Work Text:
William Murdoch was rarely late for work, so his absence on a gray, overcast morning in mid-October did raise a few eyebrows.
Constable George Crabtree in particular had been keeping an eye on the station house door, looking for the detective. Fifteen minutes past the hour, then half past—at an hour gone George considered alerting Inspector Brackenreid, not to get his friend in trouble, but because when Detective Murdoch was missing, foul play was likely. He was on his way to the Inspector’s office when Detective Murdoch finally arrived, looking pale and moving slow.
“Sir! I was about to come looking for you!”
“Mmm?” William looked up as George approached. His eyes were glassy and took a moment to focus.
“You were late, sir.”
“Yes George, I am a bit behind my time.”
“You don’t look well, are you sure you should be up and about?”
Detective Murdoch blinked, seeming to take stock of himself. He shook his head, rubbing his neck absent-mindedly. “I’ll be fine George, I must have caught something; Julia was out of sorts the last couple of days…” He trailed off, considering.
“Sir?”
“No matter George, I’m here now. Anything pressing?”
“No sir, nothing requiring your attention.”
“Ah, good to hear, I’ll be in my office if I’m needed.”
“Sir.”
The detective shuffled to his office, closing the door behind him.
By mid-day he had not emerged , and the blinds remained closed. Inspector Brackenreid took notice.
“Oy, Crabtree! Where the bloody hell is Murdoch?”
“Oh, he’s in there, sir. He came in this morning looking quite peaky, I don’t think he is well at all.”
Brackenreid strode across the station and rapped on Murdoch’s door.
“Open up Bugalugs!”
After a few moments the door opened, revealing a bleary-looking detective.
“Yes sir, am I needed?”
“Murdoch, you look like death warmed over! And why is it so bloody dark in there?”
“So sorry, the light was giving me a headache, I will admit to feeling not quite myself this morning.”
“This morning? It’s afternoon! There is no sense in you being here in this state. Go home and sleep it off, Yeah?” He clapped Murdoch on the shoulder, prompting the detective to once again rub lightly at the base of his neck. George noticed the accompanying wince.
“That shouldn’t be necessary, sir, I am sure I can last out the day.”
“I’m sure you can too, but go home just the same. You’re married to a doctor after all, I’m sure she would agree with me. Get some rest me ol’ mucker.”
“Very well, but please contact me if I am needed, I’m sure this is just a simple cold.”
Brackenreid waved him off but kept an eye on his detective as he gathered his hat to leave. “Psst! Crabtree!” he motioned for George, who stepped closer. “Make sure he gets home, eh? The last thing I need is for that fool to collapse on his bicycle and cause an accident or something. Dr. Ogden would have my hide.”
“Absolutely sir, consider it done.”
As the detective passed him, George noticed a small red patch on the collar of his normally pristine white shirt. “Are you injured?” he inquired, gesturing to the rusty stain.
Murdoch touched the spot lightly. “Injured, George?”
“Yes sir, there’s blood…”
“Hmm, must not have been careful enough with the razor this morning; it’s nothing.”
“If you say so, sir.”
Murdoch pulled open the station door and squinted at the weak sunlight as though blinded. Just behind him, George saw him wobble a bit as he started down the steps towards his bicycle.
“Maybe we should take a carriage.“ George suggested. “I can bring your bicycle around later, perhaps.”
Detective Murdoch looked like he wanted to argue, but George’s concerned tone and his own throbbing head made him reconsider. “Not a bad idea, George. Though I do not need a minder, I will be just fine unattended.”
“Ahh, Inspector’s orders sir, and a chance to leave my desk is hardly the worst thing, it’s been rather uneventful at the station today.”
“Very well, but I feel you’re both making too much of it.”
The carriage ride was uneventful, Detective Murdoch being even less prone to small talk than usual, so George took the opportunity to let his mind wander. Something important seemed to be tugging at him, but he couldn’t quite pin it down. Something about the detective’s symptoms….
The carriage came to a stop. “Here we are sir!” George hopped out of the carriage first, and held the door. Murdoch passed by George on his way to the house and George got a much closer look at his friend’s neck, which was bleeding a little freer. “Sir, you really should tend to that,” he motioned to the wound, “I don’t think it should still be bleeding.”
“Hmm, yes,” Murdoch touched his neck and his fingers came back with streaks of red. “Perhaps it is a bite of some kind, mosquito, or spider perhaps. I don’t actually remember. I must have scratched it though.”
Thoughts were solidifying in George’s mind—it looked too big to be a mosquito—a bite? Followed by exhaustion, listlessness? The paleness…and a sensitivity to sunlight?—
“I’ll be fine George, hopefully I will see you tomorrow, good as new.”
George had opened his mouth to voice his shocking suspicion, but closed it again, “Yes, of course sir, feel better.” No sense in sharing any of his… ahem—wilder-- theories with Detective Murdoch—best keep this to himself for now.
Still, the return trip to the station house was spent mentally reviewing what he knew of vampires, and ways to tell if someone had been attacked by one. ‘The detective was fine just yesterday, wasn’t he?’ George thought as he began searching his memories of the last few days for clues. There hadn’t been any cases of death by suspicious blood loss recently, and Detective Murdoch had seemed alright… he had mentioned Julia though, something about her coming home exhausted and skipping dinner. ‘What if she was under attack too! He had to figure out if he was on the right track!’
Unfortunately, Detective Murdoch was usually the one who helped him find the most likely scenario behind the more fantastical possibilities, and that option was currently closed. Higgins would be no help at all, and George could very clearly imagine the Inspector’s reaction to that sort of “malarkey”.
Back at work, George resolved to imagine the detective’s counter-argument. All of the symptoms could be explained by any of several minor illnesses-- the flu, or a cold. And if Dr. Ogden had caught something at the hospital, then of course it made sense for her husband to have come down with it as well. Just because they weren’t sick often didn’t mean this was anything sinister. But the bite! Bites were not contagious, although George supposed that it could be a coincidence, or Dr. Ogden’s condition was unrelated and Detective Murdoch was ill because of the bite. If so he was sure Dr. Ogden would make that connection, or the detective himself, for that matter.
But the part of George that remained open-minded about the supernatural had to pipe up, wasn’t it the same thing really? Getting bitten by a mosquito was just getting bitten by a very small vampire. And while the mosquito was a far more likely culprit, the bite was so large…if there was any chance this could be the work of a vampire he had to know! Because everything he had learned about the blood- drinking undead told him that vampires didn’t stop. They fed until their victims died—or worse—became vampires themselves!
The thought of William Murdoch, devout Catholic and staunch policeman turning into a creature of the night, well it was just horrible! And, George thought with increasing dread, someone so smart, so capable, well they would be diabolical if turned! Unstoppable!
The remainder of the work day has passed while George was deep in thought; as he turned to look out the window at the fast approaching fall twilight, he shivered. He owed it to his friend to make sure such a thing wasn’t happening!
His shift ended, George gathered his things. Leaving the building he spotted the detective’s bicycle by the door and remembered his promise to bring it round. ‘Perfect!’ George thought, he would have an excuse to pay a visit to the Murdoch home and investigate further. Although, he was having a little difficulty figuring out how exactly he would be able to rule out vampirism, he supposed he could ask if either William or Julia had seen an usually large bat in the area, or been seized with a sudden bout of sleepwalking; maybe the vampire was lurking nearby, and they would be able to tell him if a neighbor had been acting odd…
George looked up and noticed for the first time just how dark it had grown, and how the tree’s shadows looked more menacing than usual. He pulled the collar of his constable jacket tighter around his throat and walked on, wheeling the bicycle beside him and trying not to think about how vulnerable he would be to anything watching from the tree line.
‘Where was everyone?’ he thought, palms starting to sweat. The sudden desire to get this over with had George jumping on the bicycle and taking off at speed, eager to feel less like a sitting—or walking—duck.
Once the detective’s house was in view, George dismounted, and noted from the softly glowing side window that someone was up and about. Opting to place the bicycle around the side of the house and out of sight from the street before knocking, George had just done so when the curtains to living room window drew back, revealing Dr. Ogden, illuminated by moonlight and low lamplight. Not wanting to startle her, George retreated a bit, out of her line of sight, deciding to wait until she turned to pass by the window again. He knew from her view he would be nothing but a dark figure and he feared she would think him a lurker and raise the alarm.
Any sense of awkwardness dissolved immediately when Dr. Ogden opened her mouth, and the moonlight glinted off two long, sharp, white fangs….
“Sweet mother of--!” George whispered to himself. There was no doubt about it, he was definitely seeing what he had truly hoped was impossible. Julia reached up probe lightly at the right canine, then tested the sharpness with the tip of her tongue. Cold, itching horror filled the pit of George’s stomach, horror that only grew when Detective Murdoch appeared behind his wife, moving silently to wrap his arms around her. A white bandage was visible on his neck, and George noticed it barely contrasted with the pallor of his skin.
Julia opened the window, causing George to flatten himself against the outer wall and pray she didn’t turn her head and spot him. He could hear them now, but couldn’t see them; their voices were low and affectionate though, and straining his ears, George could just make out their conversation.
“Feeling better, William?”
“A bit, I slept like the dead.”
“I know darling, I’m not surprised. But the rest is what you need. Another day of it too. Then you’ll feel much better.”
William sighed, “I suppose I will defer to your judgment. And may I ask how you are managing with the fangs?”
George’s eyes bulged—He knew! He saw the fangs, and didn’t seem the least bit alarmed that his wife was a vampire! George stood, rooted to the spot and frozen with shock.
“Surprisingly well, actually, they are quite comfortable. I don’t think you will have any trouble them, William.”
“Good to hear, when should I--?”
“Oh, the day after tomorrow maybe? I will be here to help you with the process. How do you think they look?”
“They suit you.”
George heard Julia’s delighted laugh.
“I mean it,” he continued,” you are always beautiful of course—“
“Flatterer.”
“—but I don’t find them off putting at all.”
“Oh William, how sweet! I think they will suit you as well, I can’t wait till we are a matched set! Although…” she added seductively, “they may make kissing a little more …dangerous.”
William’s reply was low and muffled, but it prompted Julia to giggle, then moan.
“William, stop that! Back to bed with you, before you tempt me to nibble on the other side of your neck.”
“Mmm, two more days, then I’ll return the favor.”
“I welcome it.” Julia said before closing the window and drawing the curtain, ending George’s ability to hear or see the couple any more.
George’s knees were threatening to give out, she was going to turn him! His best friend was doomed! It was probably already too late for Dr. Ogden, but he could still do something, couldn’t he? He would have to, or who knew who they would turn next?!