A/N: HEY! This is a COMPLETELY different story than any of my other stories. It is actually dedicated to my sister and best friend: Doctor Fiolee. She saw the picture i am using as my cover and begged me to write this! I can't say no to her so i typed this up in about an hour and she loved it so i hope you do too. It's a very different writing style like the theme is horror and i don't usually do stuff like this which is why i'm keeping it a one-shot. MUST CLICK ON COVER TO UNDERSTAND STORY WELL! DO IT NOW! And actually, i personally NEVER pictured this side of Sherlock and never want there to be, but my vampish sister does and i myself am not comfortable with this story but anyways...

Read. Review. Favor. Enjoy.

John was standing, peeking rather, around the alleyway on a cold London night. John had spent months with Sherlock; he knew how he acted, what he wore and what he ate. John knew Sherlock too well, but what he was doing now was more than volatile, more than disgusting, completely unexpected.

He stood in horror as he watched Sherlock on his knees on the wet sidewalk, as he had mentioned, John was very familiar with Sherlock's diet; whatever he was eating was NOT on his regular menu.

John nearly threw up as he did it again, not daring to say a word or to tell Sherlock to stop in fear of being his next victim.

Sherlock sunk his teeth into her neck; she was crying earlier, crying a lot. She stopped now, I mean… people don't cry when their dead.

Sherlock let the blood drip off his two razor sharp teeth as he licked them clean then proceeded to drink more of the red substance. John winced as he heard the sound of flesh breaking as Sherlock took yet another sip of the girl's blood. The girl was Molly and Sherlock was insane.

Lestrade and many others were as shocked and as scared to hear about Sherlock's madness as John was. Though Sally and Anderson wouldn't buy it, no matter how much they hated Sherlock they couldn't accept the fact that Sherlock was a blood-sucking murderer. Murderer? Yes. Vampish murderer? No.

Sherlock had been blood-thirsty for days, he was on a rampage. His eyes firey red, his scarf and teeth smothered in red stains.

Sherlock ran out of 221B Baker Street 3 nights ago, full of rage but an evil smirk spread across his face. Mrs. Hudson and John were equally terrified because the creepiness in his eyes was an expression they had never felt or seen from the detective.

Every day there would be a few bodies lying around the streets of London with several incisions in the neck and face. After so much blood loss, the victims would die and Sherlock would be satisfied. The police would come, but Sherlock would be long gone by then, lurking in the shadows for his next prey to approach; Sherlock was a nightmare.

The stress of all this was driving John nearly insane, he had to find his partner and he HAD to talk to him. So he left his flat at around 1 am that night (working with a great detective you learn a thing or two on how to track people) and he traced Sherlock. He was afraid of Sherlock the first night but expected him to return, and when he didn't, John got suspicious. He hadn't been able to speak to him in a few days and he thought maybe if he did, it would bring him to his senses; before he killed anyone else. No, John had no idea how or why or where this cannibalistic Sherlock came from but he could not stand it any longer.

His one and only best friend was now a monster, sinking his teeth into poor Molly and eating small bits of flesh. No one in the right mind could ever imagine Sherlock doing such a thing.

Sherlock stood up, blood on his hands, teeth, and lips. His licked his lips once again as if he had just eaten sweet chocolate, though he smirked to himself deviously. Sherlock chuckled and left Molly on the cold ground as he started walking away and turned his collar up when John stopped him.

"Shh… Sherlock!" he hesitated as he jumped out of the alley and stood just about 3 meters distance.

Sherlock spun on his heels as fast as lightning and sent his blazing eyes into Johns; John shuddered as he felt the creepy vibe to his spine.

"John… My good Fri—oh wait, "he chuckled deeply, "I don't have any…"

"Yes you do! You have me! Let me help you!" John begged, "Something's wrong with you, I am a doctor and I can—WILL," he corrected himself, "help you! You have a friend, you have me!"

"So what?" He shrugged rudely, "the police won't know I HAD a friend…"

"Had?" John asked.

Sherlock cackled deeply and revealed his red fangs; he stepped closer to John, "I say 'had' because when they find you… you won't be alive…" Sherlock widened his mouth and aimed straight for Johns neck and—

"HUH!" John shot up and gasped for air. He looked side-to-side and analyzed his surroundings; he was in his bedroom. Still in Baker Street, safe and sound, or so he hoped.

He tiptoed out of his room and into the kitchen; he looked right to left to see if the blood hungry vicious Sherlock was around thinking somehow he had been saved last night. He walked slowly towards his laptop and sat in his chair, examining the area.

"Hello John."

"AHHHHH!" he jumped and fell out of his wooden seat. He stood up to see Sherlock in his a navy blue shirt and typical black attire with a cup of coffee in his hands.

"You're up later than usual." Sherlock glanced at the clock: 10:47AM., "why is that?"

John's legs shook in fear and his face had the same expression. Sherlock looked at him with curiosity, wondering why he was so afraid; it was just a Thursday morning.

"O…open your mouth…" John stuttered nervously.

Sherlock shot him a strange look, "why?—"

"Just do it!" John quickly replied. Sherlock opened wide, wondering…

John heaved in relief, as he saw normal human teeth; he spun and sat on the couch. He pressed his temples and closed his eyes.

"By the looks of it you've had a terrible dream," Sherlock read him, "Afghanistan?" He asked simply as he sat down next to John.

"Just…" John chuckled realizing that the deadly Sherlock was all just a nightmare, "oh… oh Jesus… No, honestly it was much worse," he sighed and smiled to himself though still wondering how he had come across such a dream.

"If not that, then I'm assuming it had something to do with those Vampire and Zombie movies that retched girl you've been dating made you watch last night," Sherlock sat in his praying-like position and smirked.

"How... how did you..." john stuttered.

Sherlock sat up straight and looked at John,
"Well judging by the dark circles under your eyes you've either had anxiety or lack of sleep and lack of sleep has to be out of the question considering you woke up far later than usual. Though to wake up far later than usual you'd have to be SLEEPING far later than usual and the only reason you would be up so late is if you were with one of your girlfriends and like I said the dark circles under your eyes said you did not enjoy whatever happened last night and the only reason you wouldn't enjoy a night with your girlfriend is if it was a scary; a scary movie and a bad dream. My theory was confirmed when you asked to see my teeth meaning you had a dream about vampires and I happened to be one of them. Would you like me to describe what happened when I was the bloody vampire?" Sherlock smirked.

John chuckled to himself, "no thank you..." he recalled the terrible movies he had seen and reminded himself to break up with her later.

"Now get dressed, we've got a case" Sherlock added.

The consulting detective walked to the kitchen and John walked to the restroom to get started for the day. Sherlock picked up a steel glass and saw his reflection, he quickly wiped the red stain on his scarf; then looked up and smiled wickedly.

A/N: Creeped out a bit? I know its April and this is more of a... October story but i just couldn't wait to post it. Oh ya thumbs-up if you liked the whole horror movie ending type thing :) hehehe sneaky me... lol well please review of this dark new creepy side of Sherlock! THANKS IF YOU EVEN READ THIS! GOOD DAY TO YOU ALL!