The Awakening (A Sherlock/Moriarty Vampire Fic - Canon AU)

Chapter Two

     "Sherlock, would you please slow down. I'm so tired I feel like about to fall over," John said.
     Sherlock sighed and halted. He jacket collar concealed his mouth as he looked over his shoulder. His annoyance melted when he saw how tired he really was. His eyes were half lidded and his shoulders were drooping.
     John's gave a strained thank you. He kept his pace slower this time. That he'd done it was a sign that he cared. They had used the elevator to go down four floors and the change had been immediate. The walls 'nor hallway were sterile white.
     The walls were neutral gray and the floors, off-white mixed with faded orange. They passed an aged gurney against the wall and a few rarely used offices with large glass windows.
     Sherlock's phone rang and he dug it out of his large coat pocket. He halted and curious, John stopped to watch him. "Molly-Molly... what's wrong," he said. His right arm had bent, like he was reaching out for comfort. John unknowingly moved a fraction towards it, but they didn't touch.
     At the change in Sherlock's expression John tilted his head. There was an intensity that anyone else would've assumed was anger, but John could tell he was confused. Very confused. Sherlock said, "I'm already on my way. I'll be there in a minute." He hung up, still looking confused.
     "Well," John said.
     Looking unfocused he said, "Molly said that... Moriarty... is alive."
     An amused sound came from John and he said, "That's impossible. We both saw the body. He's dead. Why would she say such a thing?"
     "I know, and I have no idea." He looked at him and said, "But something's wrong." Shock had kept him from immediately rushing that way. His eyes focused and he was back to himself, sharp gaze, determined, and then his burst of movement had John moving as quickly as him. The Morgue had double metal enforced doors.
     They pushed them open and froze. Wide-eyed they saw him. Moriarty, the man who relished in playing deadly games with Sherlock. The Psychopath felt no remorse for killing innocent people. He was no longer corpse pale and his wounds were gone.
     He was wearing light blue Scrubs and his feet were bare. Molly sat on a slab, two over from his. Looking at them she turned her cellphone nervously over in her hands. Her left sleeve hung in tatters, revealing her shoulder. Gauze was taped to it.
     "Oh, my God," John said hurrying towards her.
Sherlock glanced at them and then turned a glare towards Moriarty. "Did he do this? What happened," he heard John say.
     "Hi," Moriarty said in that sing-songy way he'd done when they'd first met. This time his face wasn't blank. His eyebrows were raised, his eyes glistened like they'd done when he'd played Jim from I.T., and his smile didn't reach them. It was more of a grimace that made him look... embarrassed.
     "How is this possible," Sherlock said.
     John said, "You son of a-"
     "No need to be nasty," Moriarty said.
     Sherlock looked at them. Molly was covering her shoulder and John had a hand on her arm. He looked like he wanted to kill him.
     "I didn't do it on purpose. How was I supposed to know I'd come back from the dead, and needing blood no less."
     "Molly, what's he talking about," John said.
     Sherlock looked at Moriarty. His face appeared strained, like he was holding back from showing dramatic offense. His voice was breathy from disbelief, but his eyes sparkled with intense curiosity when he said, "You were dead, though."
     Sighing, Moriarty rolled his eyes. "I was," he said.
     "Then how-"
     "I don't know. If I did..." He made an amused noise. "I have no idea where I was going with that sentence. I honestly don't know."
     "I mean, there was that little bit about a vampire abducting me and keeping me captive for eight months. Maybe it had something to do with that." He looked way too amused.
     "Vampires? That's-"
     "I know, right?" He looked at Molly and Sherlock's nostril's flared. He went to her and blocked her from sight.
     "Sherlock," he heard Molly say, and then he felt her hand on his shoulder. He turned to look at her. Except what was hidden by the gauze she had no visible wounds. He said, "What did he do to you?"
     "He's not joking. He is a vampire," she said.
     His head shook jerkily, because he didn't know how to respond.
     "I know it's crazy, but he has fangs. I saw them and he bit me. He actually drank my blood."
     "That's..." Even John couldn't respond.
     "I said I was sorry," Moriarty said. He sounded like he meant it, but there was an underlying amusement, like he couldn't himself.
     Looking at him, Sherlock said, "Vampires aren't real. This is some kind of trick. His supposed death was an illusion, and he's getting off on the fact that we fell for it."
     "Oh-ho-ho. I guess you have it all figured out then," Moriarty said in a way that made him hesitate. Vampires weren't real. He really looked at him... and got nothing revealing how he'd fooled them. Compared to how he'd looked in the Flat he looked healthy. His skin was smooth, no visible pores, enough peach in the alabaster tone to show he was alive, his hair had grown out and was thick, his fingernails shined like he'd visited a salon.
     He looked better than he ever had.
     "Prove it," Sherlock said.
     "What?" Moriarty's gaze sharpened, like he was making sure he'd heard him right.
"I said prove it. If you're a vampire, prove it." He smirked and straightened his shoulders.
     "Sherlock, no," Molly said and her fear made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. She'd been attacked, no doubt, and fooled in to thinking he was a vampire. What he'd done to her was sick. He'd stabbed her shoulder, but not with actual fangs. It just wasn't possible.
     Customized dentures, perhaps.
     Moriarty fluidly pushed himself off the slab and landed on his feet. He straightened his shoulders and Sherlock was unnerved by his confidence. He said, "Just remember, you asked for this." There was no warning. Moriarty was two Slabs down and then he was a hairs-breath away.
     He watched as his light brown irises were drowned by the full expansion of his pupil's. His own eyes had widened. Moriarty didn't blink - it was more unnerving than when Molly had told him not to agg him on. He couldn't stop a gulp. Moriarty was shorter than him, so he had to look up at him.
     He raised his head more and Sherlock could feel his breath on his lips. He said, "I bet you're wondering how." His mouth moved a couple times, but no response came. "Yes, of course you don't know what to say. I am a vampire."
     "Vampires aren't real," he reflexively said and it came out low. Shock kept him from being angry at the obvious weakness.
     He opened his arms and said, "And yet, here I am." Like an animal he tilted his head and stared. He still hadn't blinked. Sherlock held himself tall, refusing to back down. Moriarty leaned closer and he had the impulse to move back.
     He didn't.
     Moriarty did something that made his nerves prickle with caution. He closed his eyes and slowly inhaled. The sound of his voice startled him. He said, "Mm, your scent is... mouth watering, Sherlock."
     "My scent," he said without emotion. He didn't believe he was a vampire. Somehow, this was all a trick. Being wary was logical, but he couldn't help being intrigued. Human Interest was a guilty pleasure, and Moriarty was different than ninety-eight percent of the population.
     He opened his eyes and they were heavy, like he was... No. "You're body heat is higher than most, you're male so there's a large salt content to your skin, and there's something light to your scent. Do you use floral body wash?" He gave him a teasing smile.
     Sherlock's raised his chin.
     "You do, don't you. That's delicious. Also, you're iron is a little low. You should probably take vitamins. It's from all that thinking and not eating."
     "That's bad for you, Sherlock."
     A throat cleared.
     Sherlock's eyes flicked to the side. "Yes, John?"
     "What is happening? Molly has been attacked and we're sitting here... doing... what ever it is the two of you are doing."
     "I'm fine, really," Molly said.
     "No you're not. This entire situation is insane. I'm calling Lestrad."
     Sherlock was pushed out of the way and nearly fell. He grabbed the middle slab, making it roll a little forward. Moriarty had taken John's phone away. John swung at him and he grabbed his arm. He spun him around and pushed him in Sherlock.
     They both fell, Molly gasped and cowered to the side. Moriarty was now standing beside her. His attention was only on them though. He said, "I told you, vampire."
     Sherlock and John used each other to get to their feet. They were both breathing hard. Silence stretched out. Sherlock said, "If you really are a vampire, and I still don't believe it, but if you are, then why are you still here?"
     "To kill us," John said.
     Moriarty snorted. "If I wanted to kill you I'd of already done it."
     "He also could've killed me," Molly said. Her eyes immediately widened and she covered her mouth.
     "Taken up for me now, darling," Moriarty said. She had gone stiff. He smiled endearingly at her.
     "Leave her out of this," John said.
     He looked at him and his smile melted, like he was sorry for making her uncomfortable. Sherlock blinked rapidly. "Why are you acting this way, repressing," he said.
     "Repressing, me? Please." That smile was back. "So, where do we go from here, boys? I'm done playing."
     "I need help. As you know, I've recently become a vampire and I can't... I need blood, but I can't..." He growled and turned away.
     With raised eyebrows John looked at Sherlock, whose expression was less expressive. They were both thinking: What the hell is going on? They looked back and Moriarty was angrily talking to himself. He crossed his hands and flicked them out, like he was cutting himself off. Facing them, looking dramatically bemused, he said, "No more of that."
     He studied Sherlock's expression and his own went from bemused to pleased. He said, "You're curios... about the fangs, I mean. You don't think they're real, so do it... check my orifice."
     John made a face, because Moriarty was being, well, gross, but more suggestive than usual. The sound of Sherlock's moving shoe on the floor made him look at him. Looking prepared to fight, he watched him go to Moriarty and stop. Sherlock is tall, so he had to move over to see. Moriarty wiggled the fingers on one hand, prompting Sherlock to give him one of his.
     "What if he tries to bite your finger off," John said quickly.
     "Ew, don't be gross," Moriarty said.
     "Me, gross? Molly said you drank her blood and you're calling me gross."
     He looked unhappy at his words. His attention went back to Sherlock and he said, "Come on. You want to see up-close, so I'm letting you. It's not often I let people touch me, much less my mouth."
     Standing tall, chin raised, with arms crossed behind his back, Sherlock looked every bit the emotional detached man he proclaimed to be. John watched him give Moriarty his hand. He arranged his fingers to grip his jaw, then he opened his mouth to reveal his top set of teeth. There was a stalled second and then Sherlock's chin raised a little higher. He let go of his jaw and took a step back.
     Moriarty's head adjust to normal height and a rivulet of blood ran over his bottom lip. It dripped off and he caught it. "Like I said, vampire," he said around the rest of the blood in his mouth. More of it dripped in to his hand. He went to the large basin sink and washed his hands.
     As he swished water around his mouth, Sherlock said, "You had retractable teeth implanted?"
     Moriarty spit the water out and let out a 'Ha'. He faced him and said, "No. Something like that could malfunction and destroy my jaw... or end up in my eyes... or worse, my brain. Besides, I'm not even sure something like that exists." Smiling, he dried his hands on his pants. The blue Scrubs became darker where water was left behind.
     "Then how-"
     "Oh, come on. Your repetitiveness is starting to bore me. What is it you always say? When you've eliminated the impossible, what ever remains, however improbable, must be the truth." Walking towards him he said, "Any other questions?"
     "Concerns? Observations that need to be made? Would you like me to break your arm? How about your leg?" He looked at John and said, "What about his?"
     John's head tilted in way that meant he was nervous, but prepared to fight if he had to. Moriarty smiled and it grew as Sherlock stepped in front of him. Sherlock said, "Leave him out of this."