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Dusk had fallen upon London. Lamplighters lit up the streets and pubs were filled with men. Those lights could do nothing for the metaphorical shadows that hid in the cracks of the “perfect” British empire. Walking along the streets was a blond teenager. From his clothes to his manners, he was obviously a noble. He had no reason to look twice at any of those shadows when he lived in the light.
William James Moriarty was wandering aimlessly through the streets of London. He had felt inexplicably stifled in the manor, not because of anything his brothers had done but, still, he needed to be far, far away. The streets of London were not safe for a young, handsome noble but what very few knew was that the cane he carried was fitted with a blade and he knew the streets even better than most street urchins.
Humming quietly, he went through plans, ideas and thoughts of all kinds. He wasn’t able to do anything about it. Long used to the endless churning of his mind, he distracted himself by observing his surroundings. It was only his incredibly sharp eye that let him notice the small child huddled into a literal hole in the wall. He had messy, unwashed black hair and sickly pale skin, marred by the bright red flush of fever. His grey eyes were dull, lifeless as he heaved shallow breaths.
There was no one to see William’s actions, no one to question why a noble would help a sickly lower class child. He had no expectations to live up to as he slipped into the alley and knelt in front of the child. From this perspective, he could get a better look at him. He was as small as a 6 or 7 year old but seemed more likely to be 10 or 11. He also held an intelligence behind those eyes that most wouldn’t notice but William, the 16 year old who was already in university and orchestrated the deaths of not only his adopted family but other rotten nobles, was anything but normal.
“Hello child, what is your name?” He asked, a soft smile on his lips. The child said nothing. He doubled over when a particularly strong coughing fit overtook him and his small frame shook. William furrowed his eyebrows. He was no doctor but this looked like pneumonia. He took his handkerchief and gently rubbed the dirt from his cheeks. The child watched him with wide eyes as he was treated with gentleness.
“You don’t need to answer my question.” He spoke as he worked. “My name is William James Moriarty. If you would like, I could take you back to my home. You could use the hot water and sleep in one of our guest rooms.”
The child looked visibly unconvinced. William could see he was intelligent and that he needed treatment. He had the perfect way to make him trust him, at least a little. He pulled off his gloves and rolled up his sleeves half way up his forearms. There was a reason he always wore gloves, his hands were much too rough and the whipping scars on his arms from the real William’s mother were not what you’d find on the skin of a noble.
“I may wear their clothes and have learnt their manners but I am not one of them.” It was a slight gamble, he had given this random child his full name and the knowledge he wasn’t born into the family but he could see that intelligent shine in his eyes. He saw the moment his distrust waned into hesitance. He didn’t trust him (why would he?) but he might be inclined to accept his help which was all he wanted. The child didn’t speak but nodded his ascent. William smiled encouragingly and helped him up.
The child’s shivers became more violent in the open streets. Without a word, William removed his blue scarf and wove it around his neck and over his head. He also fashioned it in such a way that he covered his mouth and, subsequently, kept the sickness from spreading. The child watched with wide eyes. They then continued walking. At some point, the child’s hand reached out and slipped into his. William just gave it a gentle squeeze as they continued onwards. If the child wanted to pretend to be younger than he actually was, he wasn’t going to stop him, especially if the action did bring him comfort.
After a while, the child was swaying a bit. They still had another 10 minutes. William stopped and so did the child.
“Can I pick you up? We still have a while to go from here and I don’t want you to collapse.”
The child looked up at him, fever delirious. He nodded, looking like his neck couldn’t support his head. He suspected the only reason the child had accepted his help was because he was so sick that, even if he did something awful to him, it couldn’t be any worse than his current predicament. In one smooth motion, he put an arm under him and lifted him against his chest, holding him there with his other arm. The child wrapped his arms around his neck and curled his legs around his waist. His head was on his shoulder, near his ear, and he could hear each raspy breath.
They were home and not too soon. Once they were through the door, he awkwardly put aside his cane and hat before heading straight for the nearest bathroom, dirty shoes be damned.
The nearest bathroom was, incidentally, adjacent to his bedroom. He put the boy down on a seat in his room before heading off and filling up the bath. While that happened, he went back in and stripped himself of his outer clothes until he was left in a shirt, trousers and waistcoat. He then rolled up his sleeves before going into a crouch in front of the boy.
“I’m going to take you into the bathroom next door. Before that, can I undress you? I understand if you’d want to do it yourself, seeing as you are at least 10.”
That got the first proper reaction from the child in the form of his eyes widening. He looked Wiliam over as though just seeing him for the first time. Then, very hesitantly, nodded. He wasn’t wearing much, just the scarf, a ratty shirt, tattered shorts and worn shoes. He removed each slowly but efficiently, not wanting to spook him. He left his underwear on before telling him to stay there for a second.
In the bathroom, the bath was high enough so he turned off the stream. It was lukewarm which was much better for a fever. He then went to add product to the bath water that obscured the surface. He went back and guided the boy into the bathroom. He turned away to let the boy remove the last of his clothes and settle into the water. He was hesitant to even look away for that, he was clearly on the verge of collapse. As soon as the sound of water shifting stopped, he turned back around. The child was coughing again and William was careful to keep his distance, aware just how hard pneumonia could be to treat. He then came up behind him and pulled up a stool to sit on.
The child clearly didn’t want to speak, or maybe couldn’t, and William had no need to break the silence as he poured shampoo into his hands. He leant forwards and put his hands into his hair, rubbing the product into his scalp with gentle scratches. He didn’t seem to have lice by some miracle which made it easier. The boy gave the smallest sigh of contentment and leant into his touches like a cat butting its head into a hand. William smiled softly as he continued his work.
“I remember how annoying it was, having greasy hair all the time.” William decided to break the silence. He had already revealed things to this child that could ruin him, what's one more. If he was giving up a bit of himself in hopes it would be returned, well, that was no one's business but his own. “I had shoulder length hair for a while and only got it cut when I was taken into an orphanage. I would do this for some of the other children but I might be a little out of practice.”
He returned to silence. After a few moments, the child spoke for the first time.
“Thank you, Mr Moriarty.” His voice was hoarse, likely from the coughing, and his voice was already soft. It made it hard to catch even a word. “My name is Fred.”
It wasn’t a full name but it was a show of trust nonetheless. William’s expression softened, even though he couldn’t see. “Good to meet you, Fred.” He removed his hands and gently manoeuvred him until he was seated under the shower head. Fred watched with mild interest as he turned the water back on and ran his fingers through his hair, combing tenderly so he wouldn’t tug on a knot by accident. Once he was confident all the suds were gone, he turned the water off and manhandled him into sitting upright. The water only reached his lower chest, a purposeful decision so he could more easily clean the skin.
He poured soap onto a sponge and rubbed gentle circles across his back, over his shoulders and down over his chest. Like this, it was easy to see each one of his ribs. After he finished, the water returned. He repeated this a couple of times before doing the same to the rest of his body after some adjustments. The water was nearly black from all the grime. William would normally let him finish by himself but he noticed how Fred kept nodding off and thought that was a good way to let him die.
He pulled the plug to let the water drain and ushered him into a standing position. He then turned the running water on once again and helped him through one last clean off. After that, he helped him out before capturing him in a fluffy towel. He helped him dry off and used a second to dry his hair. Putting both to the side, he gave Fred another towel to wrap around his body. He guided him back into the bedroom where he sat him on his bed and told him to wait.
After a few minutes, he returned with some old clothes of his and Louis’s that they hadn’t done off with yet. Dressed in likely the softest clothes he’d ever owned, Fred squirmed while William giggled behind his hand. He guided him into the bed and under the covers. Brushing his hair back, he leant forwards and kissed his forehead.
“Sleep well Fred.”
He was about to leave when a small hand curled into his sleeve. Fever clouded as his expression was, he looked at him pleadingly.
“Stay with me.”
William laughed again but pulled up a chair and sat beside his bed, running his hands through Fred’s hair as he nodded off. Vaguely, he wondered how his brothers would react to the new addition to the household. Once he was certain Fred was asleep, he got up and went to wake Albert. Fred would need medical treatment and it wasn’t like he could just hide a child in the house.