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William James Moriarty was an incredibly knowledgeable young man.
He took pride in that fact, as it was their sharpest weapon, the tool that has helped them get this far. Of course, all three Moriarty brothers had their wits, and they knew how to use their charms just as well, use it to earn the trust of some truly unfortunate and unsuspecting fellows.
Their desire to correct this godforsaken country outweighs everything else. However, that doesn’t mean they can’t enjoy certain things from time to time.
For William, it brought great pleasure to get immersed in the diverse world of numbers, equations and formulas. He wished to share his knowledge and passion with those interested, hence his decision to become a professor at the University of Durham.
Sometimes, if you paid close attention, you could spot a small, soft smile playing on his lips as he strolled through the campus, occasionally checking in on his students. He enjoyed the lively atmosphere, liked seeing all the youthful souls not yet corrupted by the rotten society they live in. No.
He wouldn’t let them become corrupted.
He swore to save those crushed under the filthy shoes of the nobility, to bring an end to the never-ending discrimination he has witnessed and felt upon his own skin oh so many times.
It was his duty as the Lord of Crime.
On this particular day, he wasn’t present in the class. His students were currently taking an exam in mathematics, supervised by a different professor while he busied himself with correcting a stack of already filled-out papers. When the time was almost up, he stood from his desk to saunter down the hallways and see how they were progressing.
‘I wonder if I might have made the last problem a bit too difficult…’
The supervisor, who was not doing a great job with the task assigned to him, awoke from his peaceful slumber as the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard from the corridor. The door creaked open, revealing none other than William.
Sighs of relief filled the room. Finally, the test was over.
Before leaving a few of the pupils voiced their concerns regarding the final problem – that there was no way anyone could’ve solved it – then they all filed out the door, leaving their professor alone, who started organizing the papers into a neat folder.
William’s days weren’t boring. There was always work to deal with, schemes to be planned out to the very last detail, darkness to get rid of.
That, however, did not guarantee that his thoughts wouldn’t go wandering, that the walls of the iron cage he constructed with the utmost care to lock his desires in wouldn’t crack eventually. Once in while his true feelings would slip right through those tiny cracks and they would torture him mercilessly.
He did not have doubts. He was hell-bent to achieve his goal he has been working towards since forever.
Still, every now and then ‘what ifs’ would plague his mind, and just for a few painful moments, he would indulge in them.
‘What if I wasn’t the Lord of Crime…
What if I could live as just-‘
“Liam!”
A familiar voice grabbed him and forcefully dragged him back into reality.
Even if he knew very well to whom this voice belonged, for a second he was caught off guard, his brain unable to connect sound to image. Therefore, he turned around and was greeted by the sight of the Great Detective, Sherlock Holmes himself descending the aisles. And that split second was enough for Sherlock to take notice of these hairline cracks, to wedge something in there, and try to pry them open.
“Professor~ Did I pass your test?” he asked with a playful grin as he advanced, the paper held in his left-hand fluttering with the motion.
William took note of his appearance, how his clothing was obviously in need of some straightening, his confident posture, how the light infiltrating the classroom through the large windows fell on and bounced off his disheveled locks.
And right then, William knew he was a goner.
“…Mr. Holmes?”
“Yo, Liam! Surprised to see me?”
“Ah, well, I do have to admit I was not expecting your visit. Did you take the exam alongside my students?”
“Heh, I wanted to see your lecture at least once but alas, there was an exam being taken. Score this for me though, will you?” Sherlock held out his test for Liam, who gingerly took it from him.
Certainly, Sherlock’s sudden appearance had been a surprise, but far from an unwelcome one.
“Also,” he continued “didn’t you promise me that we’d have dinner after the train incident?”
William decided this was the time he should look elsewhere lest Sherlock catches sight of the delighted smile forming on his lips. He didn’t want to give in so easily.
“I don’t recall saying I’d go” he replied, tucking the paper into the folder alongside the others.
“Oh c’mon! Don’t be so mean, it’s the reason I came to Durham in the first place! And I traveled such a long distance, too! Surely you can spare me a bit of your time? There’s so much I want to talk about with you!”
William’s resolve was breaking, but he didn’t mind it. He should have, but when things came to this particular detective there was always some kind of a twist.
William was supposed to be the spider here. The one to weave the thread, to build intricate webs, and trap careless bugs in them. Sherlock, however, was neither careless nor a bug. He was a different species of spider, one that even William needs to look out for.
Whereas in William’s work every single line was deliberately put in place, slowly, as to not make mistakes, Sherlock’s seemed to be haphazardly thrown together, aiming for a complex, confusing design.
William liked order. He would create patterns that were easy to see through and maneuver in for him, but not for his prey. He created a beautiful, yet deadly field of fine silk.
Likewise, he liked to keep his thoughts and feelings organized too. Those being useful would be kept at hand, while those deemed to be only hindrances were banished to the back of his mind to never see the light of day.
Whatever he did though, they still existed somewhere.
And maybe thanks to those stubborn thoughts fighting to break free of their chains is why William hasn’t noticed a different thread delicately wrap around him and trap him in place.
’’ Is that so?” he asked, moving towards the door with Sherlock in tow ’’I was planning to score these exams during my lunch break. Is it okay if we talk during that time?”
The excited puppy look the detective was giving him told him it was more than okay.
’’ However, I have another lecture scheduled for second period.”
’’ Can I sit in for your next lecture?”
’’ I don’t mind. Well then, I’m going to drop these exams off and grab the materials we’ll need.”
’’Okay!”
Undoubtedly, Sherlock’s intention wasn’t a simple friendly visit.
Knowing the detective and how he had accused him of being the Lord of Crime, he was trying to confirm his assumption even now.
Albert explained in detail what occurred in the chapel when he met up with Ms. Adler.
From there William knew the detective had three leads to go on:
1, The scent of the Lord of Crime’s cologne,
2, The sound of his voice,
3, The size of his hand - as only that much was visible through the damaged grid of the run-down confessional.
None of those things could be linked to William, so the detective would find himself at a dead-end here, likely making him reconsider his original profile of the criminal.
However, it will not rule out the possibility that William is an accomplice of him. It matters hardly though, as Sherlock has yet to find any kind of evidence of that.
While William was teaching his class, his gaze would stray from the blackboard to his students to make sure they were following. He would see Sherlock observing him, looking for a certain something with a serious expression on his face.
‘Inspect all you want, My Dear Detective, for you’ll find nothing at all…’
The roaring sound of the water fountain in the school’s yard was a nice touch to their peaceful lunch break.
William enjoyed listening to the white noise made by the rushing water. It was a calming, comforting sound, despite it reminding him of the inevitable fate he will have to face.
He was scoring the exams as he said he would, while also paying attention to what Sherlock had to say to him.
His ink pen gently glided on the paper, drawing ticks and Xs where it was due.
At first, Sherlock tried to be discreet and only glanced at his hand for merely a second at a time, but then he seemed to give up and started to openly follow the movements with his gaze.
“I came to talk to you about the Lord of Crime…”
“Mhm. Was there any progress with the case?”
Sherlock took out a roll of tobacco. He grasped a match, pressed the head into the striker, igniting it, and brought the small flame closer to himself to light his cigarette.
“Yes. Now I’ve got a clear look at his profile. And you know what I think? Our Lord of Crime is a noble criminal…On the street, he is treated like a hero. Someone who delivers punishment and brings justice to those in need…” he sighed “He’s basically Dextera Domini in the eyes of the commoners…”
“A bit of an exaggeration, isn’t it?”
“That it is, Liam.”
“So, what are you going to do about it? On one hand, if you also think he’s acting in the light of the greater good, you have the option to overlook it. On the other hand, you have the option of condemning him for carrying out criminal acts without reason.”
Sherlock exhaled a puff of smoke, watching it disperse into the air before answering.
“A red pill - blue pill game, huh? Well of course, even if those people had a good reason to be killed, that doesn’t mean it’s alright to decide by yourself who deserves to die.”
William smiled.
‘That’s right, Mr. Holmes. Follow that line of thought. Come and catch the Lord of Crime. Please.
“I will catch and condemn him… he will take responsibility for his crimes”
William should be pleased by what the detective just said. He should be. After all, that is what he wanted, wasn’t it? It is what needs to be done. It has been set in stone from the very beginning. Then why is there a part of him that’s anxious, a part that fears the future?
“As you should. Guilty people should be held accountable for their sins.”
Sherlock frowned.
William’s voice was light as he said that, his tone neutral. However, something still felt off.
Sherlock couldn’t put a finger on it. It wasn’t like what the professor said sounded dishonest. It just sounded like there was something left unsaid.
“’ The eyes are the mirror of the soul…’” Sherlock mumbled.
“Hm? Did you say something, Mr. Holmes?”
William raised his head to cast a glance towards Sherlock. The detective did his best to make the most of this moment and try to find something in that fiery gaze of his. And there the most evident emotion he could see was resignation. Maybe, just maybe he could see traces of sorrow, of hurt, of want, but they were quickly masked up.
Sherlock was a selfish bastard.
He knew that this game would once come to an end, but if he were completely honest, he didn’t want that to happen, not yet. This was the most fun he has had in a very long time.
If Liam turned out to be the Lord of Crime, then Sherlock would be a little lost. After all, what he had been searching for most of his life, he found it in Liam. He was the only one that really understood Sherlock. He was intelligent, snarky, goal-oriented, but that was just the surface. The rest was still hidden under carefully fabricated disguises and fake smiles. He was a mystery, and Sherlock would be damned if he didn’t try to unravel that mystery.
If Liam turned out to be the Lord of Crime, then Sherlock would have to hand him over to the police. That would be the logical thing to do. Then again, Sherlock often had different opinions and ideas than the police. And this time was no exception.
If Liam turned out to be the Lord of Crime, then Sherlock would catch and condemn him in his own way.
“I’m glad I could talk to you about this, Liam”
“And I’m glad I could be of help”
Once again, a comfortable silence settled between them, and Sherlock went back to watching William work. That was until he finally spotted his own name in the top right corner of the next paper.
He wasn’t all that confident in his math skills, but that wasn’t important at the moment.
He focused on observing William’s facial expression. It was bound to change once he gets to the little message Sherlock left him at the bottom of the page, he just didn’t know what kind of expression it would turn into.
He caught the exact moment William read the sentence, saw his eyes widen, but whatever he expected to happen next was surely not this.
He did not predict the beautiful tinkling laughter that bubbled up from William’s throat.
Sherlock was mesmerized. He loved Liam’s sly, cunning side but this, this was something entirely different, something just so pure and so real…
“Oh my…what is the meaning of this, Mr. Holmes?” he asked with a chuckle
“Ah…” waking from his stupor, Sherlock suddenly felt a little flustered “how do I explain it…”
It might have done well for Sherlock to think about this beforehand. Because the message in question was:
‘Are you a 45-degree angle, because you’re perfect.’
It wasn’t his brightest pick-up line, but it was one that reflected his honest feelings.
“That is arguable, but I’ll take the compliment” William smiled “Thank you”
Sherlock might have felt silly, but it was so worth it to finally hear his Liam’s genuine laughter.
“By the way, Mr. Holmes… you got zero on the test”
Well, that was a bit embarrassing.
“I-“
“But” William cut him off before he could continue “I’m willing to give you one more chance. Answer this one question for me, please.” He scribbled something down on the paper and slid it over to Sherlock with a wink.
It was Sherlock’s turn to laugh this time.
‘I heard you like math, so what’s the sum of U+Me, assuming you were sin2x and I were cos2x?’
Luckily for him, that was one he could easily answer.
‘If I were sin2x and you were cos2x, together we’d be one.’
William grinned at him as he read it.
“Alright, it seems you passed this test, Mr. Detective.”
“Sorry for leaving so soon, Liam. I really would’ve liked to spend more time with you.”
“It was a short but memorable time. You’re welcome to visit me again.”
“Maybe you could drop by 221B next time you’re in London.”
“Perhaps I will”
The sharp sound of the train’s horn cut through the air as the guard announced that they’ll be departing shortly.
Sherlock climbed the three iron steps to get on the train but turned back when he heard his name being called.
William stood on the platform, his coat swaying with the gentle wind. The pinks and oranges of the sunset illuminated his figure in such a way, that it made his eyes glow even brighter.
“Catching the Lord of Crime may prove to be more difficult of a task than you might anticipate. You should make sure to return alive and well after arresting him. Please take care, Sherlock.”
The second call of the horn rang before William could finish his speech, but Sherlock still heard him loud and clear, the cigarette falling from his lips in his surprise.
“Did you call me Sherlock!?”
“Hm? Did I?”
Sherlock grinned “We’re still playing that game after today?”
“I don’t know what you mean, Mr. Holmes”
His Liam was sure a tough nut to crack, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Now being certain that his affections were at least partially reciprocated, he was even more motivated to uncover all sides of the genius professor, William James Moriarty. Come hell or high water, he was not giving up on this person.
“…Ha! Alright.” the wheels started to turn, and the heavy train began to move “I’ll make sure to come back to you, Liam! See you in London!”
“Yes…with pleasure. We will definitely meet again.”
William watched the train go until it disappeared into the distance. By now the sun has fully vanished from the horizon, and the first star merrily twinkled above him.
“The eyes are the mirror of the soul indeed…” he mused looking at the star as if it would answer him.
“’ The eyes are the mirror of the soul and reflect everything that seems to be hidden; and like a mirror, they also reflect the person looking into them.’ I hope I’ve shown enough for you to understand what I could not tell you before.”
William did not believe in fairy tales. Nor was he superstitious, for that matter. The time when he would wish upon a star was long gone. He might have even considered it a bit childish.
Yet looking at that small sparkling dot in the sky now, he found he had nothing to lose if he asked for a little assistance just this once.
So he closed his eyes and wished. And he kept silent about it, as he did about many things. Because wishes don’t come true if you tell them.