[He wasn't lying about owing thanks! But the smell of an open vein hits Sherlock with all of the potency of a glass of wine. He grimaces a moment, overcome, turning his face away -- and, beneath the curled lips, his fangs have grown longer, sharper.]
I know what you're doing, [he says tightly, using as little breath as possible. He had done it himself, to tide over Childermass. Would it work for him, too? It smells like it will, but the old blood had, too...]
no subject
[He wasn't lying about owing thanks! But the smell of an open vein hits Sherlock with all of the potency of a glass of wine. He grimaces a moment, overcome, turning his face away -- and, beneath the curled lips, his fangs have grown longer, sharper.]
I know what you're doing, [he says tightly, using as little breath as possible. He had done it himself, to tide over Childermass. Would it work for him, too? It smells like it will, but the old blood had, too...]