Disclaimer: I still don't own Sherlock.

A/ N: The next chapter of Malificent is slow coming along, My damn tablet erased most of what I had for the story so instead of posting the next few chapters today like planned I have to go and rewrite. them. Thank you guys for being patient, hopefully it'll be up soon. In the mean time enjoy the next installment of Human Error.

Mari:* sighing* Does anyone even read author's notes any more?

****************Chapter Two********************

It was late in the evening when Sherlock returned to Baker St. By this time John was beside himself with worry and had even called Mycroft, who was also present when the sleuth returned. When he entered the flat, the doctor jumped to his feet.

"Where the hell have you been? What the hell did you mean on the phone? " He yelled and his friend recoiled violently silver and sky eyes wide.

Mycroft frowned at the reaction, reasons for it running through his mind only to be swiftly discarded. Surely the good doctor hadn't been abusing his little brother... right? He glanced at Dr. Watson, noting that he too seemed puzzled by the response. How curious. Obviously if he had been hurting the detective. he would've expected this reaction, however his shock assured him that the man was innocent of such accusations. Therefore he couldn't help but wonder why he had reacted in such a fashion. Suddenly, he realized where he had seen that reaction. A few years ago Anthea's daughter had been brutally beaten and raped while on her way home from school. The girl had displayed much the same reaction Sherlock had when confronted with anger and had killed herself only days after the attack. Dread and fear pooled in his gut and he found himself hoping fervently that he was wrong. Just this once.

"May I speak to you in private, Brother mine? "

The younger Holmes frowned forcing the fear from his features. "No. "

Expecting the response, Mycroft pursed his lips, trying to find a way to get the other to listen to him only for his eyes to catch sight of the beautiful leather choker wrapped around his little brother 's throat. The band of it was an inch thick with a strange crest situated perfectly in the middle.

New, recieved it this morning. Hand made by a woman over the age of fifty. Made only moments before being given to Sherlock. Prized possession.

His gaze moved to his brother's clothes.

Same clothing as yesterday. Washed this morning and mended. Attacked, clothing was ripped. Button on trousers was torn off but sewn back on. Oh Gods, Sherly. Who dared to hurt you that way.

Sherlock met his eyes briefly, then looked away, knowing that his brother had deduced what had happened to him... or part of it. John frowned looking between the two before snorting. Obviously he was being left out of something big.

"What the hell is going on?! "

He snapped and this time Sherlock glared at him. "Nothing! I just stayed at a hotel alright?! Sebastian Wilkes rented a room for me! " He yelled in annoyance, before storming out of the room and into his bedroom., slamming the door behind him. Mycroft sighed and stood.

"Keep an eye on him, John. My brother is not the best at making good decisions when they concern himself. "

This said the man left the flat, leaving John alone wondering what the hell was happening and what Sherlock was hiding from him.

Hands. Cruel, cold, callous hands gripped his hair roughly, their owner smirking down at his battered frame. "Not so clever now are ya? "

The man sneered at him and he glared at him, jerking as his assailant's drunk friends laughed, hands tugging at his clothing. He struggled as hard as he could, fear overiding his logic as he realized exactly what they planned to do to him.

"No! No, don't! " He shrieked kicking one of the men who snarled and stomped down hard on his leg. It snapped easily wrenching a scream of pure agony from the genius. The leader, the man holding his hair shoved a dirty rag into his mouth while another man gripped his wrists tightly. Terrified beyond belief, he didn't even notice that his clothing had been removed until something was forced into him. White hot pain surged through him and he felt as if he was being split in half, body clenching trying to force the intrusion out.

Without even pausing the man inside him began to thrust harshly, obscene grunts and groans leaving his throat. Sherlock screamed and continued to fight, tears streaming down his face as his mind shattered more and more with each thrust. "Shit look at ya. So pretty an' broken. " The leader slurred drunkly palming his own arousal as he watched them. More obscene groans and grunts sounded around him and the detective felt his stomach turn as he realized that they were all getting off one his suffering. All six of these men were enjoying watching him break. He vomited and one of the men laughed, driving the makeshift gag, only to shove himself into the brunette's mouth roughly. Horrified, Sherlock bit down as hard as he could causing to man to cry out and punch him in the face. Jerking himself from his captive's mouth, he glared down at him and Sherlock couldn't help but to smirk before he retreated far into his mind away from the horror that was reality.

A choked gasp left Sherlock's lips as he bolted awake trembling violently with self loathing and emotional agony as he recalled exactly what he had been dreaming about. A month had passed since that horrific night and yet he still wasn't able to put it behind him. During the day it was easy to hide, he made sure not to deviate much from his usual personality saving his breakdowns for when he was alone. Lizzy and Caderyn helped him, of course, being the only ones that knew what had happened and his new siblings helped him adjust to his new species quite well. He and Emma got along the best, however and that is whom he spent most of his time with when he left Baker St. She listened to as he spoke but didn't judge him, instead choosing to chastise him gently whenever he became a bit harsh.

Of course out of the entire coven, he was closest to Caderyn and had even taken to calling the man Father, or in the case really bad nightmares, Papa. The ancient vampire was extremely patient with him , often holding him when everything became too much. He regaled him with tales of time long since past and was the father Sherlock could remember wishing for all those years ago.

Strong familiar arms wrapped around him and he whimpered turning his face into his sire's throat.

"Sh, feed, pup, then we'll talk. " For a moment he wanted to disagree but in the end he did as bid allowing his fangs to sink into the elder male's tender flesh. Blood, rich and warm, flooded his mouth and he suckled on the wound reveling in the feelings of warmth and safety that came through their bond. It made him wonder why he neglected to feed as often as he was supposed to. A quiet sound from his sire drew him back to reality and he pulled away, full and content. Licking the wound closed, he looked up at the one man he now trusted the most.

"Are you alright now, Lockie? " Caderyn rumbled calmly and Sherlock nodded, having given up on dissuading his papas horrible nicknames for him weeks ago. His papa scowled and gently grabbed his face forcing him to meet his eyes.

"Sherlock, I felt your distress all the way at the manor. It was so strong your mother felt it. "

"I refused to let him come without me. " Lizzy added drawing her cub's attention and Sherlock bit his lip. "Sorry. " He rasped and the matronly vampire frowned.

"Don't apologize , love. Come on, talk to us. " She coaxed. The detective sniffled tears filling his eyes as the self-loathing returned with a vengence, dragging hate, anger, and pain with it. "They-they - I wasn't strong enough and they kept taking and taking and taking! They kept shattering my mind and I - I hate them! I hate the fact that I let them take that from me! the one pure thing I had left! " He sobbed forcing himself to keep his voice down lest he wake didn't hide the anguish in his voice however and Lizzy gave a soft sniffle tears streaming down her cheeks as she cupped his face in her strong gentle hands.

"What happened to you was NOT your fault in ANY way! You are an amazing person and for those pathetic bags of pus to have hurt you that way was a cruelty I wouldn't wish upon ANYONE. Do you understand me William Sherlock Scott Holmes DeLaRose.?" She whispered fiercely and he gazed at her brokenly, wanting to believe her words with all his heart. A black tear fell from his silver cyan eyes and she gave him a tiny smile. "Trust me. Trust us. "

"I hate them. " He finally whispered after a moment of silence a second black tear joining the other until they streamed in steady trails down his porclein cheeks. Caderyn gave a quiet growl behind him pulling him closer. "Then end them. " He rumbled and a soft manic giggle left Sherlock giving them a glance at just how broken there beloved fledgling was. "Oh no worries, I will and they will regret the moment they first set their sites on me. One way or another they will PAY. "

Jim Moriarty was concerned.

For the past few weeks he had been watching his beloved playmate and he had noted that there was something very wrong with the other man.

First he had disappeared off the consulting criminals radar for almost 19 when he returned he had even lied to his little pet about having the bully from his past rent him a hotel room refusing to say anymore on the subject.

Secondly, there was the way he'd sometimes leave 221b long after Dr. Watson had gone off to bed ,not returning until a mere half hour before the doctor rose.

Then there were the smaller less noticeable things. The way he recoiled when touched or startled. The way he unoticeably shied away from muscular men and those bigger than his. The worsening of his already eating and sleeping patterns due to nightmares and loss of appetite. Even the way he went about crimes gave away the fact that something was wrong, his eyes lacking the pleased glow and smug arrogance they usually hold after discovering something obvious yet missed by the ordinary simpletons he continued to work with.

Yes something was definately wrong with his detective... and he would find out what.

After all a broken playmate was is no fun and no one is allowed to break Sherlock Holmes... except for him , of course.

TBC...

A/ N: Idk how well this chapter came out. My damn auto correct kept changing stuff. I went back and fixed what I could find but let me know if you find something I missed.

-Claw.