John was on his fourth beer. He wasn't drunk but he was slowly getting there. He didn't like getting drunk all the time, mainly due to the fear of becoming an alcoholic like his sister. It just couldn't be helped sometimes, especially when you live with Sherlock Holmes. It is what kept him sane.

As he nursed his beer, he went over what happened with Sherlock. The nerve of that man. He honestly made this whole thing about him. Well, it was sort of about him, but that is not the point. Sherlock could be honest with John. He never gave the madman a reason not to. It was just…upsetting that Sherlock felt he had to lie. And it wasn't even a good lie, it was some insane story about bloody vampires! (No pun intended).

Maybe the ridiculous story was to get John to stop pressing Sherlock about it? He clearly didn't want to talk about what happened. If that was the case, he should have just told John, but this was Sherlock Holmes. He did not express his feelings. John was giving him too much credit. Thinking Sherlock would actually treat John as a friend and talk to him.

Groaning, John finished off his beer and ordered another one. It was about eleven in the evening and the pub he was in was fairly empty. It was a weekday, and he wasn't expecting a lot of people, which was perfect. John wanted to be left alone with his thoughts. Not having to worry about Sherlock staring at him with his deducing eyes. Not having to worry that someone from the pub would come to talk to him. The people that were here weren't looking to socialize tonight. Just like John.

As the night went on and more beers were consumed, John finally decided to call it a night. It was probably one in the morning, he wasn't sure, and he drank more than he should have. He was going to feel this in the morning. But at least this time out of the flat gave him time to cool off. He had been angry all week and was unable to shake the feeling. Or maybe it wasn't anger. Maybe it was the feeling of being hurt?

Once outside the fresh air slapped his face causing his senses to be less fuzzy than before. He was too drunk; thank God the flat was only a few blocks. John started to make his way to Baker Street. He was vaguely aware of the feeling of being watched, but there was no one out at this hour.

"Excuse me?" A man called from behind John. He scanned the space in front of him, finding no one there. Was someone calling him? "John, John Watson?" The man called his voice excited like seeing an old friend after so many years. John stopped and turned to face the man. He was tall, of course, muscular built, with light brown hair. He wore a dark blue suit, but in the evening light it looked black. John did not know this man.

"Yeah, I-I'm John," He slurred, not really a great time to speak to someone.

"I thought it was you! I can't believe I ran into John Watson on the street! I read your blog, it's really interesting by the way. Is Sherlock with you?" The man asked with a note of tension. John was too drunk to notice though.

"No, he's just…he's at home." John struggled. He was not used to fans really wanting to meet him. Sherlock of course, but John, not so much. Of course, he would meet a fan when he was piss drunk.

The disappointment he felt for being drunk quickly left his mind when the man's facial expression changed. He went from cheerful, excited fan to dark craze killer. John felt himself sobering up, getting the feeling that he was in danger.

"I need to get going…good meeting you," John said as he started to turn around.

Suddenly he was pinned against a nearby building. John struggled against the man, but it was like trying to push a boulder. How the hell was this man so strong? He glared at the man and noticed that he was snarling at John, and he had. He had…fangs. He started to struggle more. He needed to get away from this freak.

"John, John look at me. Look. At. Me." The man ordered, and John couldn't help but obey, "Good now stand still." Once again, he obeyed, staring at the man in a daze, "Alright, I have a message for your dear friend Sherlock. You are going to give him my message as soon as you see him, then when you're done you will fall asleep and not remember any of this. Do you understand? Nod if you understand," The man ordered. John nodded, feeling odd that he couldn't control his actions. What the hell was this guy? "Good now here is his message…"


Sherlock heard the door open to 221, finally, he thought as he stood from the sofa. It was nearly three in the morning and Sherlock knew John would be tired, but he needed to speak with him. If Victor was indeed the vampire that was threatening Sherlock, then he had to have John back. Back to his normal caring self.

When John entered the flat, he did not appear to be himself. He looked lost and not completely there as if in a trance. His eyes were glossy, and his mouth hung open slightly. His blood sounded sluggish. It was still singing, it just sounded…muffled now. What on earth happened to him? Alcohol does not do this to a person.

"John, are you alright?" Sherlock asked, taking a step towards him. John's head rolled towards Sherlock lazily.

"Hello there Sherlock, it has been a while," John's voice was monotone as he spoke, "I happened to run into your friend and thought I would show you just how easy this is. How easy it is to get to the one you care most for. I could have killed him tonight; he was so defenseless, but I thought this would be more fun. Having you watch your friend be a mindless dummy for me. Making him do whatever I tell him," John paused then made his way to Sherlock. Sherlock was looking at John with concern. What could he do to wake John up?

Before he could think of ideas John stopped in front of him, lifted himself on his toes, and roughly pulled Sherlock towards him crashing their lips together. Sherlock froze. John was kissing him…Victor instructed John to kiss him. Sherlock was going to push John off but then he ran his tongue along Sherlock's lower lip. Sherlock lost all his senses.

He grabbed John's shoulders and pulled him closer as he opened his mouth slightly to let John's tongue meet his. John quickly slipped his tongue into Sherlock's mouth causing the man to groan. Sherlock had never felt anything like this. John was kissing him with such force and desire it was making Sherlock's knees weak.

Sherlock matched John's intensity. Being encouraged to do so by the sound of John's blood. It was still muffled but it sounded like it was humming with delight and John's heart was racing. It was beautiful. Sherlock needed more. He needed John to touch Sherlock and let Sherlock touch him. But most of all he needed to taste John. Just once and he would be satisfied. He just wanted to drink John. Wanted to taste his humming blood.

Sherlock didn't even get a chance to make a move to John's neck. He was shoved away, not expecting it, Sherlock stumbled back and stared at John confused. Both men were panting now, and Sherlock was sure he looked like a lustful idiot but John. John returned to the dazed and confused look as if nothing happened.

"Just proving a point," John panted out, but his tone was still monotone, "Get Mycroft off my back and I will leave you all alone. If you don't. I will kill John…in front of you," John finished. He seemed to 'wake up' after blinking a few times, "Sher-?" John eyebrows came together in confusion then his eyes fluttered closed and he began to fall to the floor.

Sherlock quickly caught John and stared at the sleeping man. He realized then that, not that he would ever admit this out loud, but his brother was right. John and Sherlock were a couple, and that heated kiss made him want to be one. He knew that it was an impossible scenario. So instead, he would do whatever he could to protect John.