Nothing You Could Do

Sherlock lay on the couch; his half lidded eyes stared up at the ceiling. His belt was wrapped around his arm, a needle jabbed into the crease in his elbow. He had only resorted to drugs after exhausting all of his other boredom relievers. The vampire had run out of blood and wasn't going to start a new experiment when he was having so much fun with the powerful substance running through his veins. He had gone a little loopy. Now he was back to his old habits. He smiled dazedly, humming a mindless tune. The door to the flat opened. Lazily, he turned his head and squinted at the door trying to see who it was

John opened the door to the flat, prepared with his the blood he had taken from work for his flat mate, and he swung his coat off, letting out a small sigh as he concentrated on getting out the blood. Sherlock had been turned of course, but hadn't wanted to stop living normally. John had agreed to this, but made sure that there was something for him in return. Sherlock would not kill innocent people, and he would let John watch out for him. Speaking of the bugger, John looked up, and froze, blood bag in his hand. Was that-?

"Sherlock Jesus fucking Christ what is wrong with you," he snapped, dropping the bag to the floor and storming over to the vampire. He had to be careful now, and instead of ripping the needle out of the brunet’s hands he stood at Sherlock’s head, arms crossed and waiting for an explanation. He didn't know how out of it Sherlock was, but he was about to find out.

Sherlock's eyes rolled around on their sockets as he tried to focus on his human flat mate. His vision was distorted; all he could see was vague shapes and colors. He could smell blood and hear the slightly elevated heartbeat of his friend. "Mmmm' fine, John." Sherlock murmured, the doctor finally came into focus and Sherlock almost shrank back. The needles sticking out of his arm didn't take away the pain of knowing John was afraid of him. He could see it in the man's eyes and how he stood a little further back than usual. Sherlock hated it, his own flat mate treating him like a monster, he was though. That's why Sherlock started using again; he couldn't handle seeing the judgment in his eyes. "Very fine..."

"That's a load of bullshit and you know it." The doctor snapped, tongue darting out to brush his bottom lip. He tried to slow his rapid breathing, and swallowed a few times to stop from gagging. He had seen Sherlock like this once before, in his human form, and it had been overwhelming. While he had to deal with those types of people at work, he never wanted it to happen with Sherlock. "Put the bloody needle on the floor so I can kick your arse," he growled, still not moving forward.

Sherlock shook his head and whined. "I don't wanna! You don't let me have any fun anymore. I can't even go out in the sun! Just let me have this." He slurred, staring past the man and straight at his skull on the mantle. He found he was bored way more often now he was a vampire. Sherlock just wished he hadn't been there on that night, wrong place at the wrong time and he paid for it with his human life. Now he was just a monster and he was lucky Mycroft hadn't shipped him off to Baskerville.

John let out a frustrated noise. "Too bloody bad." He snapped, stepping forward now and getting to his knees by Sherlock’s head. He had steeled himself mentally, and he tilted his head. "You either take the needle out yourself," he hissed through his teeth, maintaining a surprising level of confidence, "Or I wrestle it from you. The easy way or the hard way." The blond shrugged. "Your choice." Sherlock’s eyes should have been bloodshot, but they weren't, and John could see the veins in Sherlock’s arms but they weren't red and angry. They were a lax blue color. A dead color. John blinked, and waited for the vampire to make his decision.

Sherlock mulled it over for a few moments, looking into John's hard blue eyes. "Mmmkay." He mumbled, removing the needle and undoing the belt. He was still high and wouldn't be coming down for a while. He just couldn't deal with it all and drugs were his only escape. "Why are you such a big meanie?" He demanded, falling into a more childish state. He stuck out his tongue and felt his fangs descend so he decided to add them to the mix. He flashed them at his flat mate as well, attempting to growl but it came out as a more pathetic purr.