Title: From the Ground Up
Author: angstytimelord
Pairing: Will Graham/Sherlock Holmes
Fandoms: Hannibal/Sherlock
Rating: PG-13
Table: 1drabble
Prompt: 23, Defeat
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.

***

He'd never felt so utterly defeated in his life.

Will knew that Sherlock wouldn't want him to look at his current situation in that light, but he couldn't help doing so. He didn't really know which way to turn.

He knew that Sherlock had some kind of plan about taking him to London and getting him a job with Scotland Yard, but somehow, everything seemed so far away and improbable at the moment. He wasn't going to turn Sherlock down, but it all just felt .... unreachable.

It wasn't, of course, and he knew that. He had the feeling that if anyone could make things happen, it was this man, and that Sherlock would carry him along.

But at the moment, he just felt .... numb.

Everything felt so hopeless. Hannibal and Jack had apparently conspired to rob him of whatever life he'd had here, turning everything upside down. He would never be able to teach at the FBI Academy again, and he was obviously of no use in the field.

No, now that Jack was done with him, he'd thrown him to the wolves .... and the chief wolf was in the persona of Hannibal Lecter. A man he now wanted to avoid.

He even feared Hannibal, a little. No, more than a little. He was sure that if he stayed here in Wolf Trap, that wolf would be at his throat before long.

Will sighed aloud, the sound loud in the silence of his bedroom. Sherlock was asleep in the other bedroom; at least, Will assumed he was asleep. Sherlock had told him that he didn't sleep much, and that he would be awake with a book for a while.

Will didn't think he could sleep, either.

He hadn't been able to sleep when he was behind bars; he should feel safer and more comfortable here at home, in his own bed. But somehow, he didn't.

This had ceased to feel like home. It felt like a shell of the place he'd been taken away from; it wasn't really where he belonged any more. Maybe Sherlock was right, and he should start that new life in England, try to rebuild from the ground up.

He closed his eyes, giving in to the inevitable. He would have to start over. He had met utter defeat here, and at this point, he really didn't have any other choice.

The prospect of a new life was sounding better all the time.

***