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A quaint little cottage stood in the middle of grassy fields, a fair distance away from the town. It hardly ever saw visitors; the townspeople were quiet and polite, preferring to go about their business instead.
The cottage, though well-maintained and clearly owned by someone, was only occupied a scant handful of times a year. No one really knew who lived there, the few curious people giving up after the first few years of never spotting anyone through the windows.
That was why it was the perfect spot for anyone who wanted to get away from crowds and prying eyes.
But on that morning, if one had passed by the cottage, they would have seen a golden-haired man greet another dark-haired man on the doorstep, the two vanishing inside shortly after.
“Were your travels peaceful, Sherly?”
“Certainly no murders on the train,” Sherlock Holmes replied, laughing at the vague reminder of how William and Sherlock had solved a murder on a train years ago.
William smiled at his partner’s mirth, mismatched eyes softening the way they always did around Sherlock. He had foregone his eyepatch; he had nothing to hide and the injury had healed well, so he had no need to fear an infection.
Shifting on the couch as Sherlock sat down next to him, William said, “Ah, the usual monotony then.”
“Hmm. But I was excited to see you, so time passed quickly.”
Chuckling when Sherlock buried his face in the crook of his neck, acting like a child begging for attention rather than the adult he was, William teased his lover, “You saw me hardly a week ago, love. It hasn’t been that long.”
Sherlock clearly disagreed with that. “I want you around always, Liam.”
“You big baby,” William remarked with a fond smile, undoing his partner’s ponytail and running his fingers through the long dark strands. “You’ll survive a few days without me.”
“Doesn’t mean I like it.”
Sherlock lifted his head and sealed their lips together before William could think of a comeback. Sinking into the intimate contact with a delighted sigh, William tilted his head to deepen the kiss.
They broke apart after a few long moments, arms wrapped around each other as they settled on the cushions on the couch.
It had been a while since they had gotten any stretch of time alone, always in the company of one member of their family or the other.
That was why William and Sherlock had invested in the cottage, wanting to have a space that was solely for them whenever they wanted to take a short break. Walking the path of atonement was not easy, the two of them swamped with various sorts of work.
After a few moments of comfortable silence, Sherlock commented, “If James could see us now, they’d call us an old married couple.”
“They aren’t off the mark, though,” William pointed out with a faint smile, raising his left hand to cup Sherlock’s cheek. The ring on his finger glinted in the light from the window, an identical one resting around the ring finger of Sherlock’s hand that was holding onto William’s waist.
Sherlock snorted. “True, but they’d do it in front of Louis, which means I would have to run from him for the crime of stealing his precious brother.”
“Louis does like you, Sherly,” William said with a smile, but did not refute that Louis’ knee-jerk reaction would be to raise a knife against the former detective. “He simply prefers to intimidate you.”
Rolling his eyes, Sherlock got up and stretched, wincing when he felt his joints creak slightly. For a man in his mid-thirties, he was in good shape, but the adventures of his youth had taken a toll on him.
He studied William, who had chosen to remain on the couch, sipping the tea that had been forgotten earlier.
Time had been kind to him; William was as effortlessly beautiful as he had been at twenty-four. There was a gravity to his demeanour that gave away his true age but if he really wanted to, William could pass for a man in his early twenties.
“Sherly?”
“Nothing, just admiring your beauty,” Sherlock replied honestly, mildly disappointed when there was no blush in response to his flirting. “I think you’ll look like a young man until you’re on your deathbed, Liam.”
William laughed and shook his head, tilting his head back to look up at his partner. Blue eyes warm with unhidden affection gazed back at him, the faint lines around them giving their owner an air of sophistication that was endearing.
“I’m beginning to wonder if you proposed to me only for my looks, Sherly.”
“They’re a bonus,” came the prompt reply, accompanied by a wide smirk and a suggestive waggle of eyebrows.
To Sherlock’s delight, he managed to garner a faint blush, pink creeping over William’s cheeks as he coughed to hide his embarrassment.
“Perverted old man.”
“Hey! We’re the same age!”
“Were you not the one who first suggested that?”
“Wha-? I only said you looked younger!”
“That means you’re an old man.”
“Liam!”
William laughed and slid out of the way when Sherlock lunged at him, picking himself up from the couch and darting away, leading his partner on a merry chase through the cottage.
Years had passed since the two had first met, since their roles of Lord of Crime and detective, since the Final Problem where they had laid those titles down to rest and had started on the path of atonement.
Years had passed since William and Sherlock had laid themselves bare before each other, settling into their new lives in New York and then back in London, since Sherlock had stumbled through a clumsy proposal that had had both of them in tears.
Years had passed since they had bound themselves together in all aspects possible, surrounded by their family and loved ones as they had welcomed a new chapter in their lives.
Sherlock growled playfully as he finally caught William, pinning the slender man against the wall and claiming his unspoken prize. The kiss was broken by giggles and gasping breath, but neither minded, basking in the moment.
It was peaceful.
If one asked the townspeople about the little cottage near the outskirts, they would shrug and say they didn’t know much about the mysterious occupants.
But they would all agree that the house would be occasionally filled with warm and cheerful laughter, sometimes accompanied by music from a violin.
A few lucky people would even narrate the story about two charming men who were so at ease around each other, all loving smiles and content expressions.
The house might be lonely and cold sometimes, but its occupants were warmth and sunshine.