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Title: Shot in the Dark
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Table: 9, 50ficlets
Prompt: 9, Darkness
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Hannibal Lecter or Will Graham, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
***There was something soothing about the night, Sherlock told himself as he stood on the porch of their rented country house and looked out into the woods. This place felt so peaceful; it was a very different atmosphere from the city that he was used to.
It was comforting, this darkness that surrounded him.
He had always relied on darkness when he was hunting criminals. He had used it to keep to the shadows, to make sure that his presence was cloaked. He was good at that.
But darkness wasn't always good. Even though it could hide him, it could always hide things from even his eagle eye. It was yin and yang, just like everything else in life, he mused. Good and bad, dark and light. The darkness could go both ways.
The darkness outside at the moment felt comfortable, but Sherlock knew that it wouldn't always be so. The darkness could turn frightening at any time.
He closed his eyes, thinking of the darkness that his life would be plunged into if he lost Will. That was a darkness very different from the kind that he was facing now, or the kind that he dealt with when he was trying to solve a case.
Even a particularly complicated case that seemed to have no solution wasn't as dark as the emptiness that would open around him without Will in his life.
That was a darkness that he didn't want to face.
That was a darkness he would never be able to pull himself out of, one that would envelop him until he was swallowed up in it, buried alive, unable to find the light again. He would be a shell of the man he was now, merely existing, not actually living.
The thought made him shudder with revulsion. He didn't want to live like that.
Will was the light in his life, his beacon of hope, his safe haven. He wasn't going to lose the man he loved; he would do everything in his power to make sure of that.
And, wonder of wonders, Will felt the same about him. They might not be intimate yet, but they were getting there. They didn't have to rush; there was no need for them to jump into bed merely to experience all of the sensations that would eventually be theirs.
Will wasn't going to simply disappear from his life. Will wouldn't get tired of him. He wasn't the kind of man to make promises he didn't keep.
No darkness was going to creep into their lives to take Will away from him. He was being silly to think that; it was simply paranoia trying to take over.
Will wasn't a false lover. He wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be; he felt the same as Sherlock did, and their relationship meant just as much to him. He wasn't going to turn and walk away. He wasn't going to simply disappear forever into some murky darkness.
Sherlock took a deep breath, pushing that thought resolutely away from him. This wasn't the time for him to entertain such dark, depressing thoughts.
They had come here to relax, and to be happy. Not to obsess.
At the precise moment that the thought coalesced in his head, he heard a sound in the woods, something that sounded like a stick breaking. It could be some wild animal; perhaps a deer had stepped on a fallen branch. That was all it was. Nothing to worry about.
An involuntary cry came from his lips when a shot rang out.
It took Sherlock a moment to realize that the shot hadn't been aimed at him; rather, it seemed to be aimed towards the house. Into the room where Will sat on the couch.
Within seconds, he was reacting, running back into the house, his gaze sweeping the living room to make sure that Will was all right. For a moment, he didn't see his boyfriend; he panicked, another soft cry rising to his lips, only to be squelched an instant later.
Will came out of the kitchen, holding a gun in both hands, the expression on his face grim. When he saw Sherlock, he lowered the gun, holding out a hand.
"Nothing. Nobody here that I can see," he said, his words soft, then gaining strength as he continued to speak. "I think the case we're working on might have followed us here. Or it could be something entirely new." He shook his head, sighing. "It all happened so fast."
Sherlock nodded, going to where Will stood and taking the gun from his hand. "Are you all right, Will?" he asked, his voice shaking slightly.
Will looked up at him, nodding, his blue eyes wide with fear and worry.
"Are you all right?" he asked, his voice very soft. "All I could think about when I heard that shot was that you were outside, and they were aiming for you."
"I'm fine, Will." His voice was shaky; relief coursed through him, making him feel weak. Will was safe; that was all that mattered to him. Sherlock wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, closing his eyes, burying his face against Will's hair.
It felt as though the darkness was closing in on them, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He felt helpless, trapped, not knowing which way to turn.
That wasn't a feeling he was used to, and he didn't like it at all.
One single shot in the dark had destroyed their peace and tranquility, and Sherlock didn't think that they were going to get it back any time soon.
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