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"Oh dear you're one of them aren't you? A were" Molly said looking at the whimpering black and gray wolf that she'd stumbled upon while on the run from the newest batch of Van Helsings, (why did they get stronger and meaner with each generation?), turns out that the overnight case that Sherlock had taken was actually a cover for the activities of her least favorite clan of hunters and naturally those thugs had smelled her from miles away, to add insult to injury she'd arrived at the country on a night of full moon and clear skies, which made it ten times easier for them to hunt creatures like her, which was why she'd turned tail and ran from her hotel straight into the woods with only a panicked text to Sherlock claiming something had come up and she would send a replacement pathologist soon "I thought werewolves were extinct" she mused absentmindedly inhaling the powerful and oddly familiar scent of ‘supernatural predator' that marked the wolf as a mixture of human and beast, to which the wolf in question gave Molly a snort.
His eyes, dark from what she only assumed could be hunger, were mocking as if saying ‘I thought your type extinct too’
To which Molly grinned "we parasites have ways of avoiding hunters, just like you I guess" spying the bleeding wound that was making the wolf sway from one side to another made her suppress a wince "or not that much I suppose"
The Wolf’s eyes even as he struggled between both dragging itself away and moving closer were haughty and superior giving Molly the distinct impression that he was looking down on her for daring to assume that he wasn’t the smartest, fastest, greatest animal, a thought he (because it was a he) punctuated with a feral growl, showing fangs that made Molly’s vampire nature push itself to the surface, hissing back with her own set of incisors and on instinct prepping for confrontation.
“So you are a vampire’s natural enemy huh?” even bleeding and looking like a big hulking killing machine, Molly had to admit that the wolf was adorable and she didn’t want to leave him there to die, she’d been Molly Hooper long before she became a vampire and her heart had always been stronger than the predispositions of her monster “I know I’m going to regret this” she muttered to herself “But I don’t want you to die, Mr natural enemy, so I suppose I must take you somewhere safe” and with that she hefted the wolf on her back and using her reserves of supernatural speed, ran like her life depended on it.
---------------------------------------------------
Sherlock awoke to hurt everywhere, to the scent of honey, orchids, and blood that had always been so uniquely ‘Molly' he instantly felt at ease. He vaguely remembered busting a hunter's experimental base and freeing the werewolves trapped in the compound, knowing Mycroft would take care of the rest, the idiots hadn't been happy about it especially as he'd done it the night of the month werewolves were the most powerful so the Van Helsings had chased him with the best they had, then everything started to hurt and for some reason his mind palace had hallucinated Molly as a vampire.
Sherlock tried to groan as he struggled to open his eyes but to his horror, the only thing that came out of his throat was an unnatural bark and that's when he found himself looking into the eyes of a very worried Molly who was calmly poking him with a thermometer.
"Oh, you're awake! Thank heavens, for a moment I thought you wouldn't make it" Molly prattled pressing a wet cloth that stunk of chemicals into his fur…wait what? Fur?, the panic registered on his face because he must have made a pitiful whine that prompted Molly to try her best at soothing him "hey, hey, don't move too much, you're still not well Mr. Wolf, the silver poisoning hasn't left your system yet" she tried to soothe him but instead she only agitated Sherlock more.
Silver poisoning? what had those hunters done to him!!!. Silver took ages to get rid of once it hit a werewolf's bloodstream, it was the one thing Mummy had drilled into their heads since Mycroft's first full moon. What was worse, as long as it wasn't purged completely, Sherlock knew he wouldn't be able to shift back into a human. And if he spent too much time as a wolf without an anchor for his humanity, he could run the risk of losing his sanity.
But how long was too long? Days? Months? Wasn’t the variation subject to the wolf’s physiology?.
"STOP FIDGETTING" Molly shouted waving a raw steak under his muzzle "you're hurting yourself" Sherlock snorted but bit into the meat anyway, realizing belatedly that his wolf side strangely wanted to please her like a puppy in front of its owner. It was an instinct he'd been fighting since he met her, the unnatural wish to be close to the smell of death and orchids that she emanated, (leave it to his wolf to find itself attracted to one of the rare vampires left alive in Britain). But before this night he'd genuinely believed that the scent was a byproduct of her work as a mortician, death, and coagulated blood were common smells around people that worked in hospitals. Of course, his wolf was different, he'd known Molly was something more and pushed Sherlock to investigate which led him to place himself in her proximity too often, breeding a familiarity in his wolf that Sherlock wasn't proud of.
Now that he knew she was a vampire he felt that many things about his pathologist were starting to make sense, the eclectic music taste, shapeless clothes, the nondescript flat, the extreme politeness when entering a house, the mountain of makeup Sherlock believed he never saw her wearing and her lack of contact with her family. She had designed her life around the concept of blending in and it had even fooled Sherlock.
It made him wonder how Molly looked when she wasn’t purposefully downplaying herself, oh he knew she had the potential to be beautiful, if her efforts at the godawful Christmas party of hell were anything to go by and if she’d lived as long as he was deducing that she had then Molly must know it too, but to actually see the best she could do was something that intrigued him intellectually.
Molly smiled the artificial warmth of her hand in his head making Sherlock give a content sniff “There that's better, you should get some more rest after you eat, I don't know much about Werepeople outside of what old wives say, but I figured you need to build your strength back up with food and sleep” she disappeared for a moment and was soon back in with another juicy streak that Sherlock inhaled with gusto making her chuckle.
She was about to reach and pet him again when the sound of her phone (an obnoxious song by ABBA that Sherlock changed every time he got the chance) interrupted them.
With his enhanced senses was able to pick up the complete conversation quite easily, not really surprised that Lestrade was calling to see how Molly was faring, the man had the most annoying timing if Sherlock thought so himself going on and on about uninteresting topics until the wolf's ears caught his name being mentioned “....you wouldn't happen to know where he is now would you Molly?”
"not really, I mean I've tried calling to apologize for having to rush off but I get nothing, it's unusual for him to skip the reveal of a case that big"Molly replied casually "have you tried Mycroft?"
" I did, but you know that one, all one can get out of Mycroft Holmes are cryptic riddles and the occasional passive aggressive threat, although he seemed oddly self-assured for a man who's brother is MIA"
"which probably means that he knows Sherlock is safe and sound somewhere classified doing his Sherlocky things" Molly reassured him, throwing a third bloody steak at the wolf she'd rescued "Sherlock does this all the time Greg, yes he was wounded the last time you saw him but trust me he'll turn up in a week or two looking healthy as ever, you shouldn't stress yourself so much"
"You're right Molly, he's probably ignoring everybody in one of his bolt holes and mentally gloating about how his friends worry when he takes off like that"
the rest of the conversation passed in a similar vein and soon Molly was clicking the phone off and going back to the kitchen to fetch the wolf a bowl of water.
"That was my friend Greg from Scotland Yard, I don't suppose you know who he is," Molly said once again reaching out to stroke Sherlock's fur "oh what am I saying, you're in wolf form, even if you did, you can't exactly tell me, must be frustrating"
Sherlock gave an affirmative bark that startled Molly.
"Oh" She said looking into his dark eyes that were turning back into a recognizable color "You can understand me" she babbled "well of course you can understand me, you're human underneath all that teeth, silly me I'm sorry if I offended you, I have Toby you see and half of the time even he prefers to ignore me" Sherlock knew that already, her self-proclaimed 'familiar' hated him by virtue of his species.
Sherlock again gave her a tired bark which apparently only made her more delighted.
"Do you have a pack? Anybody, I should contact?"
the wolf gave her his version of a nod.
“Anybody who wouldn't bite first and ask questions later?”
Sherlock's answer was only an exasperated huff through his muzzle. Mycroft was the only one who fit that criterion and if he hadn't shown up yet then it was because he was probably not going to.
“I thought so” Molly smiled taking up the plate where he'd been eating the raw meat and the empty bowl of water “Don't worry, I'll make sure you are okay, I brushed up on my veterinary sometime in the eighties and really how rusty can I be?”
The wolf eyes reminded her so much of Sherlock's, Heterochromia was considered a sign of mutation in humans, but while Sherlock's eyes usually veered into the hues of blues and greens, this one had a grayish almost monochromatic spectrum of color in his, faded purples and sometimes a flash of yellow. It made Molly even more determined to nurse him back to health again.
Sherlock for his part found it almost bizarre how his wolf easily accepted her care without even a hint of fear or aggression, considering she was for all intents and purposes the enemy, neither side of his being could bring itself to consider her as such.
Ever since Sherlock was born he'd been taught to respect his wolf, some people called it magic, the Holmes clan liked to refer to the werewolf gene as a genetic mutation that marked them as superior, the wolf in their veins gave them a longer lifespan, a range of five senses that was ten times better than an average human being's, a higher intellectual ability and of course strength and healing that was supernaturally enhanced, in return for those gifts of nature, each one of them gave the wolf a part of their humanity, which was why it needed to take control every once in a while and if the werewolf tried to suppress the wolf, it forcefully came out the nights of full moon.
Sherlock was taught to control the wolf like his ancestors before him, indeed Mycroft and their sister Eurus, had tamed theirs into submission by the time they were old enough to talk, sadly they had all been born with the Alpha gene, which made it impossible for them to get along in any aspect of their lives.
The Holmes bloodline was strong, perhaps too strong in this generation and as such once Mycroft was old enough he chose a field of work that was the furthest away from his siblings as he could, one where he could assert his leadership instincts without clashing with his siblings.
In Sherlock's family not ripping each other's neck in a battle for dominance was considered love.
Sherlock likewise had chosen a field that would keep him moderately away from Mycroft but Eurus had been a tragedy, her wolf had been...damaged from the beginning, filling her head with impulses that went against everything the pack stood for, slowly eating away at her humanity side like parasite, until one day her wolf forced itself out in order to satisfy it' urge to kill and when Eurus turned back the wolf proved to be stronger in her head, leaving his sister halfway between bloodthirsty alpha and catatonic woman.
Mummy said that it was because Eurus had hated her wolf and as a result, her wolf had been fed on the hate she gave it. But Sherlock still mourned for his sister nevertheless.
“My sire always said that I wasn't made for this life you know, he said I was rubbish at being anything but a disappointment to his bite line, 'you never follow your instincts Mary Margaret' he used to say, that bag of bones” Molly grumbled startling Sherlock out of his inner musings watching as she brought a mountain of pillows and quilts to her living room “Well, following his instincts got him and my nest mates killed in the Edwardian period so as you can see, I was all the better off for it”
Sherlock gave a happy woof as he easily deduced that she was attempting to make him a 'bed' in front of the TV, now that he'd proven too fussy for her couch which made Molly smile “ Oh I know what you're thinking, how does a Victorian girl survive into the twenty first century without a bounty on her head or a stake in the chest?” Molly continued to talk and Sherlock realized that yes, he really was interested in her history, the Victorian period was a favorite of his and as demure as Molly was,it didn't surprise him that she came from the age of Jack the Ripper “I didn't follow my instincts, that's what I did, If my fangs said 'kill' I said 'no', if my arms begged me to crush I hugged instead, for every instinct that told me to fight that's when I knew when to run, instead of amassing money I earned every degree I could in any profession that handled blood, instead of plotting for vampire supremacy I learned to love the humans....and so here I am”
'one of the last few of your kind alive' Sherlock finished for her, but of course, the only thing that came out of his muzzle was a pitiful apologetic growl.
Molly was curious about her wolf, she'd taken time out of work to nurse him back to health (what was time for a vampire anyway) and She'd taken to calling him Grumpy, which as far as temporary names went drove him to shred her couch so it was another day of playing guess until the wolf gave up the fight and limped his way to the TV barking loudly whenever Prince William was mentioned, so that solved one mystery: his name was William.
She liked having him around, it had been such a long time since this happened. living among humans and blending in that she rarely got the chance to interact with a fellow supernatural and show anybody her true self, but with William it was comforting not to have to hide who she was, plus, he listened to her, communicating in his own way with growls and huffs that made her feel happier as she went around her flat with him in tow.
One week passed and Sherlock was finally able to walk properly on all fours, but not shift back to human and he let her know quite rudely by pushing himself through her open bedroom door and plopping his massive wolf form in what Sherlock had dubbed 'his' side of the bed whenever he was here in human form, which drew an exasperated grunt from Molly and nothing else. Contrary to what mainstream media would have him thinking Vampires slept at any time of the day, not just during daylight.
In the past week Sherlock had learned more about vampires than he'd ever in any of his studies, for example after the first century, older vampires developed a certain amount of immunity to the sun that made it possible for ones like Molly to walk around in daylight without burning, direct hits of UV rays were still harmful but she easily countered it with long sleeves and a well-used umbrella on the rare days London wasn't rainy, or so she'd told him.
They were as strong and as fast as any werewolf probably even more so, considering the amount of furniture Molly rearranged daily to accommodate his massive wolf form and lift him while he was asleep, fast, twice as bloodthirsty and they had a measure of psychic power over weaker minds that Molly called 'glamour', which helped her erase the occasional memory and do her blood bank groceries without too much trouble.
And then there were things he learned about Molly, the woman, things he never expected to learn about her.
First, she was fussy with him and his wolf adored her for it, she set him on a bed of pillows, blankets, and cushions when he'd been unable to walk, she fed him the best premium steak money could buy and brushed his fur daily with a fine bristle brush that was authentically Victorian until it shined, not even Toby got this much attention and the Alpha in him enjoyed the thought of having Molly cater to his every need...perhaps too much.
His wolf was an Alpha and she was playing right into his dominant tendencies whenever she bent in backwards to please him, the bloody animal wanted nothing more than to take care of her in return and it pushed Sherlock to see to it that the little vampire was well rewarded for being the undead equivalent of an Omega.
But all of her excess in taking responsibility for him only brought into much more painful clarity something Sherlock already knew but hadn't really analyzed deeply until now.
"I hope you can stay in touch when you turn back into your other form William, visit me after you leave if you want to," Molly said during one of those times when she'd been brushing his fur
Sherlock raised his head and gave her a questioning whimper 'me, leave?'
“No I'm not evicting you, I like having you here, but you'll leave...eventually” Molly shrugged with a self depreciating smile “You have to return to your pack, maybe return to your mate, or find a mate if you don't have one, I mean isn't that something werewolves do? Find a mate, form a pack, mark a territory?”
The wolf gave her an unamused look that said 'yes, AND?....'
“I'm just pointing out that you'll leave eventually, nobody ever stays forever....” She shrugged and Sherlock could hear the longing in her tone “Eternity is my dominion anyway, I'm used to it”
'I won't leave' he wanted to tell Molly 'I'll stay with you, I promise' but Sherlock was stuck in his animal form and never before had he hated this part of his transformations more than he did now.
He realized easily that more than isolated from her kind, Molly Hooper was lonely.
It was there in the way she talked when she shared some witty anecdote of some friend in the eighties or an occurrence she'd witnessed during the second world war. She'd lived to feel the sun stop burning her skin and in the meantime, her kind had dwindled into only a select few, most of which resided in other continents. She was not only a woman who dealt with the dead, she'd already been kissed by death itself and been found wanting, around her people lived and died but she just moved on, unable to find somewhere permanent where things would be different.
She didn't have anyone that knew her secret and she was one of the last left that would ever have that secret, how it must feel to walk the earth and feel that everyone moves on but you.
She was so lonely and yet so generous with everything she had, giving everything she could give that it hurt Sherlock to imagine that this was how it had always been for her, he wanted to change that.
And the Molly confessed that she'd wanted to kill him from the moment they met
“Oh William don't look at me like that, I haven't drained Sherlock Holmes and I never will, but you should know that I'm not a saint” She explained as she took some of his blood in a syringe to test the amount of Silver his body still hadn't purged (he knew he should be back to normal any day now) “From the moment I met him, the smell of his blood was something my sire said only existed in legends, a vintage crafted just for me and that would only ever appeal to me, his blood must taste like a dream”
Sherlock saw her eyes flash burgundy at the memory and nudged her arm with his head to make her snap out of it, not liking the fact that his human form was so appealing to her vampire senses, both man and wolf didn't like the idea of being considered a vampire's meal, Molly or no Molly.
But then she continued ruffling his fur and giving him a small smile “I thought that if I became his friend, or got to know him better then my stupid fangs would lose the taste for it, or at least I'd be able to convince myself that I was doing the right thing by not killing him and then....he turned out to be something entirely unexpected, someone good and fascinating and strangely caring” Molly chuckled “but he's so very breakable sometimes”
Sherlock barked something that sounded like a laugh, Him? Breakable? He was an alpha of his pack, a consulting detective who solved crimes for a living, he wasn't breakable.
"You know what I mean, humans are breakable, Sherlock especially seems to court danger like a madman" Molly kept threading her fingers through his fur and massaging his muscles after putting away the syringe "it's good that he tries to keep me at distance, healthy even.... Sometimes I'm afraid of harming him myself if he ever allows me to get too close, he probably knows I'm dangerous"
you're not dangerous Molly' Sherlock wanted to say 'you're kind and good and I....' but he stopped the thought dead in its tracks, this was not the time.
“He's been gone for days, I hope that he's okay, Sherlock is....peculiar for a human, normally people like him end up in some obscure lab somewhere conducting research or building themselves a tower so high they can forget their own humanity, but Sherlock is different, he's a genius but he also understands what it means to find life something worthy of protection " Molly sighed "And even though I know the margin of probability is higher when you can live until Armageddon, I don't think I'll ever find someone like Sherlock again, that's why I won't kill him, he's too much of a rare one, to kill him would be to rob humanity"
'And you? Was your death a theft to humanity too?' Sherlock thought to himself imagining the kind of life Mary Margaret Hooper led before becoming a child of the night, it was extremely flattering, hearing her talk about him in such an honest way from the perspective of a woman who had seen and lived through decades of history, the Alpha in him preened under the praise, but the man felt humbled, because this was what she really thought of him, after all the rude things he said to her or the insensitive way he'd behaved at the beginning of their acquaintance, she still believed in him.
Molly yawned resting her head on his back, using his warm pelt as a pillow “I think I might just be in love with him William” she muttered halfway before falling asleep on him.
The next morning Molly woke up to find herself cradled in the arms of a naked Sherlock right in the nest of cushions she'd made up for William...
and she did what any sane vampire would in the same situation: She screamed.
"Lower your voice Molly please" Sherlock groaned slowly blinking himself awake, feeling the muscles of his very human body hurt for disuse, thanks to Molly's feeding and lack of exercise he most likely had gained weight, but that didn't phase him as much as the panicked vampire scrambling away from him.
"Where is he?" Molly said looking around and sniffing the air "I can't smell him, Sherlock What did you do with the Grey wolf? He wasn't harming anybody" she accused narrowing his eyes after arriving at the wrong conclusion
“Molly”
"No, you can't just come here and take him away..."
“Molly stop”
“He was a friend, how could you Sherlock”
“MOLLY” Sherlock snapped before she drove herself into hysterics “you go to sleep next to a werewolf and wake up with a naked human male, what's the logical conclusion?”
Molly looked into his eyes, and back at the nest of pillows, then back into his eyes “heterochromia, I should have known it was a sign of wolf genes”
“Is this the part where you threaten to kill me and I threaten to kill you?” Sherlock raised an eyebrow in jest
“No”
"Good" he smiled and Molly smiled too, flashing out of the room and returning with a dressing gown for him in a second, not needing to exchange many words
“I'm uncomfortable with nakedness, despite my job...I was a raised in a proper Victorian home”
“All this time I've been hearing you talk about your life and I've had so many questions”
“I have questions for you too” she didn't look angry at his deception, just merely surprised and it gave Sherlock hope.
"How about introductions first? My name is William Scott Sherlock Holmes, werewolf, Alpha and lone wolf, although lately, I've been counting John, Mary, Rosie, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson and you as part of my pack if that makes sense, I'm a consulting detective and I turn into a wolf for a few nights every month" he was trying, trying really hard to sound casual and he could see Molly appreciated it " I lead a dangerous life, chase down criminals, often get shot at and I'm rubbish at keeping my flat clean"
“Nice to meet you Sherlock, I'm Mary Margaret Hooper, vampire, I was turned one hundred and five years ago by the man who began the legend of Jack the Ripper, my coven was killed by hunters in 1913 and I've been on my own ever since” She extended her hand and Sherlock shook it “I'm allergic to the sun, drink blood to survive and collect university degrees for fun”
"the pleasure is all mine Molly" he was feeling so warm and happy, now that he could actually talk to her feeling his wolf push against him to wrap her in his arms, that it took him one minute to recognize the feeling for what it was "do you know that wolves mate for life?"
"Well, I assumed they did" Molly replied wondering at the strange change of topic "Vampires do too, but it's not something that happens often, my kind is too paranoid for its own good, I was told it was like falling in love, only the love never fades or...." Molly looked down at her hands "goes away"
"Well I was taught that my wolf would know when it found its mate" Sherlock walked up to her and gently touched her cheek "And he chose you...he's been choosing you since the moment we met"
“I'm a vampire Sherlock, I could kill you, don't play games, please”
"You're kind and gentle, you take care of me when I don't deserve it, you're courageous, too generous for your own good" Sherlock replied instead putting his hand under her chin and forcing her to look at him "you are broken but you smile so brightly it hurts and for some reason Molly Hooper when I'm with you I feel like a better man so yes this isn't a game!"
The possessive tone in his voice made her shiver “you don't know what you're saying, please let me go”
“No” he replied pulling her flush against him and lowering his face into her neck “Never, I'm the Alpha remember”
“And I'm the vampire that gets high on the smell of your blood!”
"last night you said you loved me, do you deny that?" Sherlock played his last card, "I think I might just be in love with you too" he sighed lowering his mouth over hers "It just took me an eternity trapped in my wolf form to realize what he knew all along"
Sherlock's lips tasted as good as the blood in his veins, she got lost in the subtle softness of his kiss and the hardness of his jaw, delicious, like a treat the monster in her never wanted to stop devouring, she let her hands grasp his curls and massaged her fingertips into his scalp, not pulling but not pushing way either, just keeping him in place and relaxing his muscles into place for her pleasure
for Sherlock the kiss was a surprise he didn't expect, she tasted like blood and honey, her kiss made him feel alive, almost as though he'd never had a breath of fresh air and this was all the oxygen he needed to survive, she kissed like she lived, freely, generously, too passionately for his Alpha instincts not to demand complete control.
But eventually, they broke apart "is being a vampire really the only thing that holds you back from me?" He asked softly kissing her again "From being mine?"
"Werewolves are a vampire's natural enemy, I don't want to hurt you" Molly nodded accepting his kiss with ease.
“Then I'll find you a cure”
And that was a promise he intended to keep. He had a feeling that Molly had the Omega gene dormant in her body and he intended to awaken it, even if it meant hunting down the cure for vampirism to the ends of the earth.