Archive of Our Own

Sherlock doesn’t do birthdays.

Celebrating the day of one’s birth once a year and pretending you actually care as people around you sing that horrendous and stupid song just drains the life out of Sherlock. He doesn’t get the formality­–the excitement. Never really cared if he gets gifts or not: solving damn mysteries is a gift enough for him, as cliché as he is. Typical detective.

Sherlock just doesn’t do birthdays– until he gets to spend three of them with Liam in their shared flat in New York.

He didn’t realize it at first. He thought Liam’s gift-giving gesture was out of appreciation for the new life they shared in New York, or commemoration for their first year living together, or even a late New Year’s gift­– it is, after all, five days since the new year.

Reasons are limitless to Liam’s thoughtful act, but the deranged detective never would’ve guessed the reason behind it.

“Isn’t it your birthday, Sherly?” Liam’s voice echo inside’s Sherlock’s seemingly hollow head, answering what seems to be the hardest puzzle he had yet to discover.

Oh! That’s what it is. That’s why there is a large red mark encircled around the 6^th day of the first month in their shared calendar. Liam likes to take note of things so he wouldn’t forget, which is a contrast to Sherlock’s unorganized methods– always forgetting things and only remembering them at a random. Even his birthday is not an exemption.

Since then, Liam is the one being trusted for the important dates.

“How did you even know my birthday anyway?”

“You’d think I didn’t look up after you before?”

A smirk. “I think you just like stalking me, professor.”

“What an old nickname to call someone who no longer is one, detective.”

“You know you like me calling you that.” A wink.

“Can we just please eat the ice cream?” As much as Billy wanted to tease and annoy the both of them, he feels like he’s the one suffering from the incessant flirting of the two.

When the 6^th day of the first month falls back in London, he doesn’t know what to expect. Being back was the closure he needed; he thinks. After all, he already had an established routine and domesticity with Liam back in New York. Of course, he likes seeing his friends back: John who has always been loyal to him, and Ms. Hudson who wasn’t given much credit– the young lady refused to open Sherlock’s former space in 221B for rent in three years. She could’ve earned some money for that time span, but the young miss had stated that it has always been Sherlock’s and it wouldn’t feel right to give it away.

Hm. Maybe Sherlock would tease her less from now. Not that he would ever stop, he still likes to give Ms. Hudson slight stress. The familiarity of their trio dynamic is a comforting reminder to Sherlock that things between them never changed.

But still, Sherlock doesn’t do birthdays unless it’s with Liam.

For three years, celebrating it with the blond is not tiring and draining at all for the detective. Liam doesn’t sing him the birthday song, which is honestly a relief but would later change to dismay when Billy, frickin’ Billy, would blast and start singing the song off-tune. Liam would genuinely laugh about the antic, which may not be so bad after all if it gets Sherlock to hear the other’s sweet laughter at the total nightmarish contrast of the American’s singing.

It’s a small price to pay after all.

His New Yorker life flashes right before him as he makes his way to the staircase of 221B. He misses their life back there. He misses his caring instincts whenever Liam shows any small signs of discomfort– always eager to be there to comfort the other. He might actually have to kill another person if one would find out that London’s eligible bachelor detective has been reduced to a New Yorker househusband.

It never really bothered him– the only thing that does though is the fact that they never even established a label between whatever the fuck they have. They’re definitely way past the friendship stage, even Billy says they have a special relationship. Is that all there is between them? Sherlock would want to know what kind of special that is, but has always distanced himself from the idea in fear of discomforting the other.

Three years and William James Moriarty could still be unreadable sometimes. But he’s the only one Sherlock Holmes would want to decipher.

A small gathering– Liam and Mycroft instructed. A small gathering for Sherlock’s day of birth. The same familiar people he had shared dinner with from the time Liam and he came home back from America. Sherlock remembers the dinner– it was nice and nostalgic. He would expect such instruction from Liam as he had always done similar back in New York, but Mycroft agreeing to Liam’s plan caught the younger Holmes off guard. Mycroft is also not a party man himself. He would definitely not throw one for his little brother. So why had he insisted?

Sherlock arrived at the door to his room. He reached for the knob and turned it slowly, the door creaking slightly as he finally opens the door widely, revealing the man of the hour himself.

A mixture of pained and shocked expressions hung on his face when the first set of people he connected eyes with are his parents. 

Their parents!

Liam shot him an apologetic look, while Mycroft, Mycroft, had the nerve to give him a sly smirk. For a second, Mycroft looks like a bully big brother who sold his younger one to his parents for something the big brother definitely did. That is what Sherlock feels like as a swarm of warm bodies went closer to give him a hug. He didn’t even feel the hugs at first.

Choruses of “Surprise!” and “Happy Birthday, Sherlock!” and even a “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost, ponytail-senpai!” (definitely Billy) met the detective’s ears. He gave them all his thanks. He’s very grateful for them, really, but he just wishes that he could spend the day with his Liam– he was the reason why he agreed to this anyway, with a few threats from his older brother whom he didn’t have eye contact with since he arrived two minutes earlier.

He made his way to Liam, of course. Sherlock can see him fiddling with the ring on his right hand that the detective gave him some time back in New York– an unspoken promise, that they would come back to each other after every mission. Sherlock had also worn his other pair on his right hand as well, mirroring the very shiny glint of the scarlet ruby adorning the finger on Liam’s delicate hand.

“I apologize,” Liam started. “I know you wanted a small gathering but… Look, there are just too many people you’ve associated with. Lives you’ve changed in even the smallest ways, like mine.” The last phrase sounded small from Liam’s lips. The blond took the detective’s hands in his. “We just want to appreciate you, just let us have this. You only have once a year after all.” Liam smiled.

Sherlock literally can’t take it. Liam’s words haven’t really registered inside his mind when his hands were in contact with his. They look like they’re saying their vows, goddamnit. A small flush of red is starting to creep from his neck, and it’s only a matter of time until it reaches his face. It took Sherlock his whole will to repress back the blush.

His parents saw the whole thing going on.

He feels his mother’s piercing gaze boring to his skin. As much as he favors his mother so much, he also has a deep sense of respect and fear of the lady. The woman is as stern as a military disciplinarian­– always too quick to analyze one’s wrong move and calls them out for it. Maybe that’s where Mycroft got his penchant for the military position.

His father, on the other hand, has a playful smile written on his face while he switches his gaze between Liam and Sherlock, back and forth. A man who is everything their mother isn’t. A laidback and easygoing man who lets his sons get away with things when they were younger. It’s a fascinating thing how opposites always attract– after all, Sherlock’s quite attracted to his opposite– though, opposite, but also similar in some ways– he can’t quite put a finger on it.

Mrs. Holmes cleared her throat to remind Sherlock of her presence.

“How disappointing, dear. Never even bothered to write a letter to your dear parents the moment you’ve arrived here?” Her strong voice never failed to give Sherlock’s spine a slight tingle. “We only knew of the fact from Mr. William himself, isn’t that right, dear?” This time, she focused her attention on Liam.

The said man offered a light chuckle before answering. “William is just fine, Mrs. Holmes. And besides, I asked help from Mycroft on how to locate you. I can’t take all the credit here.”

“Nonsense.” Mrs. Holmes stated as she moves closer to Liam. It’s a word she always uses whenever she disagrees with something, but never in a degrading way. “Without you, William, dear, my own son wouldn’t even bother to know the whereabouts of his own parents. I’d say you get all the credit, suppose that you organized this whole thing as well. Our Sherly would be lost without you, dear.”

Our Sherly makes Sherlock want to vomit. Honestly, the way his mother talks to Liam sounds like she’s giving him the worst description one could ever hear of about the great Sherlock Holmes.

To add fuel to the fire, Liam replies with a, “I’m just as lost too without Sherly, Mrs. Holmes.”

Oh, how Sherlock wants to get eaten up by the earth on his very own birthday. Why is everyone pulling the Sherly card? And by everyone, he meant the only woman he actually is afraid of and the only man who could reduce him to a malewife.

By the mention of the embarrassing nickname, Sherlock was sure he heard a whistle (high probability from Bond and Moran) and a burst of too-familiar laughter (from Billy, for sure). Sensing his son’s embarrassed state, Mr. Holmes clapped his hands once to gain everyone’s attention.

“Let’s start dinner, shall we?”

As expected, the whole dinner was eventful.

The Holmes couple shared stories from their travels. Both of them like to hop from one place to another, finding different sightseeing spots that caught their attention. This is why Sherlock never bothered to track them, his parents are having the best time of their lives spending their retirement in a different country every week. He has too many problems to take care of first.

Sherlock, in return, tried to retell their life back in New York to his parents, as they had missed the first time their son told the story. The detective also made an effort to miss out on some events that might earn a teasing remark from practically anyone who got to hear it the first time– Billy, most definitely, as he was the only witness of the whole Sherlock-William domesticity back in New York. Sherlock realized the numerous times the American’s name popped up into his mind every time he is in an awkward moment.

Liam, on the other hand, who developed a hobby of also embarrassing Sherlock in difficult times, retold their story with the actual domestic parts in it for the elder Holmes couple to hear. The detective doesn’t know whether to be delighted at the fact that Liam grew comfortable enough to be chatty and talkative at times, or horrified at the fact that Liam’s growth in chattiness puts Sherlock at a disadvantage as he is always at the receiving end of the incessant teasing.

Sherlock decided to be delighted, if it means seeing Liam conversing with his parents with a slight crease in his right eye and a genuine smile as his mother replies with the same vigor in her statement. He wouldn’t mind the teasing, really.

 “It’s good to see Sherlock’s area of interest involves someone and not something,” Mr. Holmes commented, earning a slight flush from his son.

“Indeed, darling,” Mrs. Holmes agreed with her husband. “And I’ll beat Sherlock myself if he didn’t take good care of William after all those years.” A statement that earned a good fit of laughter from the rest.

His mother’s sudden interest in Liam didn’t even faze Sherlock anymore. Liam’s alluring enigma didn’t go unnoticed by the detective at first, what more on the woman that raised the said detective. Liam’s also certainly not hard to like. Under the façade he constructed for years in order for his plans to prevail, there is a sense of genuineness under his fatal flaws. Such flaws made him a real person with a heart, such flaws were what made Sherlock fall in the first place.

His mother’s liking to his romantic interest made Sherlock’s stomach drop– like it’s urging him to pop the question right there and then. The budding bond between his mother and Liam just made him want to put a ring on his finger, to introduce him to his mother again not as a friend whose life he saved but as a lover.

Lover.

Lover.

Loving a man is not an issue to his parents­– they’ve always known he had an aversion to women ever since he was young. Sherlock has always been attracted to one’s intellect instead of what’s between their legs. Liam just fit the description he always had in his mind. To have someone who can meet him halfway, to have someone to share the same level of intelligence with.

“Time for gifts!” John’s voice suddenly brought back Sherlock from his stupor, startling him with the announcement.

He didn’t notice how many minutes have passed by. Everyone looked like they had a good time conversing with each other. Liam and Sherlock’s parents (Since when did his father join?) looked like they just had an amazing conversation about a certain detective and his embarrassing series of childhood events.

“You guys really don’t have to.” Sherlock finds himself speaking.

Ms. Hudson scowled. “Just let us have this, Sherlock.” She paused, and then continued. “Or should I say Sherl-”

“You don’t get to call me that,” Sherlock immediately cut her off, a finger pointing at the lady.

Ms. Hudson just shrugged and laughed. Billy (Again! Sherlock starts to think he owns this night now) didn’t let the teasing die down and said, “Right, because only William can call him that~”

Another laughter gained for that night again.

“His family also calls him that though?” John said. Sometimes, Sherlock wishes he should keep his mouth shut.

“Does that mean Will is part of the Holmes now?” Bond, Bond, had the nerve to add more fuel to the fire again. A hint of tease laced in his voice that drives Sherlock on the edge of discomposure again. Everyone burst into laughter again. Maybe there is something funny watching the great detective figuratively melt into a puddle.

As opposed to Sherlock’s flustered state, he finds Liam heartily laughing at the question, which made the detective’s heart twitch in desire. How he wanted to give Liam that last name. To give him a new name that he can finally call his. Sherlock pushed the forming thought away, he has to face his reality first.

His gaze connected with Liam’s. A single scarlet red looking right back at his dark navy blue. Three years ago, Sherlock would find emptiness in a healing process behind it. Now, contentment stares right back at him.

He’s happy that Liam’s happy.

“Right. Gifts. Give me ‘em,” Sherlock diverted the topic. Luckily, everyone complied.

John was the first one to give him his gift. A novel by an Irish poet he made acquaintances with when he was writing The Final Problem.

“It’s his only novel. It received some backlash and controversy back in his country. He said it was quite a ‘scandal’ back there.” John chuckled. “I gave it a read. It’s good­– the imagery was immaculate and you might learn a thing or two. It just reminded me of the events for the last three years. Give it a read.”

Sherlock inspected the material, its title ‘The Picture of Dorian Gray’ is printed slightly at the top of the paper, with the name of the author ‘Oscar Wilde’ right at the bottom of the title. “Murder mystery?” Sherlock asked.

“More of a gothic horror. Philosophical too.”

Sherlock unconsciously cocked an eyebrow at the reply. How John made a correlation between a philosophical gothic horror fiction to their situation for three years, Sherlock doesn’t know, yet. Maybe he’d give the book a go.

He tapped the book in the palm of his hand and said, “Thank you, John. This piqued my interest. I’ll definitely give this a read.”

John nodded in recognition. The next one to give their gift was Ms. Hudson.

“Hair ties?” Sherlock made sure to make his voice sound disappointed to irk the lady.

Successfully, the tone made Miss Hudson’s eye twitch in annoyance. “Look, you used to ask me always for a hair tie because you kept losing yours! And I have to keep buying because eventually, every hair tie I own is lost!”

Sherlock laughed at the landlady’s irritation. “Sorry, sorry about that Ms. Hudson. I’ll make sure I’ll never lose these next time. Thank you.”

Ms. Hudson nodded. “You better!” She pointed a finger as a threat.

Next ones to give their birthday gifts were Albert and Louis. A black wool three-piece suit from the older Moriarty while the youngest paired it with the same shade of Sherlock’s eyes for a tie and a new pocket watch. A complementary gift from the two Moriartys.

“Don’t I look like a noble with these now?” Sherlock quipped.

“We think you’d look good with these, Sherlock,” Albert said.

“These are from the same shop where we also purchase ours,” Louis added.

“You’re both making me a Moriarty now?” Another witty remark before Sherlock can stop himself.

Years before, the typical Louis would send him cold deathly stares that sting like a dagger on his skin every time Sherlock jokes about anything. Now, death stares are narrowed to eye-rolls, which Sherlock counts as a win. He’s pretty sure he also heard a light chuckle from the serious youngest brother. Definitely a win.

Sherlock gave his thanks and moved on to the next gift.

His jaw literally dropped when Billy presented him coffee filters. Speechless.

“Remember when you used a handkerchief as a coffee filter the first day you moved in together? Well, you won’t have the same problem now!” Billy explained as if Sherlock’s speechlessness was due to confusion.

Sherlock is annoyed. Like how one would be to their younger sibling when they’ve done something mischievous.

“Are you joking?”

“Barely. Look, you can now make endless coffees for everyone! 90% of them would be for William again for sure.”

Sherlock wants to hit him.

So he did. Just lightly. Because his mother is looking.

Billy, on the other hand, had the audacity to whine as if the hit was actually painful. The detective took the filters from the American and begrudgingly said his thanks. Because again, his mother is looking.

The rest of the MI6 was the next to give their gifts. Bond gave him a pair of dress shoes­– he stated that it would go well with the Moriartys gifts. Sherlock made a mental note to try out all of the gifts he received.

Herder’s gift was strange, to say the least.

“A communication device?”

“Yep! Like a telephone, but much smaller and you can carry it anywhere!”

“So… this works?”

Herder’s nervous chuckle says otherwise. “Well, it’s still a prototype. I just thought I’d give it to you as a gift! When my invention would get famous, I’ll tell everyone the great Sherlock Holmes was the first one to use it!”

The inventor’s enthusiasm is impossible to beat, so Sherlock said nothing but gave his thanks instead.

Next, Fred’s gift has a clear connection to his love of plants. He gave Sherlock three indoor potted plants: a jade plant, an English ivy, and peace lilies. Sherlock thought the plants would give his room some color, so he thanked Fred for his generosity.

Jack gave him a dagger, which has also a connection to his former career. Sherlock would describe himself more as a gun person, but the dagger’s hilt has an intricate design and the blade has obviously a nice quality. He thought he’d try to learn how to wield one. Sherlock expressed his gratitude.

Now, he never really had a personal connection with Moneypenny, nor had a proper conversation with her. But the lady still made an effort to give him a birthday present: a cookbook. Sherlock nearly gasped at the gift, as he always wanted to have one back in New York, yet never had time to purchase himself one. He always finds himself situated at the kitchen before, and the idea of trying American cuisines for him and Liam to try always excites the detective. Now that he’s presented with the opportunity, Sherlock took the gift and deeply expressed his thanks.

Sebastian was the last one to give his gift­– a deck of cards. Sherlock remembers that night, when he gave the single card to Sebastian as instructed by Liam. Sherlock was, after all, the savior of his friend on that fateful night. When he looked down at the card deck on his hand, Sebastian said, “Let’s have ourselves a game of cards sometimes while we smoke.”

Liam cleared his throat.

Right. He remembers all the methods Liam used back then just to make Sherlock stop with his smoking addiction. It was a bumpy ride, but it miraculously cured Sherlock’s itch to smoke a blunt or two.

Both he and Sebastian looked at the blond and gave their apologetic smiles.

Sherlock feels like he just got reprimanded by his spouse.

Now that everyone has given their gifts (except Liam– Sherlock’s stomach uncomfortably churned at the lack of gesture from the only person he actually expected something from), the talks have gradually quieted down as it’s nearing midnight. All of them have work or something to do by tomorrow, and the feeling of drowsiness is starting to catch up to them slowly.

Mycroft has also not given him a gift, but he actually expected less from his sibling, so Sherlock doesn’t really care. He’s surprised enough that he actually showed up to his birthday. His parents had also no gifts, but then again, he didn’t even expect them to come here, so their presence is enough for him.

But Liam… no gift.

Sherlock let out a defeated sigh.

His visitors are starting to say their goodbyes, dispersing as Sherlock had also bid them farewell in return. The MI6 were the ones to go, as they have a full day ahead by tomorrow. Liam excused that he won’t be returning back yet, which is an internal relief to Sherlock. Billy joined them instead. Mycroft was the next one to go, saying that the government won’t be running by itself without him. Sherlock honestly couldn’t care less, so he bade his brother farewell.

Sherlock found his parents and Liam conversing again in a far corner and decided not to disturb them yet, whatever embarrassing childhood stories that may be, he’ll actually tolerate it for tonight.

He decided to help John and Ms. Hudson clean up the plates and utensils in the meantime and lets himself lose in the feeling of doing household chores– an activity he admits he doesn’t want to do before, but after some New Yorker air knocks some sense into him, he actually likes doing it by now.

After the three of them completed most of their tasks, Sherlock’s parents called him to also say their goodbyes. Liam moved on and helped John and Ms. Hudson in return.

“Remember to write us letters every often now, we’re expecting some apprisal coming from you,” Sherlock’s mother said.

“As to know where our whereabouts will be, why won’t you use your brilliant deduction skills eh?” His father added, tapping his son’s shoulder.

“I will, mother, father. Thank you for coming tonight.”

Mr. Holmes chuckled. “What an interesting night indeed, we learned a lot about you.”

“Also, what an interesting young man too, huh?” His mother must be pertaining to Liam.

“Liam is…” Sherlock trailed off. Liam is breathtaking, thrilling, stunning. But sure, interesting, “… interesting indeed, yes.”

Before they completely went with their own way, Sherlock’s mother turned around and stated, “Our gift– it’s better to talk to William about it.”

They finally exited 221B.

Not that Sherlock expects a gift from them, but if it involves Liam then his curiosity is highly stimulated right now.

He immediately made his way to Liam, who is sitting on the couch in the middle of the room, alone.

“Ms. Hudson and John had retired to their respective rooms now, Sherly.” He patted the space beside him, gesturing Sherlock to sit beside him. “Can I have a moment of your time?”

Sherlock smirked at the question. Of course. “Sure, you can even have all of them.”

Liam laughed at the reply as Sherlock makes himself comfortable at the proximity between them. It painfully reminds his poor, feeble heart again about the silent moments they shared at their own couch back in New York. It was just like this– just the two of them and the comfortable banter they throw at each other.

“Don’t you go thinking you’re already off the hook, Mister,” Sherlock started, facing Liam beside him. “You really think I’d go easy on you after calling me that name in front of everyone.”

Liam’s sweet laugh echoed against the now-silent room which was just filled with everyone’s chatter an hour before. “I apologize?” He replied with a playful tone in his voice, tilting his head in innocence. Oh, how Sherlock is so whipped at this man he can’t even bring himself to be annoyed.

“You know, I’m also bothered by another thing,” Sherlock remembered Liam’s no-gift show.

“What is that?”

“You didn’t give me your gift.” Sherlock let the dejected feeling seep through the tone in his voice.

Liam’s lively expression soon shifted into hesitation and nervousness. A statement Sherlock should’ve just kept to himself, regretting the sudden mood of the other.

“Oh, it’s not that important, really. I’m just joking, Liam. You don’t have to give me anything.” Sherlock quickly excused, assuring the other that it’s not as deep as he thought it would be.

“No, no.” Liam slowly replied. “I do have a gift for you. Actually, it’s a joint gift from me, Mycroft, and your parents, actually.”

Mycr- Paren- What?

Sensing Sherlock’s confusion, Liam went on. “I asked help from your brother to track down your parents. I also asked for his blessing for your hand.”

Sherlock’s heart stopped.

“He laughed, not to ridicule me, but at the situation. Your brother had always the faith in you that you’d be the one to ask me and not the other way around, but he said he may be miscalculated your confidence, as you don’t have one apparently.” Liam lightly chuckled to comfort himself. Sherlock still remains silent.

“I have Mycroft’s blessing. He said that that would be his gift not only to you but also to me as well. As for your parents–” Liam paused, shifted his weight so he can pull off something from his pocket. A box. A ring box.

This is really happening.

“I went to meet with them days prior before this day. I had a lengthy conversation with them, explained how we first met, explained how our relationship developed, our cat-and-mouse chase as a criminal and detective.”

Sherlock was startled at the mention of the word criminal.

“It’s fine, they know about the Lord of Crime’s history. They’re too accepting, really. I don’t think I’m deserving­–”

“Hey­,” Sherlock was too quick to cut him off with that idea, and apparently, it was the first word he said for the past minutes Liam started to explain his gift.

Liam smiled at the reassurance. “I explained how you saved me that night, how you brought colors to my world, how you illuminated the path I’m walking on. Your father was smiling ceaselessly. Your mother still had the same confidence she holds herself high with, but I can tell she’s happy. I now have their blessings as well. And even gave me this.”

He twirled the ring box in his hand while showing Sherlock, still unopened, but they both know what it contains.

“A family heirloom, they say.” Still toying at the box in his hand, not meeting Sherlock’s eyes. “To replace this offensive promise ring you gave.” Liam chuckled. “At least, that’s what your mother said. It’s a mockery, she stated. To have my hopes up only to be let down by the sheer lack of engagement and assurance.”

Sherlock wanted to punch his old self. It’s true– his mother was right. It’s a downright mockery to unprecedentedly give Liam a ring out of nowhere, without an explanation, too. Leaving the detective’s act open to interpretation. He lacks the balls, really.

Liam’s sweet, breathy laugh cleared Sherlock’s thoughts though. “It was fine by me, truly. I know of your intentions, Sherly. I don’t need words to assure myself of your feelings for me. Saving me that night, living in with me, cooking and cleaning and taking care of me were actions enough to realize you harbor feelings for me. Well, I just have high confidence in myself that I didn’t read the whole situation wrong. Am I right, Sherly?”

“Yes.” Sherlock’s too-quick breathy response was evident enough to prove how eager he was to answer Liam’s question. He’s right, of course. He’s always right. Sherlock was never the vocal person to let his feelings and emotions show– he shows it through his actions.

Now meeting each other’s gazes, Liam took Sherlock’s hands in his. Their legs are comfortably entangled within each other’s on the couch– a habit they’ve developed during quiet nights back in New York. It feels nice.

“I–” Liam trails off. “I’m not doing this because I think I owe you a lot– you never made me feel that way, Sherly. I–” Liam trails off again, this time, paired with a nervous, shaky chuckle that Sherlock definitely knows where this is going. “I’m doing this because you made me feel like a human with a heart again.”

Liam.  

“A flawed design, yes, but nonetheless, still human– ought to make mistakes, and probably make more in the future, but I’m not afraid anymore. Because you’re here. You’re here to pick up the pieces back again whenever I break. Sometimes I wish I was a stronger person, so I don’t have to rely too much on you– I feel like I’m just a liability to you.”

“Liam, please–”

Liam smiled, squeezed the other’s hand lightly. “I know, I know you would berate me again for letting negative thoughts invade my head. But I don’t feel and think like that anymore, because I healed and you were there.”

“You did it on your own, Liam.”

“I know, but you still helped me. Guided me. Thank you, Sherly. Again. I’ll say those words again and again.”

Sherlock dropped his head and looked at their entwined hands and smiled. “It was honestly nothing.”

“You told me to be more selfish sometimes,” Liam replied. He tucked the other’s chin with his hand to connect their gazes again. An intimate action. He then moved both his hand to open the box resting on the blond’s palm for a long time now, revealing a simple gold band engraved with intricate Victorian designs in it. An engagement ring.

“This is me being selfish by asking you, Sherlock Holmes, to spend the rest of your life with me, William James Moriarty, someone who tries to be as noble as one can be; a simple young professor from a countryside university; a brother; a leader; a friend; a sinner; enemy to the people, but a lover to you. Only you.”

Sherlock’s breath hitched at the speech. A surge of warmth invaded his chest and spread to his face, his heart practically beating erratically at the statement.

“I’m all yours, Liam. For as long as we both shall live. For as long as you’ll have me, my love.”

With Liam, Sherlock doesn’t have to fear letting down his walls. To let his tender and caring side show– a side that most people knew nothing about. Sherlock is not a romantic, never had an experience either. But with Liam, he’s primed to venture out for new possibilities in their budding romance. To take a leap and let himself drown in the feeling of love. It’s foreign, but he’s willing to welcome it.

Liam’s shaky laugh brought back Sherlock to reality again. Their reality, now. They’re now engaged.

The blond plucked out the ring from its box as Sherlock extended his left hand. Liam’s hands were trembling as he slides the golden band to Sherlock’s ring finger. An action that made Sherlock laugh at his fiancé now. When Liam successfully slid the ring on the detective’s hand, the latter saw an identical golden band at the bottom of the box. It was his turn to pick it up and brought Liam’s left hand before him, and slid the ring to his finger as well.

His parents really came in prepared, huh.

Sherlock shifted and invaded Liam’s personal space, his lips connecting to the black eyepatch right above Liam’s left eye. It was a habit he used to do before, not really having a reason why he’s done it, now he can say there is a romantic motive behind it.

Liam smiled before bringing down Sherlock’s face to connect their lips together. It was hesitant at first, but they eventually eased at each other’s mingled breaths, panting for air after they parted for a bit. They immediately indulged at each other’s warmth right after, missing the feeling of the other’s lips to theirs. The lewd sound of the passionate kiss reverberates through the walls of Sherlock’s flat, and echoes right back to their ears.

They’re both starved. It was apparent how needy their kiss had become. Sherlock had always wanted to do it before, but always respected Liam’s space first. He lost count at the times he caught himself staring at the blond’s lips while he was talking about anything and nothing. He mentally scolds himself always.

On the other hand, Sherlock is not as subtle as he thinks he is, Liam thought. He also caught the detective staring way too much at his lips to be considered healthy. He’d always lick his lips in a suggestive way, to tease Sherlock more. To drive him at the edge. To challenge him to do something. Sherlock never did.

Sherlock could only recompense with the same fervor Liam’s putting into their kiss. The blond has been pinned down onto the couch while Sherlock hovers above him, completely dominating the other. Liam would just gladly submit.

The sudden chime from the Big Ben indicates that it’s midnight, meaning Sherlock’s birthday has already passed.

The 7^th day of the first month came, and for the first time, Sherlock wants to go back a day before.