Again. Not mine. Therefore, no suing.

And I'm sorry for the late addition but I got a bit distracted with other plots….

And yes that means I will have other stories up soon.

Chapter 2

Sherlock sighed, bringing his knees up to his chest as he rested his head on them.

"So bored," he said, looking across table to where John was seated working on his most current blog entry.

John glanced up at him, then back down to the laptop sitting on the table. "Call Lestrade. See if he has anything for you." At least he wasn't bored enough to start shooting the wall again.

Sherlock frowned and sent a quick text.

Going nuts here. About to start terrorizing innocents. Give me something to do.

-SH

John looked at him again. "I didn't say to threaten him," he told the dark haired man.

Sherlock feigned innocence. "I didn't."

John looked at his phone as it beeped at him.

Keep him there until I get there.

-GL

Sherlock growled as John passed the phone to him, and then huffed. "I wasn't really going to," he muttered.

John rolled his eyes.

Geoff sighed as he got out of the cab in front of 221b, squinting in the brightness of the streetlights. He glanced at his watch. 9:30pm. He turned at the sound of another car pulling up behind him, his eyes widening a as a tall man got out of the car.

"Mycroft Holmes," he breathed. Beautiful. He thought to himself.

Mycroft looked at him closely. "Detective Inspector Geoff Lestrade. Pleasure meeting you here." He sounded sincere. It also sounded a bit like a question.

"Your brother." Came the response.

Mycroft nodded knowingly. "Mm. Yes, he can be a bit of a handful."

Geoff snorted. "You have no idea how true that is right now."

Mycroft looked at him oddly but said nothing.

Sherlock could smell someone at the door so he leapt to his feet before the knock, opening it. He frowned, yanked Geoff in and slammed it shut in his brother's startled face.

Leaning his head against it he took deep breaths, trying get his eyes to go back to normal. God the smell…so good…

"Sherlock?" John asked from the stairs.

Geoff looked up at him and sighed. "Mycroft is here."

"Ah." With that John sent a quick look at Sherlock's face, more specifically his eyes, and told him to wait in the kitchen.
Sherlock nodded and disappeared up the stairs.

John opened the door with an apologetic smile, Mycroft waving it off. "I know what he's like no need to apologize for him."

"Stop terrorizing my flat mate and tell me what you came here for Mycroft," Sherlock yelled from the kitchen, sounding more peevish than usual.

"Come on up, then," John invited, waving the taller man past him.

Mycroft sat himself in John's chair, much to Sherlock's annoyance, and tried to catch his brother's eyes, which were focused intently on the table.

Sherlock was trying so hard to not look at his older brother; he knew his eyes were still red so he kept them locked on the table with a scowl on his face.

Mycroft looked at the other two men in the flat, their faces telling him that they knew what was wrong but weren't going to say anything until Sherlock did. "Alright, Sherlock. What's going on?"

Sherlock looked up, and then back down as quickly as he could but he wasn't fast enough. Mycroft was on his feet and had the blade that hid in his umbrella handle pointed at Sherlock's throat.

"Explain." Mycroft demanded, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

Sherlock slowly stood and lifted his head, his eyes narrowed and burning with anger.

"Sherlock, calm down," John said, coming up to wrap his arms around the angry man. Before he could Sherlock was behind Mycroft, his long canines too close to the skin of his brother's neck, strong arms wrapped around the other mans torso like iron bands. The umbrella handle dropped to the floor in Mycroft's surprise.

"What do you want to know, Mycroft?" He whispered in the ear next to his mouth. "You want to know how lax your security has gotten? How they missed your little brother getting attacked in an alley by some kind of creature?"

Mycroft looked at Lestrade, his eyes slightly wider than usual but his face calm. "You won't hurt me Sherlock." He tilted his head as if to prove that point. "You won't hurt your only brother."

Sherlock closed his eyes and nuzzled into the neck offered to him, inhaling deeply. "Don't be so sure dear brother. You smell so good; I might not be able to help myself."

**
Oh, god. He's going to kill him. Was the only thought running through Geoff's mind. "Sherlock!" He said sharply, drawing the other man's attention to him. Lestrade pulled himself to his full height and drew his gun. Aiming at the vampire's forehead he spoke, voice devoid of all emotion, "Back off, Sherlock, or I will shoot you." He paused, adjusting his aim, then said more quietly, "Silver rounds, you will heal human slow."

Sherlock growled deep in his chest, his arms tightening painfully around the human locked in them. He glared at the grey haired man with the gun, knowing it wouldn't kill him but it would probably hurt for a bit, considering the other man was now pointing at his shoulder.

"Sherlock," came the tentative voice from beside the couch where he had been sitting. Sherlock's eyes flashed to John's own, seeing the beginning of fear growing in them. Seeing that was enough to bring him out of the bloodlust, enough to release the man in his arms and stagger away, breathing harshly.

"Oh, god.." he moaned quietly, curling into himself where he had fallen to the floor.

Geoff's heart almost stopped when Sherlock growled at him, no human emotion left in that beautiful face, only an animal out for blood.

When Sherlock threw himself back away from Mycroft, Geoff let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding and walked to the older Holmes brother. Laying a hand on the man's arm, he asked, "You alright?" Mycroft looked dazed for a moment before his eyes focused and cleared. He looked at Lestrade blankly.

"Did he break skin?" Geoff clarified, giving the man's neck a once-over. "Are you bleeding?"

Mycroft shook his head, leaning down to pick up his blade from where it had fallen. "No."

Geoff holstered his gun and brought his hands up to hold Mycroft face, looking into his eyes and seeing the shock and fear that was hidden there. Mycroft froze, eyes going wide.

John watched all this with surprise on his features, remembering now that the vampire Geoff had fallen in love with had in fact been male. Huh…

Lestrade was staring at the man in front of him in something like shock, never before realizing how much this man looked like his vampire lover had. There were differences though. A slight difference in height, Mycroft had a slightly leaner build, his eyes were different.

A choked sob broke the spell that had captured the two men as Sherlock shuddered on the floor, John leaning over him, trying to offer comfort.

Mycroft looked back at Lestrade, a question burning in his blue eyes.

"He's a vampire," Geoff told him quietly. "He shut the door in your face because he didn't think he could control himself around you." He paused. "I guess he was right."

Mycroft looked back down at the broken man on the floor and sighed.

"Sherlock?" He asked kneeling down next to his brother. " Sherlock, I'm fine. You didn't hurt me."

Sherlock drew his arms around himself tighter and scooted as far as he could to the wall, his body rocking slowly, his crimson eyes wild.

"I could have," came the muffled response.

"You didn't."

Sherlock squeezed his eyes closed tightly and tried to breath.

"Sherlock, look at me," Mycroft demanded, sitting on his feet in front of the smaller man.

Sherlock shook his head frantically. "Can't."

Mycroft sighed. "Please."

Sherlock's eyes popped open, the red draining from them in shock. Mycroft never asked. Never said please. At least not to him.

Mycroft looked at him closely. "You didn't hurt me Sherlock," he told him softly.

Sherlock choked back another sob and flung himself at his brother, strong arms wrapping around Mycroft's chest, his own chest heaving in wracking sobs. Mycroft could only make out a couple words of what Sherlock was muttering. "Sorry, sorry, so sorry." Over and over. He wrapped his arms around his little brother and held on tight, riding out the storm.

Sherlock was curled up on John's lap, well, as much as he could be with their height differences.

Mycroft and Lestrade were avoiding each other's eyes as much as they could, both still mildly embarrassed about that moment earlier.

Sherlock frowned suddenly, lifting his head and looking at his brother curiously. "Why did you come here, Mycroft?"

Mycroft started slightly. He had forgotten. "Because they lost you."

They all knew who he meant except Lestrade, who looked at John for an explanation.

"Mycroft has both myself and Sherlock under surveillance." John explained quickly.

Lestrade nodded sagely. Of course he had them watched, as often as Sherlock liked to run off on his own and not tell anyone where he was going. He frowned as he thought of something. Sherlock looked at him quickly, giving his head a small shake to keep Geoff quiet. Lestrade sighed, but nodded.

If you don't hunt this will happen when you have no one to stop you. He sent the thought out at Sherlock, hoping he would catch it, the slight glazing of the other mans eyes confirming success. Next time it might happen when it's just you and John. He added trying to get the point across.

Sherlock looked panicked for a moment, turning pleading eyes on Lestrade. Help me! Those eyes shouted at him.

Lestrade sighed again, standing up. "Sherlock I need to speak to you, could you come for a walk with me?"

Sherlock rose at once. "Of course."

Before John could protest, Sherlock grabbed Geoff's arm and leapt out the window. Mycroft was on his feet and to the open window before John had registered what had happened.

John's phone beeped.

Tell him I'm fine, Sherlock is just wound up at the moment. I'm taking him out to f-

The text cut off mid word. F? Mycroft read over his shoulder. "Feed."

John looked up at him in confusion. "Feed?"

"From what I know of vampires, they cannot survive on human food. Most can't even tolerate it. He has to have blood John. He won't survive without it." Mycroft explained softly.

"Oh," John looked down at his phone again. "Right."

Mycroft had nearly had a heart attack when Sherlock drug Geoff out the window. He had sighed in relief when John had received the text.

He had no idea why he was having these feelings for that man. He knew what they were of course but he had always ignored them, which seemed impossible this time.

When Geoff had held his face earlier he had almost leaned in and brushed their mouths together. He had already been leaning forward when his brother had made that broken sound.

What in the world is happening to me?

**
Sherlock raced through the alleyways, not sure where he was going, just following Lestrade's unspoken directions.

They seemed to be heading towards a homeless area. The homeless junkies.

"Here is fine," Lestrade gasped as he glanced around. He had given up trying to get Sherlock to slow down and just held on for dear life. God how he hated when they Ran like that.

"You want me to feed on one of these people?" Sherlock asked, eyebrow raised.

Geoff nodded. "They are all junkies Sherlock. They barely remember their own names, they won't remember your eyes or your teeth."

He had a point.

"Stay here then," Sherlock told him, then was gone.

Sherlock flitted through the sleeping men and women around him, following his nose to the wonderful smell just on the other side of this trash bin. He slowed to a stop then peeked around the corner at the sleeping man sitting there. Sherlock was very glad the John wasn't with him. He had no control of his actions as he got down to his knees and lifted the man slowly, tilting his head to the side, careful not to wake him.

As his teeth sank into the man's flesh he moaned at the taste. So much better than the bags Lestrade had left for him.

Geoff had told him that he couldn't turn someone into a vampire with just a bite, that he had to give them blood in return. For that he was grateful. Of course, he did wish Geoff would have told him that the day he was turned or shortly after, that way he wouldn't have had to be so careful with John. There had been a scare not more than two weeks ago when Sherlock had almost gone too far.

They had been fooling around in the sitting room, John in his lap as they kissed, their hands running over their still clothed bodies. John had tipped his head back as he rocked his hips, moaning loudly.

Sherlock had lost focus for a second, red bleeding into his eyes and his teeth sharpening, he had leaned up, licking John's throat, nipping softly, his mouth trailing down to where neck met shoulder, kissing through the fabric of John's heavy shirt.

John had slid his hands into Sherlock's hair. "Please, Sherlock," he had moaned.

Sherlock had bitten down, almost through John's shirt, the heavy material enough to stop him from breaking skin but not enough to stop the teeth marks in his lover's shoulder.

John still rubbed his neck there sometimes, without thought, like he was rubbing an old wound. It still made Sherlock cringe in shame.

He brought himself back to the present, to the body he had slid to rest against the wall gently, as if to thank him for his generosity.

Lestrade stood awkwardly in the dark, straining his ears for any sign of Sherlock's return. Hearing footsteps behind him he turned, his eyes narrowing at Sherlock's hunched shoulders and distant gaze.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly.

Sherlock looked up at him slowly, sadness and self-loathing in his gaze.

"Sherlock?"

"I almost went too far with him, Geoff," was the soft reply. Sherlock looked away and began to explain.

"Just remember Sherlock, it won't hurt him. Just make sure he doesn't get any of your blood in his mouth and your fine." Lestrade told him dismissively.

Sherlock looked at him sideways. "Speaking from experience?"

Geoff blushed. "Yes," he muttered, looking away.

Sherlock chuckled, as he opened the door to his flat.

"Where the hell where you two?" Came the shouts from the two men they had left behind. Both Sherlock and Lestrade halted, looking at their feet.

"I wasn't going to eat him if that's what you were worried about," Sherlock muttered.

"Um," Geoff started.

"Go home, Geoff," Sherlock told him, looking at Mycroft carefully. Sherlock's eyes widened suddenly and he looked at Lestrade, head tilted to the side in thought, his eyes weeping up and down the man's form. "I see what you mean, brother," he said more to himself then to the man coming down the stairs. Mycroft froze mid-step, losing his balance. Before he had a chance to fall, Geoff was there, an arm wrapped around the taller man's waist.

"You alright, Mr. Holmes?"

"Mycroft," he responded automatically, turning his head to look at the detective, their noses almost brushing they were so close.

Sherlock cleared his throat loudly. Lestrade jumped back like he had been shot, pulling Mycroft to his feet then releasing him quickly. "Sorry," he said, looking anywhere but at Sherlock or his brother.

John and Sherlock shared a smile, both knowing that it wouldn't be long before those two got together.

Geoff was blushing as he led Mycroft out to his car, the other man still unsteady from his near fall.

"Thank you, Geoff," Mycroft said quietly, stopping in front of his door as he turned to face the detective.

"Anytime," Geoff replied just as soft. He gave into the urge to raise his hand and place it on Mycroft's cheek gently. He tilted the taller man's face up a bit, looking into his eyes, seeing the want that was reflected in his own. He leaned forward and grazed his lips against Mycroft's, the other man letting out a soft sound of surprise, before his eyes slid shut and he leaned into Geoff slightly, bringing his hands up to cup his face as he deepened the kiss.

"Sir."

Mycroft broke away, turning to look at Anthea, the woman staring at him with a knowing smile on her face, her Blackberry held forgotten in her hand for once. "We need to be going, Sir."

"Right," he replied, turning back to the flustered detective.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" Mycroft cut him off with another gentle kiss as he slid a card into the man's coat pocket.

"You have my direct number, Geoff. Call me." With that he got into the car leaving Geoff standing on the curb, his face bright red but holding a wide smile.

Sherlock smiled as Geoff practically shouted his happiness out loud as he walked back into the flat, having forgotten that he was supposed to be leaving.

"So?" John prompted, seeing the huge smile on the man's face.

"I kissed him," Lestrade said, looking up. "And he kissed me back."

John grinned. "Good."

Sherlock groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Great. Just what this city needs. A happy Mycroft."

Both John and Lestrade laughed.

Geoff unlocked his front door, went in and shut it behind, not bothering to turn the lights on. He hung his coat up and tossed his keys into the candy dish on the kitchen table.

When he did turn the lights on he went into the living room to watch the telly for a bit before he headed to bed.

He froze in the living room doorway, eyes widening as he took in the man sitting in his chair.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" He paused. "And how did you get in?"

Sherlock smirked at him, tilting his head to the side.

Lestrade sighed, "You're right. I don't want to know."

"As for what I'm doing here, I've come to ask you about your intentions for my dear brother."

Geoff raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"He's never been with anyone, Geoff." Sherlock told him seriously. "He doesn't know what to do or how to act."

"Really?" Geoff asked in shock. Surely a man like that had at least had offers.

"Yes he has but he has never taken any of them."

Geoff frowned. "I really wish you wouldn't do that.

"Sorry," was the insincere response.

"Why is it only me that you are able to read so easy? Why can't it be John?" Geoff asked, throwing his hands in the air and flopping onto his couch.

"As for my intentions toward your brother? I have none. Whatever he wants to happen will happen. It's up to him," Lestrade told him honestly.

"Yet you are the one that kissed him?" Sherlock asked pointedly.

Lestrade grinned. "Of course. How else was he going to know I was interested? He seemed to be just as oblivious as you when it comes to people's feelings."

Sherlock glared at him. "How was I oblivious? And to whose feelings?"

"You were oblivious to the fact that the good doctor you cared so deeply about felt the same way. The only difference being he hadn't yet realized said feelings."

Mycroft sat at his desk completely lost in thought, even as Anthea came to tell him she was going home for the night, he only waved her off, not saying anything. He was focused on what had happened that day. Not just Geoff, but what had happened to his brother as well.

"My brother is a vampire," he stated to the empty room, letting the words roll around on his tongue.

He smirked to himself. "And I'm lusting after his unofficial boss."

2 months later

Sherlock and Mycroft had grown closer in the past two months, spending their time talking rather than arguing. Sherlock told him what all he had learned about being a vampire and Mycroft told him what he was currently scheming.

Mycroft also told him about the developments between himself and DI Lestrade. Things were progressing slowly, their relationship mostly consisting of them talking, taking walks, or just sitting in for the night kissing and cuddling on Geoff's couch.

Sherlock instructed his brother to not tell him any details and in return he would do the same kindness.

They had both agreed enthusiastically.

One evening, Geoff was walking Mycroft to his car after a quick dinner at Angelo's. Geoff had told the elder Holmes he wouldn't be available for the rest of the night, that he had a case he had to work through.

Mycroft sighed as they waited for a traffic light to turn green, it did and they kept walking. He was thinking about how Geoff would feel if asked to move in with him. Wondered how to tell the other man that he had grown to love him.

He was so absorbed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the blaring horns behind him, didn't hear Geoff yell, and didn't see the absolute horror on his face as a car ran the red light, careening through traffic. Didn't even feel it hit him, didn't feel himself hit the ground, couldn't see all the blood flowing from his nose and mouth, and didn't hear the crack of his bones as they shattered. All he felt was numbness. All he saw was darkness.
**

Sherlock's phone was ringing but he didn't want to get out of bed. He was perfectly happy staying wrapped around John's sleeping form, his fingers running over the tattoo covering his back.

When the ringing was finally enough to wake John, he sighed and rolled out of the bed.

"Hello?" he said angrily as he flipped the phone open, not bothering to look at the ID.

"Sherlock? Sherlock he's hurt, I don't think he'll make it to a hospital I need you to come help me."

It was Lestrade, he sounded completely lost, like he didn't have any idea what to do or where to go.

"Who's hurt Geoff? Where are you?"

"We're just outside Angelo's," Geoff told him, the sound if his panic fading a bit. But then it was back as he said the next words. "It's Mycroft."

Sherlock dropped the phone and disappeared.

No more than 2 minutes had passed before Sherlock was beside him, a hand on his shoulder, then he was at Mycroft's side, turning his face, running his hands over his arms and down his legs, already knowing what had happened. Then Sherlock was lifting him into his strong arms, despite Geoff's yells to leave him be.

Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, nostrils flaring at the scent of all the blood on his brother. His tongue flicked out grabbing a drop, then his eyes shot open and he grabbed Geoff's arms, then PUSHED with his legs and they were flying through the streets.

The next time Geoff dared to open his eyes, Sherlock had his forehead pressed to his brothers, his eyes tightly closed.

Mycroft's eyelids were fluttering, like he was dreaming, but Lestrade knew better. Sherlock was talking to him. It was an ability very few vampires ever gained. They had found it out by accident at a crime scene when Sherlock was picturing some not so nice things to do to John when Geoff had yelled at them to get a room.

"Well?" He asked as Sherlock stepped back, his eyes opening slowly.

He shook his head and his eyes cleared. "If John says he cannot be saved, he will let me Turn him."

Then he was gone again, leaving Geoff alone with the dying man.

"Sherlock? What happened to Mycroft? Is he okay?" John asked as soon as his lover came back in the window.

"He was hit by a car. He's dying. I need you." Sherlock responded in monotone.

John was glad he had gotten dressed when Sherlock left earlier. He didn't think he would have had time now as the vampire grabbed his arm, swung him around to his back and told him to hold on tight.

Geoff Lestrade had only been this scared once in his life. It had been when the council had started hunting his vampire lover.

He jumped to his feet as John stumbled into the room, eyes wide from the run here. The shorter man walked shakily to Mycroft's side, shoulders already hunching over. He didn't even have to touch him to know there was nothing that could be done.

John turned back to Lestrade and pulled the man into a hug. "I'm sorry," he whispered in his ear, the grey haired man breaking down finally, letting the tears flow freely.

Sherlock stood in the doorway silently, staring at his dying brother, his eyes unfocused.

Can you still hear me brother? He asked silently.

Yes Sherlock. I can hear you. Was the faint response. Who is crying Sherlock? What happened?

Sherlock felt the tears begin to sting his eyes as he moved closer to his brother, wiping the blood away from his face gently.

Geoff is crying for you. You were hit by a car.

Am I going to be okay?

Sherlock choked back a sob and brought his forehead to rest against his brothers again. No.

Oh. Mycroft's 'voice' was getting fainter.

There is one option left Mycroft. I could Turn you. Make you like me. A vampire.

Will I be able to stay with him?

Of course, dear brother. Of course. Sherlock smiled gently eyes still closed.

Then do it Sherlock.

Geoff was watching Sherlock talk to his brother and noticed the small smile that graced his mouth.

"What did he say Sherlock?" he asked through his tears.

Sherlock turned to him, his eyes bleeding to red as he spoke. "He has agreed to be Turned on one condition."

"What? Anything, whatever he wants I will get for him." Lestrade replied immediately.

Sherlock smiled. "He wants you to stay with him."

Geoff's eyes went wide. "he does?" Sherlock nodded.

Geoff smiled widely. "Done."

"John? Do you want to step out for this?" Geoff asked quietly as Sherlock walked to the head of the table Mycroft was laid out on.

John shook his head. "No. I want to see this. I want to know how it's done."

"It's not very pretty, I can tell you that," Geoff told him, remembering the blood and screams from when he found Sherlock.

"I know."

Geoff shrugged, turning back to Sherlock and his brother.

"Suit yourself."

John really wanted to leave right then but he didn't want Sherlock to be left without support.

He watched as the lanky man leaned down, turning his brother's head to the side, exposing his neck. Watched as Sherlock opened his mouth wide, fangs shining in the light from the dining room lamp.

Watched as those fangs sank into Mycroft's neck like a hot knife through butter, the unconscious man flinching even in his sleep.

Geoff stepped forward to grab his boyfriend's hand but was stopped by a low growl and a pair of deep red eyes glaring at him. He held his hands up in surrender, walking back to stand once again with John.

Mycroft was getting more and more pale by the second, his head falling to the side further as he went completely limp.

"Sherlock," Geoff said bringing that crimson gaze to himself once again. "Sherlock, you're killing him. Stop."

Sherlock growled again, his hands clenching around his brother's shoulders.

"Sherlock?" John queried, those eyes focusing on him. Slowly that gaze started to gain emotion. Slowly, Sherlock pulled back, Mycroft's blood dripping down his chin.

Quickly his pulled his sleeve up and bit into his wrist, bringing it to Mycroft's mouth and rubbing the pale man's throat, forcing him to swallow.

Gradually, Mycroft's hands came up to hold his wrist in place; his eyes shut tightly, his throat working fast.

Sherlock gasped as his brother took control, his head falling back at the totally inappropriate feelings traveling up his arm. He moaned low in his throat, wondering why it felt so good.

"Enough," he rasped. "Enough, Mycroft." He carefully tugged his wrist away.

His brother fell back to the table, back arching, hands clenched on the edges. Sherlock could hear his bones snapping back into place. At least he hadn't had any injuries when he was turned. This must be even more painful.
Sherlock turned to look at his lover and his friend, both still standing by the door. John looked…well to be honest, he looked a bit aroused, a slow flush rolling up his neck to grace his cheeks, his breathing shallow, hands clenched at his sides.

Geoff shuddered as Mycroft thrashed around on the table, his bones snapping into place loudly. He took two steps toward Mycroft, halfway through his third when Sherlock grabbed his arm, yanking him away. "You know better than that," the taller man said quietly. "Aren't you the one that had me in a cell, strapped to a table when I woke up?"

John turned his head sharply. "What?"

"Speaking of which," Sherlock ignored his lover. "How long did it take? For me to wake up I mean."

Geoff frowned as he thought about it. "Um, maybe 6 hours tops? It will probably take less for him because you took more blood than she did."

"She?" John practically shouted.

Sherlock and Geoff looked at him as if they had forgotten he was even there.

Sherlock tilted his head to the side, "Did we not tell him about that?"

Geoff shook his head. "No, I don't think we did."

"No you bloody well did not!" John looked furious, his face red and his breathing labored.

"Later, love." Sherlock told him, turning to look at his brother closely.

"Geoff, go get some blood please." He pushed John out the door quickly. "Out. Now."

"What? Why?" John asked, confused.

"He's waking up already." Sherlock replied, his voice dropping to a growl as his brothers eyes opened, the deep red gaze locked on John's neck.

Geoff grabbed two bags of blood and ran as fast as he could back to the living room, sliding to a stop at the low growl coming from Sherlock. Geoff followed his eyes and gasped as he saw Mycroft sitting up already, his eyes the same red as Sherlock's own.

Sherlock had pushed John behind him protectively, his arms blocking Geoff from walking any further into the room.

"Drop the blood and back out slowly," Sherlock told them quietly, not taking his eyes off his brother.

Geoff was staring at Mycroft, his thoughts whirling 'round his head too fast to comprehend. So beautiful. Geoff thought distractedly.

Mycroft looked at him, those crimson eyes sharp and alert, but with no hint of human emotion in them.

Sherlock snapped his teeth at his brother, bringing the newborn's attention back to where it should be, and snarled, "Mine," referring of course to the man held behind him.

Mycroft narrowed his eyes dangerously, eyes flicking to Geoff, then back to Sherlock quickly. Geoff's eyes widened and he waved his hands frantically.

"No, no, no! Not me! I'm not his!" He realized his mistake too late as Mycroft lunged too fast for him to see.

Sherlock shoved the two men out the door and slammed into his brother, stopping him from going after the humans. "Mycroft, listen to me! Mycroft!"

Mycroft stilled his movements for a moment, recognition slowly filling his eyes. "Sherlock?"

Sherlock dropped his head to his brother's shoulder in relief. "Yes, Mycroft. It's me."

Sherlock led his brother to sit back on the table, stooping to grab a bag of blood on his way. "Here."

Mycroft took the bag slowly, glancing up at Sherlock.

Sherlock smiled. "He had it here for me if I ever needed it again."

Mycroft nodded his understanding, un screwing the cap and drinking the blood greedily.

When it was gone, Mycroft cleared his throat and leaned to look around Sherlock at the door where the two humans were standing, well, lurking would be more accurate a word.

Geoff didn't look the slightest bit embarrassed to be caught and walked forward into the room, stopping in front of the new vampire. "You alright, 'Croft?" he asked softly.

Sherlock raised a brow at the nickname but didn't say anything.

Mycroft ducked his head a bit but nodded, "I'm okay now." He reached a hand out to Geoff, his fingertips grazing over his cheek slowly. "I'm so sorry. I couldn't control it. I tried but..." his voice trailed off as Geoff took a step back, walking around the table, wrapping his arms around Mycroft and resting his chin on the other man's shoulder.

"I know, love." He murmured, not realizing the endearment had slipped out.

Sherlock did though, his eyes widening slightly, before he smiled gently.

John and Sherlock left the two alone after the taller man had made sure that Mycroft had full control.

"I'll be outside," he said, nodding to them in farewell.

Mycroft watched them leave and close the door behind themselves. He turned to Geoff, eyes downcast and fearful.

Geoff frowned. "What's wrong, love?" he asked softly, again missing it.

Mycroft didn't this time though, his eyes opening in shock as his mouth fell open. "Love?" he asked, not sure he had heard right.

Geoff looked confused. "What?"

Mycroft looked at him closely. "You called me love."

Lestrade looked sheepish, eyes going to the floor as a blush rose to his cheeks. "Yeah, I guess I did. I'm sorry, I –"

Mycroft shook his head quickly, stopping the man before he could apologize again. "No, it's fine. Really, it is." He took Geoff's hand in his and spoke to it, not wanting to chicken out this time. "That's was what distracted me earlier. When the car came." Geoff's grip tightened. "I was trying to figure out how to tell you… that I love you."

Geoff's eyes were wide when he looked up, his mouth open in shock. "You…you do?" he stuttered.

Mycroft nodded slowly, embarrassed, looking back down at his hands, missing the brilliant smile that lit the detective's face.

He made a muffled sound of surprise when Geoff grabbed his face in his hands and kissed him soundly.

"I love you too, Mycroft Holmes."

After a few hours of talking and drinking tea, John and Sherlock bade farewell to the two men on the couch and headed off for their flat.

Sherlock could see the glances John kept sending his way; they were kind of hard to miss. So he was prepared when they got to the flat and he was pinned against the door, his mouth attacked and lips forced open. His eyes fell shut as he wrapped his arms around John's shoulders.

"Sherlock?" John said, pulling away slightly.

Sherlock hummed into the tanned neck of his lover.

"Make love to me?" was the almost silent question.

Sherlock froze, his eyes wide. The whole time they had been together John had always been the one on top. Sherlock was afraid to try, afraid he would lose control, afraid he would hurt him.

"I…" he didn't know what to say. He wanted to try, god did he want to try, but he wasn't sure.

"You won't hurt me Sherlock." John told him, kissing him softly as he started to drag the taller man up the stairs to their now shared bedroom, slowly working the buttons on Sherlock's shirt open with one hand while the other worked on his belt. His knees hit the edge of the bed and he let himself fall, taking Sherlock with him, the other man catching himself with his hands as John had known he would.

Sherlock's body was trembling slightly as he held himself up and John frowned. Well that's no good. He thought to himself, knowing the other man was too distracted to read him. Yes he had tested it.

John pulled the pocket knife he had started carrying with him out, flipped it open as quietly as he could and slid the edge along his neck slowly, the sharp edge breaking the skin easily. Sherlock shuddered above him and dropped his weight suddenly, his mouth finding the cut on the shorter man's neck easily, tongue lapping at it like a kitten going for milk.

John moaned loudly, tilted his head back to allow easier access, his neck stretched taunt. Sherlock's hand wrapped around the back of his neck gently, holding him close as he started to suck.

"Sherlock.." John gasped, his hands tugging on the vampire's curly hair. "Please.."

"What do you want me to do John?" came the husky voice from his neck.

"Bite me." Sherlock groaned and dropped his forehead down to the sheets, his head slowly shaking back and forth. "I can't John, you saw what happened with Mycroft, I almost killed him."

"Sherlock, look at me." John demanded, hands cupping the other man's face. "You didn't. You know why?" Sherlock shook his head no. "Because you listened to me. You stopped when I asked you too."

Sherlock thought back and realized he was right. He had stopped when John spoke his name. he had always stopped when John told him to. All but once. The first time his brother had come to visit.

"Do you trust me that much, John?"

"Of course I do, Sherlock." Was the easy reply as he was pulled down for a deep kiss.

"One rule, John."

"Hmm?" John looked at him, pleased he was finally getting his way.

"Not during sex. My control is shaky enough without my teeth in your beautiful neck."

Sherlock kissed his way along John's cheekbone, to his ear, nipping on the lobe for a moment before continuing on. He paused with his breath ghosting over John's jugular. "Are you sure about this john?" he asked one last time.

"Just do it Sherlock!"

Sherlock smiled, licking and nipping the soft skin under John's chin, his eyes bleeding to red.

John could feel Sherlock's teeth getting longer as the man nipped his neck sharply, not drawing blood, not yet. He moaned, "Please, Sherlock."

He gasped when the vampire struck, teeth sinking into his neck easily, strong mouth working around his skin. His breath escaped in a long moan, his fingers massaging Sherlock's skull. "Oh, god… so good Sherlock."

Sherlock was in Heaven if there was such a place for something like him. The rich taste of John's blood coating his tongue and sliding down his throat. He growled when he felt hands in his hair, fingers kneading his scalp as John tilted his head back further.

He didn't know how long he drank, but when the hands in his hair started tugging harder he pulled back, lapping up the blood that had leaked out of the sides of his mouth gently.

John pulled him up for a deep kiss, not caring if Sherlock's fangs nicked his lips, not caring that he was tasting his own blood in his lover's mouth.

John broke the kiss trying to relearn how to breathe as Sherlock rid him of his remaining clothes, somehow stripping himself in the process.

Sherlock was trailing kisses and nips along his collarbones when John finally caught his breath.

"Ready now, John?" Sherlock asked silkily, his voice sending shivers sown John's spine.

"Oh god yes." They both smiled, remembering the first time John had said that to him.

Sherlock smiled, coating his fingers in the lube he had grabbed from the end table. He slid a finger slowly into the smaller man, watching as John shuddered, his legs falling further open.

He started thrusting his finger in and out slowly, working John loose. When he felt the other man was ready he slid a second finger in, then a third, John taking all of them without complaint.

Done this before have you? Sherlock asked his lover silently.

John nodded. Not for a couple years though.

Good. Sherlock's voice had a slight growl to it even in his head.

Sherlock removed his fingers when John started thrusting back on them; he coated his cock with lube and lined himself up with John's entrance.

"Ready, love?" John nodded quickly, wrapping his legs around Sherlock's hips.

Sherlock groaned deep in his throat as he slowly slid into John's body. "Absolute bliss," he murmured.

"Fuck… oh god Sherlock…" John's fingernails dug into his shoulders hard, the little crescents left behind slowly filling with blood. He threw his head back and groaned, long and loud, as Sherlock stilled inside him.

John focused on slowing his breathing as much as he could, trying to relax. It had been years since the last time he'd done this. Sherlock was gently kissing his neck and shoulders, comforting, also trying to take his mind off how good John felt.

To Sherlock it seemed like it took years for John to relax, but it did happen, eventually. "Move, Sherlock," John whispered in his ear, tilting his up hips in invitation.

The taller man stayed still for a few more seconds, still getting himself under control. When he moved John almost didn't feel it at first, it was so gentle.

"I won't break," he said, his hands fisting in Sherlock's curls. "Harder. Now."

Sherlock groaned and let himself go a bit more, thrusting sharply into John with a roll of his hips. Judging by the quick gasp and the new nail marks on his back he would say that John enjoyed that very much. So he did it again. And again. Over and over until they both lost their rhythm.

With a sharp cry John came, nails biting into Sherlock's upper arms. Sherlock thrust a couple more times then followed, stuffing his face into the pillow and practically wailing his release.

Better than I remember… John thought to himself. He would have to remember to bottom more often in the future.

Sherlock huffed, a smile on his face. "All you have to do is ask. You can bottom whenever you want."

John glared at him. "Stop that."

Sherlock dipped his eyes, trying to look coy. The effect was ruined by eyes that were just starting to return to their natural color. Coy just did not really work with red eyes.

John rolled his eyes at the attempt causing Sherlock to grin. "Close enough," he said, leaning down to place a relatively chaste kiss on his doctor's mouth, he then curled around him like an overly friendly cat and pretended to sleep.

John laughed and yawned, eyelid drooping slowly. "Night, Sherlock."

"Goodnight John."

Ok. I have been told that my writing is better than I think it is. Not sure if I believe that but... comments and/or concerns (or possible threats?) are welcome.