"": dreams.

Italics: thinking.

Bold: Letters and notes.

-/-: time lapse.

Chapter 4- The first of many letters.

Sherlock knew instantly that this crime scene was different as soon as he stepped out of the taxi. All commotion stopped and looked at him, worried and confused looks passed over everyone's faces. Sherlock however took no notice and continued to walk through the to the crime scene. He wasn't greeted by his usual 'freak' as Donovan looked up at him from the folder that she held. Instead she simply took a piece of paper out of it and held it out to him, a sad look passing her face. He took the paper from her but didn't make any move to look at it, simply put it behind his back and clasped his hands, walking over the new body. It was a playground this time, the body was found tied to one of the swing sets, from a distance it looked as if the man was just sitting there. But up close one could see the blood that stained his shirt collar, and the puncture wounds that adorned his neck. Even Anderson stepped back without Sherlock telling him to in another one of his low-grading insults. However this time he needed Anderson, although he would never admit it, he needed him.

"Anderson" he stated in a low voice. "Tell me, what have you found?" he asked, turning towards him. Now, normally Anderson would scoff at such a request, but this time he simply turned towards the body and started his explanation.

"Tom Sutton, 26, found at 8:30 this morning by an elderly couple who brought their grandchildren here to play. He has been strapped to the swing with rope, and has the same wounds as the first victim has" He handed his notes over to Sherlock, something he had never done before and would probably never do again. Sherlock took them from him and looked over them, nodding. Sighing softly as he saw Anderson had written Vampire and then a question mark at the bottom of the page. He looked around the playground. Tyring to see what the others could not. All his theories had vanished, just like at the first crime scene. He looked at Anderson's notes again, his eyes drifting to the word at the bottom of the page.

Vampires cannot be real. There is no scientific way they can be real. If they were I would know. Wouldn't I? That question struck a cord with him. Would he know if vampires existed or not if he didn't believe they did? This thought made him remember the note that Donovan had given him. He placed it into the notes he already had in his hands and opened it, reading it slowly.

Sherlock,

I'm sure by now you're wondering how these crime scenes can be. How is it possible for such a crime to exist when the only thing possible for it to be, cannot actually exists? Sherlock I thought you were smarter than this and would have figure it out by now. Of course we exist, and we will only become stronger. However there is a way that you can stop these killings. Contact JM. He will tell you what to do. Oh and Sherlock to give you some extra motive. We shall begin killing every five days, and each time we kill the ages will become smaller, and just think, your latest victim is what, 26? So I suggest you contact JM straight away. We will keep our promise so don't let us down.

He felt his stomach churn. Killing someone every five days and the age would only get smaller? Even he could not let that happen. But how could he contact JM? He felt eyes on him, and turned to see both John and Lestrade watching him. He stuffed the letter into his coat pocket, Lestrade not seeming to care as someone had already told him what it had said. He nodded to John asking him to begin examining the new body. He did straight away. While doing this Sherlock walked around the playground looking for something the others could have missed. Again he felt eyes on him, this time however when he turned he saw no one staring at him. He turned around again and scanned the surrounding streets. Where could that gaze be coming from? He asked himself

"Sherlock, come see this" He heard John call over to him. He turned and walked quickly to John, he knew he would find something, he always did.

"What did you find?" John moved the man's hair back to produce the two puncture wounds. He ran his finger along what seemed like the jagged edge of the bite.

"See this edge, its jagged. Like something was ripped out suddenly. Maybe the killer got frightened, or was found before he could finish?" Sherlock took a closer look and nodded, it wasn't much. But it was more than they had to start with. Handing Anderson's notes back to him he nodded his thanks. He stalked off across the playground over to Donovan and nodded to her. Both seemed shocked at the gesture but both returned it.

"John, I believe we have some research to do" he said simply not bothering to turn back, knowing John would follow. And he did.

-1 hour later-

Sherlock and John both sat in the living room of 221b, vampire books in hand. John had teased Sherlock for wanting to read them but soon quietened down when he started reading. They both read book after book. Writing detailed accounts on what they saw at the crime scene and what the book said. Unfortunately they matched. In normal situation this would be a great thing to find. But not when of the men sitting in the living room refused to believe such a creature existed.

"Sherlock this is incredible, these books depict our crime scene down to the very last detail, how can this be?" John mused.

"Imagination, crime research, making it all up. You know the usual science fiction story writing" Sherlock replied almost too immediate. Sherlock placed his book down and picked the note up once more.

"Who is JM Sherlock and why do you have to contact him?"

"No one and because more people will die if I don't"

"Do you know him?" John asked again

"I would like to think I don't, but I'm afraid I do" Sherlock replied almost whiney

"What are you going to do?"

"Contact him of course! Don't be silly John, this could be our murderer, why would I miss a chance like this" Sherlock said jumping out of his chair and heading towards his room. Closing his door behind him, he waited and listened, soon hearing the usual taps of John's keyboard. He stripped out of his coat, hanging it as always on the back of his door, and walked to the mirror. He pulled down his turtle neck to inspect the bite marks. Still there. Both were redder then before, and still as painful. Placing the clothing back over them, he went and sat on his bed. Think Sherlock think! How can you contact JM? The only time I see him is when I am asleep? He looked outside of his bedroom window to find the sun had barely reached the middle of the sky yet. It would too risky to just take a nap in the middle of the day, but what can I do? He was pulled out of his thoughts when his phone sounded in his coat pocket. He stood and retrieved it. Unknown sender. Opening the mail he stared at it, puzzled.

Sherlock,

I know you want to meet me. I'll be around in the next couple of days so wait for me my precious snack. Be a good boy and I might even answer some question for you. Till then.

JM.

He thought about deleting it, but chose otherwise when he remember that this is the only contact he could have with JM. He placed his phone into his jean pants and walked out his door and into the living room once more. Only to find it empty. He stopped and listened, he heard John's voice downstairs. He must be talking to Mrs Hudson. Walking over to his chair he sat. Sat and thought. JM or Moriarty as he should start calling him, was going to come around if he was a "good boy". He would have to make sure he was here whenever he decided to make an appearance. He didn't want John or anyone else to walk in on him and throw him out or worse call the police. He needed answers and if Moriarty was the only way he was going to get them, well he was going to get them no matter what it took. He pushed himself up and crossed his legs underneath him on the chair, deciding to go into his mind palace to investigate his own mind for answers.

This is how John found him moments later. Legs crossed sitting in his chair, eyes closed. He came up here to ask a question but it could wait. Sherlock never responded once he had entered his mind palace. John sat in his own chair again and pulled his laptop onto his knees. This time however he didn't go onto his blog but to a word document instead. One in which he been writing in for a while. People had like John's blog so much that he decided to try his hand at writings stories. So far he had finished one chapter, and was currently working on the second. He felt so proud to see his words upon the screen and knowing that it was all from his imagination and the world around him. That is how the two flatmates stayed that night. One in his mind palace and one writing his story. Both trying to prepare for what was going to happen over the next couple of days.

Hey everyone! Thank you to everyone who has read, followed, favourited and reviewed my story. It is thanks to you that these chapters even happen, without your support I would be left with no motivation to write so thank you! I just want to tell you that I have recently uploaded a new story it's called: Veela's, Vampires and Werewolves, Oh My! So I hope you can go check it out and tell me what you think. And don't worry I won't forget about this one, I'll make sure to do regular updates on both, again thank you to all of you who have read this story, I hope you like this chapter! I would like to dedicate this chapter to twisted gentleman, who is going through a rough time right now, this is for you my loyal friend so I hope you like this!

Soul J