Crimson (Vamplock Fanfic)

Chapter 12

Sherlock

It's been three days since the incident and three days since John was awake. I stay by his bedside and never leave, only getting up to pace or replace the wood in the fire to keep the room warm for John.

I sat next to him, feeling the icy cold touch of his hand as I grasped it and sighed.

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*flashback*

I layed him down in the bed, his body still convulsing and trying to rid of the poison. He could barely catch his breath, making inhuman noises and grunts as a means to cover for the pain. I looked to the wound on his neck. It began to pulsate with the blood still pouring from the teeth marks that Moriarty had left for him. A reminder to me that I was never the monster.

His fingers began to curl inward and form contorted fists. I watched as his eyes turned from the beautiful blue to a dark gold, cascading over the old color with liquid that seemed to pour from his contracted pupil. I stepped back for a moment before running out of the room and yelling for the owner's help; good family friends of ours.

They rushed in, both foreign by the older woman's more traditional clothing of Romania as her grandson wore a plain black shirt with jeans and a medallion of ancient meaning hanging around his neck. I didn't need to explain a thing before they stripped him of his clothing and examined his veins and arteries that were visible to the naked eye.

"This bite is nothing of your kind, it is something more than that. Something...beastly." The older woman's thick Romanian accent quivered, frightened by the extensive damage already done to his body as well as taken aback by the bite. "Can you not identify this scent?" She asked the younger man. He crouched around John, examining him and trying to get the initial scent.

"This is a beast, a beast for which who have wandered these woods for hundreds of years, long before man had any intention of settling here. This is no vampire scent, it is too strong. This is the mark of a werewolf." He gazed to me with worried eyes, seeing John's body lock up and stall like an engine then fall limp.

My mind seized and my thoughts crashed, every wall in my mind palace began to crumble away, keeping my gaze turned to John. He was in pain. I could see it fixed into the permanent onset of his face. He was overtaken by it and couldn't control what it made him do.

"If you want him to live, you have to remove of what's left of the poison that hasn't taken to his blood. You have to mark him, for he would be yours and only yours forever." The younger man warned. I never removed my eyes from John. His body was now taking to the poison. There was barely enough time for a second thought, climbing over him and kissing him gently. Tears ran down my cheeks and my bottom lip trembled. He was mine and only mine, I promised that no harm would come to him. I broke the promise I ensured, now seeing him barely alive and breathing made me want to break. Gently picking up his head from the now-blood-stained pillow, I pressed my forehead to his.

"I'm sorry John."

I tilted his head, feeling my fangs descend, and slowly bit down onto the bite.

I didn't want to kill him. Let alone hurt him.

But his blood was beyond even the most wildest and daring nightmares anybody could experience. It tasted like John. Like his scent. All my thoughts of the meaning of the word control went haywire, descending into borderline insanity.

I was pulled off before I got too far, almost draining him completely of his blood, by the younger man.

"Leave me." The older woman said, banishing me and her son to the outside as she went to work on John.

I couldn't stop pacing. Nervously biting at the skin of my fingertips before the younger man stopped me and handed me a handkerchief to wipe my mouth from the dried blood that covered it.

We were ushered back in to see John laying in the bed, hands neatly folded over his abdomen that was covered by the duvet. From what I could see, he was still naked as he still had no shirt on.

"The first thing to come is the fever. When he awakens from this, he will be brought on by the most terrible fever he's ever experienced. No matter how bad it gets, no matter how much he begs for water, do not give anything to him. As soon as his fever breaks, he immediately needs to feed. There is no substitute for that, he needs to make his first kill or the toxins in his body will kill him. Is all of this understood?" The older woman looked to me with eyes that have seen their fair share of horror and danger all sharing the same concept of beasts and monsters.

I nodded my head, allowing me to sit with him. I took his hand into mine and kissed his knuckles.

"I'm sorry John."

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Another week passed. Another week where I haven't left his side. Not even to feed.

My body began to betray me, growing inhumanly skinny as my face went gaunt from the lack of feeding.

"I thought you might need something." The old woman interrupted my thoughts to hand over a cup with fresh blood. I licked my lips and thanked her for the kind gesture, drinking it down until the very last drop then handing her the cup back as she left the room.

I sat in silence once more. Disturbed by a rustling of the sheets. I looked up to see him.

John was sitting upright and gasping for air, sweat dripping down his chest, face, and back like he was in a sauna or sweat shop. He didn't say a word, only to look to me and his eyes were blown wide in surprise. I shook my head and gently laid him back down, covering him with the duvet up to his chin. His teeth started to chatter and his whole body started to shake. The fever had already set in.

Another three days would pass before the fever started showing signs of breaking. John was still shaking and his teeth were now only mildly chattering, but he was upright and well. I had my John back. It was liberating to see him as my John. Now forever mine.

I would look to momentarily see the mark I left him on his neck. The mark of the bond we now have for eternity. We were mates. I could have nobody else and neither could he. But I didn't want anybody else. He was my one and only; forever.

Once his fever finally broke, I got him dressed in nothing but a pair of ratty sweatpants as he won't be needing them for long where I was taking him.

"Sherlock, what are we doing?" He asked, clinging to me like a child to its mother.

"You'll see."

I took him to the clearing in the forest. The clearing of when he first saw as me the monster I was. And now I get to see the monster he was.

"What are we doing here?" John stopped on a dime, perking his head up high and sniffing the air. I smirked. Letting go of the grasp I had on his hand and stepping back.

"Sherlock-"

"Don't fight it John. Never fight your instincts." I advised, stepping out more towards the treeline and watching him trying to comprehend the idea of what I was trying to tell him.

Before I could wrap my mind around it, he was already running deep into the woods and gone without a trace. I smiled to myself, hearing something new come from somewhere within the woods.

A howl.

A sad and melancholy sound that struck me only as John's. It was him. Though different and new, it was still my John. My mate.

My werewolf.