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The streets of east London that year were bad, there has been no improvement let alone development there. Prostitutes and dirty workers are scattered, and the poor are still gathering, begging, and committing other crimes. There is no law against them. They are so free even in distress and insecurity. Do whatever they want because there is no attention, but if caught they will be judged harshly.
Everything happens regardless of age. You are old and you are young, the punishment is the same. Women and men are no different. When you are among the weak, then you must try not to be oppressed. From a young age, they are taught strength. The stronger you are, the safer you are. Don't trust other people even if it's your family.
Only one applies, kill or be killed.
Talking tragically with the dark side of life, some luxuries stand in the way. Gold and diamonds blind others from paying attention to them.
The paths offered to them are very different, even though they are both human children who do not know anything. Born to breathe and enjoy the world but in fact obstacles and difficulties stand in their way, at least for one of them.
The painting of lilies that is starting to fade has not lost its charm at all. Paint strokes and drawings convey a deep meaning from their creator. Even the child who was looking at the masterpiece in a puddle of mud understood what the person was trying to convey. A book accompanies him, he spends time and does not feel the afternoon reveals its form.
The book was closed, and the boy stood cleaning his clothes only torn and too small, trying to look 'tidy' so his sister wouldn't get suspicious. Luckily at that time, his bruises were on the back of his sleeves, not on his face.
The smell of bread and food from the restaurant made his stomach growl. Wanted to buy a heart to give to his brother but realized that his shilling coins had to be given to more important things.
A rather shabby old building appeared in his view. A few steps and a rusty iron railing he grabbed and pushed. The fairly large front yard was deserted and the lights in the center had been turned on. The noise was heard from the direction of the dining table where the orphanage children had gathered and were enjoying their dinner.
"Brother where have you been? It's eight o'clock and just got home. I'm worried about you, afraid that something will happen again like a few weeks ago. Are you okay? No injuries or pain?" His brother's chatter reaped a low chuckle from him.
"I'm fine, see there is nothing strange on my body?"
His brother's eyes narrowed. There was a tickling feeling, in an unpleasant sense, but seeing his brother's smile couldn't help but agree with it. "If you say so. Now put down the bag and we'll eat together."
The hand that ruffled the hair and gave a soft nod before joining the others.
They prayed and ate half the bread with a glass of milk mixed with water. All are in trouble but their smiles never fade, nor does their endless chatter full of joy. Very typical of children who do not know how sour and bitter the world they live in.
The brothers ate in silence, watching reminiscing as they didn't have to think of a way to continue breathing.
After all, the past is past, and they now have to think about their next move.
***
A large mansion covered in heavy rain. The plush room full of scattered toys and books looks darker not only with no lighting but with an expression on the owner of the room.
The little boy, a boy of about six to seven years old, groaned as he buried his head in his bent knees. The thick blanket covered his entire body except for his head. He just stood still for almost two hours.
Cramps? Certain. But his heart wasn't calm, a reason why he became this quiet.
Sherlock, just stepped out of his comfort zone today. Out of the scope of books and adventures in the forest behind their house. Leaving for a moment his love of chemicals and the like. Step forward to find the most supportive aspects of his life.
Social, and human.
Sherlock himself is not a person who likes to socialize. According to him, it is enough to observe and analyze then everything is clear to him.
At that time Sherlock came out quietly from the high fence that blocked him into the outside world he had never seen before. The streets were crowded and the hot steam and blaring screams were a little scary, but it wasn't Sherlock when he backed off. Five minutes of travel will not produce anything he thought.
The more he explores the more interesting things he gets. This is what makes him feel at home, making him adrenaline to continue his steps.
There were several kids his age running around, but none of them were wearing the same clothes as him, or the ones he remembered coming to his parents' colleague's party.
Their faces were dirty with dust, their clothes must have been torn or too small. One thing that puzzled sherlock the most was that their faces were shinier than anyone he knew.
The kids were running, some had a chance to talk to him before his friend grabbed him and said they should stay away from Sherlock. It was vaguely heard that bad things always came when they were close to the nobles, and Sherlock was a little taken aback by that.
His feet went further. This time the more slum areas he found. Adults sat on the side of the road without noticing that next to them was a pile of garbage. Some stretched out their hands, begging without realizing that no one was passing by on the street. Sherlock wanted to give charity, what could he have brought with him nothing but himself.
The trip was fun for Sherlock. There was a lot of information he still had to process, but at least he had gathered what he was looking for. The setting sun was a sign he needed to get back before his housemates realized he was missing.
It's a shame that Sherlock forgot the path he took.
"Ouch, why my brain doesn't want to remember now? I will be lectured by that wrinkled Brother of mine." Not giving up, Sherlock steeled his resolve to find a way out on his own.
Right, left, into the alley, out onto the highway, Sherlock hasn't been able to find her way home or just a familiar sight in her eyes. There were only old buildings and bushes as he passed, fewer and rarer people were passing by.
The sky was getting darker and Sherlock didn't like how he was now. "If only there was one," he was cut off when the corner of his sharp eyes caught the large, rather dull, age-old painting on the brick wall behind him.
It was only as Sherlock approached that the reflection of the light hit right at the faded lily petals there. Some were covered in moss and the paint melted from the heat and rain. What's interesting is that in the surrounding soil there are many lily buds, they haven't bloomed yet because they're not in season.
His memory immediately recalled the vines that were around his house, there was even his mother's lily garden in their greenhouse.
Armed with desperation and following his instincts, Sherlock decided to follow the flower path. Fifteen minutes later, the rows of walls and garden lights he knew so well greeted him.
Sherlock couldn't help but smile, running around until he arrived at the magnificent building he knew as his home.
"Finally..!"
It didn't take long for Sherlock to enter, looking around to make sure no one was intercepting him. Running into his room and getting ready for dinner, there happened to be ten minutes before their family gathering.
As Sherlock was getting ready, the painting came back to him. An image that is not so clear anymore but holds a unique beauty, attracts her, even everyone, to stare at her for a long time and praise her. The painter, whoever it was, Sherlock believed he was a person with strong motivation and identity, with big hopes that he was eager to achieve.
"Lily, I hope the flower can grow and bloom beautifully."
***
19 Years Later, New York
Mornings in the big city are never quiet. There's been a lot of laughter and retorts. Don't forget that under their apartment is a pizza shop, the noisier they are in the bright morning.
Both are fine, occasionally changing how the morning starts isn't a bad thing. And even though three years had passed, they still hadn't gotten tired of this new thing.
"How's the coffee, Liam?" The serious, tense look in his eyes waiting for his answer was a little laughable to William.
The smile that was slowly getting used to appearing on his face also never subsided especially for this savior of his. "As usual, very tasty Sherly. I think one day you can open your coffee shop."
"Not willing and not interested. If you asked me to open a clinic for criminals I might think again."
"And is the clinic going to sell?"
The two's conversation continued even when Billy, the little cowboy Sherlock was called, came and brought the mission file they had to complete.
While his hands were busy wiping the plate, his red bead accidentally saw the flower pot hanging on the window frame, deliberately left open to improve air circulation, according to Sherlock again.
"Who changed the decoration?" It turned out that the murmur reached the sharp ears of the other two people.
The big hand clumsily scratched the back of his head that didn't itch. "Is it bad? I know lilies are out of season, but when I saw a little kid selling them on the street I couldn't help but buy them."
Indeed, the petals haven't fully opened, nor have the leaves. But in William's eyes, the flower was far more beautiful than he had ever remembered.
"Let me move it—"
"No need Sherly, just leave it here. I'll take care of it until it blooms."
It's not strange if William said that. But what kind of lightness did Sherlock feel when he saw the sincere smile on those pale lips that tickled his heart.
"If you say so, just say so if you need anything."
"Don't worry, I know two or three things about how to care for flowers."
Because William, and Sherlock too, had been with lilies. It was their purity as children who endured this harsh world that saved them.
Just as Sherlock paved the way for William, so William led Sherlock. Two people who are entangled in the rod of fate lead them to the most fragrant bud that awaits them.
The journey of three years without realizing they passed. They share stories together. Embracing the past for the sake of looking to the future.
"Liam I'm going on a mission with Billy for a few weeks. Make sure you don't run around yet. I've got food ready too. Just tell your uncle and aunt downstairs if you need anything. Don't forget—"
"Yes, yes, ready to do Mr. Holmes. There you go, Billy will frown again if you stay here too long."
"I'm leaving first. I'll see you after this mission is over."
A wave of the hand ushered Sherlock and Billy off on their mission. "See you later. Be careful on the road."
And just as Sherlock does not know the future, so will William who will guess about what he should do to fix his gloomy past so that he can continue to be with his loved ones, until the future itself passes.