"And I was letting them assume I was Catholic, too," laughs Juliet, "wearing the crucifix outside my shirt and doing that crossing gesture thing - Please tell me that crucifixes are standard Slayer issue and you would've got me one or at least told me to get one if I hadn't already located and started wearing this?"
"Okay, that's good, because if they weren't that would be really dreadfully negligent. Even if Sherlock proves that a vampire can with sufficent effort learn to find crosses not-aversive. They do still burn him and - not bother him, but repel him a little in a way he can ignore, so I take it off when we spar."
"He could've easily killed me but some combination of snarky banter and my clever trick with the crosses made him find me interesting, when we first met," shrugs Juliet. "So yeah. I did spend a while asking him if I'd get a head start if he ever found me boring, but I think he's in for the long haul, now."
"Hey, when we met, I started shooting at him," Juliet says. "He's never actually moved to harm me. Or my dad even though my dad shot him once when Sherlock was saving his life. I think if there's any reason for mistrust at this point some of it would be aimed in my direction."
"Because he acts recognizably like the other Sherlocks," says Juliet, "even though he's a vampire. Sort of like Golden is recognizably like us even though she is a vampire, albeit one that doesn't usually come with a soul renovation. When I hear things about other Sherlocks who aren't vampires, I don't have to take them with a clove of garlic because vampires are usually evil - and then, insofar as my Sherlock is similar to those Sherlocks, I can assume that he will continue to be so."
"I guessed on my first try that this Sherlock was a Sherlock and not a Tony," adds Shell Bell, "even though they look alike apart from their habits and the Sherlock I'm most used to is a girl."
Homework goes on until dusk approaches to the point where it is time for the Bells to depart. On her drive home - even with Shell Bell around, Juliet drives; she doesn't want Charlie or her classmates wondering, and besides, Shell Bell could find a door home at school and want to take it right then - she brainphones Sherlock. [You up?]
[It's not urgent, if you want to go back to sleep. You could put up a busy message - or if you want to be wakeable by brainphone in case of emergency you could just give me a range of hours. But Mr. Giles doesn't know anything useful about edge cases of blood exchange with vampires and I wanted to know how you know - if you know - that "tasting" when I get scratched up sparring is safe.]
[How much is enough? If there's splatter when I'm fighting some random vampire - or you, though you're much harder to hurt and I would try to pull back before gouging you that bad if I got a lucky hit - and I have my mouth open...]
[At this point I'm guessing, but my guesses tend to be reliable. I don't think a few drops will cause you any trouble. And I think you would need to be dead before it became a problem in any case. The ideal condition seems to be completely exsanguinated but otherwise relatively intact. I've never heard of a living, uninjured person being fed vampire blood and turning from it, or for that matter of someone's midnight snack getting their teeth in and waking up three days later. All instances of turning seem to involve someone's deliberate effort, and more blood than you are likely to accidentally ingest. I'd even venture to say that it's not cumulative: if you get a little here and a little there over the course of your Slaying career, and have a heart attack when you're ninety, you won't end up a wrinkled little bloodsucker.]
[I have a data point you're not likely to get anywhere else,] he offers. [I was force-fed the blood of about eight vampires, in considerable quantity, and I turned in just shy of six hours after they killed me.]
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