John wiped away the small dribble of blood which was slowly descending from the corner of his mouth. He looked at the blood he had just wiped off ,smudged across his fingers, before slowly licking the blood off the digits. His tongue stroked over the space where the blood had previously been. He sighed, feeling the tension leave his coiled muscles. A small smile ghosted across his thin lips. The doctor rolled his shoulders before turning on his heel and leaving the darkened alley way. He felt a sharp pain as his fangs retracted back into their normal position. The pain was deliciously sweet causing a small shiver to fall down his spine. He walked along the main road for a while before attempting to hail a cab. He finally caught one after being bypassed by many. The blonde would never understand how Sherlock could conjure one up from, seemingly, the middle of nowhere.

"221 Baker Street," John directed the cabbie before licking the area around his lips. He must remove all evidence of his secret. To avoid his sociopath catching on John had to check his list. Sherlock must never find out about the doctor's affliction. He has a list of 4 senses and each has a way for Sherlock to guess his secret.

1) Sight-Remove all traces of blood from around his mouth and anywhere else the blood may have gotten to in the struggle. Make sure that both fangs are completely retracted before entering the flat. If any blood made its way onto his clothes he is to remove them when he gets into the flat and -preferably- burn them.

2)Smell-The sent of blood can linger on a vampires breath for hours after a feed. To avoid Sherlock realising the shorter man's problem John would drink a strong coffee or tea on the way to the flat or immediately on entry.

3) Sound- John would make sure that he didn't walk with his psychosomatic limb. Walking with his limb will tell Sherlock about the struggle that had happened hours previously( not that there was ever much of a struggle. John was a vampire so he was immensely strong and amazingly fast).

4) Touch- Sherlock must never touch John. Not just because of his freezing skin but because John , as well as every other vampire, is extremely sensitive to touch. It was once used as a way of knowing who was around you and if you were in danger but these days John found it more of a hindrance. If he wasn't expecting the contact he would become extremely defensive. His fangs would drop and the short man would automatically fall into a crouch.

John stuck to these four rules religiously. If Sherlock found out he would be disgusted that be had been living with a monster for the last year. He would be sure to send John off to Mycroft to be tested on and destroyed. Mycroft would probably use him as a weapon for the government. John stopped revising his list as the cab jolted to a halt.

"221 Baker Street," the cabbie croaked in his thick south London drawl. John handed over the fair before making his way into Baker Street. His vision was becoming clearer. It often blurred when he hadn't fed in a couple of weeks. He tried to deal with the constant fogged vision, he didn't like Being a monster. The doctor avoided feeding off humans but after a few weeks of nothing but cats and the occasional dog he had no choice. His vision would become unbearably fuzzy and frequent waves of nausea tormented him. He sighed satisfied as he felt the warm blood dance in his dead veins. John pushed the door open and bounced up the seventeen stairs to 221b. The sudden blood boost had given the blonde man a surge of energy leaving the blurring, nausea and dizziness in the past. John bursts into the flat practically buzzing and leaped over to the kitchen cabinets where they kept the tea. The man grabbed the kettle and dashed over to the sink to fill it up. John placed the kettle on the stove and returned to the box of tea bags John had pulled out just before. He turned the box upside down expecting at least one tea bag to fall out. None did.

"Sherlock!" John shouted, frustrated. He lent back to lean on the table, straining to hear whether his flat mate would bother to answer. The silence was the only answer. He jumped on the spot to stop himself bursting with energy and rolled his eyes. He could feel each and every atom in his body buzzing and shaking inside him sparking against each other. The doctor's post-feed hype has always been bad but this one had just reached the number one spot. He could feel each cell inside of his body dancing,singing and being created over and over again. Maybe he shouldn't leave feeding such long periods a part next time. He tries to not prey on people but they are so weak and powerless and warm with thick delicious blood that leaves John's mouth watering. The blonde man shook his head violently, he must not go down that road. Not here in the flat. With Sherlock probably only meters away .

John had been leaving too much time between his feeds when he left the flat a few hours earlier he nearly fell down the stairs as his legs turned to jelly and his vision was so blurry it was nearly impossible to see. He had to catch himself on the wall to stop himself ending up as a pile on the floor. Mrs Hudson would have then panicked and called an ambulance. A trip to the hospital was something he was very keen to avoid. His low or practically non-exsistant blood pressure especially between feeds had made many paramedics and nurses raise their eyebrows in disapproval and disbelief. He should be dead according to all their medical training but he was technically dead already so what is a small thing like blood pressure going to do? He knew that if he couldn't avoid the trip to the hospital then he would have to feed a matter of hours before to make him look like he has a kind of normal blood pressure. He hated trips to the hospital. It causes so much trouble.

When Sherlock asked him why he still worked in the hospital he had to lie and tell him it was because they needed rent money. Really he found the blood supply useful but recently they haven't needed him for any shifts for the last few weeks so he had to resort to using humans as providers.

"Sherlock!" John shouted louder before he bounded into the living room. Sherlock was laying on the couch in his pyjamas and favourite dressing gown with his hands in a prayer position under his chin. John started marching on the spot trying to burn away the excess energy. He threw the red tea bag box onto Sherlock's chest.

"Ow!" Sherlock moaned having just been pulled from his mind palace. He looked down offensively at the red box before looking up at John and raising an eyebrow.
"What?" He demanded.

"What did I tell you about tea bags?" John asked. You could hear the frustration like a stone in his normally happy tone.

"Not to use them in experiments?" Sherlock guessed. A look of confusion fell over his face.

"Yes,Sherlock but what else? Something about using them all and leaving the box maybe?"

"Does it really matter,John? If I deleted it then it couldn't have been important," Sherlock muttered.

"Matter? Doesn't matter?" The military man fumed.

"Yes,John. How can it matter?"Sherlock said while rising to his feet. "If I don't think it is important than it can't be."

John just stared slack jawed at his flat mate. How could a genius be so stupid and lack in such basic manners and social obligations. John couldn't help himself. The smug idiot deserved it. He punched Sherlock square in the face. He tried to rein in some of his supernatural strength and he thought he was successful until a loud moan resounded from the floor. The doctor looked down in surprise. Sherlock Holmes,the great, was lying on the floor hand cradling his nose and bleeding mouth.

"I'm going to go and buy more tea bags. When I come back I will take a look at your nose and mouth." John told Sherlock and with that he turned bounded over to his coat wiggled it on before grabbing his wallet and leaving the apartment.

Constructive criticism is welcomed along with any comments. Tell me what you liked or didn't.
;) Always keen to improve.