Yuukoku no Moriarty - Sherliam Oneshots

What We Have Left

Cold sweat dripped from Sherlock's face, his breathing hitched, and closed eyes filled with tears. 

He stood on the dreaded bridge, face to face with the lord of crime. Ruby eyes were emotionless; but it was a mere mask. Sherlock knew those eyes held love in them, deep inside. The man who was hated as the White Knight's murderer, the same man whom the detective loved; stood in front of him, sword pointed.  

"That's enough. Everyone has seen the sight of the detective and the lord of crime fighting."

"So? Do you expect me to stand by and watch as you fall to your death? Is this the brilliant atonement you came up with for yourself?"

William said nothing. 

The detective continued, "You're just doing this to escape your own suffering. Don't use death as an escape!  Live and atone with your life for what you've done."

Stretching out his hand in an attempt to soothe the blonde, the detective said in a soft voice, "Right? Isn't that right, Liam?"

The lord of crime turned his own hand, as if inspecting it. Without looking at Sherlock, he gave a small smile. He took a step back, and plunged into the river, arms outstretched, and the smile still evident on his face. 

"No!"  Sherlock cried, and, in an attempt to save the blonde, almost jumped off the bridge too. But, the Yard officers came in time and pulled him back with such force his arms throbbed with pain.

No, no no no. This can't be happening, William couldn't have died! he thought to himself. He felt as though his head was being ripped apart from two sides. He felt a pressure on his chest he couldn't quite describe. 

Below, among the other citizens present in the area, Louis seemed to be shouting "Sherlock, it's 3 am!"

Sherlock forced his eyes open, but his face was still stained with tears. Everything was a blur. Blonde hair came into view, and slowly, the detective could make out William's face. He looked worried - his eyebrows furrowed together, eyes narrowed by a few degrees and mouth set in a firm line. He was sitting on top of Sherlock, his hands gripping Sherlock's forearms. So that's what that pain was, man, he's strong, the detective wondered. He sat up in a daze, and William adjusted his position so they were almost straddling. 

Suddenly, the detective broke into tears. He couldn't fathom the thought that William could've died if he hadn't jumped with him that day. William removed his hands from the raven haired man's arms, and brought them to Sherlock's face, cradling it. Sherlock leaned closer, and pressed his forehead to the blonde's. They stayed like that for a while, until the lord of crime  broke the silence.

"Nightmare?" he whispered softly.

Sherlock affirmed an equally soft 'yeah'. 

The detective had no reason to confirm the fact. William was fully capable of even guessing what nightmare he had. And apparently, he had, because he continued to comfort the raven haired man. 

"I'm not going anywhere, you know. You're far too important to me for that."  he said, rubbing his thumb along the side of Sherlock's face attempting to calm the detective. 

"I know, Liam." he said, snaking his arms around William's waist and leaning even closer to his lover's face - if that was even possible.

William chuckled slightly, and closed the distance between them, pressing his lips to Sherlock's. 

This wasn't the first time they'd kissed. They'd kissed countless times, even before Sherlock knew William's true identity. They were made for each other. As a detective, Sherlock had seen more deaths than an average person. As a crime lord, so had William. But, neither of them were going to let the idea of death be an obstacle in the path of their life. They knew they would die one day. 

Which was why, they would be sure to make the most of what they have left.

******

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