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As soon as Albert James Moriarty opens his eyes, he is convinced he must be dreaming. The comfortable mattress under his body, the soft sheets… He is decidedly not in the Tower of London. He notes how his vision seems different from usual, too. He looks at his hands and does not recognize them as his. A dream, no doubt about it.
He leaves the bed and examines the room. To the best of his current capacities, at least. He can see more clearly the closer he gets to things. This is a first for him, his sight has always been extremely good. Louis was the one to suffer from near-sightedness. When he reaches the window and finally catches sight of his reflection, he forgets to breathe for an instant. The familiar blond hair, dark red eyes, and scar that greet him there do not belong to him. He sees the tears before he realizes he’s started to cry. He dries his tears with his sleeve.
Does Albert miss his brother so much he’s dreaming he has become him? This has never happened before, neither with Louis nor William. He guides himself back to the bed. He finds what he is looking for on the bedside table: Louis’ spectacles. He wears them and his vision finally clears. He starts to think this is too consistent to be a dream. Usually, he dreams of nonsensical scenarios, events he can barely remember once he wakes up. He does have nightmares, sometimes, but those are usually more memories than dreams.
With all this on his mind, he dresses in Louis’ clothes and prepares for his day. Whether this ends up being a dream or some bizarre phenomenon, he will not find out by staying inside this room.
---
The first thing William James Moriarty notices when he wakes up is how dark everything is. He doesn’t know where Sherlock has gone off to, but he never leaves for too long without a warning, so he’s not too worried about that. Still, he feels himself pout. It would have been nice if he’d woken him up to say goodbye. He turns to lie on his back and forces himself to sit up.
After his vision gets used to the darkness around him, he realizes his depth perception seems to work again, which… should not be the case. He touches the skin around his left eye. The lack of an eyepatch doesn’t bother him, he usually takes it off before sleep. What he finds unusual is the absence of the scar he has grown used to. This makes any lingering drowsiness leave his body immediately.
And with his senses fully alert, he notices more strange things. His hair is longer than it should be. This is not the room he usually shares with Sherlock inside their flat in New York. The only source of light is currently the small window on one of the walls. He gets up from bed in search of a mirror, hopefully, to confirm his suspicions. He finds none, but the familiar sight of his hands which definitely do not belong to him already gives him a clue to his appearance.
He approaches the door and finds he cannot open it. Imprisoned, then. He guessed as much.
William goes to the window, then, to try and make out his reflection. It is no easy feat to see anything with how dark the room is, but he sees enough. Albert. A wave of relief washes over him. His brother is alive, he is okay. One of his biggest worries while implementing the last step of his plan was how Albert would react after everything was done (sweet, sensitive, emotional Albert, who always seems to feel everyone’s pain as his own, even though he often tried to hide it); how everyone else would react. But Albert, at least, is alive. And then he worries again. He is in prison.
He must have turned himself in, he guesses. To pay for their crimes. He feels a pang of guilt in his chest. It seems that Albert has decided to carry their sins by himself, just like William himself decided to do when he jumped off that bridge. But he is well, content, and away from everything in a different continent while his older brother is trapped in this room. He tries to clear those thoughts from his mind. He is trying to atone in a different way, he knows that. But when confronted with the reality of what Albert is experiencing… he cannot help but feel that it’s not fair. He considers trying to get Albert out now that he has the chance but finally decides against it. He should let him make his own decisions. The fact that he is still alive reassures him that he, at the very least, will not be subjected to the death penalty. Mycroft’s influence, maybe.
His train of thought takes him somewhere else, then. If he is currently in Albert’s body… does that mean Albert is in his? God, he hopes not. There are few things he would consider more embarrassing.
Before he can worry too much about that, he hears something hit the window glass. There is a pigeon there, seemingly waiting for him to open the window. He does. The pigeon enters the room and lands close to him, on the windowsill. That allows him to detach the message it carries on its leg. It seems he’ll be getting some information about what’s going on, then.
---
When Louis James Moriarty wakes up, he has to force himself to stay still. There is someone in bed with him. Holding him, in fact. They have an arm draped over his waist and he can feel their breath on the nape of his neck. He feels himself shiver. Louis tries not to make any rash decision, whoever it is, they are at least as big as he is, if not bigger, so Bond is immediately ruled out. His mind first thinks of Moran, before he reminds himself the Colonel is still missing. As much as he would want him to come back, he doubts this would be how he’d do it. Master Jack wouldn’t do anything like this either.
So, he has no idea who it is. They seem to be asleep, but he has no way of knowing if they are pretending. As far as he knows, this could be some sick trap, but since he is not tied up, Louis has the advantage as long as they do not notice he is awake. He needs to think. He moves slowly, reaching for the knife he always keeps under his pillow. It’s not there. He tries not to panic. With his training, he should be able to win against his opponent in hand-to-hand combat if he catches them off guard. And so, he waits.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the figure behind finally stirs.
“G’morning, Liam,” greets a familiar voice. “You’re up awfully early today. Everything okay?”
Louis cannot believe his ears. It sounds deeper, probably due to sleep, but he knows that voice. He immediately turns to look at the man behind him. He finds a still half-asleep, and half-naked, Sherlock Holmes. His first thought after processing the fact that he called him Liam is to kick him off the bed.
“What the hell?” asks a very confused Sherlock. He looks up at Louis and his expression changes from annoyance to genuine surprise. “Who are you and why do you look exactly like Liam?”
That prompts Louis to get up and look at himself in the mirror. He does look exactly like his brother. And that also lets him see the scar over his eye. He screams at Sherlock, asking him why his brother is blind in one of his eyes, where the hell they are, and why didn’t they write to let him know they were alive? If his eyes become a little wet, Sherlock does not comment on it.
The detective pieces everything together and realizes with whom he is speaking. He dresses properly to relieve a bit of the awkwardness he knows Louis must be feeling and goes toward the kitchen.
“Coffee?” he asks. He would offer tea instead, but knowing Louis, that might actually offend him.
Louis finally stops talking.
“Sure. We might as well discuss things before I kill you for putting your filthy hands on my brother.”
Sherlock just sighs. This is going to be a very long day for him. He just hopes Liam is okay, wherever he is. He’s made a lot of progress, so he probably will. But he kind of misses him, already.