Chapter Text
The moment the search for the Lord Of Crime, the man, or group, I should say who has plagued the entirety of the city in crime and the greatest detective in all of London has been abandoned, it set off wheels of motion in many people, particularly in the people who were the closest to the two individuals.
“I-I am deeply sorry, Dr. Watson, Miss Hudson. We have been trying for weeks and weeks, 3 months in fact, and we have come up with nothing. Not even a single hint or clue that might lead to their whereabouts. There really is no more reason to carry on the search.” Inspector Lestrade spoke grimly with a look of sorrow on his face. He placed his hand by his chest as a sort of respect to the man who would usually sit by the window in this very room and listen to cases presented to him by Scotland Yard, often taking up murder cases enthusiastically. Now there will no longer be a need to bring cases to 221B Baker Street, for Sherlock Holmes was no longer there to solve it.
Miss Hudson gasped, suddenly feeling very faint. John rushed by her side the moment he identified the symptoms.
”I.. am really sorry..” Lestrade repeated himself, mumbling, his voice softer this time. He looked down at the carpeted floor, surprised at himself for feeling a tad emotional. Sherlock was a close ally in crime solving, after all.
Lestrade knew he should provide the two some time to process the news. Just as he was about to turn around and leave, he was interrupted by John, who conveyed his words strongly and powerfully.
He balled his fists and gritted his teeth, before announcing, “Then.. I will not let Sherlock be forgotten. I will tell his adventures and stories to the public.”
Lestrade turned around, “How will you intend to do that?”
“P-people read stories, do they not? So if I could present Sherlock’s story, and his final battle with Moriarty, then people will know, everyone will know him for who he truly is. I know although he may present a tough and cold exterior, but really, he has a kind heart. Remember, he shot Milverton in order to keep my dear Mary and I safe. Now that I cannot see him again and thank him for all that he has done for me in person, I can thank him through the power of storytelling. Maybe.. he will even see what I write about him.”
”The Final Problem?” Lestrade asked, tilting his head slightly.
John unclenched his fists and gave a short sigh, "Yes.. I just, really miss Sherlock."
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The team had already parted ways before hand, the death of their boss being the signal that concludes the end of their last mission, the last mission being not to interfere with the ending of The Final Problem.
Each of them were allowed to choose how they want to continue their lives. Jack proceeded to work as a servant for another aristocrat who generously donated to the London recovery fund. When he said he was going to work for another aristocrat, he made sure the man that he was going to work for was a decent and kind hearted man, because Jack was not going to forget what William was fighting for all this time.
Sebastian Moran thought that there was not much for him left in the city, so he had retired to her countryside and took up work for a farmer, tending to the animals and constantly taking up repair work. Moran always liked physical activity, so just because he had left city life does not mean he had also invited dullness in his future years.
Fred Porlock, similar to Moran, had put down his blades and left London along with Moran. The two live together in a single cottage now, where they go about their daily lives avoiding having to kill people, unless necessary.
Irene Adler, or James Bond, had become an apprentice for Herder, where she is now learning all about weapons, and how to make them. Knowing herself, she could slip up again and put her life in the way of harm, so it would be pretty useful if she could learn to make her own professional styled weapons to defend herself.
As for Louis, during the three months of his older brother's absence, he felt conflicted for a few weeks, anxiety overcame him constantly. However, he then remembered what his brother wanted, what his brother had been trying to fight for all this time, equality, and to have everyone to live happily and peacefully in this new world created thanks to the Moriarty plan, and that includes Louis.
Now without the guidance of his brother, he must make a new path for himself.
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"This is just fine, thank you. Here is the advanced payment." Louis spoke, hastily scribbling in his chequebook before tearing out the page and handing it to the man who was selling him the apartment.
"Thank you for your purchase. I will come collect the next payment the first day of the next month." The realtor said, accepting the cheque. Louis was handed the key ring that had two keys rung around it, the main one and spare one.
This new apartment was now Louis's new permanent living space. New home, new job, new life.
He walked over to the boxes full of a couple of items that belonged to him in the manor. The manor was now almost empty of all personal possessions, save for the furniture. The rest of the belongings were taken by those who used to live there.
One of the objects he has received from the box labelled "Louis" was a photo frame, and buried beneath this one frame were many other photos in frames. There was one of William and Albert together on a terrace of a restaurant. That photo was taken the day when the two brothers had just completed a mission, a tough mission, so Albert brought William to this favourite restaurant of his as a sort of celebratory lunch. While they were there, it just so happened to be a perfect photo opportunity.
Another photo was of Albert, William and Louis all together, a family picture. The oldest brother of the trio, Albert, sat on a chair with his two younger brothers flanking his sides in a polite manner and fashion.
Louis knew that his family was split apart now, with Albert bring arrested on the behalf of William, and William himself presumed dead. It seemed like the youngest of them all was the only one left. It truly is pitiful by the mere sound of it. But if Louis were to be asked on whether he found his current situation pitiful, most likely his answer would be no. First of all, William had finally brought everyone to his goal, a goal that had been out of his grasp for so long, and yet he never even gave up on it for even a second. Second of all, it was a world changed. More specifically, a new era, where the commoners and aristocratic classes have united as one to fix their dear home damaged by the Lord Of Crime. This was a huge step in history. It would have never happened without The Moriarty Plan.
Louis held the picture close to him, keeping it real close. He hopes that from now on all the memories that contained his brothers and their friends, even the most violent and brutal ones, will never slip away. A part of each and every one of them will always remain in him.
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A black haired man wearing a short cloak and hood over his head stood at the end of the pathway, pausing when he had turned the corner on the stone path. He looked around for a few short seconds before his sharp eyes had finally rested upon a protruding sign that was fixed onto the side of the wooden building. He smiled, knowing that his trip here had totally been worthwhile. All the weeks, months, of following his trail had finally paid off, and the person he was expecting to find should be in the bar. Yes, there is no mistake about it.
Even though he had spent quite a long time away from home, He still recalls very well, with that spectacular memory of his, that bars in London usually would not be busy and crowded during the time when the sun still shines. But this bar, which was his destination, was different.
Another man who was already in the bar sat at the front counter all alone. His singularity helped him not to catch any attention, he liked it this way, and had been in this solitary state for the past hour. Actually, he was not really aware of the time passing by, losing track of time. Every now and then, the bartender who was cleaning cups would glance over to this man once in awhile, but he thought that it would be best not to disturb him for he looked as if there was something of importance on his mind. But the bartender's attention was turned to the door of his bar when he heard it creak open and close. This door would creak every single time it was opened or closed, considering how old it was. You could tell how old it was just by its faded colour. In fact, just about every door one this street had the same faded effect on their wooden doors.
"Scotch." The black haired man who had just entered the bar spoke his request loud and clear. He sat down in front of the counter and set his bag right next to him.
The bartender sighed and a smile emerged on his bearded face to welcome the new customer whom he does not recognize. One look at the man's bag told him that he was from out of town. "Sir, this is Switzerland." He turned round the poured out another type of white liquid into one of the newly cleaned cups and presented it in front of his new customer, "This is kirsch. Give it a try."
The customer looked down at the drink in front of him. he could tell that it was not a very strong smelling type of alcohol. The bartender looked over to the bag his customer had bought in with him and commented, "I doubt you're this far into the countryside on business. Are you out here chasing after a woman?"
The customer took off his hood with a smile and reached for the contents of his bag while replying, "No. I'm looking for a friend."
"What sort of friend?" The bartender asked.
The customer finally found what he was looking for in his bag, and placed it on the table right next to his drink. "Well, let's see.." It was book which he had taken from his bag, a book titled 'Sherlock Holmes: The Final Problem'. "One that would look up at a spiral staircase and check for the golden ratio."
The bartender thought that it was a weird description to use for a friend, but to the man who was already at the bar counter, a blonde haired man who was sitting just about 2 meters away, he knew what this description meant. It meant that he had finally been found by the person who was the most eager to save him from his own plan 3 months ago. He thought that he could go a few more weeks without being discovered, but alas he knew it would be near impossible to outrun one of the greatest detectives in all of London.
"That sort of friend." The customer spoke before he raised his head and turned to the man a few feet away from him. The smile om his face had grown into a grin.
The blonde haired man, whose face previously was the expression of zero emotion, he too smiled. He was starting to wonder when he would be found.
By now, the bartender had turned away and continued to wash the dirty cups that have come across him in need by a good cleaning.
"William." Sherlock called out to him, extending his arm along the table. "It took me awhile. I must say, you are very good at Hide and Seek. No wonder you could always outrun me in London! Very impressive. But as much as I hate to say it, your game of Hide and Seek has ended. I have found you. No more running away."
William at first did not know if he was really running away. In his mind it was to escape from his past life, but in the eyes of the detective it was considered running away."
"Congratulations, Holmes." William mumbled. There was no drink in front of him, but Sherlock could tell he was wishing for one right about now. No intending to disturb the busy bartender, he pushed his glass of kirsch over to William's end of the bar.
"Here. I doubt I would even like this stuff anyways."
"Interlaken's alcohol is to my surprise, good. Not up to the standards of alcohol in London, for sure, but it definitely does have its own unique taste to it." William spoke in a casual tone, picking up the glass and taking a sip. "It appears that I have been drinking a little more of late. When have I ever decided that I would let this become a habit?"
"Oh? Did you drink a lot back then?"
"No. I was more of tea person instead of a alcohol person. Louis knew that very well."
"I see." Sherlock had noticed that William's tone had begun to falter a bit at the mention of his brother. He must miss him. Sherlock thought.
William had something on his mind. Until now, he did have the idea of asking Sherlock, if he crossed paths with him again, about why did he think on embarking from his comfortable life in London in order to find someone that has given him nothing but trouble and lies.
"Ah ah ah, that's where you are mistaken, William."
"Mistaken about what?"
"I know that you have a very brilliant mind. After our encounter on the train, Inspector Lestrade even admitted to saying that your brain was at a level that could rival the likes of mine. So I think you know very well why I'm here. Sure, you're right. I could have gone back to my normal life, but I came mainly due to the one thing you said."
"What did I say?"
"Catch me if you can, Mr Holmes. It sounded like a challenge."
"I doubt that that line would be the only reason you traveled all the way out here." William chuckled.
"Of course it isn't, but it is the main one. To me, that line held so much meaning."