Author: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Fandoms: Hannibal
/Sherlock
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Will Graham or Sherlock Holmes, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
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Sherlock smiled to himself as he walked down the street towards the parking lot where he'd left Will's car; he had come into the town of Vienna to get a few last-minute things. He was on his way back to the house now, to spend a last hour or so there with Will before they left.He had never been as happy to leave any place as he was to be leaving Wolf Trap. It was past time that Will got out of here and started a new life, a life that was better suited to him and would make him happy. That was never going to happen here.
And now that they had found each other, they would explore that new life together. He would try his best to make Will happy every day of their lives; he might have to work at it, but he was determined to bring Will all of the light and warmth and love that he had never known.
"Hello, Mr. Holmes."
He looked up as a man blocked his path, a frown marring his brow. He hadn't expected to meet anyone here that he knew, or who knew that he'd come into town. The only way this man could have known he would be here was if he'd been watching them.
It had to be Lecter, of course. Who else would step so boldly into his path to confront him? He had never met the man before, but he had seen pictures, so he knew well enough who was standing here in front of him, blocking the way to the car.
He studied the man in front of him, not liking what he saw. Thin lips, small, squinty eyes, pale skin. He was wiry, and looked as though he had a lot of strength, but Sherlock was sure that if it came down to a fight, he himself would be the ultimate victor.
He hated this man, with a bitter hatred that he was sure would only grow with time. He wanted Hannibal Lecter behind bars, where he belonged -- where he had tried to keep Will. This man was the criminal, not Will. He deserved to be in disgrace, to lose his freedom.
This man was pure evil. Sherlock knew it, and he was on his guard.
"Hello, Dr. Lecter." He kept his voice low and matter-of-fact; this man didn't intimidate him. Lecter only made him angry; he was furious that this bastard had apparently been watching Will's house, and that he had the nerve to confront either of them.
"I believe that you are taking Will to London with you. That is not acceptable," Hannibal told him, shaking his head in mock sorrow. "I cannot let you do that, Mr. Holmes. I am Will's psychiatrist, and he is an unstable man. He belongs here, under my care."
Sherlock narrowed his eyes, holding his anger in check with difficulty. "You mean that you believe Will should be in prison, where you can keep an eye on him and try to drive him insane and destroy him for your own amusement. That isn't going to happen."
Hannibal's eyes narrowed further, and Sherlock could see nothing in those dark depths but evil. He knew that this man meant Will harm; he could feel the malevolence that seemed to seep from him. He almost took a step back, not wanting to be too close to such evil.
But he didn't move back; he stood his ground, refusing to back down. If Hannibal thought that he would be able to intimidate him, then he'd be sadly disappointed. Sherlock gazed back at him, keeping his features impassive; he wouldn't reveal what he was feeling.
He felt nothing but revulsion.
He might not have been able to prove it yet, but he knew that this man was the Chesapeake Ripper that Will had been searching for. He was absolutely positive that Hannibal was the killer; he could see it in those eyes, feel it in that penetrating gaze.
Hannibal Lecter was a dangerous man .No one was safe around him; Sherlock could feel that he was a completely conscienceless individual, someone who cared nothing for human life, no matter how much he might protest to the contrary.
Will would never have been safe around him, even if Hannibal hadn't plotted to frame him for murder. He was glad that he was getting Will out of this place, out of the situation he'd been in, and was taking him across the ocean to a place of relative safety for him.
He wasn't going to let this man get anywhere near Will again. He would protect his boyfriend at any cost -- and he would make sure that Lecter was never able to poison Will's mind again. He was sure that this man was a large part of the reason why Will was so unsure of himself.
Lecter was poison. He didn't doubt that for one second. And that poison wasn't going to be allowed to affect Will any more. Will didn't belong to this man; he never had. He'd always been his own person, capable of making his own choices.
This evil bastard had tried to control Will, to take his choices away from him. He'd even succeeded in taking Will's freedom away. But that was in the past, Sherlock told himself firmly. He was never going to hurt Will again. Those days were over.
He would do what he had to do to keep Will safe.
"Will belongs to me." He could see that Hannibal had to grind out the words between gritted teeth; he was apparently a lot more angry about Will leaving with Sherlock than they had realized he would be. "You have no right to spirit him away."
"I"m not 'spiriting him away,'" Sherlock said blandly, raising an eyebrow. He wasn't going to let the angry, overblown bluster of this idiot intimidate him. And really, Hannibal's rage was amusing. He was like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away. "It was his decision to leave."
"Will was born to be mine," Hannibal told him, his voice low and menacing. "I hold the keys to who he is. I can be the instrument of his salvation, if I so choose. Or his destruction. Taking him from me will only result in his being destroyed that much sooner."
"He'll be destroyed if he stays here," Sherlock replied, his voice clipped. He was growing angry now; how dare this arrogant, heinous bastard claim that he could do anything good for Will? He was evil, rotted to the core; he was nothing but a sick, twisted miasma.
"Will belongs here with me," Hannibal said, his voice returning to the even keel that it had been on when he had first spoken. "Will was born to be mine -- born to be my slave. He exists for my pleasure, Mr. Holmes. And I will make sure that he fulfills that role."
With those words, and another glare at Sherlock, he turned and walked away.
Sherlock merely stood there, looking after him, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He had never wanted to hit someone so badly in his life; he wanted to run after Lecter, punch him, and make that horribly ugly face even uglier with some well-placed bruises.
Will was no one's slave, he fumed silently as he trudged towards the car. He was his own man, capable of making his own decisions. He wasn't the sort of person who could be easily manipulated; the only reason that had been done before was because he had been ill.
An illness that had been exacerbated by Lecter, Sherlock told himself angrily, slamming the car door and jamming the key into the ignition. What Lecter had done, letting Will's meningitis go untreated, could have killed him. Will was lucky to be alive.
Sherlock stepped on the gas, then braked quickly to keep from hitting another car that zoomed by on the road. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a deep breath. Anger wasn't going to do him any good. He had to put it aside.
And anyway, he had won. Will was leaving with him.
Will would never have to face that monster again; He was being taken to safety, to a place where that bastard couldn't harm him. And if Lecter dared to follow up on his oblique threats, if he dared to come after Will, then Sherlock would stop him. Permanently.
He would have no qualms about that, none at all. He hated Hannibal Lecter, and knew that the world would be a better place without him. The man was vile; he had framed Will for murder, and Sherlock had every intention of proving that.
But for now, he thought as he eased the car into traffic and turned onto the road that led back to Wolf Trap, he and Will, along with Winston, were going to London. Will was going to start a whole new life with him -- and it would be much, much better than the life he was leaving behind.
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