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Title: Hunter and Prey
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Table: 9, 50ficlets
Prompt: 28, Awkward
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.
***"Well, this certainly makes the idea of going out on a date a little awkward."
Sherlock tried to laugh off what had just happened, but Will shook his head, frowning and looking serious as he stepped back from his boyfriend.
"No, I don't think we should cancel our date," he said slowly, as though he was thinking about what he was saying even as he spoke. "If we do, then whoever just took that shot is going to feel like they've won. They want to disrupt our lives. I don't think we should let them."
"We may be giving them the satisfaction of disrupting our plans for the evening, but going out may put us in a vulnerable position," Sherlock pointed out. "It isn't safe, WIll."
"And since when was safety such a major concern for you?" Will asked him, folding his arms across his chest. "You're always putting yourself into dangerous situations. I don't want you treating me like I'm some kind of porcelain doll, Sherlock."
Sherlock sighed softly, knowing that Will was right. He couldn't constantly protect his boyfriend, no matter how much he might want to do just that.
Will was used to danger, Sherlock reminded himself.
After all, his boyfriend had once been an FBI agent. He was used to being in the middle of bad situations; he didn't need to be constantly protected.
Will was a brave man, and a resourceful one. He probably felt the same as Sherlock did; he wanted to be able to protect the people he loved from harm. Sherlock took a deep breath, nodding to acknowledge the truth of Will's words as he, too, stepped back.
"Perhaps we shouldn't cancel our date, but ...." He looked around the house, frowning. "We need to call in the police, Will. Tell them what's happened here."
Will frowned, then sighed and nodded in agreement.
"So I guess going out isn't in the cards for tonight," he said, sounding disappointed. "We need to be here when the cops get here, and tell them everything that happened."
Sherlock nodded slowly, wishing that he had simply driven them into the town. But he had wanted tonight to be wonderfully romantic, so he had called a cab, which was why they had been waiting. If they hadn't been, then none of this would have happened.
His mind quickly moved forward, thinking about what could have happened if they'd gone out on their date -- and then returned home late at night.
Whoever had shot at Will could have been waiting for them -- and this time, they might have had a clearer shot at him when they were getting out of the car.
Will could easily be dead now, if their evening had gone more as planned. Sherlock shivered at that thought, pushing it away, forcing it out of his mind. Well, they hadn't gone out, and Will was very much safe and alive. The attempt on his life had failed.
Unless .... it hadn't been an attempt to kill Will, but rather, a warning to them both. That was what this felt like. A warning shot, to give them a heads up.
But why would someone who wanted to harm either of them do such a thing?
It was almost as though the person who was behind this saw it as a game -- one where they were the prey, and their unknown assailant was the hunter.
Sherlock didn't like that idea at all. He was used to having criminals come after him, and no doubt Will was, as well. But he didn't want to think about Will being a target for anyone; the thought of some unnamed killer coming after his boyfriend made rage rise within him.
If anyone tried to harm Will, he would kill them with his bare hands, no matter how awkward that might be to explain to the authorities.
Still, it would be self-defense, wouldn't it? If there was someone who was determined to come after Will, then in Sherlock's eyes, that person was after the both of them. And protecting his boyfriend would be basically the same thing as protecting himself.
Sighing, he turned his head towards the front door as he heard the wail of sirens; Will had obviously already called the police, and they were getting here quickly.
So, that meant that they definitely wouldn't be going out tonight.
It would be awkward enough to deal with explaining what had happened to the police, without telling them that they wanted to carry on with their plans for the evening.
Now they would spend their evening talking to the police -- and cleaning up the glass of the window, as well as putting something over it until they could get someone to come out and replace the broken shards in the morning -- rather than having a romantic dinner.
Sherlock sighed softly, taking out his phone. He would call the restaurant and cancel their reservation, and hope that they could make it there another time.
This was maddening. He didn't want to deal with the awkwardness of the police.
But they really had no choice, he told himself as he waited for someone at the Italian restaurant to pick up the phone. They couldn't just leave the house now.
He couldn't help feeling as though they were being herded in a particular direction, onto the path that this unknown person wanted them to tread. He had the sneaking suspicion that they were being manipulated, that whoever was behind this played a cat and mouse game.
Well, it wasn't a game that their nemesis was going to win, he vowed to himself. He and Will weren't going to be manipulated or frightened into making a wrong move.
They would be the eventual victors in this battle. He'd bet his life on that fact.
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