Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/3657714.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Sherlock_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Jim_Moriarty/John_Watson
  Character:
      John_Watson, Jim_Moriarty
  Additional Tags:
      Shota, Shota!Jim, Vampire_AU
  Stats:
      Published: 2015-04-01 Words: 2291
****** Little Monsters ******
by ChloeWinchester
Summary
     Attending a masquerade while Sherlock hunts a killer within the party
     John meets a surprising little boy named Jim, who is certainly more
     than he seems.
Outside in the freezing night, John felt ridiculous. Sherlock had convinced him
to wear this masked ensemble as part of whatever game this was. A costume party
for Halloween, Jack-o-lanterns gleamed from every elegant bannister, vats of
apples adorned a corner or two, tall candelabras lined with black ribbon that
matched the chandeliers hung in the vast ballroom. The lights were dimmer than
they would usually be, the moon full and basking through the French doors that
led to the terrace and the tall windows around the room.
Sherlock had mingled into the crowd in search of the killer in a nasty string
of murders. All the victims drained of blood, all patrons of brothels or owners
of them. None of them were particularly missed but Sherlock had been called
regardless.
The attendees of this party were important enough to attract the attention of
not only Detective Inspector Lestrade, but Mycroft Holmes as well. John
wondered, standing in the doorway of the terrace, if the elder Holmes had
something to do with these deaths himself. He wouldn’t put it past the
government to do something like that, but it wasn’t his place to ask questions.
He peeked at his phone to check the time. Cor, it’d only been half an hour and
he was already bored. Sure dancing with that blonde woman had been fun for a
moment, and the few other girls he’d spoken to in soft little breaths in their
ears had been amusing, but his heart wasn’t in it. Perhaps Sherlock’s
sensitivity to things being dull was rubbing off on him.
He sighed and stepped out fully onto the terrace, away from the heavy air
filled with cigar smoke, heat and the musk of liquor. Approaching the steps to
the garden, he discovered he wasn’t alone.
A slender, pale boy was leaning against the rail in elaborate clothes. Late
nineteenth century, it appeared to him, from the spiderweb embroidered
stockings to the coat cinched tight around his form. Looking closer, John
realized it was a corset. Black lace over a deep red  that fit him so
elegantly. If this had been any other setting he would look out of place but
not now. Now the red Colombina mask around his eyes trimmed with that same
black lace and the little devil horns in his raven hair was…well it
was…something John didn’t want to admit.
And this was before he saw the child’s entire face. Hearing John approach the
child turned, casting brandy colored eyes onto John’s form, and suddenly John
felt underdressed and out of place. His own silver and blue mask made his eyes
pop and his hair glow, which is what caught the boy’s attention most.
John was close enough now that a blush was as noticeable as the spiders
shadowed in the lace of the child’s costume, a tiny silver pitchfork in the red
broach keeping the black scarf on his throat in place. The child was elegant,
captivating.
The boy gave the softest of smirks and gave a little bow of his head before
looking out at the garden again.
Jesus, he can’t be more than ten and he’s looking at me like that…
He reckoned there was a certain place in Hell for thoughts like that.
“Bored with all that, then?” He asked in an adult, paternal sort of way. The
boy sighed and nodded. “Yeah, adults will do that. Be boring. Suppose there’s
no one here your age, either.”
The boy shook his head and looked at John again, the moonlight only doing his
skin favors. John felt nervous again for reasons he wasn’t sure of. It was
unease, yes, but why? It bordered on fear, but there was nothing frightening
about this child. Was there?
“What’s your name?” The boy asked, his voice soft, lilting with dulcet Irish
tones and John had goosebumps.
“John,” he said, perfectly alright outwardly. “Dr. John Watson. And you are?”
“James Moriarty,” he said with another little bow that John felt obligated to
return. “I am bored,” he sighed. “All of the people I’ve danced with are
boring. Amateurs and babbling imbeciles. Such rotten things too. You can almost
smell their insides.” He broke into giggles and John smiled.
“I think you’d get along with my colleague. I’m sure he thinks much of the same
thing,” he chuckled. James cocked his head.
“Colleague? Oh that man you came in with.” John nodded. “I thought, perhaps he
was…”
“No, no. Despite everyone thinking the opposite we’re not-” He didn’t finish
the sentence, pursing his lips and shaking his head. James made it hard to
concentrate, particularly when he was trying to pay attention to how his
eyelashes brushed the mask when he blinked.
“Hm.” Was all the boy said, putting a hand on John’s arm. John cleared his
throat.
“Where’s your mum?” He asked, looking around as if he’d find her.
“Gone,” he explained. “I’m here alone.” John frowned.
“She just left you here?”
“I don’t live far,” James explained. “I thought I would stay awhile. See if
there was anyone here worth speaking to.” He smiled at John. “Looks like it
paid off.”
John laughed a little, very aware of the weight of James’ hand.
A new song began inside and James looked toward the ballroom. “Would you dance
with me, Dr. Watson?” He asked, offering his own arm.
John smiled another warm, adult like smile. “Of course.”
Dancing with the boy was sweet, particularly when there were no women free and
no girls this boy’s age he could occupy himself with. What harm could it do?
Oh how graceful the child was. In the glow of the mock-candles of the
chandelier above their heads Jim’s eyes burned so much they nearly matched his
costume. John danced with him, one hand on his corseted waist he forced to keep
still.
Around and around the floor they went with such ease, their eyes locked and
though the room was crowded and loud he heard every word the child spoke clear
as day.
“What brings you here, Dr. Watson?” He asked. John chuckled.
“My colleague’s brother got us in,” he explained.
“Interesting, but why are you here?” He repeated.
“I…I’m not sure what you mean?” John frowned. James gave another bubbly laugh,
grinning at him.
“You just don’t seem like the party type, is all, Dr. Watson,” he explained.
John cocked a brow at him.
“Don’t I?” He asked, subconsciously pulling the boy closer to him as they
waltzed around. James continued to look at him expectantly. “Maybe I was
just…waiting to see if I’d meet someone interesting too. Make a friend.”
James cocked his head. “Am I a friend already, Dr. Watson?” He asked in that
quiet, alluring voice of his. John felt as if he were moving in a haze where
nothing existed but him and the boy. It was strange and again he felt that
unease, but he couldn’t bring himself to fight it.
“I suppose you are. I’ve talked to you the longest out of everyone here,
anyway,” he chortled.
“So, I’m special then?” James whispered, a blush in his pale cheeks. John found
it hard to breathe.
“James, I think you already knew that.”
They danced for hours together, the rest of the party ignoring them, including
Sherlock which was no surprise to John. They talked and talked and John was
absolutely enamored with this well read, beautifully spoken, enchanting boy. He
was smitten, even, and Jim -as he asked John to call him- only grew more
friendly as time went on.
He coaxed a few glasses of wine into him and even a whiskey or two, loosening
John’s tongue and his inhibitions. The rest of the party was dwindling on sin
and debauchery anyway, so what did it matter? It was Halloween, where dark
things happened anyway, wasn’t it?
James’ little lithe fingers were toying with the silver buttons on John’s blue
coat, apparently looking at the engraving on them but there was a playful glint
in his eyes. A goading, a dare.
John was ready to take it.
In the heat of the room, seated on a couch with him, Jim had taken the scarf
from his neck and the jacked from his shoulders, leaving them bare with only
the corset wrapping him up. John swallowed, staring at him. Jim plucked a
button open.
“Dr. Watson, it might…be cooler upstairs,” he offered with those large eyes and
innocent voice. “You’re so flushed I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.” His demure
expression was heightened with a bite of his lower lip, lips so pink and ripe
and under this spell of liquor and ecstasy he wasn’t sure if he could resist
picking this fruit.
He let his hand brush against his stocking clad thigh and stood. “I think
you’re right.”
Jim’s eyes glittered.
He led the man upstairs and into a spare bedroom before anyone could possibly
notice, locking it behind him.
John’s brow quirked in question.
“You know why I locked it,” Jim stated. John didn’t argue.
Instead he lifted the child off the floor and into his arms, pressing him
against the door and kissing him. Oh, he was just a child, a baby… But those
looks and how his little voice cooed and whined for more, the way his legs
parted and wrapped around John’s waist there was no mistaking what this boy
wanted.
So lithe, lean and soft. Forgetting about Sherlock, forgetting about the case
and everyone that wasn’t this charming boy who gasped his name so prettily,
John kissed down his throat and over his naked shoulders.
“Do you want me bare for you, Dr. Watson?” James whispered, his eyes
brightening, shining red and this time the light had nothing to do with it.
John nodded, glancing at him only to be drawn in further. “You want to fuck me,
don’t you?” James asked, parting his lips to reveal sharp fangs. His mouth
steadily approached John’s neck. “It’s been so long since anyone’s really
fucked me properly. Do you think you can?”
John let out a growl and turned suddenly, Jim’s fangs just brushing his skin
without being able to sink into flesh. He pressed the boy down against the bed
and started unraveling the corset.
“I think you know I can, James,” he said softly, practiced, deft hands
caressing creamy thighs and leaving the garters in their place. He dropped his
mouth to kiss the newly uncovered skin, corset on the floor.
Jim gave a soft little giggle, arching his body so his trousers could come off,
knickers that matched his stockings on his hips. John groaned and attached his
mouth to the sheer, his own shirt falling with the rest of the unnecessary
garments.
James’ breath hitched, black nails digging into John’s shoulders, his mission
forgotten for the moment.
So attentive, so…rewarding. James moaned without shame, shuddering when John
pulled the knickers aside to lap at his sac and suck on the joint of his groin
and his thigh. He trembled with pleasure, falling into his own haze.
Under James’ influence or not, John never left his. The boy was intoxicating
and he was drunk on him. He never wanted this to stop.
Jim sat up while John diligently suckled and kissed and licked his genitals,
turning his own attention to John’s neck. John’s finger circled his pink little
muscle, blue eyes blown wide behind his mask.
He pulled John’s chin up with two fingers, beckoning him closer and immediately
began to kiss his neck. He sucked at his skin, tweaking and tugging on his
nipples to mask the pain of his bite for just a moment.
The doctor shuddered, his eyes going wide in sudden fear. He could feel his
blood leaving him and going into Jim’s mouth, he could feel the sharpness of
his teeth and the chuckle the boy gave when he broke off gave him chills.
“What…what are you?” He gasped, looking into the eyes of the child whose lips
were painted with his blood. The boy grinned and suddenly rolled them with
inhuman abilities. Naked on top of him he cocked his head, grinning.
His fangs were pink, his mask still in place along with the horns. “What do you
think?” He growled. John’s clothes came apart under the child’s hands with such
ease. Jim giggled happily.
“Look how big your cock is…” He smirked, snaking down far enough to let his
fangs graze his weeping head. “Oh, I’m going to feed on you forever,” he
crooned, biting his hip and taking a deep drink.
John cried out at the burn Jim’s teeth left, but his cock twitched with it. He
panted, torn between his desire for the pale and sure child and his fear of
what would become of him.
James sank teeth into his throat again while guiding John’s cock into him, and
John realized with the first roll of the baby’s hips that he didn’t care.
Jim fucked himself down on John’s cock, flesh made warm with John’s blood. “Oh,
you’re so much different than the others….” He purred. “They were horrible men
who deserved to die. They tasted so terrible.” He cut John’s lip open and
sucked blood from it, listening to the doctor whimper. He grinned. “I’ll keep
you, though.”
He rolled his hips again, throwing his head back. “Oh, I’ll keep you!”
All Sherlock ever found of John was his mask and his tattered clothes.
No one ever figured out who the child that was with him could possibly be.
No one heard the cries of ecstasy and devotion John bestowed on the child.
No one could ever know how much Jim loved his new toy.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!