and I. Sherrinford was just completely gone, one of them disappearing as well and we still have no idea what happened to him. My father was ripped to pieces, almost literally as the woman who seemed to be partnered with the man we spoke to was ruthless.

"Clearly, the two left had changed Mycroft and I, yes Mycroft is one, too. And if I ever meet them again… Let's just say there won't be a body left to find," his eyes lighting up with the thought of tearing them apart as they had done to his family.

"I'm sorry," John automatically apologized.

"For what? You weren't there, you couldn't have done anything. You didn't even know me," Sherlock frowned and looked to John, his eyes confused and annoyed as John's just looked up at him in pity. "Please stop doing that, it's annoying. I don't need sympathy and I don't need pity, just stop."

"But-"

Sherlock cut him off with a deep kiss, tongues free as Sherlock tasted his lover endlessly, No. I have you, I'm fine. Completely okay, don't worry about it… John gasped as they separated. "What was that?" he asked frantically.

Sherlock smirked, kissing John's parted lips quickly before he said, "Oh, there's so much more you need to learn from us, John. So much more…"