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Title: The Perfect Moment
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Table: Otherwordly Challenge, tv_universe
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.
***Sherlock glanced over at Will as they sat on the couch with their tea; the other man seemed to be studiously avoiding talking to him, or even looking at him. He didn't know what Will was so nervous about, but whatever it was, they needed to confront it head-on.
He had to pick and choose his moment to bring up the ideas he had for Will's future. He only hoped that Will would be receptive to those ideas.
He didn't want to run Will's life. He didn't want to tell the younger man what to do. But he wanted to take care of Will, to continue helping him through the mess he'd found himself in. He wanted to hold out a hand to Will, to give him in hope, a light in the darkness.
Sherlock hoped there would be a perfect moment to do just that.
Already there had seemed to be some chances, but he'd let them pass him by. The time hadn't seemed right; it hadn't been the perfect, golden moment, when the delicate balance around them was exactly right to put forth what he thought would be a good plan.
But was what he wanted right for Will? It seemed as thought it was, but that was up to Will to decide. After all, he knew what he wanted.
Still, he was going to patiently wait for that perfect moment, that kairos, and then put his suggestions to Will as firmly as he could, hopefully without making the other man feel as though he was being pushed. He didn't want to frighten Will away.
At the moment, Will was extremely fragile and vulnerable. Sherlock knew that, and he would never use the fact to his advantage, even for Will's own good.
No, he was simply going to put his ideas forth as gently as possible, and try to encourage Will to think about them, to consider them. That was all. He wasn't going to push; he had the feeling that if he did, Will would run the other way, either out of fear or caution.
The last thing he wanted was to send Will running away from him.
No, he didn't want Will to run in the opposite direction. Rather, he wanted Will to run to him, to trust him and to let him hold out hope for the future.
Will's future here in Wolf Trap, working with the FBI, was effectively ended. Even if he did manage to stay with them, his usefulness to them was probably at an end, thanks to Lecter's scheming, and Jack Crawford being all too eager to go along with those plans.
"I can't stay here." Will's voice was very soft; Sherlock almost wasn't sure that he'd heard the words correctly. "My life here is over. Done. I've got nowhere to go."
"Yes, you do, Will," Sherlock said, his own voice just as soft. "You can come to London with me and start an entirely new life. If that's what you want, then I'll give it to you."
This was it. This was the perfect moment, that delicate, fragile, golden balance when he could say what he wanted to say, when he could let his feelings out. But for some reason, he didn't let himself do that. He held those personal feelings back, at least for the present.
He had to convince Will that he could indeed have a new life, that he could start over. Once he did that, then everything else would fall into place for them.
His emotions had to be put on the back burner for now.
He couldn't let his desire for Will take over; he couldn't let this young man know just how he felt. Will wasn't in a state where he could assimilate those feelings easily; he was at a point where he was torn, conflicted. He didn't need Sherlock's emotions muddying the waters.
Will didn't need this to be made any harder for him. Sherlock was determined to just put the choice in front of him, to hold back the personal side of things until later.
"I want you there, Will," he said softly, leaving his personal feelings at those few words. "I miss having another person in the flat with me. And I think you would easily be able to find a job at Scotland Yard. They could use someone like you, and they'd be grateful for your help."
There. That was all true. The only thing he had left out was the fact that he himself was attracted to Will, that he wanted the young man with him.
He didn't know if Will felt the same, but he did know that there was a pull between them, a connection that neither of them could deny. Maybe Will didn't feel it yet, or maybe he did, but didn't understand what it meant. Sherlock wasn't sure that he did, either.
But it was there, nonetheless. And he wanted to explore that connection.
"London sounds good to me," Will said after a pause. "But it would mean giving up the house here. It would mean changing everything in my life. And I'm not good with change, Sherlock. I never have been. You'll have to help me with that. It's a lot to take on."
"I'm more than willing to do it," Sherlock told Will, reaching out to take the younger man's hand in his own. "I'm willing to do a great deal for you, Will. Just give me the chance."
Will's hand gripped his, and the young man's gaze met his own with a look that told Sherlock all he needed to know. Will had entrusted him with his future in that one look; Will was in his keeping now, and he would do all that he could to make sure that future was bright.
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