The Vampire and the Hunter

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A/N So this is set in the Supernatural universe but there are no mention of those characters, I reference the Men of Letters a bit and the lore I use is the same lore that the show uses so those of you who haven't seen Supernatural won't be too lost. TRIGGER WARNING!!!!! Mentions of suicide attempts and impulses. Let me know what you think of this story and if you want more of these characters. If you guys want more of them I will start a book of stories about their adventures. Enjoy<3

Sherlock was terrified. He didn't remember anything and his head was killing him. He stumbled through the dark street, pulling on his dark curls and trying to find the answers in his mind palace. He could only see white. His own mind was closed to him and he couldn't unlock it. His ears were ringing and it felt as though his veins were flowing with white-hot flame. He felt a sharp stinging emanating from his right wrist and shooting up to his shoulder. He felt a pang of fear as this registered, remembering that one time in high school when he had slit his wrists. He tore at his sleeve, trying to see the damage. All that was there was a series of small holes. They looked almost like a bite mark, same pattern but shaped more like cuts from a sharp, pointed blade. The fire in his veins got irrationally hotter and he stumbled against a nearby wall, biting back a cry. He was sweating and panting, unable to control his heart rate.

He fought through the fog of pain and thought through the events of the night. He had been working a case, a series of murders, something intriguing about them. What was it? He couldn't remember. He was chasing someone, they were fast. A dark alley, he was jumped. That was all he could recall.

"Oi mate, you alright," Sherlock felt his whole body tense as he turned to the voice. A young woman stood at the entrance to the alley, using the light on her phone to see Sherlock. "I am a doctor, do you need any help?" As the woman spoke, she stepped closer to Sherlock and a slight breeze picked up. Sherlock caught scent of something that sent his head reeling. He spun to face the girl, nearly stumbling over his own feet as he did. The smell was coming from her. He hissed as the harsh light from the phone, throwing his hands over his face. Why was she using a flashlight? It wasn't that dark. The smell hit him harder and he felt a sharp pain in his gums. He cried out as the pain increased, it felt like razors were being dragged through the tender flesh. He reached up to feel his mouth, checking for blood but found something far worse. There were new teeth sprouting in front of his old ones.

What is happening to me? He thought as he shook his head, looking at the woman once more. He was suddenly irrationally hungry. He needed something; he needed whatever it was that smelled so damned good. The hunger cleared his mind instantaneously and he stalked towards the girl. His vision cleared and became sharper than ever. He felt new strength rushing through his muscles and he reached for the young woman, grabbing her by the elbow and throwing her harshly against the brick wall. She shrieked at his action and the sound ricocheted around his skull, causing him to wince. He silenced her with a harsh slap across the face. She whimpered and tried to fight his grip. He pressed himself against her and inhaled her scent deeply, his eyes drawn to the vein pulsing on her neck.

"What is your name?" He asked, trying to buy time to figure out what he wanted from her.

"M-Molly, M-Molly H-Hooper," She whined, her mousy voice grating against his nerves. "Please, let me go. I won't tell anyone I promise, I don't have any friends and no family-" He slapped her again, her voice was so harsh.

"Well Molly Hooper, it looks like you are my perfect victim." He whispered in her ear, the pain in his veins but a faint throbbing as he kissed the pulse point on her pale neck. His words sounded muffled and distorted through the new teeth. He heard shuffling and started to turn to see who was interrupting them when he felt someone grab his hair and force him off the girl. He tried to fight but felt the familiar sting of a needle sink into the vein in his neck. Almost immediately he felt as though his limbs weighed a thousand pounds, falling back into the arms of whoever had drugged him.

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