Surprise, surprise! I actually managed to get a Halloween story done in time for the holiday this year! I've always wanted to do one, but could never get it to work right. This year, thanks to one of those lovely headcanons floating around Pinterest, I was able to get this done back in July! I couldn't be happier.
The headcanon:
Sherlock likes to pretend not to see himself in mirrors, be averse to garlic and crosses etc., just to freak Anderson out. John caught on and started reminding Sherlock to stay out of direct sunlight when Anderson's around. They have a bet on when Anderson will break and start carrying around a wooden stake at work.
It's a bit rough, but it's not horrid. Makes me giggle anyway. I hope you enjoy it!
A Vampire for Halloween -- an original work by Julie Lynn Thorpe (C) 2016
“What’s that look for?”
Sherlock blinked and turned to John. “What look?”
“You know the look.” John sighed as Sherlock raised a brow. “The ‘I have something devious planned’ look. You were wearing it not a minute ago.”
“Halloween, John.”
“Is next month. What about it?” John frowned and folded his paper, setting it aside for later. Sherlock was wearing that look again. It worried him a bit. “Murders will go up. Is that what’s got you all excited?”
The tall detective groaned and stood, pacing in the living room. “Obvious, John, but something far more entertaining. You’d enjoy it too, I suppose. It does target Anderson.”
“Anderson? What’s gotten into you?”
“Halloween!”
Sherlock stood on the coffee table and grinned widely. It was a bit haunting, that look, but John couldn’t help but smile and shake his head. He waved a hand at his flatmate.
“Out with it, then. What are you up to?”
“Something devious, John, something wonderfully fun!”
-
October first came and John should have been prepared for Sherlock’s game. He’d started bits of it at Baker Street, but John had been on the lookout for cases deemed interesting enough for the great Sherlock Holmes. So when they pulled up at the crime scene and Lestrade looked amused, it caught him a bit by surprise.
“Careful, Sherlock,” Lestrade called out. “Heard this one loved her crosses.”
Anderson’s head popped up, eyes narrowed as he watched the tall man stride into the room, close enough to the victim, but well away from the kitschy collection of bedazzled crosses. He muttered darkly as he paused at the jewelry around the woman’s neck.
“John!” Sherlock straightened, turning to look at the doctor. “Kindly remove her jewelry and give it Lestrade. Can’t touch the bloody corpse like this!”
John looked to Lestrade who nodded, looking a bit put-out, and he sighed. “Really, Sherlock? Do you have to touch her? Can’t you get close enough for a good look and give your deductions that way?”
“You know my methods, John.”
“Of course, you bloody git.” He smirked as he did as he was asked, handing the evidence to another officer who’d stepped up to take it. “There you go, free of any blessed items.”
Sherlock quickly then began his usual manner of determining the death of the woman and who the killer was and where they were hiding. John glanced at Anderson to see the man wearing a confused and concerned scowl. Sergeant Donovan wasn’t sure what to make of it either.
-
“If you’re not going to take the bloody umbrella, then stay out of the light, you bloody idiot.” John snapped, swinging the umbrella he was carrying. He’d never admit he’d brought it both to annoy Sherlock and to watch Anderson panic a bit more. “I can’t patch you up, remember?”
“Don’t be stupid,” Sherlock muttered, frowning at the mirrored glass. “Wouldn’t dream of going into the sunlight; would ruin my complexion. How’s my hair? Do I need a trim? Can’t see a blasted thing in these mirrors.”
“Your hair’s fine,” Lestrade spoke up. “If you’re done here, bugger off, yeah?”
“Can’t see your hair?” Anderson huffed. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Sherlock spun and gave the medical examiner a dark grin. “Oh, I don’t know, Anderson. What do the facts tell you?” He laughed as the man backed up a pace.
“Vampires aren’t real, you know!”
“Oh, have proof of that, do you?”
“Sherlock, come on,” John rolled his eyes. “You may not eat, I sure as hell do! I’m leaving to head to Angelo’s, you coming or not?”
Anderson paled a bit more at John’s comment, though it was unintentional. He swallowed a laugh as he took off down the sidewalk, not waiting for Sherlock to catch up. He was hungry, that much was true, and if Anderson wanted to add that tidbit to his list of ‘facts’ then who was John to stop him?
“Now you’ve done it,” Sherlock chuckled, catching up. He’d pulled his Belstaff around his ears, “hiding” himself from the sun. “Did you really have to bring the umbrella? You know how much I despise Mycroft and his.”
“Oh, it was a bit of fun,” John giggled. “I’ll leave it home next time. And Anderson can think what he wants. I was telling the truth that time. I am hungry and you rarely eat unless I force upon you.”
“Delightful. He’s nervous, going to start carrying a stake at the next crime scene.”
“Nah,” John shook his head. “Not yet. He’s definitely far more scared of you now than before. By Halloween, though, he’ll be carrying one. Sally too?”
“Oh, she’s got Holy Water in her pocket and has started to wear a cross around her neck. Haven’t you been paying attention to how she holds her head up when I get close to insult her?”
“Right. Still having fun, then? Halfway through the month, ought to make sure you’re still not bored.”
Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Hardly dull. Lestrade plays along well, you know. Did you tell him? Why did you tell him?”
“Because one of them should know at least and Greg can help you before you get to the scene, you know, with the crosses, and garlic, and all.” John shrugged. “Plus, he enjoys watching Anderson freak out a bit too.”
“Marvelous.” Sherlock grinned. “Best idea ever.”
-
Three days until Halloween and there it was, on the medical examiner’s waist: a wooden stake. John blinked at it for a moment before realizing that Anderson wasn’t the only who had one. Sally and a few other officers carried various ‘anti-Vampire’ kits on their sides.
“Greg,” John stood next to the DI, his voice low, “How many officers have you told about Sherlock’s little prank?”
“Most of them. Not Donovan or Anderson, since those were his targets, I presume.” Lestrade shrugged. “Some still think he’s not acting, so I let them think what they will. He’ll get bored of it soon, right?”
“Oh, no doubt, Detective Inspector,” Sherlock said, strolling up to them. “But, I do have one final scheme to bother Anderson with, with your permission, of course. And your assistance?”
“Oi, your hearing that good?”
“Nope, read your lips. Bit boring, really.” The taller man shrugged. “Will you help me or no?”
“Of course. What do you have planned?” At Sherlock’s grin, the DI frowned. “Do you know your face does that? Does he know his face does that?”
“Does what?”
“That ‘I have something devious planned’ look? No, he doesn’t. Makes him look a bit mad, though.” John chuckled.
“Which is nothing new, John. Everyone thinks I’m mad.”
“Only a bit,” Lestrade said. “Some of us think you’re only a bit mad. Know you, is all. Your plan?”
“Of course,” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “The plan.”
-
‘The plan’ would have waited until after Halloween night, but as luck would have it, a ‘fresh body’ showed up Halloween night and put it all into motion. Bless Molly and her wonderful ways. After a bit of an argument, Sherlock agreed to wear the vest under his clothing, just as a precaution. John didn’t want a trip to the A&E just because the idiot wasn’t willing to be prepared. They met Lestrade and most of his team outside the scene. Sally stood a bit off from the group, watching Sherlock with narrowed eyes as they wandered into the house. Lestrade grinned at her before the door shut behind them.
“She wonders why you don’t get attacked, either of you since I’m a psychopath.” Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Thinks you’re working for me, under some spell, Lestrade. Should really set that one straight.”
“It’ll sort itself out tonight,” Lestrade waved a hand, dismissing it all. “No crosses and this one was allergic to garlic. Everything else is in place outside, Anderson will be out in a bit. So, what happened?”
Sherlock took in the room and gave his deductions at rapid speed. John rolled his eyes as he steered away from the mirrors. He gave his solution to Lestrade (heart attack, not murder, boring) before stalking his way outside, clearly in a dark mood.
John and Lestrade were close on his heels as the younger Holmes brother threw open the door and practically flew at Anderson. The medical examiner squealed and fumbled for the wooden stake at his side, but it was a bit late for that. Sherlock had his mouth around Anderson’s shoulder, ‘biting’ as hard as he could.
At Lestrade’s shout of “Sherlock!” another officer threw a bucket of faux blood at the detective and medical examiner, causing Anderson to rip himself away from Sherlock. John stepped up, simply to make sure neither man was actually injured (beyond Anderson’s fall – he’d tripped and landed on his backside in his hurry to get away).
“Brilliant!” Sherlock crowed, ignoring the fact he was covered in red corn syrup. “Wonderful! It’s Christmas day! Look at him!”
John and Lestrade shared a look before dissolving into laughter along with nearly the entire squad. Sally had rushed to Anderson’s side only to be brushed off as the medical examiner stood to glare at them.
“What the hell what that about!” He snapped, stalking up to Sherlock. “You trying to kill me or something!”
“Hardly, Anderson,” Sherlock grinned. “Bored, needed entertainment and you were the easiest to fool. Should have suspected Sergeant Donovan as well, but that wasn’t the point, really. Thank you for playing along.”
“Playing along – what do you mean by that?”
“Just that, Anderson,” Lestrade managed over his laughter. “Bloody good trick, it was. Should have seen your face! Squealed like a girl!”
“I do not squeal!” Anderson denied adamantly, stomping his foot, “Besides, I was only trying to protect myself from that bloody Vampire!”
“Oi, you do, mate!” John grinned. “And Sherlock’s no Vampire. He could see himself in those mirrors just fine and none of your stuff would have worked on him.”
“Well, the stake, John, but that hardly matters. Stab anyone with a stake and they’d die. Obvious.” Sherlock said. “Come on, I’d like to get home before this sets in too horribly. Afraid it’ll ruin my Belstaff.”
“Don’t drip on the floor, Mrs. Hudson will kill us,” John looked at his flatmate and sighed. “Oh, we’re going to have to walk. No cabbie will let you in like that.”
“Fair enough, come on then.” Sherlock strode ahead, waving a hand as they left the DI and half the Yard behind them. “Happy Halloween, Lestrade. Do try and have something more interesting next time please!”
“Of course, you git.” Lestrade laughed. “Happy Halloween to you too!”
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