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Billy never thought he would have to watch that picture again. He stood at the entrance to the room and saw William, head bowed, sitting and looking at Sherlock. He had not woken up for hours. Antrim stood there not knowing what to say. This mission they were on in Queens was a big blow to them.
William sighed as he watched Sherlock's face turn golden and bright red from the setting sun. He wanted to shed at least one tear, but inside, in that moment, something seemed to crack. The man heard Billy come in and said dryly, "Did you talk to the doctors? What did they say?"
The guy just swallowed and, finally making his way to the room, closed the door behind him. Moriarty's chilling calm was even more frightening than it would have been if he'd gotten angry. He didn't understand what was on the other's mind.
"Well, it's too early to make a prognosis, but they said he's bound to recover. The bullet didn't hit any important organs, though Ponytail lost a lot of blood."
William sighed, and turning his head, continued to stare again without saying anything.
"Look, don't blame yourself, okay? No one expected them to have a sniper there, if I'd spotted him sooner I could have eliminated him! And those escaped bandits, the whole agency is now looking for them. So we'll be sure to punish them, and I realize that my words will probably look far-fetched, but Sherlock wouldn't want you to wear yourself out with guilt right now."
William didn't answer and only grew more gloomy. The morning they were going on this assignment looked so serene. When they both woke up, Sherlock went to the kitchen and brought him some delicious coffee, they exchanged kisses and even had time to fool around. They took their morning bath together. Neither of them knew that the day would end like this.
Now, more than anything, William felt the wind coming from the depths of his soul, where he had buried himself in the past. That wind didn't flutter his hair, didn't make his heart feel lighter. It lingered, calling with it. There was his grave. The grave of the Lord of Crime .
The last thing that struck was when he held Sherlock in his arms, the whistling of bullets and screams coming from him. Before William could turn around then, Holmes had already covered him with his body and taken the damn bullet.
Billy and the others arrived quickly, someone managed to escape, but Moriarty was worried about the detective's condition now.
"Sherly, hold on please!" he clasped the wound with both hands and watched Holmes squirm in pain and bleed from his mouth. William hesitated only for a moment, and it almost cost his lover his life.
"Gha! W-we'll be all right... Liam, I broke the plans... that bastard, to hurt you, ha-ha ghh..." blood gushed from his mouth again, making it hard to speak and he was breathing hard.
"Don't talk, you idiot! Don't waste your strength!" William stares in horror then at the wound then at Sherlock's face, the latter only smiling crookedly and touching someone else's cheek, losing the last of his strength.
His hands are as cold as ice, Liam freezes at this moment and looks into Holmes's eyes, he hears the latter barely whisper: "I love you... Sweetie."
His eyes instantly close and he faints. William feels Sherlock's warm blood rushing to his nose, that blood on his hands, he wants to shout something, or do something urgently, but he can't, everything inside is shaking with tension. He was at a loss.
"Ponytail! Hang on, help is near! William needs a tug on the wound right away, or he'll keep losing blood!" then Billy turns his head and yells: " We've got a wounded man! Hurry up and get over here!"
It all happened so fast that William didn't come to his senses until he was in the hospital. He kept looking at his soiled hands, which were still trembling. Moriarty didn't know what to feel or what to do. It was as if the ground had been knocked out from under him, and left to hang in that prostration forever.
Now, he could hear the ticking of the wall clock, and his thoughts were more orderly now that he was back in reality.
"I don't blame myself. And I don't intend to. So you have nothing to worry about," was another lie. Although he knows the American will obviously mind his own business, especially now.
His voice was so dry and colorless, like bare bushes in a vacant lot on a dry day.
William pondered the decision he would like to make. Sherly would certainly not like it, but there was no telling how much longer Pinkerton would search for these scumbags, surely they would find them and they would face the law, but it would certainly not be in the next few hours.
The wind from the darkness continued to whisper affectionate words. It was about time to look into his own crypt. This wind covered everything with ice and made me shudder every time it blew.
The sun was almost over the horizon, and the room was in a darkness that flickered violet here and there.
"Billy, I have a favor to ask of you. Please stay with him until I get back. Okay?" He frowned.
The guy also frowned and watched as William stood up and leaned over and kissed Sherlock on the lips quite weightlessly. He was used to the fact that their relationship, clearly crossed all conventional boundaries and norms, but he was fascinated by it.
"What about you? Where are you going? I'll stay, of course, but William..."
William smiled bitterly as he looked in his direction, and then his face became emotionless.
"There's still some business to finish," and he walked out of the room.
As the young man walked down the corridor, he noticed his own shadow growing, almost towering over him, from the light of the lamps. That's right, he can't eradicate that part of himself for good. Now the cold is blowing down his back, climbing up his neck and penetrating right under his clothes.
He's experienced it before, now he has to remember it again. He does it for Sherlock. It makes it easier to convince himself of the right moral compass, which is now wobbling as if he has lost all bearings.
On leaving the hospital, William decided that the criminals didn't have much choice about where to hide after this skirmish.
It was already quite dark outside, the lights illuminating the streets as best they could. He walked past the clothing store and stared at his reflection in the glass. For a moment he even imagined that his reflection had changed his face of its own free will.
Only later did he notice that a mannequin stood in front of him with a cloak very similar to the one he had worn in London. Soon William raised his face to the sky, and felt the raindrops, one by one, landing on his face.
Meanwhile, Billy continued to watch Sherlock and stay close, at least that was all he could do now. After a while, Holmes did frown and opened his eyes.
"Mmm... Billy? Khh..." he tries to get up a little, but a sharp pain somewhere in his abdomen prevents him from doing anything," where am I? And what... ?"
"Sherlock! Thank God you're awake. We're in a hospital in Queens, lie down, don't need to get up. You've been shot."
Sherlock reluctantly obeyed and sighed, remembering what had happened before, only later gritting his teeth to ask: "And Liam? Where is he?"
Billy lowered his head and sighed. "He left, about forty minutes ago. I'm sorry, I couldn't stop him."
He clutched the sheet tighter and stared wide-eyed at Antrim, "Shit! You had to, because he," the man tries to get back into a sitting position, but the sharp pain makes itself known immediately, "tsk... Gha... He'll try to do it himself!"
The guy is even confused, but then stands up abruptly and asks Sherlock to lie down again.
"Not with your injury, it's worth going anywhere now! I know I should have, but he wouldn't listen to me!"
"I'm afraid if I keep lying down and we don't do anything, it will be too late! And Liam will get his hands dirty in blood again!" Billy only looked at his partner with a heavy breath and realized that there was some truth in what he said.
William himself was already outside the old abandoned factory. His gaze was the same as it had been on those nights when he went to the crimes. Full of emptiness, and absent of any regrets or doubts.
He had already explored the area and could only hope that he would straighten it out as soon as possible and get back to the hospital.
Already ajar, that crypt in which stood an all-black coffin with blood dripping from it. Darkness was spreading around him swiftly.
Already he goes inside and in the first corridor he encounters four strong men.
Liam opens the coffin and there lies only burnt clothes covered in blood and a weapon in place of his own corpse.
William, on the other hand, fights in such a way that he doesn't give anyone a chance to fire a bullet earlier. There is a rumble, and swinging his sword, he kills one by one as he moves deeper in.
Going behind one of the nooks, there comes reinforcements, Moriarty takes a closer look, noticing the barrels at the end, and fires his pistol at them.
In the main of the hall, where the rest of the gang had gathered, several people continued to play cards until they heard an explosion. And afterward, the sounds of gunfire were heard.
"What the hell is going on in there?!" The blond-haired man is distracted from the game and snorts.
"Oh, relax, Frankie. Guys just got bored, they're just figuring things out again. Don't you know them?!"
After a while, everything suspiciously dies down.
The aforementioned "Frankie" continues to play again, until one of his subordinates runs into the room and tries to say something.
"Alex, care to explain, what you're doing in there?"
"I-it...ghha...ghaaa...khhhh" he drops dead abruptly, after the blade that was sticking in his chest comes out as well, and everyone sees William, who was wearing a cape and had enough blood on him to tell that he was the one who caused the commotion.
"You bastard!"
The men rose sharply from their seats and prepared to shoot, but it was too late.
Sherlock and Billy arrive at the factory half an hour later, and as they approach, Sherlock sees smoke billowing from the windows. It was clear that something had exploded.
"Bloody hell!" mumbles Holmes, and swiftly, in spite of the pain, goes inside ahead of his partner.
Billy tried to hold him back, but it was too useless, those two, someday they would drive him mad!
"Wait, this could be dangerous! We don't know how many people are inside. You're in no condition to fight yet."
"If Liam has been here, I'm afraid there's no one left to hurt us."
Soon they're inside, and as they make their way through the dark corridors, they stumble upon dead bodies.
Sherlock notes with annoyance that William certainly wasn't holding back as he struck. Blood was visible on the walls and that smell permeated the entire room.
The darkness and silence piqued the atmosphere and Billy and Sherlock moved on.
The next thing waiting for them was an explosion in the corridor, on the second floor, which also showed bodies that had been piled with debris.
"Ponytail...I'm sorry I couldn't do anything," Billy felt it was his fault that something like this had happened. If everything could be rewound like an old tape, they'd be sitting at home in Brooklyn right now, probably sipping tea or coffee and discussing various trivialities.
Sherlock sighs after they move deeper and there are more bodies around with each corridor they pass.
"It's not your fault, you don't have to pin all the dogs on yourself," though Sherlock was a hardy man, still fatigue was taking its toll. He hoped he had enough strength to get to William in time, if he was still here.
"I don't suppose the government will like all this?" he said as they approached the main hall.
"If they find out, of course they'll be upset, but there's still time to make it look like an accident. But I think that they are already aware of it."
Holmes only hummed, and opening the last doors before him and Billy there was William himself, who was sitting in lotus pose in front of the heap of corpses, covered with blood, and looking very depressed.
"Liam?!" Sherlock walks quickly over to him, though the wound is making itself felt again, and he hisses slightly, but that's not so important now.
Moriarty comes out of his trance at exactly the moment Sherlock appears and is almost running toward him.
"Sherly, what are you..." He doesn't have time to say the rest before he finds himself in his else's arms, and from the shock, he doesn't know where to put himself.
"Idiot! You are such an idiot, William James Moriarty!" Sherlock breathes deeply and feels his soul lighten.
Billy just stands there watching in silence, tears coming to his eyes all by themselves.
William hugs Sherlock back and sniffs his nose. They both had a rough night that night, but now, things should be better. He has eliminated those who could have done even more harm.
However, his heart was breaking again, already clinging to Sherlock he was sobbing profusely. He had stumbled, stained himself in blood again, fallen so low...
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry...I...I..." he fails to finish his sentence as convulsive sighs and screams burst from his throat again.
Sherlock won't let him go, he hurts, but it's nothing compared to what's been going on in his soul all the way here.
"It's okay, Liam. I'm here, it's over. You very scared me, don't you ever do that again!"
Having calmed down a little, William looked at Holmes so broken that Holmes's heart could hardly stand it, bleeding for the second time.
"Are you mad at me? Just tell me honestly."
Sherlock sighs and says, "No, but I'm really scared, you're still having a hard time with what happened in London. I don't want it to happen again, you know."
William nods and then feels Sherlock bump into his forehead. "Remember, Liam. I'm not going to let anyone separate us. So don't do anything else stupid. I love you very much, and I care about you. You're the dearest thing I've ever had."
Tears come to his eyes again, and he sighs convulsively. He notices how the shadow that was hovering over him, that was somewhere near him, has just dissolved.
Sherlock pulls back a little and smiles so brightly that William tries to smile with him. After which Holmes kisses him on the forehead. Which makes Will visibly blush.
"We've got to get out of here, some unwanted guests will be here soon, so we'd better get out of the scene early."
When they got up and went outside, it was already dawn outside and a warm wind was blowing.
Liam noted that he now felt as light as he had ever felt when he held Sherlock's hand. They still had a long conversation to have after this incident, but that was all right. The important thing was that this soft light, brought him out of the darkness again.