Broken

[Sherlock: "Matthew..."]

What could've possibly caused him to do this? To give up on his dream? The sight of my brother, defeated and clenching his fists even as he stood atop the thugs he had captured, seemed so surreal.

The way he said that he needed my help, it felt so deprived of happiness. It wasn't the same Matthew I knew, it really wasn't.

[Sherlock: "What happened?"]

[Matthew: "You...I—no, it's nothing."]

[Sherlock: "You sure?"]

[Matthew: "Yeah, I was just shaken up a little."]

[Sherlock: "This can't be all you came over to tell me, I know you're hiding something."]

[Matthew: "I may have a clue on the currently unsolved murders."]

[Sherlock: "I'll toss these guys into prison, meet me at my office in a bit."]

[Matthew: "Right..."]

Where in the world would he have gotten a clue on that? I searched the whole area with nothing to find, this brother of mine wouldn't be able to solve this caliber of crime. But...the way he looked earlier...maybe he wasn't lying.

[—]

Wait in Sherlock's office...waste precious hours waiting for him, and making no deductions of my own. How pathetic am I? I don't even know where to start now, I have no information, and I have to rely on Sherlock. At least I tried to stop it.

[Sherlock: "Sorry for the wait, tell me what information you have."]

[Matthew: "It's about the Murder off West End."]

[Sherlock: "The one from three months ago?"]

[Matthew: "I'm no quite sure, but near that area, there was some blood near the path to the post office, it was one block from the post office, it looks like the victim was dragged into an alleyway, but there are no other signs of blood."]

I'm talking...about myself. That's the only place where I was, and where I woke up, but it wasn't from a bar fight, it was most likely from one of the vampires, though I don't know even they could make such a large wound.

[Sherlock: "Really? Anything else?"]

[Matthew: "Would you mind telling me the details of this case?"]

[Sherlock: "As long it isn't leaked, I trust you, brother."]

[Matthew: "Alright."]

[Sherlock: "The victim's body was deprived of blood, a sadist was most likely the perpetrator, draining his blood by letting, victim was also tied upside down with multiple deep wounds, the one that killed him was when his guts were pulled out."]

[Matthew: "Where was the blood that was let?"]

[Sherlock: "That's the problem, we found too little of the blood to go on, the only part that was found was the area where the guts were pulled, there a puddle, but other than that, we couldn't find the rest of the blood. They might've taken it with them in a bucket."]

The vampires are harvesting blood? What for? It'll dry up soon enough.

[Matthew: "Are there any similar cases?"]

[Sherlock: "Yes, seven throughout the course of just this year, how did you know?"]

Seven...cases, seven blood red gemstones. This has something to do with that ritual.

[Matthew: "I was just wondering, if the killer is sadistic that must mean they have an urge for it."]

[Sherlock: "An urge?"]

[Matthew: "Yes, I read a book on it...Sherlock, what were similar features the victims had?"]

[Sherlock: "They were all male, bald, and in relatively good shape."]

[Matthew: "Show me pictures of the victims."]

[Sherlock: "here."]

Sherlock opened house desk drawer, and pulled out pictures of all seven victims when they were alive. Through the photos I found that they all had a scar and had two different eye colors.

[Matthew: "Sherlock, where did these crimes take place? And what time, and date?"]

[Sherlock: "two on Southwark, two on Islington, two on East End, and one on West End. From the dates here, it's about once every two months."]

[Matthew: "It's two on each except West End. Sherlock the victims all have differently colored eyes and scars across their face along with baldness, and being in good shape."]

[Sherlock: "That means...we can deduct which person has those features in West End, every single area has been sullied twice, all expect for West End!"]

[Matthew: "We can catch the killer!"]

[Sherlock: "You—you did it!"]

[Matthew: "It was all thanks to your evidence."]

[Sherlock: "we've got to find the man first, and we've got a month to do so."]

[—]

|One month later.|

We waited atop the building, where the murder seems to use as an entrance point, we've also stationed officers around the perimeter, but if it's really a vampire, then it's going to be useless. It was easy to find out where he lived due to the specific and unusual features of his, it was a man named Dean.

[Sherlock: "Get ready."]

[Matthew: "I am."]

I took out a colt revolver, loaded it, and waited. We hid behind a chimney, waiting for the sound of glass breaking.

[Sherlock: "Did he use a different vantage point?"]

[Matthew: "I'll go check."]

I slowly made my way to the other vantage point, the front of the house, to see if anything had moved.

[Matthew: "No, I don't see any—"]

The sound of shards of glass crashing to ground made my adrenaline pulsate, I ran over to Sherlock, who had already started to enter through the window, and followed after him, the murderer was fast, as if he knew every inch of the house by heart.

[Matthew: "Shit! Sherlock! He's been using the two months in between to plan his crimes!"]

[Sherlock: "Don't let him get away! I'll cut him off!"]

I continued to chase after the murderer, while Sherlock went to signal the other officers to block the other possible escape routes, but, it'll most likely be useless.

I picked up a vase from one of the many in the hall and chucked it as far as I could, destroying it in the process, but surely would slow the murderer down, so I can take my shot. It jumped for the first time since we were chasing it, and I got a good look at the murderer, a girl, purple hair, and round eyes. I fired my revolver, filled to the brim with silver bullets that took a small fortune to buy.

As the bullet was fired, the murderer started to twist and turned into a bat, but the bullet penetrated through the right wing, and it fell down. I raised my revolver, ever so carefully, and slowly approached without uttering a word.

[Sherlock: "You're under arrest!"]

Sherlock has come halfway up the stairs, and landed in the jaws of the vampire.

[Matthew: "Sherlock, no!"]

The bat once again turned, I shot three more bullets into her back, but she had already begun feeding on Sherlock. Sherlock's hands went limp, unable to fire a shot from his revolver, and dropped to the floor, the wounds from the silver bullets had healed near instantly, and I only had two bullets remaining in my chamber. I would have to aim for the two most vital areas, the heart, and the neck.

The woman licked her lips, taking in the last of the blood she took from Sherlock, and snapped her fingers, the world once again turned to shadow, but it was already nighttime, it might enhance her abilities further, but in the stopped momentum of time, she couldn't do any real harm to me.

I aimed my revolver, ready to shoot, when she suddenly disappeared, I couldn't see her at all, she merely cut small wounds into my flesh, not at all entertaining the idea of killing me, mocking me.

I backed myself into the corner of the room, between the stairs and the two halls, she came at me in a straight line from the hall, all three of her vital points aligned, running with her back arced. I fired the first silver bullet, but it healed instantly, she clawed up a large wound to my cheek, the blood spilling into the revolver, dampening the gunpowder. I nearly let go of the revolver, loosening my grip, I aim it once again at the hall to the right, where she ran at me again.

I was going to die, but I fired the last bullet anyway, perhaps as a way to say the words I couldn't. The bullet ran straight into her forehead, then she tumbled.

[Matthew: "What...?"]

I saw a hole in the back of her neck, for some reason, that bullet had an effect. Seeing the velvety substance, I instinctively remember the reason for everything.

[Matthew: "It's my blood, the blood and the bullet combined."]

I picked up the bullet from across the hall while the vampire was incapacitated, but it had melted slightly, combined with the heat of my blood and the bullet chamber at the same time, it had somehow reached a melting point.

Quicksilver blood bullets.

I took a bullet that was still buried in her back, took blood from the cuts on my body, and placed it upon the last place needed to kill a vampire, the heart.

I looked at her face for some kind of emotion to be seen, but the damage to her brain hadn't been healed yet, so I couldn't even see her suffer in pain, or beg me in fear.

Even so, I felt the leather from the gloves I wore, comfortably nestled, and I squeezed the trigger.

There was no satisfaction, there was only horrible sound of the bullet entering her chest and crushing whatever remained of her heart, ending a life.

It was so sad, and lonely.