Chapter Text
The three Moriarty brothers were gathered around the table for dinner like they always did. Sometimes, the other people occupying the house would join them, but they quickly understood that the dinner was special for the brothers when Albert was able to be there. It was the time for quiet and deep, personal conversations, sometimes unrelated to their plan. This evening again, William could feel that a matter bothered Louis and that since the beginning of the dinner he wanted to speak up about it. Finally, after some time he gathered the courage to speak up. He turned to William, hesitant.
“ Brother… are you smoking? “
There was silence in the dining room. Both Albert and William stopped eating. Louis started talking again, seeing the awkward tension that suddenly fell in the room.
“ I’m just saying that because when I was cleaning, I smelt some scents of cigarette in your room and I thought you disliked that… Is everything alright? “
Instinctively, William looked at Albert and met his eyes. He knew. Of course, he knew. Albert himself was hiding shameful secrets, but there was a silent pact between the two of them to never speak about it. How could he explain that to Louis? How could he explain to him that he smoked because he missed the smelt of a certain man? How could he explain that as he laid on his bed, inhaling the smoke as his head was spinning, he was picturing the black-haired man over him, his body pressed against his?
But there was no point denying it either. Louis may be a bit oblivious, but he wasn’t stupid either. Gathering himself, William started eating again, trying his best to look calm and composed.
“ Yes, it happens from time to time when I am under stress. I apologize for the trouble, Louis. You don’t have to take care of my room you know, I can do this on my own. “
Louis nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer and William let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. The rest of the dinner went by without further incident. But William could still feel the heavy gaze of Albert on him. Was it concern? Curiosity? Disaprovation? Judgment? William didn't want to know, so he chose to ignore it.
They finished eating, talking about meaningless things then gathered around a last glass of whiskey before heading to bed when they noticed that the moon was already high in the dark sky. William bid his goodbyes to his brothers and headed to his room. He tried not to walk too fast, not to rush to his guilty pleasure.
As soon as William made sure he wouldn’t be disturbed for a long time, he locked the door of his room. He didn’t want to take any risk to be disturbed, even if due to the late hour it was most unlikely. He sat behind his desk and with a key he was always keeping in his pocket, opened a drawer. Amongst a few shameful things, there was a pack of cigarettes. He delicately pulled out one with his long fingers and lit it up. The match briefly made his red and lustful eyes shine in the darkness of the room. He inhaled the smoke then let it out, throwing his head back and feeling his body relaxing. He hated it. Hated how it burned his throat, hated how he could feel it rotting his lungs. Tomorrow morning, he will probably wake up coughing and his throat dry, making Louis worried. But as disgusting it might be, this cigarette was for him the only string linking him to his detective. When he was smoking, he was feeling as if something was connecting them. They were so far from each other; by the distance, of course, but also by their personal beliefs. It was as if they were standing on different sides of a river; they could see each other, understand even. But they couldn’t reach each other. So that cigarette was the only bridge able to reunite them in William’s mind. Sometimes, he wished he could throw away everything and go in the water; swimming to be on the side of Sherlock. But he couldn’t allow himself to get wet, that wasn’t part of his plan.
Sometimes, like tonight, he would feel lonely, despite his brothers being in the same house than him and talking to him just a moment ago. His body would ache for pleasure no one but a certain man would be able to give him. During these times, he would move from the chair of his desk to lay in his bed, the cigarette still in his mouth. He would throw away his waistcoat, undoing his tie with trembling fingers as if it was suffocating him. He would open a few buttons of his shirt, brushing his milky skin and shivering under the light touch. He would close his eyes, let his head spin with the smoke wrapping him. He would picture the man; his dark blue eyes and his strong jaw, his messy black hair freed from the usual ponytail; dark curls falling on his shoulders. He would feel his body pressed against his, a breath on his ear as he would whisper some sweet or naughty words. In the heat of his lonely room, panting, William would slide his hand under his pants, his teeth clenching around the cigarette, trying to suppress the moans coming from his mouth. He would come, the name of the detective on his tongue as he finally opens his mouth, gasping for air. The cigarette consumed now, would fall on his chest as his brain comes back to normal. He was ashamed of himself every time, but he couldn’t help. He was far too intoxicated by the man, there was no going back.
_________________________________
William was sitting on a bench in the park. He was letting his mind wander around as he was smoking one of his last cigarettes. Playing with the nearly empty packet, he wondered how and when he smoked all of these cigarettes.
It was supposed to be just a cigarette, only twice a week.
He nearly jumped when a hand appeared above his shoulder, delicately taking the cigarette from his mouth. He turned to face Sherlock Holmes, who came behind him without making a sound. The detective rose the stolen cigarette to his own lips. Once again, they were meeting. It happened more than it should. Were they really meeting by chance, or was the detective chasing after him? Or maybe was it fate playing cruel tricks, reuniting them again and again, but not allowing them to stay together.
This time, the detective had a serious look on his face as his gaze was lingering on William, his dark grey eyes piercing his soul. This look made William feel uneasy and fiverish at the same time.
“ That’s what I thought, last time I saw you I was sure that I could scent a familiar scent on you. I thought you weren’t found smoking, Liam…? “
The latter smiled softly at him.
“ It’s just a cigarette, mister Holmes. Just like you used to, am I right? “
The dark-haired man snorted.
“ It was different then. I don’t need them to be cool. “
“ What are you implying, Mister detective? I can stop whenever I can. “
This was a lie. Because what William was addicted to wasn’t the cigarette itself, but the man standing behind him. “
“ It’s just a cigarette, but soon there will be only ten. “
“ And what’s the matter with that? “
Sherlock leaned in, his arms resting on the backseat of the bench and his face came closer to Liam as he spoke with a low voice, breathing out the smoke.
“ It will harm your pretty lungs. “
William turned his head in an attempt to hide the light blush on his cheeks, pretending to be interested in children passing by. There was a silence.
“ Don’t be stupid… I told you, I can stop when I want. “
Sherlock sighed, seeing that he wouldn’t have the last word in this conversation. he leaned back and looked at the almost fully consumed cigarette between his fingers.
“ Hey, this is the same brand I use, isn’t it? “
William had another innocent smile.
“ Oh, really? I didn’t notice. What a coincidence. “
He was pretty sure Sherlock wouldn’t buy this, but what could he say? In the end, without further explanations on why he happened to be in the same park, in the same town at the same hour as William, Sherlock left, handing the finished cigarette to William.
“ Alright, I need to go… See you soon, Liam. You better quit smoking before I run into you again. It doesn’t suit you… “
Once he was sure to be alone, William carefully opened his hand, revealing what was left of the cigarette. He slowly rose it to his mouth, closing his lips around it, his eyelids shut, almost trembling. Of course, there was nothing left to smoke. But he was trying to remember Sherlock’s lips on the same spot just a minute ago. That was all he deserved, but it already felt too much. It sent shivers through his spine.
“ I’m sorry, Sherlock… I don’t think I’ll be stopping anytime soon. You will need to try harder if you want to save me so bad… “