Archive of Our Own ^beta

The physics behind bridges were quite simple. Gravity pulls things down, but each action has its equal opposite reaction, so the ground pushes back, which keeps buildings and houses from falling down. But bridges have no such thing, there isn't a ground below pushing back. Two forces, compression and tension, work in a way similar to gravity. While compression acts inward, tension acts outward, channelling the weight of the deck and the things that it carries on to the supports on the sides and the middle of the bridge. It was all a matter of balance, something the William always appreciated. 

For this to work, the material used to build said bridge needs to be strong enough and capable to channel the weight to the sides. To this day, a bridge made of glass has not yet been created. Glass was a fragile thing. He did not have strong links between he's molecules, so much so that when a force is applied to it, it makes a crack, and it breaks.  Bridges couldn’t be made of glass. 

This last year, William was having this dream where he’s walking on a bridge made of thin glass. Each step he took made a crack. He wasn’t even half way thought, and he knew that if he toked another step, he would fall. He starts to get anxious, he's body begins to shake, he's carefully toke steps starts to become sloppy, the cracks get bigger. Tears start to damp he's face, he doesn’t want to fall, he wants to get to the other side. His brothers are on the other side, his friends, his family, he can see them there. He wants to be with them, wants to tell them that he's alive and well. But he's not going to make it. He was going to fall and die. 

He thinks about turning back, make a run for it, maybe he can save himself, and try again another day. But Louis sees that in he's face, and he takes a step forward, and the ground beneath him cracks. William tries to scream, but no sound is heard. They can’t hear him, no matter how much he screams, no matter how much he tries to tell them not to come for him. Albert does the same, Moran right behind him. They were going to fall, they were going to fall because he was a coward, because he once again tried to run away. So he begins to run in their direction, the ground beneath him barely holding up, but when he's just at arm’s length from Louis, he falls, and they don't catch him. 

Sometimes, he is too scared to move, and he can’t stop his family from coming to him, so they fall. He kneels to the ground and cry, he cries until the ground can’t hold him any longer, and so he falls too. 

In each of those times, William would wake up damped in sweat, his face wet with tears, body shaking like a leaf and heart heavy like a rock. He would cry again, feeling lost, dreaming about some epiphany, about some ending to this everlasting nightmare. When would this end, and he would finally be able to get better, to go back to them? When would stop being so goddamn weak? 

Whenever that happened, William would wake Sherlock up. The other man didn't need him to tell him what was wrong, he already knew.  It toke William some time to trust himself to be able to tell Sherlock that. He was so used to keeping things to himself, to bear all the pain alone. 

But he didn't have to do that with Sherlock, he could not do that with Sherlock. Not after the man had given up his life for him. It wasn’t fair to hide things from him, not when he's been nothing but an open book, showing every page of himself to William every day, all to make him trust him enough to share his pages as well. William owed him at least some truth. 

So, one day, after a particular bad night, William set in their little table, his feet lightly touching those of the tall man seating across from him, making he lift his gaze to look at him with a questioning look. William lower his eye, hiding behind the blond lashes, suddenly feeling shy. What has he? A kid telling his parent about the monster under his bed? God, that has humiliating.

“What’s wrong, Liam?” Sherlock called, worry flooding his voice, “Is the coffee bad? I swear to God, I told Billy to choose good beans. He's such a cheapskate, that kid. Is not like is his money, if he wants to drink bad coffee-” 

He has cut by William’s soft laugh, “The coffee is great, Sherly. It gets better every day, actually. I might just give my Earl Grey tea up if you continued like that”, the blonde said, looking at Sherlock, smiling.

Sherlock, on the other hand, frowned. “Liam, why are you crying?” He asked, getting up from his seat and going around the table to kneel before William’s chair. 

William hadn’t even notice the hot tears coming from his eyes, damping his eyepatch, running down his neck. He tried to stop them, sniffling and wiping his face with the back of his hand. He open his mouth to speak, but only a sob came out. Sherlock looked like he was about to start crying as well, his shaking hands placed in William's knees, muttering calming things to him. 

It was just coffee. A nice drink, made by this man who carefully choose the beans in the market, to make sure the blonde only had the best. He did not deserve the best, not from anyone , not from anything , and specially, not from Sherlock . 

“Sorry” William said, almost in a whisper “I don’t know what happened, I was happy that you were so worry about my coffee, but then I was so sad about it all the same” He looked at Sherlock, and smiled a bit “Your eyebrows are almost coming together, loose the frown” 

Sherlock relax his face, letting go of a breath he didn't even realize he was holding, “It's more them just the coffee, Liam. Tell me what's bothering you, I'll fix it”

William felt like crying again, but hold himself back. Why he had to be so caring, so thoughtful. It was overwhelming, being loved this much. That's what this was, right? Love. Sherlock loved him. How as it possible that someone like Sherlock could love someone like him. Someone so strong and smart, loving someone so broken, damage beyond repair. How long it would take for Sherlock to realize that William could not be saved, how long until he decided that he was not worth this much work, this much pain?

William secretly hoped it wouldn’t take long. The sooner Sherlock realize, the sooner he could go back to his old life, to his friends and family. He could meet someone else, love someone else. William could stay here in New York, with Billy, if he would have him. He didn't desire to die any longer, he also owed that to Sherlock. To live on. 

But living didn't mean he had to actually enjoy this second life he was given. It wasn’t fair with all the other lives he toked, with all the other people he hurt in the process. What would those kid, who's father he murdered right in front of their eyes, think if they knew he was out there, living this beautiful life, being care and love by this amazing man, when all he left them was pain and sorrow?

This as what he deserved, suffering. 

Sherlock, oh ever so knowing Sherlock , toke his hand, kissing it. William looked at him, feeling the lump in his throat grow bigger “Stop” he asked “I don't deserve this” 

“Is not about deserving, William. It is about what I want to give to you. We’ve been through this before. Atoning for your sins is going to hurt, but it does not have to last forever. And you don't need to suffer to make it count. William James Moriarty, the Lord of Crime, died that day. You’re just William now, my Liam. And I know that sometimes is hard for you to accept that, but it's okay, we have time” Sherlock put his free hand on the left side of William's face, gently stroking the fabric of his eyepatch “Take this off, it’s all wet, you're going to catch an infection” 

He got up, pulling William with him “While a clean it up, you can tell me what's troubling you, so we can work on it, together, huh?” 

William let himself be led to the washroom. When they got there, Sherlock started babbling about some medicine that Billy had mentioned the other day, that could help with the scars “But only if they bother you” 

The scars definitely bother him. They were ugly and gross, William hated looking at them. Just one more thing in the never ending list of things that he loathed about himself. But saying that out loud would hurt Sherlock, make him worry even more about him. Some things were better left unsaid. 

So William smiled weakly, “That would be nice to try” He said as the other man begin to untie the knot on the eyepatch

“Want to tell me what's bothering you now?” Sherlock asked once again. William knew he would drop the subject if he refused to speak again, but he wanted to tell him. So he did. Every detail of it. How he felt walking on that bridge, how he couldn’t speak or scream or move. Sherlock listened to it, quiet. By the time he finished with the eyepatch, replacing it for a clean bandage, William had also ended his telling. 

Sherlock got up from where he has kneeling, and looked down at him. He was serious as he said, “Well, from what I gather, this is a metaphor for the fact that you don't feel ready to see your family again. This new life we're living is a journey. Once it ends, you will be with them again. But you don't feel like you deserve this, so you fall. And you also don't feel like they'll be okay with you again, so they fall” He started to walk around the washroom, he's face looking like the ones he made when solving a murder mystery, “I think is normal, considering that everything is so fresh, maybe if-”

“Sherly” William called him “I don't want you to interpret my dreams or give them a solution” he said, smiling amused “I just want you to hold me when it happens. Can you do that for me?” 

Suddenly, what he had just asked hit him. William felt his cheeks getting hot, and so he lower his gaze, ashamed.

God, what was he doing. Intimacy wasn’t anything new to them. They share a bed, they kiss. But still, to ask someone something like that out of the blue, it was too much. Sherlock probably thinks William is a touch starve man. He's going to feel suffocated by him, always clinging to him like that. He's going to leave.

“Of course” Came Sherlock's answer, “Course I can hold you, Liam. Anytime” 

William felt stupid. Sherlock, the man who jump off a bridge for him, would never have denied him a thing. That man would give him the world if he asked, a hug was nothing compared to the length of things Sherlock would kill and die to give him. He smiled, to which Sherlock smiled back. 

“Thank you, for everything” 

Sherlock laughed and got close to him, putting a hand in the back of his head and the other on his face, kissing the gold strands of hair on the top of his head, “You’re very welcome. Now, now, no more crying, or I might just cry with you the next time”

William let out a puff of air through his nose, “We don't want that, tears do not suit you, Sherlock Holmes” 

“Well, they also don't suit you, so stop it” 

William knew that he didn't mean for him to really stop crying.  Showing emotions has important, so he had said, months back, when the blonde was still too afraid to show any kind of weaknesses. 

The older man started to leave the washing room, but turn back to look at William, who was still in the same place, sitting in the chair close to the sink, “Well, come on now. The coffee is probably cold, but I can make another one” He said, offering his hand to the blonde, who accepted, let himself be guided once again, this time to their small kitchen, where he would, once again, make an unnecessary good coffee, just for him. 

Time passed, the dreams continued, but they were not too frequent, and when it happened, William wouldn’t feel so bad any more. He was still not fully healed, mentally speaking, but Sherlock reassure him that this was normal, that this things toke time, but the professor was tired. He didn't want to dwell on these dark thoughts any longer, but at the same time, he couldn’t keep himself from doing it. The feeling of deserving such pain still lingering with him, even after so much time. 

But things were easier now. It was easy to let himself enjoy simple pleasures of life. Like laughing at a bad joke Billy would tell him, or having fun reading to the kids at the orphanage down the street. Feeling happy at the way Sherlock would look at him, feeling his heart warmed up when the man kissed, hugged or do as much as touch him. Being love, and more than that, being able to love him back. William liked that, and he would do whatever it takes to make things stay that way.  That meant he had to learn how to live with these thoughts. And so he did. 

Now sitting in the leaving room of his family new house, Louis by his side and John Watson on the other. The three of them were looking at the table in the corner of the room, where Moran and Sherlock wore playing cards, with Fred standing by Moran’s side, probably ready to stop him in case the colonel decided to kill the detective. The game had started with more people, but as time passed, only the two remained, much because Moran couldn’t really get his head around the fact that he had lost every single match to Sherlock. 

“This is impossible” He said, in his loud usual voice, Fred holding his shoulders down “You're cheating” 

“You know I’m not, mate” Sherlock smirk, that devil like face of his provoking Sebastian even more “I’m actually getting tired of winning, but I honestly don't think you would like me to hand it to you” 

Moran grunted loudly, “No. I’ll win fair and square”

“Maybe tomorrow you will, Sebastian, but It's already late, and you've trapped us here for more than half of the night” James said, from the chair he was sitting in the opposite side of the room, Moneypenny and Mrs Hudson close to him “If you don't drop, ill fetch Albert from wherever he wandered off to and tell him to deal with you”

“Like in India” Fred agreed 

“You would never” Moran narrow his eyes at James. 

James smirked, getting up, “Wanna bet?” 

“Nop!” Sebastian got up, leaving the cards on the table and looking at Sherlock “Tomorrow, Holmes, just you wait” 

Sherlock also got up, taking a cigarette out of his pocked and looking around to find a place where he could go and smoke it “Uhm, mate, I’ll  probably stay the whole night thinking about that, don't worry” He said as he walked to the balcony close to where he was. 

William laughed softly at that, covering his mouth with his hand. He loved this.

Louis sighed by his side, but he also looked amused, “They look like kids” 

“Oh, Sherlock can be a pain when he wants. I don't blame mister Moran” John said. He continued to tell Louis about a time when Sherlock got into a fight with a noble at a party because he won all the matches and made it look, on purpose, that he was in fact cheating. Fred had come to sit with them, beside Louis. His brother started to say something as well, involving Albert and a lot of wine, a story that probably wasn’t new to William. 

He wasn’t paying much attention to what they were saying, instead, he was looking at the place Sherlock had just disappeared to, in the balcony, lost in thoughts. 

“You wanna go to him?” William was pull back from his contemplation by Louis’s question. He looked at his brother, who was smiling,  “I know you two haven’t seen each other in a while, from what I gather of the story you told us early” 

John agreed by his side, “We’ve also trapped you here with us the whole night, sorry about that. I liked to hear the things you had to say about the time you had with him” The doctor said, looking almost shy. 

William smiled, at both of them, “It's okay, doctor Watson. I understand that you must have missed him terribly, I don't mind at all sharing that with you. You did not trap me at all, none of you did it” He looked deep into his brother's eyes “But, I would like to speak with him, yes” 

He said as he got up from the place he was sitting, looking back at the three man in the couch “If you see Albert, tell him to go look for me later. I know he probably had a lot to converse with Mr Holmes, but I also missed him” 

John and Fred laughed, but Louis looked bother “I can't believe I lost both of you to them, honestly” He said as he got up. 

William knew it was a joke, but even so, he toked his brother's hands in his, smiling at him, a truthful and loving smile “You did not lose us, dear bother. On the contrary, we just found each other again, don't you worry” 

Louis smiled at him, his eyes almost watering, “Yes, brother, I know. Now, go talk to your detective before he smokes all that pack of cigarettes” 

The older blonde let go of his hands, chuckling. He said his goodbyes to Dr Watson and Fred, watching as the latter and his brother went to the kitchen, after Louis said he had to clean everything today, or he wouldn’t be able to sleep. As for John, he sits next to Mrs Hudson, looking to understand what the three of them were laughing about before he got there. 

William did not know where Billy was, but he could worry about the boy later. Now, he walked to the balcony, opening and closing the door behind after getting in. Sherlock was leaning over the railing, smoking, judging by the bits in the ground next to his feet, his second cigarette. 

“Isn’t that a bit too much, hum?” William asked, leaning on the railing on his back, “Thought you said you would stop”

“I did, but these last mouth were kind of tough, sorry”

“You don't need to apologize, Sherly” William looked at him, meeting with sapphire eyes “You were the one who decided to stop, it is your choice to decide when you do it”

Sherlock smiled back at him, that beautiful, loving smile William had missed so much “Well, I won’t have to smoke any more these days” 

“Hum?” William said, a smirk showing on his face, “And why is that?” 

“Well, ‘cause I got my antidote back” He said as he put his hand in William’s thin waist, making the blonde laugh and put his hands around the other’s neck.

“That's so tacky, Sherlock, even for you. The time in France turn you into a cliché, hum?” 

“Maybe” The dark haired man said, pulling him close, “Or maybe I just missed you so much that my head is not functioning the right way any longer” 

“That could be it, alright” William rested his head on Sherlock’s shoulder, breathing in his scent. 

It was weird, loving someone else’s smell. Especially if that someone was Sherlock Holmes. The man smelled like French cigars and woody cologne. It was better than the cheap cigarettes and chemical products scent he had three years ago. But that the thing was, William loved that old smell, the same way he loves the new one. It wasn’t about the brand of the cigars he smoked, or the fact that he didn't have a chemical dependency any more. 

It was because hugging him, burring his nose in the crock of his neck and inhaling his scent meant he was together with him again, after months of residual scents, months of sleeping alone in a bed made for two, of waking up in the morning to a quiet house and not a hint of a breakfast being made in the kitchen. God, William missed him so much. 

“I missed you so much” Sherlock voiced his feelings “So goddamn much, I thought I was going to die sometimes” William chuckle at that

“Dramatic as always” Said the blonde, but he felt like crying, “I missed you, too, Sherly” 

Sherlock pulled away just enough to be able to look him in the eye, placing his hand on his face and running his thumb over his cheek, “You’re even more beautiful than when I left you, how is that humanly possible?” William chuckled again, leaning in the touch 

“You’re not so bad yourself, your hair is even longer” The blonde said as he let his hands take a strand of Sherlock's hair, winding it around his fingers.

Sherlock pulled his chin up, making him look in his eyes, and came closer. He starts kissing his nose, and then his eye, lingering close to his mouth. Brat, just kiss me already. 

Sherlock, oh ever so knowing Sherlock , did kiss him. 

He realized, long ago, that Sherlock wasn’t going to leave him. No matter how much he tried to push him away, no matter how much William tried to show him he was not worth his time, his love. All that just serve to make Sherlock want to stay even more. He didn't care if William's life and head were a mess, he didn’t mind not heaving the kind of peace normal people usually looked for so assiduously.

William still had that dream sometimes. Only this time, when he fell to his knees, crying and trying to scream, strong and firm hands would catch him before he hit the ground. Sherlock would put him in his feet, look at him with that ever so loving eyes, and he would smile. William could feel the ground beneath him became more solid. Long and strong ivies curling around the bridge's glassware, from below and from the sides. 

And this was it, this was his epiphany. This was the end to that nightmare, he could walk to the path in front of him, where Sherlock extend his hand to and where William could see his family waiting for him, like all the times before. He didn’t have to be afraid any more, he wasn’t going to fall. He takes one last look to his side, where Sherlock stood, winking at him like that time in the train, when he told him he wanted him to be that sharp criminal . But this time, he only wanted him to be happy, is all he's ever wanted. And William owed him that much.

The dark thoughts, the stain of blood in his heart, would always be around the corner. He couldn’t give him much, couldn’t give him normalcy. But Sherlock could find joy in the most bizarre things. So maybe the little sparks of sunshine, the best William could manage to give before the rain came pouring in, maybe, just maybe, that would be enough. 

“Hum, no, this is enough” William thought as he felt Sherlock squeeze him harder against the railing. 

He pulled away from the other man, resting his hands in his chest, smiling breathless. Sherlock kept his eyes close, pressing their foreheads together, shivering from the wind that blow in the cold night. 

William took one of his hands, pulling him in the direction of the door.

“Come on, it’s getting late. I’ll keep you warm tonight”