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It was 10 pm, and his presence in the room was not something unexpected, on the contrary, William would have been intrigued if he hadn't shown up soon. He hopes that Louis doesn't react badly when he realizes that Holmes is there, telling him would have implied his brother feeling a bit nervous despite carefully hiding it, and that is not something William wanted, but he knows he will let the information not affect him too much and will concentrate on the plan as he always does.
The weather outside is awful and the room isn't exactly pleasant, even colder than when he'd just entered despite the fire that was trying its best to keep it warm. Who knows? Maybe it was death waiting for someone to fall into its hands that night.
Both men kept their weapons pointed at their common enemy, the wind blowing against the window and giving the atmosphere a more sinister feeling. Unlike himself, Sherlock seemed somewhat anxious, he was in total control of his emotions, but he could still see it on his face; anticipation, doubt, justice.
He won't shoot . It was a statement in his head, something that he didn't even have to think long about to conclude that it would be so because nothing could indicate otherwise, after all, it was Sherlock Holmes he was talking about. That human being who seemed to be everything that he unconsciously sought his whole life, an equal, someone with whom words were not necessary but a simple look to know what happened in his mind and that made him feel understood for the first time. No justification was needed, Sherlock, the Sherlock, whom he had met in such an unusual way, would not be able to shoot an unarmed man even if he deserved a bullet through the skull.
But maybe that was what made him change his mind about him. Sherlock Holmes was a predictable man but not stupid, nothing can assure him that he didn't have the same thought of him and that he will ignore all his profile while he pulls the trigger. He will shoot , this time it was not a statement but a dubious theory that had nothing to back it up.
Even as Milverton continues to speak he is barely listening, his focus remains on the man next to him and the two options before him. William knows he won't arrest him, but that's the only thing he can be sure of, and for the first time since he can remember he feels like he's not in control here. As Milverton grew more nervous with every word Sherlock said afterward, he thought that no matter how hard he tried he wouldn't make it out of this room alive, either by his hand or Sherlock's.
He's probably wondering about his connection, and he has to admit that he would be confused as well to be in his situation. Just as he said: they are the light and the dark of London, social enemies, the sinner and the savior, and both knowing each other before their role in this game came to light was a move outside the rules.
Part of him was relieved when Sherlock was glad it was him, even if for different reasons than he had in mind.
He was honest when he said he didn't mind his name being in newspapers all over London, it was always part of the plan. Anyone willing to make sacrifices for big changes should also be willing to the consequences that he would have for that act, and he had already convinced himself that he was prepared for it. His brothers could tell otherwise after those nights they found him lost in thoughts at midnight that led to glassy eyes and dripping cheeks that they never really spoke about. Louis would make him some tea and stay there to listen knowing that he would refuse to speak. Albert would massage his shoulders for a while and then carry him to bed like a little boy hoping the pillow would take his mind off his restlessness, knowing deep down that it wouldn't be enough. He doesn't want to die . He is up for it, but the idea never ceased to scare him. He wants to be able to see how the country begins to flourish little by little, even if it takes him his whole life to wait for real change he wants to be able to see it, but that is not how the plan works, it is not how his existence works.
His focus returned to the scene in front of him, Milverton taking a step back and glancing sideways at the door that led to the balcony. He took a second of sneaking a look at the detective to confirm everything he thought at first; his eyes were full of determination and chin slightly lifted, his ring finger slipping on the trigger and his grip on the gun tightening a bit. He will definitely shoot , there was no doubt.
Ah, but it was certainly delightful. Sherlock Holmes had exceeded all his expectations, allowing himself to change only to not give him the pleasure of continuing to move in the palm of his hand.
Although he never really was, the only reason he could read the detective's mind was that he was naturally good, rational thoughts but with that obvious and unintentional whit of compassion. Still, if he was willing to get his hands dirty just for that, William couldn't look away, this man was worth it.
How many of his plans would he be able to mold to his liking if he acted the way he did now? He couldn't know.
And sadly, he can't indulge that whim any longer.
Milverton ran quickly to the balcony after opening the window, but he was only a step away from Sherlock, aiming and pulling the trigger while lowering the detective's arm took less time than the one Milverton used to try to save himself. A deadly bullet to the neck and another one on his back before the body fell and landed in the turbulent waters of the sea.
He turned expecting a gun pointing at him but the detective walked past him to go out onto the balcony and lean on the railing, looking conflicted with himself, still with his gun in his hand but barely holding it. His other hand ruffled his hair in annoyance as he grunted at the ground followed by a few insults that William didn't bother to listen to carefully.
"I must say I would have liked to see the ending you had in your head, Sherlock. However, I'm not condescending enough to let you show it to me."
Sherlock looked at him, his hands fisted, his knuckles white with the force he was exerting.
"It didn't have to be like this, Liam."
His stomach clenched. It wasn't the words that pierced through him like a lethal bullet to his heart, but the expression on the detective's face that made him weak. There was anger, but also frustration and disappointment at his failed plan.
He couldn't help but laugh. He's definitely going crazy, there's no way he's considering leaving everything behind again just to see what kind of entertainment and calm Sherlock Holmes will bring into his life, he's not selfish enough to waste so much work for this, not at this point of the game, not when there was no way to return.
"I have to disagree. This was precisely what was supposed to happen, the detective walking away with clean hands and the Lord of Crime successfully finishing another job."
"I was ready to do it!" He yelled, a frown resembling the older Holmes's face. He dropped the gun and pulled a cigarette from his jacket which he wasted no time putting in his mouth and lighting it. Honestly, William never understood the charm of tobacco, and despite smoking on certain occasions, he hated the smell that emanated, the same nauseating smell that flooded the streets of London full of selfish nobles consumed by arrogance.
"I know you were," I was watching you "But in my opinion, Sherlock..."
He moved closer, gloved hands holding each other's and slowly undressing them finger by finger until both gloves fell to the ground. Sherlock didn't stop him, and at the moment he didn't dare to look up to see his expression, instead keeping stroking the skin he seemed to be able to feel against his despite having his own gloves in the way, but it was enough. "I don't think red looks good on you."
He kissed the back of his hand cautiously, smiling slightly when there was no action against it.
"If this is to delay your brother from coming to kill me, stop. There are more ways you can keep me stuck here, so just..." He pulled his hands away from him awkwardly. William looked at him this time, but the detective was still looking at his hands "not like that."
And that was all it took for him to understand that he wasn't the only one with an issue here.
A rush of relief coursed through his body and he allowed himself to relax in his place at least until he remembered where they were. William didn't need a clock to know they didn't have much time left to leave because at any moment they would be surrounded by the police, and the escape would not be as discreet as he had planned. Either way, he wants to give himself a chance to be selfish for at least a minute, to stop planning anything in particular, and just take and take even more.
And apparently, red did look good on Sherlock, on his face at least.
He took the cigarette in his mouth and casually tossed it to the ground without even stepping on it, his mind too busy putting his arms around Sherlock's waist as he grabbed the railing and brought his face closer to the detective. Sherlock tensed, and his lips went still as he met them with his in a soft, almost non-existent touch.
He wants it, but he wants Sherlock to want it too. Because of that, he smirked when the detective's fingers brushed against his clothes when there was no movement on his part. He gripped his hands at the bottom of his neck, his fingers pressing lightly on his trapezius and holding him still.
"Don't think I'll stop trying to catch you after this, Liam."
William could not have expected less. That certainly was like a declaration in their own language.
Their lips met again but this time hungrily, both eager for the contact they had been deprived of for some time now, taking advantage of every second of it, after all, they don't know when they could do it again considering the circumstances in which they found themselves. The cold suddenly disappeared, the warmth of their bodies together being enough to put them in a meadow in summer instead of in the middle of a shivering wind with some leaves fluttering around them.
William was inexperienced, of course, he had kissed before, but nothing compared to the feeling that grew inside his chest, like a white lily blooming slowly but beautifully inside him.
Sherlock gladly chose to take the red fruit made from each of William's sins, savoring and enjoying it as together they leave the Garden of Eden, in a couple of seconds all existence apart from them is forgotten between heavy breaths and pounding hearts.
It took all of his control to break the kiss after what seemed like a beautiful eternity, but he still couldn't fully enjoy this man, not when he still had things to do for this country and needed to keep him away from him or at least show the world that someone was willing to 'save' them from the Lord of Crime.
Sherlock smiled stupidly, and William had to resist the urge to kiss him again right away.
"I-"
"I know, leave before I change my mind and arrest you." the detective said with a rather mocking tone. "Let's talk about this later, yeah?"
Later. William doesn't know if this 'later' will be something the two of them can have the way they hope, or if it will be the last time they see each other again, but he nodded and left the room quickly, Louis already waiting for him at the end of the hall.