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“-m?”
William could tell, even with his pounding headache, ringing ears, and the everlasting ache of his bones, that he was in a bed. The fingers at his side, tucked under a plush sheet, managed a small twitch when he commanded them to.
”-am?”
He could do without the incessant shaking of his shoulders, however. Though he felt quite like he was on a carriage ride down a rocky road, his lips managed to mutter a complaint. Whatever or whoever had been shaking him got the message and stopped.
“Thank god.”
Now that most of his symptoms had receded to the depths of his still-sore core, and he could hear more clearly, he risked opening his eyes. The ceiling staring back at him was unfamiliar. It was glaringly plain—merely a muted grey, nary a flourish or golden touch, and a faded blue painted on the peeling walls.
It matched quite well with the black-blue hair of the man leaning over William’s resting body. With a huff, he sat back down in the armchair pressed almost all the way against the bed.
“Don’t worry me like that again, Liam.”
In this strange circumstance—that being the fact that William had no idea where he was—it would have been wonderful to see a familiar face who could explain. Perhaps Louis. Yet when William searched the room for his brother’s light blond hair, he found no such thing. Only this man’s expectant face.
“Liam?” His earlier faux-annoyed tone dipped down into what William could only describe as concern.
“You are…?”
William racked his brain for a name to match the face, but when he did, his body thrummed with a pervasive feeling. Not only that he didn’t recognize these walls, but that he couldn’t pin a picture to much of anything. Not his bedsheets, the colour of his favourite tea, or the voice of his adopted father. His nostrils filled with the scent of gunpowder and smoke and a metallic tang reminding him of blood, but it left as soon as it came.
His headache returned, putting a tight pressure on his skull, but he choked down the sudden nausea following it closely.
“The man…” William fought to keep the smug smile and skull ring he did remember in his memory. The faint warmth of a sea salty breeze stung at his senses. “The man among the Noatic.”
“Liam?” For someone William didn’t know much about, he looked quite like he’d had his heart ripped out and crushed. “What’s the last thing you remember?”
“The Noatic.” That part was the clearest, at least. Standing just past the exit ramp, his cane tucked under his arm. “Mr. Holmes.” The name had come to him so suddenly it felt quite like a train speeding down at him foolishly standing on the tracks. “Mr. Sherlock Holmes.” Doubt crept up just behind him. “Right?”
Instead of relief, Mr. Holmes looked like he’d been slapped by his own mother. “It’s Sherly.” William’s face scrunched up, confused, and he didn’t know what they’d done to earn dropping titles, let alone being called nicknames. “You call me Sherly, Liam.”
“It’s Mr. Moriarty, Mr. Holmes.” The names stung on his tongue, but he pressed on firmly. “Not even my brothers call me Liam.”
The pervasive feeling returned just as quickly and lingered still.
“Yeah.” Mr. Holmes looked just as pained as before. “Something’s wrong with you. What’s the last thing you remember?”
He had asked before, but seemed unsatisfied with the way William couldn't pin anything specific down. “The Noatic,” he said. “You told me your name.”
"Liam, that was-” Mr. Holmes threw his head back and somehow pressed himself deeper into the chair. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
William got the feeling that question wasn’t meant for him, but perhaps for the ceiling or even God himself.
He wasn’t so foolish to not realize that it was most likely he had been the odd one out; with the way every centimetre of his body ached and just how much he struggled to recall much of why it would be that way, it was clear that he had gotten himself into some trouble that left him missing memories.
No matter. He would get them back, and then he’d know why this strange detective he’d met aboard a ship once was calling him ‘Liam’ with the saddest eyes.