Sherlock Holmes: The Adventure Of The Crimson Lady

by Ravenclaw Midnight Blue

Not long after his return from the Great Hiatus, Holmes experiences one of his most baffling and dangerous cases, with Watson. And for Watson, the stakes are… personal. Featuring TV's 'The Baker Street Boys', plus some more familiar Arthur Conan Doyle characters. Please read & review!

9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine:

The Battle of Watson's Yard

From Dr Watson's diary:

Date of writing, Sunday 29 April 1894.

During the first week that Mary was residing with the Harkers, I tried to visit her each evening – sometimes with Mrs Hudson. By the end of that week, I was developing a cordial relationship of sorts with the Harkers, as I played at card games with them. On the occasions when Mary and Mrs Hudson needed to talk together in the safehouse, the Harkers and I would be joined at the card table by Irene Adler. Whereas when Mary was available, she tended to partner with me in Bridge and Cribbage against the Harkers. Or against one of the Harkers, if either of them teamed up with Miss Adler.

Holmes did not attend these social evenings. He spent his time with Mycroft – or he was involved in some new, but minor, case that had come up. At least during these days he was not using the occasional cocaine and morphine injections that he had during our first years spent together. It seemed that he was taking my advice to heart, and had distanced himself from the needle and bottle. Then again, he had enough to occupy his mind with – now that he knew that at least some creatures of superstition were actually real. And some of them were indeed deadly.

From time to time, I would get to talk with Jonathan Harker, as I smoked on a cigarette in the garden of the safehouse. My usual ones, marked 'Bradley, Oxford Street'. The former solicitor would accompany me, whilst holding a glass of pig's blood in his hands as his means of enjoying our opportunity to talk as men together. He had refused my offer of a smoke.

"Vampires do not smoke, doctor. At least, none that I know of." He shook his head apologetically. "Inhaling the smoke into our undead lungs… Well, I tried it once, to blend in, as Mina and I headed back to London, as a newly undead couple. It made me cough violently. Smoking is unnatural to our kind."

"That is a shame….," I remarked. Then I changed track. "How is my wife…coping…with everything?"

Mr Harker smiled at me. "She is a good pupil, doctor. Mary is developing her powers and self-control. Mina and I are pleased with her so far. You should be proud of her, too."

I considered this, and then nodded. "I'll ask her myself how she feels she is doing, in that case." I paused, thinking. "So... Now that you and Madam Mina have helped us expose one nasty nest of vipers, what is the next move for yourselves and your…mortal helpers?"

"A good question – and one that I am not sure I should fully answer, Doctor Watson," he replied. "Some of my new family are still in Transylvania." Harker took a large sip of his drink, and sighed, savouring his…beverage. "But I think Mina and I should stay in this country for the remainder of this year, at least. Since we have tracked down and uprooted one vampire group with dishonourable intentions, we ought to be on the lookout for others – starting in this city and then expanding outwards. We should try to form some idea of how many there are – and how intelligent, organised, and dangerous they might be."

"That will take a long time, even with research. The British Isles have a lot of territory to cover," I observed. "You are just eight people so far – three vampires, and five mortals… Wait! You and Mina mentioned others of 'your family', in England…"

"Exactly. And I will not say how many – or where they are right now," Harker chuckled. Then his expression turned serious. "I feel sorry for your wife, Doctor Watson. Mina and I both had a choice to become what we now are. A choice born out of necessity, to be sure – but better than Mrs Watson, who had no say whatsoever in her fate… And I admire you for standing by your wife. She will need you to remind herself to hold onto her humanity, whilst she learns to defend herself and develop her new abilities."

"I understand this… But in time, she won't need me to help protect her – will she?" I pointed out. "She will be the stronger one – and forever remaining the age she is, whilst I slowly get older."

Harker studied my expression carefully. "And that fear makes you feel…impotent. That you will become a burden to her, in the course of time. That eventually you will become…redundant," said he.

I swallowed hard. I had to look away for a moment, even as I took a deep inhale of my cigarette to calm my nerves. "Yes," I managed to croak. "Blast it! I vowed to love, honour, and protect her always. Even though she is something…more than human now, I won't forsake her."

"And she does not want to forsake you. You are a good and honourable man, Doctor Watson. You trust us to look after your wife and teach her. At the same time, we are trusting you and Mr Holmes not to kill us, simply because of what we are."

I took in his words and earnest expression. In that moment, the irony struck me that this vampire – an occasional killer by instinct and necessity – was a better man than several mortal men and women I'd learned of through my association with Holmes and his work.

Then I saw Mary and Mrs Harker appear at the back door to the house. They were watching us with interest, and I wondered if they had heard anything of our man-to-man conversation.

"Are you gentlemen coming back inside for another round at the table, dear?" Mary directed her question to me, smiling.

I nodded and put out my cigarette. I gazed at Mina Harker, who was now allowing the blond roots of her hair to show. Soon, she and Mary would look vaguely like sisters. I knew that they were beginning to become friends. And I could see Mrs Harker looking at her husband with a sweet expression.

"You will always love your wife, come what may?" I whispered to Harker.

He nodded without hesitation. "We will always be lovingly devoted to each other. Until true death does us part," he whispered back. "The question is…how long will we both live, now that we will no longer age as normal people do?"

"I would like to hear your adventures, Mr Harker," I commented.

"And you shall. Including how I overcame my fears and accepted the vampiric kiss from Mina and my new sisters-in-blood." He smiled. "But not tonight. Come. Let us now return to our games…"

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Later that night, Mary invited me to her bedroom, which struck me as decent enough for the guest room that it was. Sitting on the side of her bed, we talked for a while about various topics – and then she enquired about the health of Mycroft.

"He has now recovered, thankfully," I answered. "He and Holmes are working together to track down Isadora Klein and her retinue. But, to my knowledge, there's been no sightings or clues as to where they've got to, as yet."

"Does Mycroft know the truth about me or the Harkers?" Mary's voice was low.

"Both Holmes and I vowed to keep your secrets safe, Mary! Holmes will not tell his brother about that side of the story. Obviously, Mycroft knows about Cherry Tree Lodge, and how it was run by vampires – but you and the Harkers are omitted from what Holmes has told Mycroft and the police." I sighed. "Mycroft is apparently more intelligent than Holmes. I dare say he will come to the right conclusions, given everything that has happened so far."

Mary was silent and still for a long moment. Then she nodded and spoke. "Even so, with Mycroft and the police now knowing about vampires, they will be on the alert for any vampiric activity within the city. That includes any evidence, any rumour, that Jonathan, Mina, and I might leave in our wake. We will have to be careful. It will not just be Klein and her retinue that we have to be afraid of…"

"It would be best if you and the Harkers keep a low profile whilst hunting, Mary. Please try not to kill anyone…," I pleaded to her.

She looked at me sadly.

"What if I did kill someone, John? Even if it was someone who deserved to die? A wife batterer. A rapist. Criminals of one kind or another? Even some poor people who were trapped in poverty – and wanted to embrace death?"

"I…"

"Because that is some of the experiences that Mina and Jonathan have met, since they became undead in Rumania. They are now, on occasion, angels of death. And I cannot guarantee that I won't become like them, John! I now understand and appreciate the thrill of the hunt. I do not want to hurt anyone who does not deserve death. But I am also sickened by some of the things I have seen of the darker side of this city, including through my charity work – and I can only imagine that it is similar in other cities in this country, let alone on the continent. Just as I saw poverty of another kind in India, even as a girl. I want to make things better, somehow. If I am to live forever, I need to have a purpose. Besides being your wife, I mean."

I put my hand on her gloved hand. "And you are wondering if you should become…an avenging angel of death. Like the Harkers are, at times. To take lives…"

"…and do something which is at odds with your duties as a doctor, John. You have sworn a vow to save people and help them from death and disease," Mary responded, trembling as she met my eyes. "Please understand me! I had no intention to harm anyone when I was…alive. But now that I am undead, I have predatory instincts. The two most fundamental of them are that, firstly I survive – survive at any cost. And, secondly, that I must drink human blood on a regular basis, in order to exist. Will you be able to forgive me if I killed again, John? Killed a human being – not an animal – I mean…"

"Mary… Please don't ask me that! If I said 'yes', I do not wish for someone to die, just because of what I said." I squeezed her hand. "But I am trusting you to hold onto who you are, Mary. I am trusting you…to be the good woman you have been – and still are. Despite…you now being a vampire."

My response satisfied her. Mary sighed and snuggled into my offered embrace.

"I have some questions, Mary. I hope you don't mind."

She looked up at me quizzically. "What about?"

I gave a nervous cough. "Pardon my scientific curiosity… But I would like to know how vampires are able to dissolve into mist and change their shape."

"I honestly don't know, John," she answered, looking thoughtful. "When I wish to alter my form, I just concentrate and think of my body breaking up into raindrops and reform into the shape that I want. Becoming a cat was my first experience – and that seems to be my natural animal form. But we can only change into certain creatures – cats, dogs, wolves, bats… I heard it whispered amongst the red robes that Count Dolingen had the rare ability to reform himself into a plague of rats." She shuddered at the thought.

"How come vampires are able to change along with their clothes?" I put to her.

Mary shrugged and smiled. "I have no idea. We really are supernatural beings! Not bound by science. And our powers apparently extend to anything we wear. Just as well… It saves time having to disrobe and get dressed again…"

"Well, yes…" I blushed, rubbing my chin. "What about garlic? I've already told you that Mrs Hudson was hypnotised into removing it from the hallway of 221B Baker Street, before Rachel Howells could enter it."

"I have not had to face any garlic since my return from the dead, John. But Mina and Jonathan have. They have told me that it affects all vampires. The scent makes us sick. We have trouble being near to it." Mary gave me a puzzled look. "I hope you aren't hoping to harm the Harkers, now that you have this information, doctor," she teased me.

I shook my head. "I just need to know certain things, so that I can defend myself from the vampires that held you captive – and so that I do not harm you at the same time." I paused and then asked my next questions.

"So, you need to drink blood once or twice per night – preferably human, although pigs' blood is the best substitute. What else can you tell me about your new biology, Mary?"

She shifted in my arms. "Besides not having to breathe, until we speak? And that I am like a broken clock? Meaning that the passage of time no longer affects my physical body? Well, my senses are keener. It takes some practice, but I can now block out some of the incoming sensations when they become too much – such as the stink around the docks. Likewise, I can extend my senses if I concentrate on one thing at a time. My eyesight in the dark is greater. I can hear your heartbeat clearly at this very moment. And I must have new tendons or muscles in my mouth now – because I can will my fangs to extend or retract. Though if I am thirsty, they extend of their own accord." Mary pulled back her head and frowned. "Sorry, I am making you nervous, John. Your heartbeat has just quickened."

I chuckled and took a series of deep breaths to calm myself down. "How long can a vampire survive without…feeding?" I wondered aloud.

"I was chained up in that wretched cell, along with those children for two nights before you freed me," Mary groaned as her expression turned furious. "I do not wish to ever suffer that again. You will have to capture Klein and have her tied up. And then see how she survives before she dies… Actually, from what the Harkers have told me, John, it may not be possible to kill a vampire that way. Our bodies apparently shut down and go into hibernation – a coma. A starved vampire may appear to be dead – but it would still awaken once there is a source of blood passing through its lips. Maybe even hovering close to its lips…"

Now I shuddered at the scene in my mind.

"And when vampires sleep, they are in a coma? Such as during the day?" I asked Mary.

My wife nodded. "But I still dream," she whispered.

"Do you remember what of?"

"There's been glimpses of scenes in my life. Early memories of India. My parents. My life with you." Mary's smile turned into a grimace. "But I also have terrible dreams of…my sire, as the term goes amongst my new kind. The one who accidently infected me. Count Dolingen. In those nightmares – or rather, a daymare - I have crawled over to a dark pit under a moonlit sky, and seen his face in the depths. He screams for his release – and I plead with him to go away and left me alone. In response, he snarls, and tells me that I am not the one he is calling out for. But he says 'You are needed by us, Mary Watson! You will serve me!' "

I stroked her beautiful hair, to calm her. "It is just a dream, dear. Do not let it disturb you."

"But I have had it twice now – with him speaking to me on the last occasion, the day after my escape from…that house. It means something, John. I am certain of it."

I did not know what to say to this. So I changed the subject to another question, as another thought came to me. "Do…? Do you remember anything from when the time you were dead, Mary? Before you woke up in your coffin?"

"A little," she confessed. And so she told me her vague memories of being in a bright place that she thought was India, with her parents greeting and hugging her. Her father thanking her for helping to an end to the Agra treasure business, and making it officially know that Major Sholto had caused his untimely death.

Her parents approved of her choice of husband. But, after an undetermined period of time, Captain and Mrs Morstan solemnly told Mary that she was obliged to 'go back' to earth. That she had to be true to herself, in order to avoid killing innocent people – and that the help she needed would come from her friends, old and new. Then she had the sensation of being pulled backwards from the family gathering by an unknown force. There was a tunnel of darkness surrounding Mary, whilst the light of the afterlife receded away before her. A roaring. Blackness. Then she abruptly awoke – in her coffin.

"Before I left them, my mother told me that you needed me. Another reason why I had to return," Mary admitted as she held her gloved hand in my bare hand. "And I am glad I am back with you – despite the circumstances."

"So am I. I missed you - dearly," I responded. "How do you feel now, given everything that has happened?"

Mary thought that over. She sighed. "Given the choice between being dead – and coming back as a vampire, in order to be with you, Martha, and Sherlock? Dear god, forgive me… If it had been my choice, I would have chosen to become a vampire, John! My time with you was cut too short. I wanted us to be happy together. I wanted to become a m-"

She trailed off and sniffed. Then she looked up and began to kiss me. On my forehead, my cheeks, then (teasingly) on my nose.

Next, she kissed me on my mouth. With love and longing evident in her delivery. Hunger, even. Hunger for a sexual partner of her own choice – instead of the men she had been obliged to…couple…with.

"I am ready, John… Ready for us to be…intimate again. I've been waiting for myself to be ready once more," she breathed.

I sighed with relief. "I am ready too, Mary," I told her.

Then the dam broke. We both moved, as one – our hands reaching upwards to stroke and caress each other. Mary breathed my name, as she moaned at the touch of my fingers upon her neck. I found the faint impression of bite marks there. They had healed as much as they ever would – for I knew that they were the remains of Count Dolingen's bite marks upon my Mary.

"Ohh…" Mary's lips curled upwards as I fingered her neck wounds.

"Urr!" I winced.

"John? What is i-?"

"Have you…fed…recently?"

"Yes. I wanted you to be in no danger for this moment… Oh! My breath! I am so sorry, John! Let me freshen my breath from the scent of pigs' blood!"

Mary was fortunate that within the past few days I had brought along many of her personal possessions that I still kept at our home. If Kaitlyn had been puzzled by my taking of Mary's toothbrush, amongst her jewellery and remaining clothes, she had not openly questioned it.

Minutes later, after her swift exit to the bathroom, Mary was back in the bedroom with me, smiling sheepishly. Her expression melted my heart, for it proved that she was still the woman I had fallen for during the Sign of Four adventure.

She began to undress me, and I did the same to her. This time, Mary's breath was mint fresh as she moaned in-between her hungry kisses…

Mary's hands, once I had pulled off her gloves, were cool on my bare skin. I shivered in anticipation of what was to come. I unpinned her hair, and her attractive blonde curls cascaded down over my hands, as well as her shoulders. We continued to feel one another, touching each other where and how we most needed it – as though our hands were stealthy predators themselves…

After some minutes, our bodies were joined together at the hips. The fit felt natural, just as it had before Mary's death had divided us. We both found our old, half-forgotten rhythms, and we did our best to satisfy each other.

But at the end, as Mary had her turn to be on top of me - and whilst she was kissing my neck, her moans suddenly turned into ones of despair. Quickly, she untangled herself and pulled away from me. My eyes shot wide open, and I sat up. In an instant, Mary was crouched on the floor and pressing her face against the adjacent wall. I heard her groan. Her clenched fist struck the wall, with a loud thud.

"No… No! I won't!"

From my position, I could see two trails of blood streaking my wife's cheeks.

"Mary…?" I whispered, as I hurried over and knelt down next to her. I reached out – then paused, realising that it could be dangerous to touch her at that moment.

"I wa-wanted to bite you, John!" she sobbed. "Even though I fed recently. "I wanted to taste you, savour you… I could have lost control, and…"

"But you didn't. You stopped yourself. You are stronger than you realise!"

Mary sniffed and half-turned to me. One eye stared at me in disbelief.

"Have faith in yourself, Mary. Like I have faith in you," I pleaded to her. "Next time… Next time we will do better together. You won't hurt me. And…I do not regret us being intimate again. I, for one, enjoyed it. I hope that…"

She turned fully to me. Then Mary quietly admitted, "I enjoyed it too, John. I… I needed it. I needed you."

I reached out again, and this time I wiped her tears away. There was silence between us for a long moment. The stillness was broken by Mary.

"I… I should dress. Then go downstairs to the icehouse and open another bottle of pigs' blood…"

"What if…I offered you, my wrist?" I forced myself to say.

Mary's baby blue eyes widened in surprise. "J-John…?" she whispered.

"You want to…taste me. Surely it would be safe for you to feed from my wrist, instead of my neck. And it will help you to feel more comfortable being with me, would it not?"

Mary chewed her lip in thought. "According to the Harkers, there is more to it than you think, John. If I feed from you more than once, a mental bond will form between us. I…will be able to sense you from afar. Well, within a few miles as I understand it."

I paused to let this sink in. "Will I be able to sense you?" I put to her.

Mary shook her head. "From what Mina and Jonathan have told me, drinking anybody's blood on a repeated basis will just create a psychic link one way. It could be a good thing, John! If you need me…"

I nodded, thinking that I would need Mary always, but that it would be useful to summon her, as it were, if I could not bear to be parted from her for too long. "Let's do this," I declared, offering my raised wrist to Mary. She flexed her jaw tendons, and I watched in fascination as her four fangs extended. Then, holding my hand steady, she delicately ran the end of her tongue across my skin, finding a vein – before carefully biting into it and lapping up my blood as if she was a cat licking itself. I sensed that she was keen to keep the carpet as clean as possible from any escaping drips of my blood.

I had gritted my teeth, but the sharp pain still caused me to cry out.

Once Mary had licked the wound clean, helping it to heal sooner than I expected, she noticed that I was dizzy. Lowering me onto the floor, and fetching a pillow for my troubles, she kissed me on the forehead again.

"Thank you, John. I am so lucky to still have you!" She smiled at me warmly as I rested, her face now glowing as a result of my blood making her stronger. "I love you," she whispered.

I smiled and closed my eyes as I held her close to me, whilst we lay on the carpet together.

"I love you, too, Mary," I told her from the bottom of my heart.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

Little did I realise then how soon my actions would affect what was to come…

On the following Saturday evening, I was eating the meal prepared for me by Kaitlyn. I had wondered if I should invite her to eat with me, given that the household was now just me – with Kaitlyn only present to carry out her duties. But I was worried that it would come across as the wrong thing to do. Kaitlyn was my servant, not a friend. And I was, despite the shocking discovery I had made with Holmes in the previous week, still officially a widower.

Whilst apologising for being forward, Kaitlyn had asked me, as she took away my emptied pudding dish if I would be keeping the house and still employing her, given the loss of Mrs Watson. But of course, she did not know the actual truth. I had kept my promise to Mary, and only brought Mrs Hudson into the secret.

"I have no plans to change anything, right now, Kaitlyn. You are a good maid – and I am happy to keep you on," I replied, smiling to reassure her.

She sighed in relief. "Thank you, doctor." She started to head towards the kitchen – but stopped at the doorway and turned back to me. "I miss 'er too, Doctor Watson. Your wife was very good to me," she said with a sad smile.

I paused, and then replied. "Yes, I have found that most people who knew Mary… They liked her greatly."

"You don't look so sad in the last few days, sir," Kaitlyn observed. "The mistress won't want you to be so…lost...with 'er gone. I hope… I hope the grief is starting to fade away, Doctor Watson."

I was taken aback by this touching statement. Eventually, I managed a smile. "I think that it is, Kaitlyn. Thank you."

She nodded. "I will wash up and put everything away. Will there be anything else to do, sir?"

"No. That will be all. Enjoy your evening, Kaitlyn."

"Very good, sir. Good evening to you, also."

"Take care in that fog tonight, Kaitlyn," I advised her, glancing out of the window that faced the back garden. "I did not realise the weather would be like this tonight. Most unusual for this time of year."

She followed my gaze, and then smiled back at me. "Not to worry, sir. I learned to defend meself against my brothers when they were pranking me, as kids. An' I can scream loud too, if some man tried to test me patience."

"I see. Well… Goodnight, Kaitlyn," I replied.

I had not decided what to do that evening. I had been seeing Mary at the Harkers' residence for several evenings in a row. With that, as well as me offering my blood to her on recent occasions, I was feeling more tired than usual – and I had told Mary that I would next visit her on the Sunday evening, instead on this night.

Writing more about the extraordinary events that had happened in the past week was upmost upon my mind. I decided that I would put pen to paper, in order to set the record straight and calm my emotions by channelling my energies outwards into my writing. Only, the account of this most personal case would never be presented to the general public. It would remain private between myself, Holmes, Mrs Hudson - and Mary herself, should she wish to read of the investigative case that had centred upon her own disappearance…

I had headed to my study straight after dinner, and had produced some work, when, through the closed window on the first floor, I could still hear Kaitlyn exit the house, via the servant's entrance to the kitchen, and head towards the yard gate. Then I was startled by the sound of what resembled…flapping.

Then came Kaitlyn's scream.

The thought suddenly struck me that I had never told Kaitlyn to wear a crucifix. I had never told her about the vampires – not wanting to involve her in any of that dark business…

"Oh, my god!" I whispered to myself, feeling a chill run through my very soul. Quickly retrieving my pistol and loading it with the holy water-filled bullets that Holmes had given me, I then raced down to the kitchen and the locked door. My hand shook as I pulled out my key. Finally managing to unlock the door, I flung it open to reveal the fog-filled yard and the post-sunset gloom. Peering out from the door and looking both ways, I froze as I spied Kaitlyn slumped on the surface of the yard. There was a dark-suited man bent over her, apparently with his mouth pressing against her neck…

"Get away from her! Now!" I roared, aiming my pistol at him.

The man raised his face and wiped away the fresh blood coating his lips. He grinned at me. Then he got to his feet, and poised himself as if he was going to charge at me. But he held his stance for now.

I gasped as I recognised him, and my hand shook, seeing that this time, he now had the fangs of a vampire.

"John Clay!" I breathed.

"Good evening, Doctor Watson," he said calmly, smirking.

"If you have killed my maid…"

"She still lives. I'll admit, despite being of peasant blood, she tastes wonderful. If you want to save her before she bleeds all over the place, come and get her!"

"How long have you been a vampire!? How did you know where I was?"

He sneered. "I've known where you live since Moran had me busted out of prison and told me your address. As for the day I was elevated to my privileged status, Klein gave me the baptism of blood after she failed to take back your escaped wife, doctor. She drained me, and I pulled myself out of the ground where I was buried on the grounds of Cherry Tree Lodge, ready to do my guard duty at night until either Holmes or one of my sisters turned up."

"Then why are you here now? Holmes has not told me that he would return to…" I cursed, and looked up, realising that I was being distracted.

The bat flew out of the fog at speed and headed straight towards my face. At the same time, Clay grinned, exposing his drooling fangs, and he pelted for me.

I had a split second to aim for either target. I decided to fire at the one I was already aiming at.

Clay screamed as the bullet struck his chest. A hissing noise issued from his wound as the holy water escaped from the cartridge. Then the incoming bat slashed its feet against my right arm, causing me to drop the pistol. It clattered upon the slabs that made up the ground within the enclosed yard.

I yelled and ducked back into the kitchen, clutching at my scratched arm. Luckily, there was more damage to my shirt sleeve than to the skin underneath. As I leaned against the cooker and felt my wound, however, I saw the bat land on the ground in my line of sight. Within seconds, its red-eyed gaze and its body dissolved into mist that quickly reformed itself into a familiar-looking woman, aged in her forties, still wearing the same dark dress that I had seen upon her during our previous meeting. She was also still scarred from the splash of holy water she had herself received in the sitting room at 221B – with one eye ruined. But I also noticed that the poker was no longer impelled in her body. She had rearranged her clothing to hide the grievous wound – but her clothes were red with blood. Her dried blood, I realised…

Quick as a flash, she kicked the pistol away before I could lean out and grab it.

"No, you don't, Doctor Watson!" Rachel Howells glanced at Clay, now on his knees and whimpering. She turned back to me. "What was in that bullet?" she hissed.

"Tell me how the blazes you're still alive, and I might just tell you what you want to know!" I fired back.

She growled and lunged forward in her attack, trying to claw at me with her talon-like fingernails – only to find herself unable to pass through the doorway. Howells howled her frustration.

I gasped in relief. "You can't get in, can you? You are NOT invited! Neither of you are permitted to be here. And I will not let you hypnotise me! Leave!"

"You cannot make us leave your property, outside of your house, doctor!" Howells bared her fangs at me, revealing herself to be the she-devil that she had become. "If you want to save your pretty maid, you'll have to come out and fetch her! But you'll need to get past me and Johny first!"

Blast her!

I swallowed hard and tried to calm myself down enough to think what to do. Howells would overcome me before I could reach the pistol. I would need another weapon, to hold off the two vampires and rescue Kaitlyn. Most of all, I need help…

And then the answer struck me.

Could I do it? Could I send a silent cry for help, via the blood bond that Mary had recently forged with me?

First, I needed to shut out the leering Howells. I didn't want her to see what I needed to do. So I closed the kitchen door in her face. Then I pulled out the sharpest knife from the knife rack. I was still shaking. I was contemplating killing two vampires. I was a doctor – not a vampire hunter. But I told myself that I had no choice, if I was to save Kaitlyn – and myself - from a gruesome fate. They had likely come to kill me…

I closed my eyes, and pictured Mary in my mind. As I had seen her last night, lit by gaslight, dressed elegantly in a blue outfit loaned to her by Mina Harker. One that matched her smiling eyes…

Help me, Mary! Kaitlyn and I are under attack from vampires – at our home! Help us…

After several moments of this, I was ready to give up. Then I shuddered as I felt something in my mind. A spark. A connection.

I felt a surge of anger. Not aimed at me. But directed at those who dared to harm me.

I am on my way, John!

It was a whisper. An impression. But it was enough. Mary had acknowledged my cry for help.

There was a bang on the kitchen door, making me jump with fright. I heard the taunting, leering voice of Rachel Howells calling out to me, in her Welsh accent.

"Oh, little pig! Come out, little pig… I can smell your juicy blood pumping away, doctor. That's good – ain't it? Your fear will add to the taste…"

I tried to think what to do. I could not reach Kaitlyn without exposing myself to being attacked by at least one hostile vampire. I did not know how badly wounded Clay was. But if I could play for time, and keep Howells talking, so that she could not hurt Kaitlyn…

"Did you intentionally kill Richard Brunton, the butler at Hurlstone house?" I barked at her, whilst I adjusted my sweaty grip upon the sharp knife in my hand.

"So you know about that, do ya…? Of course, the Mistress told me you wrote about what happened," Howells paused, before continuing. "Richard Brunton's death…was an accident. When that wretched man revealed the 'treasure' – those crumbling pieces of metal - I laughed at him for being a fool. He yelled at me to shut up, and as I flinched back, I dislodged the prop that held the flagstone up. The stone fell back into place, and I could'na lift it. Richard was screaming at me to fetch help. But I ran away, to my bed. That man jilted me for another woman! And I couldn't bring meself to care enough for him, in the end. But his death made me lose me wits for a while…"

"So you ran away from Hurlstone, instead of telling anyone where Brunton was, you coward! And how did you become a vampire, Miss Howells?"

"Ran away to the city, didn't I? Tried to get a new job, with a new name. That didn't work out well – 'til I became part of the whore house run by Count Dolingen and the Mistress. After years o' my faithful service, they deemed me suitable to be blessed with their gift. Now I will never grow old, doctor! I can mesmerise any man who wants my services. I now live better than I ever did when I was…human. Such a pity that Musgrave 'ad to interfere with my Lord and I, as we tried to kill Holmes's housekeeper… His nibs will pay for that – after we've finished with you..."

"Why did you try to kill Mrs Hudson?" I yelled at her.

"Because Holmes killed the professor – our provider and confident! When Count Dolingen learnt that Holmes was still alive and back in London, he wanted to flush your dammed friend into the open by killing that old woman that was so dear to him! Now, enough questions…"

So, it was as Holmes and I had feared. The attack upon Mrs Hudson and Mary, was in revenge for Moriarty's death.

"Oh no you don't, Miss Howells!" I yelled out, hoping that I sounded braver than I felt at that terrible moment. "Let's have an answer to the latest issue. How the duce did you come back to life? I saw you killed!"

She gave a gloating laugh. "I am beyond death, Doctor Watson. An' once I was able to fly again, I met with Johny boy here – an' we decided to come for you." There was a pause, and then she spoke again. "Holmes is dead, Doctor Watson! It's time for you to join him!"

"No!" I screamed in anger.

"Rachel! Look out…!" Clay yelled out – panic in his voice.

I heard a screeching cry and the flapping of more wings…

I could not stop myself from unlocking the kitchen door and opening it wide. Leaning my head outside in the misty evening air of the yard, I saw the incoming large bat swoop in and twist around in the air, as Rachel Howells snarled upon her face being scratched by the toe claws of the latest arrival. The blond-furred bat then blurred, turned into mist, and rapidly reformed itself into a woman dressed in the clothing of a labourer, complete with cap, shirt, waistcoat, and trousers. She landed gracefully on her hands and feet – and then sprang from her crouched position to leap at Howells, her fangs bared with animal ferocity, snarling.

"You! The one who tried to kill Martha, when your accomplice bit me!" my wife yelled.

Howells spat. "My lord died because he was distracted by feeding upon you! An' yet the Mistress wanted you alive, to serve our cause… Well, I will show you the strength of a true vampire, Bloody Mary Watson! One who ain't afraid of the beast inside of her!"

And then she engaged with my wife in a fight – where the two vampiresses slashed out at each other with their fingernails-turned-into-claws. They both ducked, dived, and rolled aside to avoid being wounded. But soon, they were both managing to tear skin wounds into one another, as Mary was being forced backwards in the dance of battle, to gradually retreat to the adjacent garden…

And whilst the two women were fighting, I whipped my head to my left – distracted by motion through the misty air. I saw John Clay force himself to crawl upon his hands and knees, in order to apprehend Kaitlyn, who was whimpering and trying to move from her slumped position in the yard.

My pistol! Where was my pistol? I could not see it in the misty gloom.

"Kaitlyn! Get back into the house!" I yelled as I charged forward and kicked out at Clay, to protect my maid. The sole of my shoe struck Clay in the head, making him cry out and fall over. But as I turned to help Kaitlyn up, Clay sprung like a tiger and caught me – both of his hands seizing my lower leg and yanking me off-balance. I fell down, grunting as I struck the ground. Soon, I was punching and kicking out for my very life, as Clay tried to get up and overpower me. He was wounded – making us near-equals for physical strength. But he had been younger before being turned into a vampire. He grinned – showing his drooling fangs, knowing that soon I would be worn down, and he would be able to make a meal out of me.

In the fighting, I barely made out the noises in the street beyond the opened yard gate. Somebody must have heard the bullet I had fired. Surely the police would be notified – if only there was a policeman in the area…

Close by, Kaitlyn moaned - but she seemed unable to move. She had one hand pressed against her neck.

As I pressed one of my hands against Clay's jaw, holding the frustrated vampire and his deadly fangs at bay, I managed to steal glances towards the dried up well, where the yard met the back garden. The pistol was there, at the base of the cracked wall. I had never got round to having it made safe…

Both Mary and Rachel Howells were still facing off each other in their battle – their eyes (that is, both of Mary's - and Howells's remaining eye) locked in their furious glares that promised death. The two ladies were now bleeding from the claw and slash marks they had dealt on one another. Their clothes ripped and torn in several places, also. I then saw them engage in furious melee combat again. I was spellbound by the sight of Mary swiftly blocking the other woman's punches and swipes with her arms – then making her own attacks in kind. Even adding the occasional kick to Howells's shin. Evidently, the Harkers had trained Mary well in melee combat. It was not ladylike – but I silently urged Mary on in her efforts, as she fought on for both me and herself. Mary's expression was fearful, yet determined and focused. Both women continued to bare their fangs at each other, as they hissed and snarled, demonstrating their inhuman natures…

After ducking Howells's swinging fist, Mary jumped in and punched the Welsh woman in the stomach, making the she-devil grunt and collapse next to the broom that was always left out in the yard. But as Mary rushed over to the well, to kneel down to pick up my pistol and spun round to shoot, it was already too late. Howells had swiftly moved, and she was now charging straight for my wife - the now-broken broom pole in her hands, as she roared her fury.

There was a gasp from Mary as she was slammed back-first into the wall of the well. Next, a brief, cut-off scream.

Howells fell to one side, grinning with her teeth. Both she and now I could spy the broom pole sticking out of Mary's chest – the jagged end of which she had been impaled with. She glanced at me with a pained expression. Her mouth gaping, her fangs still extended. Then, as if she was a marionette with its strings all suddenly cut at once, her whole body flopped to one side, and lay still and silent.

I let go of Clay, as I screamed.

"No!"

Howells howled with mocking laughter. She turned her remaining eye upon me. It seemed to briefly gleam red, glinting with the intent of delivering a slow, painful end to me and Kaitlyn.

"Make sure there's some of him left for me to sip, Johny!" she cried out.

Clay sniggered as he lunged at me again – this time forcing me to the ground, tilting my head back. Try as I did, I could not force him off or away. I shuddered as Clay's gaping mouth and fangs slowly drew closer to my exposed throat…

Then I heard the yard gate being open wide. Hurried footsteps followed.

"Our Father… Who art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name…"

"Aagghh!" Clay's iron-like grip on me faltered.

"Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. On earth as it is in heaven."

Mycroft Holmes! It was Mycroft's voice!

Feeling a surge of strength leaping out of my faltering spirits, I managed to roll my body towards the yard gate, throwing John Clay off me. Immediately, he raised his arms to shield his eyes from the sight of the lanterns wielded by Sherlock Holmes and the pair of policemen with him. Clay was also evidently fearful of the bible that Mycroft was holding up before him, directing it towards the now-vampiric fugitive. Mycroft also had his own lantern, which he held aloft with his other hand.

"Watson – get clear!" Sherlock Holmes warned me.

I nodded and I started to pull myself back up. I staggered back against the safety of the side of my house.

"Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses…"

"Shut up!" Clay roared at Mycroft. "It is I who have returned from the dead – not a made-up son of God! You don't really believe in that book…!"

"Then perhaps we can believe in this," Holmes announced coldly, as he raised the pistol in his hand, and promptly shot Clay in the chest. The man gasped as his latest bullet wound hissed with steam – just as his first one had.

Another holy water-filled bullet, then.

Howells screamed her fury at us.

I spun round and yelled. "Stop Howells! She killed Mary!" And without hesitating, I ran straight for the Welsh vampire, as her form began to blur. My anger spurned me on faster than I had ran for years…

"Give us this day our daily bread. And forgive us our trespasses…" Mycroft raised his voice as he walked on in my wake, doing what he could to weaken Howells with the power of prayer.

The vampiress wailed as her form solidified before me. She turned and tried to run – but I leapt forward and brought her down with a rugby tackle. Her forehead slammed into the broken well with such force, she dislodged a couple of bricks.

"…As we forgive those who trespass against us…"

"Shoot Clay again with this if he moves! But keep him alive!" I heard Holmes order the policemen. "Sergeant – give me your truncheon!"

"Yessir!"

Howells soon recovered, though, and squirmed out of my grasp. She fought like a furious wild cat – just as she had against my Mary. Who she had just murdered before my eyes…

She slashed out at me with her clawed hands, cutting into my cheek. If I hadn't stepped back, she would have reached my throat. However, in my retreat I lost my balance and I fell next to the dislodged bricks.

Holmes charged in and raised the truncheon in his hand, ready to whack our foe with it. Howells's sex did not matter. She came here to kill. She had killed Mary, and I was determined that this undead monster would not slaughter anyone else here…

"And lead us not into temptation…," Mycroft Holmes fought to keep his composure as he slowly walked closer to the unfolding battle to undermine Howells's concentration, whilst keeping himself out of her reach. The vampire gritted her teeth, pained by the reciting of the Lord's Prayer. The power of holy faith directed at her.

And yet, she still managed to twist round in time – to grab Holmes's right wrist, preventing him from striking her with his weapon. With her other hand, she shot past my friend's defence, and grabbed his throat. With a grin, she squeezed.

"Urr…!" Holmes's face turned red, and he dropped the truncheon as he tried to break free of the vampire's rigid grip.

"Doctor Watson! Help Sherlock!" Mycroft yelled at me.

I acted instinctively. Grabbing one of the fallen bricks from the well, I swiftly got to my feet and swung it into the side of Howells's head. She cried out, but continued to throttle Holmes.

"But deliver us from evil…!" Mycroft bellowed.

I slammed the brick into Howells again. And again. This time in her face -forcing her to break contact with Holmes, and stagger back into the side of the broken well.

And there, her eye and mouth opened wide amidst her bloodstained face, as she began to topple backwards. She tried to grasp the brickwork, but her hands were now red with her own blood…

"Nnnooo…!"

With a wail of despair, Howells fell into the well, headfirst. Her feet soon followed. Then she disappeared into the shaft, screaming.

There was panting besides me, and Mycroft Holmes appeared besides me, breathing after his sprint, shining his lantern so that myself, he, and his now-recovering brother could all observe the results. We can now make out the sight of Rachel Howells's body sprawled, face up, on the dried-up base of the well.

Then, to my horror, she twitched!

Seconds later, the despicable woman snarled and twisted herself, so that she could force herself onto her knees with the aid of the nearest side of the well to her. Howells raised her face upwards. It was smeared with blood from her head wounds, and she pulled back her lips in hatred.

"I will…get you…for…this!" she growled. Then she began to climb the side of the well, as if she was some oversized spider. Her progress was painfully slow at first, but gradually she was recovering…

The brick dropped from my hand in my shock. Thankfully, I missed striking my foot with it.

"Hurry! She must not get out!" Holmes roared at us. He kicked repeatedly at the cracked brick wall of the well. Gradually, the clipped mortar came away.

Mycroft and I was briefly taken aback. Fear and desperation overcame my doubt – and the two of us joined in the hurried vandalism of my old garden well. The bricks began to 'crack' into small clumps of bricks.

Howells howled as she was rained upon by the clips and dust of the dislodged mortar. "Don't…you…dare!" she screamed, as she continued to climb the shaft – now nearly at the top, her fangs bared at us, promising murder…

And then, a section of the already-broken wall caved in and dropped into the shaft. It struck Howells, managing to dislodge her grip. With another wail, she fell back into the shaft.

Then, with all three of us men repeatedly kicking at the remaining sections of the well's wall from all around, the remaining bricks toppled into the shaft. For added measure, I threw in the brick I had dropped.

There was a final, blood-curdling scream from Rachel Howells. Then she fell silent forever, crushed in the improvised tomb fate had created for her. The light from Mycroft's lantern now-unsteady grip revealed a hand protruding from the rubble – but the dust-laden, blood-streaked hand, stretched towards us at an angle, was still.

This time, the vile woman would not return from the dead.

"For thine is the kingdom and the power, and the glory. Forever and ever," Mycroft breathed.

"Amen," concluded Sherlock Holmes, rubbing his bruised throat.

*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*o*

The fighting was now over.

Over the fence, I was dimly aware of the neighbours speaking to one of Mycroft's police constables, who was evidently keeping them out from the yard. No doubt the people living around our house had been startled by the gunshots and were trying to find out what the blazes was going on.

I was grateful for the fog around me. It helped to hide the tragic scene from my neighbours.

A part of my distracted mind managed to take in Holmes and his brother commenting on the fact that they had lost one vampire captive, only to gain another – and I realised that they were meant that the wounded John Clay was now their undead prisoner. Mycroft then turned and shouted to one policeman, asking about Kaitlyn's condition.

Kaitlyn had slipped from my mind. My mind was fixated on two things. One was that, in my fury, I had actually killed a woman. I was a doctor – sworn to do no intentional harm to others, as part of my Hippocratic Oath. True, I had killed before. During the adventure of the Sign of Four, I had shot Tonga – and his body had eventually been recovered by the police from the Thames, where he had fallen into the depths. And there had been other times I had acted in a deadly manner to save someone else. Shooting the Hound of the Baskervilles, for example.

Rachel Howells had left me no choice, I tried to tell myself. She had embraced the darker side of her vampiric nature, and she had been about to kill Holmes. She was no longer exactly human – and killing her, in the circumstances, had not been an evil act, but a necessary one. Even so, I had helped to seal her fate in being crushed to death – a more gruesome method than a bullet.

And the second, even more pressing issue on my mind was that for the second time within a month, I was crying over Mary's lifeless body. I refused to allow Holmes to pull me away – and so he stepped back. In the corner of my eye, I saw him hang his head low and remove his Homberg hat as a sign of respect.

"Watson…," my friend said softly. "Your wife might be st-"

"Leave me alone, Holmes!" I snapped at him, before turning my gaze back to Mary's frozen expression of terror. I would need to close her eyelids soon.

"Why is your wife here, Watson? As soon as I realised Howells could be after you, Mycroft and I came straight here with some men."

"Mary… She and I had recently forged a mental link, Holmes. I allowed her…to take my blood twice on consecutive nights. When Howells and Clay attacked me and my maid, I summoned Mary through our link," I quickly explained, throwing in the detail that both Howells and Mary had arrived here in the form of bats. Probably Clay did, also. "How…? How the devil did Rachel Howells return to life? They told me you were dead! They came to kill me!"

"Dead? Howells must have been taunting you, Watson. And to explain matters, Mycroft and I had the body of Howells held in a government mortuary," Holmes told me. "We wanted to see if we could get more answers than just the ones gained by testing chemicals on her dead body, so we pu-"

I gasped aloud.

Immediately, I sensed Holmes tense, and he got down upon his knees besides me. "What is it, Watson?" he breathed.

"Mary… Her eyes aren't in the same position as when she was staked! I'm certain." I managed to croak. I tightened my grip on her. "Mary? Can you hear me?"

There was no sign at first – and then her eyes slowly moved. To one side, and then back.

"She's not dead!" I exclaimed, with astonishment.

Holmes laid his hand upon my shoulder. "I was about to tell you, Watson… Howells came back to life… Because Mycroft and I wanted to test a theory. We had kept the fire poker lodged in Howells's heart. And when he and I were in the private lab with her body on the table, we pulled out the poker out of her heart – to see if she would come back to life. She was still strapped down. Nothing happened – but when she was being unstrapped and taken off the table by the attendants, Howells suddenly lashed out, taking us all by surprise. After a verbal standoff whilst she held a bitten attendant as her hostage and shield, she managed to escape us, rush upstairs, break a window, and then change into a bat and fly away." He shook his head with annoyance at himself. "I will not underestimate these creatures again! Her heart must have repaired itself within a minute, after we took out the poker. Remarkable!"

"Then if a vampire can heal from a staked heart as soon as the weapon is removed…," I reasoned.

"Exactly, Watson! Let us see if we can rescue Mary by removing this broken-off broomstick!" Holmes cried.

And so, working together, I held Mary down – whilst Holmes carefully pulled out the broomstick. After several moments of dreadful squelching noises, he guided the wooden pole out from underneath my wife's ribcage – at the same angle it had been rammed into Mary. Holmes tossed the offending improvised weapon away.

I held my breath as we waited for something, anything…, to happen. Eventually I had to breathe again. I trembled and silently prayed to a god I was not sure existed – despite Mary's account of what might have been her slice of heaven, shortly before she first arose as a vampire.

Holmes was studying his watch, whilst keeping one eye on Mary. "Forty seconds… Forty-five… Fifty…"

Suddenly, we heard squishing noises within Mary's chest. Holmes held a lantern to her, and in the light cast we saw her heart swiftly repair itself. It was like watching a fruit turn rotten – but it was a process in reverse and speeded up. Days turned into moments before our wide, incredulous eyes.

With the heart now reassembled, the body cells and tissues within her chest sealed themselves to, closing the grievous wound. Soon, aside from the dried blood and damage to her clothes, Mary's body was back to the state she was in before she had been impaled.

And then, abruptly, she spasmed back into life, making us jump in fright. My wife gasped and grabbed both my arm and Holmes's arm to steady herself. She panted.

"Welcome back, Mrs Watson," Holmes declared, smiling at her. "You are truly a brave and remarkable lady!"

"Thank you, Mr Holmes…" Mary wheezed. Taking another deep breath to steady herself. "Still, please do not have ME on a mortuary slab for you and Mycroft to open up and examine."

In the light from the lamp, I saw Holmes raise his eyebrows. "So you heard that. You were not dead, after all."

Mary shook her head. "I was paralysed when that broom handle went through my heart. It seems that the lore about staking vampires is wrong." She managed a little smile. "Or was it the wrong type of wood?"

I smiled and hugged her tightly. Mary returned the embrace, then she gently pushed me away. "I need blood, John. My body healed that terrible wound of its own violation. But I need to replenish my energy…"

I nodded and was about to offer my wrist again – but Holmes stuck out his hand between us.

"I understand that your husband has provided his blood to your twice, lately. Let him rest and allow me to assist you, Mrs Watson. Unless you have a preferred blood type?"

Mary shook her head. "So long as the blood is clear of any drugs, it does not matter. Or so I have been taught. I trust you have not…?"

"I have not fallen back on my…artificial stimulants…since returning to this county," Holmes reassured her. "Your husband has helped me to change my ways."

And so, I watched as Mary licked my friend's wrist, before gently piercing the skin with her sharp canines. She lapped up the offered blood, carefully swallowing it all.

There was a cry from one of the policemen. I turned and followed the outstretched, pointed hand, to see through the now-dispersing fog, a pair of bats descending from the sky, heading straight for us. Mycroft and the policemen – as well as I – all tensed ourselves for another fight. And I snatched up my nearby gun. But Mary broke off from her feeding and called out to us. "Worry not! They are my friends!"

We watched the bats descend and land on the edge of the roof that was closest to us, keeping their heads facing down over the guttering to peer at Mary. She stared at them for several moments, with myself, Holmes, and Mycroft, watching both them and Mary. Then the two bats flew off together, soaring into the evening sky.

Holmes returned his keen gaze to my wife.

"You were able to communicate with the power of your minds?" he asked her.

Mary nodded. "My kind can do so, once we know how to direct our mental abilities." She then licked at the wounds she made upon Holmes's wrist – just as Mycroft strode back over to us. He made no comment about her feeding from his brother – but instead bowed to her.

"Mrs Watson – it is good to see you once again. Sherlock and I…we owe you and your husband an apology. If we had known that Howells would recover so quickly, and evade us…"

Mary put up her hand to cut him off. She huffed. "What you men did was rash – but you came here to rescue John. Just as I did – only I can move faster than you. Nevertheless, I accept your apology, Mycroft Holmes!"

"And I personally apologise to both of you," Holmes stated, nodding to me and Mary.

"Thank you," said I, turning my eyes towards John Clay and Kaitlyn. "You can now take Clay away for your interrogating and…scientific testing. But…what's Kaitlyn's condition?"

Mycroft bowed his head. "She's lost a lot of blood. We need your advice, Doctor Watson. We dare not move her!"

I quicky got to my feet. "Let me fetch my medical bag!"

I rushed inside and I was back in the yard within the minute. Holmes thoughtfully gathered some cushions from the house and carefully lifted Kaitlyn's head, before sliding them underneath. Meanwhile, the policemen and I were working together to keep pressure on Kaitlyn's neck wounds, before I applied a pad and bandages.

"Will she be alright, Watson?" Holmes asked me.

"Kaitlyn's out of immediate danger, but she needs a blood transfusion," I declared as I finished my examination of her. "We need to use your transport to get her to hosp-"

"John. Let me help," Mary spoke up as she knelt beside me. Her voice was calm – but her expression betrayed her worry.

I stared at her in surprise. "Mary… Are you intending to…?"

"No. I won't take blood from her. I mean to offer her my blood – to heal her. Jonanthan and Mina sensed that Kaitlyn was weak. They told me, with their minds, that I can save her!"

Kaitlyn was groggy, but she stared at my wife with wonder.

"Mistress Mary…? But you are dead! I attended your funeral – along with the master, here…"

"Not exactly 'dead', dear. I am undead." Mary smiled at our maid sadly. "I can heal you, with my blood – but it will mean that you will be bonded to me, like an addict, for the rest of your life. Otherwise, you must go into hospital."

I nodded. "As in now – or you might not survive the night, Kaitlyn."

"You're a vampire…" Kaitlyn whispered. She gasped for breath, and then made her decision "I missed you, mistress! I don't care what you are! You came here to save me and the doctor…"

"Yes, I did," Mary stroked Kaitlyn's cheek with her bare hand. "Please don't die on us, Kaitlyn."

"Then do what you must, Miss Mary," Kaitlyn assented.

I watched Mary cut into one of her wrists with a sharp fingernail on her other hand, before pressing her wound to the mouth of our maid. Holmes raised her head, so that she would not choke.

After a minute or so, Mary finished feeding her blood to Kaitlyn. My wife sighed and rested her head against me.

"More blood for you?"

She nodded. "Please…"

"Allow me to make amends for your troubles. You can drink from me, in your dining room, Mrs Watson." Mycroft rumbled. He nodded to his brother. "Sherlock, help escort the lady inside with us. The doctor needs to keep watch over his patient. Oh, and can someone please keep the maid warm under their coat?"

"Of course, Mycroft," Holmes took over his coat and laid it over Kaitlyn, before assisting his brother to take Mary inside, ready for her next feeding.

Mary paused at the kitchen door.

"What is it, Mrs Watson?" Holmes asked her.

"I hope that the force that prevents my kind from entering homes uninvited will not apply here. This was my home, after all…," she replied sadly.

"It still is your home, Mary," I called out to her.

Mary stuck out one hand at the threshold. She did not cry out. Instead her hand pushed at empty air into the kitchen. Sighing with relief, Mary entered the house, along with Holmes…