Work Text:
Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently and stretched his neck in a circle, arms crossed at his chest.
“Come on, Liam... we’re gonna miss it if ya don’t hurry!” He checked the clock and then the window as if he was expecting something. William simply ignored his pleading with a straight face. The raven man had been adamant about going out tonight for the past few days but never said exactly what it was that he had planned, which made William worry a little. The ex-detective was always full of surprises, be it pulling out William’s entire library to recite a poem or coming home with an injury and playing it off like it was nothing.
"Patience, Sherly. Its late and will be cold outside. Naturally, I want to bring something warm. Unless you expect me to freeze for your little activities?”
The man bit his cheek as he searched for something to wear. It should be here somewhere. Sherlock eyed the blonde before sighing with a nod. He then walked over to the chair by the desk and picked up Williams favourite shawl. He held it to his partner with a lopsided grin.
“Looking for this, Liam? Despite being the smartest man I know... you sure can be a scatterbrain.”
The blond simply nodded as he took the cloth from Sherlock. Rolling his eyes, he gave a smile.
“Says the man who can’t keep his only room in the house clean. When was the last time you even opened your curtains? You know, to let some light in?”
Sherlock’s grin falters as he retracts his hand to scratch the back of his head in a as if to say “you know how it is”. Its true, William did understand. However, it was miles better to tease the man opposite him than give him the satisfaction of getting away with his habits. He folded and then wrapped the shawl around his shoulders before taking the detective’s hand.
“Shall we be off then? What does my dear detective have planned for me?”
Sherlock did not hesitate in the slightest, immediately grasping firm and guiding William out of the cottage, down towards the lake. Thankfully the night was not too cold. The blond was glad he only bought one extra layer with him as anything more may surprisingly cause him to overheat. He watched Sherlock, eyes falling to the hand keeping William by his side. It was as if he were afraid to let go and risk losing the blond in the darkness. Liam neglected to listen to whatever the man was saying after this realisation until he was suddenly ripped from his thoughts when Sherlock stopped walking.
“Is the Lord of Crime distracted?”
Sherly grinned as he usually does around William, though there was a sense of concern in his expression. It was hard to see in the dark but luckily it was a clear night and William had a sharp eye.
“I promise you, Liam, this will be worth it. Trust my word as a detective!”
He picked up the pace and before long the two were out of the trees and on the edge of lake, gentle footsteps switching to a crush of pebbles beneath their feet. The lakeside was pitch black but the water surface reflected the sky like a giant mirror, causing it to sparkle like the stars above. It being a moonless night made the stars shine even brighter than usual. They stood for a while, long enough to earn some frustrated twitches from Sherlock. Yet just as he was about to decide to go back home, a light streaked across the lake. Then another. Then a third. The detective’s grin returned and his gaze excitedly switched his comrade, who was stood there in awe. It was a meteor shower. Before leaving England, the man had never really been able to experience such a phenomenon. Work often got in the way and when he was free, the classic English weather took charge. It was quite the isolating experience. He turned his eyes upwards, shooting stars illuminating his face much like they did the lake. His lips were curved into a smile. He knew all shooting stars were was a bunch of rocks falling to earth, burning up in the atmosphere. Sherlock most definitely knew that too. But the fact he had made the effort to plan such an outing warmed the man’s heart. A certain grip on his hand pulled him back to the present, reminding him that he wasn’t truly isolated anymore. He was beside a man that truly cared for him as much as he did for them. Sherlock turned to the professor, moving his free hand up to the blond’s cheek. Calculating where the man’s lips were in the darkness, the detective gave him a gentle kiss. He whispered as he pulled away.
“Happy birthday, Liam.”
“Oh, Sherly. You know my birthday isn't until tomorrow.”
“Doesn't matter. It’s close enough to count. Where's the rule that you only have to celebrate on the day of your birth? I think the day before and the day after should be celebrated too. Especially for you, Liam.”
The couple may be relatively equal but sometimes even William could never get past Sherlock’s logic. It was fuelled with a sort of childish competitiveness that he simply didn’t have. Giving into his partner’s antics for the thousandth time, he smiled in the dim light. Returning his birthday kiss, the blond made a promise. Even though there was nobody else around, he kept his voice hushed like it was a sacred secret.
“I guess I’ll just have to return the favour next year.”
The two sat on the pier to watch the stars fall. Being on the edge of the platform made it seem as if they were in the sky itself, surrounded by both light and darkness in perfect harmony. Liam's shawl, his birthday present from last year, was wrapped around the both of them. Touching the uneven surface reminded him of how he found out Sherlock had been contacting Albert about crochet, catching him in the act of making some prototypes when he came home early one day. As he reminisced, he began to drift off. Anchoring himself to Sherlock by intertwining their fingers, the other man got the message and whispered a "goodnight". After about five minutes, he gently picked the sleeping man up and made the ever so slightly perilous journey back home in the dark.
Sunlight poured through the curtains waking up the ex-Crime Lord. He snuggled back into his pillow with a huff. Pillow? Last he knew he was sitting on a rock-hard set of wooden planks, not laying on his mattress, under his covers. He rubbed his eyes and decided Sherlock must have taken him home after he had fallen asleep, carried him all the way home from the lake in the dark. As if on cue the raven-haired man appeared in the doorway, his initially flat expression suddenly switching to his classic ‘Its Liam!’ grin as he walked over, a tray - housing a teapot and some cups - in hand.
“Mornin’ Liam. Sleep well?”
He set the tray down before falling onto the bed, head into William’s lap. The blonde’s hand naturally found itself in those dark locks as they often sat like this. Sherlock was quite the clingy man but William didn’t mind it in the slightest.
“Thank you again, Sherly. That might have been the most magical gift of person’s ever given me. I mean it.”
He smiled down at the man in his lap with such a genuine expression, Sherlock thought he looked like an angel. In the past, Liam claimed himself to be a devil. But weren’t devils also angels once? In the detective’s eyes, William might as well have been God Himself. He reached up and pulled William in for a kiss.
They never did end up drinking that tea.