The man’s hands were drawn together, the tips of his fingers pressed against his lips, still lost within his damnable mind palace. The sleeves of his purple dress shirt were drawn up on his forearms, their length peppered with three—no, four—nicotine patches! His flat mate was a mad man in the constant pursuit of knowledge and he was bloody well going to kill himself trying.
Seeing the detective had not stirred at the sound of his shout the doctor stalked the rest of the way over to the couch, grabbed a corner of a patch, and ripped. The calm face, reposed as if in death the man’s skin was so pale, suddenly changed, coming to life.
A fanfiction cross over a Sherlock Holmes and the vampire chronicles.
This story is published in episodes with more to come, so is incomplete. It centres more around the vampires than Holmes and Watson. As fan fiction goes it is of average quality, good premise, poor execution. Not sure about the legality of charging for such work.