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Everyone has bad days. William, of course, was not an exception to that rule.
In fact, ever since he woke up from his coma, the bad days seemed to multiply. After all, how do you figure out what to do with your life when the very thing you had been planning since childhood did not come to pass?
That didn’t mean William was ungrateful or wished he had succeeded instead. Quite the contrary, even. He knew he would never be able to fully atone for his sins, but a certain detective made him want to try.
Said detective seemed to have developed a sixth sense of being able to tell, no matter how far away from each other they were, whenever William was stuck in his own head with unpleasant thoughts.
Which led them to their current situation.
Despite William’s best efforts, a few tears managed to escape, cascading down his cheeks. He hurriedly wiped them with the back of his hand, feeling more than a little silly for his emotional reaction. ‘Crybaby William’ indeed.
Sherlock, however, didn’t appear fazed. Instead, his eyes held sympathy with a touch of melancholy and so much warmth that it left William dizzy. The detective reached out to hold his cheeks in his hands, effectively halting his movements and making his ragged breathing hitch.
With a smile that radiated comfort, Sherlock caressed the skin just beneath his eyes with his thumbs. A gesture so tender, so achingly gentle that William felt his throat clog up.
Did he really deserve to be held like that? Like he was something precious and worth protecting? Like the sins that haunted his every waking moment were nothing more than a few thorns in his path?
Regardless, William couldn’t help but lean into the touch with a trembling sigh, eyelids fluttering shut as he nuzzled against Sherlock’s palm.
“Liam…” Sherlock breathed in the quiet between them, voice barely above a whisper, hesitant but dripping with as much affection as the two simple syllables could hold.
At the sound of his treasured nickname uttered in such a loving, intimate tone, William had to hold back a delighted shiver. “Sherly,” He teased in return, letting his lips quirk up into a slight smirk.
Sherlock’s reaction was much more transparent. William observed with no small amount of amusement as the detective’s skin was instantly littered with goosebumps.
It was fascinating, how Sherlock could exceed the professor’s expectations so often, whist also remaining an open book to him. A book he would never tire of reading, but a book nonetheless. His excitement towards the way William called him being a prime example.
At first, William would only refer to him by his last name, not exactly for formality’s sake, but rather because he felt as if that fact would put some necessary distance between them. It would be cruel to allow himself to become closer to the detective, only to die not long after and thus leave him heartbroken, after all.
(Another reason William had previously refused to acknowledge was that he was afraid. Afraid of what would happen if he grew too attached and begun to hesitate. He had to meet his end for the sake of the plan and as penance, it would not do for him to stay with someone who may eventually make him want to cling to life. How ironic to think about.)
But now, he didn’t need to hold back anymore, did he? And if such a simple thing as a nickname made the other man happy, well, William supposed he could indulge a little. Besides, he quite liked the way it rolled off the tongue. Seeing Sherlock become momentarily starstruck every time William called him that, despite it being so often now, was another plus. He couldn’t deny the detective had an attractive smile, after all.
Sherlock swallowed heavily before clearing his throat, bringing the blond’s attention back to his deep cerulean eyes that resembled a cloudless twilight sky. They had a certain glint to them, an emotion that William couldn’t quite name but was oh so familiar with.
“Liam, you, ah…” William waited patiently as the other man stumbled over his words. He trusted his intuition as to what was about to be said, but his stomach still swooped when Sherlock continued with, “You do know what my feelings towards you are, yeah?” It was incredibly endearing how red his cheeks flushed, reaching even the tips of his ears.
William broke eye contact then, glancing away somewhat bashfully. “I believe so, yes,” He admitted softly. And it was true. Subtlety did not seem to be in the detective’s vocabulary, especially when it came to the feelings he bore towards him. The man truly wore his heart on his sleeve.
Even so, there was a glimpse of uncertainty in his answer, brought on by the fact that the professor indeed had his doubts about the depths of said feelings. In the beginning, Sherlock simply found him intriguing due to his possible ties with the Lord of Crime. It was no secret how much the other man loved mysteries. Now that William’s identity was exposed, he was no longer one himself, was he? Wasn’t there a possibility that it was but a matter of time before he ceased to be interesting to the detective?
Deep down, he knew such thoughts were completely irrational. After all, if that were the case, Sherlock would have left his side long ago. Jumping off a bridge to save his life was also out of the question. And yet, the insecurities William had managed to keep hidden under lock and key his entire life latched on unto his moment of weakness after the fall and refused to loosen their grip. He felt vulnerable like never before.
When he looked back at Sherlock, it was to give him a hopeful smile. A silent plea to get rid of those doubts in one fell swoop. “Although… I’d like to hear it out-loud, if that’s alright.”
He was not expecting how fast Sherlock moved. One moment they were sitting beside one another, but then the detective wasted no time in kneeling in front of him, clutching his hands in his. The grip was tight, too much so, and William held back a wince. However, Sherlock still took note of his posture, because of course he did. With a muttered apology, Sherlock intertwined their fingers, far more carefully this time.
It didn’t escape William how sweaty his palms were. But he did not mind, as he was positive his own were much the same.
The other man took a deep breath, one that came out heavy and shaky. Then, he began to run his thumb over William’s knuckles ever so slightly, tracing invisible patterns. He did not miss the way that Sherlock’s hand trembled, barely noticeable but still there. Nervous.
“Liam?” The detective’s usually low, steady tone came out hoarse.
William hummed in encouragement, taking a risk to lightly squeeze his hand reassuringly.
The action seemed to give Sherlock the burst of courage he needed. “I’m so fucking in love with you,” Before William could even think of replying to the admission that made his heart thud loudly and painfully against his ribs, Sherlock rushed to continue, cheeks painted scarlet and a slight stammer to his voice. “I think I have been ever since we first met aboard the Noahtic. And every time after that, everything you said and everything you did just made me fall deeper. You’re incredible, Liam. Your intelligence, your personality, your appearance… Really, how could I not be crazy about you?”
“Sherly-” William tried to interrupt, overwhelmed. He didn’t need a mirror to know he was blushing as well, despite his best efforts to suppress it.
Sherlock shut his eyes tightly, letting go of his hands. William immediately mourned the loss of his warmth. “I just felt like you needed to know. Even if you don’t feel the same, it’s-”
At the last remark, however, William gaped at him, caught off-guard. Did he really not realize?
The blond couldn’t help but chuckle incredulously, cutting him off. Sherlock clearly took that the wrong way, taking a step back with hurt shining clear in his hypnotizing gaze. William hurried to amend before any misunderstandings were formed. “I was under the impression that detectives were bright individuals,” He sighed in mock-disappointment. “It appears I was mistaken.”
Sherlock downright pouted at that, furrowing his eyebrows. How cute. Before he could protest, William continued, “I expected someone with such astounding observation skills to have no trouble figuring out my rather obvious infatuation with you.”
Silence engulfed the room.
A beat. Two beats.
And there it was. Sherlock’s entire expression lit up as he threw his head back and laughed, loudly and gleefully. William simply watched with a smile as he did so, for once not bothering to disguise the fondness he knew was carved into every inch of his face. He ignored the faint sting behind his eyelids.
It took a moment for the other man to compose himself. He wiped the moisture gathered in the corner of his eyes, one that William wasn’t convinced was simply due to laughter, and gave the blond an ecstatic grin. It was full of pure and genuine joy, and knowing he was the cause for such a breathtaking sight made William feel weak in the knees.
He wasn’t given much time to admire it, however, as Sherlock decided to approach him once again, leaning forward until their breaths mingled together and the professor’s line of sight was filled with nothing but a stunning shade of dark blue.
“I guess I can be a little stupid when it comes to you,” He said quietly, like it was a secret only for the two of them to share. Then, a certain fire was set alight in his eyes, reflecting something like mischief but not quite. “Can you blame me, though? It’s not easy to multitask, you know.”
William tilted his head slightly to the side with his best puzzled expression, already having a hunch of where Sherlock was planning to go with that but willing to humor him. “Multitask? Whatever do you mean?”
The professor’s little act of faux innocence didn’t deter him, for he sent a cheeky wink his way. “Admire your beauty and come up with coherent thoughts at the same time? That’s a tough feat, Liam.”
At Sherlock’s pathetic attempt at flirting, William barely had time to raise a delicate hand to cover his own mouth before a much-less-proper snort escaped him, shoulders shaking with it as he bit the inside of his cheek in a last effort attempt to hide an exasperated smile.
Apparently that was the reaction Sherlock had been aiming for, judging by how proud of himself he seemed. One would think he had won the lottery with the way his eyes sparkled.
Honestly, what a complete doofus his heart chose to fall for...
He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Oh my, what a charmer,” William commented coyly after his affectionate giggling died down just enough to speak. “Do you say such things to every criminal you manage to apprehend, Sherly?”
“Nah,” Sherlock shrugged as if nonchalant, though the pinkish coloring still high on his cheeks told a different story. “You’re just special.”
William had to duck his head at that, flustered beyond belief. He had always assumed the feeling described as ‘butterflies in one’s stomach’ was some sort of fabrication, or an exaggeration at the very least. He was shocked to discover that the common phrase was surprisingly accurate when compared to his current feelings.
A comfortable silence fell between the two, in which both sides refused to tear their gazes away from each other, like the man in front of them would disappear if they broke eye contact.
The moment only lasted a second or two, because it was then that Sherlock not-so-subtly averted his attention to William’s lips. The blond noticed, as it was impossible not to, and his smile widened at how incredibly shameless the detective was being.
Seeing as Sherlock looked perfectly content in just staring, William decided to take matters into his own hands. “May I kiss you?” He asked softly, shattering the quiet but anticipatory atmosphere they had found themselves in. Despite already knowing that the possibility of being rejected was slim to none, William still felt uncharacteristically anxious as he awaited a response.
Of course, he didn’t need to worry. As soon as the words seemed to register in Sherlock’s brain, his eyes became comically wide as the pink flush on his cheeks deepened. What truly stunned William was his following smile, however. One so radiant with happiness, and yet so unbelievably soft and tender that William’s heartbeat stuttered in his chest for the umpteenth time that night.
Instead of replying verbally, Sherlock slowly leaned forward, giving William plenty of time to back away if he so chose, despite him being the one to bring up the question in the first place.
As if he could ever change his mind about how much he wanted this. Wanted him.
Seemingly endless patience finally running thin, William reached out and gave the front of the detective’s coat a light tug, pulling him closer faster and then meeting him halfway. Sherlock made a faint surprised sound from the back of his throat before letting out a chuckle, muffled against his mouth, and returning the kiss with just as much enthusiasm.
In all honesty, kissing was really out of William’s area of expertise. He had read a fair amount of romance novels throughout his life, sure, but they weren’t really his cup of tea. Coupled with the fact that the real thing was vastly different from how they were described in the majority of literature he was familiar with, the professor could only be thankful he didn’t clash their teeth together by accident or anything of the sort.
So when Sherlock wordlessly offered to take the lead through body language alone, William gave it to him without complaint, forcing his tense shoulders to relax by reminding himself of what he was doing and who he was with.
He was kissing Sherlock Holmes. Rather clumsily and awkwardly due to his inexperience, but surprisingly enough William did not mind. The feelings he had spent months trying to bury deep within with little success were overflowing, spreading throughout his entire being. Instead of being suffocated by their weight like he expected himself to, the blond felt pleasantly warm, like standing in front of a fireplace during a rough winter night.
He was kissing Sherly. His Sherly, if he was allowed to refer to him as such. That thought alone hit him with a sudden wave of giddiness and euphoria that he was shocked by. He had never perceived himself as a particularly possessive person, but Sherlock did bring out multiple sides of him he had never known existed, so what was one more?
Lost in his own thoughts, he was barely aware of the way said man cupped his face and guided him to tilt his head to the side ever so slightly. William complied easily, drunk on the way he was being held, at how unbelievably gentle Sherlock’s request had been. Distracted, the gasp that left him at the change in sensation was inevitable.
Oh.
Oh, that felt… really nice.
Up until then, the kiss had been more about the emotions behind it, about making it clear where they stood when it came to each other. It did not feel bad by any means, but once it ended, William would have wondered what all the hype was about.
The shift was more than welcome, however.
Grinning against his lips, Sherlock eagerly swallowed his small noise of surprise, taking advantage of William’s dazed state to deepen the kiss. As soon as their tongues met, a violent shiver went down William’s spine, and he gripped Sherlock’s shoulders in order to maintain his balance and perhaps ground himself in the process.
The detective, in turn, circled his arms around his waist. He was not unaffected, William mused, if one were to judge by the tightness of his grip and the stifled groan he let escape as he attempted to pull him even closer.
In the back of his mind, William registered that Sherlock tasted like a strange mixture of tobacco and mint. The result should be at least somewhat nauseating, but in the heat of the moment William found it quite addicting. He knew he would be craving to taste it again the second they pulled apart.
Speaking of which, no matter how much William wished the moment would last forever, oxygen was still a thing they needed. He was the one to reluctantly break the kiss, marveling at how Sherlock’s first instinct was to chase after him with a soft sound of disapproval.
“Relax, Sherly,” The professor couldn’t help but add a teasing edge to his voice. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Those last four words hung in the air between them, as they held such great significance after the events that had recently transpired. They were calculated, but firm, leaving no room for doubt.
The other man took a heavy intake of a breath before leaning to press their foreheads together. “Thank you for choosing to live,” He said, quietly and sincerely, steady gaze locking onto his as ruby met sapphire. Something about his tone made William reach the conclusion that those words had been caged in his chest for quite a long time.
Overwhelmed by the rush of affection that washed over him, the professor playfully brushed their noses together in a light Eskimo kiss, chuckling at Sherlock’s responding wide-eyed expression. “Thank you for giving me a reason to do so,” He replied with just as much raw emotion behind it, hoping he was able to convey his gratitude properly through the gesture alone.
As they did not feel the need to exchange another word more, both men gave in to the desire of continuing their earlier activities. As if through telepathy, William wasn’t sure who closed the already rather small gap between them, all he knew was that, as Sherlock’s chapped lips met his once again, that was the place they were supposed to reach all along. Now, having caught a taste of what it was like to be loved by the charming detective whose embrace he had craved for far longer than he realized, he would never be able to give that up.
As they traded shy, tentative touches, William’s hands eventually found their way tangled in Sherlock’s hair. Briefly, he had to wonder if the other man would let him braid it another time. William had been asked by the other kids to do that quite a bit during his time at the orphanage, and he had always found it relaxing. Sherlock’s hair was definitely long enough for it.
It became obvious to him that his odd request would be met with enthusiasm, as when he gave the detective’s dark hair a slight tug, not nearly hard enough to hurt, Sherlock’s reaction was truly priceless. He was hit with a full-body shudder that William felt more than saw because of the minimal space left between them.
Feeling smug for the ease in which he had stumbled upon the newfound weaknesses, he let his nails lightly graze his scalp and Sherlock positively melted, turning into nothing but putty in his arms.
Sherlock was kissing him like he was a man dying of thirst and William was his only available source of water. It would be a lie to claim he didn’t enjoy it.
Not one to let William win without some exploration of his own, Sherlock pulled back only slightly, but before the blond could register it enough to consider complaining, any words he might have had immediately died on his tongue when he felt Sherlock begin to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses around his neck, from just underneath his chin to the base of his throat. William was quick to tilt his head to the side, granting the other man further access, thus making him smirk against his skin.
Biting his lip to try and prevent any inappropriate sounds from slipping past, it took him much longer than it normally would for him to realize that Sherlock was slowly but surely undoing the buttons of William’s vest.
He flinched.
It was barely there, easy to pass by unnoticed, but it was all it took for Sherlock to freeze on the spot before pulling back as if he’d been burned. “Shit, I got carried away,” His eyes were downcast, and he looked as remorseful as one could be. He also angled his body away just slightly, leaving William enough room to leave with no difficulty. “Sorry, Liam.”
Of course, it was unneeded, but the thought behind it was appreciated by the professor nonetheless. He lifted a careful finger to Sherlock’s chin, prompting him to look up. “You needn’t apologize, Sherly, I just…” He trailed off, unsure of how to put his insecurities into words.
Turns out he didn’t need to. After shifting his gaze through William’s face for what was but a few seconds, Sherlock’s eyes widened. “There’s something you don’t want me to see,” He concluded as though waiting for confirmation, but it was clear that Sherlock already knew that his assumption was correct.
William swallowed audibly, fear forgotten for a moment as he familiarized himself with the feeling of being stripped bare, not physically but emotionally. No one had ever been able to read his expression so easily, to see what made him thick in the blink of an eye. It was as exciting as it was terrifying.
William sighed with a smile that, judging by Sherlock’s worried frown, didn’t reach his uncovered eye. “It’s not a pretty sight.”
Furrowing his eyebrows in a saddened sort of confusion, Sherlock asked, “Scars?”
He could only nod.
The detective opened his mouth as though to say something, but then closed it again without a sound. This continued a few times before a sudden determination glimmered in Sherlock’s eyes, and he finally spoke up what was on his mind. “Every part of you is beautiful, Liam. I’m sure this is no different.”
He had to look away at that, overwhelmed. He had never been called beautiful before, nor did he expect to be, much less by someone who knew of all his atrocious acts and still insisted to look past that. It was difficult to believe.
Shaking his head violently, William let out a humorless laugh as he clenched his hands into fists. “You can’t possibly mean that.”
In actuality, William knew very well that Sherlock did indeed mean it, as he was no liar. Something inside him refused to accept that fact, however.
Sherlock’s eyes narrowed, but there was no anger or frustration on his features, only a passionate tenacity that warmed William to his very core. “Will you let me show you that I do?”
The blond wanted to refuse, needed to refuse, but his traitorous mouth decided to disobey him, as what came out was a breathless, “Alright.”
He must have been expecting William to decline, because that response made him pause. The uncertainly vanished in a second, however, and Sherlock carefully inspected him with a searching gaze that made him feel naked. Surprisingly, it wasn’t an unpleasant sensation, just a new one. For some reason, it also brought with it some sense of relief.
The other man must have found what he was looking for, as he placed a gentle peck on William’s lips before reaching out to continue with what he had been doing earlier, carefully unfastening each button. As he did so, he made sure to pepper butterfly kisses all over his face in an obvious attempt to distract him.
He could have been disgruntled or felt the need to remind Sherlock that he was a far cry from being made of glass, but he didn’t. He didn’t, because he knew and understood the sentiment behind it. Sherlock would never think of him as weak or frail, that he was sure of.
So, instead of dwelling over such things, William hummed contentedly and selfishly basked in the attention. Because hey, if Sherlock wanted to dote on him that much, well, William wouldn’t be complaining any time soon.
Sherlock’s distraction technique ended up working in the end, as before the professor knew it his vest was sliding off his shoulders, his shirt following soon after. He took a deep breath in order to try and ease his apprehensiveness.
“Still alright?” Came the somewhat bashful inquiry, azure pupils dilated but not daring to look away from his own scarlet ones without explicit permission.
William’s mouth tugged upwards at the display of self-control. If it were possible for him to fall deeper in love with the man in front of him, he would have. Nodding, William settled for a simple, “Yes.”
Try as he might, he still couldn’t help but fidget slightly as Sherlock’s eyes studied his figure with far more intensity than he believed was strictly necessary. Although it was obvious that he was in good shape and that his upper body was nothing to scoff at, combined with the large amount of admirers that were clearly astonished by his presence, William knew that he fit the mold on what people would refer to as 'aesthetically pleasing'. Sherlock’s awed expression still made him feel self-conscious.
“Sherly, you’re staring.”
“Sorry,” This time, Sherlock sounded the farthest from apologetic. “It’s hard not to.”
William felt like his heart ceased beating, just to resume far more erratically. Wordlessly, he turned around, squeezing his eyes shut the moment he heard a sharp gasp that the detective couldn’t contain.
He prepared himself for the onslaught of questions. Who? When? Why?
All of them had answers he wasn’t quite ready to give.
Just as he was about to say something, anything to break the tense silence that clouded the room, he felt Sherlock wrap his arms around his middle from behind and press a kiss to his blond hair.
“Do any of them still hurt?”
Now that was a question he wasn’t expecting.
“No,” He replied honestly, nothing more than a murmur. “No, they’re… from a long time ago.”
Sherlock hummed in acknowledgment, though it was likely he already figured as much because of the state of the scars. William could swear his grip became the slightest bit tighter. It was obvious that he was thinking hard about something, though William didn’t have a single clue as to what about. Perhaps he was measuring his words, trying to find a way to take his earlier words back without upsetting him.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
“You’re gorgeous,” It was easy to tell that Sherlock was hiding a goofy grin against his shoulder. “I’m so lucky that you have bad taste in lovers.”
William couldn’t say he wasn’t surprised by the sudden self-deprecation. By the intonation, William couldn’t tell if Sherlock had been serious or if that was his peculiar way of lightening the mood.
He suspected the former.
The professor wished he could see Sherlock’s expression, but as he tried to tilt his head to take a peek, the other man somehow pressed ever closer, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.
Despite his concerned frown, William relented, complying with his wishes to not speak face-to-face. “I believe both of us have some issues to sort through, don’t we?” The question was rhetorical.
Relief washed over him when Sherlock chuckled. “We make quite the pair.”
His laughter had always been contagious. William cracked a smile. “Indeed.” Then, with unnecessary hesitation, “I have been leaning on you for a long time, Sherly. Perhaps it is time for us to switch roles.”
The blond felt Sherlock shake his head. “We’ll lean on each other,” He corrected gently.
Sherlock loosened his grip then, allowing William to face him once again. The sight of blue eyes wet with unshed tears made his heart feel so full that he worried it would explode at any moment.
“I’d like that.”
Because standing by his side, he wasn’t the cunning killer, the Lord of Crime. He was not the genius professor, William James Moriarty, either.
Right then and there, in Sherlock’s embrace, he was simply ‘Liam’.