Work Text:
Blood.
So much blood.
Bilbo held the scratchy, strange-smelling blanket closer to his hunched form, head throbbing as the lights continued to flash and he heard people talking, either in person or in the scratchiness of a radio. The last thing he needed in his life was the police.
Then again, the last thing he needed was for his parents to be dead, let alone have himself be the one to walk in and see their mutilated bodies on the floor.
He was glad that Hamfast was with him, for Bilbo was too numb with shock to call the police. He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t even think. Hamfast had to literally drag him out of the house in order give the police their access.
Now he sat, already spoken to, already questioned, and waiting on something. What it was, exactly, he did not know.
“Mister Baggins?”
Bilbo looked up, and he should’ve been relaxed at the sight of the Detective Inspector. Been at ease that it seemed that they were taking his parents’ murder seriously.
If anything, it only made him more unnerved.
It only made it more real.
“Er-Yes?” He finally coughed out, holding the blanket closer to his person.
“I hate to be keeping you, but another detective wants to question you, and he’s on his way.” The DI explained. “It shouldn’t take long, since he’s rather short with his questions. That, and we’ve contacted your friend for you. He should be by to pick you up shortly.”
“Boyfriend.” Bilbo corrected, fidgeting slightly. “He’s… he’s my boyfriend…”
“Ah…” The DI muttered slowly, brow furrowing. “Of course.”
“Freak’s here.”
Bilbo blinked, brows raising as he heard the DI curse and fiddle with his radio.
“Freak?” He asked quietly, curiously.
“Ah-No, just ignore that.” The DI stated. “This… detective… my team doesn’t always get along with him.”
“Should they really be calling him that?”
The DI opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when two men marched over. One was a tall, lanky man in a sweeping black coat. The other, noticeably shorter man with a somewhat broader build was walking quickly to keep up with him.
Clearly, one was the other detective, but Bilbo didn’t know who the other was.
“Sherlock, John.” The DI greeted.
“Greg.” The shorter man greeted, only to be cut off from conversing further by the taller man.
“The crime scene?”
“We’ve already looked over it, Sherlock. There’s-.” The DI started, but the tall man (Sherlock, Bilbo easily surmised), merely sent him a pointed look. “… In the kitchen.”
“John, with me.” Sherlock ordered, and Bilbo watched as the shorter man sent the DI an apologetic look before following Sherlock into Bilbo’s parents’ house.
He wanted to go after them. Wanted to make sure they didn’t upset anything, but he didn’t want to go back in there. Didn’t want to risk seeing his parents and to make their loss even more realistic.
He wanted to believe it was all a horrible dream for just a little longer.
“Bilbo?”
Bilbo looked up at Hamfast, and he must’ve looked quite pathetic, for his eyes gained a sympathetic light and he sat down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
“Are you sure you want to wait out here?” He continued and Bilbo nodded. “I mean, you can always come inside mine. If only for a little while.”
“Thanks for the offer.” Bilbo replied softly. “But they need to ask me some more questions.”
Hamfast frowned. “And are you sure you want to go with Kíli?” He asked. “I mean, I’m closer in case you need anything from here...”
Bilbo squeezed his eyes shut, feeling his nails bite into his palms. “I can’t, Hamfast.” He answered. “I can’t stand it here anymore. I-I can’t even look at it without seeing…”
He looked at his old friend, feeling his eyes sting. “Why would anyone do this? Why would they want to kill them? They did nothing wrong. Never!” He whispered. “Why would anyone kill such good people?”
“Bilbo!”
Said man immediately got up, feeling his eyes brim and some tension melt away as he saw Kíli fight his way through and rush towards him. As soon as he was in reach, Bilbo launched himself at him and held him close, sobbing into his chest and feeling him return the embrace just as tightly.
“I came as fast as I could.” Kíli choked out, and Bilbo just sobbed harder, even as he felt him press kisses into his hair. “Oh, god, Bilbo. I’m so sorry!”
“I’m just glad you’re here.” Bilbo mumbled into his wet shirt. “I don’t think I could’ve taken much more of this if you hadn’t come.”
“I am here, love. I’m not going anywhere.” Bilbo looked at him, seeing his own tear-stained cheeks and reddened eyes. “As soon as you’re done, I’m taking you home.”
“Are you actually going to explain anything to us before you do this?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
They turned, and Bilbo watched as Sherlock stepped out, accompanied by John and the DI. He wiped his face off with the blanket, trying to not look like too much of a wreck.
“Are you Kíli Durin?” The DI asked, and Bilbo felt Kíli’s hold tighten.
“Yes, that’s me.” He affirmed.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like you to come down to the station so I can ask you a few questions.” The DI said sternly, and Bilbo stiffened.
No, Kíli couldn’t be a suspect. He was athletic, sure, but he wasn’t strong enough, in body or mind, to do what that… that monster did to his parents. He just couldn’t!
“That won’t be needed, Lestrade.”
Bilbo blinked, tightening his own hold on Kíli as the tall man stepped closer to them. They couldn’t take Kíli from him. They couldn’t accuse him of this and send him to jail. He needed Kíli, and they needed to know he didn’t do this.
“Why? You’ve got all you need?” The DI asked, crossing his arms. “Don’t even need a confession?”
“Not from him.” Sherlock answered, giving Kíli and Bilbo both a once-over. “Because he didn’t do it. Neither did Mister Baggins.”
Bilbo sagged in relief against Kíli, though fidgeted when Sherlock stared at him for what seemed like longer than necessary, eyes narrowing in confusion briefly.
“What? How the hell do you know that!?”
“The bags under his eyes, the coffee stains on his shirt, and the ink stains on his right hand suggest that he’s been working at his desk job all day. Started rather early, too.” Sherlock explained quickly. “Family business, judging by your attire. Not run by your father, but someone else that’s close. Someone who you want to impress.”
Kíli nodded dumbly, and Bilbo shivered a little when he stroked his arm. “My uncle.” He explained. “I’ve been working overtime.”
“Yes, clearly. Not just to impress him either. It was for the extra money that you need to buy something important. Something you didn’t want to borrow money for.” The detective continued. “Engagement ring, most likely. Plus, judging by the abundance of wedding books in the house, your partner’s parents were in on it. They liked you, trusted you enough to make their son happy, and readily gave you permission to ask him. You had no reason to kill them.”
Bilbo didn’t focus on the fact that the man before him clearly surmised that Kíli was planning to propose to him. He was flattered, truly, but that was the last thing he wanted to know at the moment. Even if Kíli’s face went aflame and he ducked his head away.
“The who was it?” John cut in, clearly impatient. “You said yourself that whoever did this was angry and jealous over something.”
“Fertilizer.” Sherlock only responded, and Bilbo stiffened when he saw who the detective turned towards next.
“Hamfast…”
Said man’s eyes widened. “Pardon?”
“There was fertilizer all over the crime scene. You said so yourself, John. But look at their garden. There’s not a single trace of it here.” Sherlock explained, and Bilbo watched Hamfast pale as the tall man approached him. “You, however, are a gardener. I can see it from the dirt under your fingernails, and the callouses on your palms. Not to mention the very prominent tan you’re sporting.”
“I-I didn’t do it!” Hamfast protested. “Why on earth would I have reason to kill them!?”
“For Bilbo.” Said man felt himself stiffen as he watched his friend’s reaction to those words. “From the way you watched him and comforted him, it was clear that you love him, almost obsessively so. When I saw how you reacted when he went to his partner, you were angry. Angry that Bilbo was taken from you. Angry that his parents were allowing this man, this much younger, more physically fit man, to take him away from you.”
He watched as Hamfast lips thinned and his knuckles went white, and Bilbo suddenly felt quite sick. He wavered, and Kíli strengthened his hold on him so he wouldn’t fall.
“Of course, you didn’t know about the engagement plans. Only just recently discovered them. You were never planning on killing them, but once you discovered this, you snapped.” Sherlock continued before turning towards the DI. “Search his home. I have no doubt you’ll find the murder weapon and the clothes he wore. He hasn’t had time to properly dispose of them. You’ll probably find that he has been planning to dispose of Mister Durin as well. So-.”
It was fast, almost too fast.
Hamfast lunged, shoving Sherlock away before trying to run towards them, and Bilbo could only numbly allow Kíli to shove him out of the way before John tackled Hamfast to the ground.
“You bastard!” Hamfast shouted, and Bilbo hid his face in Kíli’s shoulder, because he couldn’t look at his old friend anymore. “You stole him from me! I saw him first! I was there for him! Ever since we were kids, I was there! And then you come in and you take him from me!”
“John! John, we got him! Take him away!”
“Bilbo!” And he winced into Kíli’s shoulder as he heard the officers drag Hamfast away in handcuffs. “Bilbo, I love you! I love you more than he ever could! How can you not see that!? How could you leave me for him!? Bilbo! Bilbo!”
xxx
“Here’s the number for the therapist Doctor Watson recommended. I can call her in the morning, if you want.”
Bilbo shook his head, holding his tea with trembling hands as Kíli sat down on the couch next to him. He made sure to leave space for Bilbo, but he wasn’t having it. He couldn’t handle space from one of the few people in his life that was completely and unequivocally good. Thankfully, Kíli allowed Bilbo to press close to him, draping an arm across his shoulders.
“Uncle gave me a couple days off. So I can be here for you.” Kíli continued. “And I will be here for you, Bilbo. Don’t you worry.”
Bilbo let out a deep, shuddering breath, relaxing even further as Kíli’s fingers began to massage his head.
“And… as for the… you know…” Kíli muttered, and Bilbo finally looked up at him. “Don’t... Don’t worry about it right now. It can wait.”
“Thank you.” He replied, voice crackling slightly.
Kíli nodded, and they sat in silence for a while, and Bilbo frowned when Kíli began to twitch. It was a habit of his, one that meant that he was dying to ask something.
“What is it?” He asked, and immediately winced, because he didn’t mean to sound so harsh.
“Nothing! Nothing important, really, but…” Kíli muttered. “Doctor Watson… are you related to him?”
Bilbo blinked, looking up at him. “No!” He answered. “Why?”
Kíli gave him a look. “You looked like bloody twins, that’s why.”
It was probably because he was tired, so completely drained in more ways than one, but those words caused Bilbo to laugh. He laughed harder than he had in quite a while. Kíli stared at him, blindsided by this sudden outburst, but eventually he began to laugh as well.
“Oh, god. I thought he looked familiar.” He breathed. “I don’t think so, but who knows? Maybe he’s some distant relative or something. Probably much better than the ones I actually know.”
Kíli chuckled at that as he rubbed his hand along Bilbo’s back.
“Kíli?”
“Yes, love?”
“I… Thank you…” Bilbo looked up at him, swallowing hard as he tried to push back what Sherlock had said. Not so much what Kíli had apparently done with his parents without him knowing, but about what Hamfast was planning to do. About how he could’ve walked in and seen Kíli on their kitchen floor instead of his parents.
He felt horrible when he tried to comprehend what was the better outcome.
It seemed that Kíli understood, for he nodded. “No need to thank me. Just know that… if you ever want to talk…”
“I know, Kee.” Bilbo assured. “I know.”
Silence settled between them, and it was awkward, more awkward than the silences that had occurred between them early on in their acquaintance before Kíli asked him out.
As Bilbo tried not to think of what could’ve happened if he had never agreed to have gone out with him, Kíli let out a tired sigh.
“Well, I’m thinking of going to bed. We have to get up early tomorrow in order to give our statements.” He stated, and Bilbo sat up so Kíli could stand. “You coming?”
“Not right now.” Bilbo said. “I…”
His voice caught, and he swallowed. He didn’t want to tell Kíli that he was afraid to go to sleep. Afraid of what nightmares would plague his dreams. Afraid of what the morning would bring, and how he had to relive the horrible nightmare that was that evening. How he would have to call that therapist when all he wanted to do was tear that slip of paper with those digits up and be left alone in his grief. How he would have to plan a funeral that was a few decades too soon. How he would probably wonder why he didn’t see any of it.
“I’m not tired.” Was what he said instead. “You go on ahead. I’ll join you in a bit.”
“Okay…” Kíli replied. “If you’re sure…”
With that, he watched as Kíli headed towards their room, almost as exhausted as he was to not properly get ready for bed. With that, Bilbo sat, staring at the tea he barely touched, and trying to wrap his mind around everything.
His parents were dead.
They were killed.
And they were killed by Hamfast.
Why couldn’t Bilbo see it? See what Hamfast felt, let alone see how angry he was. How could he have been so blind.
If he wasn’t, if he was more like Sherlock, his parents could still be alive right now.
Numbly, Bilbo stood from the couch with his tea and approached one of their bookshelves. Kíli had gotten them for his books, and one of them was filled to the brim, but the other was only half-full, most of it filled with Kíli’s own books and photographs. He forgot how to breathe when he saw a few with his mother and father in them, and instead reached for one in particular.
It was taken at his birthday last year, when he had been dating Kíli for several months, quite a while before he asked Bilbo to move in with him. He tried not to think about the fact that his father took the picture, and instead focused on who all was in the photograph. He was in it, and Kíli was standing next to them. They both looked happy, smiling wide, and Bilbo even looked like he was in the middle of a laugh.
It was nice, but he was more focused on the fact that Hamfast was on Bilbo’s other side. His smile wasn’t so bright, and he wasn’t as close to Bilbo as he usually was in photographs.
He truly was blind. And stupid.
Bilbo set his tea aside, and with trembling fingers, he forced the frame open and took the picture out. He didn’t care if he damaged the other parts of the picture, he just tore out Hamfast as quickly and as brutally as possible. He wanted to burn that ragged, twisted picture of a man he knew since childhood. Wanted to set fire to every part of the man in his entire existence.
He shoved it in his pocket to do so tomorrow.
He took what remaining picture was left and brought it back with him to the bedroom he shared with Kíli. He saw how he had spread himself out on the bed, subconsciously reaching towards his side.
Kíli was practically the only family he had left, now, save for his actual relatives, most of whom he despised. It was mainly Kíli and his brother, and maybe their uncle. Though the man never seemed to be quite alright with his nephew dating a man that was closer to his age than said nephew’s.
It was only Kíli, and he made a silent vow to protect him from now on. No longer would Bilbo be blind or stupid. He would do whatever it took to protect the people who were precious to him.
He wondered if Sherlock Holmes would like an apprentice.