Chapter Text
Sherlock bared his fangs and stared at himself in the old mirror. Naturally, it was utter nonsense that vampires didn’t have an image in a mirror. He snorted when thinking about it.
His life would have been more complicated if the lore were true. More snorting.
He still needed to pack his belongings others weren’t allowed to touch such as clothes and treasures taken before he would be moving into his new place.
He didn’t want to move back to London. He liked Ireland. The island though had become too dangerous. His fellow vampires had behaved too obvious, and now he had to leave his precious place.
He sighed and shook his head.
He always preferred living on his own. Without too many people around. He never needed several blood slaves or donors; a few were enough. He detested places where people gathered in masses. It was unbearable.
He didn’t understand why his fellow vampires needed to come out into the open and show themselves. Now he had to leave because of them, and he hated it. He would have liked to kill them all and just stay, but it wasn’t possible.
Firstly, vampires weren’t supposed to kill other vampires. It was a sin. Naturally, there were exceptions. Not for everyone, though. Secondly, his brother wouldn’t like that kind of behaviour, and therefore, he held back. He needed his brother’s support.
His brother, who fortunately had never left London and because of his powerful presence there, it was his destination of choice.
He looked over his shoulder when he heard noises. Human noises. They were so loud. He pulled a face and turned around fully to look at the human blood slaves carrying some of his boxes away.
He raised an eyebrow, and they moved faster.
He knew they would have to die because he was going to leave. He also knew they knew. He couldn’t take them with him. He couldn’t even feed off them because they had become too old. He simply had gotten used to them. It would be exhausting to find new ones.
And even if he found new ones, where would he keep them? His brother had said something about a place in central London. He couldn’t possibly hide humans in there as he did in this castle in the countryside by the coast.
He needed to trust his brother to have taken care of everything. And to his utter disgust, he knew that he had taken care of everything. He was powerful, and that was the only reason he was going back to London.
His brother, who was actually his real brother, had promised to take care of him and his needs for the first few weeks until he had established his new life. Sherlock was grateful, even though he normally loathed his brother. But he was in a powerful position within the British government, which was extremely useful.
He sighed some more and looked around for the last time before he broke the necks of his two most beloved ones to grant them a quick and painless death. The other ones would just painfully die the moment he left the island.
Sherlock was already dressed for travel. He had sun protection, sunglasses and instead of a hat, he used a hoodie. He was up to date with fashion and knew how to fit in.
He cast a last glance into the mirror and finally turned away. He ordered the last remaining slave to take care of the mirror and left.
***
He felt it right the very moment when all of his blood slaves died. It physically hurt him and gave him great pain. He hated it.
Fortunately, he had only experienced it a few times during the last centuries.
He closed his eyes and sank a bit deeper into the seat on the plane. His brother had arranged a private jet. That’s why he was offered fresh blood on board, and he appreciated it a lot.
The flight from Ireland to London didn’t take long, but it felt long enough. He preferred horses or, lately, cars. Cabs. Sometimes, their drivers were even drinkable.
He used the time on board to think about the present. It was a wild and hectic time. It was also a very interesting time. He had found out about so many new things. There were computers and mobile phones, large TV sets. He had once eaten an electrician after he had installed everything in his place in Ireland.
He wondered about his new place in London. His brother had found him a place to stay. It was in central London, and he would have a housekeeper, too. She was an old vampire, and Mycroft, his brother, knew her from ages ago. She must be rather powerful, too, to be still alive.
By now, he looked forward to the new experience and tried to be open-minded.
Surely, he would be able to find new blood slaves. He couldn’t always drink bottled blood like now. He needed it fresh.
What he also needed was sex. He had always loved sex. Wild, animalistic, rough sex. Mycroft had promised that London was just the right place for that. He had sent some links already, and Sherlock had checked them out. Afterwards, he had to go out and find someone.
He stared out of the window when the plane touched down. He saw his older brother waiting beside a large and luxurious car. He pulled a face but reminded himself to be friendly. He wanted, needed, him. For now.
***
“Mycroft.” Sherlock nodded to him while climbing down the stairs.
“Sherlock, brother dear.” Mycroft nodded back, and they looked at each other. No more words were needed because they were both strong telepaths.
They shared some blood when sitting in the back of the car.
“I am going to show you to your new place. You are fully stocked for a few days. I have arranged for something to have fun with. Let me know when you are done, and it will be replaced.” Mycroft said.
“It’s just what I need right now. What about the laboratory?” Sherlock asked.
“You have all the equipment you asked for inside your place. I also arranged access to the laboratory of St. Barts. There are two trusted persons working there, and you can talk freely around them.”
Sherlock was fairly surprised. This news was good, much better than expected.
“Why are you so friendly?” Sherlock asked, slanting his eyes.
“You are my family, brother mine. I haven’t seen you for a very long time.” Mycroft said.
“What do you want from me?” Sherlock asked, not buying anything his brother said.
“Well, you know I am holding a rather powerful position inside the British government. I could use someone with your brains to help sometimes. Find me answers, people, documents.”
“You mean get rid of people and bring you stuff?” But Sherlock grinned. Mycroft shrugged but showed his teeth as well.
Several minutes passed until Mycroft started to speak again.
“Will you finally try and find your…” He couldn’t finish his question because Sherlock stopped him, holding up his hand.
“Don’t. You know I am not interested in finding my soulmate.” He sounded hard.
“Then you will die very young, and you know it.” Sherlock sighed.
“Will you be very sad about it?” Mycroft just looked at him, and Sherlock lowered his head.
“Apology.” He chewed on his lip. “But you know me. I can’t force it, and you know that, too.”
“I know.” Both vampires sighed. Sherlock looked at his brother again, sensing something.
“What about you? Have you…?” He asked, and Mycroft cleared his throat.
“No! Really? Since when? You didn’t say a word!” Sherlock was surprised and also very curious.
“He doesn’t know about any of this. He doesn’t even know about vampires existing.”
“Meaning he doesn’t know about you and your feelings for him as well.” Mycroft shook his head.
“No.”
“Why not just take him?” Sherlock wondered.
“No. I can’t. It’s different.” Mycroft slowly replied.
It took Sherlock a moment to understand.
“We are not talking someone to fuck. We are, in fact, talking soulmate. Do we?” He stared at his brother.
“We do.”
For once, Sherlock was speechless.
They rode in silence for the rest of the trip to Sherlock’s place. Downstairs, his brother knocked at the door with a golden 221B on it.
“Don’t you have a key?” Sherlock asked.
“It would be impolite since she is here. Be nice.” The last words he only hissed because the door was pulled open and a smallish lady stood there staring up at them.
Sherlock sensed her power instantly and relaxed. She would be great as a housekeeper.
“Mycroft, there you are. And you must be Sherlock. Oh, I only heard of you.” She shook her head but smiled while doing so.
“Please, do come in. Everything is prepared and ready for you.” She led the way and almost flew up the seventeen stairs.
She pushed the door open and let him in first.
“There you go, dear.” Sherlock entered and looked around. He liked it at once. All his things were here already. Even his beloved mirror. He saw his lab equipment, too. There was even a kitchen.
He slowly walked around and opened another door right into a bedroom and a wardrobe. There was a bathroom, too.
“What’s upstairs?” He asked.
“Just another room if you will be keeping someone for a while longer.” She explained. Sherlock nodded. That was sensible.
She expectantly looked at him, and he finally turned to her, all smile and fangs.
“I love the place. Thank you so much for getting it ready. I appreciate it a lot.” She beamed at him, and then she actually hugged him.
He couldn’t move at first, but then he relaxed. He hadn’t been hugged for ages. Centuries ago.
“All your suitcases are in the bedroom. I didn’t touch your clothes, dear. Your brother stocked the fridge. Your snack is downstairs in 221C. Please, do tell when you are done, so I can get rid of the body. If there are any questions, I am just downstairs.” She greeted Mycroft and hurried away.
Sherlock looked at him.
“Perfect.” Mycroft nodded.
“Did you get rid of your old mobile?” Sherlock nodded.
“I did everything you asked for.” He added.
“Very good. There is a new mobile as well as a laptop for you right over there. I believe you can make them run yourself?” Sherlock snorted.
“Please!”
“I’ll leave you be then. There are some documents on the counter regarding food supply, dry cleaner, as well as the address of Barts and the names of my trusted ones. They know you will be around. Just check it out and see if it works.”
“Will do. Thank you, brother dear, and this time I mean it.” Mycroft snorted and left the flat, swirling his umbrella around.
Sherlock closed the door and walked up to the windows to watch him leave. He exhaled.
***
After having tried the blood from the fridge, he examined everything. He found nothing to complain about. Everything was just perfect. Even the upstairs room was.
He rubbed his hands.
Perhaps, he could lure someone inside and make him stay. They wouldn’t notice at first that something was wrong with him. He grinned.
Just a little bit of magic and glamour, and they would fall for him. He would never be hungry again, neither for blood nor for sex.
He decided to go outside and have a look around. He needed to find out about the surrounding streets, places, and restaurants. He also wanted to look at the roof of this building. He liked looking over a city from a rooftop.
He had already seen a large park on the way here. They had driven by, and Mycroft had pointed it out. A park was a great hunting place. There were always people to eat or fuck. Or both.
Sherlock rubbed his hands. Before, though, he needed to unpack a bit. The clothes came first.
After having found his favourite coat and scarf, he put them on and left the flat. Coming downstairs, he heard music coming from his housekeeper’s place. Rock music. What a strange choice. But he liked her. Mycroft had made a good choice. Sherlock was very pleased with everything so far.
He strolled around for hours and, as predicted, had a snack in Regent's Park. The scent of all the people, their heartbeats. Too loud. Too tempting. It was almost overpowering.
It had been almost too easy and therefore boring. He had been walking slowly and soon sensed someone checking him out. His nostrils widened, but it was only a human. He focused, and their eyes met.
He was attractive, and Sherlock lured him close by using glamour. He smiled enigmatically, and in a second, they were hidden behind trees and greens. He pressed him against a tree and held him there.
“What were you looking at?” He asked with a rough voice. The man still thought they were playing games and relaxed against the tree.
“You. I am hungry.” Sherlock whispered and inhaled. He smelled just fine, and his grip on his shoulders tightened. The man groaned. He seemed to like this a bit too much, and Sherlock obliged.
With a quick move, he turned him and held his wrists on his lower back. His knee went up and between his legs, making him stand on tiptoes.
“How does this feel?” He whispered into his ear. Now, he could sense his arousal.
“Great…” The man rutted against the tree, making Sherlock grin. His free hand moved up and into his hair. He clawed into it and pulled it back to expose his throat. His nose moved over the neck to find the perfect spot.
The man’s blood pulsed. He was aroused, and it made his blood flow faster.
Sherlock’s lips pressed down, and he licked over the spot he wanted to break through. The man shook in his grip but never once thought this wasn’t a game.
While his lips were locked on his neck, his hand reached down and opened his trousers. He moved them down, and they fell over his shoes. He wore no underwear.
He pushed inside hard, and only when Sherlock’s fangs extended and pierced his skin, he groaned. Sherlock’s cold hand moved over his mouth and suppressed any noise he made. He pushed harder and faster, holding him upright.
He tried to fight, but not for long. He was only a human, and Sherlock was too strong for him to break free.
He sucked him dry while pushing into him. Sherlock came the moment he died. This had been just fine. Not a perfect taste, but good enough.
He licked his lips and pulled out of the dead man, restoring himself. He sighed and licked his lips. He felt much better now. He felt warm and relaxed. His senses were still on alert, but no one had bothered to disturb them. No one cared. A clear advantage of living in a big city.
He didn’t bother to hide the body afterwards. There won’t be any clues. He had found out about that only years ago. Everything he might leave at a crime scene, such as blood or skin particles, was going to vanish in seconds after leaving his body.
Whoever or whatever had created vampires had done a bloody good job.
Coming back home, he changed into more comfortable clothes and settled on the sofa. He took his laptop and did some research.
He wasn’t disappointed. As expected, he found several clubs celebrating the dark myths, vampires, and more. They would welcome him with open arms. So would he. He grinned, baring his fangs.
He also once went through all the channels on his TV, and when he was finally done, it was morning again. He decided to go to Barts to check out the people his brother had mentioned. They knew he was coming along and would surely give him a warm welcome.
But before, he needed breakfast. He went downstairs and entered the place with a 221C on the door.
The human in there tried to crawl into the wall. He was scared to death. He was also naked. Sherlock quickly looked him over but didn’t find him too attractive. He settled for just drinking.
He rudely snatched him from the corner and sank his teeth into the man’s neck. He could taste the fear, and it did turn him on. He tasted too good, and he drank too much.
He felt the human die while he still held him up. He belched and dropped him. It had been disappointing and happened too fast. He needed to tell his housekeeper, perhaps she’ll find another for him, he could have for dinner. It was rather convenient to have this locker in the souterrain.
He grinned and cleaned his mouth. Then he knocked at her door and told her. She shook her head but grinned while doing so.
She also promised to take care of everything. Sherlock left with a wonderful, warm feeling in his guts.