Day #16: Vampire
Sebben Crudele
(Rated T)
It didn't take much for Sherlock to convince the silver-haired human to follow him home. The man had been sitting at the bar for over three hours, clearly drowning his sorrows with a pint when the vampire sat down next to him.
"Personal trainer or boss?" He asked, sitting down next to the man.
"Sorry, what?" The human asked in confusion. Sherlock sighed deeply, as if he felt the man was being deliberately stupid.
"Your wife. Did she leave you for her personal trainer, or her boss?" Sherlock repeated.
"Her boss." The silver-haired man looked shocked. "Sorry, how did you know that?"
"I didn't know, I saw." Sherlock said stiffly. The conversation was quickly becoming tedious, and Sherlock hadn't had anything to drink in two weeks, but he ignored the burn, hoping for an easy meal. "Simple, really. You're comfortable here, everyone knows you and they know how you take your drink. It's not as though you come here while you're happy, however. They're used to seeing you sad, they would have shown at least a little concern if you had shown up looking down. You fiddle with your wedding ring quite a bit; unhappy marriage, most likely a cheating wife. Something happened today to cause you to drink more, however. You were doing well mentally after chugging down two pints of beer, but after the third one, you started to get sloppy. So you're used to drinking, but not used to that much in such a short period of time. This is something that is related to what normally causes your marriage problems, but worse. Wife left you. Simple." Sherlock takes a breath of air, looking bored.
"Wow, that was a bit...well, creepy, to be honest." The human said with a shake of his head. "The name is Greg Lestrade, it's nice to meet you."
Sherlock chuckled, taking the human's hand in his own and giving it a quick shake. "Sherlock Holmes. Pleasure."
Sherlock could smell the intrigue in the human's blood, and he knew that playing a long game of cat-and-mouse would bore the both of them. Pushing himself away from the bar, Sherlock gave Lestrade a long, hard look before striding away. It only took two seconds before the human began to follow.
"Can I ask where we're going?" Lestrade asked when he caught up to Sherlock, his breath only slightly elevated from trying to keep up with the taller vampire. Sherlock smirked, glancing at him briefly.
"Not important." Sherlock replied. Lestrade made a noise of annoyance, but made no further protest as they walked along the deserted streets, turning down an alley. It was obvious from looking at the man that he was someone who craved danger. The thought shot a wave of nostalgia through Sherlock, mixed with a strange hint of longing.
Maybe Greg Lestrade wasn't a good idea as a potential slave; after all, Sherlock would have difficulties drinking from the human if he constantly reminded him of his last slave.
The vampire quickly shut his straying thoughts down, focusing on the rich smell of blood that was oh so willingly following him down the tiny alleys. The copper smell mixed nicely with a hint of scotch and pinecones; not an unusual smell, but definitely a break from the mundane. Sherlock sucked in a deep breath before turning on Lestrade, pinning him against the dirty brick wall of the alley.
"What are you-" Lestrade's panicked voice tapered off as he looked up into Sherlock's eyes. His sharp eyes, slightly glassy from the effects of the alcohol, completely unfocused for a few seconds before snapping back into reality. Sherlock smiled gently at him.
"You're safe." The vampire began, his voice deep, calm, and reassuring. "You are always safe with me as long as you serve me well. Your master is thirsty now; be a good slave and offer me a drink."
Lestrade nodded slowly, the glassiness in his eyes having nothing to do with the alcohol now. "Of course, master." He breathed, baring his neck.
Sherlock made a pleased sound before bending low, inhaling the clean scent of copper and pinecones. The smell of scotch was an interesting addition, and completely natural. Lestrade had been drinking beer of course, but the overwhelming smell of alcohol resided primarily in his mouth. The muted scotch smell permeated everything, a welcome kick to blood that would be overly sweet otherwise.
Sherlock licked Lestrade's skin before biting down, making a satisfied noise as blood welled up through the holes to greet him. This one was so plaint, he would make a nice slave.
So immersed in his task, Sherlock failed to notice the figure moving toward him at lightening speeds. Before he had a chance to even suck, Sherlock was knocked away from his slave, landing in a heap on the ground. Letting out a feral snarl, he jumped to his feet, prepared to attack whoever stopped him from feasting.
"You bit him!" The achingly familiar voice said angrily. "Now he's going to turn, you idiot."
Sherlock quickly regained his composure, fixing a mask of cool indifference on his face. "Not if you let me drink. The venom hasn't had a chance to spread yet."
"No." The blond said, glaring daggers at the brunet. The effect of this was ruined by Lestrade flopping against his shoulder, the venom that spread through his veins working as a relaxant.
"Then you could do it." Sherlock suggested next, a humourless smirk forming on his lips.
"I don't drink human blood!" The blond vampire reminded him unnecessarily. As if Sherlock could forget.
"Your third option is to allow him to transform, wasting a perfectly good slave." Sherlock replied.
"Third option it is then." The blond growled, swinging Lestrade over his shoulder. Sherlock watched the blond dart off, Lestrade over his shoulder, his silver hair waving in the wind. He waited until the pair vanished before turning to punch the brick wall next to him, leaving a sizable crack.
"John…I miss you."
A/N: This will be continued as well under the name of the chapter title "Sebben Crudele." I was plotting this out before the challenge...it's not cheating is it?