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A light breeze brushed William’s blond hair, humming delightfully as he closed his eyes to appreciate the chilly air that caressed his skin. He missed having breakfast outside in his garden during the winter. It was time for spring to return.
William took a sip of his Earl Grey tea, and he raised his scarlet eyes toward the person sitting in front of him. Sherlock looked moody yet again. He had been like this for a few days and it started to worry him.
“No interesting cases?” William said, and his voice got Sherlock out of his thoughts.
“Hm?” Sherlock took his eyes off the newspaper and directed them at William.
“You seem to be in a bad mood,” William continued.
“Everything just seems dull, lately.” Sherlock paused, leaning back in his chair. “Where do you think he is?”
“Who?”
“The Lord of Crime.”
William’s smile fade. So, that was why he looked so depressed; he was missing.
“He hadn’t been involved in a case in almost three years… it’s strange,” Sherlock continued.
“Does it upset you?”
“No. I’m just curious about what made him stop his crimes,” he looked at William again. “Do you have any ideas?”
William thought briefly. “Perhaps, he got bored of committing such atrocities… or found someone who is worth more than a life filled with crimes?”
Sherlock stared at his husband, not convinced by what he said. He sighed. “Well, as long as we have our mind games, and Lestrade keeps asking my help for interesting cases, I’m fine with that.”
He folded the newspaper and put it away. William looked at his husband with sad eyes and put his hand over Sherlock’s, trying to comfort him.
William hadn’t yet thought of a way to approach the Lord of Crime topic with Sherlock, even after two years of marriage. He had thought of many ways to talk with him about this, with the foolish thought that Sherlock would be happy to finally discover the identity of the criminal that had obsessed him since the very first day, but the fear that he could lose him for hiding such a crucial detail from him always hold him back from telling him the truth.
William cursed himself. He could be such a coward sometimes.
He then heard some strange noises, as if something was in pain. He looked around the garden and saw a white fur ball coming out of the bushes, slowly and hesitantly. It was a rabbit.
“What have we here?” William said. He got up from his chair and walked toward the animal. He quickly noticed that it had an injured leg.
“Poor thing…” he knelt near the rabbit, making it tremble in fear and stepping back a little. He extended his hand and spoke with a soft, soothing voice: “It’s okay, I won’t hurt you.”
The white rabbit shyly hopped toward William and sniffed his hand for a while before nuzzling its fluffy head on his fingers. William took it in his arms, and the animal squealed in pain and began to agitate in William’s arms. He must have touched its injured paw.
“Shh, shh… it’s okay,” he continued, still with a soothing voice. He turned to Sherlock. “It looks like it needs care.”
“We’re keeping her?” Sherlock said, surprised.
“Yes,” William simply responded, stroking the rabbit’s fur gently. “She needs a home and she's already attached to us.”
The rabbit had been with them for a week and William fell in love with it. He spent all his time with her, and made sure the wound on her paw didn’t start bleeding again and that it didn’t get infected. Sherlock should have known that Liam wanted to adopt her; when he came home yesterday, William was preparing a whole room just for the rabbit to live in.
“Are you sure we can take care of her?” Sherlock asked.
“Absolutely,” William turned his head to look at his husband. “She can put you in a good mood again. Animals have a gift for that. Here,” he put the rabbit on Sherlock’s lap.
The rabbit started to observe Sherlock; she sniffed his clothes for a long time, probably smelling the scent of the cigarette he had smoked earlier, and just when Sherlock was about to pet her, she hopped back onto William’s lap.
Sherlock then rested his elbow on the armrest of the couch, pressing his fist against his cheek, and observed the bunny from the corner of his eyes. A thought crossed his mind.
What if Liam started to love her more than him?
Sherlock kept staring at the rabbit and the poor animal started to feel the pressure of his stare on her, so she snuggled against William’s stomach. William then looked back at his husband.
“You don’t seem too thrilled about my decision.”
“That’s not it, it’s…” he sighed. “Nevermind.”
William smirked. “Sherly… are you jealous of this rabbit?”
“Wha—Jealous? No way! Why would I be jealous of it?!”
“Maybe you think I will love her more than you? I know you don’t like to share, not even your husband."
“It has nothing to do with jealousy!”
“Is that so? Well then…” William wrapped his arms around the bunny and got up from the red velvet couch. “I guess you won’t mind if I give her a lot of attention for the upcoming weeks? Her paw is not fully recovered yet, after all.” He said as he walked toward the door, ready to leave.
“No, wait!” Sherlock shouted as he stood up from the sofa.
William stopped walking, and he slowly turned to look at Sherlock again, with a smile on his face. Sherlock sighed again, and rubbed the back of his head, feeling embarrassed.
“Listen… I know I haven’t been in a good mood these past days… and I apologize for it. It mustn’t be pleasant to live with a husband with such disagreeable temper.”
William gave him a warm smile.
“Now, now…” he walked back toward Sherlock and kissed him. “Don’t worry, Sherly. You will forever be my number one.”
Sherlock smirked. “I better be! Who’s the one who makes you feel so good every night?”
William’s eyes widened a little out of surprise, and he shook his head. “Idiot…”
Sherlock reached a hand towards the bunny, now asleep in William’s arms, and caressed her fur.
“Did you find her a name?” he asked.
“Well... I thought of calling her Snowball. It suits her, don’t you think?”