Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was in a sunny afternoon that William understood he wanted to die. Sure, he always knew from the start that his plan involved his inevitable death. But this day, with the wind in his face and the chilliness of the park he was in, he felt an inevitable urge to end it all.

Of course, he didn't even think about telling this to his brothers. What good would it out, except make them worry? They already have enough on their mind.

Being as smart as he is can be considered lucky by many, but it is a burden most of the time. You see things other people don't notice or that take them longer to understand, and that means you're never truly understood. He never found anyone that matched his mind to escape the loneliness of that life. Or, maybe one person.

The detective Holmes seemed to be as intelligent as himself and for that, he held him in great estim. Maybe he could understand what the Lord of Crime was thinking.

But William isn't one to talk about feelings, or have more conversations with the detective than necessary in his great plan to destroy their society’s evil.

But he must at least admit to himself that the…feeling to which he just found the name to wouldn't help him in his work, except maybe on the final act of course.

“Liam! Didn't think I'd find you there. Why the sad face?”

Sighhh. Of course he would find a way to meet William at this unfortunate time. Trying to hide the frown on his face to go back to his usual calm smile, William turned around.

“Hello detective. I'm quite surprised myself to see you in this place during this cold afternoon. And you're mistaken: I'm not frowning, just reflecting. You must not be used to do that often, this would explain your surprise” Hoping the joke will get Sherlock Holmes to quit asking him questions.

Sherlock let out a genuine laugh. “Always fun to be around you my dear Liam.”

Mr. Holmes didn't ask for William’s permission to call him so frankticly but William, maybe from the sadness he felt or just who was addressing to him this way, just didn't care.

Sherlock continued “I was actually going to your mansion to see you, but it's better to find you here without your brother staring at me like he will kill me with the butter knife.”

William James Moriarty sighed again. Even though he spent his entire life protecting his younger brother Louis, it didn't mean Louis wouldn't act the same way about William. But since their last encounter with Sherlock in the train with the promess to meet again, Louis have been nothing but against even talking about Holmes. Maybe he sees the way Sherlock lights up when seeing Liam or it's just his instincts talking, but Louis hates that man with all his heart and will go to any end to protect his brother.

Still, Louis could try to hide his emotions against the detective better. He’ll have to discuss it with him later.

“Yeah, sorry about Louis. He can be very.. defensive to protect the people he loves. So? What is it you want to ask me?” The pain in his stomach accentuates, his feeling of melancholy with it.

Well, talking to Sherlock doesn't seem to make him feel better, if anything he just feels more empty. Maybe Sherlock notices because he drops his usual smirk and frowns, looking worried.

“Uhh.. William? Liam? Are you sure you're alright? We can sit down if you want. You look awefully pale.” The concern in Sherlock’s voice was real and Liam could see panick starting to rise on the detective’s face. Did he look that bad? He set a mental reminder to try hide his small breakdowns better on future occasions, he couldn't let something that futile ruin the plan he concocted years ago.

“Yeah I'm..fine. Just a little tired after some things I had to take care of, I didn't sleep a lot recently.” Hoping this excuse is enough to stop Sherlock’s great deduction from finding anything more on his face. After all, he really had been quite busy lately, talking care of a lord that would torture his servants. The group spent the last few weeks gathering informations and taking care of him for good.

“That's not healthy William, it will ruin your beautiful princess skin.” Even though Sherlock was trying to make William smile, the second one could still hear concern in his voice. The detective also called him William and not Liam, as if it was an important moment.

Against himself, William chucked lightly but didn't answer. He could feel his hands and arms trembling, still when he looked down at them there wasn't a hint of movement on them. He could feel himself panicking a little, still he tried to hide it from the man standing before him.

Aware of William’s sudden change of attitude or not, Sherlock talked again, panicking a little more. “Lets just sit down a minute ok? Whatever you need to be taken care of I'm sure it's not as important as your health”.

And oh! Sherlock couldn't be more wrong. This plan was more important than everything, even more than Moriarty’s life, a life he didn't value much now to think of it.

He still agreed to the statement, as his legs seemed to stop working before him. Luckily there was many public bench in that park and both men went to sit down, Sherlock trying his best to support Moriarty by taking his left arm on his own to guide him. He instinctively understood the trouble William had to walk, and how he did, even himself had no idea. William didn't complain as the touch of their arms calmed him a little.

They sat there in silence for around ten minutes, both lost in their thoughts. Maybe thinking about what just happened, or maybe about how their arms were still tied together. Neither seemed to care, maybe William was just in need of something or someone to hang on to and maybe Sherlock always needed quite the same thing.

For this to be true or not, none of them were quite aware of their surroundings and didn't notice the air getting slightly colder or the sunlight lightly dimmer.

Sherlock seemed to lock back in reality short after that change of temperature and remembered he wanted to ask something to William.

“So William, I was thinking” he posed. The tone and name he was using meant he was still worried, thought William. He felt guilty of it: he didn't want to worry anyone, especially not the detective; William can take care of himself.

“Yes, Sherlock?” William tried to answer in a calm and caring manner, trying to tell Sherlock that he needed not to worry. Even if his legs still felt weak and his chest awefully heavy, in a way it was blocking the colors of the world from his vision. Sherlock didn't need to know that of course.

“Remember how we said we would meet again some day? I recently got an invitation to a lord’s ball and I had no plan whatsoever of going until John reminded me that I could invite a plus one, also known as the incredible lord James Moriarty.” Sherlock announced nonchalantly, going back to his usual self. His posture also changed, as if trying to act unbothered.

William chuckled. Not only because of his friends sentence, but also because it was clear as day he was quite anxious about what William’s answer would be. It could be seen in the way he almost dropped his cigarette trying to light it up to gain some control on himself.

But William himself was feeling a bit better. Sure, he felt colder since the detective let go of his arm to light up his cigarette and shivered lightly, but that was almost all now.

“Are you talking about Lord Quanson’s ball? It's all over the news in the high society, I myself also got an invitation but I'm surprised you got one as well. I see you're making quite a name for yourself since you helped the Yard solve that one case.”

“Guess everyone wants a piece of me.” He winked at William. “So? Are you going with me or what?”

William knew he'd see Sherlock some time soon, as his informaters told him about the detective’s endeavors and how he received an invitation.

Of course, William wouldn't bring himself to say no to that proposition. He already had to go for gathering and to maintain appreances, even if he would have preferred to sleep through this event as Louis would sometimes do. He only hoped that none of his recent…problems would cause him to loose his cool at the ball.

“I'd be delighted to join you there Sherlock. It wouldn't have been long until our ways met again in the end."

Chapter Text

_______________

Gosh. Sherlock loves the way his name felt on Liam’s tongue. Almost like he was worth all his attention.

Since they met on the Noatic, he couldn't bring himself to forget his scarlet eyes and beautiful blond hair, the man’s smile… everything felt too perfect.

It has been a few days since their encounter in the park and Sherlock have been preparing his outift himself since. Or maybe he just wouldn't stop complaining about his lack of style to John long enough that the other man took the matter in his own hands, and went out of his way to help Sherlock get a costume his size, a classic and chic black tuxedo but with a particularity: a red tie, matching a red rose likely sewed to his suit. He was perfectly reflecting the theme of the party in his opinion:...wait what was the theme again? It's almost spring so maybe just spring? The poetic renewal of life and nature?

Sherlock pinched his nose and sighed. Of course he lost the invitation paper and have no idea what the theme is. Oh well, at least he will be matching with Liam’s eyes. Stop. Why were his thoughts always wandering to him lately? He tried to get him out of his mind for good but as always, he couldn't even listen to himself.

Chasing the thoughts, he started to get ready for the ball that was just a few hours away.

_________________

William was trapped in his room. Not entirely, he closed the door and stayed panting behind it for a while, blocking the entrance to anyone that would dare derange him. His everything was hurting. He didn't get more actual rest since the last time he met Sherlock and now the party was in less than two hours and he couldn't even breathe.

How pathetic, the infamous lord of crime sitting in his room on the verge of tears, he thought. His thoughts have been getting worst. His throat felt blocked. In the last few weeks he hardly couldn't eat anything but recently even water felt hard to pass in his throat. It causes him to feel weak as he was always hungry but couldn't eat. It almost made him laugh. How frustrating to feel so aweful.

If it wasn't enough, he constantly felt the urge of death. Again and again. Nothing would stop it, even his mastermind of a head didn't find any answers to that. How ironic, he was useless to himself.

Knocks could be heard on the door. “William? Are you in there?” It was Albert. He probably saw the way his brother was rushing to his room avoiding the entire household, nothing ever gets past him especially when it's about his brothers.

Trying to stop the shaking in his voice William answered. “Yeah I'm here. Don't you worry brother, I'm just getting ready for the evening ball.”

“Alright. Just.. tell me if you need anything”. It felt like Albert wanted to say anything else but instead stayed quiet. “The carriage will take us there in less than an hour so do get ready.”

“Alright, thank you Al.”

He heard the steps of his brother against the floor, leaving his door. He sighed. He couldn't let anyone know how weak he was getting without concerning anyone on himself and his plan.

“I'll just stand up and throw some water on my face” he said to himself, trying to gain the confidence he desperately needed at that time.

However when standing up he saw his image in the room’s mirror. Pale, trembling. He also noticed what seemed to be…blood on his gloves? The blood of his victims never left his hands but by time he should have grown used to it. However he actually never did.

He will need maybe more than a few minutes to recover from that pain.

_____________

Half an hour later he was sitting in a carriage with Albert and Bond, all smiles. They needed to verify a certain exchange of threatening documents between local bandits and potential enemies of the crown from another country. It appeared to be a rumor so only the three of them were sent to the event.

It has been discussed that Sherlock Holmes would need to be handled and couldn't know about their actions. Of course, William will be the one talking to him. It actually pleases him to see the man again, even if his emotions still feel blocked in his chest. He was not even getting used to it after a few weeks of that.

The theme of the ball was Spring’s phœnix, poetically addressing the renewal of the year, resembling a phœnix reborn from his ashes. May this be a good sign for William’s future, he hopes in silence. A rebirth, that could really help him right now.

Chapter Text

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Sherlock quickly noticed Liam. His outift could only be described as stunning in the detecive’s eyes even as simple as it was. He said hi to Albert and Bond that introduced himself. Luckily, Sherlock’s eyes were locked on Liam and he didn't notice what could be the resemblance between Bond and Irene Adler.

Sherlock and William quickly left the group as the mission awaited. 

“Wanna go sit at a table? It's more calm than that noisy dance floor and we’ll be able to discuss freely.” Proposed the detective, eyes glued to William.

“That sounds like a good idea, the noice here is really overwhelming.” 

William took his time to look around the room. A chandelier was hanging from the giant roof, there was also a straircase going to a higher level that permitted a view of the entire room. Loads of tables were set there. Perfect, thought William. He will be able to keep an eye on the upper floor while his team plays their part on the lower one.

The noise was also messing with his senses and he hated it. An attack isn't welcome now. Not now, not with him, not on a mission. In his home, in his room with a locked door is already the limit of acceptable.

He feels a hand touch his arm. “Liam? I've been talking to you for a while. Are you with me?” The tone was nothing but warm. That should have calmed his chest more. Instead it does the exact opposite. 

William doesn't mean to be that fast when he takes back his hand from Sherlock's grip.

“I'm…” fine. But he doesn't say it. Instead, he runs away. His whole body want to get away from that place. Not exactly from Sherlock, but from the noise, the sound, all the overwhelming senses that take over him.

He needs to find an empty room right now. He doesn't know what will happen otherwise.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His arms feel empty? Like they need thousands of colors and feelings to fall on them but it will never happen. How can arms feel anything? Like a scratch that won't go away, even after scratching them for what seems hours it feels like the feeling just gets worst in his chest and on his arms, now red from his fingernails. 

He could tell them all he got food poisoning. Sherlock, Albert, Bond. They wouldn't question it, would they? Sherlock would, he didn't see him eat anything. He could tell Sherlock he left and then ate. Yeah, that makes it.

His heartbeat feels weird, messing with his thoughts.

How long was he in that room? Has it been five minutes or the entire evening? But while sitting in what seems to be a giant wardrobe, he hears footsteps getting closer from his hideout.

Finally, the only door opens, and someone enters slowly, as if to not scare him away.

The person doesn't talk, but after a look at the situation, sits down next to William, who hids his face in his arms, maybe hiding more from himself than from the man who he knows to be Holmes.

Go away, don't see me like this. Go go go go-

William's mind stops when he feels warm hands pulling him close. Without questioning, Sherlock instinctively pulled him for the man to feel his own heartbeat, stopping William’s thoughts in an instant, maybe from the utter shock that the detective was hugging him while seeing him at his worst and William couldn't understand why he was staying, or maybe because that was all he needed right now, a presence supporting him. Though he still felt aweful in his chest and arms, his mind was at ease. 

*************   *************

Sherlock didn't understand what was happening. The evening started out heavenly, he was talking to Liam about a previous case he solved, like the two of them grew used to do when they met. But something clearly wasn't right. Liam had the same frown he held when they met in the park, and had a melancholy in his eyes that didn't pass. 

After a few minutes of him talking to what seemed a wall, he asked Liam if he was listening and the man just…ran away? 

So of course now Sherlock was worried as hell and of course he spent the next twenty minutes looking for him, asking everywhere if people saw him. He then found the man in a closet as big as his own room, in the fœtal position, hair and perfect tuxedo now in a mess.

That became quickly the one case the detective grew the most worried about in his life. Was someone to be held responsible? What got Liam feeling like this? Was it Sherlock’s fault William James Moriarty ran away and hid in that wardrobe? He felt his own heart beating faster due to the stress rising in him.

However he quickly understood the time was not to questioning. Liam seemed to be having some sort of panic attack and, being once a victim of those, Sherlock knew how to take care of them. Or at least, how to make the person understand they were not facing it alone.

So there they were, William’s ears on his chest, in a close embrace, listening to his heart to put him a ease. Neither of them had said a word and Liam was not facing him, as if he was..ashamed? Why would William ever be ashamed of himself? In Sherlock’s eyes, Liam was the most perfect being that ever existed. Even now, hiding in his chest and at the worst Sherlock ever saw him be, he couldn't stop admiring the man’ beauty. 

After a few minutes in this comfortable position, his own heartbeat didn't slow down but for different reasons now. He realized the situation they were in and suddently blushed a little, luckily Liam couldn't see him from where he was.

He could also feel Liam gripped at his arms like to a life jacket in the middle of the ocean. The state he was in destroyed Sherlock a little more. He couldn't take it to see anyone suffering, but especially not this person. 

He tried to make him feel better any way he could, which included brushing his hair with his free hand, the other one held by Liam, and humming reassurance and a gentle song he learned long ago, about a woman who lost her cat.

William’s grip grew lighter on Sherlock as he sang and just, let go? Did Liam just really fall asleep in his arms? Sherlock tried to remain as calm as possible. He didn't know how long the reception was going to be but he knew he couldn't leave him alone like this. Being who he was, he wanted to understand the story fully and was not gonna leave Liam go without an explanation. 

Only a few options were offered to him. They could stay here until Liam woke up but seeing his state, he would only wake up the next morning, the second option was to take him home. It would take him a while to find the other Moriarty brother or the other man he met this evening, and Sherlock didn't want to leave Liam alone that long. Or… he had a third option. He could take Liam to 221B Baker Street for him to rest there? Yeah, that seems like the best option, doesn't it?

_____________________

After a hell of a piggyback ride, Sherlock had found a carriage and asked for his house. Luckily, nothing seemed to wake William up as he was sleeping peacefully next to him. Hopefully Miss. Hudson and Watson were asleep at that late hour and were not going to ask him questions. He’d hate to wake Liam up after that eventful evening.

Heavens knows how he was able to get in the house without awakening anyone, and gently putting Liam down on his bed in the mess that was his room. He sighed a little, hoping Albert wasn't wondering if someone kidnapped his brother, even though he would kinda be right.

He decided to leave those thoughts for the next day and went to sleep on the sofa.

Chapter Text

10:07 AM

It has been since dawn that Sherlock woke up and made breakfast, thinking William would quickly follow. But now he was almost getting worried, 10 AM? Really, Liam?

Luckily Watson and Miss Hudson both went out for the morning, leaving him alone with William, allowing them to maybe sort things out. 

He was on his way to wake him when he heard noises in the room, the bed creaking under the weight of the other man sitting down. 

He climbed the staircase separating his bedchamber from the living room to greet William good morning, wondering on how he would feel this new day, and seeing about his reaction from bringing him home impulsively last night.

************  *************

William woke up from a sweet dream lost in his mind before the memories of the precedent day arose in him. How his..attacks came back during the ball. How he ran away. How..Sherlock? Was it him? -who is he kidding of course it was him- had held him while humming a song he didn't understand. He then opened his eyes and realized he wasn't at the party, nor his own mansion.

Lying down on the edge of a bed that wasn't his, he started to mentally curse his problems, how he allowed himself to be that mentally weak in public and especially in front of a Sherlock that didn't need more problems to be added to his pile and was probably lost on the situation. But what situation? Could he just go up to the detective and go “Oh yeah, yesterday? Sorry about that, I kinda want to die.”  Sighhhh he knew the other man would ask him for explanations. Of course, the detective would feel his duty to help like he did last night and wouldn't allow him to leave without at least a small answer from his side. 

Because he was in Sherlock’s house, correct? The room was quite small, with a sofa aside one wall, arranged in such a way that it was pretty obvious someone slept on it the same night. A violin was placed on a table full of newspapers, surely for cases Sherlock was solving. And next to all this, Liam saw a wall that almost made him chuckle. Red strings going from one end of the wall to the other, pictures from cases of lords covering newspaper articles, he could read the words Lord of crime written in the middle of the wall.

“Mr. Holmes really wants to catch me, doesn't he?” He laughed to himself.

Thought he should thanks him, he finally got a full night of sleep after weeks of endless work with all the recent taking-care-of-lords activity. And maybe, just maybe, he felt a little better today.

He sat down on the edge of the bed, the quite awful feeling that he couldn't really explain 

still sticking to his chest and the colors of life still seemed hidden from him. But he felt lucky to notice his arms didn't feel like scratching today.

Liam knew sleep was not enough to stop the feeling but again maybe, just maybe, it was helping. Noticing the steps coming to the room he was staying in, he quickly stood up.

Sherlock then entered the room with great noise “LIAM! Is the sleeping beauty finally awake? Do you know it's almost 15 past 10AM? I was getting worried that you didn't wake up.” It was like a musical box was activated, there was no way to stop him from talking, but it was true the dark haired man was really worried about William, there was no hiding it either.

William chuckled lightly, which instantly made Sherlock stop his blabbering.

“Easy there. I just woke up, remember? And I'm not surprised how late it is, it's been a while since I actually had a good night of sleep.”

Saying that, he continued smiling and got closer to Sherlock, trying to find a way to reassure him. He decided to grab his friend’s shoulder and to look him in the eyes.

“I need to thank you for bringing me here. And for the…incident of yesterday, I'm dearly sorry you had to witness something like that, I don't know what took over me… My apologies.” He said, his eyes going back to his own feet, not able to keep eye contact with Sherlock while talking, almost fearing a disappointed face for how weak he was. But looking up, he understood at the detective’s reaction that he couldn't have been more wrong.

With each word, Sherlock's eyes grew wider. Why would Liam apologize for his own feelings or whatever happened to him yesterday? Does he feel bad because the detective carried him home and missed the rest of the ball? 

“Oh! William. Stop saying all that, it's like you aren't allowed to feel anything. You don't have to be a brick wall without feelings after an awful day to “compensate” you know? And-” he hesitated “And frankly, if I'm given the choice, I'd prefer to stay the entire evening with you facing your worst or at your best rather than dance with a single lady at any ball. Or lord, if that matters.”

It was Liam’s turn to be astonished by the revelation. He always had the support of his family but that… that was different. It was genuine affection Sherlock just gave him and William didn't know how to respond.

“Sherlock, I-” don't know what to say. So he was surely still very tired, because the only way he found to show Sherlock how much what he said had meant to him was to cross the short distance between them and hug a helpless Sherlock like his life depended on him. And honestly, it maybe did. 

Sherlock immediately hugged him back tightly, like an anchor keeping Liam connected to the world. After some time he started gently brushing the other’s hair for a while, saying he was surprised from the hugging would be an understatement.

Sherlock himself had never really been good with emotions, he and his brother Mycroft loved each other dearly but would never show it in classical ways and wouldn't talk about things considered futile like friendship or love. But right now, in this close embrace, everything he thought he knew felt wrong. He wanted to protect Liam from the problems he was facing and help him go through it with even more determination than wanting to solve the mystery behind the lord of crime.

After a few minutes of both of them lost in their thoughts, Sherlock proposed they discuss the important matter that is William's “attacks” on his sofa.

*********** **********

William James Moriarty was always prepared for everything. He always came ready with three to four plans in advance for a mission and always knew how to handle a situation. But since yesterday evening, nothing went according to all of his well put plans.

He had panicked, SLEPT IN SHERLOCK’S ARMS GODDAMNIT and ended up getting carried to the many's house. Sure, he felt really flattered, appreciated and almost fine for the first time in a while…but that doesn't mean he should stay here any longer. 

First, his brothers would worry. Sherlock had sent them a letter when he woke up but that wouldn't explain the whole situation. Then, the lord of crime had plans which needed to be taken care of. He was the brain of the operation of course he is needed! But when he looked in Sherlock's eyes again after those well put reflections, he sighed. There was no way he was leaving this place already. After all the other had said to him? 

He wouldn't admit it to himself, at least just now, but he really awaited for yesterday's ball to chat with Sherlock, he would miss that for almost nothing in the world. It was one of the only moments that allowed him to get him mind of things. He sighed again at his decision. Oh well! his brothers will have to wait a little more for an explanation.

Chapter Text

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William had started explaining his situation to Sherlock, who was almost talking notes when he felt he needed to remember everything. Liam had a calm and serious face, almost serene, almost smiling. But Sherlock -who knew him relatively well by now- felt him tense.

They were both sitting on the sofa with Sherlock holding Liam’s hand, as to help him retell the painful events. Liam explained almost in detail to his own surprise, but left out the whole I-kinda-want-to-die-yk part to himself. After all, he already worried Sherlock enough for the time being. 

Sherlock felt that Liam was keeping secrets from him but didn't push him to reveal them. After all, he was surprised that the often secretive William would open up that much to him already. 

They were getting closer to each other as Liam talked to be at a point one heartbeat away looking in each other’s eyes, as searching for something they both quickly found. A moment arrived, then passed. Both of them staring maybe a heartbeat too long.

They both sat there in silence as trying to answer the silent questions they both probably had answers to. One was wondering how someone could be as beautiful even broken and one, how he could manage to stay longer, just a little longer, just forever.

But time passes and responsibilities come along with it. Sherlock gave William some recommendations as he  was once interned for drug addiction, he knew how to calm some crises a little. “..But more importantly talk about it alright? I'm always here to help and often home except when Scotland Yard needs me, so always knock on my door during those times ok? Don't suffer this all alone.” Sherlock would be broken to find his Liam suffering alone, hiding from everyone he trusts.

William was avoiding his gaze, for once unsure of his own intentions. He wanted to stay, but never come back to someone that saw him in such secret pain. He wanted to hug Sherlock thank you but also hide from him forever. In the end, he chose to say a “Thank you” and go back to his mansion, pensive.

____________

“I'm gonna kill that shitty detective” 

Bond and Albert were trying to make Louis calm down, the other waking in circles a kitchen knife in hand. He had been worried sick since Albert and Bond came back without William thinking he was already home. They waited until late at night and after waking up the next morning, received a letter from a certain detective.

“It's not Mr.Holmes’s fault our dear Will fell asleep at the party, calm down.” Albert would have been laughing at the ridiculous situation if he wasn't so anxious before being handed the letter. He knew Sherlock would have taken good care of their brother and regardless, no one is able to walk him up when he falls asleep. 

The rest of the group was informed of the situation and looked at the scene, almost laughing at the blond’s childish behavior. Bond didn't say all he thought while taking the dangerous weapon from Louis but smiled thinking the occasion was perfect for the Lord of Crime and his close friend to have some time in private together, enjoying each other's company. He'll have to ask Will how that happened.  

The entrance door finally opens, showing a still tired but calm William wearing his ball outfit and after looking at the room, at Louis that just reluctantly gave his knife to James Bond and the smiles of the others, he laughed lightly. “ ‘Morning everyone. A little late am I?”

Soon surrounded by everyone asking him questions he almost couldn't breathe.”Should I kill the detective?” “I have been telling you that you needed more sleep, glad you finally were forced to do so.” “Happy you're finally here, Louis was on his way to murder Mr.Holmes”

William chuckles at their reaction. Louis was trying to take the knife back from Bond to kill the reason his brother was tired enough to fall asleep the last evening. “William, you need more rest, go sleep more. I'm sure Holmes house's was less comfortable than ours.”

“I'm not a young plant that dies when we don't look at it guys. Though it's true I could go for some drinks right now. Thanks for your concern Louis, I could go for some of your tea if you don't mind.”

We could see in a blink of an eye Louis sprint to the kitchen to make his brother some tea at the perfect temperature like he likes, allowing everyone else in the house to breath as the man finally stopped grabbing the knife to threaten something.

“We'd also like some tea, right Albert?”. Bond looked at Albert then to the professor with a look that meant “Tell-us-everything-that-happened-we-wanna-know”.

Albert also wanted to know everything that happened but William didn't see it from the same way and just gave a quick resume of the last twelve hours, keeping for himself the morning discussion and evening...attack.

______________________

“Woaaaahhhhhh he let Liam sleep on his bed and him on the sofa? They're not at that stage yet if I'm understanding correctly.” Bond was trying to find signs for what seems to be his favorite soap opera.

“What the hell of a stage is he talking about?” Asks an annoyed and clueless Moran.

Bond seemed to be the only one to see this as an event with some sort of clues to be found.

Him, Albert and Moran were charged to go to a tavern to gain information about yet another high placed lord that abuses of his power and position.

The absence of Louis allowed them to discuss things like this, as the man would attack anyone that approached his brother even if William didn't see issues with it.

To their knowledge, William never had any experience with relationships even if he's very gallant with ladies at balls. The only reason they think Sherlock and him might be closer than friends is mostly because of Sherlock’s behavior each time he sees the Moriarty brother, and how they will find a way to end up discussing together at mundane events, with William calling it “gaining information about how the Yard is handling the lord of crime situation” or just giving up on explanations.

“Didn’t you find him very tired recently? I mean, we sure had a proof with him falling asleep at a ball but his smile seems to fade away from his face. He's always thinking ahead but now he also seems lost in negative thoughts.” Albert was trying to ease his brother from his problems but it was hard with such a complicated mind.

“How about we just ask him when we get home? It's easier than to keep wondering and guessing right guys?”. They knew Moran was right but William is always busy planning and executing schemes. They finally chose to ask him to go get some macarons in a new shop to discuss at a table there.

Chapter Text

The idea in place, only William and Albert were able to make it to the macaron place that day.

“It's been a while since we had a discussion only us two, right Albert? The place and the food is divine: I could live here and spend my life eating only their macarons morning, noon and evening.”

“It's true they're succulent but calm down on the sugar will ya? They need some for their other clients I'm sure. Also I'm happy we can finally discuss too. How's my brother doing? You have your ups and downs like everyone don't you? I don't wanna say I'm worried for you but saying the opposite would be lying to you.”

“Are you planning an intervention?” William chuckled as he ate his sweets but didn't know if he wanted to answer wholeheartedly. “I'm….” a macaron - what a savior - made him cough and gave the blonde some time to think of a proper answer without lying to Albert. “See? Even the macarons have pity for me for how you're attacking me with your questions. To answer you properly, I wouldn't say I'm at the highest point of my life, the plans are tiring but I'm better after that good night of sleep”. 

And it was true, he surprisingly found himself enjoying a little the small things like a weak sunshine on his skin or the taste of a strawberry macaron for exemple. Sure, he still hurt and the world wasn't fully colorful but his episodes seemed to have left him alone for some time.

“I would say I'm feeling better than a couple days ago, curiously thankfully to that ball. Surprisingly humans need at least a few hours of sleep a day, did you know that?” He wanted to make Albert laugh but the man did the opposite as he started frowning slightly.

“William, I'm here if you need me remember? I know you're one to do things on your own but since childhood I've asked to support you and help you go through your problems. Older brothers are here for that, right? We both do this for Louis, you must understand how I feel.” Saying so, Albert ordered a few more sweets to share. They'll stay here a while for both the importance of the conversation and the incredible food they serve, and will eventually decide to bring some to the rest of the group.

_____________________

Sherlock was annoyed. The last time his brother came to visit him, the detective lost once again a fight against him, but also the said brother was warning him about women. Women aren't really his area of expertise and he didn't really care about the warning. Then he found himself making his own house explode to get Mrs.Adler to show them where she hid an important document.

So a lot happened since Mycroft came back on London for the his work with the crown. And who came to 221b baker street randomly to grab some tea? His dear brother. He was hoping he wasn't here to warn him about flowers and ask him to cut every lavender he found for “a great cause”. 

But apparently Mycroft was just passing by in the neighborhood for work and really only came for tea, this time not trying to shoot him with a paint gun - thank god -.

“Why are you here again today Myckey?”

Sherlock made no effort whatsoever to welcome his brother, to the annoyance of Miss Hudson that smacked his head with the board she brought tea on and gave him a death stare before leaving the room.

“Like I just said I'm just passing by, and it's been a while since we didn't discuss together did we?” Mycroft was as chic and presentable as Sherlock wasn't. You could think they were opposites if you didn't know them better but they shared a real connection and cared dearly for one another.

“Siighhhh. Very well then.” Sherlock just started sipping on his tea, still mildly annoyed.

Mycroft smiled a little. His younger brother was always seen as this genius that only enjoyed solving cases alone, but he also wanted human connections as anyone else, just couldn't find someone on the same level as him or that just tolerated the way he acted. At least, until a few months ago.

His brother gets sparkly eyes each time even just the name William James Moriarty is mentioned; it's a secret to no one that knows Sherlock just a little, as it seems to be impossible for the man to hide it. 

Mycroft was curious about it as he was worried about how lonely his brother seemed to be sometimes, and highly mentally wished for William to change that, no matter who he would be to Sherlock. He really came here to ask Sherlock about how he was doing. After all, it was part of his role as an older brother. Even if he didn't always give recommendations, he would listen.

But he also clearly saw that something was bothering Sherlock, at the way the other was clearly tense while acting unbothered with Mycroft, his fingers full of ink when Sherlock hated writing or how a few papers were curled in balls on the desk as if he tried writing to someone but failed to find sense to his words.

Mycroft wasn't someone to talk for no reason but instead go straight to the point. 

“Did you send a letter to William? Something bothering you about a thing he told you?”

Any normal person would ask how he understood so quickly the problem but the Holmes brothers were not of this category. 

The change in Sherlock was quiet but visible. He gave up some of his unbothered attitude, sighed and put down his teacup. 

“And how's that your problem? If you came here to mock me about my attachment to someone who's on the same level as me and about having…hope about that relationship I'm not interested, I can mock myself on my own.” He sighed again, maybe a bit remorseful of his words. “Sighhhh forget what I said. How do you help someone when they're feeling sad? I don't really care about how I make others feel most of the time but if someone seems destroyed by life, can you get them back up? Are we allowed to hope for them?”

There's only one answer that Sherlock wanted to hear and it was “Yes. Everyone gets better, it's even easy!” but both of them knew life doesn't work this way. A short silence settled between them, Mycroft now having more questions but decided to keep them for after the letter was sent and maybe an answer received.

“I would like to say what you want to hear, Sherly, but it's more complicated than that. I don't know what happened to this friend of yours but it can sometimes take years for someone to get better, if they fully recover at all. You should know, with your past.” Sherlock's addictions were a worrying problem in his youth and neither of them really knew if it was finally completely resolved, even after all those years. 

“What you can do to help is make the person understand you comprehend their situation and are here to help them, whatever happens. It's always important to have a shoulder you can rest on, peers you can rely on. But saying that is also for you, right? Always remember you can count on me, Watson and Miss. Hudson.” 

Mycroft was surprised to say the least to see his younger brother importantly implicated in someone else's well being, enough to ask for help and directives to him. Mental health isn't easy, and Mycroft hoped everything would go well for the said friend Sherly cared about.

“Alright, thanks Myckey. I'll try to keep that in mind for the future. And how about your job, director? Everything working as you wish?” 

After half an hour of conversation Mycroft said his goodbyes to his younger brother with the promise of helping if Sherlock ever reaches out to him.

Chapter Text

Sherlock didn't mean to overshare about what bothered him, but Liam’s confession spiraled in his mind as he felt his head overheating from thinking. He hasn't left this state for a few days as the thoughts used most of his time. He wants to help Liam, he needs to do so. Sherlock wants William’s happiness more than his own but can't even bring himself to send affirmation words in a letter, the ideas blocking between his heart and the ink. It would be incredible for a heart to just show what it feels right?

Even after what Liam told Sherlock, this one felt as if some things were left out of the conversation. He feared emotions kept well hidden behind a smiling facade and closed doors.

Telling someone you'll always be here for them can feel so wrong, scepticism can easily take over a burdened mind. Often, the people with the most problems are the ones that reach out the least for help. Or at least, not in conventional ways. They won't say “please, I need help” but will ask for some of your time to discuss anything to stop their mind from thinking, or will ask you how you're doing with worried eyes. Being constantly unwell can feel like everyone shares the same issue and they want to ease you from it, not seeing they're the one needing it.

Sherlock's best idea of the moment is to take his heart from his thoracic cage and give it to his Liam for him to feel the length to which the detective is ready to go to help. Of course, this is not an envisageable issue so Sherlock is still thinking. You can feel so helpless next to the suffering of a loved one.

Taking a new paper, he started writing yet again a letter that -hopefully- will be sent this time.

Their last meeting allowed him to understand some of Liam's pain and he was not gonna leave that moment in a corner of his mind to rot. William opened up to him, making him feel so dearly honoured as he didn't explain those thoughts to his own brothers. That made him chuckle a little as he imagined the face of Louis if he told him that William confided in the detective and not him, soon ashamed as William should indeed open up to his brothers. Another reason to help him get out of his current state.

The only way Liam would be completely honest with him would be for them to be alone somewhere for a few hours. And if he could get Liam to sleep more that would also be fantastic, the way he fell asleep a few days ago showed how much work he was doing instead of sleeping. Does a teacher actually have to stay awake until 1AM to work on their assignments? I mean, how would Sherlock know? He's not a teacher. Oh!  Maybe he could go listen to one of his classes and then they could dine somewhere not too crowded…hum… a restaurant? Or maybe a picnic. Everyone loves picnics, right?  

Finally with a tangible idea in mind, he started writing his letter.

_____________

The next morning, early birds could see a glimpse of hope in the eyes of the second son of the Moriarty family. It was not evident to find it, but in the way he acted you could find a weird eagerness to teach his next mathematics lesson.

Between his ideals and teaching, William had almost no time for himself, and even less time to spend discussing crimes with Sherlock. This is why receiving this letter on this cold spring morning made him shiver from a newly found joy. 

This Monday morning, he had woken up with difficulty. After spending a lot of time filing psychological profils of potential threats to their plan -new element had made their apparition in his scenery-, and the dawn was alright rising when he had finally stopped working. 

Waking up doesn't solve his silent suffering. Every day, he has the same awful feeling in his chest, compressing his thoracic cage, forcing him to take deep breaths, making him drown in unwanted thoughts. Every evening, he would -consciously or not- wish for it to be gone by morning. For the thoughts, for the feeling, for maybe to never wake up. When the morning comes and William feels the same as the last day, he sighs, seemingly condemned to live through the next day. 

This morning was different as he was awakened by someone at his door telling him a certain detective had sent a letter. 

So there he was, sprinting to his desk still wearing his pajamas to read his lesson of the day, making sure there won't be any stuttering in his voice while teaching.

That early morning, Louis was lucky enough to witness his brother chuckling while reading to himself mathematical equations.

Chapter Text

______________

William was as concentrated as ever on his lesson, allowing him to escape his thoughts for a while. Maybe, he would feel better if he stayed some time away from his responsibilities as the lord of crime with Sherlock. Or a few months. A year maybe? That would surely help. Stop. right. there. What was he ever thinking about? The plan goes before anything else, and under a few months William would have died with the class society, at least that is the current plan. 

But for the day, and only for this one day, he allowed his mind to envisage another option, escaping his own plan for a few hours. In fact, knowing his death near allowed him to breathe a little, and he will try to enjoy the day as much as he was capable of in the present time. 

If it was one of his last discussions with the detective, he could at least enjoy it, a bit guilty the other didn't know that and would only know it at their last encounter. Oh well. The detective would quickly get over his loss, William was sure of it. It's not like their relationship was special, right? Was it special?

~~~~~~

It was soothing seeing someone's eyes concentrated on you not in a judgmental way, but as if you were the most incredible person on earth. Yes, the detective didn't stop staring at his dear Liam for the entire lesson, in fact the professor was sure that Sherlock didn't understand a single explanation the other man had been saying. 

Maybe he should mess with him and grade the current lesson, he'd have a fun time grading Sherlock's paper for sure.

******* ******* 

The students quickly left the classroom as the lesson came to an end, some staying behind to ask questions while Sherlock patiently waited until the last one of them walked away to talk to Liam. “Incredible lesson Mr. Professor! Your students seem very smart, not like I didn't understand anything, I knew everything already of course.” He had a half-serious half-sarcastical attitude that made Liam chuckle, to Sherlock's delight.

“Alright genius, I'm sure you're so smart. You sure were not concentrating only on the lesson, or am I wrong?” Saying that, William crossed the small distance separating them and ended up close to Sherlock's face, teasing him. You could see the detective losing some of the indifference he was trying to hold, a weak pink color lighting up his ears.

Sherlock answered as trying to stay composed, but a smirk clearly visible on his face.  “I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about, Liam. I told you in my letter that I could spend some time with you today, the lesson you just gave wasn't really my priority, although I must say you teach extremely well. But if you don't want me.... guess I'll be on my way.” 

Saying the last words in a pathetic voice and acting as he was leaving the room, he closed his eyes and put the palm of his right hand dramatically on his forehead, waiting for William's reaction.

His act worked as Liam chuckled and sighed lightly “Of course I want you to stay, dear. If I remember correctly, you proposed in your letter an activity you didn't think was good enough to mention the name of it. I'm curious to see what you prepared.” William had caught Sherlock's left wrist as trying to stop him from leaving, both of them knowing Sherlock was going nowhere. The contact soothed Liam's mind, apparently in opposition to Sherlock's, as he could feel the detective’s pulse going faster.

“How dare you say my plan for the day will be terrible? I at least spent twenty minutes planning the idea.” Sherlock said it to make Liam laugh again, but he actually spent far longer looking for ideas to spend time with the blond professor.

“If you say so, what is this special activity then?” Liam started packing his bag, filling it with the day’s lesson and then proceeded to erase the board. “Aha, it's a surprise! You'll see for yourself when we get there.” Following that sentence, he grabbed the arm Liam had caught him with and made the professor follow him outside of the class then of the university. 

It was three in the afternoon and the day couldn't be more perfect, they could feel a weak wind blowing in the trees while the sun shined radiantly. At this time, William would normally already be on his way back to the Moriarty mansion thinking of backup ideas for the final act of their plan. It had caused him to be overworked, so he was grateful for Sherlock’s letter and presence as I gave him a reason to just enjoy one afternoon.

As he walked out of the university following Sherlock, he realized it's been a long time since he just enjoyed being outside, which wasn't shocking as he had no reason to just walk in a park, with all his responsibilities. 

Chapter Text

They started walking outside of the building in a comfortable silence side by side, Sherlock still holding Liam's wrist seemingly with no intentions of letting go. Then Sherlock talked to William about how Dr.Watson decided to write books about him and explained in detail a case that really interested him. 

“But right now, as you know, I'm trying to solve the mystery of the Lord of Crime. It's so frustrating not being able to understand the whole plan, that man is a complete genius, there aren't any clues left on the scenes of crime except for clues he wanted me to find. I don't understand how he does it. He's almost on the same level as you Liam.” They started walking in a public garden near a river, no one else in the park.

“Don't you say? It'd be a pleasure to see you catch him then. After all, you do have an exceptional technique by suppressing possibilities one by one don't you? I'd be curious to see how you're going to get a criminal that remarquable, I can't imagine the greatest detective of London not able to find a way to understand a criminal’s twisted mind.”

“Oh! There's a few minds I don't really understand no matter how hard I try. Or maybe one single mind.” He looked back at the professor, a gaze saying more than the words he just spoke.

William seemed to think a little before answering. “Mysteries allow us to never run out of surprises don't they? Sometimes it's better not knowing everything.” then smiled warmly “I never feel to be out of surprises when I spend time with you, that's one of the reasons I enjoy your presence.” 

“Im- sorry what? Thank you, I mean yes! Me too. I-” Sherlock seemed to have lost the ability to speak at the graceful smile the other was showing him. The detective would swear that even the sun didn't burn that bright. Concentrating on what he wanted to say, he tripped on a stone and fell to the ground, dragging William in his fall as he was still holding onto his wrist. 

Sherlock was on the ground with Moriarty on top of him, both realizing they were really close. Too close. Liam tried to climb his way out of Sherlock's arms but just managed to fall back on the other. For a few seconds, they looked into each other's eyes, both flustered as Liam tried to stand back up. William was almost ashamed of not wanting to do so, short of breath. However, this time was very different; he couldn't breathe but for a whole different reason. 

Sherlock was the first to talk again “I'm so very sorry Liam, are you alright? I hope you didn't hurt yourself falling down like this. I surely should be more careful when I walk..” William realized the detective also seemed ashamed as his whole face had turned red. Or maybe it was for a whole different reason too?  

“Im alright don't worry about me, you're the one that felt on his back. Please do be careful.” Saying so, he presented his right arm to help Sherlock stand up, which the raven-haired man caught onto and quickly stood up.

“Mhm. Well, I should maybe stop holding onto your arm too. Wouldn't want that to happen again, no?” Sherlock fully wanted that to happen again, to hold Liam in his arms like what had just arrived but he would rather die than say that aloud. 

William still wasn't fully sure what had happened but it left him in a state of utter confusion. The moment their eyes met while falling down had allowed a silence in his heart, his heart had skipped a beat and the feeling that took control of his body right after was nothing but warming. For the first time in months, the silent aching was replaced by a golden light. 

In winter, you can feel so cold as you walk in the snow at night, that you won't even realize how freezing you are. But then, you come back into your heated home and rest with your family under a blanket by the fireplace, finally acknowledging the cold but experiencing warmth at the same time. William was feeling as he had finally found the warmth he was yearning for all this time, and there was no reason for him to let go.

“William? Are you sure you didn't hurt yourself while falling?” Sherlock's concerned voice brought him back to reality and he realized he was crying silent tears. 

William looked at the detective fully. He still wasn't wearing a tie and his outfit wasn't professional. His pocket held a cigarette case, a bad habit familiar to the both of them. His fingers showed signs of recent violin practice. Strangers will see nothing particularly exceptional about that man, but at that moment William realized there was no place he'd rather be than by his side. 

“I'm fine,...Sherly. Thankfully to you.” he started sweeping away some of his tears but soon more followed, not knowing how to stop them. It had been a long time since he had last allowed his emotions to overwhelm him, but in that moment he didn't think of it as an issue to be ashamed of but more as a rebirth. Ironical isn't it? The last time he opened up to Sherlock was after a ball about renewal where he felt being destroyed in a million pieces. Today, he was being himself, the person he was before all his plans, before all the crimes.

********* ********

Sherlock couldn’t have looked more confused about the situation than he was right now. However, he felt that some of the blond professor’s sorrow was coming to an end. Why? He had no idea. But there was a calm atmosphere surrounding Liam, his tears didn't feel like a call for help anymore. On the contrary, Sherlock felt as William Moriarty's mind was finally allowing himself some rest and that made him euphoric. He was still concerned about William's health and confused but felt as though it was fine now.

The detective then tried to help Liam wipe away his tears, slowly bringing his hand to the blond man's face and touching his face gently, Liam first surprised by the contact but soon allowed him to help soothe his sorrow. 

After some time, Liam seemed to have stopped crying and started looking intensely at the detective, holding onto the hand Sherlock touched Liam's face with. Gosh! If William asked him to drop his life behind and follow him to another continent, the detective wouldn't even think once. Guess they will continue holding onto each other's arms then, his heart beating even faster -if that was possible-.

“Soooo do you enjoy picnics?”

Chapter Text

___________

They spent a lovely afternoon discussing as they had wished to do for so long. There was no obligation forcing the two men to leave each other for still a few hours. Liam was expected in his mansion for dinner and Sherly’s train to London leaves at 8pm, meaning they had more than enough time to talk. But it soon felt like the few hours transformed in only a few minutes when the sun began setting. 

They had set their picnic under a weeping willow next to a river, hidden from view. Sherlock had left the picnic box under that tree before going to meet William empty-handed for the surprise.

The change of temperature took them by surprise, especially Sherly that started to shiver, William noticing almost instantly. They both stood up and started walking towards the train station.

“Pff can't you stand the fresh air of the evening time?” Liam started mockingly, but took off his coat from his shoulders to give it to the other man. “It'd be sad if you catch a cold wouldn't it? How will you be able to understand great mysteries and solve unsolvable minds? If I'm being honest, things aren't that hard to understand if you look with… lets say your heart”

“Hum! I guess I'm forced to accept your coat if it's for such a noble reason as to catch criminals that you're giving it to me. Although I really should be on my way, the last train from Durham to London leaves in… half an hour I believe." Sherlock said so while looking at his watch, trying not to look too disappointed that time flies so fast in such heavenly company. “Except if I can stay at your mansion for the night of course.” He said the last sentence in a whisper, already fearing having said something he would regret. And now looking at William's surprised face made him realize he may have misinterpreted things and will definitely regret it. 

“I'm.. not sure it's an option this time, sorry to disappoint.”

A lot of options went through William's mind in that instant. Does Sherlock mean to say something with that last sentence? There is almost no way for him to bring the detective in their manor as he may discover things about the lord of crime, although… staying longer with Sherly doesn't seem to be such a bad idea, right? Wait wait wait. No. There was no way he could bring him home without putting their operations in danger. 

But he had to put things in the clear, answer a few questions before the other's departure. Sherlock looked like he was panicking and that sight made Liam chuckle while his heart skipped a beat. How was he allowed to be this cute? And then he understood something. About himself, about the situation; something he may have known since he laid eyes on the detective on the Noatic. The interest he had in Sherlock was not related at all to his plans, on the contrary. Sherlock allowed him to escape his condition and to feel something else than despair. 

They were now next to the train tracks, a weak street lamp allowing them to see each other's faces. They were alone waiting for the train, which wasn't surprising that late. 

“Is there…something you meant to tell me wit your last sentence, Sherlock Holmes?”

“...maybe...Would that be a problem to you, dear professor?” 

“.....on the contrary.”

The world seemed to have disappeared while William walked closer to the dark haired man and for a few moments, their mouth met in a sweet kiss.

___________

OH. MY. DEAR. GOD. 

Did he just kiss Sherlock? No. No. That didn't happen. Did it? Why would Sherlock even agree to kiss him? Another good question was why he, William Moriarty, kissed the detective?

William was walking home and got all the time of the world to think and rethink of the last moments of the afternoon, sighing.

He was angry at all his life choices now. What an idiot he was, he didn't even ask permission to kiss Sherlock. The other must hate him now. Did he ruin everything? Of course he did.

Did he, thought?...Sherlock didn't seem to have minded and didn't push him away, he just got on the train when it arrived, saying goodbye. Maybe there was no reason to worry for once? That made him smile a smile so bright it almost reached his ears. What a thrilling feeling fueling his heart for once! And all thank to a single person.

William arrived home in a blink of an eye, lost in questioning. He must at least admit to himself the day could count as one of the best moments of his entire existence and the sunshine it brought within his eyes and flesh was exhilarating. Although the warm feeling was already fading a little, the sunshine of Sherly's eyes still held onto his mind and he didn't feel the breeze of the night even without his coat. Oh right, he forgot to ask Sherly for his coat back. Deciding it would be a problem for later, he knocked on the door.

“Hey Will! Enjoyed your afternoon? What happened to your coat?” Louis greeted him with a smile, a marvelous odor of stargazing pie could be smelled even from the entrance.

“Yes Louis, thank you. I really needed to do something other than work for a while and an afternoon strolling was all I needed. For the coat… let's say I forgot it.” 

Louis didn't know William went out with Sherlock and that was for the best, the other didn't need to know all the details of what that happened anyways, a lot had happened, now thinking about it. He also really did forget his coat, only he forgot it on Sherlock's shoulders.

“It's true, brother, that you look like a walking star tonight, and seem better rested than before. I'm relieved as you've been looking exhausted lately. Everyone's already here waiting for you, I made your favorite dish!”

Will followed Louis into the dining room where we could see Free, Moran and Bond; MoneyPenny and Albert still in London for the secret organization M6, while Von Herder tested a new car for Bond.

“Hey Will! Classes weren't too exhausting?”

“You look like you had fun today, special reason?”

“I'm so hungry please come eat, or cannibalism will be my next option.”

William chuckled as he went to sit down at the table with the others. Life didn't seem too bad right now, doesn't it?

Chapter Text

_______________

If someone had asked Sherlock if he ever felt lucky a few years back, he wouldn't have hesitated and would have said no. How could he believe in luck with the terrible college years he suffered because of his lower social class status? Without mentioning his previous addiction and internalization.

But if someone had asked him today….

Sherlock didn't realize how much he missed not knowing someone like William before the said man entered his life. And on that train ride home, it seemed as if Sherlock had spent his life looking for him. So right now, for the first time ever, he started to believe in luck, because there was no explanation of why he was allowed to be this euphoric.

In fact, he couldn't even admit to himself what had happened before they parted ways. There was no way it was real, he wouldn't, couldn't even allow his mind to replay the scenery.

The detective was looking outside the window of his compartment, zoning out, the coat of Liam still on his back. That coat had no right to smell that much like William did, how was that even legal? Having something from William on him made him smile lightly, a warm feeling surrounding him.

But Sherlock's happiness came from various different reasons, one of them being Liam finally looking better than before. Even if Sherlock knows as a certitude that wounds aren't that fast at healing, progress was made and that alone brought him immense joy. 

Another reason was…let's say the day's events in general. Going in precisions would bring him to admit he had held William in his arms when they fell, and that they may have kissed. The thought only broke his thinking process and made him act on autopilot as he got out of the train and walked to his home in a night full of stars. 

He should ask William to see him again soon, shouldn't he? Well….the other was a busy man and he shouldn't bother him too much. But was he going to wait for a letter to see his Liam again? Sighh a shame he couldn't have stayed with him. Why was he always that eager to see the blond man, too? He swears some cases were easier to file than this weird sensation of his. 

Feelings were always more complicated to him than objects or cases. As a detective, he had to find a killer, a motive, a weapon... But what was the motive for love? Was there even a motive to be found? 

When do you even realize a sweet affection is becoming profound love? Because what he felt was love, so he believes. What a weird feeling… he was hopeless without Liam, hopeless to feel his affection, but felt accomplished with him. 

A silence surrounded him, London was really calm at night and that stopped his questioning. Walking by a park, he sat on a bench. Why not take his time for once? Taking his time to think, to act, to be himself. No need to rush things, right?

The city was asleep as he looked up to the sky, thousands of stars looking back at him, filling his eyes with nothing but beauty. A full moon rising brightly reminding him of Liam, that man was as pretty as the moon. 

Sherlock was aware he was too outgoing, and many called him out for having an exhausting personality, not wanting to stay around him. He would always say what he wants and think, then would act accordingly. That earned him some admiration but annoyance from many. He could see himself as a shooting star, burning bright but dying fast, soon forgotten.

The moon, on the contrary, wouldn't be forgotten on any occasion. The light of the moon had a calming reassurance, it is always present at the end of a tiring day, when you feel like nothing else is stable. Watching the sun, you would want to look away as the light could damage your eyes. The moon has no price to look at for too long, allowing you to dream awake, dream of a future, dream of happiness.

A new moon was calm and reserved, as trying to hide its pain from everyone while staying alone. Sherlock made it his mission to find a way to stop the sad silence of those days.

A waxing and waning croissant showed a bit of hope to the world, allowing Sherlock to believe the light would come back forever. 

The first and third quarters were two sides of a coin, a balance between sadness and happiness, hope and despair. Those were made for both laughs and cries, such a sweet balance.

Then, the waxing and waning gibbous allowed the laughs to be more outgoing, while the cries got less intense. The key to happiness could be felt right outside the door, he just needed to find the right key to access it.

Finally, the full moon was so bright it almost blinded him. The smiles, the heartwarming sensations.. Everything feels right.

For a long time, the moon had been a new moon. The night after their discussion in Sherlock's room, he could feel it being a waxing croissant, hopeful but unsure. This night, after the day he spent, the moon was full, lighting up his path.

Lost in his thoughts, Sherlock wasn't sure anymore if he was thinking of a certain professor or the actual natural satellite. Maybe both but frankly, nothing of this was ever about the sky.

….The stars seemed to sparkle brighter than before.

Weren't galaxies only the sky's dust to us? Did we matter compared to them? Maybe someone else in Durham was wondering the same questions right now.

But if stars are truly the sky's dust, then he's grateful to be able to witness such a messy canvas.

Wasn't life such a treasure?

Chapter Text

___________

“The entirety of Great Britain now fears the lord of crime, William. Do you want us to move to the next step? By the way, what is the next step of your plan?” 

Albert had come specially to Durham to plan the next M6 mission for William, but also to check on him. Now, he realized it may not have been useful; Will was glowing. 

Although, at the mention of the following step, his younger brother had tensed a little. Was there a change in plans? Was something forcing them to postpone the reveal of their names to the world? Albert was more than ready to atone for his crimes and a few weeks prior, the same seemed to be true of his brother.

“I don't have directives to give you today yet, but that will come soon. Are you that eager to throw our past behind?” William smiled lightly. From far away, their conversation seemed normal, but it was nothing but the contrary. They were planning on their downfall with a smile and William was slowly realizing there was no way for him to make it out unscarred.

“But I'll assure you I'll go back to you differently after making up my mind. Shouldn't be too long or complicated, but until then enjoy some time off work will you? I'm not the only one who's been overworked I believe.”

What William meant to tell his brother was “Please, enjoy a few days of your life without burdens. It's all going down after and I will have no way of fixing it. Please, rest, feel alive, it's maybe the last time you'll feel alright in a while.” 

But of course, he didn't say it. There was no way for him to admit he didn't want the plans to come to an end anymore, not after all they've gone through to achieve their dream.

______________

“So, William. When will we pass to the next step of your plan?” 

The words spiraled in his mind long after Albert left for London, the blond haired man now sitting at his desk writing possible outcomes even though only one truly worked.

Tick tack. The sound of his watch grew loud, as if it tried telling him he ran out of time.

William had been scheming around his own death for a while. It never bothered him planning a thing he almost yearned for, choosing the date and way of his death had something soothing. But after the afternoon he had just passed understanding a bit what happiness would feel like to him, there was no way to go back. 

Tick tack

William was in a dilemma that he never thought would even exist: on one side, there was the warmth of a new discovered feeling of ease. On the other, a lifelong plan to destroy England's class society for the better.

Tick tack

What would Sherly think if he knew Liam was the famous Lord of Crime he had spent months searching for? Would he still hold him in dear esteem, or would he try to go after him? Was there a way for William to tell the truth with the detective accepting it, while his plans were still in place? 

Tick tack 

With all these doomed questions and now that Sherlock wasn't here to allow his thoughts to calm down anymore, he again had some difficulty breathing. It was dim but it was present.

Tick tack

His eyes didn't allow him to see all of what should have been around him. Come on William. Use that brain you're called a genius for! Think! Find a solution!

Tick tack

The peaceful and heart-warming light surrounding him grew dimmer and dimmer. What if Sherlock hated him for it? He had to tell the truth at some point anyways, would he hunt him down? Did he put his plan in danger finding reassurance in the detective?

Tick tack

He started scratching his arms without even realizing it, his breath more and more heavy, lost in conjectures. No, Sherlock would never accept him being a killer. He was an incarnation of evil, a demon among other demons. Looking at his hands to see them shivering proved his past thoughts right as carmine blood seemed to be dripping all over them. Only, it wasn't his blood. It never was. And deep down, he felt as if it should be his. Only now there was a side of him trying to fight back the urge, a new found hope. And maybe it was even worse having found a reason to live, him leaving will be even harder. 

Tick tack 

Sherlock would definitely hate him from all his heart now. William had lied to him, listened to plans and possible outcomes from him while being the entire solution to the investigation. Even for their discussions and affection, Sherly would think Liam had manipulated him when it was all but true. William had never seen the detective as a pawn in his game, but as a friend, maybe more, bringing him the only calm moments of the last few tormented months. Knowing that the raven-haired man would hate him wasn't bearable.

Tick tack

His mind remembering the calm he had felt only a few dozen of hours prior didn't help while he went back into old habits. Yes, he was going to die. Yes, it was his choice. There was no way Sherlock would forgive him and always be there to help him ease his mind. If death was the only way for his mind to calm down then yes, he will choose that option. If he stays alive any longer he'll allow himself to feel hopeful, and when that hope shatters he will sink even deeper in darkness. No, he won't allow it.

“It's…settled, then. We'll move the plan and make it happen the sooner the better.”  William said to himself to gain some composure, a single tear falling on his hands as he smiled faintly. Deep down, he wasn't ready to go.

Chapter Text

_____________

“....are you sure it's the best option? Isn't revealing our names to the world enough to gain responsibility for our actions?”

“The bourgeoisie and proletariat need more than a common enemy, they need a reason to save their city together. That will soon be the case, I'm sure you'll like the idea.”

“Is it arson?” 

“Of course it's arson, Al. Which time haven't we solved our problems with arson?” William smiled as if he just didn't prove the final step of the plan to be his death.

“But to manage the play to be complete, revealing my name will be the best solution. Then, I will ask the dear detective to take out the villain as a public execution of the demons of our society.”

“I know your plans aren't disputable, but is there really no other option?” Albert knew he was repeating himself but felt as William was going too far for their cause. Sure, they were all ready to die for the plan but this.. Will didn't need to go all the way to his death, did he? There were other ways to atone for crimes.

“I've made my choice, Al. Besides, I already want to die.” The last sentence was firm and said without hesitations, as if William had thought many times about that outcome. That hurt Albert to think his younger brother was ready for such a terrible fate. That…didn't seem fair.

“...very well then, dear brother. I'll try to help you until your very last day and atone for my crimes later. After all, we're the only ones making our name public. Thanks for letting me know beforehand about the plan.” Al squeezed Will's shoulder, but then decided to hug him. They will have to be strong, William to look death in the eyes, and Albert to suffer the loss of a brother and possible imprisonment.

“Let's now ask everyone to come join us, I'll tell them what the final act of our play will be.” He coughed and smiled slightly, reassuring the other even though their life will all fall crumbling soon.

_____________

“Hey Louis. Can't sleep after Will’s communication of our final plans?” Fred and Louis were the only persons roaming the corridor at this late hour, trying to comprehend what had been told to them earlier.

“I..a little, yes, and I'm guessing it's the same for you. We now all know what the last step will be, for the better or maybe for the worst.” Louis's eyes were red, avoiding the other's gaze. It was clear he wasn't sure if he wanted to assume his thoughts and looked as if he had been crying.

“I know its late but do you want me to make you some tea? You look like you need to get things off your chest.” 

“That would be pleasant, thanks.” 

Louis went to sit at a table in the kitchen while Fred made some water boil. “So? What is it?”

“Are you….agreeing to my brother's plan? I know William's plans are absolute but this time… urgh. It doesn't feel right. He's the only one sacrificing himself, that's not fair! He's the one making this country change, we would have done nothing without him. I… I don't want him to die.”

Fred understood immediately what Louis meant to say. That man was the last one who would ever betray William's plans, but it was him coming up to Fred asking for ideas to save Will. He himself also thought unfair the plans William was making himself go through, but what could they do to save him?

“I agree with everything you've said, we're all in this together so we should all atone our crimes together. I've been thinking about something… but that would mean betraying orders and maybe risking the failure of our lifelong plan.”

“Im..not sure. But tell me your idea and we'll see if it will greatly impact the plan or not.” Even now, with his brother's life on the line, Louis hesitated to betray orders. But what could he do? He followed both his brother's ideas from childhood and now, he had to choose between living his life in regrets or remorse. But it was his brother's life: he was willing to ruin the operation a good dozen of times if it meant for the man to be safe and alive. There was no way for him to live in a new world without William, that world would simply have no value at all.

“So…you know how Mr.Holmes is involved? When we make your brother's name public, that man will surely understand what will happen next, don't you think? We can try asking him not to kill, but save Will. That's the only viable option in my opinion. What do you think?” 

At the name of the detective, Louis wanted to get so angry. How come he was helpless next to his brother's death but that man, who was way too close to William, was capable of such a positive ending? It didn't seem half as fair as it was. But he felt as if the other man was right, they should ask that favor to Sherlock Holmes. After all, there was no way this man would agree to kill his close friend, right? “Sighh very well. You're right, he's our only chance. Let's write a letter to meet with him for our request.”

As the two men began thinking of phrasing in their request, they didn't know another person was writing a letter to the same detective at that exact moment, the only difference being to end a life and not save it.

Chapter Text

_________________

William was sitting at his desk with his thoughts and a piece of paper. He tried to find a way to start his letter, looking around for inspiration.

The moon could be seen outside the window, which annoyed the blond haired man. Why would anyone like the moon? There was nothing crazy about it. Even knowing the moon is dead, everyone still admired its beauty at night, shining when dying and nothing would ever change that. 

Looking back at his empty letter and zooming back into reality, William felt an urge to throw up. The feeling stopped after a few minutes squirming his hand on his chest, but left him with a feeling of unease and pain. 

What was his body trying to tell him, because he could listen! Only there was nothing to listen or do, it was just..like this. And William had more than enough to accept what his stupid body dictated to him. A new resolution in mind, he started writing his letter to Sherlock.

Dear Sherlock,

I'm sorry. I should have told you sooner, I am the lord of crime. Tomorrow, most journals will publish my identity to the world and I will be hunted down. I have the hope you will be the one to put an end to my play for good. 

And please don't find anything in my previous behavior that'll make you hesitate to kill me, I used you from the start for that exact moment. So I hope you will do what should be done when next Saturday I will stand above London Bridge at sunrise.

Why was the paper wet suddenly? Oh right. 

Tears were uncontrollably falling from Liam's face, who tried unsuccessfully to stop them. Why was he so weak? Why. Couldn't. He. Simply. Accept. Faith.

Because each time he wrote a lie to Sherly, he imagined the betrayal the other would feel. Is there a way for William to accept the hate the other will show for him during his own last moments? He wanted Sherlock to be there when he would fall, only him. But the thought of the other making him reproaches on his deathbed wasn't bearable. Only, the detective would be in his right to do, with all that the lord of crime hid from him.

William tried bringing air to his lungs even though it didn't stop the feeling of suffocation that was invading his chest. Let's put an end to this masquerade now and here.

He's done it. He sealed the letter for Sherly, sealed his faith and lost some of the last hope he yielded onto at the same time. Was the letter a call for help or a resignation? Maybe Sherlock would see both, but even William didn't know what he fully meant and wanted with that envelope. He wanted the well doing of their operation, that was sure. So let's say nothing else will matter from now on. After all, only the operation ever mattered, right? He only got closer to the detective to fool him, isn't that true?

******* ********

William woke up crying. Nightmares were common occurrences to him but this time, the night before his death, a sweet dream found its way into his troubled mind. He was walking away from his life of crime with a detective, all smiles, who forgave his crimes and would spend time with him even after knowing what atrocities William had committed. 

If a genie came up to him at that exact instant, he knew which wish he'd make. If only that outcome was possible…

William sat on the edge of his bed, the chilliness of the night making him shiver. Would it be the last time he feels this way? Looking at a dark room crying, but also in the calm of a peaceful night? He tried to enjoy the moment, which quickly ended up being a difficult task knowing the upcoming events.

There isn't a stranger sensation than waking up crying. It seemed calming but was also terrifying. The feeling of letting go of tears without suffering was soothing, but for some reason he also never wanted to feel that way again.

Why was his mind playing tricks on him? There was no way a future as bright as that dream was allowed for him, he had chosen his path. He had chosen his way of life, and now his way of death. But forcing that thought onto his mind didn't go without consequences and his breathing became sharp.

Why was he allowing his body to decide how he should feel? 

Without warning, the sweet night became the impersonation of a monster he believed being.

He was now fully awake and the sadly habitual pain grew back in his chest, arms seemingly calling out to be filled with colours and for a slight moment he wanted to hurt them, hurt himself. That…could finally make him feel better and bring the relief he lacked, and that thought only scared him. 

No. 

No. 

He couldn't do that.

He didn't want to do that. 

Come on. Breathe. Concentrate on that sound. Concentrate on that feeling and not the other one. It's not really calling you. It's not your voice asking for that. It's not. It isn't. Breathe. Breathe.

William tried putting his mind on something else, so he turned on the lights and started writing equations, that action would surely occupy his mind. His right hand was flying above the paper, trying to help him run away from unwanted thoughts and feelings.

***** ******

The next morning, Louis could find his brother asleep at his desk, hands covered in black ink with what could be seen as hundreds of papers covered in equations spread across the room, covering the desk and floor. 

Gently laying a blanket on the man's back, Louis decided his brother could wake up later that day, he would need to be strong to die for their cause. Looking at his peaceful brother sleeping, tears filled his eyes.

They would all need to be strong.