Sherlock's Kiss [Fuhua Vampire Colleague]

Moriarty had an indifferent, cruel smile on his face. His target was not Mycroft.

Sherlock's legs were rooted, and he knew that if he attacked, John Watson would fall in a pool of blood before he could reach Moriarty. Trade has learned that maybe Sherlock can kill Moriarty, but if John Watson dies, the result is the worst for Sherlock, which is no different from revenge failure.

Moriarty was also at an impasse.If he kills John Watson, he will lose the capital to blackmail Sherlock, but will anger him instead, and Sherlock will definitely attack him like crazy.

Obviously, Moriarty is afraid of this situation. He can't estimate Sherlock's potential. Even if he is confident that Sherlock may not be able to defeat him, as long as he miscalculates once, he will die under Sherlock's claws , he might as well continue this effortless game and let John Watson humiliately let his sweetheart be burned to death by the sun.

John Watson felt weak and hopeless, his arms ached like hell, and there was nothing he could do now.

He tried to push Moriarty away, but it was too difficult.

John Watson knew that he would never be able to do it. As usual, he began to regret his humble strength. He resented that he always hindered Sherlock's footsteps. Blind in both eyes, he's fine now, he's broken his left arm, he bit his lips, trying to think of other ways, but the only way John Watson could think of was simple, direct, and stupid, That is, Sherlock ignored him and rushed over to kill Moriarty.

But John Watson knew that if he did this, he would surely die.

As the sun rises in the east, the golden sun bursts from the tip of the mountain, splashing thousands of strong golden lights. Sherlock's whole body looks unfathomable. His whole body is tense. With a circle of burns, his fair skin began to curl up, revealing the pink flesh inside, and soon, he would bleed and tear, and his lips would be dry and cracked.

In the silence, 10 minutes passed, and the sky became brighter and brighter.

"Does the sun make you uncomfortable, Sherlock Holmes?" Moriarty asked him after confronting him for a while. "If you want to be human, you really should get used to the sun. All animals like the sun." He said Laughed.Then, his smile faded away, as suddenly as it bloomed.

Sherlock didn't answer, and Moriarty didn't speak again.

Without saying a word, Sherlock stared straight at Moriarty, his eyes seemed to fall into nothingness, his eyes flashed a dark red light under his handsome eyebrows, they were a pair of inhuman eyes , no matter how much he wants to be an accomplice of human beings, he is always different from human beings, his pupils are as cold and firm as coals, with light constantly flashing inside.

But the beast he was facing was crouching in the darkness, with its murderous eyes open, staying in the shade of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sun was rising behind the manor, and Moriarty's position would not be exposed to the sun until noon. Sunshine, he clamped John Watson tightly, his sharp claws were very close to his face, it was frightening, Moriarty just squatted here and waited, there was no expression on his ageless face, and Sherlock's eyes were vicissitudes. Same, all empty.

There was a groan from Sherlock's lips, it was a half-suppressed cry of pain, he put one hand on his scorched forehead, and then lowered his head involuntarily, covering his face with the shadow of his palm, his skin It's already pink, and it won't be long before it will turn red, and then it will be burnt and turn black.

With his sixth sense, John Watson could sense that the life force was disappearing from Sherlock's body.

What supported him to stay in the scorching fire so stubbornly?

Suddenly John Watson felt compelled to say something.

"Kill him," he cried, "Sherlock, get out of there, kill him, to the devil. Leave me alone." He had said exactly what Lestrade had said, and his end would inevitably be the same. Same for Lestrade.

Sherlock looked up, smiling weakly. "No."

"Damn it, you stubborn fool, do as I say! I'm a bloody cripple and my life doesn't mean anything. Sherlock, do as I say!"

Sherlock shook his head, and this time, he raised his hands and buried his face in them.

John Watson shuddered.His arms ached like hell, and he fought back the tears deep in his eyes, and he cursed until he flushed, which was better than weeping like a damned woman, and then he cried, "Sherlock! I'll never forget you in my life. I know what you are! I've always known!"

Sherlock smiled, and though the smile was full of pain, John Watson felt his emotions in the endless despair and darkness.

It was clear that Sherlock was getting weaker and weaker.

Moriarty said slowly, "It will take some more time, Sherlock, you and I both know how long the limit is, if you can pass the limit, then I will admit it, you are indeed stronger than me , but can you? There is no blood race in the world who can survive the limit, no."

John Watson suddenly realized that sunlight might kill him!

Sherlock had been hiding this from him!Damn Sherlock!Why not tell him!If John Watson knew earlier, he would never have let Sherlock stand under the sun!Damn and arrogant vampire!

If Sherlock died at this moment, and he survived, he would be alone forever.

Then John Watson understood that Moriarty had won, and he thought sadly that Sherlock would be sunburned for his sake, and that the wicked, wise, patient, and extremely strong elder would be the winner.

John Watson thought to himself, if only he could be as quick and strong as a vampire, but John Watson was neither quick nor strong, and his arm was broken, and the pain was so severe that he could never jump up and throw Moriah away. Dee pushed away.

Time passed, 20 minutes passed, Sherlock was slowly sinking down, he was almost unable to stand on the grass.

Moriarty smiled, pleased with his compliance.

"It's useless! Sherlock! Tell me! Are you going to die? If you die, he won't spare me! Why don't you kill him now!"

The sun slowly covered Sherlock's whole body, and the skin on his face peeled off. The sun was climbing to the sky, and the surrounding light became very bright. Sherlock felt extremely uncomfortable. He lowered his head like a heavy blow. If John Watson could see the bright red color on his face, he would definitely cry out of distress.

He looked like he wanted to scream, as if he was in great pain. He tried his best to keep his body balanced, but finally knelt down weakly, his whole body was shaking non-stop.

30 minutes passed.

Sherlock's otherwise beautiful lips were swollen and blistered, and his eyes were red and swollen, with blood streaming from their sockets.Now, his whole body is in excruciating pain, his eyes are closed, his breathing is full of pain, the skin on his face has already been stretched open, his muscles are starting to burn, and white smoke is rising from his shoulders, as if To disappear from the grass.

Sherlock raised his head and roared in pain under the scorching sun, revealing his long white teeth. The back and arms under his clothes were constantly cracking, and the wounds were blood red and full of blisters. Sherlock screamed in pain and raised his head. He covered his face with his bright red hands, trying to block the scorching sun. If he could drink blood immediately, he would feel much better.

Sherlock was trembling crazily, his face became so terrifying that he didn't even dare to touch it, he was pointlessly blocking the blazing sun with his fingers in the air, he didn't dare to get close to his own flesh, lest his Hands will peel off the whole skin.

"Sherlock," cried John Watson from inside the house, "what the hell are you doing there! Come here and kill him!"

Sherlock knelt in the grass, his body kept emitting white smoke full of burnt smell, and his red and scorching hands spasmed in pain.

"Damn it!" roared John Watson. "Sherlock! Leave me alone!"

More than 30 minutes have passed, he doesn't know how long Sherlock can hold on, he is looking forward to is there any other way to end all this?

Moriarty is stronger than Sherlock because he has no weakness, no hesitation, no dreams.

Sherlock has been taming the beast in his heart with medicine and wine, letting his killing nature and his blood desire obey his will. He has been using humanity to fight against the enemy. John Watson thought that only humanity is not enough.

Sherlock can't win.

John Watson frowned in pain, something in his mind kept nagging at him, he tried to figure out what it was, the concept was too vague for John Watson to capture accurately, his The arm twitched and ached.He wished he had some of Sherlock's awful potion, it tasted awful and had blood in it, but Sherlock said it had laudanum in it and all the doctors knew it would take away the pain , any pain can be eliminated, much more effective than ordinary wine.

John Watson bit his lip, what was he thinking?Need Sherlock's bloody potion to soothe a throbbing arm?No, what he was thinking about was Sherlock's killing instinct. He was thinking that since Sherlock is a vampire, although he is very kind, he should still have the desire to kill, just like when he suddenly woke up from sleep. Just like the onset of rage...

John Watson whimpered. He wanted to see what Sherlock had become. He tried to look in Sherlock's direction. It was dark and disturbed vampire. He began to think about it, when Sherlock When his belly is empty and disturbed, he will go berserk regardless of the lure of blood. If he wakes up the sleeping beast in Sherlock, what will happen?What are the consequences of that?

John Watson's brain was not fast, and the answer suddenly came to his mind.The side effects of the medicinal wine, the damn equivalent exchange, he thought, Sherlock's suppressed hunger had reached an insatiable state.

If it can make his hunger and thirst attack!If he can awaken his beast!Maybe it is stronger than that beast of the devil elder, and Sherlock's hope of winning will increase a lot!

For a moment, John Watson was shocked by a strong sense of excitement, but in a blink of an eye, his thoughts leaked out.

Moriarty heard his inner voice, and said contemptuously, "Your idea is completely unrealistic, he has been drinking medicinal wine, and his beast has long been old and frail, and you can't awaken the blood craze in his heart." , this frenzy is your only chance, but you can't do it. He is dying, did he tell you that the limit he can support in the hot sun is only 40 minutes, and in another 5 minutes, his bones will be broken It will catch fire, and then it will go to ashes, disappearing from this world forever."

Sherlock had indeed begun to have a tendency to burn, and his clothes were torn as if they had been scalded by coals.

"Damn it," John Watson muttered, his brow furrowed, knowing that there was nothing he could do but wait for Sherlock to be burned slowly, and as time passed, Sherlock became He was getting weaker and weaker, and he dared not rush forward so long as John Watson's life was in danger.

If there is any way to arouse his hunger and thirst, he must find a way.But how can hunger and thirst come?Sherlock said that hunger and thirst would occur several times a month, and sometimes he would be hungry and thirsty for several days in a row, but if the medicinal wine worked, he would become obedient and obedient.Are there other factors, other triggers for hunger?John Watson thought there might be more, but he couldn't think of one.Maybe anger helps, but it's not enough.What about blood?A little blood might not be able to lure him, make his heart flutter, so... how about a lot of blood?What if that blood was the best Sherlock had drank in all his long eternity?What if the blood was so beautiful and sweet enough to drive him crazy and occupy his sanity?

John Watson also felt the rising temperature around him. He twisted forcefully under Moriarty, and his arm snapped even louder. He was about to pass out from the pain, but John Watson persisted with strong willpower. , he twisted his arm, and Moriarty pressed him hard.

"Kill me!" John Watson yelled, "You fucking kill me!"

John Watson twisted vigorously again, and with the other hand, he took out a small silver pocket knife from his clothes pocket. This was originally used by Sherlock to cut the sealing wax of wine bottles. John Watson raised the knife , he began to think about Sherlock and all the things he had been through, all those dark nights, and the beautiful and sweet times.

"Sherlock..." John Watson stabbed the knife into his heart impartially. He knew the heart's location very well, and the blood gushed out a lot. John Watson remembered that he and Sherlock were inseparable on the platform. On the night of saying goodbye, he held the little bat and strongly wanted to throw himself into Sherlock's arms and stay with him for the rest of his life. His mood now is the same as then.

"No!" Shouted Sherlock, his face bruised and red, "John! Stop it!"

John Watson pulled the knife out of his chest and let the blood flow unimpeded, and then he did something that surprised Moriarty too, he stuck the knife in his own carotid artery Inside, Moriarty had to let go of him, and John Watson was finally able to roll over, lying weakly on his back on the floor.

He slowly, with the last bit of strength, pulled the knife from his neck. The blood gushed out like water in a spring, and the bloody smell immediately overflowed. John Watson seemed to feel no pain, and his arms were numb. Falling to the ground, paralyzed there, "Kill him... Live... Sherlock..." He squeezed out these words hoarsely, his eyes wide open, nothing but darkness in his sight, he His pupils collapsed and lost their original vitality.

Moriarty watched him dying, smiling ironically, and he looked at Sherlock's charred cheeks, "It's just the two of us now," he said, "It's just the two of us, dear train Long, you are about to turn into ashes."

Suddenly, Sherlock uttered a howl that was half growl, half scream, rose from the grass, and swooped head-on at Moriarty, who backed away in surprise, bumping into Moran, The two of them fell to the ground. Sherlock waved his broken claws and swept across Moriarty's body. Moriarty rolled on the ground in a little embarrassment. Lan grabbed him and threw him into the sun outside the window with a "bang". Moran screamed in the scorching sun immediately, and then ran away without a trace as if saving his life.

Moriarty stood up, followed by Sherlock. Sherlock's face was dripping with blood, but in his misty eyes that were narrowed, there was a haze of blood and pain, and the smell of John Watson's blood struck Seeing the boiling momentum in his body, he burst out madly with anger and frenzied hunger.

Sherlock approached slowly, while Moriarty stepped back, smiling.

"This is you, Sherlock Holmes, this is you, look at your face, bloodthirsty, hungry and thirsty, red eyes, you have hidden this posture for too long, you have played good human beings for too long, This is your true nature, you are just like me."

Sherlock stopped and glanced at John Watson.

For Moriarty, this moment was extremely long.He was waiting for the results, to see which side hunger and thirst would push Sherlock, to see which one, Sherlock or his beast, would be the master.It would be the most satisfying ending for Moriarty if Sherlock threw himself on his lover's blood, addicted and intoxicated.

Finally, Sherlock withdrew his bright red eyes and smiled faintly at Moriarty.The fight resumed.

Moriarty's cold black eyes met Sherlock's eyes through the morning light, but Sherlock's strength made him immediately lower his eyes.

"I'll keep chasing you until you surrender," Sherlock said in a hollow voice.

"Come closer," murmured Sherlock, "come closer to me."

Moriarty was oppressed by his aura in turn, he had never seen such a hungry vampire, as if thirsty for thousands of years, Moriarty looked at him. "What do you want, Holmes?"

"It's nothing, I don't want anything, I just want to suck blood now." Sherlock said, and rushed over, his fangs exposed in the air, faster than the devil.

Moriarty immediately turned around and sprinted down the stairs. He found Sherlock sprinting over the wall, circled in front of him, and landed straight. Standing there, his eyes were red like a demon. His speed was astonishing. The burns began to heal slowly.

Moriarty tried his best to maintain elegance, he squeezed out a forced smirk, and said to Sherlock: "You are the same as me, think about it, I am your kind, my blood can't satisfy your hunger and thirst, See, there's only one living person here, and what's lying on the ground is what you're going to drink from."

"Good things are always saved for last."

He walked towards Moriarty step by step, the distance between the two gradually narrowed, Sherlock's fiery gaze almost swallowed Moriarty, "I really want you to lie on the ground and beg I."

"I won't lie on the ground and beg anyone!" Moriarty said angrily, "Shut up! Who do you think you are! You're just a little devil who lived two hundred years old!"

"But my hunger and thirst will not lose to you, I'm so thirsty..." Sherlock said with a grim face, "ah, who can understand me, the hunger and thirst in my body is like a fire burning me!" His chest rose suddenly and turned into a violent snort, but it was strange that his tone was very calm.

He repeated incoherently, like a person with a high fever, delirious, "I want revenge... I want to kill you... I have never had such an urgent desire to kill you before, I want to tear your pale face throat, taste your blood! My fury, ah, is beyond words, you can't understand me!" Sherlock suddenly struggled between hunger and thirst and half-consciousness.

Moriarty waited until Sherlock stopped struggling.

Then he said half-quietly: "Sherlock Holmes, you must be very thirsty."

"Yes," Sherlock stared straight at him, grinning oddly. "Let me taste your blood first to quench my thirst."

Sherlock forced him to a corner of the room, stretched out his fangs, grabbed Moriarty's neck, found an angle, and sank the fangs into his neck effortlessly. Imagining the strength, Moriarty instantly weakened, his hands slowly hanging down, blood was dripping between Sherlock's lips, Moriarty looked delirious, as if in a dream.

He greedily sucked the blood of the same kind of blood. The blood was very cold and could not heal his wounds. Sherlock sucked half of him. At this moment, there was a gunshot outside the manor. Sherlock raised his head from his neck, Licking his bright red lips, it was the vampire hunter, and he realized that it was the humans he released from the cellar that had lured the vampire hunter here.

Sherlock let go of Moriarty with great difficulty. He was still hungry and thirsty, and he didn't drink enough blood at all. He quietly walked out from the corner of the room, his eyes seemed blank.You could see the sadness in his heart from his eyes.

Sherlock knelt in the pool of John Watson's blood, stretched out his hand, and embraced his limp body in his arms. John Watson remained motionless with his eyes closed.

Sherlock sniffed his thick blood. At this moment of silence, no one knew what Sherlock was thinking in his heart. Did he really want to be alone with John Watson in peace?Or coveted his warm blood that kept flowing out?He stared at John Watson's fragmented carotid artery cut by a knife for a long time, black plasma gurgled down the outline of his neck, wet his clothes, and pierced his heart with a big / hole / hole , John Watson can't be saved, no matter how clever a human doctor is, he can't be saved.

Sherlock stared at his blood for a long time, until the hunter kicked open the gate of the manor.

Sherlock hugged him and disappeared outside the manor in an instant.

There are countless rotten logs piled up on the river bed of this dry waterfall. Maybe this waterfall will come back to life after a hundred years, but who can say what will happen after a hundred years.

Mycroft raised his head towards the sky, he stood tiredly under the shade of the tree, his face was slightly red and burned, the sun was shining above him, making him look pale and weak, he had not been so brave for a long time Facing the sun at midday.

He is not like his younger brother, who always abuses himself. Sherlock's dream is to let the people of the day and the people of the night live in peace and trust each other, so Mycroft's dream is to return to his true destination.

He held Lestrade in his arms, endured the pain under the scorching sun, and jumped over the waterfall. As long as he entered the grotto, he would be much better. It was dark here, and the ground sloped slightly downward.

The stalactites dripped moisture-laden water droplets overhead, and the moss had the dull gray color of his night vision.Mycroft couldn't stop wondering how the showdown between Sherlock and Moriarty was going.

If Sherlock also dies, then the Holmes family will only have him, the eldest son, to continue the family's glory and bloodline. Mycroft has a heavy responsibility, and he must do everything possible to survive. broken.

Of course, he hoped that Sherlock would better not die. His younger brother was a great man who had escaped death many times, and maybe he would be lucky to escape this time as well.

Lestrade couldn't help shaking in his arms, all because his wound was experiencing pain, and his neck was almost broken.

"Are you okay, Greg?" Mycroft's voice became hoarse. He put his hand on his forehead lightly and said, "I'm sorry, Greg, it's not that I didn't try hard."

"Okay, I understand." Lestrade didn't complain, he just cursed pretending to be angry, "That long sword hurts me so much! I feel like I'm dying right now."

Mycroft smiled softly and whispered, "Yes, I know. Like a cut on me."

"Don't talk about that." Lestrade replied gruffly. The concern that Mycroft had never shown in front of outsiders made him uncomfortable. In front of Drade, he was so gentle and tactful.

Mycroft said again, "Sherlock told me the secret of the underground city. If what he said is true, then maybe we can meet. I promised you that I will take you there to avoid this trouble." world."

Mycroft's eyes looked around in the darkness. In the grotto, birds had built their nests on a stalactite, and the small chirping echoed.

The two of them waited here quietly, looking forward to it. Mycroft was very worried that his dream would come to nothing. He was already tired of the outside world, and Lestrade was even more so. He betrayed him back then. The hunter, turning to Mycroft and Sherlock, one is for immortality, and the other is that he is seduced by the charm of Holmes, no one can resist the two brothers, no one.

When Mycroft agreed to him and was willing to tame him into a servant, Lestrade accepted him sincerely. He sucked blood by Lestrade's bedside every night. He spent ten years as a servant of this kind. , He got on the train when he was in his 20s, followed him, and since then he can no longer return to the human world.

His life has been closely linked with Mycroft's life, and a servant of the blood clan cannot get rid of his master, unless his master abandons him.Fortunately, after Mycroft tamed Lestrade, he had little thought of taming others, and he became the most indispensable and favored one.

Mycroft could no longer leave him.

I am afraid that this feeling cannot be understood by other blood races. The only one who can understand him is his younger brother. Like him, Sherlock is obsessed with a human being.

It was always dark in the grotto, they waited from noon to the afternoon, Lestrade slept soundly in his arms, the sound of dripping water echoed around, Mycroft looked depressed and disappointed, maybe just like what Sherlock said, he was not Meet the near-death conditions, so you can't meet the mysterious entrance.

But he still sticks here, he doesn't want to go.

He stayed in the cave until dark, and was getting tired of seeing the darkness.

Lestrade awoke and said, "Let us go, Mycroft, we must do what we have to do. We will go back to your brother."

Mycroft nodded helplessly, "Yes, I want to go back and see him too."

He picked up Lestrade again, turned around, and took two steps outside, when a crack burst out on the ground.

A black hole appeared.

The entrance of the cave was spinning rapidly. Both Mycroft and Lestrade had good night vision. They could clearly see the scene of the black hole eating away at the rock. The huge center was sunken, as if calling them to enter.

Mycroft was instantly overjoyed.

Lestrade said reproachfully, "Are you going to leave your brother alone?"

"He has John Watson, doesn't he? He has no regrets. As for me, I also want to make my dream come true once." Mycroft stared at the vortex fanatically as if he had changed into a different person.

Lestrade didn't refute anything anymore. After a long silence, the figures of the two of them completely disappeared from the land.

The author has something to say:

The ending that Xiaohua is about to face is coming, it seems that he has no choice

I really don't intend to let Mo Niang hang up like this