- Hello again lovelies: Some notes:

Most of the first few chapters are all build up to the main story. They explore John's original rebirth as a vampire, several periods of separation, and John's death to stop Moriarty from hurting Sherlock in the 1800s. The main story will begin following the BBC Reichenbach Fall. The dates used will be lose and non-specific.

Some important notes for you here:

1) This story is a mix of ACD and BBC Canon along with AU components
2) Vampire notes:

*Can walk in sunlight but are weaker than mortals when exposed to it directly
*Silver can harm them due to a chemical reaction with their blood
*Possess magic
*Can be killed in the same ways as mortals if they lose too much blood and are exposed to sunlight
*Can father offspring with mortal women
*Creating a new vampire requires a lot of work and permanently transforms the soul of the person turned
*Can be reborn as mortals with hints of memories/blood hunger called Reincarnates
*Based off a personal fiction of my own that I have yet to finish
*Have soulmates that can be found by the blood thread, a specific connection that is felt most deeply by Vampires.

This story features smut, a lot of it and shamelessly. It was originally going to be pure JohnLock but it is shaping up to be so much more and even I am not sure where John's heart will be at the end. It features JohnLock, JohnCroft, MyJohnLock (John focused, not Holmescest), and will have a lot of smut, feels, angst, and hurt/comfort. Please note the vampire back story is MY OWN. From a fiction I am writing.

As always comments/feedback appreciated!-

Tudor England was a sight to see. A society of excess if you were in the right crowds and of deep, crushing misery if you weren't. It was your typical elegant social outing which meant that Sherlock Holmes was bored to tears. His elder brother Mycroft forced him to come along with him, for what purpose he knew not. He was considering the various ways to abandon the entire evening and pursue his own purposes when his eyes fell on a young man that made the blood pound in his ears. John Hamish Watson, the young cousin of the Duke holding this miserable gathering was cautiously avoiding conversation with any of those in attendance. The dark blue outfit he was wearing made him look moderately handsome but he was not interested in attracting anyone. He simply wanted to make sure he didn't embarrass himself. His family lived on a small farm outside of the main portion of the city and he was not used to large gatherings like this. He was awkward and certainly not as elegant and refined as those around him, so he did his best to blend in. As he moved to a balcony to take in some fresh air he was surprised when he felt a prickle on his neck and turned to find a tall, dark haired man with quicksilver eyes walking towards him. He knew the man was the younger son of the Duke's favorite advisor, to be honest he knew many things about the man though he doubted the man repaid the favor. The two had crossed paths several times throughout the last two years but despite John's efforts he'd never been able to enter into friendship with the man. His pale white skin seemed to glow in the moonlight as he stepped quietly onto the balcony, his dark curls reflecting the light in a way John had never before observed. All in all he was striking and John could not withdraw his gaze to save his life.

"Do you not enjoy this sort of event?" Sherlock asked darkly and John knew immediately it was a question of test, he wanted to determine outright if John was even worth his time. He felt obligated to be honest. Sherlock walked towards him slowly, enjoying the sound of silence around them and the look of confusion and desire brewing on the man's face. He understood why his brother had brought him now, because he felt it the sensation of a string connecting the two and pulling them ever closer together.

"No, this is not how I would prefer to pass an evening." He answered honestly before correcting himself. "Though it is a most delightful party." The red velveteen outfit made those quicksilver eyes take on different hues as he looked into them and they were distracting him. He was caught in the man's eyes and felt himself sink into the moment as if nothing else existed. He felt like the forces of nature were slowly pulling them into a powerful orbit around each other. He looked up as Sherlock came to rest just in front of him, his eyes burning down into John's. John's breath was uneven in his chest and he felt a strong desire to give over to the care of this man.

"No, I suppose it is not too terrible." Sherlock's response was soft, in fact John wasn't sure had actually spoken the words. "It is however incredibly boring."

"Ah, that it is." John felt himself blush, that wasn't the proper answer. A smirk hitched on Sherlock's mouth and John found himself overwhelmed by a powerful urge to kiss him. Sherlock's smirk became a smile and John had the suspicion he was reading his mind.

"That blush is gorgeous." The appraisal soared through him and he went even redder.

"T-thank you." He finally pulled his eyes away and looked down. "I do not believe we have spoken before, Lord Holmes." He turned to look out over the grounds, trying to regain his breath.

"Sherlock." He corrected sternly. "No I do not believe we have. However, I do believe that will change starting now." The man's voice was like a purr as he moved even closer to John. John had just long enough to wonder happily if he was going to kiss him, Sherlock's hand sliding towards his face before they heard someone open the doors to the balcony.

"There you are!" A voice exclaimed suddenly and the two men spun to face the voice. The man was just barely taller than John, dark hair and dark eyes. His voice had a strange, unhinged laughing quality to it and he looked like it was Christmas.

"Oh, my apologies!" John snapped but Sherlock registered the hint of fear on his face. "It was Lord Moriarty wasn't it? They did not inform me you arrived." John stepped forward and grasped the man's hand in supplication. "I apologize Lord Holmes, we will have to part our pleasant conversation. I must attend to my duty."

"Yes, do not trouble yourself I have only just arrived." The man's eyes flashed towards Sherlock betraying amusement and something darker. "However I must beg you to come with me, I cannot have my personal attendant hiding in the dark with a man of questionable character."

"I am sorry," John said earnestly. "My Uncle did task me to show you around when you arrived, though he seemed to be of the suspicion you would not arrive in time for the party. Come, I believe you are to meet him and my cousin whom is your intended?" John shuffled back inside and Sherlock found himself pulling in air in a new and different way with the falling silence. It was like part of him was missing. His anger rose sharply, along with some possessive instinct and he had to struggle against the urge to show his true self and steal John away. He growled softly.

"That man is dangerous, brother." Mycroft's voice simply appeared beside him, startling him slightly. "Lord Moriarty is of utmost concern to us." Mycroft leaned back against the railing, his sharp jacket a stark contrast to it.

"He is one of us." Sherlock's growled response made Mycroft tilt his head.

"Yes he is. Who was the other?" Mycroft raised an eyebrow, his dark eyes examining every detail about his brother.

"Just a man." Sherlock said tensely, but Mycroft smiled.

"Just a man would not have pulled you out of that room so fast even I did not see you move, brother. Come now do not be silly, tell me the truth. Is it true, that look on your face? Do you believe him to be your mate? Are you still looking for something so trivial as that?" Mycroft's voice was teasing and Sherlock growled again.

"Leave him. No matter what I think he is I know he is mine." Sherlock turned to his brother angrily, clicking his tongue.

"Is he? I believe that right now Lord Moriarty intends to have his way with him. Perhaps you fear the wrong man. Just look at them..." Mycroft's tone was dark and Sherlock felt himself compelled to look where his brother directed.

It was true, Moriarty had John pushed against a wall where conveniently Sherlock and Mycroft could see them but no one inside could. John was flushed, his face looked enthralled and utterly helpless as he whispered with the man. Sherlock growled something clawing at his stomach and he knew he could not allow this to stand. That man was his mate. He'd felt the sign, seen the truth in his eyes, and felt how easily their minds linked. He swept into the main hall and "accidentally" bumped into Moriarty, breaking the moment and his hold over the mortal. John looked up, surprised to see where he was standing and suddenly feeling as if he'd been doused in ice water. His eyes caught Sherlock's and held again, a desperation in his chest.

"I am terribly sorry." Sherlock said softly. "I was not watching where I was going."

"It is not a problem." Moriarty snapped and went to steer John away when a woman came up and grabbed his arm. Sherlock made his move, sweeping his arm through John's and walking him off.

"Thank you..." John whispered softly as they stepped out into the night. "I am not sure what happened." He looked confused but followed as Sherlock led.

"Do not thank me yet, I am not clear how honorable my intentions are." They stopped a short way outside the house, hidden in the tree line. Sherlock knew his kin were close and he had no fear of retaliation from Moriarty, lest he expose his mortal cover. John did not shiver with fear, instead he seemed eager to have this moment alone with Sherlock and Sherlock found this all the more intriguing.

"I do not understand how he is able to affect me so easily. He simply looked me in the eyes and everything went blank." John whispered. "He is so different than you."

"Than me?" Now he was intrigued.

"Yes, you have the same allure as he does, but with you I feel safe. With you I feel like all the ages of the world stretch before and behind me." John turned to look up at Sherlock just as the moon cleared the trees. Sherlock felt his breath hitch in his chest. John looked even more striking in this light and he could feel that string tightening more in his chest. This man had to be his, but he felt a pang. He wanted it to be willingly and he was already unsure of whether or not he'd drawn him in.

"You know not what you say, John Watson." But his hand was already scaling the length of John's neck. "You do not understand..." His motions froze when John spoke.

"No, I do not. You are like no man. I know there is something different about you and your brother. I had heard the rumors and always believed them to be the fantastical notions of bored individuals, however I can feel your hunger like my own breath. I can feel how deeply you desire me. It's rather frightening really, to know that of all those you could choose you have your sight on me." Their eyes locked and Sherlock felt it again. That string pulsing between them.

"You are not safe." He whispered, leaning down. Their mouths drawn together.

"Was I ever?" He breathed as their lips collided.

It was unlike any kiss either of them had shared with another previously. Sherlock had lived for two hundred years and no moment was like this one. John's mouth drew him in, his hand braced over the pulse in his neck and the other sliding up into his sandy hair. John's hands tentatively moved to his arms and slid up his back as their bodies crushed together in the darkness. The kiss seemed to last for hours before they pulled apart, lips swollen and breath ragged. Sherlock made a motion and his carriage appeared, he helped John inside.

"I will see you home safe. You are to come to my manor tomorrow." Sherlock's instructions were firm but once inside the carriage he brought their mouths back together.

"What is this feeling?" John asked him as they pulled apart again. "This pulsing thread between us, what is it?" He tilted his head slightly, unknowingly exposing his neck.

"It..." Sherlock's mouth opened despite his efforts to shove the desperate need away, the throbbing of John's pulse completely undoing his mind. "It is the sign of a bond mate. It means you are destined to be mine..." John felt the heat that pooled in his stomach as Sherlock came slightly undone.

"You want to drink of me..." John said softly, searching Sherlock's eyes. "The rumors are true are they not? You are one of the undead, a vampire?" Sherlock was surprised because John sounded interested not afraid.

"Yes. I have lived for over two hundred years." He found himself letting the words fall easily from his lips. He trusted this man, implicitly. "My brother and I were turned by a woman just after I passed my twentieth year. Yet in all that time no one has drawn me in so quickly as you."

"It has not been quickly." John chided, blushing. "I have tried to catch your eye since I was of age six years ago. At every event, at every gathering, even in the market." Their eyes searched one another's for a long moment. "You can walk in the sun."

"Yes, there is much lore around our kind that is untrue. We are weaker in the day but we do not burn. If we are injured too gravely and left to the sun we will die from weakness not ash." He ran his hand over John's face without touching him, groaning as John easily turned his head further.

"If you do not drink of me this moment it will drive us both mad. I willingly give you of myself. You may tell me more of this lore tomorrow when I meet you, let us not waste what little time we have in this moment." His breath was heavy, forcing its way through his chest as he felt Sherlock lean in towards him.

"Are you not afraid I may drain you and leave you to die?" His sleek mahogany baritone hummed against John's neck.

"I fear nothing of you. You will not leave me to die because I have already become fire in your veins. I became your fascination at least three years ago and now you can no longer put it off. I want to feel it." He pushed his neck into Sherlock's mouth and moaned as Sherlock began to lathe his lips and tongue across it.

It was a deadly and dangerous thing to do, Sherlock had not fed in three days testing himself and his hunger. He also felt the powerful heat of arousal sweep through his body as this man so easily sank into the knowledge of what he was without fear. How John simply gave himself over to the inescapable truth that Sherlock himself had been avoiding for six years. He slowly sank his teeth in, growling deliriously as John's essence poured into his mouth, John moaning under him. He drank only a little, not so much as he wished, but enough that he would be able to learn everything about John as he rested during the next day. When he pulled back, that ruby essence gleaming on his lips he panted. John groaned.

"I find in myself an urge to kiss you like this," He whispered gently reaching up to touch Sherlock's lips. "Is that common in your prey?"

"You have nothing in common with any prey I have ever hunted." Sherlock conceded before pressing their mouths together.

He had fed before. He had even experienced arousal when he fed but it was nothing like the heat blooming in his groin now. This ache was so very different and new. It was possessive, it was dark. He wanted to tie John up and claim him for days before draining him to the point of death and rebirthing him into the life of a vampire - to be his for all eternity. It was almost frightening to him, he had never wanted something this desperately in all his life. The two of them ground their hips together until John shouted.

"Oh stop! Please..." He begged, swallowing hard. "I shall never be able to hide a release like this. Please... Tomorrow... You may do what you wish with me." Sherlock obliged him, sitting up and the two of them heaving for breath. The carriage stopped outside John's farm and he slowly brought himself back into the world. "Are you afraid?" He asked Sherlock as Sherlock walked him toward the door.

"Me?" He asked incredulously.

"Yes, I can feel fear that I know is not my own." John's voice was soft, if not for Sherlock's improved senses he would have had to lean in to him. "Fear that can only be yours. It is this bond is it not?"

"It is. I have never felt something like this. I have never been attached to anyone."

"I have dreamed of you all my life. I have been destined for this." He let his hand reach up and cradle Sherlock's cheek, drawing him down into another kiss. "I will not fight something that is so beautiful and strong."

"There may come a time when you must. Danger is near, John... You are mine. Though there are others around who have their attentions on you."

"I know. Which is why I will release myself fully into your care tomorrow." John smiled. Sherlock looked surprised but John just shook his head. "This life holds nothing for me... Especially nothing so wonderful as a life with you will. I do not wish to continue this charade, your tutelage can teach me to be more than I ever can as a mortal. Please consider it." John kissed him once more and turned to walk in the house. Just inside the door Sherlock called his name, making him turn back. "Yes?"

"I am supposed to ask you that." His voice was tight with emotion but he could clearly see John's smile.

"You already know I accept. I have studied your kind or what is available about them. You will see everything." John nodded and closed the door.

Sherlock was left standing alone in the dark as the moon rose a bit higher. He didn't move for a very long time, watching the candle light that flickered to life and through the hall towards what could only be John's chamber. He felt an overwhelming urge to enter that room and claim John now, however he pressed himself to wait. He must speak with Mycroft first. Mycroft was the leader of their clan and he would have to have permission. Though if Mycroft said no he had every intention of proceeding anyway. John would be his. Mycroft seemed to be waiting for him when he returned to their manor and stalked into his study.

"So was your evening pleasant?" Mycroft teased, a darkness in his voice. He was drinking blood from a wine glass - one of his favorite actions.

"I want him." Sherlock spat as a reply.

"Why should I allow that?" He accented each word, looking over his brother with interest. "You have never wanted a pet."

"He is not a pet!" Sherlock shouted and Mycroft's smirk grew wider as he stood.

"No, he is not is he?" He walked over and circled his brother, observing him. "You have tasted his essence." His face was very close to his brother's, their skin almost touching. "Did you take it? Force him?"

"No... I had no intention of drinking from him but he..." Sherlock shivered.

"Oh. He is magnificent is he not? His family thinks very little of him. He spends his time in books and tending to the wounds of their animals and their servants. They believe him to be dull and that he will be nothing but a bane on their family as they try to wed him off. Imagine their surprise if Sherlock Holmes, Lord of this estate waltzes in just days after their first conversation and asks for his hand." Mycroft's words were cold, Sherlock had a terrible fear his brother was going to deny him this.

"Brother," He said softly, almost moving to plea but Mycroft stopped him.

"I know what you felt. I could see it all over your face. I could see it in his face, hear it in his thoughts... He has been trying to gain your attention for awhile now but you were determined to fight it. So why should I allow you to claim him?"

"I have never asked you for anything!" Sherlock shouted angrily, his entire body tensing. "In the whole of our lives, I have watched you go through countless men and women seeking this same thing. I have done all you have asked without question. If you saw my face then you know I cannot fight this! No matter how much I would wish to!" He was angry.

"That much is true. You will not be able to fight it. However you must use your brain." Mycroft sighed softly. "We will take John Watson into our employ, we will tutor him in the world he is unaccustomed to, and when the time is right we will bring him to our life." Sherlock felt relief sweep through him but it was gone in a moment.

"You..." His voice caught.

"That is my condition." Sherlock sighed and met his brother's eye.

"May I prepare him?" He trembled.

"You may warn him but my methods are my own. You will guide him through the change, but his blood and his change are mine. I am the leader of this family." Mycroft snapped tersely.

"Fine, Mycroft, fine! But he is mine!" Sherlock growled.

"He is and will be, but his death and rebirth will be mine. Think, you imbecile." He sighed. "If you bring him to this life you will lose the ease with which you may read his mind. Your connection will be challenged in every way. This way ensures the two of you remain bonded fully."

He had to concede the point. Mycroft was right. Becoming a sire to a fledgling meant losing whatever ability one had to read their mind, but the thought of Mycroft taking John's life made Sherlock feel darkly possessive again. A growl playing on his lips. Sherlock swept from the room, his anger filling him as he did and Mycroft simply sighed watching him go. This was a dangerous time for his brother to be giving in to sentiment, however if this was truly his bond mate... Well he would be stronger in the end.

"Anthea..." Mycroft turned to the woman who came forward. "I want you to arrange a room near Sherlock's. We're going to have company."

The next morning dawned cool and grey, John waking with the sun and immediately setting to his chores. His two younger sisters joining him as they worked with servants to prepare the house. Once the sun rose a bit higher John took his leave of the house, slipping off into the forest near his house to study. He made it easily to his usual place, a darkened clearing where he could rest easily on the low branches of a tree. He settled himself in his usual place, pulling out a sheaf of parchment. He unrolled it and began to read the notes contained therein. He knew Sherlock could walk during the day, he set his quill and ink on the ground and began to scrawl notes on the parchment with the small amount of information provided to him the night before. He then rolled the parchment and pulled out a small leather bound volume he'd made himself. He began to scrawl in details of the night before, before pausing and looking up. Sherlock was thinking about him, he could tell because he felt a flutter in his chest.

Sherlock found very little sleep, his mind desperate to begin sorting through the volume of memories that came with drinking his lovers blood. John was a scholar on vampires - gaining any knowledge he could. Sherlock could see him sitting in his favorite spot, scrawling notes and observations, correcting parchments and volumes that he collected, and musing over the truths and lies put forth in them. John had studied every piece of information he could find because... Because he understood what Sherlock was from the first moment he'd put his eyes on him. He had known before Sherlock had revealed it to him. Sherlock could see in his mind the dreams that spoke to him of another life, a life his was inexplicably bound to. John was adopted though it was unknown to anyone outside the family he was raised by. His mother and father had been killed during a journey through the country. One of the servants for the Watson family brought the baby boy too them as they had no son and had recently lost a child. John had found out when he was ten - when an uncle arrived in the city to search for him. He was given a necklace which Sherlock was unable to make out in his memories. Something he kept hidden under his shirt. No one else found out about John's origin until he was seventeen when his cousin discovered it and threatened to expose the family. He was surprised at the many memories of John telling his adoptive parents that he would not wed anyone they presented him because he knew he was destined for someone specific. Sherlock could see the moment John realized that person was Sherlock Holmes, Lord of a large manor and one known to avoid the public.

It had been their first moment of contact in the market six years before. Sherlock had been weak, he had not fed and had failed to return home before sunrise. He was hurrying through the market on the way home trying to make it there before he encountered trouble or was injured. He and John had collided outside a small apothecary stall, John dropping everything in his arms to catch Sherlock. Sherlock had been surprised to see such a poor man letting go of such important items in order to assist the man who had plowed into him. His touch had been gentle and guiding but Sherlock could feel in John's memories how it had been their contact that sparked something deeper. How it had been the response inside his own body that confused him. He'd felt that string between them and he could clearly see in John's eyes he felt it too. John had broken several vials of expensive liquids he was using to make medicines. Sherlock immediately tried to replace them as an apology - but the apothecary had been out. As Sherlock negotiated a repayment of the funds lost due to his careless behavior their eyes burned into each other's and in that moment the string tightened. Both had chosen to ignore it then fearing the repercussions, but Sherlock could see how as they seemingly randomly ran into each other again over the next few months John consented to its strength first, allowing himself to become more comfortable with it as time passed. John spoke with his father about the Holmes family, only to be told that he should avoid them outside of court. One of the servants told John she believed the Holmes to be vampires, which he laughed off but found intrigued him. There again was a portion of John's memories that were hidden, so he could not understand them. A puzzle that intrigued him so much he almost raced from his bed to John in order to demand the answers. Instead he focused and pushed beyond the block to the next section of memory. To see how John was determined to know the truth so he began studying the rumors and records that listed anything about these vampire creatures. Desperate to learn so he could rectify the man he was utterly bound to with the rumors around him.

Sherlock woke quickly when he heard Anthea knocking on the door. He knew it was her because her knock was inpatient. She opened the door when he responded.

"There is a gentleman here to see you, Lord Holmes." She said curtly.

"Is it John?" He barely breathed.

"Of course it is, who else would come for you?" She snarled.

"Let him come here..." Sherlock began but she stopped him.

"He is with your brother in the dining room, Lord Mycroft directs you to join them there." Sherlock's face tightened and he dressed hurriedly. He chose his best outfit, a deep purple jacket and white shirt over black trousers. He made his way as slowly as possible to the room to find Mycroft and John chatting in friendly tones.

"So you do not have a true tutor?" Mycroft asked softly, almost kindly.

"No, I am afraid my Uncle has no one to spare and I am considered so hopeless by most others no one will take me." He admitted easily, looking down.

"You are not so bad as that." Mycroft smiled warmly and John flushed just slightly. "When I have met you at court you do admirably, especially for one with so little training."

"I appreciate the commendation, however I disagree."

"Ah, Sherlock." Mycroft smirked as John's eyes immediately snapped up to meet his brother's and the two paused.

"Good morrow, Lord Holmes." John said standing quickly and bowing a bit. "I have come as you requested. I am deeply grateful for the escort home last evening as I have heard a woman was attacked and left to die in the forest shortly after our departure."

"Then it is good that I kept an eye on you." Sherlock smiled and inclined his head. "It is good to see you J... Sir Watson. If my brother is quite finished with you I should like to take you on a tour of the grounds."

"Oh I was merely testing his desire to learn. I am most pleased and will dispatch someone to his parents on the morrow to inform them he will come under our wing. We shall move him here and teach him the ways of the world." Mycroft smirked as John flushed.

"How generous of you." He conceded.

"Yes, I look forward to assisting you in his tutelage." Sherlock said firmly, his face darkening. Mycroft simply waved them off.

"Your grounds are much larger than any indication I have been given." John praised as Sherlock led him through a long ivied tunnel.

"That is because our grounds house many families. This is the home of our clan."

"Why are you telling me this?" John asked softly as they came to rest at the end of the walk, in front of a fountain. "Why do you trust me?"

"It is simple, if you betray us I will kill you." He promised but he moved closer to him. "You want this?"

"I want you." He shrugged.

"You do not even know me."

"I know you better than anyone." He promised as their mouths were inexplicably drawn together again. Sherlock's hand slid immediately into his hair, deepening the kiss.

"John," He hummed, forcing the kiss to stop. "What do you know about us?" He asked, directing him to sit down. John handed him the leather volume and the rolled parchment. He quickly scanned them. "These handwritten notes are yours?" He asked in awe.

"Yes, I have observed many things..." He flushed.

"You could have been labeled a hunter, that would have endangered your life." He kept staring at a word on the first page of the book. Solvanar - he had seen it before but he could not recall where.

"I could have however no one ever notices me. I wanted to understand." He urged as his voice betrayed his passion. "I wanted to understand you. You were so weak that day in the market, so different than when I saw you at the balls..." He looked down.

"I already know this. I saw it all in your blood." He whispered, shivering slightly. "These observations you have made are incredible. You have found many of the truths hidden by our kind."

"Not everything." He tilted his head again.

"That is true. You have the major points however, that silver is poison to us because of a reaction with our blood, that we can be killed by any normal means should we be weakened enough, and of course you have added what I revealed last evening." He smiled and rolled the parchment.

"Sherlock," He whispered and Sherlock felt himself tighten. The way he said his name held a gentle control over him. "Our bond is unavoidable. I know there are only two answers. Either you kill me or you accept me. You have never before had an interest in a partner, so if you plan to destroy me do not toy with my heart. Instead kill me now so I may be at peace."

"I could never do such a thing." Sherlock stood and swept John up into his arms again, cradling his chin. "I wanted to avoid it, I never wanted to feel this - but now I cannot ignore it. And you, you are so incredibly interesting..."

"I am not..." John protested but Sherlock cut him off.

"You are! You met me in an alley before the city was awake, caught me stumbling in weakness and proceeded to wrap your entire mind and passion around me! You learned everything you could about me in order to learn what I was, to learn how I lived... You have been loyal to me without me even having spoken with you. You are the most interesting person I have ever met." He crushed his mouth to John's again, cutting off his next reply.

"They why are you still afraid?" He asked timidly as their kiss broke.

"You can feel it again?" Sherlock's voice was breathless, full of lust.

"Yes, especially now that we are so near to each other." He searched his eyes, panting.

"It is my brother..." He didn't speak, instead the words sounded inside John's head. He shivered in Sherlock's grip. "He has told me I must let him give you rebirth."

"You mean he will be the one to drain me?" John's voice held a hint of fear.

"I am sorry," He looked down, as if he had failed. He felt John's fingers slip under his chin and lift his face.

"I will go through any amount of fire at the hands of others if in the end I shall be privileged to spend all eternity by your side." He moved gently and brought a soft, passionate kiss to Sherlock's mouth - slowly pressing his way in so their tongues could search one another. Sherlock moaned softly, feeling John as if he was inside his own body.

"You have never had a lover..." Sherlock whispered.

"No, I have not." John blushed. "Does that..."

"No... I want to claim you." He was almost begging. "I want to claim you before he touches you." His mouth greedily returned to John's pushing him back into the pillar of the gazebo.

"Sherlock," He whimpered softly.

"Please John, let me have you." His lips trailed down over his jaw, pushing down his collar to find purchase on his neck.

"I am only yours." John whispered his reply.

Sherlock took his hand and half drug him back into the house. Anthea came to them to offer them anything they needed and Sherlock snapped at her to leave them be. He pulled John in his room and snapped the door shut behind them, pulling him to himself for a deeply lustful kiss.

"Sherlock, that was..."

"Obvious, I know." He smirked proudly as he pushed John back. "I wanted to claim you last night... You dreamt of it did you not?" He purred in his ear and John groaned.

"H-how..." John turned to look at him, falling back on the bed.

"I felt your passion, you pulled me into the dream." He flowed down over John, pinning him to the bed. "You wanted to see me, the real parts of me." He whispered, his hands running over John just above his body - in effect massaging his aura. John whimpered and leaned his head to the side automatically.

"Sherlock, oh God..." He whispered, his nails digging into Sherlock's arms through his jacket. "When you do that..."

"Why do you offer your neck so easily?" He moaned, his tongue lathing over the barely visible red marks where he had taken John's essence the night before.

"I cannot explain it." He panted as Sherlock undid his jacket. "I can feel the need in your body, the need to drink of me and my mind simply gives in to allow it." His breathing was ragged and desperate.

"This bond is uncommon for us... For us to find..." Sherlock tried to explain though his mind was already engaged in other thinking. "There are so many people in the world the likelihood of us finding our mates is usually low." He whispered lathing kisses over John's neck as he slowly pulled the various layers of clothing away. "I am forever in debt to the power that brought you into my knowledge. I shall protect you for all the ages of the world." He promised, leaning up to kiss John as he pulled his own shirts off.

"As I will protect you." John promised in return, leaning up to latch his mouth on Sherlock's neck. He moaned deeply, feeling the tenderness with which John kissed him.

"I would give you this life now if I could..." He whimpered, his hand gripping John's hair tightly. "Oh curse Mycroft that it must wait." He pushed John down, sliding his trousers off. He kissed down John's body before returning to kiss him. His hand gently stroking his demanding erection.

"Sherlock!" John whimpered and arched.

"I want to drink you and claim you." Sherlock pleaded, his mouth again on John's neck.

"Oh please..." He begged. Sherlock brought two fingers up letting John suckle them gently for a long moment before reaching down and gently pushing against his quivering ass. He pushed them in and out as John whimpered and moaned. He toyed with him for a long time, until John's whimpers were almost whines. He pulled away only to get his own trousers off, returning and stroking his own weeping cock, slicking himself with the liquid. He pressed himself against John, wrapping John's legs around his waist as he leaned down to kiss him hard.

"Oh you are so tight... Give in to me." Sherlock demanded as he kissed over to his neck and nipped at it. John arched unintentionally and pushed Sherlock inside of himself with a loud curse and whimpering.

"Oh my God!" John growled, trembling hard.

"So tight..." Sherlock clawed into his shoulders, waiting for a long moment before he slowly began to pump his hips in and out of John. John moaned loudly, his neck exposed and his whimpers desperate.

"Drink me! Please..." He begged. "Take me into yourself as you claim me!"

"You are so close to release already..." He whispered in his ear, his voice half in his mind and half in his words. "You have no idea how much I desperately need this." He let his teeth trail over John's neck before gently sinking them into the exact same place as the night before.

His hips took on a life of their own slamming into John even harder as his essence spilled into his hungry mouth. His blood carried his lust forcing Sherlock's to achieve atmospheric levels as he teetered close to his own release. He pulled up off John's neck as they both we finally thrust over the edge, their vision going white, both of them shouting, and completely in sync with each other. A few drops of John's blood dripped down over his chest as the two lay there panting and staring in each other's eyes. Silence descended around them but Sherlock spoke, the words echoing in John's mind.

"I had intended to keep you under me, writhing for desire for hours..." He said smirking slightly. He shifted slightly so he pulled out of John but leaned down so they were still tightly embraced, with Sherlock on top. He caressed John's cheek and licked the slow trickling blood on his neck.

"I have desired this moment too strongly. I felt how my blood inspired you..." He whispered, panting for breath. "Your desire built in my own body until I could not help but release with you." He slowly raised his hand to Sherlock's cheek, cupping it as he did.

"We must do this properly." His voice again rumbled inside John's head again. "You will have to leave me again this evening and return tomorrow. I believe my brother will begin your rebirth then. I..." He looked away, sighing as he sank down into their embrace. "He may not allow me to be present."

"I imagine he will not." John agreed. "I believe you will have made him angry, claiming me like this." He blushed as Sherlock looked into his eyes. "It will be worth it."

"Yes, I believe you are." He smiled.

John remained hidden away with Sherlock the rest of the afternoon and that evening he was dismissed back to his own manor with the promise of the request for his permanent relocation the following morning. When he returned looking pleased and bright his family demanded to know what happened but he gave them nothing. Instead consenting only to say that they may receive some favorable news the following morning. The next morning John woke early and he was surprised to find his father sitting on the edge of his bed. There was a nervousness coiled inside his chest that he knew must belong to his beloved. It would no longer allow him sleep. John stood and dressed quickly before turning to face the man, whose face betrayed an eagerness to speak with him.

"I don't know what you did last night son, however I am proud of you." The man said gruffly.

"What are you speaking of?" John demanded, looking confused. He never received so much as a kind word from this man and to hear them now was utterly infuriating.

"A letter arrived just before dawn from the Holmes family. It seems Lord Mycroft wishes to tutor you and employ you as one of his assistants. They have asked us to send you with all of your things to take up residence at their estate, today." John's gaze swept around the room as confusion filled him. He had not expected such a request so suddenly. He had expected to be required to remain at home for some time while going to train. Though this was a much preferred reality.

"Oh..." He said softly after opening and closing his mouth a few times. "Well I suppose I did something right then." It was a weak reply but he did not have anything better to offer. His mind already rife with the possibilities that lay before him. As soon as this very evening he would be with his beloved, permanently.

"We dispatched a letter to your Uncle for approval, if he concedes you will be dismissed from us at once." There in that tone were the words John had expected. The disappointment finally replaced with pride. Tentative pride that was aimed more at the potential fortune and connection the name Holmes would provide John's adoptive family and none saved for the man himself. His father had never before been proud to call him his son. He was far too ordinary.

"So this will be it then. Uncle will say yes because he knows how poorly you think of me and does not hold me in the same esteem." John gathered his clothes together, sorting through them to find an emerald green outfit. "Very well father. Thank you." He nodded as his father left.

The messenger returned promptly from the Duke's house and with a letter that agreed it would be perfect for John to gain tutelage under the Holmes brothers. So it was easily arranged and around sunset John was on his way to a new life - in many ways. He carefully flicked through one of his few documents on vampirism as the carriage drove on. Sherlock snapped awake as he felt John's energy close to him, his scent filling his nose. Their shared tension becoming stronger as their proximity increased. He sat up slowly, moving like a cat - long fluid motions. He swept through his room, hastily dressing and his senses expanding to take in the feeling of the house. He heard voices in the hallway, most importantly he heard John's soft tones. Excitement filled his chest and he could feel the subtle shift as John began to fill with it as well. Anthea almost laughed as she directed John and saw the stupid smile that covered his face the closer they moved towards Sherlock's room.

"Lord Mycroft says you are to remain in your room unless escorted by a servant, the Lord himself, or the younger Lord, Sherlock."Her voice was soft as she directed him. "Your room is close to that of Sherlock as he will be your primary instructor. Do rest well, the Lord will meet with you in the soon." John stood perfectly still, immediately turning towards Sherlock's door just as it opened. The pair so innately in tune with each other that every movement seemed to be made in equal measure by either man.

"John..." Sherlock's voice called as he stepped into the room. He was still somewhat asleep. John looked up and blushed. He was wearing his best outfit and had a small case in his hands, which he set down. Sherlock was fighting the urge to take his lover in his arms, but the urge was too strong.

"I am sorry if I have disturbed you..." John whispered, blushing as Sherlock swept towards him and into his arms.

"You beautiful man." Was the only reply.

Sherlock helped John settle into his room and John had barely closed his eyes when he was awoken by Anthea. She instructed him to pull on his shirt and trousers before following her downstairs. He was led past the dining room and below the main entrance to a hidden staircase that led down underground. When he arrived in the room below Mycroft and Sherlock were waiting for him, seated inside a well lit bed chamber with a heavy door. John rubbed the sleep from his eyes and looked between the two men with some anxiety. Mycroft looked positively elegant in a dark red dress robe. His eyes flashing as he took in the man before him. John could feel Sherlock's nervousness, pooling in their stomachs and causing both of them to flush slightly.

"When these occasions present themselves I usually prefer to draw them out, as you are no doubt aware my dear Watson, we have had to take a rather rash approach. We have discovered a plot to bring injury to you and thus we have had to rush things. We have no time to spare on our task, so I shall put it simply to you..." Mycroft smiled, standing up and sweeping close to John. His face merely a breath apart, he smiled as John remained firm. "I intend to drain you of your mortal life and turn you to ours. It will take three days. During the course of each evening I shall come here and drain your essence and then you shall take my blood. During the course of the day my brother will guard you - but you are not to drink from him until our ritual is complete. You are free to do whatever is necessary to deal with the pain, however if you drink from him you will die before this task is finished. Do you understand?" He growled darkly, leaning close to John. John did not flinch, instead he focused himself resolutely.

"You are leader of this clan, you are the elder brother, you are my tutor - whatever your rules are I accept." He replied as firmly as he could. Sherlock's nerves were gnawing away at him, though his own resolve was strong. Mycroft smiled and turned to move back towards his chair.

"Sherlock, prepare him for me." Mycroft smirked, sinking back in his chair.

Sherlock walked over to John and gently pressed kisses to his mouth, listening to the moan of his lover as he easily freed him from his shirt. Neither of them content with the thought that Mycroft may actually go through with his threat to physically use John. Sherlock was desperate to claim John again, their mouths moving furiously against each others' as they tried to quell the emotion roiling inside their chests. Sherlock only stopped when Mycroft suddenly gasped and swept close to them, shoving Sherlock to the side. Sherlock moved as Mycroft's eyes burned onto the pendant on his neck. Sherlock was confused, his nerves slowly fading. John stayed strong, smirking a bit as Mycroft's shock betrayed itself.

"You're a Solvanar?!" He demanded angrily, moving to touch John but stopping short. His anger filling his dark eyes.

"Yes, the last of my branch of the family tree." He countered easily and Sherlock smirked as he saw something in his lovers gaze that Mycroft missed. John was amused, he had expected this moment and planned for it accordingly. It made something in Sherlock's chest purr contentedly. This man was a perfect match for him. "A branch you tried to remove, Lord Mycroft." His eyes hardened but he did not raise his tone. Mycroft sneered.

"What do you mean?" He pulled back, growling in anger.

"You killed my parents and my sister as retaliation for their attempts to kill your pet when they crossed paths with her on our journey north. I was just a babe when it happened and my mother had the intelligence to hide me under a blanket while Anthea tore through the wagon to ensure she had destroyed us all. My Uncle informed me of the story when he found me around my tenth birthday. However it is of no consequence to you what I was, Mycroft. I am dead to them and have been for three years hence." John sighed and finally looked down. "I am Solvanar only by birth. I pledge my life to Sherlock and to this coven regardless of history."

"What's a Solvanar?" Sherlock asked curiously, looking to his brother.

"It is the name given to families born of mortal and vampire relations. A male vampire can sire a child with a female mortal, but the child is almost exactly like their mother. If the child, who is both half vampire and half mortal, chooses to live a mortal life and denies herself the vampire aspect of her being she becomes a Solvanar. She will then most likely birth a mortal girl child with her mortal husband who again shall resemble the mother and grandmother almost entirely. It is the fourth generation that a son can finally be born again of the mortal line. John's parents ran afoul of Anthea when she went out to feed many years ago. They intended to kill her because her knowledge of their bloodline was dangerous to their young children. Solvanar children are prone to seeking out vampires because the blood still lingers in their bodies. They crave the life that was denied to them by their mothers. It has been found to be especially true in the sons of the Oaken Solvanar, John's line. Their hunger and desire for nocturnal life usually finds footing in the sons born of the line, beginning the pattern all over again if or when they choose to take a mortal woman to their side. As I understood it his family had been wiped out. However when I discovered the work on the Oaken Solvanar here in our city I was informed that John was the younger sibiling, the one not given the Solvanar heritage..." Mycroft explained for them both, noting that John simply smiled.

"You were intentionally misinformed, my Lord. My sister and I were twins however as it was I was older by a short while." John continued smiling. "I know you are not afraid of my heritage as a Solvanar, Mycroft. It is not my birth that frightens you because we both know that my birth makes me ripe for your clan. The blood hunger that comes to the sons of the Solvanar, particularly the Oaken Solvanar is what drew me to Sherlock in the first place." He spoke softly, with focus.

"Blood hunger?" Sherlock asked softly, now entirely enthralled.

"The sons of the Solvanar usually fall prey to the strength of the vampiric nature of their heredity. They are usually sent to reside with other, elder males of the Solvanar lines. The descendants of the city of Solvanar. They are instructed and guarded so they do not given in to the power of the blood hunger within their bodies." John finally looked down and Sherlock felt sorrow he knew belonged not to himself but to his beloved. "That is why I am considered dead to them. I did not resist."

"You have tasted blood?" Mycroft asked eagerly, stepping closer to John again.

"I have." He sighed. "My father taught me to hunt but he discovered me drinking the blood of a deer after one such hunt. He was not entirely sure what to make of the situation. It was then he wrote to my Uncle who came and instructed me in my heritage. My Uncle intended to send me to stay with another distant relative who would continue to instruct me and keep me from my own demons, as it were - however it required him to leave me alone for a time. During which I met Sherlock and became possessed of the idea of understanding him. As many of your clan came to me for injuries I was able to speak with them and earn their trust. One of the lesser members of your clan brought me a sample of Sherlock's blood." John flushed a bit with shame, but he felt Sherlock's desire sweep through his own body like fire.

"You've tasted it?" Sherlock asked breathlessly.

"Yes." John sighed. "I have, it was then that I understood what was before me. It was not enough to influence my own mortal life but it was enough to inflame the blood thirst. When my Uncle returned I informed him I had discovered my mate and that I was going to give myself over to you. He was disappointed beyond measure and tried vainly to convince me not to go through with my plan. However after several months of discussion and correspondence he relented. He understood that I was motivated not by power but by love. He crafted a story that I had been discovered and killed, thus ending the branch of my family." Mycroft smirked but he was careful not to betray his thoughts on his face.

"So you are correct, I do not fear your heritage, however I do feel you are saying I fear something..." He swept closer, reaching towards John but stopping again.

"You are afraid of the power of my shield. The Oaken shield, the birthright of an Oaken Solvanar." He gently touched the pendant of his necklace.

"Oaken shield?" Sherlock furrowed his brow.

"Yes. Each Solvanar family is named for a mighty tree. My family is the Oaken Solvanar. This necklace," He indicated the small square bronze colored pendant etched with knot work and a garnet in the center that rested just above his sternum. "Is my birthright. One is made for each child of the family on the occasion of their birth. It is imbued with the power of the half mortal, half vampire matriarch of the Solvanar clan. In this case my grandmother's blood was used in the creation of the garnet. The power of the blood makes it so a vampire cannot touch me without my permission. Which is what Moriarty was trying to garner from me at the ball recently. However it must be implicitly given and cannot be commanded over." He smiled.

"So my brother..." Sherlock was almost laughing but Mycroft looked angry.

"Cannot touch me. A vampire may only contact me when I give them permission or I am bonded to them. Both of which are the case with you, my love." He focused on Mycroft, his intention pooling in his eyes. "Touch me Mycroft." He commanded. "I give you permission to end my mortal life and ask humbly that you initiate me into your nocturnal realm. Take your desire from me."

"Oh he is precious." Mycroft growled and moved closer. "There is but one thing left to do say."

"Lord Mycroft, leader of this coven - grant me your nocturnal crown. Remove me from the cycle of the sun and birth me into the phases of the moon so that I may bring honor unto your coven and family for all the ages of the world." John whispered, bowing his head. "I follow the rules of the Coven matriarch and the one she has deemed leader, you, the coven father. I give all of my loyalty to ensuring this family is protected and honored. I submit to your will asking only that you grant me the right to remain at my beloveds' side for all the ages of the world."

"How do you know the oath?" Mycroft grabbed him, holding his face tightly - anger in his eyes.

"Anthea told me the oath as repayment for her injuries." John replied simply, still remaining firm. Sherlock almost groaned with need.

"Sherlock to your task." Mycroft commanded his voice dark and thick with hunger as he watched John and Sherlock collide for a heated kiss. John melted easily into Sherlock's guidance even though he could feel Sherlock's jealousy pooling inside of his own stomach. Sherlock kissed him and continued undressing him, doing his best to not let his emotion show. John's eyes flashed to his, promising and reassuring as they could be in a moment like this.

"Show him..." Sherlock whispered commandingly and John moved forward very tentatively to put his hand on Mycroft's chest. Every move he made was an example of surrender, culminating only when John's body was only inches from Mycroft's. Mycroft could do nothing but watch with rapt attention as John surrendered to the will of the two men. John's final action was to gently tilt his head to the side, exposing his neck to Mycroft's desperate intentions. Mycroft felt pride, hunger, and something akin to lust flare inside his stomach.

"Drink of me, Mycroft. Claim what is yours: the mortal remnants of a life you despise." John coaxed, his eyes fluttering closed. Mycroft felt the spike of heat rise in his body along with the desperate hunger as his gaze fell over the throbbing vein in John's neck. It had been worth the painful sleep of a day without feeding to feel the shiver that ran through John's body as Mycroft's aura washed over him.

"You willingly submit to the will of this clan? To my will?" Mycroft barely breathed as he leaned over John to inhale the scent coming off of him. He pressed his nose gently against the crease of his neck, groaning. John groaned softly himself, the power of Mycroft's need cutting off the rationality of his thought.

"Yes. I would do anything for Sherlock." He replied sternly.

"Even die?" Mycroft grinned and pulled back slightly to search his eyes.

"If my life would save his I would forfeit it without hesitation. My feelings will not change tomorrow or in three thousand years. I shall love him for all the ages of the world. He is my mate." John's voice was eager and earnest, reassuring both of the Holmes men that he meant each word. "My heritage as a Solvanar not withstanding I do not come here to gloat or flaunt what I am. The blood hunger inside of me is not what drives me here to your door. I come only as a man helplessly tied to another being for all the ages of the world." Sherlock made a soft noise and Mycroft looked to him. Sherlock desperately wanted to lay his claim, to turn John and claim his as his own forever.

"Sherlock, his heritage makes it even more important that I should be the one to turn him. I know you wish to claim him. I do not blame you for wishing it. He is quite worthy but I must do this. If you turn him we will lose the advantage offered by his blood. Help me honor his request." Mycroft's words echoed in Sherlock's mind as he stood and gently came closer. He caressed John's arms, their bond forcing him to relax more into Mycroft's touch.

Mycroft could feel John's pulse beating strongly under his skin, begging to be set free. His entire body softened into the moment and pleaded for the two of them to drink him. To take his essence and remake him into something new, something better, someone worthy of Sherlock. What neither of the brothers could accurately convey in that moment was that he was already worthy of him. He was in fact worthy of more, however they could not find the words to tell him how true those thoughts were. Mycroft gave in to the lust purring in his chest and slowly, reverently took John's face in his hands. He kept his neck tilted to the side and gently pressed his teeth into the tanned skin. John let out a groan as he felt his skin give way and his blood rushing into Mycroft's mouth. Sherlock tightened his grip around John supporting his weight as he whispered reassuring words in his ear. Mycroft's eyes flashed up to Sherlock's and Sherlock easily followed the command. He sank his teeth into John's shoulder still supporting him from behind as the two brothers drained him. John's soft moans became breathless as he felt his strength ebb and his control over his body faded. John's body responded first with lust and then dissolved into utter weakness as his strength left. He all but collapsed in Sherlock's arms, the movement pulling him from their mouths, his eyes half closed as he shivered on the edge of death and life. The two brothers easily shifted him to the bed, letting his rest easily against Sherlock's chest. Sherlock trying to keep John alert, active, and showing him he was safe. Mycroft cut open his wrist and pressed it to John's mouth.

"The hunger is inside of you, born into you by your birth..." He whispered darkly. "Let it free. Let it find a home in the truth you are desperate to feel." He coaxed. Sherlock let his touch flutter over John's body as John weakly latched on to Mycroft's wrist and drank slowly but steadily.

Mycroft let him continue for a long time, watching as John whimpered and fought the edge of darkness that tried to claim him. Eventually he pulled away, weakened by the experience but watching as John's eyes slowly closed into the sleep that came with the transformation. He grunted in pain and Sherlock looked momentarily terrified, turning his eyes to his brother for direction. Mycroft did his best to give Sherlock a reassuring look as Anthea came and helped him up.

"It will be painful for him, his body will die while his mind remains strong and active. Stay beside him, comfort him however you can, I must go feed and rest. Sherlock, there is blood wine in the cabinet. If he begins to feel too much pain give him some it will dull the sensation. Be sure you feed when he sleeps." He ordered softly.

"I thought you intended to..." Sherlock focused on Mycroft, his thoughts fluttering into his brother's mind. His voice still sounding small and terrified.

"I did intend to claim him physically, however I can see now that it is an unnecessary portion of this task. He will remain loyal to you no matter what happens. His memories, as jumbled as they are make that clear to me. Rest with him. Protect him. He is a better mate than any I could have sought to provide you."

With that Mycroft let Anthea escort him out of the room and Sherlock pulled a trembling, weak, and mostly sleeping John into his arms and cradled him like the most precious gem in the world. For that was what he was, the most magnificent jewel in Sherlock's nocturnal crown.