The Black Book - AU - Locked to seaweed_writes

[ihadabadday]

He was lucky with his expertise he was able to find a job relatively quickly in a field he was familiar with. John looked down at his mobile as the alert came through. Christ. It was going to take him at least twenty minutes, if he was lucky, to get to the scene. But, he packed his things into the case and headed out.

He had been in Afghanistan for five years. First as a medic, then a doctor, and finally a hunter. He still was a doctor, but he had been assigned to an elite unit in the desert. Part of him felt a bit odd about all of it. But he didn't quite mind.

He made sure he had everything before he left.

He heard the annoyed voices, before he saw anyone as he entered the room.

"Oi. Who're you?" A man with two days of stubble and mussed black hair asked.

John paused and looked him over before his eyes landed on the gentleman in the suit with salt and pepper hair. There he was. "DI Lestrade? I'm Doctor John Watson, the new Occult Specialist, I just started last month." He gave him a smile, wanting to be nice, but not too friendly. People got jumpy around the occult. He saw it all the time in Afghanistan, and even here in London.

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[seaweed_writes]

It wasn't until three days later when Sherlock came into contact with John Watson again. Lestrade had, annoyingly called Sherlock back into his office at New Scotland Yard. It had ended up being a fruitless meeting that left Sherlock more frustrated than before he had arrived.

Immediately, Sherlock spotted John at the front desk. Apparently he was picking up some files. It was obvious that it was the blood work that he had requested at the scene.

He stomped over there and stopped right when his hooded Belstaff was pressing against John's coat. He stood over John, and ominous, looming presence.

[ihadabadday]

John paused when he saw the expression on the receptionist's face. But he didn't look up. "Ah hey there. Sherlock was it?"

He was replaying the conversation he had with Lestrade when the man drove him home the other day. He was positive that the man didn't believe him on how he escaped Sherlock's Thrall.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock glared. He knew damn well who he was. He saw the recognition in his eyes when he realized who was there, without even looking at him.

Why did Sherlock want the man to look at him?

The receptionist handed him a file, but Sherlock ignored her and spoke with John, even though he wasn't looking at him.

"You know that there is more to this case than just a simple summoning that went wrong, do you not?" He asked.

[ihadabadday]

He took the file from the receptionist and glanced at Sherlock. John then tucked the file into his bag. "Oh, your theory sounded plausible."

He stepped back from the desk and went to head for the exit. He was wearing military boots, denim trousers, a black canvas jacket, and a simply t-shirt. He was wearing the same pendant he had been at their first meeting.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock paused for a moment as John started to walk away. He shook his head to clear it. He couldn't help but be utterly fascinated by the man. He was, as humans- or whatever he was- went, quite handsome. And John had blushed more than once when Sherlock had spoke to him. There was an attraction, he could tell.

One more shake of the head and he followed John, his longer legs making quick work of the distance between them. As they reached the outside, he put his hood up and put on his gloves. Even through that the heat made his skin prickle and flush.

"It wasn't a THEORY, John." He said as they left New Scotland Yard. "That is what really happened. That idiot Lestrade is looking for the other person, he's handling it like it was just another case of illegal magic. Moron." He muttered the last word under his breath.

[ihadabadday]

"Well that's his call." John said as they walked. He had no issue keeping up with Sherlock's long strides. It was odd how easy they were falling into things. And it worried and intrigued him.

"I don't want to see more people get hurt, but if he goes in the wrong direction and someone else gets flash fried... Then it's on him."

He paused in a shady area and tilted his head to look up at Sherlock.

[seaweed_writes]

I didn't escape Sherlock's notice that the man was easily keeping up with him.

Right now, though, he was concentrating more on what he was saying and trying not to think about how his strides were inhumanly long, his stamina high (don't think about that!!) and how the man was hardly taking his eyes off of him.

"But he's WRONG!" Sherlock exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air. The man was so frustrating and alluring and..

NO.

He coudln't think about that.

[ihadabadday]

John glanced up at him and then paused in their steps. He waited for the vampire to realize he had stopped. "So, what do you want to do about it?" He asked.

What he had. It been expecting was the offer for dinner. He arched an eyebrow and looked at him.

"A real restaurant or a vampire blood dungeon sort of thing?" He asked dryly.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock was trying his best not to yell at the man, but he did tend to be thick at times.

"I want to talk about the case, at a restaurant." He said, rolling his eyes. "A REAL restaurant. Italian."

Sherlock knew just the place, one of his favorite places to eat.

He tried to hide his relief when John said. "Yeah, alright."

And with a few quick strides, they were off to dinner.

[ihadabadday]

John found himself enjoying the company. He was smiling more than he usually did. There was something about this vampire...

He barely even protested when he was pulled away from the delicious dinner to run to the morgue.

And he couldn't help it. He praised Sherlock, calling him brilliant. He was. It was amazing how he could look at something and just know.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock knew that he couldn't do this. He couldn't let his man under his skin. But with every 'brilliant' and 'amazing' and 'spectacular' he could feel his reesolve crumbling.

Sure, vampires were known for their egos, and Sherlock was worse than most, but this was more

This was..


This was something that he couldn't abide. He had to end this, now.


And yet, when they parted ways, and John went back to his bedsit and Sherlock went back to Baker Street, he couldn't help but stare out the window at London below and wonder about this man who had cracked his shell and slithered his way inside.

[ihadabadday]

John lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He folded his arms behind his head and let out a sigh.

It was supposed to just be dinner. But then the morgue and the Yard... He was constantly thinking about the Vampire. How had that happened?

He didn't want... Maybe he did. But he didn't want to hurt the vampire. He was drawn out of his thoughts by the ringing mobile.

He grabbed it and answered it. "Sherlock?"

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock had managed to dial John's number and keep his phone hidden in his pocket, so the man could hear everything that was going on. He knew, even after one day, that John would be smart enough to figure out what was happening.

"Sherlock Holmes, you're gonna come with me." The accent was a deep Cockney one.

"Don't try anything." the other person said.

"Ah, so that's how you did it." Sherlock replied.

"Yeah." The cockney accent replied. "As long as I have this, you have to do what I say. They ALL have to do what I say."

[ihadabadday]

John swore and was out of bed. He grabbed his jacket and his pistol before running out the door.

He stopped when he got to the street and let out a breath. He had to think. He had to think about this.

He fingered the talisman he wore. John closed his eyes and let out a breath. He focused his energy, allowing the homing tracker to flow out.

[seaweed_writes]

The phone call continued.

"A blackblood stone." Sherlock said. "Highly illegal magic that requires some very highly illegal blood sacrifices. Judging from the mediocre work you've done on these circles, you've had some help. do you have friends in high places? And of course, you must know that by using it..."

Sherlock was cut off. "SHUT UP!" Sherlock just made a noise.

"The strain on my body will et me alive from the inside out, and I'll be dead in a fortnight." The cockney voice said. "But I was already dead before this. I've got nothing to lose."

"When I command you, you're going to cut your wrist and give your Elite blood to the circle. You will of course, be incinerated immediately. But you are a small sacrifice for the glorious return of my Master." There was a slight pause.

"I wish I could have played with you properly, but you would've smelt the sulfur. Not much fun in that." Another pause.

"Now.." the cockney accent said.. and then,,, a gunshot.

[ihadabadday]

He was almost too late. He had first been drawn in the direction of some kids. Might want to tell the Yard about it.

Of course the stupid homing charm couldn't tell him what building. So he went into the one on the right.

He ran into a room and saw..."fuck." He swore.

He pulled his gun and took aim. Without a second thought he fired at the man holding the Blackblood Stone.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock's acute hearing heard the sound before he saw anything. He hopped out of the way just in time to see a shot right through the man's wrist.

He stumbled back.. right to the circle that he drew himself. He only had time to whisper the word "master" before a flash of light surrounded him and he disintegrated into a pile of ash.

Sherlock looked to the source of the shot. a clean bullet hole through the window, and across the way, there was an open window.

And beyond that- John Watson.

Sherlock quickly made his way to the alley between the buildings, where he was not surprised to meet John once again.

"I see you got my message." He said, calmly, though his heart would have been racing, if he still had a beating one.

[ihadabadday]

John watched the cabbie fall into the circle, and he was thusly incinerated. He lowered his gun and nodded to Sherlock through the window. He then turned and fled the building, exiting at the same time as Sherlock.

He laughed at that, smiling. "A bit cryptic, but manageable."

He was flushed slightly, scuffing his foot against the alley.

[seaweed_writes]

Sherlock was glad that night had fell, he didn't have to wear that cursed hood over his face. He hated it, it messed up his hair.

He started to walk towards the main road to find a taxi. He didn't even have to look back, he knew that John was following behind him with those unusually long strides for as short of a man he was.

"How did you find me?" He asked as he walked away, barely looking over his shoulder.

[ihadabadday]

He followed after him easily enough.

"Ah, just a simple homing charm." John laughed fingering his talisman. It looked to be bone and wrapped in wire and leather and tied around his neck on an aged leather cord.

He was smiling. This man...

[seaweed_writes]

John was in the middle of saying something inane about some kids in Kings when Sherlock, mid stride, looked over and interrupted him.

"You saved me." He said, finally slowing his steps, then stopping.

"Most people wouldn't bother to save a vampire." He looked away, not able to look at John while he spoke.

"Eternal burdens on society and all that jazz." He was used to the persecution that he received being a vampire. On the surface, it didn't bother him, he didn't let it, but after 400 years, something like this could really start to wear a man down. It wasn't really fair, but hey- life wasn't really bloody fair.

[ihadabadday]

He paused and looked at Sherlock. John let out a breath and smiled slightly.

"I always felt that was a bit racist." He shook his head, "And you have good intentions, which makes you not so bad. Despite the blood drinking."

He rubbed the back of his head. "And you're the only person in this whole damn city who doesn't drive me up the wall, to be honest."

[seaweed_writes]

He had totally stopped now, a couple of steps ahead of John. "I could say the same." He said.

Damnit, he thought to himself. It was now or never. He had to know, and there was no other excuse to keep John around. Invite him in now, before it's too late and he leaves again, and you may never get the chance to see him again.

Suddenly, he turned to the side, his face even more pale that usual. "Do you want to come back to mine?"

If it had been anything else happening, Sherlock would have thought that it was cute, the way that John's entire face turned red. But he knew that he was blushing as well.

"You mean like.." He heard John start to say, before Sherlock interrupted him before he lost his nerve.

"For.. coffee or.." He paused. "Not coffee.. Either way." His shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes, letting out a long breath. Crap, this was ridiculous.

"I'm not very good at this." He admitted, his voice only a whisper.

[ihadabadday]

John's face was red, he could feel the way it crept up his face and tinged his ears. But his lips were turning upwards. "I mean... Yeah, you're terrible. But I'm not entirely opposed to... not coffee."

He met Sherlock's gaze and bit his lip. "But I'm not living with you."

[seaweed_writes]

"Well, we can talk about that later."

Immediately Sherlock walked the last few steps out of of the alley and flagged down a taxi. There was still time for John to change his mind, but thankfully he got in on the other side. It was a strange, quiet, awkward ride to Baker Street. Sherlock kept thinking that John was going to decide that this was a bad idea and back out of it.

Finally, the taxi stopped at 221 Baker Street. He got out and paid the man, then unlocked the door, looking over his shoulder to make sure that John was still there. He was.

He took John up the stairs and went in first, opening the door and holding it in, formally inviting the man into his abode.