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The cerulean blue river succumbed Sherlock and William in its body, deep enough to halt their lungs and worry about the authorities catching them. Sherlock's cold hand remained to grasp William's blond hair washed by the littlest moonlight with stress.
In a matter of seconds, he opened his dark eyes that winced by the merciless saltwater, yet he did not give in to shut it. William's fragile frame resided in Sherlock's-- almost out of air. Unlike William, Sherlock has the unstoppable will to live with the 'retired' Lord of Crime.
This time, he left no hesitation to use his mightiest wits-- now that their lives are on the line.
Sherlock watched William's medallion eyelashes go forward, revealing his crimson eyes; and they let go. They swam with freedom and trust, the freedom to defy the ordinary rules of gravity and channel weightlessness, until they reached under the stars while making sure the both of them made it into the surface.
The cool, but very gentle breeze reached their nostrils, the air made their lungs lively. They have never seen each other drenched in a watery mess while moonlit in contrast to their proper everyday look-- especially William. Not once has Sherlock seen his friend with unruly features.
Beautiful.
Sherlock released a laugh for having thoughts not meant in the moment, at least not now, and said, "There's another bridge in the east. We're most likely not to be seen there if we hurried up."
"I'll see you there." William swam, keeping the memory of the swimming lessons he got from Instructor Jack, the one who raised the Moriarty brothers, then executed it. Sherlock followed him, with no trace of uneasiness, since he had faith for William from the first day he had acknowledged his intellect and skills.
While he ignored the strong and salty taste on his buds, Sherlock eyed a strong built guy under the bridge. He noticed how William continued to swim; so he concluded that they were coming towards an ally.
"William." The man with coal hair assisted William to step onto the platform with his right arm, then held Sherlock's arm, swiftly pulling him towards him.
"Thank you so much for saving William," with a shaky voice laced with gratefulness, he let go of the detective to let him disperse away the excess water from his drenched clothes.
"I just did what I want to do," Sherlock replied.
"Colonel Moran, I'm quite surprised that you got here quickly, and correctly." William slowly plucked his buttons away from the holes, revealing his slender chest and cool collarbones.
"It's just a wild guess," Moran said.
"Don't tell my brothers or anyone that I survived. It'll waste the plan and it might interfere with their future actions."
"Understood." He gave the clothes and robes sitting on his other arm when Sherlock and William's shivering upper bodies were exposed under the frigid air. The little warmth of the fabric fought the icy sensation; although William had wished his cold heart would have the same effect.
"The people were still gathered near the Thames, while Lestrade and John were searching where you fell," Moran said. Hearing John placed Sherlock on another stress, but remembering how supportive he was about saving Liam, he did not weep further.
"So the safest route is to go to the Broadfields," Sherlock said.
He picked their coats and long sleeves that were soaked in water, placing it inside the receptacle given by Moran after letting tears of water flow to the ground with a squeeze.
"Let's get going," Sherlock placed a hand on William's behind with gentleness after he wore the bag.
"Farewell, Sebastian Moran." William's lips formed a small smile towards his accomplice, ending it behind the huge project that was successfully performed. Moran reciprocated his gesture as well as Sherlock— knowing that whenever a first name escapes William's lips, he has regarded them as someone special to him.
Moran softly laughed, his tired eyes were shut. "I'll visit soon, William and Sherlock."
**
The two under their hoods journeyed away but the thoroughfare, avoiding brown gluey mud and moist gravel that may give away their departure. Sherlock is normally known for his laid back posture with his slumpy walk, so he made sure he's standing tall with firm movements, while William remained the same, but with gentler footsteps.
Because of William's plan, it has caused massive effects on the country's behavior on all aspects; from the economy, to the mentality of the aristocrats and citizens. Not a single person have they seen on the streets within the dark, as well as animating carriages, unlike a few weeks before the aristocratic killings. It made escaping much easier.
The night was very silent, nothing but the sound of their own exhausted breaths and thudding hearts.
As they walk, Sherlock was very tempted to talk, ask questions, and plan with William, but he wouldn't risk things for what he wants without thinking for the both of them, like his recent lesson with John after he was tainted the sin of murder. He knows how William drained himself not only in the current night, but every night of his life, so he let him rest. He glimpsed at William's dead- looking eyes that hurts him, too. There was nothing that Sherlock could do in the moment rather than slipping a hand inside of his.
Stepping through the eternally moonlit forest of the Broadfields, they found themselves walking deeper while their weight crushed little twigs and dead leaves.
William took his hand out of Sherlock's touch, and released his blonde locks from the hood of their black robe. Sherlock did the same, rest assured that they'll be safe, for now.
"Liam," Sherlock called him, placing his hands inside the moist pockets of his pants. "Where do you want us to live?"
"I never wanted this."
"Never wanted what?" Sherlock knew it was foolish to think that William doesn’t want to live with him, but he made sure anyway.
William halted beside a trunk, placing his weight to the rough bark. "To live further."
"Again," Sherlock lifted a chopped log and placed it near William. "Don't use death as a cheap escape route. Death does not mean atonement."
Sherlock sat on the log. Tugging William's robe to gesture him to sit beside him, he scooted away. After William sat, Sherlock leaned on the bark behind.
"I know you wanted to live, Liam. I'm not sure if I'm entirely correct, but I want to know why you are gatekeeping yourself from the idea."
William palmed his shivering face, hiding his eyebags. His voice shakes along his body. "There was this kid. He is the son of the Duke of Gloucester."
His grip tightens. "No matter how much I wanted to avert my thoughts away from that matter, I always hear him screaming my name and the words, 'I will never forgive you' repeatedly. I.. I wouldn't forgive myself either. I killed his father without letting him know that he's a sinner."
Sherlock yanked away William's hands from his face when he was about to dig his nails in, and placed his bare forearm. "Dig your nails in there for all I care as long as you don't do it to yourself."
His hands relaxed when Sherlock's strong arm laid beyond his touch, and continued, "That was my breaking point. It was true that I may continue on living."
His eyes averted on Sherlock. "It was proven when fate showed mercy, for once."
Sherlock grins, until William talks again. "Though, that doesn't mean I can handle living any longer."
They both sat in silence, sightseeing the twinkling stars that glistened at them and the whole forest. He noticed the held back shivers from William's hands, thinking that Sherlock wouldn't notice. He stood up and dives his hand inside the receptacle, feeling the moist clothes. When he found his long-sleeved shirt, he quickly grabbed its chest pocket to see his match box wet. Taking out the contents, he sighed and threw the box to William.
"As expected, the matches were all mushy," Sherlock said. William looked through the matches as soon as he caught the box and replied, "All of the matches’ compositions were dissolved by the river."
“That’s Moran’s bag, right? Check again.” William’s restless face averted at the bag, watching Sherlock digging in the contents. He smiled cheekily and took another box of matches. Opening it resulted in another smile, and William already knew why; so he stood and searched the surroundings.
Sherlock dropped the bag by the log and held William’s shoulders. “Sit down, I’ll take care of it.”
“Please.” His scarlet eyes locked with Sherlock’s dark ones. “It’ll put my mind away for a bit.”
William’s shoulder was released. Sighing, Sherlock replied, “Fine, but don’t overwork it. I’ll gather the larger logs.”
Three minutes in and they successfully made a campfire that is small enough to not let the smoke rise beyond the woods, and just the right size to create warmth. The heat of the fire pierces their low body temperature, easing the tense from the unsatisfactory climax that took place— that is, from William’s perspective.
However, Sherlock was overly grateful for their fate. The peaceful life living with John and his wife, Mary, the life when he and Miss Hudson were having heated, yet simple arguments, the joy of having to solve different cases with freedom— he threw them all away, he sacrificed it all away, everything for William James Moriarty. He wouldn’t throw it only to die.
Being alive with him under the galaxy was more of an ending than he could ever hope for, ever since he shot Milverton. This reality fuzzes internal warmth for him, his heart throbbing for a new turn with his soulmate. All he hopes at the moment is for William’s feelings to be the same up until the present, the same before he declared to ‘close the curtains’.
“Liam,” Sherlock leaned closer to William whomst curled in his own knees and asked the question that was never forgotten. “I want to know everything: your thoughts, your feelings, and your plans.”
William looked away, somewhere between the gap of two giant trees. Sherlock said, “I know you’re having a hard time with words and saying things face to face, but there are no fountain pens nor papers. It’s just us.”
“You never miss, detective.” William looked at him again, unsurprised for stating his observations from his personal letter. “Perhaps I should address you as ‘friend.’”
“Bingo. There’s nothing to compete with anymore. Like I said—,” Sherlock grabbed both of William’s hands, making sure he’s being tender. “I’ve finally caught on you.”
“I remembered it without the ‘on’, Sherlock,” said William.
Sherlock smiled and replied, “I caught you, too.”
He was relieved when he saw William with a genuine smile, even if it’s not the happiest. Sherlock asked again. “So, you haven’t answered my first question.”
“Give me time and tell yours first.”
“Fine, where should I start?” His eyes gazed upon William’s hand resting in between them, then he continued, “Well, my thoughts remain the same. I want us to live, both you and I. Especially you, since you are the mastermind of a big change, sacrificing things in the way. It would be really unfair if you don’t get to see the world you have created, considering you’ve planned this since you were a child, right?”
“Yes.”
Sherlock slowly drove his hand near William’s. “I’ve liked you a lot. Everything you said in your letter is what I’ve been feeling ever since we met, and it has never changed. That’s why I cannot ever let this past. I cannot let you past me, now that you confessed your mutual feelings towards me."
His pinky brushed William’s slender one; and when he didn’t react, Sherlock let it rest on top.
“I wanted to live with you. There’s no way in hell that I’ll wait for our rebirth before we get to know more of each other." He tucked his pinky in William's. Slightly tilting his head, he whispers, "Let’s construct a cottage or something.”
William’s chuckle can’t help but make Sherlock's smile widen, his eyes locked on his friend’s face. “A cottage was your first plan?”
“We can stretch that plan out within minutes later,” said the flustered Sherlock. “I’m more concerned about your well-being this point in time.”
His eyes watched William zoning out, washed by the orange hues from the fire that his crimson eyes were locked upon. Sherlock’s temptation arises. He wanted to slide his hands on his unruly blonde hair and slide his waist against his, and just hold his slim figure for dear life, hoping to take some of his burden.
Suddenly, William’s body weakened, flinching himself to the ground. He found himself in Sherlock’s arms before his face dropped.
He cannot contain himself further.
A sniff escaped from William. “I wanted to lie to you, I wanted to convince you to take my life. I hate how I easily took someone else’s but mine.”
William crying his heart out was something that breaks them both. Sherlock whispered, “Liam…”
“But it won’t work, I know that. If I were in your place, I would’ve seen through your falseness. I can’t take my life, because my life…” William’s crimson eyes averted at Sherlock, glossing under the moon. “...is now yours, Sherlock.”
Sherlock wouldn’t have thought to see his former rival be vulnerable in his presence, yet he gladly accepted it all— William’s tears, sins, and heart; so he embraced him. William has never let himself be vulnerable, moreover, in front of someone else. He hasn’t shown any weakness to his own brothers. Even to Moran, Fred, Jack, Von, and Bond— he was only calm and collected in his position as their master; and he has only been in vulnerability when falling asleep whenever he’s tired at any time of the day.
Warm tears flowed for the first time in his life.
“Tell me everything, Liam. I’m listening.”
All the weight of William’s body is on Sherlock’s wet shoulder, but he didn’t mind, knowing that William’s grief was much more of a hard task to carry, and he had carried it since a child.
William cried, “I’m guilty, so guilty and ashamed. The world sees me as the villain in the story, and I do, too. I’m a criminal myself, and I deserved death. I was ready. I already had letters for everyone and for you. Amidst that, I didn’t let myself further worry if you’ll be reading them, since I accepted death long ago, considering the contents of that letter. The reason why I wanted to live because I want to entrust the world together, both you and I. It was never my intention to be selfish and pass the burden to you alone.”
He held Sherlock’s arms. “I have discussed to you that there may be a future without death… I didn’t think it would come to light. You saved me, Sherlock. Not once, but so many times.”
“When were the other times?”
“The most fun that I have ever had is with you. Whenever I’m with you…” William paused, his lips let out soft sobs and left his sentence unfinished. “I’m guilty, not only for the killings, but I also dragged you into this. You caught me so many times.” William backs away. “Yet I haven’t caught you once.”
William felt his ears vibrate from Sherlock’s laughter while he placed a hand on top of his yellow head. “You goddamn idiot. You’ve caught my attention." You've caught my affection, too-- something that I have never once thought I'll ever give to anyone. "You gave me the nastiest headaches when it came to the multiple mysterious cases, and the greatest satisfaction when I solved them all. Your plan was flawless. I’m the only flaw.”
Sherlock pointed at himself and said, “All I’m saying is that the choices I made are entirely up to me. You have nothing to be guilty about. I hope that reassures you.”
“It does.” William has yet again to look at the blazing fire, consuming the little twigs that he has collected earlier. “I want to burn my body and die, but…”
Nothing but the grizzly sparks from the campfire and the singing crickets passed their ears. Sherlock’s leather shoe repeatedly tapped the ground, waiting for William’s response. He brought down his impatient nature, for William, and him only.
Receiving no reply, he used his wits. “Your life is yours, Liam. I may serve a huge role in your life, but it will never be mine, even if I saved you. Though, I’m not letting you die nor burn your body. I understand your guilt and the heaviness of your burdens, so let me…” He turned his full body at William. “...let me share the burden with you. Let me atone my sins with you. Let me be with you on this earth and in hell.”
Sherlock looked at William’s wide eyes that came from the fire, his eyes glistening with hope as what the detective presumes. Sherlock's heart remained burning. “You said it yourself. I’m the only one who understands you. If you didn’t really want to live, why did you say something before we fell?”
Cheeks and ears of William were saturated with the orange glow, his lips in a line, shut. It has never come to his realization that Sherlock has heard his whispers as a strong gust of wind met up with them before they crash into the body of water.
“So I was right, my ears weren’t delusional.” Sherlock smiled, joyous about discovering more and more of William.
“Catch me, don’t leave me alone.”
The sentence from Sherlock, originally from William earlier, made him focus his sight on something else, perhaps the ground, the grass-- or simply Sherlock’s damp hair. William leaned in closer, something that Sherlock wasn’t expecting, leaving him as flustered and red as him, and stomachs tensing butterflies. Chunks of blue hair gracefully fell on Sherlock’s shoulders and collarbones after William pulled the knot that confined it.
“Your wet hair will suffer damage if you keep it tied,” William said without taking his eyes off the detective. “I admit. I did say that, but it didn’t matter. You have done it regardless even without asking,”
“That is the correct conclusion.” Sherlock mindlessly held up William’s chin. “Although, it was very nice to receive such words from you.”
Sherlock found his slim fingers sliding on William's flushed cheek, his pinky caressed his sharp jawline whilst making sure that his ring won't be leaving a mark due to pressure. "We may have opposing viewpoints, but you're a hero to me."
Another genuine smile formed on William's thin lips, and Sherlock prevented a bead of tear from flowing into his mouth using his thumb. William leaned on Sherlock's hand that's cupping his face, and spoke with the softest tone.
"That… is so delightful to hear. I completely understood that my life is mine, yet I still owe it all to you. You have my greatest gratitude."
"I'll always lend you a hand, like what true friends do."
"You can sometimes get too… cheesy," William laughed. Sherlock broke a challenging smile.
"You said that first. If I remember correctly, it was the last sentence from your letter's body, and you can't say it without facing me."
William turned his heated head away in defeat, his heart knocking his chest in a swift. Sherlock had another reason to laugh.
"You can be so timid, yet confident. I like that."
Sherlock picked up his long-sleeved shirt that he had found his sogged up matches beside him, and when his hand found it dry, he shook off the dust and dirt. He said, "Wear this."
He shifted his gaze away from William to allow him to change in private, shrugging off the desire to dress him up and examine his body. His ears listened to the noises, then he turned his body back when the noises stopped.
Sherlock's mind went into a frenetic pace whilst enjoying the sight of a messy William in his own shirt; folds of fabric were everywhere, for Sherlock's frame was much wider than William's. Cute. It was so close and private, only for his eyes. His cheeks were stained and hot, and he was sure it wasn't from the doing of the campfire. He had a hard time looking away.
"Is there something on my face to stare at?"
"Ah," Sherlock veered away with his red ears tucked under his hair. "That was rude, my bad."
"Strange, isn't it? It was never on my mind that we'll be together looking so disheveled that I wouldn't blame you for staring."
Sherlock's glossed lips formed a smirk, and replied, "Stare at me then."
"I had my fun with your tangled mess of a hair," William laughed, leaving Sherlock blushing.
"I'd like to live in Scotland," William rested his chin on his hand. "Would that satisfy you?"
Realizing that the professor has made up his mind, Sherlock had the biggest grin in a while, and bursted all his remaining spirit to tell the plans and options they have-- but most of the words collided from his lips were his personal feelings about the idea of them living together.
A cold night in the woods is quiet and gloomy, but their chemistry brought the night to life and made it surreal, just like them. They have forgotten the sins they had borne for so long when they made the most of each other's company, colliding brilliant ideas and heartfelt responses. Together, they have now solved their new lives' puzzles. Everything that they've done was supposed to be done after rebirth, as what William has proposed-- but Sherlock's will has pushed the idea in their lifetime. His will, his wants, has made their blood gush with adrenaline at the very moment.
He had caught William. He caught his heart, and the only task left to do was embrace it with warm fondness, and never leave it alone.
"Sherlock," William interrupted his friend, his blond eyelashes were slowly falling, his body swaying in faintness.
"Hm?" He responded, his arms preparing to catch William, again.
"Sherly… I'm still cold." He fell on Sherlock's broad shoulder, again.
He was willing to catch him, again and again.
Sherlock gave in to all the urges he attempted to sway away in the whole night. He slipped his hands on William's back and waist under his robe, his strong arms gave his sleeping body an embrace that tells William everything-- including his tears, sins, and heart-- that Sherlock is with him. He will never leave him on his own. Their warmth flowed as one.
Sherlock rested his chin on William's head, knowing that he has a lot more to say from his heart based on the several topic changes amidst conversations; but he's willing to wait before William tells him what he needs to know, and he's happy being himself in front of Sherlock.
As for William, despite the fact that he was the most vulnerable around Sherlock, he was already at ease around him, allowing his fragile body to fall asleep over Sherlock's naked body, feeling the safest and the luckiest to have someone like him.
**
"You just came back. You're departing again?" Louis asked while he clinked his cup on the glass table. He watched Moran fixing his tie, something that is very unusual for a man like him.
"It won't be for long. I'll be back for some wine," Moran laughed and shut the door.
Stepping in a carriage with a bag on his hands, his breath remained at a slow pace. He wasn't quite sure about his current mood.
Repressing ineffable emotions is one of his expertise.
When he arrived at the Broadfields, he did not waste a second, and ran. Woodsy aroma from the aged trees seeped in his nose when the air softly collided on his body. He wanted to jog against the calming breeze, but he needed to hurry.
After almost fifteen minutes of breakless running, he tidied his disoriented attire from all the movement before knocking on the wooden cottage in the middle of the woods.
A tall man with blue waves of chest length hair welcomed him by the door. He said, "Welcome, Sebastian!"
"You changed a lot within three months," Moran said to Sherlock who looked glowing with joy.
"Oi Liam, there's an affiliate by the door," Sherlock called William, who organized two cases filled with bare necessities. He turned to the door with his gentle nature, gleaming a smile to Moran.
"You made it in time. We're almost leaving."
"I was breathless from all the running," Moran laughed, noticing the prominent changes from his former master.
William had grown a ponytail that was tied up using Sherlock's knot. But what caught Moran's attention were William's eyes that sparkled with positivity, squinting with joy, and he has never seen it during the times he was with him.
Moran hugged the surprised Sherlock. "William is so much happier. Thank you so much."
Sherlock laughed and said, "Anything for Liam."
"I apologize for the small place. This place from the Holmes was made so long ago," William explained.
The cottage belonged to Sherlock's grandfather, who used it as a hideaway while he and his friends committed crimes. Mycroft has the key and has altered it, sending his trusted staff to renovate the hidden structure that would be convenient for the two of them to remain in for the last three months.
"Where are you guys headed now?" Moran asked while he took out the wigs he had in his bag. One of them was used by Fred in the past, now to be used by William, which brought a bittersweet ride of the past.
Giggles and snickers floated around the place when William had the luscious brown hair. His face was flushed. "I have no choice."
"Not looking so cunning anymore, hm?" Sherlock teased him while he wore a long black wig.
"I will be again in the next six hours," William said, clicking the cases shut. "I'll share the location when everything's secured, Moran."
"Now that our personal information has officially changed, we may leave." From William, Sherlock took up his own case. He tried to grab William's case, but he was rejected, so he instead held William's hand.
The two wore their coats, ties, gloves, trousers, and leather shoes neatly. However, Moran noticed that they had switched styles: Sherlock's outfit is so well-done, while William's shirt wasn't buttoned in the first two, and his coat was unbuttoned as well. Their clothing's color scheme also shifted, rendering them unrecognizable.
William's index finger bears the silver skull ring of Sherlock Holmes.
Moran became agitated when he saw something he wasn't supposed to see. The detective recognized it. Moran shrugged it off when Sherlock began laughing and put his finger on his chapped lips, requesting Moran's silence.
"What about the house?" Moran asked, holding back his laughter.
"It'll be burned by my brother," Sherlock answered Moran. His grip tightens on William's hand to lead the way.
Arriving outside of the Broadfields using a route that only a few knew of, they bid their goodbyes.
"Goodbye again, Sebastian," William exclaimed while Sherlock waved his hand.
Moran shouted, "I wish you guys well!"
When he was supposed to be sad, Moran burst out laughing as the sight he had tried to put away earlier reappeared in his head after the carriage pulled away the two. Between his neck and a collarbone, William had a purple spot, and a faint bite mark.