Chapter Text
The night of the final problem, upon the construction bridge.
William had fallen. He was now getting dragged by Thames’ arms down into its depths. As he fell, his mind was flooding with questions. Why does it take so long? Why does something that was supposed to last only a brief few seconds, feel like a whole eternity? Why is he nervous? He planned everything, calculated every possible outcome, left not even a thinnest space for chance nor fate, and he certainly did not predict that he, who had awaited his own death for so long, wouldn't feel at ease when he finally danced with the eminence of dying. Why does it feel like he is waiting for something or perhaps, someone?
No.
He cannot let himself think that. He is beyond redemption. He can finally free himself from all the demons, all the nightmares of all the lives he has extinguished. Why would anyone save him? And yet…The voice of a certain, determined detective echoed in his head involuntarily.
“Climb up and live, Liam!”
This is absurd. After all he has done? After all he confessed to him in the letter, why is he still tempting him to live? To surrender, to throw away his purpose only to indulge in his ridiculous desires? Why is the one who was supposed to put an end to this abyss only making it more complicated?
Sherlock Holmes.
The very man who ought to despise William, to be utterly disgusted by him, was gazing at him as he was falling, with unbearable despair in his eyes. The whole world felt blurry, the people, the Thames and the bridge were all vague, and his mind could not comprehend anything besides these navy, almost night sky-like eyes.
Suddenly, this pair of eyes was getting closer to his own. William was completely dumbfounded. What on earth is happening? Why is Sherlock’s figure approaching him mid air? Why is the detective smiling so softly, extending his arms towards him with such delicacy as if he is trying to get a hold of something precious, almost like a porcelain doll?
It all struck him in one second, sending shivers down his spine and spreading across his whole body. His heart started hammering against his ribs like a drum, threatening to escape his chest. He felt butterflies in his stomach, with its owner unable to name the feeling. ‘Sherlock had jumped after him’- was all his mind could manage to scrape together, as the latter’s arms embraced him in a tight hug. With his face so close to William’s that he could feel his rushed breath mingling with his own, he whispered:
“Liam, I’ve caught you, finally"
William’s eyes have widened, as he never anticipated such words to escape the other's mouth in a manner like the one they have found themselves in. Before he could utter any response, Sherlock continued:
“Let’s both live, you and I. Together”
The fair-haired man now felt a bolt of anger light through him. He thought the detective would understand, that he would end his misery and watch him disappear into the darkness of the night. He didn't want to live. Death was his only escape from the sins he had let himself commit. And despite all of this, Sherlock, a kind spirit, not only risked his precious life to jump after him, but still tried to save him. As he was bursting with frustration on the inside, he couldn't help but think about one more thing, even though he tried within every inch of his body not to.
He felt at ease. In Sherlock’s arms. In the arms of his arch enemy.
He didn't want to, but it was evident. He always felt that way in his company. He never felt judged or misunderstood. He tried to deny it, because accepting these feelings equaled betraying every belief he had to guide his existence. If he indulged himself in the detective’s adoration towards him, all the crimes he had committed would have gone to naught.
And despite all of this, he now found himself enveloped in a tight embrace, provided by the very man he didn’t let himself become close with. He felt absolutely vulnerable. As tears started to form in William’s eyes, he closed them and surrendered. It was more painful than anything that he had ever anticipated, as he had never fallen upon anyone's mercy before. The man who calculated his every move with the precision of a surgeon made only one great mistake. Without realization, he let himself get carried away by his feelings towards Sherlock Holmes.
He was completely helpless.
As the former Lord of Crime cursed his existence with every offensive word known to men in the history of the English language, the pair finally connected with the Thames, sinking immediately. After that, neither of them could remember what happened next.
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Sherlock felt a salty breeze hanging in the air. They were in the open sea. As he tried to piece together unclear fragments of his memory, he managed to deduce a few facts about his current surroundings:
Someone rescued him shortly after falling into the Thames with William. He is now resting in a campsite bed, wrapped in bandages, with sharp pain piercing through his every limb. Suddenly, he opened his eyes widely and started looking around, in desperate search of familiar, crimson eyes.
“Liam!”
“Ya’ woke up, I see” - These words came from a man whose presence was omitted by the detective, due to overwhelming panic over the man whom he jumped after.
Sherlock ignored him and kept looking around the room they were in, when his eyes stopped upon a bed next to his own. There he saw William. With a weak expression on his face, so innocent and tired, almost like a little child. His left eye was bandaged, and he could see some blood peeking through it. His neck and chest were also wrapped in bandages. He wasted no more time, and stood up rapidly to check on the other. It was then that an unbelievable ache struck his whole body.
“If I were ya’, I would spare myself these sudden movements. Ya’ hurt yourself pretty bad out there too, ya’know?” - Now said the man, who kept waiting to be acknowledged by the dark-haired one.
The man upon whom he posed these sentences slowly sat by William’s bed and grabbed the other's lifeless hand. He eventually decided that talking with the suspicious person was his only way of grasping this situation.
“Who are you? Did you rescue us? Is Liam gon’ be fine?” - Sherlock inquired.
“Woah, calm down, Doc. Ponytail! I’m Henry Antrim, but back home, they call me ‘Billy the Kid’. As for him, I patched ‘im up, so I’m sure he’ll be fine physically. And ya’ guessed right, I’m the one who fished y’all from the bottom of the Thames, it was no easy task, ya’know!” - Billy replied, strangely unconcerned with the detective’s worried look.
Sherlock didn’t exactly reply to his interlocutor’s words. Instead, he started thinking out loud:
“You knew wha’ happened, you still decided ‘o save us, we are currently on a ship headin’ to America, and you probably work for the American government, aye?” - His deductions seemed to be correct, as the other man’s eyes widened, and he curved his lips in a fascinated grin.
“Wow, Doc! Ya’ are as brilliant as they say!” - He exclaimed with excitement. “How’d ya’ know?”
“Well, even a blind and deaf chap could tell you’re from across the pond. The ship is lightly shaking, just enough for a larger boat mid-Atlantic Ocean. As for the governmen’ bit, the Colt M1892* hanging from your belt told me all I needed to know.” - The dark haired man explained, with a manner that made him sound like he was talking about the most obvious thing.
Billy stared at him with a silent admiration, while indulging himself in peeling a fresh apple he reached for upon the table, nodding his head in agreement.
“I should thank you…I’m grateful you saved us both, but…why?” Sherlock asked, looking visibly troubled, glancing at the man sleeping by his side from time to time.
“Well…The American government was interested in both of ya’ for a while now, ya’know? They figured William’s objective as the Lord of Crime and were shocked by his determination. Ya’ as well, it ain’t common to encounter a folk like this there! So, they sent me to observe ya’ both, wanted me to convince y’all to work for the US, but I arrived at a pretty unfortunate time, ya’ see! The rest ya’ already figured, and that pretty much sums up things.”
As the detective listened to Billy’s explanation, a sudden realization struck his mind like a bolt, which made him part his lips in surprise slightly, only for a moment.
‘Mycroft already knew their plan. He had also anticipated the possibility that Sherlock would want to save the brain behind the operation, and most likely got in touch with the American government to provide a safe escape option for the two. He really was always two steps ahead of his younger brother.’
“That scoundrel…He already knew…” - He murmured under his breath, but his annoyed expression quickly changed into a soft smile, filled with relief and gratitude.
“Hmm? What d’ya said?” - Asked the foreigner, with curiosity.
“Oh, don’ bother with it…just thinkin’ out loud.” - The man replied, making Billy look at him, arching his eyebrow.
“So, wha’ did you say about us workin’ for the American government? Wha’ exactly are we supposed to be doin’?” - Sherlock changed the topic.
“Yeah, I’ll explain everything later, when we arrive on the land, but let me give ya’ a brief overview.” - Said the other, now slicing the apple he had previously peeled and putting it in his mouth. “To be precise, ya’ would be working for the Pinkerton Detective Agency. We all know just how great these minds of y’all’s are, so the job would involve solvin’ some cases for us, and gettin’ sent on missions to neutralize the suspicious folks.”
“Hah…Solving cases an’ gettin’ rid of people…Me an’ Liam’s specialty…You really did your research.” - Responded the dark-haired man, with slight mockery in his voice.
“Of course, ya’ don't have to accept, ya'know? However, if ya’ did end up workin’ for the Department of Justice, we'll make sure that no British folks find out ‘bout the fact y’all are still bustin’ and livin’-” There he stopped and looked at William, dug in a deep coma. Sherlock looked at him, and was already bound to say something, but Billy interrupted him and continued. “Sorry for my unfortunate choice of words, Doc. Ponytail. Anyway, if ya’ decline our offer, we won't rat out on ya’, but y’all gonna be on your own ‘bout hidin’ y’all’s identity.” - He finished by consuming the last slice of the apple in his hand.
The detective sighed from the bottom of his lungs, and after looking at the fair-haired man one more time, exclaimed with resignation in his voice:
“Sure. Can’t turn my back on any additional pennies. Someone's gotta take care of Liam once he wakes up.”
“And while we’re at it, Doc, what is y'all relationship with William here? Did ya’ know about his plan all along? I gotta say, I didn't expect y’all to know each other!” - Billy inquired.
“Liam and I workin’ together? Nah, not remotely close…” - Sherlock paused here for a moment.
Henry did, in fact, pose the right question. Indeed, what were they? Until this moment, he referred to William as his ‘friend’. However, their relationship didn’t resemble his friendship with John, not in the slightest. This felt…different. He always got so excited to see him, yet he wasn't exactly sure if that was due to the man’s personality, or rather the fact that he might be the very Lord of Crime he had been trying to pursue. Still, when Sherlock found out that he is, in fact, the criminal mastermind, the centre of the web, he didn’t want to catch him, nor to hand him to the Yard. Instead, he wanted to save him, to be at his side, to face the future together. Thinking about it, he got flustered, and his cheeks turned pink, very lightly. He swallowed a gulp in his throat and got himself back on track, before he could come to a conclusion he had never yet considered possible.
“Liam’s plan needed someone to brin’ light to noblemen’s evil deeds. Ever since we first met, on the Noahtic, he had found myself fittin’. He’s been organizin’ puzzles for me to solve ever since. His intellect is really…somethin’ else. He was always walkin’ 3 steps ahead of me. In the meantime, we spent a few nice moments together, so when I found out, he was the genius Lord of Crime, I felt relieved, happy even. I always knew only he could manage to pull off somethin’ like that. But…he was reckless in the end.” He stopped there, sighing deeply, squeezing William’s hand, which he still held in his own. “Anyway, If I gotta say, I would call him a very important friend. He is dear to me.” - The last part he murmured, whispered almost, as if he was scared that the man he was talking about could actually hear him and got embarrassed.
Billy only whistled with curiosity and sent the other a huge smile.
“What?” - Sherlock groaned, obviously annoyed.
“Ya’know what, Doc? Ya’ seem completely oblivious to the truth, so I’m gonna tell ya’! When ya’ talk ‘bout him, ya’ have this smile on y’all’s face, like you're talkin’ ‘bout the most beautiful flower to ever exist. I dunno why ya’ haven't come to this earlier, really!” - He laughed loudly, noticing how the detective was looking at him, raising his eyebrow. - “It turns out even though ya’ are so clever, ya’ are totally hopeless when it comes to your own feelin’s! You’re obviously fond of him!” - He exclaimed with amusement.
Sherlock felt his ears turning red. Could Billy be actually right? He never experienced any romantic feelings towards anyone, so he couldn't name these feelings. But this felt ridiculous, total madness. How could that be possible? He was so flustered he couldn't manage to get any proper response out of himself, so instead, he only murmured:
“Are you crazy? What’re you even talkin’ ‘bout? We are both men, Liam and I.”
Billy tilted his head in confusion.
“So? Ya’ see, Doc. Ponytail, here in the US, we are more open minded than across the pond. Of course, it ain’t common and it definitely ain’t legal, but folks don’t really care ‘bout other people’s business. Except, y’all are both officially dead anyway, what difference that makes if y'all are with each other?” - He said indifferently. “And I’ll tell ya’ what! From what ya’ve said, it looks like this guy thinks of ya’ the same way! There ain’t anyone out there, who would orchestrate crime scenes to get y’all’s attention, if ya’ were some merely ‘important friend’!”
The dark-haired man felt a shiver coming down his neck. He refused to believe all this. Could William really also feel this way? After all, it did all make sense…He had so many people around him, his brothers, his acquaintances, yet he still wanted Sherlock to be by his side in his final moments. Could this really mean that…Their relationship was possible all along? If he, indeed, felt the same way, why didn’t he just come to the detective? He would accept him, of course, he would accept him. He knew that thinking about this any longer could make him explode, so instead, he decided to drop the topic.
“Shut up…You’re talkin’ nonsense. And why are you even callin’ me ‘Doc. Ponytail’, anyway? You know I ain’t a doctor, righ’?” - He stuttered as the words escaped his mouth, caught absolutely off guard.
“Oh, man! I ain't callin’ ya’ ‘Sherlock’ ‘round here! It sounds like I’m talkin’ ‘bout a door!” - Said the other, bursting from laughter.
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