[ That is a most accurate description of Sherlock. Only instead of medication, he usually has nicotine to aid him in calming down and due to his limited supply of said drug, he isn't about to waste it in the first few hours of being in this location. His hands part, one of them nervously worrying his lip. There's words being mouthed as if he's speaking without uttering a sound but when the other man speaks, Sherlock snaps to attention.

The most irritating bit about all of this is this strange, cloying sensation in his brain, in his blood that's making him want to do something but he doesn't know what. It's like there's heat pooling in his stomach, pressure at the base of his spine, a sound at the bottom of his throat and he doesn't know how to express any one of those feelings, nor does he know the cause of them. A dull ache has crept its way down to the tips of his fingers and shot up through his chest, and, well, lower, but he's not certain as to what's prompting this ache, or what it means.

Irrelevant. ]

Don't be dull. Anything can be disguised with the appropriate technology. People can be silenced.

[ The latter part of the man's question is acknowledged with a glance, but not answered. He could ask for clarification on what 'shifters' and 'vamps' were, but Sherlock was assuming that this man was still talking about sex, and really couldn't be bothered to question the man further regarding it. He does have to pause however, brows furrowing, before turning his head to glance back at the man. ]

Tell me what you've seen, the more descriptive, the better. There has be a connection between all of these people. [ And I will be the one to discern it.

Now it's hot. But not temperature hot, at least no external. The heat is bubbling up from inside of him, and Sherlock ponders if the drugs administered have any long-lasting effects. He disregards the feelings for now. ]