AN: This is a crossover between the shows Hannibal and BBC's Sherlock. I'm still finishing up my Les Mis fanfic but I wanted to get this out while it was still on my mind. I hope you like it and reviews are greatly appreciated. Set before the finale of season 2 in Sherlock.

Will stayed close behind Hannibal on the crowded streets of London. He really hadn't wanted to come but Jack had insisted. He was just thankful that he hadn't come alone and that Hannibal had been the one to accompany him. Abigail had also accompanied them but currently remained at the hotel. Alana hadn't wanted her to but she wasn't her patient anymore and she wasn't her mother either so it wasn't like she could tell her what to do.

The FBI believed that the current serial killer they were trying to catch had moved to London and Will was to work alongside Scotland Yard with a Detective Inspector Lestrade and a Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Will was not looking forward to this and the bustling streets weren't helping.

Currently, Hannibal and himself were to meet Sherlock Holmes at 221B Baker Street and then accompany him to the most recent crime scene; only discovered ten minutes ago.

At seven o'clock in the morning and another sleepless night, Will was not in a pleasant mood and he had a feeling that it wouldn't change as the day went by. He wasn't sure who he expected once he knocked on the door but he definitely wasn't expecting the old woman who answered the door.

"Ah, you must be Mr. Graham and Mr. Lecter."

"I'm Will Graham and it's actually Dr. Lecter," Will corrected, his voice uneasy as he looked anywhere but the woman's eyes. "And you are?"

"Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock should be down any second. Do come in," she said and moved aside to allow them to past.

Will looked around the flat. The place seemed tidy enough down here but there was no telling what the rest of the place could look like. Suddenly, a short, blonde man came down the stairs, swiftly followed by a taller, curly dark haired man in a coat.

"Sherlock Holmes," the taller man said. He didn't offer a hand which Will was grateful of. "And you must be . . ." he paused for a second and then said, "yes, you're Will Graham and your Dr. Lecter."

"How do you know he's a doctor?" asked the blonde man. "The email only said Mr. Hannibal Lecter—"

"John, I could go on and on about how I know but I'm sure Lestrade is getting antsy at the moment," said Sherlock. Then, slightly under his breath, "He probably deserves to get antsy though. After thinking they need another consultant. Uh."

Catching his comment, Hannibal said, "Not fond of the FBI Mr. Holmes? Or are you just narcissistic?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to argue the point but stopped as he finally really looked at Hannibal. It had only taken one quick glance for him to know that the man was a doctor. Now that he was actually seeing him, a frown appeared on Sherlock's face.

His eyes roaming over Hannibal, Sherlock was reminded of James Moriarty. Like him, Hannibal was nearly impossible to read. He couldn't see anything that would tell him about the man's past or daily habits. All he could see was that he took very good care of himself and had an . . . interesting diet.

Of what that diet consisted Sherlock couldn't tell though.

"Have you become a mute now Mr. Holmes?" Hannibal suddenly asked a smirk on his face. His voice brought Sherlock back to the present and the detective was soon glaring at him.

Finally he said, "You're a psychiatrist aren't you."

Hannibal smiled again, normal on the outside but underneath was a cold, dark grin.

Sherlock ignored this and finally turned to Will Graham. Whereas Hannibal wasn't afraid to say what was on his mind and was clearly outgoing, Will was definitely the opposite. Watching him twitch and look anywhere except for a person's eyes, Sherlock quickly decided that he was slightly autistic and unstable.

"Why do you keep staring at me?" Will then asked, uncomfortable under the detective's gaze.

"Just curious about what type of person you are," replied Sherlock. John knew that Sherlock was going to go on one of his rants and tried to intercede but only failed miserably. Sherlock said, "You are slightly autistic and most certainly unstable. You dislike eye contact and aren't good at socializing with people even though you would like to. You live alone with five, maybe six, dogs. You're also a teacher as well as a consultant for the FBI. You aren't close to your family either, no siblings, single parent. And, you have a personality disorder."

After a moment of silence, Will finally got out in a shaky breath, "It's not so much a personality disorder as an over active imagination."

"There's always something," muttered Sherlock looking extremely disappointed in himself. He didn't seem to notice the effect he had on Will.

It was nearly impossible to stop shaking. Will felt like he had just been unmade, like his very being had been picked apart right in front of him. If only a few seconds of looking at him could tell Sherlock all of that, then could he see the darker side of Will?

Hannibal knew about his darker side. In a way, he'd been the one to make Will realize it. However, Hannibal had gone through many of these experiences beside Will and Will had also opened up to Hannibal too.

Sherlock shouldn't have been able to know all that he had and Will doubted he'd simply looked him up on the internet or something. Will had to work with Sherlock until they caught this killer which meant spending days with the detective if not more than a week. What would Sherlock do if he knew of this darker side of him? Would he tell anyone? Scotland Yard? The FBI?

When Will finally started to pay attention to what was going on around him again, he found that the shorter one, John, was yelling at Sherlock.

"What have I told you about doing that?" he cried out, an accusing finger pointed at the detective. "If he had wanted you to know those things he would've told you himself! Really Sherlock."

"I can't turn it off John. You know that."

"No but you can shut your mouth," replied John, causing a hurt look to appear on Sherlock's face.

Hannibal sighed, his face revealing nothing as he said, "Maybe we should be on our way now. I'm sure the Detective Inspector is wondering where we are."

"Yes, of course," muttered Sherlock. "The location is near the intersection of Shorts Gardens and Endell Street. We can take a cab there. They have most of the area around the crime scene blocked off anyway so we'll walk the rest of the way to where the incident happened."

John looked at Will and though he hadn't been able to figure out everything Sherlock had he saw the unease that went across his face at sharing a cab with all four of them. He quickly said, "We can take separate cabs as well. Don't want it to get to crowded."

"Excellent," said Hannibal. "We'll see you there then. Come along William."

Will followed Hannibal out the door and, allowing them some time to get ahead, Sherlock and John then followed a little later. Hannibal and Will stepped into a cab as Sherlock tried to flag one down. Taking almost a minute, they finally got one and climbed in.

Once in there, John said, "If you knew he was unstable then why spout all that out?"

"Why didn't you ask this while at the flat?"

"Because he was really uncomfortable! Sherlock, you can be such . . . such an idiot to human emotion sometimes!" cried out John.

"But aren't you the least bit curious John? There's obviously something wrong with the man so why is he employed by the FBI? Also, despite the fact that the FBI know how I work, they still feel the need to send a consultant."

"Maybe they wanted their men to still stay with the case. I mean, it was their case to begin with Sherlock."

"If that was it then they would've sent just a regular every day agent. There's clearly something about this one that makes him special and I look forward to finding out," replied Sherlock.

"Well, try to make it a bit less obvious. If the entire list of things you said about him is true—"

"It is."

"—then I doubt we really want to make him upset or angry," John finished.

As John and Sherlock discussed Will, the very man was currently hunkered into a defensive position in his own cab. His arms were wrapped around his legs with his head in between his knees, his breath coming in and out extremely quickly. Will was ignoring the cabbie driver, Hannibal's hand gently pressed onto the small of his back.

"He's alright isn't he?" asked the cabbie man. "If he's drunk he better not—"

"I assure you he's not drunk," Hannibal simply replied. "He'll be fine in a few minutes."

He let his hand gently massage Will's back until Will finally said, "How? How did he do that?"

"Interesting isn't," murmured Hannibal.

"Interesting?! I feel unmade. I feel like someone just jumped into my head without me asking and not what you do. You're like a visitor in my head. It was almost like Sherlock pushed me inside and was me. He didn't do that to you. You don't understand how I feel."

Hannibal didn't say anything to that. He wondered how far the detective had gotten pass his outer wall. He was pretty sure that the detective wouldn't have stayed quite if he had figured out what he was but nevertheless, how much did he know?

Remaining silent for the rest of the time, Will was finally able to pull himself together as they arrived at the scene. A few seconds later, Sherlock and John arrived as well, stepping out of their own cab.