John awoke with a start. He kept his eyes closed….

God, what had happened? He tried to recall last nights memories, to make sure…what happened? His memories were fuzzy- he was sure they were only dreams.

He opened his eyes, rolled over and found Sherlock's grey eyes, feeling like they were burning into his soul; Sherlock had slept next to him all night. He couldn't look away.

'Sleep okay?' Sherlock asked, brushing a hand through John's short hair.

'Never better.' John smiled. He gently leaned forward- cautious that, if it had been a dream, he would look like an utter fool- and gently kissed Sherlock, his arm winding round the detectives neck. When he replied, John took Sherlock's full lip between his teeth and sucked. He was satisfied when he heard Sherlock moan.

They kissed again, more eager, Sherlocks cool lips meeting Johns warm ones again and again. Sherlock's tongue begged permission by running across Johns lips. When John parted, he felt the hunger on Sherlock's kiss grow more as his tongue brushed against his own, drawing circles and tasting as if his life depended on it. The feeling was fantastic, and both allowed their eyes to close.

John broke away, when the need to breathe became too much. He looked into his lovers grey-blue eyes, which were mirroring his excitement.

'That was amazing.'

Sherlock smiled triumphantly as they both lay back down on Johns bed. John frowned as he saw sunlight was streaming in through the window.

He rolled over (ignoring Sherlock's protests) and he looked at his alarm- it was ten AM!

'Jesus Christ!'

He threw himself out of bed, surprised when he hit a mass of Sherlock in the way. He almost fell backwards on the bed, but he was gently held upright.

'Sherlock! I'm late, oh, Sarah's gonna kill me. Five hours late, I-'

'Don't worry, John,' said Sherlock, winding his arms around John's middle and placing his head on his shoulder. 'I called in sick for you- you were exhausted. If you don't calm down and relax a bit more, you're going to make yourself ill.'

John felt himself sigh with relief. No work… at least, not today. He didn't bear to think about what would've happened if he'd gone in in his sleep deprived state- what if he'd have given cough syrup to the depressed patient, and the Prozac to the teenager with a cold? It was terribly unprofessional, and not to mention, extremely dangerous.

'Thank you,' he said into Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock smiled as he stroked Johns hair.

…..

John broke away, almost panting. The good doctor was flushed, his eyes bright. Sherlock frowned, but smiled when he realised.

'I am allowed to forget to eat, John, but you can't forget to breathe.'

'I know… it's ridiculous. I just don't breathe… I forget.'

They were laid on the sofa, Sherlock's arm thrown possessively around John.

Looking down at the excited doctor, Sherlock had a thought. There was a question which had been bugging Sherlock all night...

'John, do you have any questions? I mean, it is a lot to take in… you handled it pretty well.'

The doctor twisted, and grinned up at Sherlock.

'Oh, yeah- tonnes.'

'Fire away.'

'Hmm….' John entertained himself by drawing patterns on Sherlock's arm. 'Are you a vampire?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes.

'Obviously.'

'Is Mycroft?'

'Yes. My father also.'

'So you were all bitten at the same time?'

'No. Me and Mycroft were born like this, but my father was bitten and my mother was human.'

Sherlock saw John's eyebrows shoot up. Sherlock smiled and continued to absent mindedly stroke his blond hair.

'Well, a female vampire can't have children with another vampire. Because we don't age, if it was possible the vampire would just remain a foetus forever. My father, however, liked to… experiment. He wondered if it was possible-'

'-And it was-'

'-Yes, I'm getting to that John!' Sherlock said, playfully poking the man in the ribs. 'Be patient! Anyway, Mycroft was soon conceived. The pregnancy was traumatic for my mother, but she survived. Everyone was quite surprised- a normal birth was life threatening then, and a vampire birth... well, I doubt anyone had even thought of it!'

'I was conceived seven years after Mycroft. Bear in mind, this was all an experiment, so there was a chance that the vampire genes- which, I think, are the most dominant- would go different ways with me and my brother. They did-He, for example, aged quite fast. By the time I was born, Mycroft was only seven but looked like he was in his twenties and had the mind to match. I, on the other hand, aged normally. We both sort of stopped aging by our thirties- that is, actual years. That's why he looks a damn sight older than me!'

John giggled. This was all fascinating- John could feel thousands of questions threatening to spill over, for he was intrigued, his imagination sparked.

'Can you fly? Can you sparkle? Can you read minds, can y-'

'John! Calm down,' Sherlock smiled, placing a cool finger to his lips. 'You have all day, the rest of our lives to ask me questions. No, we can't fly, or grow wings. We can't sparkle- where'd you get that idea?- and I can't read minds either. No other special powers, except for heightened senses, immunity, immortality (sort of) and quite a bit of speed.'

'But I swear you can read my mind sometimes-'

Sherlock kissed the top of John's head.

'No, love, I just know how you work.'

John frowned and turned to look at Sherlock.

'What did you just call me?'

The consulting detective looked mystified. He just looked at John, and eventually shook his head, his dark curls bouncing around his face.

'Er, I don't know-'

'You called me… love?'

'Oh!' Sherlock's brow wrinkled. 'Sorry, slipped out- you don't like it?'

'No, it takes a bit of getting used to though. But I like it.' He snuggled into his lovers chest. 'Okay… so you're immortal?'

'Yes. To a certain extent- Mycroft's the better one at this vampire trivia, ask him next time he's over- but I think the eldest vampires are quite a few millennia old. Mycroft and I are only toddlers next to them- but we can stand things that usually humans would be instantly killed by. For example, we can do things like jump off cliffs, land on our heads and still be perfectly fine. I think it's things like extreme heat- and I mean extreme, like if we were in the centre of a powerful atomic bomb or something. Oh, and if we loose a limb, we can't reattach it or grow another. If we have our heads cut off… well, you get it.'

'Elder vampires?'

'The elders are the eldest- and therefore, most powerful- vampires in the world. And they're in charge of the world- not just ours, I mean the human world too. They're usually the masterminds behind the police services and they keep our worlds separate as best they can. You don't mess with them, and I don't think they're all vampires-I think you've got a few witches in there, some of them are most definitely old souls.'

'Is that what I am?'

Sherlock tilted John's head with his hands and left a lingering kiss on his lips. John blushed and smiled at Sherlock through his lashes.

'Yes. Your body is still new, but your soul is very old, wise and powerful. An old soul.'

John pondered this for a moment.

'So can people be bitten then? And there's not just vampires, but witches too?'

'Yes. I've never heard of any other vampire like me or Mycroft. There are witches and werewolves- a werewolf is what you saw last night. The man, one of Moriarty's cronies, I mean, when you walked in. And witches… I've only met a few, but if they study well then they can use spells to their advantage. I think Anthea is one. Not sure though- Mycroft's never said, and Anthea hasn't ever preformed anything in front of me.'

'Wow. That's incredible. So are all werewolves bad? I mean, you don't seem to get on well-'

Sherlock laughed, the sound rumbling in his chest. He started stroking the back of John's neck, his arms and his back- It tickled and made goose-bumps rise; John squirmed happily.

'No, not all of them are bad! Look at Greg, he's a werewolf and we get along fine-'

'Gregory Lestrade is a wolf?'

Sherlock frowned, looking at his lovers mouth which had, once again, formed the 'O' that made Sherlock's heart flutter (metaphorically speaking). Sherlock chuckled once again.

'Yes, John, Greg is a werewolf. Remember what I said last night?'

'Yes-'everything you know probably isn't what it first appears to be. You're living in a society full of vampires, witches and werewolves'… correct?'

'Good, John. It's true, couldn't you see? I'll show you the differences after the full moon next time we're down the yard- you can see he's more irritable than usual and he looks awful. Is that all?'

'I think so.' John had a thought that made a frown cloud his face; he looked at Sherlock, his bright blue eyes suddenly full of worry. 'Wait… no.'

'John, what is it?' Sherlock asked with some urgency, his grey eyes trying to find something wrong with the man next to him. 'Are you okay?'

'No… I'm fine. But what about this-' he gestured to Sherlock. 'Us? I mean… what's going on? What am I?'

Sherlocks frown deepened.

'John, I'm not very good with words… I don't really understand. You're an old soul-'

John sighed.

'No, Sherlock, not like that. I mean, what do you feel for me? What am I to you?'

The detective still looked confused.

'Okay, I'll try and find the words- can you say yes or no?' The good doctor whispered, looking deep into Sherlocks eyes. 'Please?'

'O…kay?'

'Is what you feel for me… I don't know… Desire?'

Sherlock pondered his for a moment. 'Sort of. Go on.'

'Lust?'

'Defiantly.'

John was a little hurt by this. He shifted so that his worried face was in Sherlock's view.

'So I am an experiment?'

Sherlock looked shocked at this, and then frowned.

'Yes.' John looked down, despondent. Sherlock gently cupped Johns chin so that he would look up at the taller man. 'You are the experiment I want to conduct for the rest of my life. Forever.'

John thought about that for a moment, then beamed. With a small contented sigh, he rested his head back on Sherlock's chest and snuggled closer.

'I love you, Sherlock.'

'I love you too John.'

The kiss that they next shared was the sweetest one yet. Stroking John's hair, Sherlock gently recited:

'Shall I compare thee to a Summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate:

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And Summer's lease hath all too short a date:

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And oft' is his gold complexion dimm'd;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimm'd:

But thy eternal Summer shall not fade

Nor lose possession of that fair thou owest;

Nor shall Death brag thou wanderest in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou growest:

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.'

He recited, over and over until John fell asleep. Sherlock still murmured it into John's ear, a long time after he had gently wandered off into the land of dreams.

You aren't a summers day, John. You are my life, me. You woke me up then, and you are waking the feelings that I thought I had destroyed; love, desire, passion… all of these are for you. My heart is yours. My one sole purpose is to keep you save… I will do anything for you, My Love. Anything you ask, anything you need... I will always be here for you, until you need me no longer.

Sherlock kissed his lovers head and he too allowed himself to gently slip between the folds of reality and dreams. He was completely unaware of the text Mycroft had just sent- but the threat would still be there, waiting, until one of them woke.