Chapter Text
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. And this I believe to have been the case with our dear friend William James Moriarty.
As for myself, I am not averse to marriage. Indeed, I should enjoy it more than most, as my present condition is hardly conducive to it. But there are certain conditions which render even the possibility of a happy union unattainable; namely, that my income be insufficient to meet those expenses which it would otherwise entail, and an adequate supply of ready money necessary to carry me through any emergency of which it may become possible.
This is all very well, but what exactly does one do when both money and means are at a complete standstill? It was no use telling Mr. Holmes that he could find himself some employment, as Mr. Sherlock Holmes had already provided for his own support for quite some time now.
Mycroft, who has always made an effort to keep up with all aspects of his brother's life, and knows all too well how much he likes to travel and smoke (and perhaps to drink?).
Sherlock ought to try applying for a position as a detective for the Scotland Yard.
(“I will write them a letter to put it on your behalf,” Mycroft told him.)
This suggestion was also promptly shot down by Mrs. Hudson stating that Sherlock would never agree.
°•°•°•°
And so that is how I, Dr. John Watson, ended up asking The Lord of Crime, William Moriarty to help the stubborn man Sherlock is.
Of course, Moriarty agreed without hesitation. In fact, he looked almost eager.
But there was something else about the man which caught my attention, something that puzzled him. His eyes were cold; emotionless. There were only two men alive whom I had ever seen look like that; and they were both dead.
I was ecstatic that he agreed maybe just maybe he might talk some sense into Sherlock. If anyone could get him to see reason it would be him.
“Well then, Doctor,” Moriarty began. “What seems to be the problem?”
He sounded almost eager now, although I still couldn’t quite place what exactly had set him off earlier. I decided to take a chance and ask. Maybe he’d know what to do, or maybe even offer advice.
“Have you ever noticed anything strange about Mr. Holmes lately?” I said. Moriarty raised an eyebrow.
“Strange? You mean aside from the fact that he’s constantly getting involved in dangerous situations?” Moriarty chuckled. “I wouldn’t say that is particularly strange. After all, what do you expect of a consulting criminal?”
That last part seemed to irritate Moriarty, as he scowled.
“But that’s beside the point.” He continued. “He seems… different somehow, but I can’t really tell if it’s a side effect of having the Mind Palace.”
He paused, then continued with another sigh.
“Or perhaps it’s because he doesn’t think he deserves happiness, after everything he’s done in the past few years?”
Now we were getting somewhere. I took a deep breath.
“That’s actually the reason why I came here today. I thought perhaps you could do something. He seems happier and less tired when he's with you.” I plainly said.
“Ah, if that's the case I guess I could ask him to spend some time with me Dr. Watson.”
“That would be most appreciated. Thank you William.”