Work Text:
Books and papers were strewn over the desk, a loose sheet fluttering in the wind from the nearby window. But since it did not escape and seek its freedom in some dark corner of the room, William did not pay it any attention.
He was currently working on a guidebook for the Pinkerton agency, Billy having finally worn him down enough to convince William to write one.
“Senior Ponytail is useless at that!” Billy had exclaimed, pleading eyes trained on an exasperated William.
Sherlock had taken offence to that, “Oi! I can write it if I want to!”
“Sherly, for all of your talents, I don’t believe you have the patience to write a book on how to execute various missions,” William had remarked, amusement and resignation overpowering his exasperation. “I understand, Billy. I will do my best to compile what I can.”
“Yay! Thanks, William!”
And that was why William was hunched over his desk, reading the first draft and marking a few revisions in some places. It was a rather tedious process; missions with his organization back in London had been crafted according to the situation but a guidebook would need generalized instructions.
Which was harder than making specific plans.
Still, it was something that occupied his mind and William could admit that he appreciated the work he was entrusted with.
Once he had finished his first readthrough of the draft, William sighed and set the papers down on the table. He looked up, gaze landing on the man currently occupying the small sofa in the office William had been given in the Pinkerton agency.
Sherlock was sprawled haphazardly across the piece of furniture, brow furrowed as he squinted at the paper he was nose-deep in. William was quite certain that he was scouring the newspaper for any information on his recent mission.
As if sensing eyes on him, Sherlock looked up, distracted blue eyes meeting crimson.
“You done, Liam?”
“Just the first draft,” William replied, hiding a smile behind his hand when he noticed the splotches of ink on the former detective’s face. “I thought it was a good place to stop, considering that it is quite late in the evening.”
Blinking owlishly, Sherlock cast a glance at the open window, surprised when he saw the sky painted in sunset orange. “Huh. Didn’t notice.”
“I could see that.”
“Oh, shut it. And why are you laughing?”
Giving up hiding his mirth as a lost cause, William pulled out his handkerchief from his pocket and held it out. “You have a few stains on your face, Sherly.”
“Thanks, Liam.” Sherlock took the offered cloth and scrubbed his face, inevitably rubbing the ink all over his face instead of wiping it off.
Amused, William got up from his chair and took the handkerchief, pouring some water on it from the glass on the table before gently wiping the ink-stained skin of his lover. “Hold still for me, please.”
Sherlock froze in place as ordered, absently noting the intimacy of William’s actions but ultimately ignoring it.
“Let’s go home if you’re done for the day, Liam,” he said once William had given him the all-clear. “If I see one more goddamned newspaper, I’m going to torch them all.”
“I doubt the agency will forgive you if you do that.”
“Don’t care. Now, come on!”
Walking through the streets of New York towards their home in a comfortable silence, William pondered at the sheer banality of it all.
Perceptive as he was, Sherlock immediately noticed his lover’s preoccupation and asked him about it.
“Hmm? Oh, I’m just wondering about how…mundane this is.”
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean?”
William took his time to answer that question, thinking over his words before voicing his thoughts.
“Back in England, the closest I could get to normality was being a mathematics professor. Even that could be called into question, since I was rather young.”
Sherlock snorted. “Some of your students were younger than you.”
“Well, yes, but back to my point. All of this…” William waved his hand in a vague gesture to encompass their situation, “is fairly normal, is it not? We work to repay our debts, eat and spend time together, sleep. It is a simple routine.”
William was right, Sherlock realized after a moment of thought.
“My days were filled with drugs, experiments, the occasional interesting case and drugs again to chase the heavy boredom,” he revealed with a shrug of his shoulders.
Sherlock’s life before encountering William was dull and grey, interspersed with fragments of life when something particularly interesting caught his attention. But even those were short-lived, and not one of them excited him as much as simply waking up to his lover’s face did.
Blushing slightly at the direction his thoughts had taken, Sherlock looked around and found very few people out on the streets. He shifted his hand to take William’s into his, intertwining their fingers.
“We’re not conventional lovers, but this much is fine, right?”
“I don’t think we were ever conventional,” William murmured in a pleased voice, shifting ever so slightly closer to Sherlock, hiding their joined hands between their bodies. “But I like this. I like waking up next to you, watching you make breakfast for me, doing chores and missions together, then going home for the day.”
William tilted his head back to look up at the rapidly darkening sky, single crimson eye glistening with unshed tears.
“It’s more than I ever hoped for.”
Squeezing their joined hands, Sherlock brushed his arm against William’s in a gesture of comfort. He was the same, having always thought his life would pass in a monochrome blur with only his few interests to keep him resembling somewhat human.
William might have said that Sherlock had brought colour into his world, but the opposite was true too.
Simply existing in the same space as the beautiful man he could call his, even if it was as simple as drinking coffee together or sharing a newspaper, it was enough to make Sherlock’s heart race.
“You are more than I ever hoped for,” Sherlock told William once the blond had managed to compose himself, chuckling when pink dusted his lover’s cheeks. “It’s always been the same for me, you know?”
Gaze warming with affection, William allowed his lips to curl into a soft smile.
“I know, Sherly.”
The two lovers smiled at each other and resumed their walk back home, not needing any exuberant declarations of love between them.
Their love language was in the little moments and their actions.
It was in the straightforward life William and Sherlock shared together, with no expectations or ambitions.
It was just them, in a small apartment that was filled with reminders of each other in every nook and corner.