"Who's that?" Sherlock asked.
"I don't know, probably a bloody solicitor." Mr. Holmes growled, waddling over to get the door. Sherlock couldn't see, but he knew that once the door opened, the silence that followed must be filled with an intense glare of dislike.
"Mr. Trevor, whatever could we do for you?" Mr. Holmes growled, his jaw sounding tight.
"Victor?" Sherlock asked, maybe putting a little bit too much acting into his voice, because he sounded a bit like a teenage girl. He saw his mother in the kitchen, watching nonchalantly as she dried the dishes. Sherlock walked over to the door, where Victor was standing, in his usual army uniform and hat, smiling down at Mr. Holmes with a bit of a fire in his eyes.
"Why, I'm here to pick up Sherlock." He insisted.
"Why?" Mr. Holmes asked, his fists clenched.
"We're to see a movie, as a sort of goodbye." Victor said, his voice as light as a feather.
"You're not taking my son anywhere." Mr. Holmes growled.
"Oh come on dear, let him, this is the last time." Mrs. Holmes insisted.
"You set this up didn't you?" Mr. Holmes growled.
"I might've." Mrs. Holmes said, trying to sound innocent but looking a bit scared. Mr. Holmes drew himself to his full height (which was still a head shorter than Victor) and turned to face the solider in the door.
"This last time boy, and after this, I never want to see you in this house again." he insisted.
"As you wish sir." Victor agreed.
"Never again." Mr. Holmes insisted.
"I heard you the first time, sir." Victor pointed out, and Sherlock couldn't help but smile at his daring.
"Sherlock, get your coat, get this scum out of my sight." Mr. Holmes decided, walking away with a huff. Sherlock nodded, scrambling to get his trench coat off the hook and pull it on before his father changed his decision.
"Have a nice night Mrs. Holmes." Victor said, tipping his hat as Sherlock practically ran out of the house.
"You too Victor!" she said loudly as Victor closed the door and joined Sherlock down the sidewalk.
"Slow down there Sherlock." Victor insisted. Sherlock stopped in the dirt road, staring at a dark green car sitting in the road.
"Is this yours?" he asked in amazement.
"How else are we to get there?" Victor asked, going over to the passenger seat and opening the door for Sherlock to get in.
"You can drive?" Sherlock asked.
"Of course." Victor laughed.
"I walk everywhere." Sherlock shrugged, getting into the car and waiting for Victor to take his seat.
"Understandable, of course." Victor agreed. "But you need to drive to be in the military." Sherlock's good mood was ruined by the mention of the military, the very thing that was spreading them apart.
"I'm sorry." Victor decided. He turned on the engine and pulled around, heading back to town.
"Wouldn't the movie theater be bombed?" Sherlock asked.
"One of the few buildings to survive, actually. I would've taken you to a restaurant, preferably the bar in which we officially met, but that's been destroyed too." he sighed.
"And you won't take me to the school." Sherlock agreed with a sort of laugh.
"Never." Victor agreed. It took not even three minutes to get from Sherlock's house to town, which was almost unthinkable considering it took Sherlock about twenty to walk. The town was still in terrible condition, but most of the rubble had been cleared, swept into where they could only guess was its usual foundation. The roads were in ruins, the grass in the park was all ripped up and the trees bent over and burned. But things were getting repaired as well. Some of the houses had wooden infrastructures built up already, repairs were being made, rooves repaired, fire damage fixed, they were getting back on their feet.
"16 people died that night." Victor sighed, pulling up on a curb of the movie theater. There were a lot of people flooding in and out, since it was the only place to go for entertainment or leisure, it seemed as if the whole town had come.
"We saved who we could." Sherlock insisted.
"I'm only happy you weren't number seventeen." Victor insisted, turning off the engine and looking at Sherlock with such love, but also such sadness in his eyes.
"So am I." Sherlock agreed. Victor got out of the car, and Sherlock followed, meeting him on the sidewalk and pulling his coat around himself to fight the bitter wind.
"So, what would you like to see?" Victor asked. Sherlock scanned the posters, nothing really seemed good, then again, he wasn't much for movies.
"I don't mind really." He insisted.
"Well, what do you want to see, something funny, something action packed, something romantic?" he asked.
"I don't care." Sherlock shrugged.
"Well, neither do I, this is your night." Victor assured.
"How about The Wolf Man?" Sherlock suggested. Victor smiled, looking at the old black and white movie poster that was on the side of the building.
"The Wolf Man it is." He decided. They bought their tickets (Victor insisted on paying for Sherlock's, even though he flatly refused) and went in. Nearly everyone they knew was there, school kids swarming the entrances, grownups trying to wade through the masses, workers looking like they were going to start mowing down the viewers with a tank.
"Got a couple of the last tickets." Victor muttered to Sherlock as they walked inside.
"Hi Victor!" said a girl who seemed delighted to see him.
"Hello Margret." Victor sighed, keeping his head down, quickening his pace. Sherlock heard a lot of people (mostly girls) say hello to him, and some guys muttering about how much of a loser Sherlock was, or how pathetic Victor was. All in all, it was the typical topics of conversation whenever either of them went into public. Victor bought them popcorn, Sherlock keeping his distance, as if he didn't really want people to see them together. Not that he was embarrassed, of course not; he just didn't want what little brains those people had to start working. Finally they got seats towards the back of the theater, some of the last two seats that were next to each other, and watched a couple of the trailers and war highlights before the movie began. They shyly picked out of the popcorn, neither sure if it was alright to make any form of affection in such a public area. There was definitely not going to be any snuggling, to Sherlock's disappointment. The movie started slowly; honestly it was really a dumb movie, extremely predictable. The only time Sherlock jumped (and Victor as well) was when the Wolf Man jumped out from behind a wall or something, massacring the poor civilians and ripping them up with the best special effects the times could provide. But there was more than a jump scare, because as soon as they both jumped, they both reached out for each other, is if on impulse, and their hands interlocked. And they stayed there. This made the whole thing a lot more enjoyable, it was dark, and unless you looked really hard you'd never know that their fingers were intertwined, you'd never know anything out of the ordinary was going on. So, when the movie ended, Sherlock had to admit that he was a little bit disappointed, and the lights turned on and they hastily parted. Victor got to his feet, carrying the empty paper popcorn tub and stretching out his long legs.
"Well, that was alright I suppose." He decided.
"Not bad." Sherlock agreed reluctantly, not wanting to tell Victor that it was actually quite bad.
"It was terrible." Victor decided with a small smile.
"Ya, it was." Sherlock agreed.
"But that's alright; it's not about the movie." Victor decided. Sherlock got to his feet as well, stretching out a little bit and readjusting his jacket, which had gotten popcorn bits all over it.
"Off we go then." Victor decided, leading the way up the crowded isles and into the entrance hall. It was once more swarming, people raving about how good or bad the movie was, how much they jumped, and making fun of each other for screaming. Victor and Sherlock attracted glances of confusion from their peers, wondering what on earth the two biggest losers were doing in such a public place. Some people muttered about how Victor was leaving soon, others just sniggered in disgust. Sherlock kept his head down, keeping his distance from Victor once more, and continued outside. The car was parked around the corner, so they walked together in the darkness, Sherlock pulling on his coat but Victor seeming surprisingly unaffected by the temperature.
"Victor Trevor." said a lonely voice, the voice that only matched one person's description. They turned to see Jim Moriarty standing, half concealed in shadow, next to the movie theater wall, as if he were waiting for them to walk out into the light.
"Jim." Victor agreed. Sherlock really hoped that was the last of their conversation, he didn't want to see any fights go down. Victor had gotten all tense, and stared Jim down for a moment.
"I heard you were going away for a while, going off to war, going to be a hero, it always was your dream, wasn't it?" Jim asked in a very pitchy voice. Sherlock couldn't tell his motives, did he want to pick one last fight, or was he genuinely interested in Victor's leaving? Sherlock didn't know which one he'd prefer, considering the history between these two.
"Yes Jim, it was." Victor agreed.
"Well, I'd know all about your dreams, wouldn't I Victor? I do recall you telling them to me." Jim pointed out.
"Where's Sebastian?" Victor asked after a tense moment of silence.
"Oh, Sebby's at home, no need to worry." Jim assured. Sherlock felt like he wanted to throw punches now, his defensive boyfriend instincts were flaring.
"Maybe you should join him." Sherlock suggested, and Jim's black eyes turned on him quickly, like a dead spotlight.
"Ah, Sherlock, the fresh meat. Tell me Sherlock, what did he promise you? Money, fame, or just his 'undying' love. He promised me that too Sherlock, we don't all get what we want." Jim warned.
"You're the one that left Jim." Victor pointed out.
"Oh, and seeing how you've grown, I do regret it. Sebby's nice, of course, but you, hmm, you're just splendid." Jim insisted.
"Well, I'm sorry, but I'm taken." Victor insisted, taking another step towards Sherlock and grabbing his hand, whether defensively or in fear, Sherlock had no way of knowing.
"I know Victor, I know. Young love, isn't it just...disgusting?" Jim asked, taking a large step so that he was staring right into Victor's eyes. Sherlock tensed up, wanting to pull Victor away from him, this wasn't right, Victor was his!
"Well, I just came to say goodbye..." he muttered, standing on his tiptoes and pressing a kiss on Victor's cheek, "My dear."
"Goodbye Jim." Victor agreed, not taking a step back, not doing much of anything to prevent Jim for going for more permanent goals. But, to Sherlock's relief, he stepped back, winking at Sherlock and disappearing down the sidewalk. Sherlock really didn't know what to do, but he didn't have to say anything because Victor walked around and got in the driver's seat, starting to the engine and letting Sherlock clamber into the car after him.
"What was that about?" Sherlock asked.
"I think he made his motives quite clear." Victor sighed. "Disgusting." That made Sherlock feel a little bit better as Victor hit the gas and drove down the road.
"So, he still fancies you, does he?" Sherlock asked.
"It would appear so." Victor agreed, sighing.
"You don't, you know, like him anymore?" Sherlock asked.
"Never Sherlock, never." Victor insisted, smiling over at Sherlock, who was feeling quite small.
"Oh, that's good." Sherlock decided, and it was good, it was very good. They followed the familiar path home, out of the town on the little dirt roads, deserted to the point of sadness. It felt, for a moment, that they were the only two people on earth. Sherlock was watching the same familiar trees go past, starting to see the lights of his house on the horizon when suddenly Victor took a turn off onto a dirt road, branching off to the right, the opposite way of Sherlock's house.
"Where are you going?" Sherlock asked.
"Somewhere safe." Victor assured, driving off through a path of trees and tall grass. Sherlock needn't be suspicious, of course Victor wasn't going to hurt him, or was he? Maybe he's been lying this whole time, and he had persuaded people to love him and then deliver them to his cannibalistic parents! Sherlock looked over at Victor in fear, but the solider looked more nervous than anything, not scared, not guilty. Just nervous. Finally he pulled up in a small parking lot on the side of the road, away from practically everything and concealed in a small grove of trees.
"What are we doing here Victor?" Sherlock asked nervously, looking out the window, where not a light was present other than the headlights and the stars.
"Well, I mean, I'm leaving soon." Victor muttered.
"I'm aware." Sherlock agreed.
"I just thought, you know, we could say...goodbye." He muttered. Sherlock suddenly felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, and he had trouble taking in normal sized breaths.
"You mean...you mean...?" he muttered, not sure what Victor meant, but also not so sure he wanted to find out.
"No one's coming, no one's, expecting us." Victor muttered, looking down nervously at the steering wheel, as if ashamed of something.
"Victor..." Sherlock muttered, the only word that seemed to come to mind.
"I mean, I'm not...I'm not forcing you, you can say no, of course, but I just thought, I just thought that if I die out there..." he left it at that. Sherlock's entire body was numb with horror, but he wasn't sure if that was a good horror or a bad horror. He surely hoped Victor wasn't going to turn into a wolf, which would be quite bad.
"I...uh..." Sherlock could only stiffly nod his head, as if too terrified to actually do anything. Victor forced a calming smile, as if trying to calm Sherlock down. Of course he could tell that Sherlock was terrified, of course he could tell that Sherlock hadn't a clue what to do. So, as usual, Victor silenced him with a kiss. He leaned over, placing one of his beautiful hands on Sherlock's neck (his hands still smelled faintly like movie theater popcorn) and kissing him like only Victor could. Sherlock should've loved this, he should've loved the fact that he could finally kiss Victor without any fear, he knew that his parents wouldn't walk in, he knew that Mrs. Turner wouldn't come with tea, in fact, no one was around for miles. It was just the two of them, and right now, they felt like they were one. But Sherlock didn't love it, he loved Victor, he loved Victor's kiss, but he just didn't want to think that this was the last time they were ever going to kiss; this was their farewell, the last hurrah before Victor packed up his things and walked straight out of Sherlock's life, forever. And he'd leave him to be with his family, taking his only friend, his only love, his only light away and never bringing it back, forcing Sherlock to live eternally in the dark of what could've been. And before Sherlock knew it, tears started sliding down from his eyes, tears of remorse, of sorrow, because even though this was such a lovely kiss, it felt too much like a goodbye.
"You're crying." Victor muttered, pulling away ever so slightly. Sherlock nodded, hastily whipping away his tears. "Why are you crying?" Victor asked lightly.
"I can't help but think of this as a goodbye." Sherlock admitted.
"Sherlock, you shouldn't be sad, you should be happy. This is the last time we're going to see each other, embrace it." Victor insisted.
"I don't...I don't want to be alone." Sherlock admitted, feeling more tears splash down his eyes as he stared into Victor's sympathetic face.
"I'm not going to leave you alone, I'd never do that." Victor assured.
"Then why are you leaving?" Sherlock asked, his voice cracking through his tears. "Why are you leaving me, with my father, with my family, with Jim and Sebastian, why are you leaving me to stare through an empty window and know no one is going to come through?"
"You know, you know I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to, you know the last thing I want is to leave you alone." Victor insisted.
"Then why?" Sherlock forced.
"Because as much as I love you, as much as my heart aches for every second I can get with you, I know that I have to protect not just myself, but you, and your family, and my family, and our entire country from the threat that will engulf us if we don't fight back. And I will return, when they are obliterated, and when they're wiped off the face of this earth, I will come back for you, and we can leave. We can run away wherever we want, because I love you." He insisted, pressing another soft kiss onto Sherlock's lips. "I love you so much."
"I love you too." Sherlock agreed, more tears falling onto his cheeks. Victor nodded, stroking Sherlock's curls and continuing the kiss, slow, loving, everything that Sherlock could ever want in a kiss, but yet again...
"Could you maybe, just, hold me?" he suggested, feeling like a child even as he asked it. Victor pulled away once again, an air of disappointment in his eyes, but he nodded. Sherlock leaned into Victor from across the armrest, letting Victor's warm, familiar arms wrap around his chest, breathing in the scent, that beautiful scent, and trying to convince himself that this would last forever. That they could just sit here and it would be 10:23 at night forever and ever and ever, and Victor would never leave, and Sherlock would never be alone, never again. But even as Victor ran his fingers through Sherlock's curls, even as Sherlock let his head fall back on the soldier's shoulder, as Victor softly whispered his love into Sherlock's ear, Sherlock knew that this would end, because as soon as the thought it would last forever, it changed to 10:24.