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For the first overseas mission that the two had been on together since they had returned to London from their time in New York, it wasn't shaping up to be too bad.
Sherlock and William had taken a boat from London to France, docking at Le Havre in Normandy, then taking a carriage (arranged for them by MI6) to Poitiers. A small town, by anyone's note, but that was far from the case.
MI6 had noticed a trafficking route, where dangerous drugs were ending up in England as well as other countries in mainland Europe, but were being distributed to all these places from Poitiers.
It was becoming an issue not just on a domestic scale for England, but also an international one. And so, who better than MI6's detective duo to go take a look at what was happening?
So the pair had been sent off to the French countryside to investigate, and act, on the issue. They had been tasked especially to not get into any sort of altercation, as flying under the radar was imperative to make sure that the drug traffickers weren't alerted to their presence in the area.
They were to simply watch and listen, while extracting information from any townsfolk that they could, relay it back to London, where the French authorities (directed gently along by MI6) would be provided with enough information to conduct a raid on the premises where the trafficking was being coordinated.
The only thing to do now was to actually get into the town.
They were dropped off at a small inn a ten minute walk from the center of the town in the late afternoon. It was a decent size, two floors in which guests could reside. They entered through the front door, which was adorned thickly with ivy, something that Sherlock thought was one of the most beautiful things a building like that could have.
William went up to the front desk to talk with the innkeeper (having learned French while at Eton) to see about their rooms.
Sherlock took the chance to look around the ground floor. He saw a small room through the door where the guests dined for breakfast and dinner - lunch was up to the visitors to get themselves.
The conversation between William and the innkeeper seemed to reach a conclusion as the woman handed over a key.
William walked back to Sherlock, picking up his small suitcase. "All good. Let's go upstairs and unpack, shall we?" Sherlock nodded, doing the same as they started to walk towards the staircase. "Why is there only one key?"
William shrugged as they made their way up to the first floor. "She said that we had a larger room. And I seem to remember Louis saying that the room we were going to get was more apartment style than a typical hotel room."
The pair walked along the corridor to the room at the end of the hall. William set down his suitcase, unlocking the door and stepping inside. He stopped just inside the door, Sherlock bumping into him as he stepped forward.
"Liam? What's the problem?"
Wordlessly, the blond stepped aside so Sherlock could see in.
Louis was right in that it was a larger room than normal. As you entered, there was a small seating area, complete with a comfortable looking couch and an ornate lampshade on a side table. To the back was a kitchenette, complete with hobs and an oven. An icebox was positioned in the corner of the room, in the shade, where it would be able to keep things at a cooler temperature if guests wanted to make their own dinner.
Sherlock also stopped in his tracks though when he looked to the other side of the room.
A small bathroom was situated in the opposite corner - Sherlock could see it through the slightly ajar door. It looked clean, no worries there. What made Sherlock freeze was the bed.
Bed, singular. Not beds, plural.
It wasn't like Sherlock and William hadn't shared a bed together before. While they were in America they'd lain together more than once in the small single bed in Sherlock's room, often either after a nightmare or after…nighttime activities.
But still. One bed? In a foreign country?
They hadn't even formally decided what they were yet!
Sherlock heard William behind him cough. "I'll go down to reception and see if they can get us two beds, rather than just one."
Sherlock nodded wordlessly as the blond retreated down the stairs behind him. He stepped further into the room, mind swirling.
In another life, in another time, he could see himself and William in an apartment like this. Perhaps in America, perhaps in London, perhaps somewhere else entirely. With one bed for the two of them.
Maybe Sherlock would be working for the police, or a detective agency, or somewhere else entirely. Maybe William would be teaching - as much as he would never admit it, Sherlock knew that the man enjoyed it. Not the feeling of having to mark people down, or discipline a class, quite the opposite in fact. William enjoyed seeing people succeed, especially younger children.
Sherlock loved that about him.
The sound of footsteps coming back upstairs caught his attention, taking Sherlock out of his thoughts. William looked slightly disgruntled, shaking his head as he walked along the corridor to Sherlock.
"What's the matter?" Sherlock asked. William sighed. "No other rooms of this style with twin beds. We're sharing the same one."
Sherlock shrugged as they moved into the room, closing the door behind them. "Is that the worst thing?" He asked, tilting his head to the side. "I mean, it's not the first time that we've shared a bed. Is it such a big deal, really?"
William looked away, throat bobbing up and down. "I suppose not." Sherlock looked at the clock on the wall. "We ate earlier, and it's past the time that they normally serve food here. Do you want to shower first, or should I?"
William shrugged, eyes still not meeting Sherlock's. "You can go first," he said after a moment, words practically being forced out of his mouth. Sherlock nodded. "Alright. I'll see you in a bit then?"
The blond nodded wordlessly, picking up his suitcase and starting to unpack. Sherlock grabbed his nightclothes out of his suitcase and made for the bathroom. As he rinsed himself off under the steam, Sherlock thought about how William was acting.
It seemed to be more than the blond was unsure of how to act in the situation, as opposed to disliking Sherlock. Well, that was obvious, the dark haired man thought. Of course William didn't dislike him. That was silly of him to think.
Though, he would be lying to himself if he said that William's actions didn't make him feel a little insecure in their relationship.
Stepping out of the shower, Sherlock toweled himself dry, getting into his pajamas. He looked at himself in the fogged up mirror, running a hand through his hair.
This would work out. This would be okay.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped back into the living room. William was perched on the bed, reading one of his essays on math theorems. Sherlock had tried to understand one that he'd left out once. He'd given up after fifteen minutes.
"Bathroom's free," he said, moving to sit over on the other side of the bed. William nodded stiffly, not taking his eyes off the text.
After a moment, he bookmarked his page, setting it down and sliding off the bed, picking up his pajamas and quickly making his way into the bathroom. Sherlock ran a hand over his face as he heard the spray turn on once more.
The blond was acting peculiar. Given the fact that Sherlock had, to not put too fine a point on it, been inside him, the dark haired man thought that William might have been a bit more amicable to simply sharing a bed together.
Perhaps William thought that if they shared a bed together Sherlock would want to be having sex with him all the time?
That thought stung a little, but Sherlock quickly banished it. Yes, it hurt that William thought that Sherlock would try to take advantage of him. But it was more pressing that William thought that Sherlock would do that at all.
In order to not lose himself in a cycle of panic, Sherlock opted to busy himself, unpacking what he'd brought (not very much), and rearranging the kitchen to be how they would both like it do - moving the teapot and kettle over to a more convenient position, moving the breadbox further in to where neither of them would knock it - small, minute things by anyone's account.
But to the two of them, it made a world of difference.
Sherlock found himself tensing ever so slightly as the sound of the water shut off. He knew that Liam liked to take his sweet time getting dried and dressed, but for once he wanted the man to move with a tad more alacrity. Being left to wait like this was putting him on edge.
After a few agonising minutes, the blond stepped out of the bathroom, Sherlock's breath catching in his throat.
William looked gorgeous.
His face was lightly flushed from the hot water, skin dewy from the steam. With his somewhat billowy white pajamas, Sherlock thought he looked somewhat like a nymph.
William was brushing his hair slowly as he sat back down on the bed. Sherlock cleared his throat awkwardly. "So…you'll take the right side, and I'll take the left?"
William coughed. "Yes, yes. That's fine." Stiffly, the blond laid down, intently resuming his reading. Sherlock didn't think that maths could be that interesting, but oh well. At least William was allowing himself to get comfortable, as opposed to simply standing like he was before.
Sherlock eased himself down beside the blond, sighing in contentment as his head hit the pillow.
For a spell, there was no sound in the room at all apart from the pair's breathing and the sound of William turning the pages of his book.
The lull was broken when William started to shuffle around uncomfortably. Sherlock turned his head, frowning slightly. "Liam? Is everything alright?"
The blond sighed. "I think I might go sleep on the couch. This isn't working." Sherlock sat up. "Okay, talk me through it. What's not working?"
William waved his hands around, gesturing at the bed. "Sleeping together in one bed." Sherlock paused. "Alright. How about this? You stay in bed, and I'll go sleep in the living room."
William shook his head. "No. The issue with sleeping is mine to deal with. You stay in bed." Sherlock folded his arms, looking down at the blond. "No, Liam. You're not sleeping on the couch. You're staying here. You already have enough issues with sleeping as is. And besides, sleeping on the couch will ruin your back."
William huffed. "Then you're not sleeping out there either."
Sherlock nodded. "Fine then."
The two resumed laying on the bed quietly. Sherlock closed his eyes, enjoying the presence of the blond next to him. The conversation that they'd had was weighing on him quite significantly though.
He rolled over onto his side, looking at William with half lidded eyes.
"Liam," Sherlock said softly, attracting his attention.
"Yes?" the man responded, eyes still on the page. Sherlock did his very best to not sigh. "William. Could you please put the book down and look at me for a moment?"
The blond paused, before slowly, gradually, slotting his bookmark carefully between the pages and setting it down on the nightstand, much more delicately than he had before he went for his shower.
Sherlock nodded. "Thank you. Liam, have I done something to upset you? Ever since we came into the room, and we saw that there was only one bed, you've been acting so…cagey."
William huffed lightly, a small smile on his face. "We've been in the room for an hour and a half, Sherly." The detective fixed him with an unimpressed look. "You know what I mean, Liam."
The blond sighed. "I haven't done something like this before." Sherlock blinked, confused. "What do you mean you haven't? You and I have shared a bed together more than once."
William shook his head. "Yes, but that was different. That was always after something. There was a framework to build around. This is different. This is domestic. And I'm not sure how to act."
Sherlock paused. It did make sense. William liked to have a plan for everything, down to the smallest detail. Entering into a large, and entirely unknown situation was the opposite of everything the blond liked.
"I'm afraid that there's not a guidebook for this sort of situation," Sherlock joked. "But Liam, you don't need to worry about getting it right. Hell, being like this is probably one of the few spaces in this world where you don't have to worry about getting it right."
The blond rolled over onto his side, now facing Sherlock properly rather than just staring at the ceiling.
"I suppose so," he said softly. "Forgive me, Sherly. I'm still learning about how to live like this." Sherlock raised an eyebrow, confused. "Like what, Liam?"
"Like a human, rather than a person on a mission."
Sherlock nodded, letting out a small "ah" of understanding.
He raised an arm up, inviting William to come closer. The blond did so, shuffling himself over to Sherlock's side of the bed, tucking himself in next to him. "Does this feel natural?" Sherlock asked, reaching a hand up to tentatively start running it through William's hair.
The blond hummed, a small smile spreading across his lips. "You know, we haven't been in bed like this together since the night before we left for London from New York."
Sherlock's eyes widened slightly. "Has it really been that long?" he murmured, partially to William but also somewhat to himself. God, no wonder Liam was struggling to adjust, he thought.
"Well, it's a good thing that we have this trip now," Sherlock said, tightening his hold on the blond, bringing him closer to his chest.
William snuggled closer. "I don't think I'll be able to get used to it right away," he whispered into the darkness of the room. "The domesticity of our relationship. But…I like it. I like it a lot."
Sherlock dropped a small kiss onto the man's forehead. "Liam. You take all the time that you need to get comfortable with this. We can go as slow as you like. We're both learning, yeah?"
The blond nodded wordlessly against Sherlock's chest. The dark haired man found himself growing sleepier and sleepier, almost on the verge of closing his eyes when William spoke. "Can we do this again tomorrow?"
Sherlock looked down at his partner, giving him another small peck on the head. "We can do this for the rest of our lives, if you'd like that."
William relaxed fully into Sherlock's grasp, head resting up against where Sherlock's heart was. "I think I'd like that, Sherly," he whispered softly.
Sherlock smiled down at him. "I think I'd like that too, Liam."
The mission was important, that was for sure. But it could take a backseat for the night as the two fell asleep in each other's arms.