BBC: Sherlock x Reader

Time and Then some |Part One|

Thank you so much to everyone who gave a great response to my first post in this book, I greatly appreciate It! So much, Thank you all.  I am incredibly proud of this one, and you'll see why :) Happy reading. Stay Sweet <3

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Eternity isn't nice. It's cold and lonely and endless. Unless, you decide to take yourself from this world, which at many a time isn't a bad idea. Eternity is a slow progress of time. Whoever said it would be nice to live forever told a lie, and a great one at that.

Of course, no one wants to die, because they fear what lies beyond death. They fear the thought of what lies at the end of that tunnel; Heaven or Hell. But no one wants to live forever, because to live forever is to be alone. With nothing more to lose, you just live on and watch.

Watch as everything around you ages and dies, and you, on the other hand, remain a fixed point. You watch as humanity destroys itself, watch them become the very disease they feared so much. Their ignorance becomes their down fall.

Humans are petty creatures, they live for themselves, some of them doesn't even know right from wrong, they do what they like, and they keep on living like they've done no wrong. They surrender to drugs and alcohol yet they speak against those who fail to show abstinence. Sometimes, one must become a monster to realize that humanity is gone.

Alone is what I have, alone protects.

That was something Sherlock Holmes once said, and for years it sang in his head like a mantra.

But now, he's not so sure. Alone got boring, and sometimes, he just couldn't stand it. He thought he was slowly slipping away, falling deeper into the deep end of the pool. He never once let it bother him, but now, he's not so sure.

"You should find someone Sherlock,"

"Speak for yourself, Mycroft. I need no one."

There is no one like him, none that he know of anyway. He was, and forever more will be a monster. Sometimes, he wished he'd wake up in his bed, and this would've been nothing more than a horrible dream. That or a sick joke. But no, everyday, he'd go to sleep and wake up in this never ending reality.

When he was human, in the late eighteenth century, he never had a worry. He was a detective, he solved crimes, made a name for himself. He had a life. One that he was living perfectly fine, until he bumped into a strange case. People were turning up dead all over London, with strange puncture wounds in their necks, drained of their blood.

At first, Sherlock thought it was silly, because his brain could only think of rational explanations for these deaths, and for that one moment, he thought irrationally.

Vampires.

Quite silly, isn't it? Well, Sherlock thought it was. And even now, Sherlock wished he never tried to solve that case. Because his irrational thought was right. Vampires were truly the cause. He had never thought it possible, for things like this emerge from fairy tails and urban legends.

Things parents use to scare their children.

But it was far more than that, and very much real. And Sherlock was so close to solving the case, until he was going home, unaccompanied one November night. He was startled, when the man came out of nowhere, he had expected him to shoot him, anything but tackle him and bleed into his mouth.

He could vaguely remember what happened afterwards. Everything was too loud and too bright, and not to mention the blood lust he felt. His brother, Mycroft had found him then, and when Sherlock did wake up, he attacked him. So in truth, he isn't really alone, he just loves to pretend his brother isn't there.