Chapter Text
The constant chatter mixed into one cacophony of sounds as massive crowds of people moved through the cramped isles of a christmas market. Some of them were friend groups indulging in a playful conversation over a steaming cup of mulled wine. Some were couples shopping for Christmas gifts and decorations. And some were families enjoying the carousels placed in the middle of the square. Though the two men walking down the street stood out of this perfect depiction of happiness the most.
Their contrasting silhouettes found their way through the crowds with great effort. The ravenette,who carried a cigarette between his index and middle fingers, grumbled under his breath with his eyebrows furrowed. His gaze was pointed at the pavement below their feet rather than the artwork of garlands and hundreds of little lights splashed across the wooden stalls.
“John, do we really have to do this? We’ve already wasted the whole day shopping, couldn’t we leave the christmas market thing out?” Said the black haired man. His thick inky eyebrows furrowed, forming a slight crease right above his nose.
A silent sigh escaped the other man’s lips, who was holding a microphone in one of his hands. His previous smile turned upside down at his companion’s unwanted comment.
“Honestly, how do you not get tired of complaining so much? You know, this could make some great podcast material for our dear listeners since we haven’t got any mysteries and the posting day is right around the corner,” answered the blond man beside him. “Come on, why don’t you enjoy the lingering Christmas spirit in the air?”
“You know it’s rather hard to enjoy anything when you’re pressed against god knows how many people with no space to even stretch your arm out,” retorted Sherlock, “and who would even enjoy listening to us grumble over the microphone for a half an hour?”
“We aren’t grumbling over the microphone, it’s you,” said John. “How about I get us mulled wine,huh? Just wait here and I’ll be back before you know it.”
Blissfully ignoring the eyeroll his companion gave him, John not-so-gracefully strolled over to one of the market stalls beside them with a microphone clutched in his hand. Sherlock observed his distancing silhouette for a few moments before something worthy of his attention finally caught his eye from a few yards away.
Shortly after, John’s figure emerged from the queue leading up to the stall selling spiced wine but carrying a pair of steaming mugs in both of his hands this time. He arrived just in time to witness the mess of the detective’s hair disappearing behind rows of people, using the crowds he had been badmouthing earlier to his own advantage.
“Sherlock?! Ah, shit- Alright, dear listeners, your dear detective has somehow managed to disappear into thin air so now you’re left with me for the time being,” John shouted after him before eventually heaving a tired sigh at the realization of his own inability to get to the man.
“I guess I’ll just have to wait here if I don’t want us to lose each other completely," he commented quietly.
── ✦ ──
Meanwhile, Sherlock’s figure already stood beside a man at one of the tables not too far away. The other person wore a knee-length coat over a dark brown three piece suit. His blonde hair framed his sharp cheekbones elegantly, partially covering his left eye in an attempt to deflect attention from the scar laying over a significant part of his face. The stranger’s scarlet eyes twinkled under the lights of the market, taking on a more vibrant shade and his fare, porcelain skin appeared almost translucent.
“You’re a mathematician,right?”
Sherlock’s baritone cut through every other conversation around them, unceremoniously demanding this stranger’s attention like a rebellious teenager begging their parents to notice them.
The other man had to swallow a hard lump that had suddenly formed itself in his throat before letting his eyes wander down the detective’s attire,noting down the worn out leather jacket and then the slightly ripped black jeans as his gaze moved downward. After observing Sherlock’s disheveled shirt sticking out of his zipper hoodie, the man gazed into the ravenette’s sapphire eyes for a short instant. Soon enough the dark circles under the detective’s eyes had stolen his attention.
They had presumably appeared there from countless sleepless nights behind him, thought the blond.
“Excuse me?”
“Your attire,” Sherlock said confidently.
“You’re clearly an academic,however a student wouldn’t dress that way in the middle of exam season. You look extremely young,though I can't help but notice how you’ve got some red ink stains on the middle finger of your right hand. In addition to that you’ve also got subtle calluses on your fingers,which is a characteristic of jobs that require lots of writing,both chalk and pen. Given how you’ve also got some of the faintest chalk residue on your vest, I assume the ink landed there while correcting assignments or tests. There aren’t many professions that require both, so the decision was easy.”
“What could be your major though?,” Sherlock paused, “Mathematics. The way you observed the handle of the mug you’re holding? You weren’t perceiving it design or user experience wise, your attention was actually focused on the mathematical value of it. The way its curve aligns with the golden ratio, a testimony to the perfect proportions.”
Landing his eyes on the stranger,thus provoking further intrigue inside of the blond, it seemed like his gaze had found a way deep into his soul in an attempt to dissect him at the very moment. Digging deeper inside with the intention to find the true human nature hidden behind those composed eyes that managed to perfectly conceal any emotion behind them.
Nevertheless he could sense the gears turning inside of the blond’s head and eventually his interest growing. Though Sherlock’s thoughts were forced to undergo an abrupt stop when the stranger’s voice cut through the cocoon of silence that had settled around them despite it being the rush hour at a christmas market, as if the two of them were the only ones that mattered right now.
“Why, yes, I am indeed a mathematician. Though I have to admit how impressive your skills are,your logical reasoning stays flawed. You’re jumping to conclusions rather too quickly,” he commented.
The pair of scarlet eyes landed on the detective in turn as a gentle smile found its way onto his features. The sudden cockiness had silenced Sherlock for a second,letting the other extend the dramatic pause before going on with his answer.
“That aside, why don’t you let me return your favor by deducing some of the details about you?,” asked the mathematician. His voice raised the slightest bit, soaked with mischief and interest bubbling in his chest.
“You smoke like a chimney yet you’re convinced you could quit anytime. Judging by your build and the way you carry yourself, I’d say you’re mastered in martial arts. Additionally you play the violin,though I’d dare to make an assumption that you’re not a professional musician. Your know-it-all manner of speaking tells me how proud you are of your background,specifically your mother’s side. You clearly graduated from Oxbridge. And oh,” William leaned in to take a sniff at the man,glancing up at him with a playful smirk gracing his lips, “is that a hint of chemical dependency I sense?”
One of the black haired man’s eyebrows quivered at the scene unfolding in front of him. An excited smile didn’t keep one waiting before it found its way onto his lips. He leaned his elbow on the edge of the table they were standing by, relying the weight of his body on it in a fit of loud laughter.
“Oi, that was bloody brilliant! I wasn’t expecting that but you actually managed not to disappoint me,mate!” Sherlock told the other excitedly. The blond sent him a pleasant smile back before adding playfully.
“While I’m grateful for the compliment, I have to add something to my previous comment,” he paused, “Judging by your poor pressing skills,or rather the lack thereof, you’ve got an undisciplined nature. I might as well assume you’re a mama’s boy who can’t bear to live without her.”
“Hah! Then if we’re talking about our clothes,you are akin to a chicken hiding itself behind this shell of perfectly pressed tuxedos!,” Sherlock retorted.
A chicken? The mathematician has already heard it somewhere.
“Take that back,you moron!,” said he.
“You wish!”
Their blissful bickering had been interrupted by John’s figure suddenly emerging from the crowd with two mugs of wine in his hands.
“Sherlock, I’ve been looking for you everywhere! Glad I actually ended up seeing you here,” said he. “I take it you’ve found some company already?”
“It’s nothing, I was merely indulging myself in some idle deduction with this gentleman here,” answered Sherlock in a falsely innocent manner.
He shot the mathematician a playful grin before finally excusing himself to leave along with his best friend.
It took the blond some time to come back to his senses and finally let go of Sherlock’s vanishing silhouette. He shook his head slightly before he gazed down at the table where a rectangular piece of card paper,similar to a business card, had been left.
“Sherlock Holmes…” the mathematician read the name written on it, tasting it on his lips. His gaze landed on the people passing by, looking for at least a glimpse of that stranger. The name seemed to sound all too familiar to him, carrying an image of his old friend with itself. Though he eventually ended up brushing the matter off and shoving the card into one of his pockets to be forgotten for now.
── ✦ ──
Settled in the comfort of his bed, William’s eyes were fixed on the piece of card paper he'd been given a few days ago. On it was written the name of the man he couldn’t get out of his mind ever since running into him.
Sherlock Holmes, Baker Street 221B
+44 20 XXXX XXXX
“It can’t be,” he whispered to himself.
It must have been a coincidence,right? Holmes is a common English surname so maybe that man’s parents, who might have been big fans of the stories Dr. Watson wrote over a century ago, deemed it a perfect opportunity to name their child after a famous detective. It’s just destiny toying with William, picking at his freshly healed wounds in a heartless attempt to rip them open and remind him of his past sins.
The blond laid down on his back,staring at the ceiling as he carefully reconsidered all of the possibilities.
Sherlock Holmes was dead, his Sherly was dead. He was the very reason why he died back in 1879, so how could it be that there was another Sherlock resembling the previous one in almost everything he does? From his looks to his hobbies and the way he carries himself. Maybe William was seeing things,imagining something that wasn’t there just to fill the void that had settled in his chest and get over the loss of someone he loved.
He needed to talk to that man,imagine himself getting to know Sherlock all over again and comfort his heart that’s been longing for a dead man the past hundred and forty six years. He wished to give in and call him,tell him everything that’s been on his mind. To allow himself an attempt at love and scream his feelings at the top of his lungs. But how could a sinner,moreover a vampire who’s bloody by nature, like him be truly allowed to love someone? To experience that pure,innocent feeling of love where anything else could be forgotten and the only remaining thing to truly matter was the deep connection between yourself and your beloved? That was the question he’d been asking himself in the past years.
William was a man of science who’d followed every scientific discovery during his life, though one thing he hadn’t taken into consideration was that even someone like him would be able to turn to spiritualism during his most desperate times.
It didn’t make sense for him to believe that something like reincarnation could truly exist in their world,but it was the option he opted for in his search for refuge from his past self whose actions had carried his beloved into the grave. Although for everyone else he had already moved on, his sorrows only grew deeper in his heart.
Eventually he turned the lamp standing on his nightstand off and tried getting some sleep to shut his mind up. He has a long day with his brothers ahead of himself so he should at least try and rest, he thought. Yet soon enough his restless turning and shifting caused him to abandon that idea and get up from his bed.
The blond skillfully found his way through the dimly illuminated room and sat down at his desk. William opened his laptop,entered his password and opened the default browser before quickly typing the name that is oh-so-familiar yet foreign at the same time.
During his search he found that this Sherlock of today has a podcast together with his roommate,John, as well as an assistant named Mariana whom he seems to keep calling Mrs. Hudson ever so unceremoniously. The true crime podcast on their adventures doesn’t seem to be lacking in recognition, judging by the amount of monthly listeners they have on Spotify, which makes William question if maybe he could’ve learned about it sooner be it not for his reluctance at socialization in the past years.
The vampire takes his time to briefly listen to some of the episodes, noting how this Sherlock seems to have a tendency to rumble about various cases that took place decades ago and compare them to the ones of today. He remembers reading about a similar habit his Sherly had in one of the books published by Dr. Watson.
The captivating storytelling accompanied by Sherlock’s voice dragged William deeper into the rabbit hole, only digging more of the information up. He desired to remember every subtle detail about him, even the facts that would be brushed off as irrelevant by anyone else. From his preferred pasta shape to the way he drank his coffee. A subconscious desire in his heart to make the best use out of this opportunity of learning this Sherlock.
It was definitely different from the one he’d known,but along with the deductions it narrated, it felt as though he went back in time and listened to his detective’s deductions over lunch as if it were the most mundane thing in the world.
── ✦ ──
Days passing by soon turned into weeks. William still couldn’t get that man out of his head. He even followed him on social media and various news sources that kept his audience updated on his escapades. He kept telling himself it didn’t mean much,that he only followed him to observe him and see how things would turn out. He told himself he didn’t have any intention to act on his feelings and that everything was alright.
One night he made his way downstairs to unwind from his persistent thoughts about the other man. They've been getting in the way of his ability to sleep more than usual as of late, which has only worsened the weakened state caused by his abstinence from human blood.
Renouncing something as essential to his organism as blood, accompanied by the lack of sleep caused him to get nosebleeds or even faint when exposed to the sun for too long, thus making his work as a professor even harder.
To calm his restless mind William was planning to make himself some tea and read a book, though he ended up running into his elder brother in the living room. The man had settled himself on the couch comfortably and now seemed to be busy watching some movie. On the coffee table in front of him stood a wine glass filled with something red, probably wine as the name suggests.
William walked up to his brother and asked him curiously, “How come you’re still here so late at night? I thought you’d be asleep by now.”
The brunette raised his gaze to look at him, a subtle smile finding its way onto his features.
“Ah,Will. I just happened to have acquired some donated blood that isn’t suitable for medical procedures anymore and thought, why not watch a movie to go with it?,” he answered. “I know you don’t usually drink human blood, but maybe you would like some since it’s been donated?”
The other stood still, reconsidering his options for a few moments. He has already been in a rather incapacitated state for the past few weeks, moreover the blood wasn’t collected in a bloody nature. So he thought he might as well kill two birds with one stone by spending some time with his brother and getting the nutrients his body needed.
“I guess I can’t pass up on an opportunity like this, now can I?,” William spoke softly, letting himself sink down into the cushions.
The two of them exchanged a short smile with each other before Albert poured the other man some of the red liquid from the decanter that had been standing on the table surface right near the brunette’s glass.
The younger man curled his fingers around the stem to raise the glass up to his lips. His gaze wandered to the movie playing on the screen in front of them as he took a sip, causing the corners of his lips to lift up.
“Pride and Prejudice, I see,” he said fondly.
“Mhm, the story never gets old, doesn’t it?” Albert answered, mirroring his brother's fond tone of voice.
“It never does indeed,” William commented.
Letting the atmosphere of the movie sink in, his mind wandered back to Sherlock. He couldn’t help but feel somewhat jealous of the other Moriarty. Albert had Mycroft, whom he’d turned into a vampire back in the 1800s. He had the person he loved and was mutually loved back just as much.
Despite his jealousy William was of course happy for his brother. Though this didn’t ensure he wouldn’t sometimes fall back down the spiral of his feelings for Mycroft’s younger brother, where the looming sorrow lay hidden in the depths of his heart, only ever crawling out to torment William.
Now that he’d found someone who could possibly either bring his happiness back or lead him to having his very soul stabbed once again, what could he do?
William shook his head briefly in an attempt to brush the thoughts away and glanced over at his brother.
“I know this might seem completely irrelevant right now, but do you believe in reincarnation?”
The brunette returned his gaze with a curious look in his eyes. “I am not sure. Why’d you ask?”
“I don’t know…” William took a sip of the blood in his glass before continuing his answer, “It’s just something I’ve been thinking about recently. But really, you know how you’ve got Mycroft and all. Just what would you do if he hadn’t been turned into a vampire and you’d have met someone just like him after his passing? Would you believe he’s reincarnated?”
Albert’s brows furrowed slightly, followed by the expression of his face darkening. He set his own glass down on the coffee table and sighed.
“I guess one would be naturally drawn to believe in this as their last resort,” he muttered before adding in a gentler tone of voice, “Why, have you been thinking about Sherlock again?”
William had to hold the gasp threatening to leave his throat at such an accusation. He knew he’d been walking on thin ice by asking Albert something so painfully obvious, though he didn’t expect to be addressed so directly.
“Brother, it’s fine. Though I have to admit that my feelings for him have been a recurring issue since his death, this question wasn’t about him. I was just pondering on the concept of reincarnation as a whole,” he reassured then. The distrust in the brunette’s eyes was apparent to anyone with eyes to see. Even the slightest undertone of suspicion in his following answer was obvious.
“I see… So this was just an example of something that could’ve happened but didn’t?”
“Indeed,” William answered.
Shit, he thought, unable to hold himself back from swearing at his unsuccessful attempt of lying straight to his brother’s face.
── ✦ ──
Despite William’s best efforts to forget or distract himself, at the end of the day he would almost always find himself staring at the visit card, contemplating whether to phone the man or not.
After having revisited the memory of their only dialogue so far, he couldn’t tell anymore what had actually been said back then and what was but a mere fruit of his imagination.
Sitting on the edge of his mattress and holding the piece of card paper he found himself reaching for his phone. He carefully typed the number in, staring at the screen for a few moments after he’d finished. Hesitating.
He could call him right now and reexperience what he’d been longing for ever since their meeting, or could mess everything up by accident on account of his nervousness. His thumb hovered about the call button on his screen as he made sure the number he’d entered was correct.
Once the call had been requested William turned the loudspeaker and held his phone in front of himself,patiently listening to the systematic ringing. He didn’t wait long before a deep baritone came in from the other end.
“Hello?”
William’s breath caught in his throat at the sudden sound. He was unable to answer for a moment,causing the person on the other end to become impatient.
“If you’re gonna stay silent the whole time I'm hanging up,” he grumbled.
“It’s me,the mathematician from the christmas market,” William answered.
A short pause overtook the conversation before an excited sound escaped the detective’s lips.
“Really?! You should’ve called me earlier,I was starting to think you might’ve forgotten ‘bout me,” the man’s voice brightened immediately. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you so much,why only call me now?”
Taken aback for a second William stopped to come up with an answer, “I didn’t have enough time to,I’m sorry.” He couldn’t resist the gentle smile etching onto his features at hearing such excitement coming from the other one. His mind inevitably wandered back to the man he’d known before and the way he’d get excited whenever they met.
“No,it’s alright. I was just curious. Anyways, I was actually pondering on a case I’ve gotten not too long ago and would love to hear your mind on it,” Sherlock’s voice softened. He went on to tell William about his case in detail as the mathematician hummed in agreement to his deductions here and there,occasionally asking him about the details to display his interest in the matter.
Although William had already read everything he could find about the case in question online,moreover he’d even listened to the newest podcast episode about it, he indulged in Sherlock’s enthusiasm and pretended to hear everything for the first time.
Their discussion topic soon flowed into another completely different one. Time went by, unnoticed in the midst of intellectual exchange between the two men. William found himself laughing at the occasional jokes Sherlock would throw in,something he had thought he would never do again. It has truly been a while since he could have a conversation with someone like that. WIth only the mutual understanding and no social obligations between them. A feeling of fulfillment soon settled in his chest, making up for all of the occasions he'd spent longing for Sherlock by himself.
At some point the blond found himself laying down in his bed as he listened to the other man’s mellow tone with his eyes closed to focus on his words as best as he could. “I never thought I’d find a conversation partner like you, Sherlock,” William spoke all of a sudden.
“The feeling is mutual, I’d never thought I’d be able to find someone who could understand me the way you do. It feels like I've finally found a friend I didn't know I lost. You always know exactly what I’m talking about, as though you can read my mind,” Sherlock answered before adding in a gentler voice. “Yet I’ve come to realize you’ve never told me your name. Care to share?” he teased.
“It’s William. William James Moriarty,”
“William,” The other man hummed to himself. “It does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Alright,it was nice talking to you, Liam. I wouldn’t want to keep you up too late at night, considering how you’ve got work tomorrow though.”
A gentle smile crossed the vampire’s features, baring his fangs to the chilly air of his room. “Yes, I agree. I feel like conversing with you was exactly what I needed right now,” he answered, “Goodnight, Mr. Holmes.”
A quiet laugh could be heard on the other end before William hung up. His phone instantly landed on the mattress beside him as he stared at the ceiling.
“Goodnight,Sherly…” whispered the vampire under his breath.