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He had known it was going to be hard being a vampire. It had been hard enough learning the basics, and he's been doing it with vampires who had been doing it for at least a little while. He admired Molly greatly for having done it all on her own. There was a lot to learn, and it would still be a few weeks before he could try and reintegrate himself into the world and do a good job masking what he was now, but he'd made good progress according to Jacob, and that made him feel better. He had to admit, though, that going home felt even better than that. When he'd woken up the first afternoon after being turned he'd been hit with a profound sense of loss, not just for what his life would have been but for the home he had been certain he was going to have to leave behind. He hadn't really felt at home anywhere in his life before he moved into Mrs. Hudson's home, and the sense of home had gotten even stronger once John had moved in. While he knew John knew the truth about him and Molly he had thought that as long as Mrs. Hudson had to be kept in the dark he'd be a stranger to his home.
Today was a very good day for him. It had taken Molly some time to figure out what she wanted to keep and what she wanted to get rid of, but today they were moving her into 221B Baker Street and he was finally going to get to go home again. He was more grateful for that then he thought anyone realized. He had been home earlier in the week to figure out what he wanted to keep and what he would be willing to get rid of, and he had hope that both he and Molly would be happy with the ensuing result.
For appearances sake John helped him move the furniture in, even though he could easily do it himself. Molly was in the sitting room, talking to Mrs. Hudson as they brought in the last piece of furniture. “You know, since you can move this all on your own I'm taking a bit of a break,” John said as they got into the sitting room. “Molly, your furniture is bloody heavy.”
“It's old,” she said with a smile, standing up. “Even though we're strong enough to lift it up by ourselves it still helps to have two people maneuver it.”
“Well, my arms feel like they're going to fall off,” John said. “We should have had the two of you move everything.”
“Well, I appreciate the help,” Molly said. She moved over to her vanity. “I'll help you get this into the room, Sherlock.”
He nodded. “All right.” He went and picked up one end very easily and she picked up the other, and they maneuvered it into his bedroom. Most of his bedroom set had stayed in the room but everything had been rearranged. They moved it to where they had decided it would be and then set it down. “Thank you, once again,” he said as she straightened up.
“For moving in here?” she asked. He nodded. “It made more sense for me to do that. And this is your home.”
“Still, you didn't need to,” he said. He moved over to her and stood behind her, putting his arms around her. She leaned against him, reaching up to hold his arms. “You've given up more of your items than you've kept.”
“It's all right,” she replied. “It just so happens I like a lot of the things here, so I just kept the most important things.”
“If we weren't expected back out in the sitting room I would propose we spend some time in here,” he said, resting his chin on the top of her head.
“Oh, we will later,” she said with a chuckle. “But Mrs. Hudson and I were having a lovely conversation and I want to get back to it.”
“Well, go back and have it. I'm rather ravenous right now,” he said.
“Blood bag?” she asked, pulling away from him to look at him.
“That would probably be best,” he said with a nod.
“I just want to know what strings your brother is pulling to get us an unlimited supply without having to filch it from St. Bart's,” Molly said.
“You could probably ask him,” Sherlock said thoughtfully. “He'd either tell you or he'd say he has to kill you if he told you.”
“Well, I'm already dead,” she pointed out. “I mean, I'm undead. All he can do at this point is end my existence.”
“I don't want to think about that happening,” he said in a more serious tone.
She moved over to him again and kissed him softly. He responded in kind as he pulled her closer. The one nice thing about not having to breathe was there wasn't an actual need to pull apart, something he had certainly taken advantage of in the last few weeks. This time she ended the kiss much sooner than he would have liked. “We're going to be hundreds of years old before anything happens to us,” she said quietly. “Maybe even longer than that.”
“I could agree to that,” he said with a nod.
She gave him a smile. “Go ahead and eat. I'm not hungry right now, but I do have a cup of tea that's getting cold, and even now cold tea isn't appealing. I'll see you when you're done.” She gave him another kiss, this one not much more than a quick peck, and then she left their room. He went to the small refrigerator they had brought into the room and got a blood bag out of it, draining it fairly quickly. When he was finished he went back to his normal face and joined the others in the sitting room. John was sitting at the table, eating a sandwich while Molly was in his favorite chair with Mrs. Hudson on the sofa. “So you really did all of that?” she was asking her with a smile on her face.
“Really did what?” Sherlock asked, sitting in the other chair.
“Fought off zombies in the 1960s,” John said.
“Well, there were only two of them,” Mrs. Hudson said, picking up her cup of tea. “And they were more like the voodoo versions of zombies than they were actual reanimated corpses. But yes, I did. It was quite exhilarating, to be honest.”
“She's really had the most interesting life,” Molly said with a smile towards him. Then she turned back to Mrs. Hudson. “Tell him the story about the Frankenstein monster.”
“When I first got involved in the secrets game I was asked to go play spy at a highly secretive military installation,” Mrs. Hudson said after taking a sip of her tea. “They ran experiments there, on all sorts of things, and my superiors thought one of the scientists might be doing things he really shouldn't. So I posed as an assistant to one of the scientists whose lab was nearby his. One day there was a thunderstorm with lightning, and the scientist was nowhere to be found.”
“That doesn't bode well for him,” John said, chuckling softly. “I imagine there was a corpse waiting to be struck by lightning somewhere?”
“Oh yes,” she replied with a nod. “There was an abandoned hangar on the property, you see, and I braved the storm and went out to it when I couldn't find him anywhere else. I imagined that would be where a mad scientist would be doing experiments he didn't want the government to know about. And I was right. He had a patched up man on a table with all sorts of apparatus around him, just waiting for lightning to strike. He was preoccupied with something so I took a metal rod and hit him in the back of his head and then I sabotaged the machine. While he was out cold I contacted my superiors. He had come to before he could be collected and when his machine didn't work he went bonkers.” She took another sip of her tea. “He was locked up somewhere when he was found out, ranting and raving about how he could bring the dead back to life. No one realized he could actually do it.”
“That's actually quite fascinating,” Sherlock said with a grin.
“And I have many more stories like that,” she said with a nod. “So having two vampires living in my home is not that unusual for me, dear.”
“Have you ever dealt with vampires before?” John asked.
“There was a dear chap named Jacob who I worked with on a few occasions,” she said with a fond smile. “Looks quite young but he's hundreds of years old, I believe.”
Molly and Sherlock looked at each other for a moment. “He's the one teaching us the things we don't know,” Molly said after a moment, turning to look back at Mrs. Hudson.
“Really? Well, he's more than welcome to come here. I would love to talk to him again. It's been quite a few years, and I want to find out how he's doing.” She had some more of her tea. “He has the most wicked sense of humor, and he's quite the charmer.”
“Don't tell me you fancied a vampire,” John said, raising an eyebrow.
“I knew nothing would ever come of it, but it wasn't much more than harmless flirtations,” she said with a chuckle. “I'd be surprised if he even remembers me. It's been quite a long time.”
“I don't think anyone could ever forget you,” Sherlock said.
“That's very sweet of you, dear.” She looked at him and Molly with a fond smile. “After I'm dead and gone you two will remember me, won't you?”
“We'll remember you for as long as we're still on this earth,” Molly said with a nod, her smile faltering slightly.
Sherlock glanced at her, then turned back to Mrs. Hudson. “Perhaps you could tell us a few more stories,” he said, hoping the change in topic brought Molly out of a potentially melancholy mood.
“Oh, that sounds like a very good idea,” John said with a grin. “I missed most of them since I was helping move things in.”
“You can go over the ones I've already heard again,” Molly said with a nod. “I think they're brilliant stories.”
“If you're sure,” Mrs. Hudson said.
“I am,” she replied.
“I'd actually like to hear the voodoo zombies story,” Sherlock said.
“Well, that was a very interesting week,” Mrs. Hudson said with a smile, and she launched into the tale. When she was done with that Molly encouraged her to share another one, and then another, and by the time they were done talking four hours had passed. Finally Mrs. Hudson looked at her watch. “Oh, dear, it's quite late. I think I should be off to bed now.” She stood up. “Enjoy yourselves tonight, and don't be too loud.”
Molly chuckled. “We'll be very considerate. Good night, Mrs. Hudson.”
“Yes. Good night,” John said.
“Sleep well tonight,” Sherlock added.
“Good night, all of you,” Mrs. Hudson said before she left the three of them alone.
“You know, it's probably a good idea if I get some rest too,” John said, standing up as he yawned. “It's an early day for me tomorrow.”
Molly gave him a grin. “Good night then, John.”
“Good night, Molly, Sherlock.” John made his way to his bedroom after that and the two of them sat in companionable silence for a moment.
“I'm glad to be home,” Sherlock said, leaning back in his chair.
“I can tell,” she said, standing up. She moved over to him and after a moment he reached for her and pulled her down so she was sitting on his lap. “What do you say we adjourn to the bedroom and spend some time there?”
“I could agree to that,” he murmured as he nodded.
She smiled at him and leaned in to kiss him, and after a few minutes he pulled away from the kiss and shifted his position and then stood up, carrying her in his arms. “What are you doing?” she asked as she laughed quietly.
“Taking you to bed.”
“I can walk, you know,” she said, putting her arms around his neck and staying close.
“What is the point of having enhanced strength if I don't get to show off every once in a while?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Oh, Sherlock. Promise me you won't change, all right?”
“I promise, as long as you make the same promise to me,” he said, moving them towards their bedroom.
“Then I promise too,” she said with a nod. “Come on. Let's go celebrate you being home again. Quietly, of course.”
“Of course,” he said, grinning at her. This was going to be a good evening, he thought to himself. The perfect end to an already good day. And he couldn't be happier about it.