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Everything about this scene felt familiar. The way the early night seemed to stretch into eternity, with its empty sky waiting for the stars. The sun about to disappear into the horizon as the quiet of the dusk settles in. Sitting down on the soft grass, William stares into the vast space, his eyes trying to catch sight of whatever star wished to shine that night. The wind played with the ends of his hair, a soft smile gracing his features. It grew wider when he felt the presence of a certain gentleman sitting beside him. He shifted his body so that he can focus on the man before him and nothing else. He wasn’t surprised to see him already staring back.
For a moment, William stared at the detective, and he, in turn, stared back, a gentle expression on their faces. He couldn’t look away, not that he wanted to. He was always drawn to him and his captivating gaze. Sherlock couldn’t help but grin at the sight. A wonderful feeling of euphoria washed over him when his fingers linked with the professor’s hand. His heart raced every time he felt the cool metal of the ring on William’s finger as if to remind him that this was real. It felt as though time slowed down, but he knew that mere seconds passed. He combed William’s hair away from his face and let his hand linger on his cheek. “How are you this evening my dear?”
“Very well.” William relaxed into Sherlock’s touch, bringing his own to cup the detective’s hand. “Only I wish you would not call me ‘my dear’.”
“Why?” The detective’s response is too quick, as if he knew the answer already, and wanted William to say it. A teasing smile reflected his own as he took the other’s hands in his.
“Because it’s what my brother always calls your brother when he’s cross about something.” Sherlock found himself nodding as memories played through their heads. Although Albert rarely called Mycroft that, they associated the nickname with them whenever it seemed as if a fight would break out. They chuckled at the recollection. This brought Sherlock to a new question.
“What endearments am I allowed, then?” William tilted his head at this, also wondering the same thing. Sherlock studied the man, adoring the way his eyebrows furrowed in concentration and the little pout he makes whenever he’s deep in thought.
“Well, let me think.” He paused to consider the choices. “Liam, for every day. Mon cher, on Sundays.”
William, running his thumb over the other’s hands, barely contained the smile at the idea of his husband calling him any of these nicknames. “And… Lord of Crime, on special occasions.”
The detective laughed as he threw his head back. Of course, he would want to be called that. William loved the way he beamed at the idea. He felt his heart skip a beat when he heard him laugh. As the laughing ceased, Sherlock made sure to take note of what to call him.
“Mhm, and what shall I call you when I’m cross?” It wasn’t that Sherlock would find himself cross with William. Yet he couldn’t help but tease the man, especially when he loved his reactions so much. “Mr. Holmes?”
“No.” For the first time, the blond found himself talking seriously as if the very idea that Sherlock would call him ‘Mr. Holmes’ when he’s upset was out of the question. He was shaking his head as if he didn’t want to think about that scenario. His grip on Sherlock’s hands tightened, his expression finally relaxing.
“No, you may only call me Mr. Holmes when you are… completely…” Leaning in closer, he couldn’t miss the glint in Sherlock’s eyes. He stared at him as if he was the brightest star that shone through the night. Their breaths intermingling as they beamed, feeling content with this close feeling.
“...and perfectly…” He slightly turned his head, as if to rest his head on his shoulder, or to sneak a little kiss from the man. Sherlock looked at him with curiosity and adoration, heartbeat ringing in his ears as he got closer, yet never daring to touch. A teasing game, he soon realizes, looking at William as if he was slowly uncovering his true intent.
“...and incandescently happy.” Oh. William didn’t dare to close the gap, but based on the detective’s expression, he found it hard to restrain himself. A moment of shock crossed Sherlock’s features as if he found another reason to love this man. On the other hand, William stared at him with a gentle gaze, as if the very idea of Sherlock calling him ‘Mr. Holmes’ sent his heart in a frenzy. The detective regained himself, grinning at him as he held his chin in between his fingers and tilting his head up.
As he grew dangerously close, William felt that feeling again. The feeling of falling in love all over again as the man uttered the next words through his lips.
“And how are you this evening, Mr. Holmes?”