[Even if Dracula couldn't ultimately take England like he had planned - he had made startling large claims in Europe, aided by the politics of the post-war era, and more so he managed to keep it, many elder vampires suddenly disappearing, and despite the man's legendary disdain for humans, he made deals with the various smuggling rings and black marketeers in his territory, and this one seems to different.

However Sherlock did not expect to see the man before him, blue-eyes (but his face had changed, his voice, his eyes stayed the same) staring at him with almost equal shock. However muted he tried to be, his eyes fluttered open, almost like a doll at the sight of Moriarty, his own eyes once the soft gray of rain clouds was now the color of dark blood.

He said nothing, and was still as an alabaster figure, only his hands moved to record the meeting, like a meek little secretary. There was a brief motion - a micro-expression of - shame? grief? - when Dracula referred to him as tamed, before the elder vampire vanished.

For a long time, he held still, his eyes closing before he felt the sensation of someone reaching to him, then the whisper, his eyes opening more naturally, stiffness in his shoulders disappearing]

So... you are real.

[Then his lips pursed, realizing those little words revealed too much, then his next words came, a thousand little questions begging to come out but the uncharacteristic skittishness held it back]

All this time... you lived.