Sherlock's Kiss [Fuhua Vampire Colleague]

After John Watson poked the damn vampire blind, the room was silent.

Sherlock turned his head and stared at the night demon-like figure. Sebastian Moran was a burly man, and he also looked at the two of them with cold and sinister eyes. John Watson's heart throbbed out of nowhere. , looking frightened, Sherlock immediately reached out to block the gaze between him and Sebastian.

John Watson was protected by him, so he was able to break away from the strong hypnotic magnetic field. He took a step back, panting as if recovering from a serious illness, his face was pale, he lowered his head and said to Sherlock, "His damn His eyes...almost clamped me down."

Sherlock didn't say anything, just confronted Sebastian with cold eyes. Mycroft picked up a napkin cloth in the hall and wiped the blood from his fingers. Yao Sulin succumbed to the blood splashed on him by the waiter, and was defeated by Mycroft's power. She knelt in the hall and glared at McCulloft, but she could no longer resist, because she Already lost, continuing to fight would only give Mycroft an excellent excuse to kill her.

The thick moonlight crawled into the hall, and there was no movement between Sebastian and Sherlock. Their eyes were dark and empty, and Sherlock couldn't move away. He looked very powerful, no matter how terrifying the other party's stare was. Locke will never move away, and Sebastian will not relax at all. John Watson just entered his pupil, and there is a hell hidden in it, which makes people feel desperate at a glance.

Sherlock gritted his teeth, and Sebastian moved in front of him. Sherlock's face was stern, the veins on his forehead were bulging, and several blood vessel meridians were prominent on his neck. Sebastian seemed a little shaken. Moved one step to the left.

Neither of the two of them spoke again. After almost 10 minutes, Sebastian suddenly walked forward and knocked several chairs down on the wooden floor. He made a hoarse voice and growled unwillingly. , bowed his head and picked up the fruit knife on the round table, the blade coldly drew a silver-white light in the air, Sebastian pressed the knife to his own throat excitedly, but asked unwillingly : "You think you can do it! Sherlock Holmes! Do you think you can manipulate me to commit suicide in front of your eyes?!"

"Don't be nervous, relax, I just want you to cut your throat and let the blood flow out like a fountain, just like those humans who died in this car." Although Sherlock said very confidently, he looked It sounds very nervous, and it is almost impossible to be distracted.

It made John Watson at a loss behind him, and he had no use for the situation in front of him except to shut up and wait and see.

The appearance of Sebastian holding the knife and hovering around the carotid artery made John Watson feel really interesting and weird. The knife in his hand was moving towards his chin inch by inch, and Sebastian's eyes remained still. Trapped in Sherlock's stare, he couldn't help it, and raised his other hand to grab his hand holding the knife, trying to prevent himself from committing suicide.

"Mr. Sebastian," Sherlock said, "I have to tell you that I'm not very good with a knife compared to hand-to-hand combat. I haven't practiced knife skills, but I believe I can still cut you off with one knife." Thin neck."

"Hmph," Sebastian said, "I ran so far to catch up with you, not to give you a chance to kill me." The fruit knife that was moving around stopped.

Sebastian gave him a smug smile.

Sherlock also smiled, and he quickly ran up to Sebastian and grabbed his chin, "Living for 600 years, huh, that's all you can do? How can a vulgar human being like you be killed by someone?" That elder fell in love with him and gave you a gift, I have to say he is too blind." Sherlock stared at him.

Sebastian cursed in the palm of his hand, held up the knife, blood flashed, a flash of gorgeous blood splashed into the air, splashed onto Sherlock's clothes, Sebastian finally couldn't resist Sherlock's hypnotic power , stabbing the knife into his throat, Sherlock released him, took a step back, and looked at him.

Sebastian slowly pulled the knife out of his neck, and the sharp edge reappeared in everyone's sight covered with blood. He dropped the knife, roaring like a beast, and the dark bloodstains came from his throat. Seeping out non-stop, he covered his cut throat with the palm of his hand, Sebastian roared hoarsely, and opened his mouth in front of Sherlock to reveal long white teeth, sharp and frightening, he quickly He turned around, smashed the car window with his fist, jumped in the air, squatted on the window frame, turned around in front of the window, stared at Sherlock Holmes with blood-red eyes, and the ferocious fangs grew to his chin, He looked at Sherlock with a devilish expression.

John Watson thought he was remembering Sherlock's face.

Then the badly wounded devil leaped into the night, while the train still went on, its huge wheels hitting the steel tracks.

The other two defeated vampires he brought were like poor fleeing creatures. Yao Sulin supported her blind companion, and Jeff moaned/groaned miserably for his damaged eye socket. The two of them backed away in front of the two Holmes. He walked to the cracked car window, and then jumped on the window frame resentfully, hiding into the night.

Sherlock always maintained a tall and straight posture, with a cold face.

"It's over." Mycroft turned coldly and said to the other blood followers, "Why don't you go to your wing room and have a happy aftertaste of this war? Please, let your master rest quietly .”

Those vampires put down their wine glasses and walked outside in resentment. Mycroft watched Miss Adler and Jielin go out. These two female vampires were very guilty and couldn't look at Sherlock again. They lowered their heads and blinked. Into the shadows outside the hall.

Only two vampires and a human doctor were left in the hall.

John Watson stood in the middle of the ballroom splattered with blood and evil, and the corpses and blood reminded him of the terrible misfortunes that had passed here.

Mycroft walked into the silent hall, poured a glass of house wine, and drank it, the torn body lying next to his shoes.

"He will recruit more powerful characters to this car in the future, Sebastian Moran, he is a servant of a certain elder, I saw the unwillingness in his eyes, he will take revenge," McCaw Loft drank another glass of wine, his voice became much calmer, "Sherlock, are you still standing still?"

John Watson felt a chill when he heard this sentence, and he jumped a little. He ran to Sherlock, "Sherlock?"

Sherlock was silent for a moment in front of him, then turned around and unbuttoned his blood-stained suit jacket with the torn hem. His actions seemed to be indifferent, but John Watson did feel that Sherlock was more serious than usual. pale.

Sherlock trembled a little, his lips were tightly pressed, he opened his coat, John Watson was surprised to see his shirt turned up, John Watson threw away his crutches nervously, and tore his shirt with a doctor's professional technique, bleeding The blood-soaked chest was exposed, and two broken ribs pierced through the flesh and pierced out of his chest.

Sherlock just hummed softly, he walked slowly to the recliner and sat down.

John Watson was stunned by the recliner, "When..."

"When I cut his carotid artery with my claws, at that moment, he grabbed my chest and broke my ribs with his fingers." Sherlock sat on the sofa tiredly, looking very painful, but he was still enduring , he gave John Watson a forced smile, but the smile faded and was replaced by a frown.

It turned out that he had been wounded long ago, but he still endured the pain and tried his best to stop the vampire monster that had lost its eyeballs in a very timely manner in front of John Watson.

Then Sherlock did a terrible thing in front of him. He raised his slender and strong fingers, pressed the ribs protruding from the flesh, and slowly pushed the bones into his body. Sherlock clenched his teeth , humming like being tortured, he stopped, the bone was still exposed/exposed, he was out of breath, "No, the inside part is also broken, it happened to hit my lung, I can't connect it back , I have to pull/out/out the bone."

"Of course, I think these two bones are indeed useless. You don't lack ribs. Anyway, they will grow back in seven or eight days. Do you need my assistance?" Mycroft looked down at him quietly from a distance.

Sherlock shook his head, John Watson stepped forward, "Let me, Sherlock, I can give you an anesthetic..."

Mycroft laughed a couple of times, shaking his laughter in front of his suffering brother, his face darkened for a moment, and he glared at John Watson: "Naive little doctor, anesthetics are useless to us, It will only turn into a substance like water in our circulatory system, no matter what medicine is basically useless, even arsenic and potassium cyanate, it will only be digested by us and converted into water, so you cunning No living person can poison us."

John Watson stared back at him, "Conceited vampire, your brother is dying, can you stop making such a face that has nothing to do with you, I don't care how much you ridicule me, I know my ability is limited, but I fucking just want to help him, not just leisurely watching and drinking from the sidelines."

"I watched the fun? I was the only blood in this hall who was helping him get ahead, because he is my younger brother, you know, John Watson, if I had no blood relationship with him, I would sit on that sofa and be indifferent Watch him drive off the invaders and see if he is qualified to be my leader."

John Watson was about to tell his well-qualified gentleman that Midley had a thing called "Helpful Hands".

Mycroft glanced at the dismembered corpses in the hall, looking at him coldly, "You know very well what can relieve his pain, the blood of a living person, he just needs to drink the blood with life With less pain, the bone pulls/extracts/comes out effortlessly, and two new ones grow quickly."

John Watson clenched his fists before him.

"Hmph, I think so too. You won't donate blood to him kindly anymore, because in your heart, only the servants of the blood clan will move the blood bank repeatedly. You are hesitating in your heart, Dr. Watson. If you hesitate, it means You don't really want to give him fresh human blood."

"Shut up, Mycroft, I said I wouldn't do that to him again, and I've done what I said, you can't talk to John like that again, you can't force him, put pressure on him."

"I don't have time to spend more time with him. My brother, you have seen what it looks like when I really persecute a person. You have seen it before, and I don't mind performing it again."

While the two brothers were talking, John Watson heard only a soft collision, and within two seconds Sherlock Holmes disappeared from the recliner in front of him. John Watson immediately turned around and saw Mycroft slamming Grabbing Sherlock's clothes, he pushed him to the ground, and Sherlock knelt down on all fours.

A waiter who hadn't really died was breathing weakly in a pool of blood, his fingers were trembling slightly in the blood plasma, his chest was torn open, blood flowed all over the ground behind him, Sherlock's back was forcefully punched by his brother Pressing down, his noble and proud face was very close to the dying man's chest.

"Drink his blood! He can't be saved anyway, drink him while he's still alive, Sherlock! His blood can nourish you and relieve you from the pain." Mycroft said sharply The nails grabbed his back and pressed him down fiercely.

"That's what I call real help, Doctor, just watch," said Mycroft calmly.

Sherlock struggled to stand up under his sharp claws, the bone in his lungs made him too painful to fight back against his brother, and the mangled waiter was only a finger away from Sherlock's face, Sherlock With his hands in a pool of blood, he screamed in resistance, and he reached out and grabbed his brother's strong arm. The smile on the corner of his brother's mouth disappeared, leaving only a terrifying severity.

"Drink him, he's going to die anyway, before he dies, drink him," said Mycroft darkly.

"I don't!" Sherlock desperately resisted and struggled in his push.

John Watson hurriedly yelled, "Stop it! Mycroft!"

Mycroft didn't even look at him, and concentrated on pressing his brother's hairy head. Sherlock resisted painfully under the curly hair, his slender fingers resting on the dying waiter's body, and he stared at The broken chest that exposed the internal organs paused for a moment.

His eyes were burning, but Sherlock quickly cooled down his burning pupils. His messy clothes and trousers were dyed red by his own wounds, sticking to the skin. Sherlock's two exposed penis The ribs were infiltrated red with blood, and the blood flow was like water droplets climbing on the broken bone tips and dripping down continuously.

"Drink his blood! Sherlock! This is your instinct! You use him to heal your wounds, and he deserves to die. You didn't waste a life in vain!"

"Go away! Mycroft!" Sherlock cursed his brother furiously, "Get away! Get your dirty hands off of me!" Sherlock knelt on the ground, his face pressed against the waiter In the bloody entrails, the waiter grunted involuntarily, like a deer in a trap waiting to die.

Sherlock confronted his brother crazily, he raised his blood-stained face with all his strength, as if struggling from the sea, he was in a panic.

His brother said in a low voice, "Lick the blood on your lips, taste Sherlock, as long as you lick a mouthful, you will be irresistible, then I don't need to force you so hard, you will take the initiative like a little buffalo I stuck it in his arms and kept sucking, my picky eater brother, this is your proper meal, the blood of a living person, my brother, this blood has the effect of healing!"

Sherlock glared at his brother resentfully. Under the blood-red face, it could be seen that he tried his best to restrain the expression of blood desire. His pale face was grinning, his eyes were shining with fanaticism and hunger, scarlet, old, and helpless. It can be destroyed, for a moment, a blood-red liquid slipped from the corner of his eye, like blood, more like tears, Sherlock didn't cry out.

He raised his head and wailed like a collapse. The wail sounded like the siren of the Scarlet Rebirth in the wilderness. After the mournful cry, this miserable blood clan still tried his best to wake him up from the bloodthirsty impulse.

"I don't! He's human! He's alive! I don't want to touch him!"

With indifference and cruelty on his face, Mycroft grabbed his proud curly hair, "It's useless to resist, it will only make your injury worse, you'd better give up, Sherlock... he is already dead, Can you understand..."

There was a loud clatter and another loud noise. John Watson looked at the wreckage of the chair in his hand in surprise. Only a tattered back of the chair remained in John Watson's hand. John Watson recovered from his astonishment, bathed in anger and candlelight, as if a ball of fire spewed out of a furnace, and he was mad with anger , It seems that the flames of anger are lingering on the shoulders, and the doctor's neck is flushed with anger and blood.

"You!" John Watson, who is not tall and looks very miniature, strode over, sweat slipped from his dirty face, beads of sweat covered his forehead, and the sweat soaked his shirt, His eyes were like two pieces of cold green marble, dragging the wreckage of the chair with one hand, he approached majestically closer.

"Didn't you fucking hear him! He doesn't want to suck blood!" John Watson dropped the back of the chair, pressed his palms on Mycroft's chest, and pushed him away several steps with force.

Mycroft let go of his hand, standing a few meters away, he seemed to be stunned.

John Watson squatted down, knelt in front of Sherlock, stretched out his arms and embraced him vigorously. The poor vampire buried his face in his chest and trembled non-stop. John Watson hugged him tightly. On his back, stroking his hair with one hand, comforting Sherlock Holmes whose soul is close to being broken with gentle strength.

John Watson looked up at his brother with angry and determined eyes.

John Watson said slowly: "You are a beast, but you don't know why you became a beast, Mycroft." John Watson stared at him straight and fearless, like a brave knight .

Mycroft's face changed with irritation at his words, his pale face was full of bewilderment, and then replaced by resentment, he turned and left angrily, walked out of the hall completely, abandoning them two people.

Sherlock slowly calmed down in his arms, "Has my brother left?" Sherlock asked softly, buried in his arms.

"Yes, Sherlock."

As if awakened from a deep dream, Sherlock raised his head between John Watson's arms and smiled at him, "What should I say, John, your words are about to piss my brother off. died."

John Watson laughed hoarsely: "I have forgotten what I said to him. I was so angry just now that I almost forgot my last name."

Sherlock blinked in his arms, the bloodthirsty scarlet in the depths of his pupils had disappeared, leaving only hazy gray eyes as clear as water, "So, John, I am in your heart, not A beast."

"I didn't think of you as a monster from the beginning. I explained it long ago. That time I blurted out the impulse. You were never a beast, Sherlock. You are indeed a person. You are a person and nothing else. What." John Watson stroked his features with warm fingers, wiped the filthy, sticky corners of his eyes, and wiped the blood from his flawless face.

The waiter under the two knees was able to die in this second, and the blood-red chest no longer rose and fell. He rolled his lifeless eyelids to the side, and the blood was still slowly soaking the floor.

"He's dead." John Watson looked down at the body with lowered eyelids.

Sherlock nodded wearily, "I have to go back to my room, it's almost dawn."

John Watson walked down the narrow aisle with his arms crossed, and the dim kerosene lamp burned above his head, which would not be extinguished until after dawn.

"What about your ribs?" asked John Watson.

Sherlock stood at the door of his wing and opened a crack. He turned his head and looked at John Watson with a smile. There was warmth in this smile, like sunlight shining on the surface of a river. In his eyes, this smile is like relief, like gratitude.

"I'll take care of myself, I will," he said, "and when it gets dark next time, you'll find me just as I was before, strong, healthy, nothing wrong, and I'm still Sherlock Holmes."

"I'll wait for you to wake up."

Sherlock nodded, closed the door in front of his eyes, and locked it.

John Watson felt sick to his stomach not long after the door closed. He raised his hands and looked at the blood on his body. There was human blood, the blood of the vampire, and Sherlock's blood. His body leaned to the side. Try not to throw up on the luxurious stream wallpaper.

Blood, internal organs, body remains, no matter how strong John Watson was, the scene he saw tonight was really appalling.

He thought he was going to have nightmares.

He barely straightened up, walked back to his guest room, took a suit of clothes, went to the bathroom to clean himself, his barrel was red with blood, John Watson thought that no waiter would come out to serve him tonight, so he had to Going himself to the boiler room to refill a wooden barrel and allowing himself a relaxing soak in the clean hot water, John Watson was amazed that he had survived the battle unscathed.

He was lying on the bed in clean and soft pajamas, his spirit was still under high tension and it was difficult to fall asleep. He thought about everything that happened tonight for a long time.

Do you know, Dr. Watson, that other people's lives are very important to me, and I am willing to make sacrifices for which I would be foolish.

John Watson turned around under the covers, facing the quiet guest room and meditating.

You are a lovely human being, longing for a fantastic long-distance travel and small adventures in life, but, Dr. Watson, everything on this train is not as simple as you think, this is not a Adventure, this is a journey to death. There are villains, liars, killers, and all kinds of cruel enemies along the way. Every night, I start the train with the determination to die. At sunset, I hit the road with a dead heart, and after sunrise, I fell asleep with the gratitude of my doom.

"Sherlock..." John Watson experienced this hellish darkness, torment and cruel night, and he felt that he was completely in love with a great man.

The author has something to say:

In the next chapter, it’s time to fall in love again, and I won’t get tired of their various [When Love Is Strong] plots

Thank you children's shoes for feeding with comments. Some children's shoes said that it would be a tragedy if both of them became humans, because they would die if they were bitten by other vampires [en thinking]

Let me come every day

Update tomorrow~