Just to be clear, the Vamp mythosis I'm using is closer to- dare I say it- Twilight than Supernatural or like Buffy the Vampire Slayer. BUT HOLD IN YOUR CRINGING HORSES- nobody sparkles, okay? I promise. Anyways, enjoy guys! I've been totally slacking this summer because of moving but now that school has started I should be able to get back into a nice healthy pattern of lots of writing. And unhealthy amounts of little to no sleep.

NO REGRETS- until I have a mental breakdown but no time to dwell on that

John felt the ebbing flow of consciousness long before he elected to let it take him into the realm of waking life. Lying there was too pleasant, too intoxicating, too wonderful to even think of ending the blessed time he was able to spend in his vampire's arms.

But slowly and surely, like the rolling waves of the tide, John found himself blinking away the haze of sleep.

John nuzzled his face further into Sherlock, tucking his nose into the chilly pale column of his neck. Sherlock hummed quietly, the noise vibrating and slipping out of his chest like the rumble of a lion. The noise made John's heart beat faster.

"John?" Sherlock murmured. His voice was rich and low but barely heard over the comfortable silence that captured the room.

"I'm up," John groaned, sighing heavily as he sat up to stretch and rub at his eyes. Sherlock, reluctant to relinquish his grip around the human, looked up at John as he sleepily patted down his hair. Sherlock hummed again in response, watching John with those intent eyes- the eyes that saw straight to the heart of everything.

"How did you sleep?" Sherlock asked, breaking the cozy silence after a moment of just basking in one another's company.

"Good, I think." John cleared his throat, which felt slightly grungy after his nap. He laid back down, resting against Sherlock's side. He fit comfortably there, their bodies seeming to snap together like puzzle pieces.

"I can't remember what sleep is like..." Sherlock whispered, his arm wrapping around John's shoulders and back. "Is it as peaceful as it seems?"

John blinked. He had forgotten about that- Sherlock couldn't sleep. He just hadn't dwelt on the thought when he had initially learned of it, it was too mind boggling at the time. He pondered the question. "It's either as easy as breathing or too hard. It's simple images or terrifying nightmares... But I can't imagine life without sleeping every night." He looked at Sherlock from the corner of his wide eyes, tilting his head to see him better.

"It's like a never ending twilight," Sherlock leaned his head back, looking at the ceiling. "It's as if the sun doesn't really set, like time is meaningless. I often wonder if I sat and watched dust collect, would the specs begin to blur and lose meaning? Would I forget my original goal? Would the dust just become a stream of data that was undecipherable?" He sighed. "Days, even weeks used to go by in which I would forget night from day and minutes from hours."

"Why don't you forget anymore?" John asked, wondering at the idea that one could completely lose track of time like that. He looked up to the ceiling, examining the texture with a portion of his mind.

"You. I now have a reason to be aware of time because every finite second I have with you is precious and I cannot waste a single moment of it." As fast as John had looked away, he now gazed on Sherlock again.

John was awestruck. He had had no idea just how much he meant to Sherlock. The thought that John had had deeper feelings than the detective was suddenly so absurd even though he had been convinced of the fact just moments ago.

"I understand if you do not feel the same, John, I-"

John shook his head vigorously. "I thought I loved you more than you would ever care for me. I didn't know that-" He froze as he realized that he had been a little more honest with his words than he intended.

Sherlock froze too before blinking. "You... Love me?" If Sherlock had a beating heart it would have been pounding. Yet he felt his heart starting to really hope for the first time in a long, long while. It was too good to be true, it must've been a slip of the tongue, an error, it was impossible. No one could love a monster. But still, he asked. He couldn't help it. He was still too human to resist hoping.

John took a deep steadying breath and sat up. He turned to face Sherlock who was still laying, who looked up at him. John leaned a bit closer and took one of Sherlock's pale hands.

"I've loved you for a long time, Sherlock. Far longer than you, though, I'm sure."

Sherlock laughed bitterly. "I've been waiting for you for centuries and I knew it had to be you the moment I saw you. What I am-" he closed his eyes for a moment as he struggled with self loathing. "You're my... For lack of a better word, mate, John Watson. Everything in me is meant to be one half of a whole, no matter how archaic it sounds. You are my other half- a bond that neither of us could have controlled. But I am glad it is you. Even if loving you weren't a part of my nature, I would do it anyways."

"I... John, I love you more than words could even express."

He hesitated, his eyes looking deep into John's. "There's something I must confess, John."

John's brow furrowed but he waited. Sherlock sighed and sat up, leaning forward and resting a tentative finger against the scar on his neck. It was like electricity ran down his spine, John couldn't help but lean into the touch. It felt... Right for Sherlock's hand to rest against the mark, it felt right to be sitting here with him.

"I put that there," Sherlock murmured, sounding like he couldn't believe his own words. John looked at him with wide eyes. He almost asked why, but, did it really matter? He trusted Sherlock, he knew that there must be a reason behind it.

"It was selfish... Its true that I can track you easier and it is in my very nature to take care of you. I rationalized marking you. I made the excuse that it would help me protect you, but really I just wanted so badly to pretend that you were mine. I knew it wouldn't affect you, because you don't have the same instincts as I, but to me and other such beings... It mattered. It was wrong without your permission and I hope you can forgive me, John. But my point is, dearest Watson, I truly do love you, beyond what any mortal could ever understand. I'll never be able to describe how tied I am to you. But you must know that your feelings are not unrequited in the slightest."

John felt something in his heart warm. Sherlock cared enough to do something like that? John reached to put his fingers over Sherlock's, stopping him from letting his hand slip away.

"I am yours." he said softly yet firmly. He decided that even if it was perhaps something that could've potentially caused issues, he would unconditionally forgive Sherlock. He cared, that was what was important. They had been through so much, it would be silly to let anything come between them now.

Sherlock'd head snapped up to look at him with wide eyes. "J-"

"Your's." He promised, pressing that ice cold hand to his skin. He leaned forward and kissed Sherlock gently. Their lips melded together and  Sherlock pushed John back to lean on his elbows. Sherlock leaned forward on his forearms between John's body and arms. The kiss grew more intense as Sherlock softly traced his tongue along John's bottom lip in a searing line.

He stopped, however, and pulled back to study John's eyes. "Vampires and other supernatural creatures can have mates that aren't their naturals, but the bond isn't as strong. Naturals can only come from the same root species... And you are mine.

"But the way to seal two mates is by marking. I... I didn't fully mark you because I didn't have your permission."

"It's alright, Sherlock. It's okay, I don't mind, really."

"But-"

"If you keep talking, I'll whack you upside the head."

Sherlock chuckled softly, but he stayed quiet. The stern look in John's eyes silenced his fretting and he couldn't help but love the man beneath him.

John felt Sherlock move his head to his chest and his fingers softly trail down to his sides. After a moment John realized that the vampire was listening to his heartbeat. He hoped that he couldn't hear it pounding. He stayed propped up on his elbows for a time until he laid down and Sherlock shifted closer into his arms. No words were spoken, only one heartbeat and two twin sets of breathing could be heard.

*WSSH*

Life returned to normal. John wasn't surprised by how easily affection melded into their lives. Nothing changed around their friends, the few who knew he was alive anyways, and Sherlock went on as a detective, and John went on as his blogger. None of his stories went on the actual blog anymore, people weren't really supposed to know he was alive. Now he wrote in a journal, planning to give the completed book to Sherlock someday.

But when Sherlock was sitting at a table for hours doing an experiment, John was softly running his fingers through those ebony curls. When John made his coffee Sherlock took the opportunity to wait by his side, sneaking a morning kiss or two while he did. When John typed up a story on his laptop, Sherlock sat at his feet and went into his mind palace.

And when Sherlock was angry about some pieces of the mystery not fitting together, John was there to soothe and calm him. He was also the one to go out in public and actually get the case files from Lestrade, unless the man brought them straight to 221B.

2 weeks after their feelings were confessed, John was writing when a thought occurred to him.

"Sherlock?"

"John?"

"When did you become a vampire?"

It took a moment for Sherlock to respond. When he did, he moved from the ground to looking out their window at the streets of London. The windows were tinted now, so that no one could see inside, but the view was still pleasant. The position change happened in the blink of an eye, but John was getting more and more used to Sherlock's speed. He was glad that Sherlock let his guard down around him.

"A few years centuries ago," he said quietly. John could barely hear him. "Long before I met you."

John hesitated. Would it be too private, too painful for Sherlock to tell him what had happened?

"You can ask me anything, John. My story belongs to you as much as it does to me."

John thought on that. He decided that, maybe... maybe he should let Sherlock tell him in his own time. He set his laptop down and walked to Sherlock's side. He knew that the vampire could hear him drawing closer. He opened his mouth to ask, he so badly wanted to know, but Sherlock's stiff posture made his curiosity falter. Instead of speaking, he wrapped his arms around the detective's thin frame.

The vampire was stiff until a moment had passed and he relaxed. He twisted in John's arms until he could envelop the man in his long limbs. The blogger just buried his head in Sherlock's chest and sucked in a deep breath, his senses filling with the indescribable scent of that cold skin.

"How long has it been since you hunted?" John asked.

"Too long, perhaps. I believe it would be wise for me to go soon."

"Where do you go?" John was genuinely curious. Sherlock had already explained that he lived on a diet of animal blood and some from blood bank storages. But where exactly he went to was a mystery to John. He leaned back to look up into Sherlock's eyes. They looked almost purple, like the red of his hunger was bleeding through his blue irises. It made him look even more ethereal than normal.

"Into the countryside, but it's a short trip when you run as fast as I do."

"Take me with you-"

"John-"

"I haven't been to the countryside in a while, not since we went to Baskerville."

"I wouldn't really want a repeat of that catastrophe, John. Would you?"

"Besides," John said, ignoring Sherlock. "I think it would be nice to spend time together outside of the flat?"

Sherlock sighed, looking down at his blogger with a disapprovingly raised eyebrow.

"You have to promise to follow my instructions if we run into danger."

"When has danger ever stopped us?"

"I mean supernatural danger, John. There has been troubling activity nearby and I don't want to take you out into-"

"It'll be fine, Sherlock. I'm not going to let some vague, uncertain threat loom over our heads and keep us from living a little bit."

"You forget that I am undead, John."

John just glared at Sherlock disapprovingly. The vampire sighed in acquiesce.

"To grandmother's house we go." Sherlock muttered, lower than John's human ears could hear.