Chapter Text
The Moriarty estate was quiet, the kind of silence that felt purposeful rather than idle. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows of the living room, casting soft shadows on the walls. The faint crackle of the fireplace filled the room, its warmth a contrast to the cold winter day outside.
William sat at a small table, sipping tea with calm precision. His expression was neutral, his movements steady, but anyone who truly knew him would recognize the sharp focus in his eyes. The youngest of the Moriarty brothers, Louis, stood by the window, his gaze fixed on the snow-covered grounds. His hands were clasped behind his back, a slight furrow in his brow betraying his deep concentration.
Albert, the eldest, was seated on the couch nearby. He leaned back slightly, one leg crossed over the other, but his relaxed posture was deceptive. His presence, much like his words, carried a quiet authority.
For a time, the only sound was the soft clink of porcelain as William set his teacup down. Then Albert spoke, breaking the silence.
“Have you uncovered anything new about Godfrey?”
William looked up, his tone measured as he replied.
“A few things. Fred has been observing his estate closely. So far, there’s nothing unexpected, but we’ll ensure everything is in place before tomorrow.”
Louis, still at the window, turned his head slightly to listen. After a moment, he stepped away and joined his brothers, his movements deliberate. He took a seat beside Albert and folded his hands neatly in his lap.
“There’s something else,” Louis said quietly. “We’ve discovered that Godfrey is connected to a cult. They perform rituals—on people.”
Albert raised an eyebrow, though his expression remained calm.
“How predictable,” he said evenly. “A man like Godfrey doesn’t surprise me. He hides behind his wealth and title, but his actions have always been vile.”
William’s gaze sharpened, though his tone stayed cold and composed.
“That’s why we must act. Tomorrow, we’ll see to it that his influence ends.”
Louis nodded in agreement. “Fred will confirm tonight whether there are any additional complications. We need to be sure he has no unexpected guests.”
Albert was about to respond when a knock came at the door. The sound was soft but carried a certain urgency. The three brothers turned their heads as the door opened, revealing Jack. In his hand, he held a letter.
“Pardon the interruption,” Jack said, stepping inside. “This was just delivered. There’s no sender, only the address of the estate.”
William extended a hand, his expression betraying no reaction, though his mind worked quickly. Jack approached, handing him the envelope. William’s eyes fell on the seal, and for a moment, his fingers lingered on the wax.
The symbol was unmistakable—a train. It was subtle but deliberate, a reminder of a shared memory, one tied to a certain detective. William’s heart quickened slightly, though his face betrayed nothing.
Albert and Louis exchanged a glance as William opened the letter, unfolding the paper carefully. It was blank.
“Blank?” Louis frowned, leaning forward slightly. “Is this someone’s idea of a joke?”
William folded the paper again, his expression unreadable.
“Perhaps,” he replied smoothly. “Or perhaps it’s nothing at all.”
Albert studied William for a moment, his expression calm but observant. Before he could say anything, Jack spoke up.
“Shall I throw it away for you?” he asked, gesturing toward the blank paper.
William’s fingers brushed the envelope, his expression unreadable. He shook his head gently, offering a small, polite smile. “No, thank you, Jack. I just remembered there’s something I need to look into in my study. I’ll handle it myself and dispose of this on the way.”
Jack nodded, stepping back respectfully. Albert and Louis exchanged a brief glance but said nothing further.
With a quiet, measured step, William left the room, the folded envelope still in his hand. Outwardly calm, he felt the faintest quickening of his pulse, the anticipation of uncovering what lay hidden in Sherlock’s carefully crafted message...
The hallways of the Moriarty estate were quiet. As William walked, his footsteps soft against the polished floor, he allowed himself a small moment of reflection.
He recognized the message for what it was. Sherlock Holmes had sent this letter, as he had sent others before. But unlike the previous ones, this letter had slipped through William’s careful system of interception. That alone intrigued him.
As he reached his room, William closed the door behind him, shutting out the rest of the world. He crossed the room to his desk, where a candle sat waiting. Taking a match, he struck it and lit the wick, the flame flickering softly.
Unfolding the letter once more, William held it carefully over the candle’s heat. Slowly, words began to appear, faint at first but growing clearer with time.
“Liam, let’s meet tonight at seven. John isn’t here. Be cautious of Mrs. Hudson.”
William allowed himself a rare smile. He ran a finger lightly over the words before folding the letter again. His heart, usually so steady, beat faster than usual. It was ridiculous, he thought, how easily Sherlock could unsettle him—and yet, he didn’t mind.
Taking the letter, William held it to the flame and watched as it burned, the edges curling into ash. Once it was gone, he opened the window and let the ashes scatter into the wind.
He turned and sat on the edge of his bed, letting himself fall back onto the mattress. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, a quiet chuckle escaping his lips.
“I wonder,” he murmured to himself, “if Sherly is as eager for this meeting as I am.”
●
●
(A Few Hours Later)
The usual meeting room was bustling with energy as most members, except fred, had gathered to finalize the plan for the following night. Seated around the room were Louis, Albert, Sebastian, Jack, Bonde, von Herder, and, of course, William. The atmosphere was tense but focused, the weight of their mission looming over them.
However, the focus briefly shifted when William casually mentioned he would be leaving later that evening.
“You’re going out again?” Louis asked, a hint of exasperation in his tone.
William’s expression didn’t falter. Instead, he offered his usual warm, reassuring smile. “Yes, it’s a bit last minute. You know how the Madame can be. She’s quite insistent that her son gets a proper grasp of mathematics.”
He leaned back slightly, maintaining his calm demeanor as he explained further. The excuse he gave was one he had used before—an aristocratic woman who had adopted a child from an orphanage had reached out to him, desperate for help with the boy’s education. As a mathematics professor, it was only natural that William would offer his assistance.
The story was true—mostly. The woman had indeed sought his help twice, but the other nights he had “gone to tutor” were spent elsewhere—with Sherlock.
Sebastian, leaning casually against the wall, scoffed lightly. “She really needs to stop calling you on such short notice. Does she think you have nothing better to do?”
Bonde, sitting near William, gave Sebastian a pointed look. “Her son needs help, and she was kind enough to adopt a child from the orphanage. Not many nobles would do the same. At least she’s not like the others.”
Sebastian frowned but said nothing further, unwilling to openly admit Bonde had a point.
Louis sighed, glancing at William. “It’s a good thing you’re helping, but it’s frustrating that she always calls so late. She’s lucky you’re so accommodating.”
William chuckled softly, brushing off their concerns with a practiced ease. “It’s no trouble. The child’s education is important, and the woman has a good heart. Besides, you know how much I value consistency in mathematics.”
The conversation seemed to move on, much to William’s relief. Louis redirected everyone’s attention to their plan for dealing with Godfrey, and the room fell back into focus. William provided key details as the group discussed strategies, ensuring everyone was on the same page.
However, amidst the conversation, William couldn’t help but notice Albert’s silence. His elder brother sat quietly, his sharp gaze fixed on William.
Unlike the others, Albert didn’t seem entirely convinced. He hadn’t questioned William’s story, nor had he offered his usual supportive remarks. Instead, he watched with a calm intensity, as if weighing every word his younger brother spoke.
It was a subtle scrutiny, but William felt it all the same. Albert had always been able to see through him in ways others couldn’t. That was the nature of their bond—a mix of mutual respect, trust, and an unshakable understanding of each other’s strengths and weaknesses.
Still, William didn’t falter. He carried the discussion forward with his usual poise, explaining the finer details of their plan to eliminate Godfrey. If Albert suspected anything, he kept it to himself. For now.
●
●
As the others left the meeting room, von Herder stayed behind, as usual, deep in his own thoughts. William was about to follow the group upstairs when he felt a hand land on his shoulder.
“William? Can we talk for a moment?” Albert’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made William pause.
“Of course,” William replied, turning to face his older brother.
Albert studied him for a moment, his gaze unwavering. Then, with a quiet sigh, he spoke. “Where are you really going when you leave? You've been disappearing for hours, sometimes entire nights. I understand you’re old enough to do as you please, but…”
Albert trailed off, his concern evident in his eyes.
William placed his hand lightly over Albert’s hand still resting on his shoulder, offering his usual warm smile. “Ah, you don’t need to worry, brother. I’ve just been a bit busy lately, juggling things here and there.”
Albert didn’t seem entirely convinced. He looked at William closely, as though trying to read him. “You know you can talk to me if something’s wrong, right?”
William nodded, his smile never wavering. “I know. Really, I’m fine.”
But what could he say? Oh, by the way, I’m seeing Sherlock Holmes, our supposed enemy? That wouldn’t go over well.
Still, William couldn’t shake the feeling that Albert might handle the truth better than Louis would. After all, Albert had once confessed something about his own brief relationship with Mycroft Holmes, Sherlock’s brother.
That incident had caused quite a stir, especially with Louis, and it was never spoken of again. But with William and Sherlock, it was more serious, even though Sherlock didn’t know the full truth.
Albert broke the silence, his voice gentle but sharp. “I trust you, William. But I hope it’s not something... or someone... that could get in the way of the Lord of Crime’s plans.”
The emphasis on someone made William’s heart skip a beat. His neck tingled with the familiar warmth of a blush, and his mind raced.
“What do you mean, brother?” William asked, laughing a little to hide his nervousness.
Albert smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, nothing. Just teasing.”
But William wasn’t sure if Albert was being entirely serious.
“Come on,” Albert said, clapping him lightly on the back. “we should go to Louis.”
William nodded, but his thoughts were scattered. Albert’s words lingered in the back of his mind. He knew his brother was sharp—too sharp. He’d have to be careful.