Price Of Death

Disclaimers: I own your souls!

AN: The fourth installment of the "Death Series" (previous is "Death Series 3: Flying Burn"). This will be a full length feature again, as will Death Series 5.


Summary: The deeds of the past will always come back to bite you.


(1) The Body Of Blood

John blinked at those words. He had heard of vampires becoming mummified if they didn't drink blood. Now there was one in such condition in Molly's freezer? He put the laptop aside but Sherlock had already put a hand up to stop his question.

"I opened the wrong drawer looking for blood during one of my flare ups," Sherlock explained. "I can tell the difference between a common corpse & a vampire. Later, when I could think straight again, I checked the other one to see if it was a vampire as well, but it isn't."

"What will you do about the one that IS a vampire?"

Sherlock swung his long legs off the couch to sit up & look at John. "Feed it, of course."

"You mean awaken it?"

"I have awakened many lost vampires in my lifetime," Sherlock replied.

"Lost vampires?" John echoed. "You know this vampire?"

"Not at all & the only way to find out about him is to awaken him," Sherlock said. "When one turns, death does happen. The whole process takes about an hour or so. Then you wake up from that death into this," he gestured over himself with his hands for a moment. "But some times, while you are dead & waiting for the turn, you could potentially be buried by your relatives who either do not know what happened, or worse, do know & wish to bury what they think is a monster, having no understanding of what is truly going on. Imagine waking up in your grave! Stuck there in the dark for all eternity."

John looked about ready to pass out. "Sherlock! I am so glad I can't be a vampire."

"There are uncountable vampires buried all over the planet," Sherlock said. "One of the main jobs of the Undead Law of Government is trying to find them all. One of our rules now is to stay near the one you are turning to protect them from that horror. I helped write that rule shortly after Mycroft had turned us all. He didn't stay by our side. He rushed to turn us all as soon as possible. We were fortunate no one attempted to bury any of us during our turns."

John smiled for a moment. Sherlock was finally mentioning his lost brother. "So how do you think Molly ended up with a dried out vampire?"

"The record on the drawer says the body was found in the ground while someone was digging out a foundation for a new house."

"So he was murdered & dumped," John said.

"Yes, but also bitten & turned," Sherlock pointed out. He got up & went to get dressed in his usual long coat & scarf. "I would love to get my hands on that vampire before the Undead Law literally swoop in & take it away."

John went to grab his own coat, knowing they were heading out right now. They took a cab back to the mortuary where Molly met them at the door & brought them inside. John stayed with her by the window while Sherlock had Molly lock the door from the outside. The dried vampire hadn't drank in who knows how long & Molly would be a prime target. She & John watched Sherlock open the freezer door next & go inside.

He soon returned carrying the corpse in his arms much to Molly's shock. Sherlock placed the body on the slab table, then went back into the freezer. He rolled out the second drawer filled with bottles & bags of blood that he had missed during his Flying Burn. He grabbed the closest bag, opened it & began to slowly pour it over the body, occasionally rubbing the blood into the dried flesh with his own hands.

By now, Molly had both hands over her mouth, unable to look away from the strange scene. John could only stare as Sherlock took a bottle next & eased a few drops into the cracked lips. He pressed his finger in to push the blood down a little. A blackened finger twitched.

"John! It moved!" Molly gasped. John grasped the bottom edge of the window.

Sherlock bathed the body in blood once more, letting it soak in. He pushed more blood down the throat until it softened enough to put a tube in. "Now it starts," Sherlock muttered to himself, pushing a tube down, then began filling it. "John, perhaps you should take Molly out, now. It is about to get very gruesome in here."

John put a hand on Molly's shoulder but she nearly snapped at him, "Don't even think about it!" Her eyes were glued in awe to the body.

"Ok," John dropped his hand, a smirk tugging at his lips. He didn't want to leave either.

Sherlock poured more & more blood down the tube. Suddenly the corpse arched its back off the slab & screeched continuously. Molly yelped & buried her face in John's shoulder for a moment, but John himself looked about ready to faint. Unperturbed, Sherlock reached for the next dose of blood & went on pouring. He jumped back as wings shot out from either side, shuddering in stress. Sherlock grabbed the blackened wing closest to him & began smearing blood over it, then went around to the other wing to do the same.

"Easy now," Sherlock said softly. "I know it hurts, but you're just halfway through." He let more blood stream down the tube.

"I-It's fine, right?" John asked Molly. "It's actually a good thing. He's helping that vampire to heal."

"Yeah, yeah it's fine," Molly gulped, watching Sherlock lick blood off his own fingers. He looked up at the pair & sent them a long-pointed childish grin before turning back to his victim.

"I hate him, some days," John groaned.

Sherlock grabbed the next vessel of blood & went to work on the wings again. He had gone through almost three-thirds of the blood in the drawer. The awakening vampire could do nothing but shriek as seizures of pain racked his half-dried body. Strips of flesh became softer as blood soaked in. The massaging of Sherlock's hands was the only comfort available but barely registered through the torture. A bit of color was beginning to show. There were traces of brilliant emerald green on the shaking wings. A pinkish tinge was slowly spreading, driving the dried black away.

Sherlock moved away, licking his hands clean, almost cat-like, before laying aside his scarf, coat & a new replacement for the famous purple shirt of sex as everyone called it (much to his annoyance). He slid one foot back slightly & took a fighting stance. His ice-wings fluttered out & all points aimed forwards & his fangs were bared. His eyes turned red to match the droplets of blood slowly dripping down each ridge in his batlike wings.

"Whew!" John breathed. "If I didn't know him, I'd run."

"Mhmm," Molly shuddered beside him.

The vampire on the table fell to the floor & curled up in a ball, still aching. Sherlock never took his eyes off him. "Put the pain from your mind," He ordered.

"I can not."

"You will learn," Sherlock said. "Being a vampire is most painful. Even now, as my wings are cut out, my whole body aches."

"Vampire ..." The other looked up at Sherlock. He noticed the large wings & then the red glare. "Ohh, the legends be true." He stood up & looked around. "Keep thou away, monster!"

"This is not the way of things now & for thee, it is already too late," Sherlock raised one hand. A stream of water formed in the air & lifted up one green wing. "Behold thy wings."

"Ok, two things," Molly exclaimed under breath. "Is Sherlock doing magic & why are they talking like that?"

"All vampires & werewolves can do magic," said John. "Even me. I imprint. I'll explain that later. As for the language, Sherlock is three thousand years old. He knows every form of English."

"Thou didst turn me!" The other vampire grabbed his green wing for a moment before throwing it out as if to get away from it.

"Not I," Sherlock said as he moved closer & handed a lab coat. The other vampire held it close, but kept his focus on Sherlock. "A friend found thy body in the ground. I have revived thee. Saved thee."

"Saved? This is but a curse! Nothing more than a beast of the realms of hell! Oh that thou wouldst put a stave through mine heart instead! Put mine soul to ease!"

"Nay! Monsters, we are not," Sherlock replied. "Also, the stakes are myth. They do not harm ones such as we are."

"A wooden stave of the Aspen tree."

"Nay," Sherlock shook his head. "Only two ways to die. The bite of a Lycan or a wing ridge through the heart!" With lightening speed, Sherlock was on the other vampire, pressing him to the floor & putting one of his points over the heart. "What is thy name?"

"Alexander Vilein."

"Vilein?" Sherlock stood up & stretched one wing, then the other. "That is an old name."

"Who art thou?"

"I am the one asking questions," Sherlock replied. "What is thy birth year?"

"1579."

"Ah, well that explains much," Sherlock held a hand out. "Do not be afraid." Alexander crossed himself instead. "Nay, that will not work," Sherlock said. "Besides, thou art already of my kin. I can help thee."

Alexander refused the offered hand as he scooted around & pulled himself up by grasping the table's edge. "Not from a demon."

"I am from humankind," Sherlock insisted. "It is just a malady of death. There is a logical explanation for everything."

Alexander tried to process the common manner of speech as he looked around for a way out. He noticed Molly & John in the window. "Vampires!"

"Molly is human without the death's touch," Sherlock said. "John is a werewolf."

"Werewolf?" Alexander glanced at John, then suddenly realized a woman was there. He put his arms into the lab coat, wearing it backwards to cover his front for now. His wings took care of the rest.

Sherlock nodded. "Yes. Tell me, what year is it now?"

"Thou art bewitching me with questions!"

Sherlock pounced on Alexander, crashing through a table & into the wall. A wing point was once more placed over Alexander's heart. "I am nigh unto three thousand years old! It is unwise to challenge my power! What year?"

"1602!" Alexander gasped in fear.

"Hmm," Sherlock dropped him & walked away, thinking.

"SHERLOCK!" John yelled. "Look out!"

Alexander had just thrown himself onto Sherlock. Next moment, Alexander had landed in a heap on the other side of the room. Sherlock had thrown him off by flexing both wings up against Alexander's chest. "Like I said," Sherlock turned to face his opponent. "Thou hast little hope of defeating one such as I." He glanced up at the window. "I'm fine, John. I had expected him to do that."

"You could have mentioned that," John muttered.

"It's elementary, Dear Watson," Sherlock just laughed at him, then looked at Alexander. "John is a war doctor, from Afghanistan."

"A war ... doctor?"

"Yes, there have been several wars since your time," Sherlock replied.

Alexander looked at his surroundings again. "What is that?" he pointed at something.

"That is a modern invention," Sherlock answered. "Called a computer."

"Com ..."

"Computer," Sherlock tried again. "I will show thee. First, we must update your speech. We do not use thee or thou anymore."

"What meanest thou?"

"I understand thy speech due to mine age," Sherlock said. "But others, not so much. Thy body was found buried & left for dead for a very long time. It is an unfortunate common occurrence for our kind." He paused as his ringtone began chiming.

Alexander's eyes went wide. "What is that sound?"

"Do you mind if I get that?" Sherlock rolled his eyes & sounded for all the world like Moriarty. He turned to his coat & took out his mobile. Alexander slowly moved towards him. "I see thy approach," Sherlock turned sharply to him. "Try nothing! I can destroy thee, instantly." He pressed something on the mobile & held it up. "What do you want, Shane?"

"Did you awaken that vampire? You did, didn't you?"

"He is a case, Shane," Sherlock replied. "The way his body was dumped. Possible murder. Or attempted murder."

"Sherlock!" Sherrinford snapped. "This is not the way we do things & you know it!"

"I do know it & I don't care!" Sherlock replied. "Modern times need modern methods."

"Sherlock, you impossible, incorrigible!" Sherrinford stopped, too mad for words. In a forced calmer voice, he ground out. "So, what have you found out about him so far?"

Sherlock reached over & pulled open one of Alexander's wings to inspect it more closely. "His wings are emerald green. He is young. Only twenty-two or perhaps twenty-three when turned. Depends on the birth day. Born 1579. Turned & buried 1602." Sherlock pulled the mobile away from his ear as his brother screamed into it.

"YOU AWAKENED SOMEONE FROM FOUR HUNDRED YEARS AGO?!" Sherrinford was hopping from one foot to another in a rage. "Did you not take into account the kind of culture clash that poor sod has to go through? Just wait until I get my hands on you, little brother!"

The line clicked off & Sherlock put the mobile away. He grinned at Alexander. "My eldest brother. I love annoying him."

"You love annoying everyone," John complained.

"This is true," Sherlock wasn't even ashamed of it. He picked out the last bottle of blood from the drawer & held it out to Alexander. "Drink it. We can not let thee out until thy thirst is quenched. Molly has not given us permission to turn her."

"Molly?"

Sherlock waved a hand towards the window. "A friend of mine. A human girl, unturned. We are not to turn anyone without permission."

"Vampires are blood thirsty monsters."

"We need blood to survive," Sherlock said. "But we do not go on killing sprees any more. There is no need. We have blood banks for that." He pressed Alexander to the wall, trapping him between his icy wings. "Drink it. I insist. Thou wilt feel better." He opened the bottle & drank a little himself then offered the rest. "We both know thine urge for it."

The scent of it was strong for any vampire & Sherlock held the opened bottle close under Alexander's nose. The young vampire gave up, gave in & snatched the bottle, draining it in one shot. He shoved Sherlock out of the way & all but fell into the open casket drawer that still had a few bags left & sucked down every one of them.

"As I said," Sherlock used a wing point to scratch the back of his neck.

"How many people died for this?"Alexander demanded through tears.

"No one at all."

"Impossible!"

"It has been many years, centuries in fact, since thy recent discovery the other day," Sherlock said. "Many things have changed."

"Centuries?"

"My brother will be here shortly to pick thee up," Sherlock picked up his clothes as he headed for the door & sent a quick nod to Molly. "He will bring thee to my family's estate. It would be wise to learn from him. Oh & try not to scare off mine honeybees."

"Honeyb—who art thou?!" Alexander demanded again.

Molly pressed a button to let Sherlock out. Sherlock opened the door & turned to look at Alexander. "The year is 2016 & the name is Sherlock Holmes." With a click of his tongue & a wink, he left Alexander alone. Molly re-locked the door the moment it closed.

Alexander looked up at the window & saw Sherlock pass by, wings out of sight & pulling on his coat. "Who in the name of all that is holy is Sherlock Holmes?"

John burst out laughing. "You'll get used to him, Alexander. He did the same to me the day we first met. He's crazy."

"He is ... unusual."

John laughed again. "Yes. Very! Sherlock & I will look into y—um ... thy ... I do not know this well. We will meet again." He hurried out after Sherlock who was undoubtedly running off before his brother could show up to deal with him.

Alexander tested the door but it would not move. "I appear to be trapped here."

"That's right," said Molly. "Don't worry. We don't have any intention to harm you. Ye? I think the word is ye. I am looking this up right now." She was staring at a screen in front of her.

"I apologize for mine indecency at the moment," Alexander looked down at himself, still wearing the coat backwards & keeping his wings together behind himself.

"I cut up dead bodies for a living," Molly said. "You've been in my drawer for a few days. I've already seen everything."

"What is to be done now?" Alexander asked after a shocked look of horror.

"Just wait for Sherrinford."

"What is Sherrinford?"

"Who, not what," Molly corrected. "He is Sherlock's oldest brother."

"Another vampire?"

"Yes, all the Holmes are vampires."

"How many Holmes?"

Molly looked up from the screen. "There used to be four. Three brothers, Sherlock the youngest of them. Then their little sister, Enola. Mycroft was murdered by another vampire last year. We still don't talk about him much."

"The fate of all vampires should be destruction," Alexander said. "I am at a loss as to why such a beautiful lady does not run from me. Doth my appearance not cause fear?"

"I think your wings are very pretty," said Molly. "Vampires are not mindless monsters. I am friends with many of them."

"I am accursed," Alexander lamented.

"Not true!" Molly insisted. "Superstitious nonsense! Vampires have a normal life in this era. The biggest difference between us is that they can fly."

"I have not used these wings, yet."

"Sherlock flies around all the time," Molly said. "He won't admit it, but I think he quite enjoys showing them off now that vampires are well-known."

Alexander moved to the window, close to Molly. "Well-known? Dost m'lady sleep with pearls of garlic, perhaps?"

Molly looked at him. "No wonder everyone got turned four centuries ago. Garlic is a myth. If you want to keep a vampire out," She suddenly laughed. "Line your place with tin foil."

"What sorcery is that?"

"It is not sorcery. It is a kind of metal, shall we say? Something that works on cats to keep them off your kitchen counter," said Molly. "Does Alexander know what a cat is?"

"M'lady teases me."

Molly smirked at him. "Maybe. But we found out it scares vampires off as well. Sherlock nearly killed himself when he got spooked. Funniest thing I have ever seen! Actually, vampires are very similar to cats. John himself, said so."

"Dost m'lady have cats?"

"Molly, my name is Molly & no, I prefer rabbits."

"My mother made good rabbit stews, Madam Molly."

"JUST ... Molly & I will turn thee to ash before I let thee near any rabbits."

"Ah, she jests indeed," Alexander winked at her. Molly just glared. "What of children?"

"Not yet," Molly shrugged. "I'm not married at the moment."

Alexander stared at her. "A curse on men who let such a beautiful flower go ungathered."

Molly laughed. "I forget that ... uh ... thineself ... is from four hundred years ago. Things are different now."

"A woman does not change," Alexander disagreed. "Women are to be loved & taken care of."

"I agree on the love thing, but I can take care of myself, just fine," said Molly.

"So Molly is in love," Alexander stated.

Molly just shook her head. "He does not notice me."

"Then he is unworthy."

"Mm Alexander!" Molly blushed furiously.

"Tell me, who is this imbecile who dost not notice thy fair countenance? I shall beat some sense into him!"

"That won't work," Molly said, scanning furiously on her mobile to keep up with his archaic speech. "He has already defeated thine attempt earlier."

Alexander took some time to process that. "My lady feels love for Sherlock Holmes? But why?"

"I did not mention any names!"

"It is clear on thy face."

"Alexander! Drop it," Molly sighed. "He is not into that sort of thing, too much. He does not notice me in that way."

"I understand," Alexander nodded. "Few men would pass such a lovely lady by unless their interests lie elsewhere with unnatural attraction."

"Ohh boy!" Molly glared at him. "As Sherlock said, many things have changed. But though the whole of England wishes Sherlock ends up with John, that will not happen, either. Sherlock has no physical attraction. At all. He is not interested in beauty."

"All England wishes the union of two men?"

Molly nearly died laughing. "Alexander, it is very different now. Sherlock & John are famous throughout the land. They are best friends. But John is married to a woman & Sherlock is ... well, Sherlock."

A shuddering boom went through the whole building. Alexander lay back on the floor. "The earth shakes!"

"No, it's something else you have to get used to," said Molly. "He sent his chopper, did he?"

The building continued to shake as the Holmes helicopter landed on the roof. Sherrinford came down the stairs a few minutes later. "Where is he?"

"Still in my mor—"

"Sherlock! Where is Sherlock?"

"Oh," Molly rolled her eyes. "He & John are long gone."

"Of course he is," Sherrinford grumbled. "I will deal with him, later." At that, he went down to the door & entered to face Alexander. "So, your my brother's newest pet, are you? First a new Watson wolf, then the bees, now you. Whatever will I do with my brother?"

"Sir ... Sherrinford?"

"Oh, come now! We are way beyond such words," Sherrinford said. "First thing I will do is show you how to speak the way we do today. Put those wings away & let's go."

"Sir?"

"Your wings! Do you ... you don't. Great!" Sherrinford angrily gripped his long ponytail for a moment before flinging it back over his shoulder. He cursed Sherlock under breath, then advanced on Alexander. "It will hurt. Everything vampric hurts like hell. Get used to it. Get over it! Now focus on the wings & pull them in."

"Ma'am?" Alexander cast her a worried look.

"MOLLY!" She ordered. "This is Sherrinford Holmes. He is almost three thousand years old."

"Fold them behind & then draw them in," Sherrinford demonstrated with his own Phoenix-like orange-red wings.

It took a few tries, but Alexander eventually figured out how to control the wings. "What dost thou intendeth to do?"

"First put that coat on properly, then follow me," was all Sherrinford said. "Molly, when that aggravating brother of mine shows his face again, see that thou get ... YOU ... you get ... him to call me. Confound it all!" He glared at Alexander. "Now I'm starting to talk like thee. BUGGER IT! YOU!"

"I'm not taking sides," Molly doubled over in laughter.

Sherrinford rolled his eyes at her before leading Alexander up all the stairs to the door of the roof. Here he paused. "This is four hundred years later. It is very different now. Do not be afraid of the changes. Take my hand." He gripped Alexander's hand. "Do not let go. Nothing will harm you while I am here. Understand?" Alexander nodded quickly. Sherrinford opened the door to the roof & there sat a huge black monster. Fortunately, Sherrinford had the good sense to turn it off so it sat motionless & silent. "This is called a helicopter. It flies. Like us. It is my personal machine from the Secret Service. Part of the British government & after your time. Get in!"

"Sir? How?"

Sherrinford sighed heavily. "I hate my brother." He opened the door. "You do know what a door is? Get in & sit down. I am taking you home." Alexander slowly got in. Sherrinford spent a few minutes explaining how to buckle up before climbing in himself. After he closed the door, he turned to Alexander in the back seat. "I control this completely. It will make a lot of noise. Do not let it worry you."

Alexander's eyes went wide as the helicopter came to life & then yelled in surprise as it took off to the sky. When they landed by the Holmes castle, Alexander was stunned into silence & Sherrinford had to pry him out of the seat. When Alexander finally came out, he lay on the grass.

"What manner of sorcery is that?"

"No, that is not sorcery, that is progress," Sherrinford said. "This," He pulled some water out of the air & made a small mist. "Is sorcery. Something you could do as well."

"Sorcery is of the devil."

"You have a lot to learn, child!" Sherrinford hauled him up. "First thing is, Sherlock is trouble. A lot of trouble. Let me deal with him." He then smiled oh-so-sweetly. "Let's get inside!"