ihadabadday | The Black Book - AU - Locked to seaweed

"Lemmme gooooo!!" The Goblin was small and wiggly, and was able to get out of Sherlock's grasp. "You're a freak!" He threw a parting shot when he was far enough away. He ducked down an alley and was gone.

Sherlock was trying his hardest not to care, not to let this get to him, but he had been called a freak for hundreds of years now, and it wore him down bit by bit until the word became a raw wound that rubbed every time the insult was lobbed at him.

"The sooner we are out of here, the better." He murmured, putting his head down and pulling his hood low and shoving his hands in the pockets of his Belstaff, trying to drawing up into himself as much as he could. How did John survive here, looking like a human, he wondered? If they hated Vampires, they must hate humans even more, and he was sure that they would kill any human who wandered in here alone.

John's appearance had gone back to normal. "I'm the boogeyman to a lot of them." he told his mate as he led him to the building his flat was in.

"Where did you come crawling out from?" And older woman who was sitting on the front steps hissed at John.

"Beatrice... I live here." John replied, "Are you going to let me pass, or do I need to bind you again?"

The ancient looking woman hissed at him, but moved to the side.

John rolled his eyes and then grabbed Sherlock, dragging him up the steps and into the council flat. So many creatures lived in these flats, and those who were just back from the front lines. It was an area that the Yard didn't come around too much.

Sherlock wasn't really paying much attention to anything, he was in his own world. He was following John, and listening to him, but he was hunched up, making himself look as invisible as possible. He just wanted to get the hell out of here and forget that this had ever happened.

He only made one little noise of surprise as he was drug inside the building and up the stairs. It was a tony flat, hardly even one room with a tiny bathroom off to the side. There wasn't even a separate bedroom, or any sort of kitchen, other than a tiny refrigerator pressed against one wall. How did he live here? It was more like a prison cell than anything else. Sherlock would know,. He'd spent time in prison simply for being a Vampire.

John grabbed the duffel from under the small bed and began to pack. Not much went in, a couple pairs of pants, some vests, trousers and shirts. He grabbed his minimal toiletries and then zipped the bag close. He paused and then unzipped the bag, retrieving a thin black box. He slid that into his pocket.

All in all, he had less than what could fit in the duffel.

He looked at his slumped mate. "Lets get out of here."

Sherlock saw the thin black box. He was curious as to what was inside of it, but before he could ask, John was done and said that they should leave. He just nodded, and followed him back down the stairs and past the old woman who gave them a harsh look while John hailed a cab, and they got in, heading back towards Baker Street.

"I don't know how well white magics or prayers would work on me." John said after a moment. He was trusting Sherlock with this.

"Even after the Fall, Mum never lost her faith. She still believed in Him, it, everything." He rubbed his face, "Dads went to church every Sunday with her."

He was a big fucking mess genetically speaking. A Fallen as a mother, a human father (though he suspected his father wasn't entirely human) and enough weird things that he played so much close to the chest.

Sherlock looked to him, a bit confused. They hadn't been talking about white magic,and he wasn't sure where this conversation had come from.

"I am a Vampire, John. If I tried to use white magic, it would probably kill me. I am Unholy. I am Dark. White magic is the very opposite of my very being." His voice was low. He was still curled up into himself as much as he could be in the cab.

He took a deep breath, and sighed. Since John was opening up, he would too. "I... was the child of a deacon, when I was turned. The Old One who turned me did so to get back at my father for killing his mate. My father... when I turned.. tried to kill me. I fled. I was 30 human years old and I had nothing."

"I guess I was saying all of that for this." He pulled out the box, but didn't open it.

"It's my father's rosary." He explained.

John smiled and then kissed Sherlock. Oh this vampire. "It's us against the world now."

Touching a rosary wouldn't kill him, but it would burn him where it touched, so he would have to be very careful about dealing with that box. If he had his druthers, he wouldn't allow it in his flat, but it wasn't just his flat any more, and he would never ask John to get rid of something that had belonged to his father. He had nothing that belonged to his blood family, though he did have some items from his Vampire sire and his unholy family.

Sherlock kissed John back, maybe not as intensely as he did sometimes, but it was an honest and loving kiss.

He had said that his father had died at 70, so he was at least that old, but how long ago had that been? He had never asked. "How.. many human years are you? He figured it couldn't have been too long, as he still looked like a young man, just a bit older than he had been when he was turned

John pulled back from the kiss and was quiet as he thought. How many indeed. He'd stopped counting after his father passed.

"Probably ninety? I think. I stopped counting. Mum would know." He admitted with a flush, "She was always better with that than I."

Oh Christ. He probably should text his mother to tell her what happened. If she didn't already know.

"I haven't told Mum I'm back in London yet."

In the grand scheme of things, John was almost a baby when it came to Demons. Well, not really, but he was pretty young, at least for true Demons, But neither of them knew how long John would actually live. He wondered if his mother would have an idea.

"I have a feeling that your mother would not be happy to meet me." He said, in a flat tone. "If you want to visit her, I.. will wait for you. " He figured that she would feel the same way about him, and vampires in general that most people, human or not, felt about his kind.

"No. Mum will want to meet you. She'll tan my hide if I don't bring you when I visit." John sighed and rubbed his forehead.

"She still might when she finds out I've been back in London for over a month and haven't contacted her."

"Mum is a force of nature." He took a deep breath as he pulled out his phone. Call or text?

Sherlock had had enough hate for the day. He really wasn't sure if he could take any more. Of course, if John wanted him to meet her, he would, but he had to know what he was getting into.

"Your mother.. She..." He paused, only now actually looking up an into John's eyes. "She doesn't hate.. Vampires?" There was the tiniest amount of hope in his voice. "I suppose, if you are worried about her being mad, and she isn't otherwise occupied, that we could see her." He looked back down. He really would rather go home and curl up in a ball for a few days, but if they could kill two birds with one stone and have John see his mother again, it made sense.

'Do.. we need to tell the cabbie to go somewhere else? " He asked, and the cabbie did turn around, waiting to see if their destination would change.

"No. We're going home Sherlock. Mum can wait another day. You're spooked and I'm exhausted."

John looked at his mate, who he knew put up a front on being strong and indifferent all the time. It was amazing what he had learned about his mate in the past day.

Once they got to Baker Street, John paid the cabbie and ushered his mate upstairs to their flat. He dropped his bag on the ground and shed the canvas jacket and his shirt. His form shifted from human to half demon.

"I'm fine. I'm not... 'spooked', John." Sherlock grumbled, crossing his arms and looking out the window. He knew that he was getting stroppy, but he didn't want to feel weak or worthless or 'spooked'. He was a Vampire, his sire was First Blood, one of the Old Ones. That blood ran in his veins. He wasn't some helpless little thing.

Sherlock was quiet and stroppy the entire ride back to Baker Street, not saying a word until John put down his bag and turned back into his demon self. "You could have scared away the hecklers in that form at your flat." He snapped, though there was really no venom in it at all. He was just in a mood.

"I know that. But I have an appearance to keep up." John said. He crossed over to Sherlock and wrapped his mate in his arms and wings.

"Hecklers are a common thing. Vampires are easy targets because they're so long lived. Humans next because they're normal. I've gotten as much hell as you have."

Sherlock tried to huff and stay stiff, but being in John's arms made his muscles relax and he eventually, slowly, put his head on John's shoulder.

He had little doubt that John had gotten a lot of heckling and cajoling for being a half demon, but he had only had to deal with it for about 75 years or so, while he has had to deal with it for over 400. But he wasn't about to make this into a pissing match, despite his stroppy mood , so he simply stayed silent.

John just held him close. He wanted to protect Sherlock from the world, from those that would do him harm. And he would. He would protect the vampire.

---

He had been in London three months, mated to Sherlock for two and he knew. He needed to call his mother. Sherlock was out with the ever mysterious Mycroft.

John took his phone out of his pocket and dialed his mother's number.

She was going to be pleased and upset to hear from him. He remembered her as a formidable woman, not taking anything from anyone and teaching him how to take on the world.

From his father, he learned patience and peace. They were yin and yang, but perfect together.

Martha Watson was the human name that she had taken. There were very few people that knew that she was a demon, one of the Old Ones, the oldest of the old demons, the most ancient and venerated. When she went to visit the Demon Plain, she was revered. Here on Earth, she was a kindly older woman who mostly kept to herself.

But she had an important job. She also was part of the group that monitored what the Demons on Earth were up to. If any of them started to cause any trouble, she had her 'goon squad' that she called to straighten them out. Since she was at top, the head of that division, most of her job was bureaucratic, dealing with communication between Earth and the Demon Plain, when it came to doling out punishments, which more than occasionally meant death for repeat offenders.

She was formidable, and she had lost rank and status when she fell in love with, and married a human man. And when they had a half demon son, she was almost exiled, she was persecuted, but she had made friends in high places, and she fought her way back up the ladder. and her son, called John in the human tongue, ended up being a good example for human/Demon relations. He had even joined the human Army.

Martha was proud of her boy, but it had been so long since he had been in touch. She had no idea if he was even still alive.

Being an Old One and having such power meant that she could work in her modest home on the outskirts of London.
She was in her office one day when the phone rang.

"Hello?" She asked, putting on a voice that sounded like an older human woman, a part of her cover.

John froze for a moment when he heard her voice. His father hadn't been the one to discipline him, Mum had. He respected her and even feared her a bit. It was part of everything.

"Hi Mum. It's John."

He sat down on the couch and ran a hand over his face. How would his mother react to hearing he was mated to a vampire? Would she shun him?

He didn't know much about her life before she met Dads.

"John!!" She immediately reverted back to her normal speaking voice, which was a lot deeper and more booming than the old woman voice that she showed the human world.

"It's been a very long time, Japhrimel. " She said, using his true name. "I hope that I find you well. Are you still in the Army? I do hope that you will visit me once you return."

He hadn't even shared his true name with Sherlock yet. He shifted in his seat, feeling very much like he did when he was seven years old and had gotten into a fight in school.

"Mama..." he stammered, "I... I'm in London. But my mate is... He is tentative about meeting you." He blurted out.

Oops.

"Your mate??" She asked, her voice getting higher and louder. It was customary when a demon is mated to get the approval from one of the Council of Elders. And of course, Martha was a member. It was almost totally a ceremonial title, the Council rarely met, only in the most dire of circumstances. There hadn't been a council that dealt with Earth since World War II. The humans couldn't know that Hitler had been a demon in a human disguise. It was was a huge coverup that was executed well. No humans ever found out.. and survived.

"Japhrimel! How could you do this? You became mated without even telling me? And how long have you been back in London? You didn't tell me about that either.. Have you been mated long? Did you find... a human?" There had, so far, never been any one quarter demons born.

Half-demons were very rare, and they were usually sterile when it came to creating children. That was not so much the case when it came to bearing children though. When a Demon bred with a half Demon, the resulting child, though it would still technically be three fourths of a true Demon, the genes of the full Demon were so much stronger, the child was almost always perfectly identical to a full Demon and granted full Demon status. If they were not, well, they didn't live very long. It was cruel, but that was Demon life.

"Three months Mum. I was invalid home from Afghanistan. A spelled arrow to the shoulder. I got a job with the Yard, curse breaker. On one of my first assignments I met him..."

John knew his mother could find him if she really tried. Fuck.

"His name is Sherlock Holmes, his sire is one of the First Blood. A vampire ancient enough to go toe to toe with you Mum." He had heard stories growing up of the Old Ones. They were not to be messed with.

What would Sherlock's sire say when he found out his son was mated to a half-demon...

There was a small gasp on the other side of the phone. A spelled arrow? That was disturbing indeed. Those were supposed to be illegal. Most likely it wasn't another Demon who shot it, but there was a chance. If it had been, she had not heard about it. She made a mental note to herself to dig a bit deeper on that. Of course she was glad that he was alright, but she was still upset that it had taken three months for him to get in touch.

But those thoughts were halted as soon as John spoke again.

"Sherlock Holmes?" She knew that name. In the Underworld, he had made a name for himself as a Demon Hunter, the ones who had gone rogue and were no longer following the rules. But she also knew him for the name that he had made for himself on Earth. He was famous with both humans and creatures.

And his sire, the mysterious First Blood, the Old One known only as M, he was a mystery of mysteries. No one actually saw him or dealt with him directly, only his underlings. No one even knew what he looked like. There were rumors that he posed as a human in a position in the British Government, but the man known as Mycroft Holmes on Earth of course would never admit if it was true.

And her son had mated with the progeny of M? If true, that would indeed change her standings quite a bit. Demons and Vampires didn't really get along well, but they were the greatest of all the Underworld creatures, the ones all the others looked to for leadership and balance. And so they ruled- mostly- side by side, forming loose alliances and councils.

And she could be the one to bring the two groups together... permanently.

"I must meet him." She said, in a tone that brooked no argument.

The Black Book - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

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