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Title: Waiting For the Right Time
By: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Fandom: Hannibal/Sherlock
Rating: PG-13
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 smiled as he ruffled Winston's fur, feeling better than he had since he had met Sherlock outside the prison walls. He had made some decisions about his life, they were being put into motion, and he was finally moving forward.

One of the first things he'd done once he had made the decision to move to London with Sherlock was to make sure that his dogs all had homes with people who loved them and would take good care of them -- then he had gone out of his way to get Winston back.

He knew that keeping six dogs in a small London flat wouldn't be a good idea, so he'd made up his mind that they would only have two. But when he he had gone to take Vincent back, he couldn't bring himself to do it. The children of the household loved the dog too much.

The other dogs all had good homes, too. So he had decided that Winston would be their only dog -- and that if Sherlock wanted a dog of his own, then they would get one from a shelter in London. Or maybe he'd end up finding a stray and adopt them.

He knew that Sherlock liked Winston, so maybe he'd want to get another dog. And if not, that was fine, too. Will knew that he'd be happy with just Winston. He didn't need to have a lot of dogs, especially not with the limited space they would have.

He'd miss the others, of course, but they all had good homes now, with other people who loved them. He was happy about that; and as long as he still had one of his beloved dogs, then he'd consider himself a lucky man. He hadn't expected that much.

No, he had thought that he'd be spending the rest of his life in jail, thanks to Hannibal Lecter and Jack Crawford. He pushed those names out of his mind as soon as he thought of them; he didn't want to think about them, at least not for the moment.

He would rather focus on the life that lay ahead of him, Will told himself. Sherlock had told him that he'd already spoken to a man named Lestrade who worked for Scotland Yard, someone who Sherlock seemed to work for at times. And the news was good.

Lestrade had apparently expressed interest in having Will work for the Yard -- with Sherlock. So he would be able to put his empathic ability to good use to keep helping people -- and it didn't seem that the frame-up here would get in the way.

Maybe he would be able to do just what Sherlock had told him that he should do -- start an entirely new life, in a new place. A life where he didn't have to answer to people who didn't have his best interests at heart. A life that was fully his.

It was hard for him to admit that his life hadn't really been his own before -- at least, not after he'd met Hannibal. Nothing he'd done now felt as though it had been under his control -- he was beginning to see just how he'd been manipulated.

Not only by Hannibal, but by Jack Crawford, as well. That was what had really hurt; he had trusted Jack, thought of him as not only his boss, but his friend. Yet Jack had been all too quick to throw him under the bus when Hannibal had apparently suggested doing so.

His life here was over -- if that life had ever really existed for him as more than merely a puppet. Now, he had a chance for something new, something better. And now that he'd made the decision to take the chance, he felt happier than he'd expected to.

London was going to be new and different, and Will was sure that he'd have some adjusting to do. He would be living in the middle of a large city; his privacy and isolation would be gone. It would be something he might have a hard time getting used to.

But he would do it, he told himself firmly. It was probably way past time that he stopped isolating himself so much, physically as well as emotionally. He had already started opening up his heart; now it was time to take a few more steps into society.

Yes, he'd opened his heart to Sherlock. He had talked to the other man about things he'd never told anyone, not even Hannibal in any of their so-called "psychiatric sessions." Sherlock knew more about him, the real him, than anyone else ever had.

He trusted Sherlock, in a way that he had never been able to bring himself to trust Hannibal. He knew that he could tell Sherlock all of his thoughts, and that they would go no further than that. Sherlock wasn't going to spill any of his secrets.

He had never felt that way about Hannibal. Their friendship had been an uneasy one at best; even when he had thought that Hannibal truly cared about him, there had always been that core of doubt that had never quite gone away.

Now he knew the truth about his former friend, and he had to admit that he felt foolish for letting himself be used in such a way. But that was in the past now, over and done with. He could close the door on it, and start an entirely new chapter in his life.

A life that he would be starting with Sherlock. Will's lips curved into a smile as he thought of the other man; he instinctively looked towards the kitchen, where Sherlock was making tea. How could one person have become so precious to him in so short a time?

He was holding onto Sherlock like a life preserver, like a rock that he could cling to in the face of steadily rising waters. Though he really shouldn't feel like that any more, Will admonished himself. The danger was past. He should look to the future.

He was getting out of Wolf Trap, away from Jack and Hannibal. He was going to start an entirely new life that they couldn't follow him into, a life that was far removed from them. And Sherlock had given him that chance. He owed Sherlock so much.

Will closed his eyes, burying his face in Winston's soft fur. The truth was, he couldn't help feeling that he owed Sherlock his very life. He had the definite feeling that if he'd been in jail much longer, he might not have survived.

Sherlock was not only offering him a new life, Sherlock had saved his life. How could he refuse to go to London and start a new life with him, being his companion and friend? Though really, he wanted to be much more than that.

Will wasn't good at reading other people, but he was fairly sure that Sherlock was interested in him. He could see the pupils of those green eyes dilate whenever their gazes happened to meet and hold, and he was positive that Sherlock desired him.

He'd seen Sherlock look at his lips, felt that gaze resting on him when Sherlock hadn't realized he was aware of it. And he'd caught himself doing the same thing, staring at Sherlock when he thought the other man wasn't looking. There was definitely a spark between them.

It was a spark that Will wanted to investigate further. He hadn't given much thought to the idea of falling in love with a man -- but it seemed that he had. He wasn't sure that it was love, but the more he thought about it, the more it seemed as though it was.

What did he know about love? He'd never felt that emotion before, not that he knew of. He had always wondered if he would recognize love when it came knocking -- but now that he was fairly sure it had, he was more than ready to acknowledge its presence.

This wasn't something he'd expected, not at all. But he didn't have the power to turn away from it. He already wanted to be with Sherlock, both as a friend and roommate, and as .... something more. Something much, much more. Something that took his breath away.

He'd dreamed about the two of them in the past two nights, about him making love to Sherlock -- but more about Sherlock making love to him. He'd dreamed about them being together physically, their bodies coming together in the most primal of ways.

And it hadn't seemed wrong, not at all. No, when he'd awakened, he had felt a profound sense of disappointment to discover that it was only a dream, that Sherlock was in the other bedroom just down the hall, and he himself was in his own bed, alone.

He had wanted those dreams to be real. He had wanted to be wrapped in Sherlock's arms, holding the man he was falling in love with, kissing him, feeling the two of them become one. His arms literally ached to embrace Sherlock, to touch him and hold him.

He'd never wanted to touch anyone else the way he wanted to touch Sherlock. And he found himself looking at the other man's mouth when he didn't realize he was doing so, wondering how it would feel to kiss him and to feel those incredible lips under his own.

Sherlock's mouth looked so amazingly soft, so inviting. Just looking at those lips made Will want to kiss him; there had been one point last night when they'd been sitting on the couch, watching a movie, when he had wanted to simply lean over and do so.

But he'd managed to hold himself back, though just barely. Afterwards, he had wondered if he should have just gone ahead and done it, and to hell with the consequences. If Sherlock wanted him in the way that Will thought he did, it wouldn't be a problem.

Why was he so aggressive with this man? Why did Sherlock make him feel things that no one else had ever had the power to do? Why had these feelings suddenly kicked in with a man he had only recently met, and how had they grown so strong so quickly?

He didn't have the answers to those questions; he only knew that the feelings were there, and that he was more and more ready to act on them. Will was sure that Sherlock wanted him to do so; he was simply waiting for what felt like the right time.

That time was coming soon, and he knew it. Maybe Sherlock could feel it, too. Will didn't know when the right time would come, but he was going to go with what he felt. When ti seemed that the time was right, that was when something would happen between them.

He and Sherlock were on the same wavelength. They would know when the time was right; they would feel it. He was going to close his eyes and jump right in, and he wasn't going to be afraid. He was going to immerse himself in this new life.

A life that Sherlock was a part of, a life that Sherlock had given to him. Just the thought of sharing the rest of his life with Sherlock made Will's lips curve in a smile; his heart felt as though it was lifting, starting to take flight.

This was going to be a good life. He didn't doubt that in the least. It would be a life shared with someone he loved, someone who he knew was going to come to mean more to him than anyone ever had before. It was a life he looked forward to living.

He was already on the path to starting that life. It was only a matter of waiting for the right time to take the next step, and Will couldn't help feeling that, even though he didn't know just when that time would be there, that it was already very close at hand.