Author's note: This is the final episode of the installment. I hope you all liked it.

—o—o—

Immortalise

The scene before him was definitely snatched out of John's most horrible nightmares. Sherlock laid sprawled out on the table, a tube attached to his neck with the clear sign of blood flowing through it. In a flurry of rage and a need to protect, John threw himself to the killer and managed to push him aside to get to the detective. He would always be his priority.

As Lestrade struggled with the attacker and attempted to immobilise him, the doctor was tearing the tubes out of his friend, assisting in any way a medical man could, all the while not straying his sight from his friend's eyes. Droopy and confused but so very filled with life still, that he felt so grateful he could have dropped to the floor and cried in relief.

They had found him. They had finally found him, and he was going to be alright. After realising the detective would most certainly have a plan for them to find him, John had managed to get to the file on his phone; and the tracker on his person told him were to locate him. The soldier wasn't sure exactly where on his person it was, and he figured he didn't really want to know. All that he cared about now was that Sherlock was safe and the bastard who did this to him was apprehended —probably for good, otherwise John would had made sure he vanished.

After getting his detective out of all the straps and binds, he lifted his torso up from the table and gave him a warm hug. "Jesus, Sherlock." He said, as Greg was dragging the culprit away to take into the police car. "You almost got killed." The doctor held him to his chest, placing soft kisses into the other's curls. "I thought I was going to lose you." The fear in his voice was enough to give the other pause.

The languid genius smiled genuinely and whispered. "Oh, John. Don't you know by now?" The blogger slid his hands under the other's legs and wrapped his arms around his neck, careful not to disturbe the hasty bandages. He picked him up to carry him into the ambulance parked outside on the cul-de-sac. Confused and curious, the blonde inquired for an explanation, to which the younger man just shrugged weakly and smirked. "I'm immortal."

The soldier laughed nervously as he quickly walked through the rooms in the house. "You idiot." He commented affectionately; Sherlock smiled but seemed to settle down in a slight doze once more. The blood loss was clearly taking its toll. The blonde pressed him to his figure a moment in comfort, even if the other was too out of it to actually feel it. Then, he placed him on the gurney inside the ambulance and climbed on too.

—o—o—

"He took advantage of the maternity leave of his sister's doctor to break into the office and steal the machine and substances he needed." The detective explained from the hospital bed he was refused to leave. "Once he managed to get her paralised, it was so easy to plug her to the machine and program the pacemaker to force her heart to beat way faster; thus aiding in her complete drainage of blood in much less than half the time it would have taken otherwise." The boffin concluded, wearing a smirk that had no right of being so constructed while having been close to murder little more than 24 hours before.

"So, this was all just for a castle?" Greg asked, looking up from his notepad where he was accounting for everything that had happened. Taking the detective's statement in a hospital was not an unusual occurrence.

"Yes," Sherlock answered. "Samuel got greedy, and figured that as the only relatives left, if his sister suddenly were to disappear he would also get her share of the inheritance. It didn't help that he was fed up with his little sister always dismissing him." John came to stand beside him and sat on the bed, careful not to crowd too much into the other's space, the curly-haired man was still slightly—secretly— weary of closed spaces.

"And Mr. Masters?" Greg continued his inquiry, eager to be done with it all and just go home and rest now that the detective had been found.

"Mr. Hollens needed someone to take the fall for all of it, so he created a story that he was sure I would not believe but would be enough to draw suspicion." The genius explained. "The rest of it was just opportune subject and suggestion. The same reason why he refused to be interviewed by me; he was afraid I would see through his ruse."

"Blimey, so he's not a vampire?" The older man asked, just for the sake of clarity, those things tend to matter in a official statement. Sherlock seemed annoyed with his question and rolled his eyes, apparently he's taking too long with this.

"Certainly not." He replied shortly. "He's clearly just a very closed up man with no family and a nocturnal job which makes him keep odd hours." Not unlike myself, he thought. The only difference was that he didn't go around pretending to be a fictional character.

The DI sighed. "Jesus! I need a break." He exclaimed under his breath.

"And something stronger than coffee." Sherlock finished. "John, take him out. I need to arrange my mind palace." He ordered, clearly having hit he daily quota of 'nonsensical drivel' as he often put it.

John, however was hesitant to leave him. Their relationship was still seventeen hours old, and he had no desires of deserting the detective so fast, —not to mention he was almost bled dry in the very near past— but he understood the importance of giving the genius his space. "You'll be okay, love?" He asked. Grabbing the other's arm in affection.

"I think I can manage a couple of hours without getting killed." The younger man replied sarcastically, the corner of his mouth tilting up in a playful smirk.

"God, I hope so." Was the only thing John could reply.

—o—o—

"I'm so glad for you two." The cheerful voice of Mr.s Hudson could be heard in the sitting room all the way to the kitchen. The two of the other residents were seated a the desk, each doing their own thing. "I always knew it." She finished, smiling genuinely at both of them.

"Well," The detective started. "He managed to convince me." He commented while not moving his eyesight from the paper he was reading.

The blogger, who was sitting across the table updating his blog smiled at the friendly quip. "Behave." He said. Kicking the other's leg lightly under the desk.

"Oh, it's so lovely." The landlady cooed, clearly ecstatic that they had finally done what she had wanted since the very beginning. She left them alone a few minutes after that, saying goodbye and letting them enjoy their home now that they were both back in it.

"So," The blogger stopped typing and said. "Case closed." The smiles on both their faces were radiant, even if they knew they will not be able to giggle forever, there had already been a few rows since this started.

"Tedious. When's the next one?" The boffin asks, drumming his fingers on the wooden surface of the table impatiently.

John laughed a bit. "You just got back from the hospital three hours ago." He reminded him, and stood up to fetch the tea Mrs. Hudson had left brewing. Walking cheerfully to the kitchen and returning with a full teapot and two cups for them.

"Exactly!" The genius exclaimed, throwing his head back in half-mock half-real exasperation. "Three whole hours. What's happened since then?" His hands carded through his own curls and he tugged in frustration. It was amazing to John how much stimulation Sherlock needed on a daily basis. Suddenly, he stopped and looked at his flatmate in assessment. The boffin sighed and lounged on his chair. "The important thing is: the case is solved and, like I always said, there is no such thing as vampires." The detective brought his cup to his own lips and took a sip.

John smiled and did the same. "Cheers!" He commented. However, after a few more seconds of silence, he cleared his throat and conversationally said. "You know what I don't get, though?" He asked.

"Mm?" The other inquired distractedly, taking another sip from his perfectly brewed cup of tea.

"If Samuel made it all up just to throw us off his scent," He said, frowning as he did so. "Then why didn't Masters show up in any of the pictures?"

There was a load crash as the teacup in the detective's hands fell and shattered into a million pieces.

Happy Halloween!