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Scotland was surprisingly warm at this time of year compared to England, Sherlock thought as the carriage rattled along long, winding roads.
The first buds of spring were emerging as it was early May, and the fresh green grass was emerging from its long winter hibernation.
The scenery was beautiful where they were headed. Rolling green hills surrounded them on every side, the countryside stretching out for miles.
Even now, as it began to head towards the evening, the sun starting to paint the sky a multitude of colours, Sherlock could still make out the faint outlines of mountains and sheep.
They'd come through the port at Liverpool, down from Norway where their previous assignment had taken them.
It was strange to be back in England after so long away, but they were only there for a short while (a day and a half) as the carriage that had been arranged for them meandered through the middle, and then north, of the country. It was strange to not be going down to London, and instead just passing through.
It would take them some time more to get to Edinburgh, where their next mission was meant to take place, investigating a corrupt faction within a shipping company that was skimming goods off the top and reselling them to other countries.
But for now, there they were. In the carriage. In the countryside.
As the sun began to set, the carriage started to head towards a small town. The carriage arrived at a small cottage. Sherlock and William took that as their sign and got out of the carriage, each carrying their respective small bags with only their most important possessions in them.
The two of them looked up at the cottage. Wisteria wound around the gutters on the roof. Red brick surrounded the windows, with the rest of the house being a cream on the exterior. Sherlock turned to the driver.
"What time tomorrow will we be continuing on?" The driver hummed for a moment. "Around nine I'd say. Long enough to allow the horses to rest and recover before continuing onwards." Sherlock nodded and turned back towards the house.
"Where are we?" William inquired towards the driver. "Warwick, sir." William nodded, finding the location on his mental map. "Ah. And…might we have a key for the accommodation?" he added, seeing Sherlock unable to open the door. The driver quickly removed a small silver coloured key from his coat pocket and passed it down to William.
The blond thanked him politely, unlocking the door with a look at Sherlock. The dark haired man rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
The interior was warm, with royal blue wallpaper. William nodded approvingly. "I suspect that the United States government has ensured that this is the most fortified, and beautiful, cottage in the country."
Sherlock snorted as he scraped the mud off his shoes at the mat just on the inside. "Do you ever wonder how much they spend on things like this?" William smiled and shook his head. "Ours is not to question why, ours is but to do or die."
Sherlock grinned as he shrugged off his coat. "Riffing off Tennyson, I see. Impressive, Liam." The two of them explored a little more around the house. There was a small kitchen stocked with enough food for a day or so, a non issue for them, as well as two bedrooms and a bathroom.
"You know," Sherlock said as he started to pull ingredients out from around the kitchen to make a small dinner. "In Scotland you can get married in three weeks. There was a case that I was investigating back in London where a daughter had gone missing, and her mother was frantically trying to find her. I eventually tracked her down to just over the border. She'd gotten married to her childhood sweetheart."
William smiled as he stepped forward to help start cooking, rolling up his sleeves to chop the carrots that Sherlock had put out. "That's quite sweet, actually. I'm assuming that the parents disapproved of the marriage?"
Sherlock nodded. "Oh, most certainly. It wasn't as drastic as a member of the gentry marrying a fishmonger, but it was still a shock." He paused, reminiscing on the case. "The couple actually came back to London, after a few months. They were settled and happy."
He slyly turned to William. "You know…we're meant to be in Scotland for a month and a half." William looked up from where he was cutting the carrots and put the knife down. "Sherlock. We can't legally get married."
Sherlock sighed dramatically and slid the cutting board over to cook the carrots, along with the other food he'd been preparing. "So narrow minded, Liam. We could be anyone. I could pretend to be a woman. You could pretend to be a woman. We could both pretend to be women!"
William rolled his eyes as he sat down at the small dining table to watch Sherlock cook. The man was still reluctant to let him properly be in the kitchen, especially when there was an open flame around.
"That wouldn't work and you know it," he snorted as he watched Sherlock stir the small bits of chicken breast in the pan he was using to brown them. "Such a pessimist, William. Say, when we came in I spotted the wine cabinet. Would you do me a favour and go have a look for one with a recent year?"
William nodded and walked over to the oak cabinet, speaking as he looked through the bottles. "I know that Scotland, especially Gretna Green, is a hub for this sort of thing." He selected two bottles, one nice and one less nice and brought them back over to Sherlock. The dark haired man turned the flame down as he popped the corks on both.
"I don't think we have wine glasses," he commented as he poured the wine into the pan to deglaze the chicken. William shrugged as he looked through the cabinets in the kitchen for glasses. "I know. We'll just have to make do with what we have."
Finding two vaguely wine shaped glasses, William picked up the nice wine and poured two glasses - one for himself, and one for Sherlock. "I'm surprised that wine of this caliber is even stocked here." He took a sip of the wine and hummed, checking the label. "Yes, Albert used to drink this. One of the ones he liked more than average, I seem to recall."
Sherlock began to plate up the food, serving it onto two plates that he found in a drawer. William looked down at it with a slightly shocked look on his face. "My, Mr Holmes. I didn't realise that you knew how to cook so well."
Sherlock grabbed knives and forks from another drawer, setting them down next to each of the plates. "I lived alone after I graduated, you know. Ms Hudson hasn't always been my landlady."
William nodded and raised his wine glass. "To a delicious meal, cooked by a shockingly competent cook." Sherlock scoffed but clinked his glass against William's. "To our last assignment before returning home. May it go without fuss."
The meal was quiet, interrupted only by the clinking of cutlery and the occasional sip of wine. The room was peaceful, calm, tinged only by the tiredness travelling caused starting to creep in at the edges. After the meal was done, Sherlock collected the plates and started to wash them up. William stood up as well, grabbing a cloth to help dry them up.
The sound of running water provided a pleasant backdrop as the two of them moved around the kitchen together. There was something blissful in the domesticity of it all, even though they were technically on the job.
The intimacy of being so close and doing something so simple was something that neither of them had really been able to experience since they left America after William recovered.
The silence shifted as the two of them finished tidying up and moved to the small living room. William left briefly; Sherlock could hear him rummaging around in his case. He emerged shortly after with a small paperback.
Sherlock raised an eyebrow, more out of curiosity than anything else. William tilted the cover of the book up towards him so he could read the title. Carmilla, it read. "Is it good?" Sherlock asked quietly in an attempt to not disrupt the peaceful silence that the room had.
William nodded. "You can read it when I'm done with it." Sherlock hummed quietly. "That sounds nice", he said softly.
The night stretched out before them as William read and Sherlock stared into space, mulling over both the facts of the case and whatever thoughts popped into his head.
"Liam," he said suddenly. William looked up from his book, noting the page number and closing it. "Yes, Sherly?" he inquired.
Sherlock walked across the room and knelt down on one knee in front of him. William cracked a smile. "Sherlock, what's this-"
A small gold ring was presented to William, making his breath catch in his throat. "I was going to give this to you after the assignment. But…I really couldn't help myself." Sherlock said with a smile. "I want this to be forever, Liam. I want it to be us."
The blond looked at the ring for a long moment, before raising his gaze to look Sherlock in the eyes. "You know we can't legally be recognised under the law," he said. "And if anyone found out about it, we'd be run out of society."
Sherlock snorted. "And since when has a little danger ever stopped us? Besides, I've been wearing my skull ring for years now, and no one has ever said anything about that." William fixed him with a look. "That's clearly not a wedding ring though. This is."
"Is the fact that it's a wedding ring a problem?" Sherlock asked. William shook his head. "No, of course not. I'm just…concerned about what may be thought." "More like you'll be concerned when we return to London that your brothers and associates will be asking questions."
William stopped for a second and then nodded. "I really cannot get anything past you, can I?" he said with a smile. "Yes. I'm…trepidacious about what they may think. Not the fact that I'm with a man, though."
Sherlock stared at him for a moment. "Wait…me! I'm the problem here?" William laughed softly. "I'm simply saying that there may be more questions than I can provide with answers if I were to return with your ring on my finger."
William's gaze shifted to the ring once more. "But if we focus on it just being us, then yes. I would like to marry you, Sherlock Holmes. I'd like that very much." Sherlock looked at him with a slightly surprised expression, and then gently, reverently, slid the ring onto William's ring finger.
The two of them observed the ring in the dim light for a long moment. William watched it admiringly, Sherlock much of the same. "I suppose one for you will need to be gotten as well," William said.
Sherlock grinned. "I think that that would suit me very much, William Moriarty."
The two sat there for a while, quietly talking, Sherlock resting on the floor up against William's leg. When the clock tolled eleven however, William yawned and stretched.
Sherlock stood up, helping William up with an outstretched hand. "Time for bed, I believe. A shower would be nice though first." William nodded. "And we'll share the bed?" Sherlock rolled his eyes at the blond's question. "Of course we'll share the bed, Liam."
The blond hummed, satisfied. He laughed a little to himself as Sherlock got his change of clothes from his travelling bag and headed into the bathroom. "What's so funny?" Sherlock asked, poking his head out.
"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just pleased you got my ring size so perfect." "Naturally, naturally," Sherlock called out as he ducked back inside.
"Don't take too long, Sherly. The sooner we're done, the sooner we can go to bed."
"I'll be as fast as I can, Liam. Don't worry."