Sherliam Oneshots

Your Mistake.

Summary: Every so often William and Sherlock 'happen' to cross paths and when they do, they play cards

CW: implied sexual content

Sherlock sat atop a rickety barstool at a dingy pub; the place reeked of cheap alcohol. The lights were dim, causing his eyes to dilate.
In the corner, a group of people played poker; they filled the pub with laughter and cheers.

They were too loud in Sherlock's opinion. He was starting to get a headache.

'I shouldn't be here' Sherlock thought, running his hand across his face.

"Long night?" The bartender asked while polishing a glass with a hand towel.

"S'pose you could say that," Sherlock replied.

"Here to drown your sorrows then? What can I get for ya?"

"Scotch."

"Make that two." Another voice said from behind Sherlock.

Sherlock's heartbeat picked up. Oh that voice, how he knew it well. He turned on his seat to meet the voice.

"Liam, what a surprise." Sherlock said in a tone that sounded as if he wasn't really surprised.

"Mister Holmes," William greeted with a nod and sat down beside Sherlock on the empty barstool next to him.

"I didn't know you were in London, least of all 'ere in the rougher parts of town," Sherlock spoke, tapping his fingers along the table.

The bartender set their drinks in front of them. William picked up his Scotch and swirled it around, the ice clinking against the glass.

"My older brother invited me to the opera, so I took a week's leave to be here," William said, resting his chin on his hand.

"I take it you like the opera, then?"

"That's more of Albert's forte, I much prefer the theatre."

"There's a difference?"

William gazed at Sherlock, blinking a few times, before huffing out a laugh.

"My, Doctor Watson wasn't exaggerating when he wrote that your knowledge, aside from anything that may help you in your investigations, was limited."

Sherlock only grumbled and took a swig of his drink.

"I could teach you, you know, about the dramatic arts. I'm well versed in the subject."

"Haaah, I'm sure you are, Liam, but I'll pass on that one."

"What a shame. If not that, then how about something else?" William suggested and leaned in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, his intrigue piqued. "Something else you say? What are you suggestin'?"

"A simple game of cards." William said with one of his signature closed-eyed smiles.

Ah.

Sherlock's mind was racing because he knew "playing cards" meant more than that. No, it was their secret code, an invitation to a different play altogether. A game of strategy and hidden desires.

"Oh," Sherlock said, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Cards you say? Sounds interestin'."

William nodded "Of course, not here, It's too crowded to have a private game."

"How about Baker Street then, John's out visiting family, so we'll have 221B all to ourselves." The look on William's face told Sherlock that he already knew that.