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Title: Bittersweet Homecoming
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Fandom: Hannibal/Sherlock
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1drabble
Prompt: 20, Bittersweet
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.

***

Will got out of the car and stood there for a few moments, staring at his house.

It didn't feel like his house any more. Even though he had only been incarcerated for a few weeks, it felt like a lifetime. His dogs weren't here; a friend was taking care of them, and the absence of excited barking made him feel sad and deflated.

He had known that coming home to an empty house would be a bittersweet feeling, but he hadn't expected to feel as though he wanted to cry.

He swallowed hard, turning to Sherlock and trying to smile. "This is it," he said, his voice very soft. If he tried to speak any louder, he was afraid that he would cry, and there was no reason for it. This wasn't the time for him to break down.

No, he could do that later tonight, when he was sleeping in his own bed again.

"It's a very nice house, Will," Sherlock said, his voice very soft and gentle. "Shall we go inside, so I can have the grand tour? I'd like to see where you've lived. I think it will give me a much better understanding of you, of who you are and what you do and don't like."

"You do?" Will had to laugh at his own words. "Yeah, of course it will. You're a profiler just like I am, in a way. You notice people's surroundings."

He led the way into the house, relieved to see that someone had been here to dust and vacuum so that the place didn't look and feel completely abandoned.

How much longer would he be here? Not long, really, if he had any inkling about his future. He didn't have a place with the FBI any more; he could try to keep teaching, but he seriously doubted that the Academy would want him around, even though he'd been proven innocent.

He still didn't know just how Sherlock had managed that one.

"I like how you've set it up," Sherlock said with a smile, looking around the living room. His gaze moved over the couch, the piano, the fireplace, and Will wondered just what his companion was gleaning about him from this cursory reading of his home.

He almost didn't want to look around himself. It was good to be home, but it was a bittersweet feeling to know that he probably wasn't going to stay here for long.

Coming home was bittersweet, yes, but he should have expected that. Will held back a sigh, wishing that none of this had ever happened, and that everything could be different. But it was too late to wish for the clock to be turned back. He could only move forward from here.

He would have to close the door on the past, and make what he could of the future.

***