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After a full week of doing his rather dull work as a scout, the weekend could not have come faster for Sherlock Holmes. A late night full of reading, studying whatever material he saw fit, and lounging in his small room. It was equivalent to heaven in his eyes. Finally settled on the thin bed he had, back against the wall, he picked one of the many books laid out next to him and started to read.
Not even past one sentence, a sharp knock sounded at his door. He groaned, willing the unwanted guest to disappear, but after a few more seconds of knocking, Sherlock drew himself to his feet and swung the door open, to present….
No one?
“Hello Shirley.”
Sherlock spun on his heel and turned to face James Moriarty, the one person he had been hoping to avoid, perched on his bed similarly to how Sherlock had been moments before.
“Hello James.” Sherlock sighed, rubbing his temples. “What could you want at this hour?”
“A request. You know, man to man, things friends do for eachother? A little debt you may owe me? A small favour? A teeny, tiny, meaningless ask?”
“Cut to the point James, you’re wasting what could’ve been a peaceful evening.”
“Anything for a friend, right? ”
“James.”
“I need to feed off of you.”
Sherlock’s hand flew to his neck, grazing the fading bite marks on it delicately.
“No. Not again.” Sherlock replied curtly, turning away from James to look at the oak door James had appeared from.
“You don’t seem to understand, Sherlock. I need to. Just why not? This one time?” James almost whined from his comfortable position on Sherlock’s bed.
“There’s so many reasons! There’s that weird tension when you did it..,”
“So just because there’s a sexual tension between us you won’t let me eat?”
“Don’t say it like that, just- No! It hurt the first time, and if you keep drinking you’ll get addicted!”
“You’ve been doing your homework have you Shirley?” James asked in a rewarding tone.
“Yes, because I wanted to prevent this very situation happening! There’s wildlife all around, can’t you drink from that?!” Sherlock replied , running a hand through his dishevelled hair.
“Well,” James said as he stood up and faced Sherlock, inches apart. “If you’d done it properly, you’d know once a vampire starts to feed off of the sweet pleasures of human blood, it’s hard to stop. So?”
“So NO, James! Good night.”
Sherlock tried to walk past him to his bookshelf, but was held back by James’ strong hand holding his wrist, pulling him back in a swift motion.
“Now, Sherlock. I’ve tried to be polite, and I’ve tried to ask you kindly, but if you don’t want to cooperate, I’ll find other means of feeding off humans, means that will not work well in your favour. I ask again. So?”
Sherlock stood still. A difficult situation. Usually, he thrived in difficult circumstances , but this was different. This actually put his life at risk. Utilitarianism - a moral theory in normative ethics which dictates that the most ethical action is the one that maximizes happiness and well-being, and minimizes suffering for the greatest number of people. So, in theory, letting Moriarty drink his blood would be the greater good?
….
“Fine.” Sherlock muttered after a few minutes of silence.
“What was that, Shirley?” James asked with a teasing tinge in his voice.
“I said fine,” Sherlock answered in a low voice as he started to unbutton his shirt, slipping the fabric off his shoulders smoothly. “But I’m not wearing my shirt. You got blood all over it last time.”
James eyes were like saucers, lit up with the brightness of a thousand suns. He ran his tongue over the sharpness of his fangs, a deep yearning in his stomach as he watched Sherlock.
‘This was just hunger. Not lust,’ he thought to himself ‘This was predatory, not loving.’
Or whatever else he had to say to quench his feelings..