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Title: A Sense of Danger
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
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.
***"It looks exactly as I remembered it."
Sherlock looked around him, his grip on Will's hand unconsciously tightening as they strolled along the path that led to the waterfall, through the surrounding forest.
There was no one else here; a slight drizzle had kept other tourists to Switzerland from coming out. But Sherlock hadn't wanted to postpone confronting the scene of his dreams.
Something about this pastoral, quiet scene just didn't feel right to him. It felt as though there was some underlying danger here, though he couldn't put his finger on just what was bothering him. Nothing seemed out of place, but there was some sense of unease that he couldn't push aside.
Sherlock resolved to be more wary and cautious than usual; he wasn't going to risk anything happening to Will. If the danger he felt was real, he didn't want it turning on his boyfriend.
"It's beautiful," Will murmured, squeezing his hand in return. "What I don't get it why you dream about throwing yourself into the waterfall. It doesn't inspire that feeling in me."
"It didn't when I was here before," Sherlock told him, shaking his head.
He didn't know why his dreams took such a macabre turn, either. He would never have thought that such a magnificent sight could inspire him to end his own life.
The waterfall was beautiful; he had to admit that. There was nothing about it that he thought would fill someone with so much despair that they would want to give up on living.
Yet for some odd reason, that was what his dream self had done. Why? Nothing here gave him an answer, as he had hoped that it would. But that sense of danger around them was growing; he felt nervous and jumpy, and suddenly, all he wanted to do was get back to the safety of their hotel room.
They shouldn't have come here, Sherlock told himself. They didn't belong here. Somehow, he had been lured to this place, and not knowing the reason why terrified him.
Why were they here? Why had he listened to some indefinable voice inside his head, instead of following hsi good sense and brushing off his dreams? They were only dreams, after all.
Still, dreams could be prophetic, and he couldn't help feeling that this one was. There was on other reason for him to be feeling such a sense of foreboding, when nothing else on this trip to Switzerland had made him feel that they were being watched, that danger was hovering over them.
Will didn't seem to feel it, but then, he hadn't told Will about this strange sense of being followed. He hadn't wanted to worry his boyfriend. Will already had enough to deal with.
A sudden thought occurred to Sherlock, jolting him as though he'd been hit by a thunderbolt. Why hadn't he realized it before? What was wrong with him?
He had been lulled into a false sense of safety. He should have known better.
Hannibal. He had no doubt that Will's nemesis had followed them here, that he was lurking somewhere in the shadows, waiting to make them both his next victims.
No, he wouldn't want to make Will a victim. He would want to claim Will for his own. It was Sherlock who he would try to do away with, probably in as painful as way as possible.
He couldn't have actually sent those dreams. He didn't have that kind of power. But Sherlock had no doubt that those dreams had come to him subconsciously because of his concerns about Hannibal. His worries had made their way into his slumbering hours, creating a dream world that felt real.
He didn't doubt that Hannibal was here. He might not be with them now, but he was in Switzerland. He wouldn't lose a chance to follow them, to observe what they were doing.
And here, away from the security of the London streets that they knew well, he would have a better chance of doing away with one of them.
Sherlock cursed himself for not thinking of all this much sooner.
He'd had enough of looking at this cursed waterfall. He saw it enough in his dreams. It had been a mistake to come here, one that he was afraid they might pay dealy for.
"Let's get out of here," he murmured to Will, sliding an arm around his boyfriend's waist. "I just want to go home. I don't think it was a good idea to come here."
Was it his imagination, or did Will suddenly look cautious, rather than confused by his words? It was as though his own worry, his own certainty that Hannibal was somewhere near, had spread to Will without him having to say a word. If that was so, then Will would agree that they needed to leave.
Will only nodded, turning away from the waterfall. "Okay," he said, a note of curiosity in his voice. "This trip was your idea, so I'll defer to you on whatever you want to do, Sherlock."
Sherlock could only feel grateful that Will wasn't questioning him here and now, though he had no doubt that those questions would come later. "Thank you, love. Let's get back to the hotel."
They turned away from the waterfall as one, ready to make their way back.
But as they did so, a figure stepped from the shadows -- a tall, thin figure with slicked-back hair. A figure that had become all too familiar to both of them.
Will gasped, his blue eyes going wide. Sherlock fought not to show any emotion whatsoever; he didn't want to betray the sudden pounding of his heart, the chill down his spine.
"Hello, Will," Hannibal said, his voice low and menacing.
Neither Will nor Sherlock answered his greeting. They merely stood still, waiting.
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