Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The pitter-patter of raindrops against the glass windows was the only sound in the otherwise silent room, adding to the eeriness in the atmosphere. Yet the sole occupant of the room did not mind it, staring out the window blankly at the departing cars.

Emerald green eyes glowed in the soft golden lights, the young man turning his gaze away from the outside and studying the room he was currently in. It was decorated rather garishly for his tastes, but considering that it had belonged to his late father, he supposed it was justified. The man had loved his luxuries, after all.

The opening of the door caught his attention and he looked at the man who had just entered. “The guests have all left, Young Master Albert,” Jack said, bowing his head a little.

“Will you ever stop calling me that?” Albert asked instead of acknowledging the other man’s words, a faint smile playing on his lips. “You aren’t quite under my service.”

Jack laughed heartily, a stark contrast to the gloomy interior of the mansion and their dark clothes that clearly spoke of mourning. “Habits are hard to break. I spent many years calling you Master, after all. Besides, it’s not like you don’t slip and call me ‘instructor’ at times.”

Albert simply shrugged at the tease, well aware that it was true.

An outsider might question the relationship between the two, since Albert was the eldest son of the famous Moriarty family and now, the only living member. His parents and younger brother had died in a plane crash a few weeks ago, leaving him the sole inheritor of the massive Moriarty fortune. And Jack was a part of the Moriarty’s business, having worked his way up the ladder, a trusted employee with majority of the company under his control.

‘It is odd,’ the brunet thought, slipping out of the study and heading towards his own room. ‘This is another life, another era, and yet those three have died.’

Jack followed the young man, discreetly studying Albert’s room. It wasn’t the first time he had seen it, but it always took him off-guard; it was far less opulent than the rest of the mansion, decorated in mild colors and simple furniture. Instead of expensive ornaments, shelves filled with books covered the walls, ranging from fiction to politics.

“I think the number of books has increased since my last visit,” Jack remarked, raising an eyebrow at the other.

Albert smiled, a tinge of melancholy coloring his green eyes. “Every time I see something interesting, I think that they would like to read it and instantly buy it.”

The older man’s expression sobered. “If they are out there, we will find them.”

“If they are out there.”

“I might have said that, but I believe that there is a high chance that they are,” Jack said with a serious expression. “Even if they do not have their memories like we do, they must have reincarnated too.”

Nodding to that, Albert settled at his desk. Unlike the general population, he had memories of another life, a life where he had lived as the Lord of Crime during the 19^th century. It had come as a shock when those memories had awakened, little by little after he had turned ten. By the time he had become sixteen, all of his memories had returned.

Jack was the same. The man had been working as a senior executive in the Moriarty family’s business, having chosen to drift towards something familiar, even if it was only the name. What a pleasant surprise he had had, when he had realized that the young heir of the company was the Albert James Moriarty he had served in another life.

“If I didn’t know that you don’t have any such inclinations anymore, I would have thought that you had orchestrated your family’s deaths,” the older man mused absently, perusing the books on the shelves.

Albert chuckled, not taking offense at the words. “It does look like I could have planned it, right? But I have no need for their deaths, when my only concern is finding William and Louis.”

He leaned back in his chair, looking at the pouring rain. “Ever since I remembered them, I only wished to have them back,” Albert confessed. “But as I was back then, I couldn’t do anything, not with Father breathing down my neck.”

“That old man was quite the bastard, wasn’t he? Perhaps not as bad as the wicked nobles of the past, but still bad.”

“Yes, he was. I was planning on disinheriting myself when I turned eighteen and setting out on my own.”

Jack raised an eyebrow at that, turning to eye the brunet. “You would have lost a lot of resources that way.”

“Perhaps, but those are things I can gain. I know for sure that Mother would never have allowed me to bring William and Louis into the family.”

“I suppose you are right. She was too fixated on the Moriarty family’s image.”

“You can say that again!” A loud voice cut into their conversation, the two turning to see a tall, well-built man with dark hair stride into the room. Moran threw himself onto the couch, sprawling over it as he grinned at Albert. “That old hag loved to tear into anyone who didn’t meet her standards. Am I glad to see her gone!”

Sebastian Moran was another one of their little group who also remembered his past life, currently working as a policeman. He had bumped into Jack around five years ago, instantly freaking out at the sight of the older man and letting Jack know that he had his memories too. That was how he had come into contact with Albert, via Jack.

“Oh, by the way, I saw another familiar face.”

Both Albert and Jack perked up at that, silently asking the man to elaborate.

“Herder is here too,” Moran revealed with a wide grin, laughing when the others’ eyes gleamed. “I met him on the way here. Would have dragged him over, but he had an appointment or something, so I told him that I’d get Albert to contact him.”

“Hmm. Depending on his age, I might offer him a job at the company…” Albert trailed off, grimacing when he realized that he was expected to take up ownership of his family’s business. “I suppose I should start cleaning up the staff first.”

Moran frowned, “What?”

“Father wasn’t a competent businessman. As long as he got his money, he didn’t care what happened. I know of at least ten senior executives in the main branch who are involved in embezzlement and blackmail.”

“If it were the old days, we’d have put a bullet in their heads by now.”

“Maybe,” Albert allowed with a quicksilver smile, then cast a pleading glance at Jack. “Is there any way I could convince you to take up the position instead, Jack?”

The older man laughed, amused by the puppy dog eyes the seventeen-year-old was sending him. “Only until you turn twenty-one,” he agreed, chuckling when Albert slumped in relief. “What do you intend to do in the meantime?”

“Find William and Louis.”

There was something neither Jack nor Moran knew, and Albert intended to keep it that way.

Ever since he had turned thirteen, a particular nightmare had been haunting him. In their former lives, when they had decided to overturn the class system, the three brothers had jointly taken on the burden. But that didn’t stop the guilt plaguing Albert, wondering if he hadn’t interfered, perhaps William and Louis would have had better lives.

It was a stupid thought, one Albert was sure that his brothers would have called him out for. Living on the streets wasn’t much better, but maybe they would have found another way to achieve their goals, a peaceful way. Albert thought that his nightmares were telling him that, that he was the reason William and Louis had lived such bloody lives.

In his nightmares, a pale, lifeless William would accuse him of dragging him down to hell and leaving him alone there, while Louis would try to kill him for letting his beloved big brother die. Sometimes, Mycroft would feature in a nightmare as well, blaming him for Sherlock’s death.

Albert had lived with unbearable guilt the first few times he had had that kind of nightmare, until more memories had risen. Memories where William and Sherlock had returned to London three years after the incident at the bridge, Louis slipping into his cell at the Tower of London with his brother. Albert had seen his brothers again, perhaps not completely whole, but alive and well.

That memory had assuaged his guilt a little.

But there was also the nagging feeling that Albert was abandoning them in this life. Almost eight years had passed since he had remembered William and Louis, and yet he had not sought them out.

His blood family’s deaths had spurred him into motion though, along with a new nightmare where he found William and Louis but not as he hoped to. The two brothers would be curled tightly around each other protectively, a sight that would have been adorable if not for the pool of blood they were lying in.

It was as Albert’s subconscious was telling him to hurry up, or else he would lose his dear brothers forever.

A door opened slowly, the boy taking care to ensure that it didn’t creak. Seeing that the hallway was clear, he crept out, moving on silent feet towards the kitchen. In a few minutes, a pan of watery soup was heating on the stove and a plate with a few slices of dry bread sat ready for when the soup was done.

Turning off the stove when the soup started to boil, the boy poured it into a bowl and placed the used pan in the sink, intending to wash it later with the other utensils. He crept back to where he had come from, the bowl of soup and the plate of bread in hand.

The soft click of the door closing roused the other occupant of the tiny room and a dull red eye peeked out of a mound of dirty blankets, lighting up at the sight of his brother. “No one was around?”

“No,” William replied as he placed the food on the floor next to his brother, helping Louis sit up. The younger boy coughed a little, making his older brother frown in worry when he noticed the flecks of blood on his lips.

“It’s nothing, brother,” Louis assured with a smile, even if it had a pained edge to it. He couldn’t entirely mask the pain that he was in, his lungs feeling as if they were burning up. Every breath he took was labored, and the dusty room wasn’t doing any favors.

William didn’t say anything, instead helping his brother take slow sips of the soup. He desperately wished that he could do more for Louis, like taking him to a hospital or at least get some medicine, something that would soothe the pain. But he had no money for that and there was no way their foster family would provide for them.

It was a long process, but the soup was finally finished, shared between the two brothers, even if William had forced Louis to drink a larger portion. The bowl was wiped clean with the slices of bread, not leaving a single drop behind. The brothers were hardly ever fed, the money their foster parents received for their care being spent on alcohol and gambling.

Only when child services came to check on them were they given clean clothes and lots of food, but that only made them sick; their stomachs were used to being empty and the sudden influx of rich food did not sit well.

‘If only I was a little stronger,’ William thought as Louis shifted slowly under the blankets, his oversized shirt slipping off his shoulder and revealing a line of purple bruises. ‘Then I could protect Louis.’

In another life, he had been called the Lord of Crime. He had been capable of handling fully grown men on his own, his physical and mental prowess being nothing to scoff at.

But now, even if William had retained his sharp intellect, he was physically weak. His thin and bony arms couldn’t lift even a poker properly. Even if he found a way to report his foster family, there was no way of guaranteeing them a better life. The proof was in the fact that this was their fifth foster family.

‘When I turn eighteen, I’ll be free from this useless system,’ William thought fiercely as he slipped back to the kitchen, cleaning up the utensils and the counter. ‘I’ll take Louis with me and get him the help he needs. We just need to hold on until then.’

Once, William wouldn’t have thought twice about making some nefarious plot and getting him and Louis out of their deplorable situation. But he was tired. Not physically, but his soul was tired and weary from all the bloodshed of his past life. He wanted to live peacefully this time with Louis and if fate decreed it, with all his loved ones from the past.

There were times when William had entertained the thought that the suffering in his life was the punishment for the evil deeds he had done before. If it had been only him, he likely would have let his despair overwhelm him. But he had Louis. No matter what, he wouldn’t leave his precious little brother behind.

Louis might not have explicitly said it, but William knew that the younger had felt somewhat abandoned in their past lives. His actions were clear enough; the way his eyes tracked William’s every movement and the way they lit up with relief and joy whenever the older boy returned from wherever he had disappeared to. William’s heart always hurt at those little occurrences, even as he felt warm at the thought that there was someone who loved him so deeply.

This time, he would fight for Louis, for their future.

A loud bang and the shattering of glass startled the two brothers into wakefulness. William tensed and immediately put himself in front of his brother. Both of them were well aware that it was their foster father, the man’s yells echoing through the house.

“He’s drunk,” Louis whispered, pulling himself upright using his grip on William’s shirt. Neither boy liked the man, for he was far too cruel and harsh. He would gamble his money away and then take his anger out on the boys.

William nodded tersely, crimson eyes trained on the old door. There was nothing to defend themselves with, nothing to offer even a shred of protection. The man’s wife did not care about them either, content to let the boys suffer under his violent fists as long as she was unharmed.

Heavy footsteps sounded right outside the door and the boys tensed, resigned to another beating.

As if on cue, the door burst open and the drunk man lumbered in, a broken bottle in his hand. “You useless brats!” he screamed, hiccupping between words, loud enough for the neighbors to hear. “Not even worth the money!”

Despite Louis’ protests, the man hauled William up by the collar and smashed his bottle on the boy’s head. Blood flowed from the new cuts on his scalp where the broken glass had cut into his skin, dying his hair red and dripping down his forehead. Even so, William only glared at the man, not uttering a sound even as his head pulsed in pain.

“Don’t look at me like that!”

The near demonic gleam in the boy’s crimson eyes both intimidated and infuriated the man, who threw him across the room and into the wall.

“Brother!” Louis cried out, panicking on seeing William’s crumpled form and lunged at their foster father, grabbing the man’s arm and biting with all the strength he could muster.

The drunk man grunted at the slight pain and shoved the younger boy onto the floor, stomping viciously on his stomach. “Should sell you to those traffickers,” he muttered almost illegibly, kicking Louis again and making him cough out blood.

“Don’t touch my little brother!”

Having been alerted by Louis’ cry of pain, William dragged himself up and threw his body over Louis’, trying to cover as much of the younger boy’s body as he could. Even when Louis screamed into his ear, even when blows rained down on his back, he did not budge.

William did not expect help to come. It wasn’t the first time they had been beaten up and screaming had no good, the neighbors either choosing to ignore them or simply not caring.

It was fine.

As long as Louis was okay, William would take on all the pain.

Louis fought back his tears, cursing himself for being so weak and useless. Even in their past life, he hadn’t been able to help his brother and it seemed like history was repeating once again. William’s body shuddered against his every time he was hit. There was nothing Louis could do, except pray that it would stop soon.

It usually never did though.

But miraculously, something different happened this time.

“Why are you here?!”

A woman’s shrill voice was heard, which Louis vaguely recognized as their so-called foster mother, sounding panicked and fearful. Then there was the thud of heavy footsteps and someone shouted, yanking their foster father away from them and throwing him out the room.

“What the hell do you bastards think you’re doing?! Beating up children like that!”

That voice.

It was very familiar.

Both William and Louis twisted their heads to look at the newcomer, finding a tall man with dark, spiky hair and broad shoulders standing protectively in front of them, glowering at the couple outside the room.

“Cuff them,” the man ordered the other policemen who appeared near the doorway, a deep scowl on his face. “Call the child welfare services while you’re at it as well. Keeping kids in a dingy room like this…”

“Moran…?”

The man turned at the sound of his name and froze, finding two very familiar pairs of crimson eyes staring at him.

“William? Louis?”

Moran suppressed a noise of fury when he saw the blood dripping from William’s head and the way he was draped over Louis. They were both covered in dust and bruises, making his blood boil.

“Sir? Should I call for an ambulance?”

Snapping out of the daze he had fallen into, Moran nodded at his subordinate. “Yeah. Get the first-aid kit; I’ll bring the boys out in the meantime.”

“Yes, sir!”

Moran turned back to the brothers, kneeling in front of them and giving them a lopsided smile. “Wish we could have met under better circumstances, but I’m glad to see you two again.” When the call had come in about a possible case of domestic abuse, he had not expected it to turn out to be child abuse instead. Especially not involving William and Louis.

“Can I pick you up? Doubt you can walk in that state.”

“I…yes.”

Assured that William was still conscious of his surroundings, Moran gingerly picked up the two boys, frowning at how light they were. He couldn’t tell how old they were, their physical appearance completely different from the look in their eyes, but he knew that they had to be at least older than ten, since both seemed to remember him. That had been the case with himself and the others anyway.

When the ambulance arrived, Moran went with the boys, trusting his second-in-command to take control of the situation. Besides, William and Louis tensed when any strangers approached, refusing to be separated or touched. Only his presence seemed to give them some sense of safety.

Once the boys had been wheeled off into the emergency room, Moran pulled out his phone and called a certain number. When the other side answered, he said brusquely, “I’m sending you an address. Get over here right now.”

It didn’t take long for Albert and Jack to reach the place Moran had told them to come to, wondering just what they were doing at a hospital.

Finding their friend wasn’t hard, considering that the police officer was yelling at a woman and kicking up a ruckus, while a few nurses were trying to calm them down.

“What the hell, woman! Those two just got out of that trash hole and you want to send them back?!” Moran growled, hands balled into tight fists and shaking from the effort of keeping himself from punching the damn woman.

On her part, the woman just scoffed and rolled her eyes. “I’m afraid one instance of abuse isn’t going to be enough to find another foster family for them.”

“Abuse is abuse!”

“What you don’t know, officer, that this is their fifth foster family,” the woman snapped back, clearly unconcerned. “They’re obviously troubled boys, since no one wants to keep them.”

“So you’re saying that it’s all their fault?!”

“Of course not.”

The false saccharine voice and condescending tone didn’t sit right with Albert but he stepped in before Moran could actually hit the woman. “Moran, we’re here.”

Moran’s head snapped to the side, anger mostly draining out of him to be replaced by a sort of manic energy. “Finally! Get in there!”

Grabbing the confused brunet’s arm, Moran shoved him into the room he had been standing in front of, making Albert stumble a little at the sudden manhandling. He opened his mouth to protest the rough treatment, only to close it with a sharp click when he saw the occupants of the beds in front of him.

William and Louis were lying under the stark white sheets, the former’s head wrapped in thick bandages. Both of them were thin and pale, looking so small that Albert felt his heart clench. He would bet his entire fortune that he would be able to count their ribs and feel the sharp edges of their bones. That was how frail they were.

Behind him, Jack breathed in sharply. “Is that…?”

“Yeah,” Moran answered, leaning against the wall just inside the door. “From what I’ve got so far, they’re orphans in a bad foster situation.”

Albert, who had been running his hand over the bandages around William’s head, turned at that, green eyes dark and dangerous. “How bad?”

“All those injuries you see there were caused by that scum of a foster father,” the dark-haired man spat, itching to return to the police station and shoot the man dead. “And this woman says that they have to go back!”

“I won’t allow that,” Albert stated firmly, his expression serious and determined. “They’re coming with me.”

The woman from child welfare services scoffed and retorted, “You don’t look old enough to make decisions like that. Those boys are trouble and I’d be more than happy to see them settled in a good home, but look at the situations they cause!”

Jack narrowed his eyes at the arrogant woman, wondering what someone with a personality like hers was doing in a job that worked with children. “It is wrong to place the sins of adults on the shoulders of children.”

“That is true,” Albert added, clasping his hands behind his back. The woman didn’t scare him; he had seen much worse, after all. Channeling every bit of the aristocratic persona he had crafted in his past life, he stared at the woman, smirking internally when the woman audibly gulped. “And as for you, we have ways of making William and Louis legally ours, should they wish it.”

“But…”

“I would ask that you leave…immediately.”

Under the combined dark glares of Albert, Jack and Moran, the woman folded and fled in terror. The brunet sighed when she disappeared out the door, turning back to the two boys. “She did have a point. I legally cannot adopt or claim guardianship of them right now. That’s why…”

He turned to look at Jack, the man understanding what the Moriarty wanted immediately. “You want me to become their guardian.”

“Yes. You are already my guardian and I can bring them into my family when I turn twenty-one. This way, we can protect them.”

“I suppose that would work. But will they agree?”

“I wouldn’t worry,” Moran smirked. “They remember us.”

“…is that so.”

“Brother Albert…?”

Green eyes widened and Albert spun around, meeting the startled crimson gaze of Louis. The younger boy blinked slowly, taking in the occupants of the room. “…it wasn’t a dream.”

“No,” the seventeen-year-old said softly, hurrying around William’s bed to hug his youngest brother. “You’re safe now, Louis. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Louis nodded and clung to Albert, peeking over his shoulder. “What about Brother William?”

Moran was the one to answer that, having already heard from the doctor. “He’ll heal, but it’s going to be a long process, even longer than yours.”

“What…? Why?”

“His bones have been broken many times and healed wrongly. They have to be re-broken and set properly if he wants full mobility when he’s older.”

Everyone winced, a trace of horror in their eyes. Albert looked back at Louis, voice gentle as he asked, “Did William get hurt that badly because of that man?”

“Not just him,” Louis replied quietly, not taking his eyes off of William. The older blonde’s expression was peaceful in a way it hadn’t been in years, not since the two brothers had started bouncing from foster family to foster family. “Brother always tried to shield me from the worst of it.”

“As expected of William,” the brunet remarked wryly, knowing well how protective William was of Louis. “But it will be better from now.”

Things did get better after that, Jack successfully getting guardianship of William and Louis -who were only thirteen and twelve respectively- after Albert had set some of his trusted lawyers on the woman from child welfare services. It took two months for the boys to arrive at the Moriarty’s mansion, having spent all that time recovering in the hospital.

For a few weeks, it was peaceful, the little family getting to know each other again.

Then the nightmares started.

The first time it happened, William woke the entire mansion, screaming as if he was being tortured. Albert and Louis were the first on the scene, throwing open the door to find William clawing at his left eye and writhing in the tangle of his sheets.

It took the better part of an hour to calm him, Louis holding his brother’s left hand to prevent William from ripping out his eye in his craze, not relenting even when William’s nails drew blood. Albert caught William’s other hand and untangled the sheets with his free hand, to make sure that the boy did not feel trapped.

Jack and Moran were hovering a few feet away, ready to assist if it seemed like William wasn’t calming down. All of them recognized the boy’s actions; William was clearly caught in a nightmare born of a memory of his fall from the bridge. It was evident by the way he gasped for breath and tried to dig his eye out. He had suffered from phantom pains from the loss of his eye even in his past life.

Finally, William relaxed, out of breath but calm. He didn’t wake though, slipping back into a restless sleep.

“Has he had a night terror like this before?” Albert asked Louis, shifting to the side without losing his grip on William’s hand to allow Jack to remove the soaked sheets.

The younger blond shook his head. “This is the first time. I think he either recalled those memories just now or was suppressing them because of our previous situation.”

“The former seems more likely,” Moran said gruffly, bringing in fresh sheets from the closet. He knew a thing or two about trauma and phantom pains, from his past life. “You two going to stay with him?”

Albert and Louis looked at each other then at William, coming to a silent decision. They crawled onto the bed alongside their brother, curling around him protectively. They had done something similar before, after the bridge incident, when they wanted to assure themselves that they still had each other.

Sleeping in the same bed became a common occurrence after that, but the location changed.

None of the three brothers maintained normal sleeping hours, so either one of the siblings would slip into Albert’s room, lured by the mini library of books in there. The other sibling would arrive later and the three brothers would spend their time reading while cuddled up against each other.

More than once, Jack had found the three fast asleep on Albert’s bed when he came to get them for dinner or breakfast, depending on when the boys had slept that day.

William and Louis’ rooms were abandoned more often than not, the two content to spend their time in their elder brother’s room or in the library. Their mental state did improve and the frequency of William’s nightmares decreased, though he did have them randomly.

“What does everyone think about moving to Durham?” Albert asked out of the blue about a year after the brothers had reunited, making everyone blink at him.

Jack was the first to respond, looking up from the contract he had been analyzing. “I wouldn’t mind, but what brought this on, Albert?”

The eldest Moriarty shrugged lightly. “I could say that it’s for a change of pace, but I’d be lying. Two reasons: first, the atmosphere in Durham is better than London, especially for Louis’ health. Second, I think we could use a break from the memories.”

That was obviously meant for William, though no one pointed it out. The blond stared at his hands for a moment, then looked at Louis and Moran, silently asking for their opinions.

“Like Jack, I wouldn’t mind,” Louis said hesitantly, peeking at his brother through his hair. He had grown it out on the right, mimicking the fringe he had had before, although there was no scar on his cheek to hide. William had done something similar; his hair was longer, falling past his shoulders and he had a fringe too, covering his left eye.

Apart from the slight differences in the shades of their hair and eye color, William and Louis looked like mirror images.

“I was thinking of quitting my job anyway,” Moran added with a grin, side-eying Albert. “I got a better offer from a certain someone.”

Jack snorted, aware that Albert had asked Moran to act as a bodyguard for his brothers. There were many who coveted the Moriarty fortune and tried to get into the new additions’ good graces or outright attempted to kidnap them. Moving to Durham would take the attention off William and Louis, while also giving them a chance to heal, mentally and physically.

William didn’t respond for a while and no one pressed him, content to wait it out. Finally, he sighed. “Could you give me a day? I’d like to think more about it.”

“Take your time, William. There’s no hurry.”

William spent that night in his own room, standing on the balcony and watching the moon. He wasn’t against moving to Durham, his memories of the place far happier than the ones he had of London.

There was just one thing holding him back.

London was where he had met his lover in his past life.

Although Sherlock Holmes and William had stood on opposing sides for the during their initial acquaintance, they had formed a relationship closer than they had ever expected, especially after Sherlock had saved William.

The blond had fully intended to be the only one to die that day on that bridge but Sherlock had not followed the script given to him, choosing to instead jump after him. Surprisingly, they had survived the fall, even if William had spent months in a coma after that, recovering.

Even after Sherlock’s passionate declaration, William had not expected that he would go so far for him. Sherlock had been willing to leave behind his friends and family, if it meant that William would get the treatment he needed.

That was what had convinced William to live on.

It had been surprising yet not when Sherlock had admitted to having romantic feelings for William. Surprising, because William had not really held hope of his feelings being returned, and not, because Sherlock’s actions towards him were more intense than they would have been for a friend.

For the first time in his life, William had let go of his control and let himself have what he desperately wanted.

It hadn’t been easy, what with the trauma both of them had suffered and their personal demons. But they had wanted to make it work and so they did.

Those years had been the best part of William’s former life, only made better when they had returned to London and reunited with the rest of their family.

Sherlock was the reason why William was hesitant to leave London now, hoping that the other would suddenly pop out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face that never failed to charm William.

But William also knew that sooner or later, he would drown under the memories that plagued him. Almost every corner of London’s streets brought back a bad memory; the others never let him leave the mansion alone, not after he had had a panic attack on the streets. A kind stranger had looked after him then, but that wouldn’t always be the case.

Leaving for a little while now would be beneficial in the long run, yet he was hesitant.

The wind picked up, ruffling his hair, the golden strands fluttering in the breeze and tickling his skin. William raised a hand and tucked them behind his ear, looking back at the moon. Loneliness was visible on his expression, bright crimson eyes dull with sorrow.

‘Where are you, Sherly?’

Chapter Text

Mycroft sat at his desk, doing his homework while keeping an eye on his younger brother. Their parents were always busy with work and were hardly home, which meant Mycroft had to pick up the slack on raising Sherlock.

It wasn’t something he minded. After all, memories of a past life helped greatly in that regard. Mycroft didn’t really reminisce much except when Sherlock did something that was like his past self or when something reminded him of his own life. The latter was rare, truth be told, since he had devoted his life to his work back then.

But the former was common, the occurrences becoming more and more frequent after Sherlock had turned ten. Mycroft had been keeping a closer eye on his younger brother since his birthday, watching if Sherlock had also started recalling memories of his past life.

So far all the signs were saying that he had.

“Stop watching me so closely, Mycky. It’s annoying.”

Mycroft smirked and set his pen down, swiveling around in his chair to look at Sherlock. The younger boy was scowling, the expression somehow not seeming out of place on his childish face. “I was wondering when you would snap, Sherly.”

Sherlock’s scowl deepened. “Why can’t you be a normal person and just ask?”

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

“You-!”

The older boy caught his brother with ease when Sherlock lunged at him, holding him by the neck like a disobedient kitten. “You should know by now that that won’t work on me,” Mycroft reminded him with a barely there smile, internally relieved that Sherlock still retained some of his childish personality.

“Tch, you’re boring,” Sherlock grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest. After a moment, he eyed his older brother, “How much do you remember?”

“Everything,” came the short response, Mycroft raising an eyebrow at the question. So Sherlock had indeed started remembering.

“How long did it take?”

“I remembered everything by sixteen.”

“What?! So I have to wait six years?!”

Mycroft smirked at his younger brother, watching the younger turn red in frustration. Sherlock had never liked not knowing things that pertained to himself. His memories weren’t even a mystery that he could solve. The only option was to wait and let them surface naturally.

“…Mycky?”

“What is it?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“You already did, but go on.”

Sherlock glared at his brother’s snarky response but chose to voice his question rather than pick another fight.

“Who’s Liam?”

Mycroft, who had been turning back to his books, froze for a few seconds and then spun back around slowly. There was an odd glint in his eyes, even as his expression remained impassive.

“You don’t know?”

Sherlock shrugged, expression saying that he was irritated but Mycroft knew that he was concerned about something. “I only remember stuff up to when I was twelve or thirteen back then. Your reaction says that you know him.”

“Of course I do.”

There was no way Mycroft would forget the middle Moriarty brother, who had sacrificed a lot for Britain. William James Moriarty had been a conundrum, far worse than his brothers, but Mycroft hadn’t interacted with him much, having left him to Sherlock.

But he was not telling his little brother that.

“He was someone very important to you,” he finally settled on saying, amused when Sherlock puffed up in anger. “Recall the rest yourself, Sherly.”

Sherlock absently doodled in the corner of his notebook, not paying attention to his class. Without being aware of it himself, he was actually writing a name on the paper, over and over again. When he did notice, he let out a frustrated noise but didn’t erase it.

Liam. Liam. Liam.

On and on it went, the black writing in the book revealing that the person the name belonged to was on his mind all the time. At ten, Sherlock had not been able to put a face to the name and Mycroft hadn’t been willing to help, instead teasing him or giving non-answers whenever he had tried to weasel out a clue.

A few months after he had turned thirteen, however, Sherlock had finally recalled the memory of that person.

William James Moriarty.

Just the thought of that name brought forth memories of soft golden yellow hair, pale skin and the brightest crimson eyes. Another person might have called those eyes demonic back then, since red eyes were really uncommon, but to Sherlock, they were beautiful. In his past life, he had likened them to rubies most of the time.

‘I wonder if Liam is around too,’ Sherlock thought, forcibly dragging his attention back to his class. Mycroft would be on his case if yet another report of his careless attitude reached him. ‘So far, only Brother has his memories amongst all of the people I’ve met. Would be nice if John remembered, but I’d need to find him first!’

Still, even if Sherlock had finally recalled Liam, he didn’t understand why the blond had stuck out so vividly. The only conclusion he could come to said that the answer was hidden in the memories he had yet to recover.

That would likely come soon, since Sherlock was already fourteen. Mycroft had said that he had recalled everything by sixteen, after all.

In the meantime, he had to be content with what he remembered. It wasn’t all that disappointing though. William had been someone who had intrigued Sherlock; both his intellect and personality had appealed to him, as if two similar souls had met after being lost for a long time. It had been thrilling, to finally meet someone who thought on the same wavelength as him.

Sherlock could understand all that and he knew that if he ever met William in this life, he would never let him go. He didn’t remember much about the blond yet, but he had the feeling that William would be the same.

‘But there’s more to it,’ he thought, his brain running on two different tracks, one thinking about William and the other focusing on class, which he belatedly realized was history. ‘If that was all what Liam was to me, Brother would have told me. Anyway, what’s today’s lesson about…? Huh? The London…bridge…?’

An image of a broken bridge flashed in his mind, a tall figure dressed in black standing near one broken edge.

‘What…?’

Sherlock’s chest constricted in fear, fear of what he didn’t know, but it was becoming hard to breathe. He opened his mouth to yell at the other, desperately wanting the person to step away from the edge, but the words were stuck in his throat.

‘Liam!’

He knew that the cloaked figure was William, even before seeing his face. Memories flooded into his head, giving him more context but Sherlock was caught up in one particular memory. It felt as if something would go wrong, if he took the wrong step.

The memory progressed and Sherlock heard himself shouting at William, terror lancing through his heart when the blond fell. Soft crimson eyes were burnt into his mind; William’s expression was gentler than he had ever seen, yet with a tinge of resignation, as he plummeted towards the raging waters of the Thames.

“I lose…Sherly.”

Sherlock didn’t realize he was screaming, hands gripping his head tightly, as if the pain he inflicted on himself would somehow overpower the pain in his heart. Around him, his teacher and classmates watched him with panicked expressions, not knowing what had set him off and how to calm him.

None of that registered in his mind though.

All he could see was William’s smile as he fell.

When Mycroft got the call from Sherlock’s school about his younger brother, he hadn’t been too concerned. It was normal to get a call or two every week, the teachers complaining about the boy’s inattentiveness in class. The only reason that there wasn’t much action taken was that Sherlock aced every test.

This time, though, the call was for a very, very different reason.

Sherlock had had a panic attack.

The very notion of it was absurd; Sherlock, having a panic attack? He had jumped off a freaking bridge with zero hesitation in his past life, had stared death in the face multiple times.

But that was just it; it had been a past life. Sherlock was now a fourteen-year-old boy living in a different era. He wasn’t the same person he had once been, just as Mycroft himself was different. Even if their memories influenced parts of their personalities, they couldn’t expect themselves to react as they would have before.

Fortunately, Mycroft was free at the time the call came and he quickly made his way to the school, where he was directed to the infirmary by the receptionist. Sherlock was lying on one of the beds farthest from the door, the curtains drawn around him. His complexion was slightly paler than normal, but he appeared fine otherwise.

“How is he doing?” the older Holmes asked the nurse, voice flat.

The woman shook her head, looking perplexed, “I honestly don’t know. Physically, there’s nothing wrong with him, apart from a sore throat, which is the consequence of screaming himself hoarse. However, we don’t know what caused his panic attack. Does he have any history of such, Mr. Holmes?”

“No, and I do not know why either,” Mycroft replied.

He absolutely knew.

As he signed the forms to take Sherlock home, Mycroft pondered what memory his brother had recalled in order to react so badly and how it had been triggered. He theorized that it had to be that incident; it was the most traumatizing of Sherlock’s memories, after all.

When Mycroft entered his brother’s room with a tray of food that was light on the stomach, Sherlock was already sitting up, staring ahead blankly.

The older Holmes didn’t say a word, simply placing the tray on the bedside table. It was best to give the younger some time to gather himself, than to prod him when he was in a delicate state.

True enough, Sherlock shook himself back to reality after a few minutes. His eyes narrowed at his brother, but there wasn’t any hint of accusation or judgement in them. “Did you predict that I would react like that?”

“I did,” Mycroft replied with a tilt of his head.

In his past life, the only one who had moved Sherlock so much, the only one who had brought light into his monotonous life, had been William James Moriarty. As such, it stood to reason that recalling the memory of when William had allowed himself to fall into the Thames would have affected Sherlock greatly.

“Great. Now I’ve made a fool out of myself in front of my classmates,” Sherlock grumbled, punching his pillow in frustration.

An eyebrow rose in judgement but Mycroft allowed the change of topic. “You don’t care about that.”

Sherlock snorted. “Like hell I don’t! Those idiots can think whatever they like! I just don’t want them fussing all over me. That’s just plain annoying.”

“I’m sure they’ll leave you alone after spending a minute in your charming presence.”

“I don’t know if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”

Mycroft didn’t reply to that, instead taking the food he had placed on the bedside table and handed it to his brother. “Eat. You’re still recovering. And you can tell me what’s really on your mind as you eat.”

The younger Holmes twitched at that not so subtle order, once again cursing the fact that his brother was too perceptive for his liking. In a weak attempt to buy some time, Sherlock picked up the bowl of porridge and dug into it, making a face when it tasted bland.

“Sherly,” Mycroft prompted when the boy didn’t say a word, crossing one leg over the other. “I can wait all night.”

And Sherlock knew it.

“I’m scared,” he whispered after a long silence, staring at the remnants of his food. His hands trembled around the bowl of porridge and he set it down, afraid that he would drop it. “I’m scared that I failed Liam. That I’ll remember the rest and realize that I couldn’t save him.”

Mycroft had suspected that Sherlock had been beating himself up over that and he was proved right. If he gave it time, he knew that his brother would recall everything himself but he didn’t know how long it would take. And he did not want him to suffer until then.

“He survived.”

Sherlock’s head snapped up at the words, eyes wide. He looked his age like that, like the lost fourteen-year-old he was and not the adult he had been in his past life. There was relief too, and a silent gratitude to his brother for not letting him stew in his despair.

“…thanks for telling me.”

“You will have to remember the rest yourself.”

“That’s fine. As long as I know that Liam lived.”

If he had been less composed, Mycroft would have shook his head in exasperation. Sherlock’s attachment to William James Moriarty would have been concerning if he hadn’t seen the way it had been reciprocated in their past life. Trust his brother to be more worried about the blond rather than himself.

It was almost the end of the school year and Sherlock found himself staring up at the ceiling of his room rather than studying for his finals. Not that he really needed to, but it wouldn’t hurt to revise. He would get to it. Eventually.

Months had passed since he had recalled what he had dubbed the most traumatic experience in his past life and more memories had risen, of the time he had spent in New York while William had been recovering. The memories had become easier to bear, once he had had solid proof that the man he loved had survived.

Yes, loved.

Not had loved.

Sherlock knew that another person might call him an idiot and a hopeless romantic for loving someone from his past life, for loving someone who might not return his feelings if they too had been reincarnated. But he didn’t care; his love for William wasn’t so selfish. As long as the blond was happy, he would be happy too.

To him, William was the one bright spot in his dull canvas of life.

No matter how many times he lived and died, Sherlock knew that he would always love the soul that belonged to William James Moriarty.

Something told him that William was the same.

“I’m sure that he’s somewhere,” he mumbled to himself, rolling onto his side and staring out the window. “I wonder how he is this time…Louis might be with him; those two were pretty attached to each other. I hope they get to be brothers again.”

Thing was, Sherlock had no way of confirming that.

Even if obtaining information in this era was easier than in the past, there were more restrictions when it came to private information and he really didn’t want to bribe someone to get what he wanted.

That limited the possibilities available to him.

A knock jolted him out of his thoughts and Sherlock raised his head just in time to see his brother walk in. “What do you want now?”

“Would you like to come to London with me?”

Mycroft waited patiently for his brother’s response, taking a seat at the desk. When the younger boy didn’t say anything even after minutes passed, he sighed and leaned forward, poking Sherlock on the forehead.

“Sherly.”

“Did I just hear you right? You’re going to London?”

“Yes. That’s where I intend to work.”

Sherlock blinked at him suspiciously. Mycroft hadn’t given any sign that he was dissatisfied with their life in Paris, where they had lived for almost ten years, even though their memories of their past lives were almost entirely set in London. “Why the sudden change? Sure, I’d love to go back to London, but what’s in it for you?”

Mycroft’s gaze didn’t falter and he maintained eye contact with his brother as he answered curtly, “You’re not the only one who is searching for someone.”

“Huh. Who is it? I thought you had been married to your work.”

That made Mycroft sigh and look away. “We didn’t have anything. Not really. The chance was there…”

“But neither of you took it.”

“No. We had different priorities and our paths never crossed long enough to build what we did have.”

Sherlock was surprised. His older brother had never given even the smallest sign that he had been romantically interested in anyone. He was even more surprised that Mycroft had admitted it to him. “So you’re hoping for a chance this time?”

“…not quite,” Mycroft replied after a moment of thought. “I only wish to see him happy.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and punched his brother in the arm. “Don’t be stupid, Brother! When you find him, ask him out! If you really think you could have something, then don’t give up!”

The older Holmes chuckled. “I suppose I should defer to you. You have more experience in romance than I, after all.”

“Damn right I do!”

“Back to the matter at hand, you’re fine with returning to London?”

“Of course I am!”

“Good. We will leave once your exams are done.”

‘It feels a bit like I’ve come home,’ Sherlock thought as he and Mycroft exited the airport, each holding a travel bag. They had sent most of their luggage to the apartment their parents had bought them, not wanting to be burdened by them. ‘Even if it’s not the same London I remember, it’s nostalgic.’

Then again, it wasn’t really home, not unless William was with him.

“What are we going to do first?”

“We should check the apartment,” Mycroft answered, pulling out his phone to look for directions. “Father said that it was fully furnished but it wouldn’t hurt to be sure.”

“Fine.”

“After that is your new school but that can wait for some time.”

“I swear, if you enroll me in some uppity high-class school, I’ll kill you, brother or not.”

“Perhaps I should, just to see your reaction,” Mycroft mused with a smirk, sliding out of the way when Sherlock tried to punch him. “Now, now, don’t kick up a fuss, Sherlock.”

“Stay still, stupid Mycky!”

“Do you really think I’ll make it easy for you?”

Sherlock tuned out the teacher rambling in front of him, instead absently following the man as he observed the surroundings. The school he was going to attend was less classy than he had thought Mycroft would choose. He supposed that it was because his brother wasn’t willing to field any more calls about his lackadaisical attitude from the staff.

“That’s all you need to know about the school, Mr. Holmes,” the teacher said and stopped out of the blue, forcing Sherlock to dig his heels into the floor if he didn’t want to crash into the man. Said teacher had a knowing look on his face, as if he was aware that Sherlock hadn’t really been paying attention. “A student from your class will be assigned to guide you until you get used to things.”

“Got it.”

“Mr. Taylor, sorry for being late!”

“Ah, and there he is. Meet your gui-”

“Sherlock?!”

“John?!”

For the boy in front of them could only be the John Watson from Sherlock’s memories. He had the same ash blond hair and golden brown eyes, although he was a little softer around the edges. It made sense though; he hadn’t been in a war, like his past self had.

The two teenagers stared at each other blankly, making the teacher look between them curiously. When neither said anything after a while, he cleared his throat and announced, “Since you seem to be acquainted already, I’ll leave you to it. Good day, Mr. Holmes, Mr. Watson.”

Taylor walked away, leaving the students alone in the hallway.

After a while, John opened his mouth, “Sherlock…is that really y-”

He was cut off by Sherlock throwing himself at him in a bear hug, laughing delightedly. “Nice to see you again, partner!”

John huffed a short laugh and shook his head, resigned to his friend’s antics. ‘Sherlock will be Sherlock,’ he thought with exasperation even as he returned the hug. “Where have you been all this time?”

“Ah, I’ve actually been in Paris, since my parents work took them there,” Sherlock replied, pulling back and tucking his hands into his pockets. There was a lopsided grin on his face as he regarded his friend, happy at having another piece of his past returned to him.

“I see. What made you come to London then?”

“Brother’s idea. Not that I’m against it, though. In any case, John…do you remember everything? From back then?”

“Mostly,” John answered, gesturing for Sherlock to follow him as he led them around the school campus. “I’m still recalling things every now and then. What about you?”

Sherlock sighed, scratching the back of his head. “Same. Say, John. Have you met anyone else like us? You know, with memories.”

“I actually have. And you?”

“Brother, obviously. But no one else.”

John paused at the depressed tone in his friend’s voice and looked at him. It was clear that Sherlock was hoping to meet someone in particular. Lowering his voice, he asked, “Are you looking for Lord Moriarty?”

Sherlock gave him a look that said it was a stupid question, but answered anyway, “Just call him William.”

“I’m not surprised, considering the relationship you two had had.”

“Hmm.”

The two walked around for a bit, John pointing out the places on campus that they were most likely to frequent. When they reached a particular room, John slowed down, a mischievous look on his face. He knew that the other students were still in class and so thought up an idea.

“Last place you need to know, Sherlock: the infirmary.”

“Why do you sound like I’ll be frequenting the place?” Sherlock asked, incredulous.

John raised an eyebrow at his best friend. “I saw how you were eyeing the chemistry lab. Knowing you, you’ll definitely cause a few explosions.”

“Why, you!”

Laughing at Sherlock’s indignant expression, John peeked into the infirmary and grinned. He grabbed the other’s arm and pushed him through the open door, calling out, “Look who I found!”

The two occupants of the infirmary turned around, blinking at the new arrivals. The first one to react was a young brunette with green eyes in a white coat, nearly dropping the box in her hands as she walked over to the two boys.

“Is that really you, Sherlock?”

“Ms. Hudson?! You’re the school nurse?!”

Sherlock gaped at the woman in front of him, recognizing her as his landlady from before. She looked exactly the same, apart from the hairstyle. She now wore her long hair in a high ponytail instead of braiding it. But she was easily recognizable.

“Really, you’re just as rude as ever,” Ms. Hudson complained, a trace of fondness in her voice as she pulled the dark-haired boy into a brief hug. “Are you going to be annoying me in this life too?”

“I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t,” Sherlock laughed, happy at seeing the woman again. Even though they had argued a lot in their past lives, they had been very good friends, almost like brother and sister.

“It was a surprise when I first saw her,” John said with a smile. “I knew Mary from when we were children but meeting Ms. Hudson here in the school was a pleasant shock.”

Mary Morstan was the other person in the room, smiling gently when the attention was focused on her. She was dressed in the school uniform, marking her as a student, just like Sherlock and John.

“Mr. Holmes,” she greeted, nodding her head politely. “It’s nice to see you again.”

Sherlock waved a hand at her, “I’ve told you to call me by name too many times, Mary!”

“Sherlock, then.”

The group of four settled down in places around the infirmary, trading information on their memories and their current lives, catching up on the years they had missed.

“So none of you have heard of Liam or the others?” Sherlock asked, tone almost desperate as he leaned forward. He might be thankful for meeting his friends again but there were more people he loved who were still missing.

John, Mary and Ms. Hudson looked at each other then at Sherlock. “Not exactly. We know nothing of William and his group, but…”

“But there is some public information about the Moriarty family,” Mary continued, hands folded over her lap. “They are a very rich family involved in multiple businesses.”

“What sort of information?”

Ms. Hudson sighed. “Nothing useful. About a year ago, three members of the family died in a plane crash: the father, the mother and the second son. The first son was the only survivor, since he hadn’t been on the plane with them.”

“That sounds like it could be Albert,” Sherlock muttered thoughtfully, filing away that bit of information. He would tell his brother later. “What else?”

“That’s pretty much it. The first son was underage back then and so all information on him was hidden. Even now you can’t get anything,” John told his friend, feeling sympathetic when Sherlock groaned in frustration. The Moriarty family had become highly secretive after the accident and no one had even seen the heir. Even if they were famous, they weren’t celebrities that appeared on the front page of newspapers and magazines.

“So that family is the only lead we have, huh? Wonder if Brother can dig anything up,” Sherlock said with a mix of resignation and hope in his voice. Mycroft, even if he didn’t have the same position in the government like before, was scarily good at uncovering information.

“It’s an idea.”

“In any case, if the heir really is Albert and he has his memories, then he’ll definitely look for Liam and Louis. He was too close to them for him to just abandon them.”

“What are you going to do, Sherlock?”

“Me? Look around London to see if I can find anything. There’s no way I’m giving up on Liam.”

A month after arriving in London and with no leads as of yet, Sherlock was growing frustrated. Mycroft had done his best but even he was having difficulty finding anything related to the Moriarty that wasn’t public information.

It was almost as if the information was all locked away.

Sherlock hadn’t given up hope. He would not, not when there was still life left in his body. He had jumped off a bridge for his William before; he would travel the world to find him this time.

Sitting on the roof of his apartment and staring at the moon, he mused to himself, “‘Catch me if you can’, huh? That’s what you told me that time, right? Liam.”

Sherlock had caught him once.

He would definitely do it again, no matter what.

‘Where are you, Liam?’

Chapter Text

Louis padded up the stairs, keeping his steps light as he made his way towards the bedrooms. Stopping in front of the room between his and Albert’s, he listened for any signs that would indicate that William was awake. Considering how still it was, Louis assumed that he was asleep for a change. He considered that a blessing, since he knew that William had been up late the previous night.

Turning the knob, he opened the door, waiting a moment to adjust to the darkness of the room before stepping inside. The heavy curtains were pulled across the windows and prevented any sunlight from entering; none of the lights were on either. Sighing at the open books and scattered papers on the desk, Louis made his way to the bed and studied his brother.

William was lying on his right in the middle of the spacious bed, left arm stretched out towards the edge as if he had been reaching for something. If it weren’t for his peaceful expression, Louis would have thought that his brother had had one of his nightmares.

Ever since they had moved to Durham, the frequency of William’s nightmares had decreased, even if still rather violent when he did have one. Albert and Louis had been thankful for that at least, since it meant that their brother could get some rest. A month in and he had already started to look better than he had been in London.

Four years had passed since then and William had overcome most of his trauma, able to quickly move past even one of his crueler nightmares on his own. Not that Albert and Louis wouldn’t help, but currently Albert was busy with taking over the Moriarty family business and Louis was dealing with exams.

“Hmm…Louis?”

The younger blond jolted out of his thoughts and focused back on the present to see William blinking at him with bleary eyes, a smile crossing his face when he noticed Louis’ attention on him.

“Is it morning?”

“Yes, Brother. It’s almost 8 A.M.”

“Oh…”

Perching on the edge of the bed, Louis took his brother’s hand when William reached for him, intertwining their fingers. “You don’t have to get up if you don’t want to, though. It’s Saturday.”

William hummed, “Do you have anything to do, Louis?”

“No, not at the moment. Is there anything you need me to do for you?”

“There is,” William said with a smile, using his grip on his younger brother’s hand to pull him onto the bed. Taken off guard by the sudden action, Louis went sprawling over the sheets and blinked in bemusement as his brother manhandled him until William was wrapped around him.

“Brother?” Louis questioned even as he put his arms around the older blond’s waist, hugging him. While it was quite normal for the brothers to end up curled around each other most of the time, it was rare for William to initiate it.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry. I just…I dreamt of the past.”

Louis stiffened at the implications, tilting his head back a little to meet his brother’s eyes. “It truly wasn’t anything bad?”

The unconcealed concern made William chuckle fondly and he stroked Louis’ head in a comforting manner. “Not at all,” he assured. “It was about one of our peaceful times when the three of us were children, after we burnt down the manor.”

“Oh.”

After considering it and deciding that William didn’t really look shaken, Louis gave a nod and snuggled back into his brother’s arms. “Do you miss that life?”

“No. I don’t and won’t regret that life, but this one is nice. What about you, Louis?”

“As long as I’m with you, anything is fine,” Louis mumbled, feeling a little drowsy being surrounded by warmth.

That was not an unexpected response, but it still made William smile. His little brother was the reason he fought, never giving up no matter what life threw at him. Once, long ago, he had forgotten that, choosing death over his loved ones, even if it had been for a worthy cause.

William would never make that mistake again.

“Ah, there you are.”

William and Louis lifted their heads to see Albert standing in the doorway, a smile on his face.

“Brother Albert!”

The eldest Moriarty closed the door and stepped into the room, removing his tie and shrugging off his jacket as he went, tossing them onto the back of a chair, leaving him in a plain white shirt and dark slacks. Albert sat on the bed, chuckling when both William and Louis grabbed his arms. He obliged their silent request and kicked off his shoes, allowing himself to be pulled onto the bed.

When he was situated between his younger siblings, Albert asked, green eyes sparkling with amusement, “Is there a reason for this?”

William uncharacteristically huffed in annoyance and angled his head to glare at his older brother, “Do we need a reason to cuddle?”

“Of course not,” the brunet replied with a soft smile. While none of them had been much for physical contact in their past lives, they seemed to be making up for it now. Not one of their friends questioned it, because they knew and understood why. Those who didn’t, knew to keep their mouths shut. “I was just curious.”

Appeased by the answer, William settled back down. “How’s work?”

“It’s a lot less hectic than I’d anticipated. Jack did a good job all these years, so there wasn’t much for me to look over. The new branch in Durham should be opened in a few weeks.”

Louis, who had been silent until then, perked up, “Does that mean you don’t have to go to London?”

“Unless it’s a major meeting, I wouldn’t have to,” Albert replied, the tone of his voice giving away his delight. He hadn’t wanted to return to London on his own; William would be starting at Durham University soon and Louis would be joining him the next year. If Albert moved back to London, it would become hard to see each other often.

Establishing a new branch in Durham had taken care of that and it also meant that Jack would be able to stay in Durham full time, since Albert had taken control of the business.

“But do you really not want to return to London now, William?”

There was a reason for Albert to ask that.

Four years ago, William had hesitated to move to Durham because he had hoped to find Sherlock Holmes in London. But his concern for Louis and his own well-being had overpowered it and he had ended up agreeing.

For him to delay his return to London now was surprising.

“I am sure, Brother Albert,” William said with the exasperated air of someone who had had the same conversation multiple times. “Sherlock would understand if he also remembers. Besides, he’ll know that the only places I’m likely to be in are London and Durham. I’m sure we will meet again.”

“He’d better,” Louis muttered darkly, fingers twitching as if he wanted to reach for his knives. Though he had gotten along fairly well enough with Sherlock after a few years in their past lives, he still didn’t completely approve of the man. But he would bear with it for his brother’s sake.

The older blond stared blankly at his younger brother then at his elder brother, eyes narrowing when the brunet smirked. Not wanting all the attention to remain on him, William asked, “What about you and your beau, Brother Albert?”

That had the effect of Albert stiffening, his smirk sliding off his face and a grimace replaced it. Louis looked a little confused, hesitantly asking, “What do you mean?”

“I’m sure you know, Louis.”

“Yes, but…”

Albert sat up abruptly, shocked. “Wait, the two of you knew?”

“Of course we did. We might not have had many chances to see you with him but it was obvious,” William informed the eldest Moriarty with a raised eyebrow from where he was still sprawled out on the bed, as if wondering who Albert was trying to delude.

Louis turned over to lie on his stomach, resting his weight on his elbows as he nodded in agreement to William’s words. “I was aware of your feelings, Brother Albert, but I wasn’t very sure of his.”

Albert sighed, falling back onto the bed with a low thump. He stared up at the ceiling, emerald eyes clouding over as he let his memories rise from the depths of his mind.

Honestly speaking, he wasn’t aware when it had started but those quiet moments spent in an office trading information and assigning missions had become precious. He had begun to yearn for those moments, hoarding each and every miniscule smile sent his way in his heart.

Before he knew it, Albert had fallen in love.

“I love him,” Albert admitted, voice soft and shaking as he finally spoke of his feelings, for the first time in both lives. William and Louis would never judge him for his emotions, as proven by the fact that they pressed closer, providing silent comfort.

“Back then too, I loved him. But I never said or showed it, not knowing where I stood with him. We might have worked together for a while but he always felt distant to me. I was content with just having his companionship.”

The two blonds listened quietly as their brother poured his heart out to them. They were aware that Albert had suffered in a different way; he had chosen to be locked up in prison, with little comfort. Even though that had been his way of atoning, because he believed that everything had started with him, it had still taken its toll on him.

Albert closed his eyes, concentrating on the warmth of his brothers to help anchor him to reality. “In this life, where I’ve never suppressed my emotions as much as before, I’m scared…I’m scared that I’ll see him and long for him, only to be rejected.”

“That won’t happen,” William said firmly once it was clear that Albert was done talking. Emerald connected with crimson, a mix of desperation and hope in the former. The blond smiled, “You never did see him after that incident, did you? I met him a few times and…well.”

Albert and Louis waited silently as William paused, seeming to be recalling a memory. He shook his head and looked back at his brothers, chuckling at their curious expressions. “No, I won’t tell you what I was thinking. But I will tell you this: Brother Albert, if you get a chance to chase your own happiness with Mycroft Holmes, don’t give it up.”

“Brother’s right,” Louis added, knowing that Albert would likely avoid the other man, making excuses to justify his behavior but it would only hurt him. “I will not claim to understand the type of love you two feel, but if that brings you happiness, you must hold on to it, no matter what.”

William already knew that he would seek out Sherlock until the end of time, but it was touching to have his brother’s support. As for Albert, he would need a push, since he was a little similar to William when it came to taking what he desired.

“I’ll try,” Albert sighed, returning his brothers’ smiles.

A new life meant new chances and opportunities, after all.

Louis looked at the clock and blinked, then rolled off the bed. He looked back at the other two, “Time to get out of bed. Brother William already skipped breakfast and I will not have either of you missing lunch.”

Laughing at the stern reprimand, Albert and William extracted themselves from the mess of sheets, following their youngest brother out of the room.

William was watching the birds fluttering about amidst the trees in the garden from where he stood in front of a large window, a cup of tea in hand. Louis and Jack had taken over the kitchen to prepare lunch, setting him up with tea and cookies in the meantime.

Albert would have joined him, but his secretary had arrived with an important document and the two had disappeared into the study, promising to be on time for lunch.

Eve Moneypenny had found them shortly after Herder had been recruited into the business. The young woman had graduated with top honors from her university and she had promptly applied for a job, recognizing the Moriarty name. Jack had immediately hired her and she had worked as his secretary, before becoming Albert’s when he had taken over.

Zack Patterson was also there with them, holding the position of Head of Security after Moran had refused it, preferring to play bodyguard for whichever Moriarty needed him. Patterson, however, was situated in London, only coming to Durham when he had to arrange security measures for Albert in case of a major contract.

To William’s surprise and never-ending exasperation, Henry Antrim, still preferring to call himself Billy, was also in England. The young man had transferred over to their company after a merger and found great delight in messing with Patterson and Moran whenever possible.

Memories of his past and present lives overlapped, making William become lost in thought as he mused on the differences.

He would never trade one for the other, but he had to admit that this life was peaceful.

Arms wrapping around his waist pulled him out of his thoughts and a warm body pressed against his back. William chuckled as a head rested on his shoulder, bright blond hair tickling his ear as the person yawned.

“Good afternoon, James.”

“Afternoon…” James Bond mumbled, pressing his face deeper into William’s shoulder. Born as Irene Adler in this life as well, he had been disinherited by his parents when he had chosen to live as a man. Louis and Moran had found him on the streets during one of their rare visits to London, the young teenager having taken to doing odd jobs to survive.

As it was, none of them would allow one of theirs to suffer and James had been promptly moved to the Moriarty’s mansion. That had been a long and complicated process, considering the teenager’s situation but they had pulled through. He was now legally registered as James Bond, attending the same school as the Moriarty brothers, in Louis’ class.

“Are you alright, James? You sound a little hoarse.”

“Eh, just a cold,” the younger blond sniffled, as if to prove his point. “You’re warm, Will…”

William hid a fond smile behind his teacup, balancing himself to support James when the younger leant more of his weight against him. “Do you want to lie down?”

“No…this is nice.”

Another pair of arms snaking around his middle had William blinking and he looked down to see a mop of dark hair pressed against his stomach. Noticing that the child clinging to him was trembling, William set his teacup down on the nearest flat surface and returned the embrace.

“Did you have a nightmare, Fred?”

The boy nodded, clinging tighter to the eighteen-year-old.

Fred Porlock was the youngest of their group, at twelve years old. While most of them had recalled their memories gradually, for some unknown reason, it had not been the same for Fred and the Moriarty brothers. The difference was that William and Louis had had each other and Albert, Jack.

Fred had had no one.

He had lost his parents at an early age and had been sent to an orphanage. As such, he hadn’t had a good support system when his more traumatic memories had awakened. Because of his reclusive personality, none of the other children had been close to him and the orphanage workers had been too harried to give him much attention.

It had been during one of Fred’s fits that William had found him, right there in Durham, three months ago.

At first, William had thought that the child curled up under the tree was sick and needed help. On approaching him though, he had immediately recognized him and so had Fred. The child had thrown himself at a shocked William, clinging to him and crying silently into his chest.

From what he had picked up from the boy’s mumbling, William had deduced that Fred had been recalling the events leading up to the fall.

That was how Fred Porlock returned to their family.

Back in the present, William wondered if their reincarnation and new circumstances in life had affected them much more than they’d thought. For example, Fred hadn’t been much for showing his emotions back then, even though he cared deeply. James had been rather independent; now he tried to keep his friends close.

“Stop thinking, Will,” James grumbled, blue eyes peering out from under his fringe to glare at the older blond. “I can almost hear you.”

William nearly snorted at that and shook his head, deciding that his previous thoughts really weren’t worth pondering over.

They were who they were and that was enough.

“Shall we relocate to one of the couches? As much as I like this, I feel that we would be more comfortable that way.”

Two young men stumbled out of the train station, laden with heavy bags and suitcases. The taller of the two had a dark look on his face, as if completely done with the world as he trudged alongside the other.

“Why am I taking care of Mycroft’s luggage again?” Sherlock growled in annoyance, hefting the bag on his shoulder when the strap began to slip. It was hard enough managing his own bags without having to handle his brother’s as well.

As if used to the complaints, John calmly replied without even looking at his friend, eyes fixed on his phone, “Because you’re the one who wanted to come to Durham ahead of time and messed up Mycroft’s schedule.”

“Ugh…”

“Come on, Sherlock, it’s your own fault so suck it up and walk.”

“Sheesh, fine.”

Sherlock, for all that he grumbled and whined, was grateful that John had decided to accompany him despite his hare-brained ideas. In his final year of school, Sherlock had given up London as a lost cause when it came to finding William and instead had set his sights on the other place where the blond was likely to be: Durham.

Unlike London which held bad memories for William, Durham was mostly neutral. It was also the place where the blond had followed his true passion: teaching mathematics. Because of that, Sherlock had deduced that if William was anywhere in England, but not in London, then it had to be Durham.

And so, there they were.

“Hey, Sherlock?”

“What?”

John adjusted his grip on his suitcase and looked at his friend with a curious expression. “While I can understand you chasing after William, why is your brother coming to Durham? I would have thought that he’d remain in London.”

“Huh? Isn’t it obvious?”

“Unlike you, I didn’t actually know Mycroft all that much in our past lives,” John shot back, rolling his eyes in exasperation. Sometimes he dearly wished to smack some common sense into his friend’s head.

Sherlock blinked at the response and had to concede that that was the truth. His friends and Mycroft had been nothing more than passing acquaintances and it was more or less the same in this life as well. “Ah, right. Sorry. It’s just that I’m not the only one looking for someone.”

“And coming to Durham will help?”

“Yeah. There’s no way those brothers would let themselves be separated,” Sherlock said, peering at John’s phone screen to study the map. He wanted to get to their new residence as soon as possible; the air in Durham was far more pleasant than in London, but that didn’t mean he liked to carry heavy bags around.

“You’re referring to the Moriarty brothers,” John mused, recalling what little he knew of them. William was obviously taken with Sherlock and so it had to be one of the other two. “Is it the eldest brother, Albert?”

“Bingo.”

“Huh. I didn’t expect that.”

Sherlock snorted and looked at his friend with a wry grin, “Which part, my brother being in love or that it was -is- Albert?”

“Both, actually. No offense to your brother, but he is so stoic that it’s hard to imagine him like that.”

“I know, right?”

“I hope both of you find them,” John murmured, smiling softly at the memory of his girlfriend. Mary had been the best partner anyone could ever ask for and he felt extremely blessed to have met her again. That was why he understood the two Holmes’ feelings; the urge to find the person who completed them was compelling and it was amazing that they had held out for so long.

Scratching his cheek, Sherlock looked away in embarrassment.

“…thanks, John.”

It didn’t take them long to find their apartment and after a short conversation with the landlord, the two friends stepped into the one they’d be sharing, along with Mycroft.

When Sherlock had announced his intention to head to Durham after finishing school, his brother had agreed easily, knowing that Sherlock knew William better than he knew Albert. John had sighed, before saying that he’d follow too, if only to keep his friend out of trouble.

“Hey, John, when are Mary and Ms. Hudson coming?!” Sherlock yelled from the room he was in, unpacking the contents of one of the bags scattered on the floor.

From the kitchen where John had been taking stock of the cabinets and the available appliances, John yelled back, “In a week! Don’t forget that Mycroft’s train will be arriving this evening!”

Unlike the two boys, Mary had chosen to continue her studies in London and Ms. Hudson couldn’t just quit her job and nor did she have any reason to. Even John didn’t have anything in Durham and had only come for Sherlock’s sake.

That was why it was only going to be Mycroft, Sherlock and John for the next few years.

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” Sherlock grumbled, picking up the bags he recognized as his brother’s and dumping them in the room next to the one he had claimed as his own. He bumped into John as he was exiting his room and he caught the other’s arm, making John look at Sherlock curiously.

“What is it?” he asked, raising an eyebrow at his friend’s hesitant expression.

“Uh…did you ever worry…?”

“Worry about what?”

Running a hand through his hair in an agitated manner, Sherlock gestured to the chairs in the kitchen. There weren’t many people he was willing to talk with regarding his thoughts but he didn’t think he could bottle it up any longer. When the two were seated, he continued his question from earlier.

“Mary…did you ever worry about her not having her memories?”

John blinked, startled by the nature of the question. He hadn’t thought that Sherlock could be harboring such doubts, with how reckless he had been acting. But he also supposed that it was like Sherlock in a way, keeping his problems and thoughts to himself.

‘Even back then, you were like that,’ John thought, studying his friend and finally seeing the anxiety in those ocean-blue eyes. He wouldn’t claim that he understood Sherlock but he couldn’t leave him to worry alone either.

“No,” he answered, making Sherlock look at him almost piteously. John felt sorry for him, but he also couldn’t lie to him, because Sherlock would realize it in an instant. All he had was the truth. “Like I told you, Mary and I are childhood friends. We knew each other before we even started recalling the past.”

Sherlock slumped back in his chair, dejected. “You’re pretty lucky, John…not that I’m not happy for you! It’s just that…”

“I get it, Sherlock. You don’t need to explain yourself to me,” John said gently, reaching across the table to pat the other’s shoulder comfortingly. “I may not be able to help, but there is someone else you can talk to.”

“Huh? Who?”

Mycroft loosened the tie around his neck as he stepped out of the building, setting course for the train station. He had finished up the processes needed for his transfer to his new workplace, which had been a pain to deal with but necessary.

‘Sherly really doesn’t make things easy for me,’ he thought wryly, debating if he should just remove his coat. The air in London was rather muggy for that time of the day and walking around in a suit was getting uncomfortable. Deciding that it wasn’t worth it to walk around all sweaty, Mycroft shrugged off his coat and tie, leaving him in black pants and a plain white shirt.

It didn’t take for him to reach the train station and Mycroft sat on one of the benches to wait. He still had an hour until departure.

Suddenly, his phone vibrated in his pocket, alerting him of an incoming call. Pulling it out, Mycroft raised an eyebrow when he saw that it was from his brother. It was rather strange for Sherlock to call him, especially since he knew that his brother was currently with John.

Nevertheless, Mycroft answered it. “Sherlock?”

“…hey.”

“Are you at the apartment now?”

“Yeah, we got here a little while ago.”

“No problems, I hope?”

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“…”

“…”

Mycroft held back a sigh, able to tell that Sherlock was holding something back. He wouldn’t have called just for some small talk. “Spill it, little brother.”

“I…I talked to John about this and he said to talk to you, but I don’t know and I just-”

“Sherly,” the older Holmes interrupted when Sherlock started rambling, more than half of his words unintelligible because of how fast he was talking. “Slow down and get to the point.”

There was the sound of someone taking a deep breath on the other end and when Sherlock spoke again, his voice was steady, if a touch nervous.

“Albert…if Albert doesn’t have memories of the past, what will you do?”

Mycroft stiffened slightly, having not expected such a deep question. But if he had to be honest, he would have thought that Sherlock would have already predicted such a possibility. After all, Mycroft had considered it many times.

So, he had an answer for his brother.

“In that case, I would start afresh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Exactly what I said. Unlike you and William, Albert and I did not have a romantic relationship,” Mycroft replied, pinching the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on and Sherlock’s questions weren’t helping. “We were barely friends, Sherly. Although I will admit that it will hurt if Albert doesn’t remember me, I will not simply give up.”

He paused, looking into the distance as he recalled emerald eyes that had glittered with the secrets the eldest Moriarty had kept close to his heart. Albert and Mycroft had been only colleagues, neither of them reaching past the shields the other had raised, even if they had wanted to.

That was why Mycroft did not quite feel the exact same way his brother did.

“This is a new life. I simply wish to make the most of it.”

There was silence on the other end of the call, Sherlock evidently mulling over his brother’s words. Mycroft waited patiently, knowing the other well enough to realize that the conversation wasn’t over just yet.

“So you’re not holding any expectations,” Sherlock said after a long pause, voice soft and thoughtful. The anxiety that had been there earlier had all but vanished, the young man feeling oddly reassured thanks to his brother.

“That is correct.”

“If I find Liam and he isn’t like us, I just have to build our relationship again, right?”

“I’m fairly sure the two of you will get along splendidly.”

Sherlock barked out a laugh and Mycroft could see his brother shaking his head in amusement in his mind’s eye.

“Yeah, we will. Wherever and whenever he is, Liam will always be Liam. Now I feel stupid for worrying.”

“It is to be expected. The two of you were practically married back then, after all.”

“Huh…now I want to make that a reality.”

It was now Mycroft’s turn to chuckle and shake his head. “Save the wedding plans for after you find him, Sherly.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Sherlock said in a dismissive manner. “Thanks, brother. Get here safely.”

“Of course.”

The call cut off with that and Mycroft tucked his phone back into his pocket, the smile on his face transforming into a subtle grimace.

Even though he had confidently stated his intentions to his brother, Mycroft was actually a little worried. Unlike Sherlock, he had zero experience when it came to romance or even appealing to another.

Sherlock had his memories of his life with William to fall back on if it came to charming the blond. It might not even be necessary; if William also had his memories, those two would easily fall into their relationship.

Mycroft had none of that.

Regardless of how the pieces fell, he was likely starting from scratch.

Still, Mycroft wasn’t one to give up. Even if he couldn’t have a romantic relationship with the eldest Moriarty sibling, they could at least be friends. He was sure of that.

Tilting his head up towards the sky, William closed his eyes, feeling the warm rays of the sun hit his face. It was a pleasant afternoon, the temperature just right and a gentle breeze making it so that no one felt overheated.

‘It’s been a while since I left the mansion,’ he thought to himself, subconsciously smiling when he heard James’ laughter in the distance, followed by yelling from Moran. The group, consisting of William, Louis, Moran, James and Fred, had come to the park since the weather was perfect for a leisurely stroll. Though the mansion had a beautiful garden, it was nice to go elsewhere for a change.

William looked around the place, studying his surroundings once again. The park was large with sprawling fields of green, tall trees providing shade and flowers giving off sweet scents. Although he didn’t come to the place often, William had to admit that it was one of his favorite spots.

‘I wonder what Sherlock would think of this place,’ he mused with a smile, looking down at the book on his lap. For once, it wasn’t one of his mathematical texts, but rather a fictional work. ‘Or as fictional as it could be,’ he thought, turning a page in The Final Problem.

Back to his first thought, the blond had been dreaming about encountering Sherlock in Durham a lot lately. It was one of the reasons that he had put off returning to London, plus a feeling that told him to wait and be patient. In any case, it wasn’t hard to remain in Durham, having mostly good memories associated with the place.

Especially that not-date William had had with Sherlock back then.

Closing the book and placing it on the blanket he had been sitting on, William got to his feet and strolled forward, humming lightly under his breath. “It really is a perfect day. It would be even better if…”

He trailed off, leaning forward and resting his arms on the safety railing as he looked down at the rest of the park.

Soon, a voice in his head told William, soft and reassuring.

Soon.

“Sherlock, could you go look in that direction? I’ll check over there.”

“If you say so…would a shady spot be good?”

“That sounds great, actually.”

“Meet you back here in ten minutes, partner.”

“Don’t get into any trouble, Sherlock!”

“Hey!”

Sherlock rolled his eyes at his friend, John laughing as he waved him off and headed in the opposite direction. The two were at the park, looking for a good spot for a picnic. Since Mary and Ms. Hudson were only coming to visit them during the weekend for a short time, they had decided on outdoor activities since the weather in Durham was too good to be shut up inside the house.

A picnic was the first on the list and because neither of them had wanted to spend the rest of the day unpacking, they had headed off to the park.

‘It wasn’t like this back then,’ Sherlock thought, looking around the park and taking in the greenery surrounding him. In his memories of the past, the place had actually been part of the forest surrounding Durham. The city had been expanded since then, covering a lot more area. ‘I like it though. Even though Durham’s developed, it still has a rustic feel to it.’

Sherlock tucked his hands into his pockets and stalked off towards the trees, looking for a shady spot that had a good view of the park. It would be a shame just to watch the trees when there was so much more to the park.

“Liam would like this place,” he said to himself, smiling at the memory of when he had crashed William’s mathematics exam and had managed to convince the blond to have lunch with him. “Actually, I wonder if that café still exists... Judging by how much time has passed, I’d be surprised if it’s still there though.”

Pausing in front of an elevated section of the park -it was like a different level, with a safety railing to keep people from falling off- Sherlock looked up, absently thinking that it really was a pleasant day.

It would be even better if only…

Soon, a voice in his head told Sherlock, loud and confident.

Soon.

Crimson and sapphire connected.

It was as if everything had come to a standstill, the two of them being the only ones in the world.

Reality and time had become abstracts as nothing mattered to them anymore, their gazes fixed on the only other person in their line of sight.

Two pairs of eyes widened, their owners freezing in shock as they drank in the vision of the other half of their souls. All of their pain and sorrow and loneliness, however deeply hidden, disappeared as if they had never existed.

From atop the elevation, William stared down at Sherlock, hands tightening on the railing until his knuckles turned white.

Below on the ground, Sherlock looked up at William, back straightening as he pulled himself upright from his slouch.

The spell broke.

William moved, a single thought in his mind as he vaulted over the railing, leaping off the edge at the same time as Sherlock lunged forward straight towards him.

They had identical expressions on their faces, a mix of disbelief, hope and longing.

But above all, the love they had for each other shone in their eyes.

Sherlock caught William, spinning around to absorb the momentum of the blond’s fall before collapsing on the ground. He didn’t care about the slight pain in his legs, fully focused on the person in his arms. After a long time of searching and waiting, he had finally found the one he loved the most.

William buried his face in the other’s hair, feeling dark blue strands tickle his nose. He didn’t mind it, instead welcoming the familiar scent of his soulmate. All of his senses were focused on Sherlock, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

“Finally…”

The word slipped out of both of their mouths at the same time, happiness coating their voices. Everything until that moment had been worth it, if they could have each other once again.

“Finally, I’ve found you, Liam,” Sherlock murmured, voice shaky with emotion. William was pressed against him, but it wasn’t enough. Sherlock tightened his arm around the blond’s waist, one hand tangled in the other’s hair. Kissing the silky golden strands, he let a few tears slip down his cheeks as he smiled.

William heard Sherlock’s words and felt the tightening grip, but made no protest when he was holding on just as tightly. He nuzzled into the other’s neck, the feeling of security and love finally sinking in and telling him that everything was real, and not a dream like he had been fearing. “I missed you…Sherly.”

After what felt like an eternity of simply holding each other, they drew back a little, just enough so that they could gaze into the other’s eyes.

“You’re more beautiful than I remember,” Sherlock said, brushing aside the fringe that covered part of William’s face and tucking it behind the blond’s ear. Crimson eyes sparkled back at him, mirroring emotions that Sherlock knew William could see in his own.

William smiled at the compliment, a touch shy. He pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s, gazing into the sapphire eyes that always reminded him of the ocean. Unable to resist the urge, he teased, “And you’ve become more shameless.”

Sherlock laughed, “Who jumped off a hill just now?”

“Well…I knew you would catch me. After all, you promised me, Sherly,” William replied with a fond smile, closing his eyes when Sherlock started peppering his face with featherlight kisses.

“I did, didn’t I?”

Sherlock hummed, brushing his lips lightly over the blond’s. None of his dreams and fantasies could compare to the feeling of euphoria upon being reunited with his soulmate after so long.

Chuckling, William played with the long ponytail Sherlock kept in this life as well. He had been right in his decision to remain in Durham, even if it had only been a fifty-fifty chance. Now that they had been reunited, William would let nothing tear them apart.

Their lips finally met in a proper kiss, sweet yet passionate, as they poured in all the feelings that they had kept locked up in their hearts for years. The contact was simple, but it felt like coming home.

Home.

They were finally home.

Standing under the shadow of a tree, Louis watched his brother reunite with Sherlock Holmes from a distance.

He had panicked when he had seen William jump over the railing and had rushed after him, not knowing what had prompted the older blond to do such a thing. When he had reached the safety rails, he had gotten his answer.

Louis had arrived just in time to see Sherlock catch William, the dark-haired teenager’s grip sure and steady, reminding Louis of another life where Sherlock had jumped off a bridge after William. The two events were totally different, the circumstances surrounding each varying in meaning and emotion.

Yet, to Louis, it seemed fitting.

“I’m happy for you, Brother,” Louis whispered with a small smile, turning on his heel to make his way back to the upper level. He had slid down the hill earlier, simply to make sure that his brother was unhurt. Now, he wanted to give William his privacy. The park was mostly empty anyway, so his brother’s reunion with Sherlock wouldn’t be interrupted.

“Sherlock? Where are you?”

The vaguely familiar voice had the youngest Moriarty blink and peer through the trees, catching sight of a young man with ash-blond hair and golden brown eyes.

“Mr. Watson?”

Whipping around at the call of his name, John found a blond teenager staring at him. Eyes widening at the familiar face, he blurted out, “You’re Louis James Moriarty!”

“Yes,” Louis replied, mildly amused by the other’s reaction. “By the way, your friend is over there with my brother.”

It took a moment for the sentence to register but when it clicked, John’s face lit up. Sherlock had been slowly getting depressed but if what Louis said was true, then he didn’t need to worry anymore. “Really? Thank goodness!”

John looked in the direction Louis pointed and spotted a head of dark hair, instantly recognizing it as his best friend. He was wrapped around a blond like an octopus and though John couldn’t see the blond’s face, he knew that it had to be William James Moriarty. No one else could get such a reaction from Sherlock.

“Ah, I guess he’s going to take a while…I might as well look around in the meantime.”

“In that case, would you like to join us, Mr. Watson?”

“If it isn’t a bother… And please call me John.”

Sherlock and William were lying on the blanket the blond had been using earlier, after a quick reunion with the others.

John had managed to squeeze in a congratulations to his best friend before James had jumped on Sherlock and William, hugging them tightly for a few seconds. After that, he had joined Moran in teasing the pair.

Louis had gathered his brother in a hug, whispering his words of congratulations into the older blond’s ear, casting a faint glare at a smirking Sherlock over William’s shoulder. Fred had been a quiet presence, hugging William and nodding at Sherlock.

The two had separated from the group a little while later, although they were still in the park. They had nowhere to be and spending time with each other was always appealing.

“Say, Liam?”

“What is it?”

“You aren’t part of the Moriarty family by blood this time around too, are you?”

William shook his head, propping himself up on his elbows so that he could look at Sherlock. “No, Louis and I were brought in by Albert when I was thirteen. Why do you ask?”

“Because Mycroft and I looked into it when we came to London,” Sherlock replied, absently raising a hand to play with William’s hair, twirling a lock around his fingers. “All we could find was that there was only the heir of the family remaining and no one else.”

“After Louis and I were adopted, Brother concealed all information about the family,” William explained. Albert had been paranoid about their safety since there had been some people eyeing the vast fortune of the Moriarty.

“Thought so. It was pretty annoying to get any information about you; things are a lot different in this era.”

“I’m sorry.” The blond ducked his head, looking guilty. “If we had remained in London, we could have met earlier.”

Sherlock frowned and gripped the other’s chin, forcing William to meet his eyes. “Mycroft and I only moved back to London four years ago. Besides, London is huge; it could have taken us at least months to see each other again. Finding you here on my first day in Durham was pretty lucky, you know?”

But the words did not reassure William. In fact, he appeared stricken.

“Four years ago?” he whispered, eyes wide. “That was when we moved…”

Sherlock understood what William was trying to say and sat up, pulling the other onto his lap. Running a hand down the blond’s back, he said, “Liam, you couldn’t have known. I would never want you to feel guilty for doing things for yourself. No matter what it took, I would have found you.”

“But-”

Silencing the other with a kiss, Sherlock hugged him. He only moved away when William melted against him, “No buts. I love you and I’m just happy to have you with me.”

William stared at the serious expression on the dark-haired teenager’s face, realizing that Sherlock meant what he said. It was the same for him: if their positions had been reversed, William would have wanted Sherlock to live freely as well.

“I love you too…Sherly.”

Mycroft stepped out of the train station, internally sighing in relief at the cooler air in Durham. London was nice, but the weather could be downright awful at times. It was five in the evening and not many people were around, which was a little surprising but he didn’t pay it any mind.

A ding from his phone told him that he had received a message and Mycroft pulled it out, noting that it was from his brother.

From Sherlock [17:03]: Hey, Mycky!

From Sherlock [17:04]: John and I are at the park! We’re thinking about a picnic dinner since it’s nice out, so think you can swing by this café on your way over?

From Sherlock [17:06]: Pick up whatever you want!

The last message was a map link to the café Sherlock had mentioned and Mycroft quickly looked it up, pleased when he found that it had good reviews. Sending an affirmative reply to his brother, he opened up the map on his phone and started heading towards the café.

As he walked, Mycroft looked around the city. The atmosphere was different when compared to London, being less busy and hurried. It looked like the sort of place anyone would enjoy being in.

‘I can see why the Moriartys would prefer this place,’ he mused, stepping to the side as a couple of laughing children ran past him. ‘It is peaceful.’

It took about ten minutes to reach his destination and Mycroft saw the café’s sign first, hastening his steps. The outdoor tables caught his attention next and out of habit he observed the place, spotting quite a few couples.

A flash of a very familiar shade of brown made Mycroft freeze.

Albert took a sip of his tea, eyes fixed on the screen of his laptop as he waited for his order. He had been on his way home from the meeting Moneypenny had requested him to attend, something that had annoyed him since he had intended to spend time with his brothers.

But work was work and he had no choice.

Halfway back after the meeting, Albert had received a call from William asking him to get some drinks and snacks from the café near the park where his brothers and friends were. Not seeing anything wrong with the request, he had agreed.

That was why he was now seated at one of the outdoor tables at the café, waiting for his order to be ready. He had deliberately chosen one of the tables in the shadowy corner, not wanting to be bothered by men and women seeking his number.

Albert had already given his heart to someone, after all.

When a shadow fell over him, he sighed internally, steeling himself to chase off yet another person attempting to flirt with him.

However, the familiar deep voice made him freeze.

“May I sit here?”

Mycroft watched as those emerald green eyes widened, disbelief entering them before they slowly rose to meet his eyes. Albert looked stunned, as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing and hearing.

After a long awkward pause, Albert forced himself to relax. Not trusting his voice, he nodded in response to the other man’s request. He broke eye contact, closing his laptop and placing it in his bag. All of that was done in an attempt to buy time.

“You’re looking well, Albert,” Mycroft commented in a soft voice as he pulled the chair out and sat down, eyes fixed only on the brunet in front of him.

Albert cleared his throat, tilting his head in acknowledgement to the compliment. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, even as nothing showed on his face. He looked up, still a little stunned, and found Mycroft watching him with a tiny smile.

“I could say the same to you, Mycroft.”

The soft expression directed at him made his heart skip a beat, a surge of hope welling up inside of him. Albert decided to take a chance and asked, “May I ask what you’re doing in Durham?”

Mycroft’s smile and expression didn’t falter as he replied with a question of his own, “Would you prefer the personal reason or the professional reason?”

Even if there was very little emotion visible on the Moriarty’s face, Mycroft was able to read him. The near imperceptible intakes of breath, the shaking of his hands and most importantly, the light pink color on Albert’s cheeks that could be passed a trick of the sunlight if one did not know him.

But Mycroft did and what he saw prompted him to make a daring move.

Albert startled in his seat as a slightly cold hand settled over his own and he looked at the man opposite him, eyes roving over the other’s face. But Mycroft wasn’t looking at him; he was watching their hands, an expression of intense concentration on his face.

The brunet intertwined his fingers hesitantly with the other’s, breath hitching a notch when Mycroft tightened his grip, effectively making it so that the two were holding hands.

“The…the personal reason,” Albert managed to say after a long moment, wondering where his composure had gone. It was worth it though, since he didn’t want to hold on to masks in front of the man he loved, especially since it was slowly becoming clear that his feelings weren’t one-sided.

Mycroft lifted their joined hands, brushing his lips against the back of Albert’s hand. He made sure to have eye contact with the brunet as he replied, “I came here to look for a certain person.”

“Who might the lucky person be, to have caught your attention?”

“Someone who acts coy even when they’re truly embarrassed. Someone with the most beautiful pair of emerald eyes, like the vast greenery of a meadow.”

The not-so-subtle compliments affected Albert more than being called out, the faint blush on his cheeks darkening. He was happy though.

Mycroft had all but admitted that he was in Durham for him.

“I think that’s enough for the roundabout compliments, Mycroft,” Albert said, giving the other man a genuine smile.

“Is that so? Then I shall give you direct ones.”

The words were spoken with such a serious gaze that it made Albert laugh and he rose from his seat a little, leaning forward to kiss the corner of Mycroft’s mouth. The simple action caused a faint blush to appear on the dark-haired man’s cheeks and Albert was delighted at being able to provoke such a reaction.

“I’m happy to see you again, Mycroft.”

“And I you, Albert.”

William hummed under his breath as he stared up at the stars, spinning around in lazy circles. Sherlock was leaning on the wall a few feet away, a fond smile on his face as he watched his lover.

The pair was on the roof of the Moriarty’s mansion, having decided to spend more time with each other rather than go to bed.

“Today was amazing,” William said after a long silence, red eyes still focused on the stars. “I got to see you again and Brother Albert found his happiness too.”

Once William and Sherlock had confirmed their respective brothers’ feelings, the two had hatched a plot to get Albert and Mycroft to meet. Knowing their personalities, neither of them would have made a move for a long time if they had seen each other again amongst others, even if they were encouraged to.

Making them interact when it was just the two of them without any judging eyes was the best course of action.

The younger couple had timed it so that Albert and Mycroft would bump into each other at the café, hoping that they would come clean about their feelings.

Their plan had worked, as evident by the way Albert and Mycroft had arrived at the park, hand in hand.

“Yeah,” Sherlock agreed, grabbing the blond when William came close to him. “It will be even more amazing from now.”

William laughed and wrapped his arms around the other’s neck. “Oh, my. How confident, Mr. Holmes. How are you so sure about that?”

Sherlock grinned, wide and affectionate. “Any day will be amazing with you, Liam.”

“…should I ban you from the internet?”

“Ha! As if that will stop me from showering you with cheesy compliments!”

It was no secret that Sherlock absolutely loved to fluster William, finding delight in cracking the polite mask the blond wore. It was easier in this lifetime, though.

“You won’t stop even if I ask you to, will you?” William sighed in mock resignation, a smile on his face as Sherlock spun them around in an improvised waltz.

“Nope!”

“I suppose I can put up with it if it’s Sherly.”

“You better, Liam!”

Above the reunited lovers, illuminating the midnight sky, the stars twinkled and shone, with promises of a beautiful future.