15 February 2014
The next morning, Molly is phoned from Bart's.
"They're re-opening for a skeleton staff only," she explains curtly to Sherlock and John, still irritated over the events of last night. "I'm to be one of the few to continue work for now, since they think they're going to have quite a lot of dead bodies coming in."
She leaves without another word, and Sherlock and John attempt to busy themselves with finding a relatively quiet case for now.
Around lunch, however, Molly rings them from the hospital. She has something to show them.
"He was found last night. Two blocks from our flat." Molly wonders briefly when she'd started thinking of 221B as home, then shakes her head and continues. "He's been drained, as you can probably see for yourself."
The man is young, mid-twenties, and slightly heavy around the middle. Molly's report shows that his Breath Alcohol Content, if he'd still been alive, is twice the legal limit.
"He was careless for just one minute, and it killed him," Molly says pointedly, looking at John.
Sherlock and John sigh. "Look, we understand, Molly, but we're not in any danger anymore. Really. We're not," John says gently.
The scowl on Molly's face is surprisingly ferocious. "Not now, you aren't. But what about last night? I hadn't planned on coming back home, and Sherlock clearly isn't as observant as he likes to think he is."
"I object to that," Sherlock says plaintively.
"You shut up," Molly says fiercely. Sherlock is surprised enough to do so. "I haven't forgiven you for allowing this to happen on your watch."
"John is fine," Sherlock insists. "And honestly, Mr.…" he leans over to read the name on Molly's clipboard, "Mr. David was simply irresponsible. It's a coincidence."
Molly's eyes widen. "It happened two blocks from 221B. Last night. How is that a coincidence?"
"Probably a dozen people in the city are being attacked every night, these days," Sherlock says dismissively. "It's simply a matter of chance as to the location of the—"
"We'll keep the windows locked from now on," John interrupts. "Okay?" he asks Molly.
Sherlock rolls his eyes. Molly looks as if she wants to pur, but keeps her mouth closed.
They decide to head back upstairs.
"Caught another one, I see," Sherlock remarks when they run into Lestrade on the way up from the mortuary.
"Sherlock! Mycroft said you'd be here. Yeah, we found another around your place, actually. Near the Baker Street Tube station—" he breaks off, noticing Molly. "Er, I mean…"
Molly looks at the others curiously. "Hi, Greg," she says after an awkward moment.
He nods. "Molly. Er, would you…" he trails off again.
Sherlock looks at Molly. "She's okay," he assures Lestrade after a second.
"Are you sure?" The DI says hesitantly.
Molly looks around, confused. "What's going on? What did you catch?"
Lestrade shakes his head minutely. Molly catches his meaning after a moment and nods. She runs upstairs to notify her boss that she's taking her lunch break outside of the hospital.
The group follows the DI to an unmarked car waiting outside, courtesy of Mycroft. John finally recognizes the situation for what it is.
"Why are you working with Mycroft?" he asks Lestrade once they're all in the vehicle and the door is closed.
"He came to me," Lestrade explains. "He got wind of the last one we caught somehow—"
"Surprise," Sherlock mutters.
"—but it died the next day, like you said, anyway. This newest one was found by his people, actually. It was already dead before the sun came up. They got the body out before sunrise."
Sherlock frowns. "Why come to you? You didn't do much of a good job on the last one, as I recall."
Lestrade glares. "You said yourself that we couldn't do anything about the last one."
Molly finally speaks up. "Are you talking about vampires?"
John fills her in quietly while Sherlock and Lestrade argue. The driver looks like he regrets ever signing on to work for Mycroft.
"Mycroft. Might I ask for what reason you've chosen to dirty your hands with the likes of us?" Sherlock sneers once the group reaches the bottom of the stairs in the nondescript concrete building, where his brother is waiting.
"Dead vampires on the streets of London, brother mine," Mycroft answers smoothly.
Sherlock doesn't let it go at that. "And why does that concern you?" he demands.
His brother rolls his eyes exasperatedly. "Because, Sherlock, vampires are supposed to be the most dangerous things on the streets. The fact that there is something out there killing them is a most disturbing thought."
"Clearly it was another vampire, Mycroft. Surely you can deduce that yourself," Sherlock says dismissively. "Why is this so important that it warrants both my attention and yours?"
Mycroft glances at the other members of the group. "Why don't you all go in and take a look at the body? I'm sure it'll be very interesting for you, Miss Hooper."
Lestrade, Molly, and John exchange looks. "I think I'll stay here," John begins, but Mycroft cuts him off with a swing of his umbrella. "You too, John."
John looks at Sherlock, who nods slightly. He follows the others into the room that holds the dead vampire.
The door shuts behind the little group. Mycroft taps his umbrella on the linoleum a couple of times before he speaks.
"I don't know what kind of game you're playing, Sherlock, but I can assure you that it won't end well."
"Okay, Greg, what is this all about?" John demands once the door closes.
Lestrade shrugs. "With those two?" He gestures at the door. "Who can ever know? You should probably take a look at the body. You two are actually the first medical professionals to look at it, unless there was a doctor in Mycroft's retrieval team that I didn't know about."
Molly's already at the table holding the corpse. She pulls on a pair of gloves and buttons up the lab coat that she's still wearing, from Bart's.
John moves over to the table as well and picks up a set of gloves. Lestrade hangs back.
They start examining the body. Molly finds a clipboard and some blank paper, but no forms. She takes notes while John lifts various limbs and feels several different areas on the skin.
"This is the first vamp I've seen," Molly remarks generally. "He looks pretty normal, actually. Can you see any fangs?" The last is to John, who moves to the head.
He opens the jaw carefully. The teeth appear normal at first but when John peers closer, the canines seem to be shaped slightly differently, allowing for a hollow center. "Retracted," he says, before closing the mouth.
"How'd he die?" Lestrade asks from near the door.
"Broken neck," John says after a moment. "Very clean."
Lestrade moves closer, morbidly curious. "No chance it could've been an accident?"
John shakes his head. "Vampire bones are a lot stronger than ours. Besides, I've heard that they're very in control of their bodies. I doubt they make very many mistakes, physically at least."
"So it's what Sherlock said. He was killed by another vampire?" Molly asks.
Lestrade frowns. "Why would a vampire kill a vampire?"
"Why would a human kill a human?" John answers, still inspecting the body.
The DI's brow folds, as if he's never thought of this before. "Yeah, but it's a bit different, isn't it?"
John frowns back. "In what way?"
"Well, they're… they're vampires," Lestrade answers, holding his hands out.
"Vampires aren't all the same," John says disapprovingly.
"How do you mean?"
John shrugs. "I think it's like racial hate, really. You can't condemn vampires in general for the actions of a few. It's like all the shit about terrorism and Arabs. They aren't really connected. Same with vampires."
"They killed your sister's wife!" Lestrade says, incredulous.
The doctor crosses his arms. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. A vampire killed Clara. Not the entire vampire race."
Lestrade shakes his head. "They're all wrong, in my opinion. Completely and utterly unnatural and wrong and the more of them we hunt down, the better."
John loses it. "Hunt down? Hunt down? You haven't really caught a single one, not one that wasn't dead or dying! I'll bet that's why you're so angry about all this; it's making the Met look even worse than Sherlock ever did!"
"If you two are quite done?" Molly says loudly before Lestrade can answer. "Report's pretty much complete. D'you think those two are finished yet?" she gestures at the door.
Lestrade and John glare at each other, ignoring Molly.
"Fine," she huffs. "Look, you two, it's political opinion. Honestly, is this issue ever going to be important in life? I mean, we don't really have a lot of contact with vampires outside of attacks, so clearly if there are others they're are kind of, I dunno, shy? Anyway, where are you going to meet a vampire where you get the chance to ask them if they're friendly or not? Unless that's what you were trying to do last night," she says sharply, to John.
"What happened last night?" Lestrade asks.
Molly tells him.
"Jesus, John!" Lestrade exclaims when she's finished. "And you defend them?"
"I'm not defending the violent ones," John says heatedly.
Before the argument can pick up again, however, Mycroft and Sherlock enter the room.
"What did you find?" Sherlock asks.
Molly hands him the clipboard. "Broken neck, hairline fracture at the back of the skull, minor bruising on the collarbone, and he's a bit scraped up at the knees," she summarizes. "I didn't know they could be hurt like that," she remarks.
"They can be hurt in basically the same ways as you or I," John explains. "The stake-through-the-heart thing is inaccurate. Well, I suppose a stake could kill them, too, but it'd kill us as well."
"Stronger structures, though, John, don't forget," Sherlock reminds him. "And quick healing."
"Yeah, but mostly the normal stuff will work if you're trying to kill them," John finishes.
"Actually, guns are probably a bit unreliable. I don't know what would happen if you shot a vampire in the torso area, heart included. Depends on if the bullet stayed in the body or not. The vampire body could probably heal a bullet wound if it went all the way through, although if it were still lodged inside the healing process probably wouldn't work," Sherlock says critically.
Lestrade crosses his arms. "Better just shoot them in the head, then, that what you're saying?"
John frowns. Sherlock sighs. "Yes, a bullet through the brain is always effective, I'm sure."
"I'm going to turn the cadaver over to my scientists, if you've finished," Mycroft says.
Molly and John look at the body. "It would be really fascinating to work on it," Molly says wistfully.
Mycroft looks at her slowly. "I think I could arrange for you to be on the team," he says after a minute.
"Really? Oh my…" Molly says, looking at the body. "Yes, please."
Mycroft nods. He turns back to the door and holds it open, making it clear that the group should leave now.
They file through the doorway and out into the hall. Mycroft stays behind and watches John's and Sherlock's retreating backs, the last out of the room before him. He shakes his head and pulls out his phone to dial Anthea.