"Sherlock!" someone cried above him, making Sherlock jump back to life, pulling his blankets over his chest and opening his eyes wider. He blinked rapidly, seeing none other than the only person he didn't want to see, Victor.
"Victor, my god what are you doing here?" Sherlock wondered, noticing that there was still light coming in from his windows, soft moonlight shining in from the sky. It was still night time, he hadn't even slept for an hour and still his brain had conjured up those images, that scene...Sherlock was almost tempted to make sure it hadn't been real, it had felt so real, his lips still felt as if they were tingling...
"I was checking on you, making sure that everything was alright before you finally settled in. I see that I have arrived too late." Victor decided. Sherlock scowled, pulling his blankets right up to his chin, feeling very self-conscious even though he was fully clothed. Something about Victor's presence threatened him, made him feel vulnerable.
"How long have you been here?" Sherlock wondered.
"Not long, but long enough." Victor said with a small smile, as if he knew something Sherlock didn't. Sherlock blinked at him nervously, not really wanting to know what this boy had to say.
"Long enough for what?" Sherlock asked in a small voice. Victor just smiled, pulling over Sherlock's desk chair and seating himself in it, as if he intended on staying a while.
"Dreams are a funny thing, aren't they?" Victor wondered. Sherlock felt nearly paralyzed with fear, had Victor somehow managed to read his dreams, was he able to see all of that? But no, it was a dream, just a dream it meant nothing.
"Not really." Sherlock muttered weakly. Victor nodded, running his hand over Sherlock's blanket as if interested in feeling the material.
"I think they're fascinating. They unlock whatever your brain had been thinking of, they take us to a place where no one could ever follow, they're ours and ours alone. They grant you your biggest wish, your darkest fear, they let you do things that you might not have been able to do before." Victor said with a smile.
"Get to the point Victor." Sherlock snapped, even though he didn't want to hear what Victor had to say he wanted to just get it over with so that maybe this snake could finally slither away.
"You were muttering his name, ever so softly. I heard you." Victor said simply. Sherlock backed away from Victor, shuffling under his sheets, trying to get as far as he possibly could without falling off the other end of his bed.
"I wasn't dreaming about John." he lied quickly, his brain jumping immediately to the closeness, to the kisses.
"I'm sorry if I don't believe you. Obviously my words penetrated you enough to doubt yourself, to start wondering. The darkest depths of our brains are the only parts that are truly self-aware, and sometimes they leak into our brains and tell us things we didn't want to hear." Victor whispered.
"I don't want to hear any more of your voice." Sherlock decided.
"Don't attack me for speaking the truth. He was in your dream, you saw him, just admit it to yourself Sherlock, admit your feelings. Once you discover the truth in your heart is when you can finally figure out why you so blindly trust him. Love leads to more deaths than I would care to admit, and if you've somehow figured out how to fall in love with your assassin, well, that's where I come in. I only want to help you Sherlock, my lips are sealed." Victor assured. "Evidently, yours are not."
"I don't want to hear this Victor, you're disgusting." Sherlock snapped.
"I'm the only person in your life right now that knows what is going on in your head. I understand." Victor assured. "It's scary, I know, love is a terrible burden, even more terrible when it's impossible."
"You're right, it's impossible, no one that I have ever known would even take this outrageous theory into consideration, not even myself." Sherlock insisted.
"Good thing I'm here to snap you back into reality. Just because you've never heard of it, doesn't mean it's not possible." Victor assured.
"It's not possible." Sherlock decided flatly, shaking his head in disagreement. "It's not."
"There must be a way out there for me to convince you that the love between two men is indeed real, and in my mind, the purist of all love out there." Victor muttered.
"I won't listen, please Victor, just get out, go find my killer, don't try to solve the enigma that is my heart." Sherlock snapped.
"Well of course I need to try, everything counts Sherlock." Victor insisted.
"Leave." Sherlock repeated, and Victor got up from his chair, tucking it back under the desk where it belonged. But he stood there for a moment, staring at Sherlock as if wondering if there was anything more he could say or do.
"Talk to John, maybe that would help you with your feelings. Maybe that would help you understand that maybe he has the same problem." Victor suggested. Sherlock didn't say anything back, but thankfully that was all Victor was planning on saying, because he turned on his heel, his cape flowing behind him as he stormed out the door.
YOU ARE READING
Sherlock is the youngest son of a powerful family dynasty, with all the pressure of being the perfect prince sitting on his shoulders. However, he builds his good reputation on lies and tricks, and he dreads the day when his failures will come into...