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I.
Sherlock reached an arm into his jacket and pulled out a wooden object, tossing it aside onto the floor
William couldn't suppress his instinctive flinch at the wooden stake laid before him. Hawthorn, his mind helpfully supplied.
"Something on your mind, Liam?" Sherlock sat patiently as William fussed over bandaging his wrists, keeping pressure on the two symmetrical puncture wounds. He could tell that the other was a smidge distracted.
William hesitated. It should be an insignificant matter, given what he now knew about Sherlock's feelings.
"When you… In the university, when I fell. Why did you pull out the stake, if not to use it against me?" Perhaps it was a way of testing him, but it just seemed rather cruel to do so for that reason. Sherlock wasn't cruel like that. So why?
"Ah…" Sherlock looked away embarrassedly. "Well, hawthorn hurts ya, right? I wasn't sure if 'aving it on my person would hurt ya, so I decided better safe than sorry."
As expected of the mind that worked a mile a minute. In a split second, he had considered if having vampire wards could burn William even through clothes and tossed it before picking him up.
It was a thoughtful gesture.
.
Though, they should probably retrieve it from the university grounds lest people start to suspect a vampire on campus.
II.
"James, I appreciate the offer, I really do. However, I believe we have also established that the blood of a shapeshifter is too potent for us to ingest, even if you take the shape of a human." Looking at the wide-eyed figure next to Bond, William continued with a rueful smile, "That applies to skin-walkers as well. Sorry, Fred."
Moran watched all this happen from the corner of the room and scoffed in poorly-disguised contempt. Not directed at the two shapeshifters or William, but at himself.
His hands were tied.
Lycanthrope blood was deadly to William. It was a known poison to vampires.
His blood was usually drawn to make an anti-venom and thus far Moran had been pleased enough to be useful to William in this way.
But now it grated on his nerves that the very thing that made him useful now left him helpless in the face of William's thirst.
He'd love to put a bullet between that damned Sherlock Holmes' eyes if it didn't mean bringing down the wrath of the hunters.
III.
The pair of them were draped over each other as they made themselves comfortable on the bed.
"Sherly, when did you first suspect that I was a vampire?"
"That very first night." William startled.
Sherlock reached a hand out to run soothingly through his soft blond hair until the tension slowly seeped out of William and he relaxed back into Sherlock's embrace.
"You were too sprightly for someone supposedly staying up late into the night grading papers. You seemed almost energetic to be out in the moonlight."
"Was that all? It seems like quite the assumption to make just based on the circumstances."
"Well," Sherlock drawled, "I did mention the red ink stains on your hands, but there was a spot of red on yer lips."
William groaned in embarrassment. A fledgling mistake.
"Even if ya fell asleep while grading, ink would've gotten on more of yer face than that. 'sides, it was the colour of dried blood."
William buried his face in Sherlock's chest and let out a cry of mortification. He'd never step foot into the world again.
IV.
No, William refused to let his own brothers starve in the same miserable manner as he, insisting that they consume the blood.
William had no intention of letting anyone follow him to the grave.
"Brother Albert, please, make him see reason! He's killing himself like this."
Albert sighed. This was his fault.
He had told Will about the dwindling blood stores in the hope of encouraging him to hunt. Instead, his foolish little brother had decided to take the exact opposite path and stopped drinking completely.
---
"Brother, please stop this madness. Why are you taking this burden all on your own? Aren't we meant to share in our troubles?" Louis cried out in frustration.
"Louis…"
Hands clenched into a tight fist, Louis continued, "I feel you growing distant, brother. When you choose to suffer alone instead of telling us, it feels like you just can't trust us enough…"
At the sight of frustrated tears in his brother's eyes, William deflated. He brushed Louis' bangs away from his face.
"I'm sorry, Louis. I didn't mean to make you feel that way. It's simply my ego…"
"Ego?"
William hummed. "Yes, since this is a problem of my own making, I didn't want to bring you into this. Forgive me, I hadn't meant to make you feel untrusted."
Albert chose this moment to knock on the door.
"Then, Will, I suppose you'll have no problems with us fasting with you? If you insist on this foolishness, then as brothers, we shall all starve together."
The blond in question huffed in exasperation. It seemed his brothers had decided to stage an intervention.
"Very well. I shall drink."
He'd have to find a way around this.
He jauntily made a show of retrieving blood from their storage in front of Louis and Albert, only to return it when no one was watching.
V.
There was a flash of silver under the moonlight, and then Milverton was no more.
A man marched unceremoniously past the door.
"HOLMES! You were supposed to arrest the vampire, not kill him in cold blood. Goddamn, how am I supposed to justify this in the report?"
Sherlock groaned from his position on the couch, bleary from sleep.
"Shove it, Lestrade. The minute the Yard pushed that case onto me, it fell out of your jurisdiction."
"But-"
"Look, the Holmes' are the final authority on anything supernatural. Yer can complain all yer want, but that'll just get you a mocking letter from Mycky and 'is council."
Lestrade sighed. Sherlock was right.
But his superiors at the Yard wouldn't be happy about it.
VI.
"I suppose we're brothers of a kind now, Holmes." Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the audacious statement that escaped the brunet.
"You refer to that relationship between our younger brothers."
Albert smiled knowingly.
Mycroft sighed at the infuriating man before him. He'd always been a thorn in his side, dancing just on the edges of the law but escaping the consequences each time. (He suspected it had something to do with the artful scheming of his younger brother, the professor.)
And then came the news of his diplomatic immunity when he was named an ambassador to the hunters' council.
Prey that taunted him. Prey that he could never catch.
Albert James Moriarty.
A terribly wily vampire.
"Any thoughts on him being together with a vampire?" Albert mused.
"Whatever my brother does is none of my concern. As long as it does not compromise his ability to fulfill his duties, I have no reason to interfere."
A sharp look in Albert's direction. "Of course, if you Moriarty ever give us cause to suspect you…"
"...you'll eliminate us instantly." Albert smirked back.
VII.
Two blonds stared at each other in the hallway.
"Ahem. You must be Doctor John Watson, the supernatural medical consultant. Sherly speaks of you and your work quite fondly." William extended his arm for a handshake.
Sherly?!
John automatically reached back, dumbly shaking his hand.
"I'm William James Moriarty. It's a pleasure to meet you, Doctor Watson."
With pleasantries done, William neatly sidestepped the shell-shocked man and made his way to the kitchen to prepare some tea.
Shortly after, a sleep-rumpled Sherlock emerged from the same room that William had stepped out from.
John hissed, "Sherlock, was that a vampire? What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Sherlock wondered if he should point out that John needn't bother lowering his voice since William would be able to hear them loud and clear regardless. Though, that probably wouldn't help with John's temper at the moment.
"That's Liam. We're seeing each other, 's all."
With that blasé statement, Sherlock ambled over to the kitchen to greet his lover and left John gaping incredulously in the hallway.
He'd left him for a few months and he'd managed to start a relationship with a vampire?
That's it. He'll never leave Sherlock alone again. That man couldn't be trusted to take care of himself.
Good lord, this man would surely drive him to an early grave.