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Louis James Moriarty did not like Sherlock Holmes.
The man got on his nerves, even when he wasn't trying to do so. He couldn't tolerate the detectives presense back when the Moriarty Plan was still going on and he couldn't tolerate him now. If it was up to him, if William didn't take an infuriating interest in him, the bloody guy would be long gone and resting six feet under the soil with worms to accompany him.
Don't get him wrong, he didn't hate him, Lord no. He would rather chop his own head off than admit it, but he was glad he didn't kill him when he had stronger urges to do so. The man did save his beloved brother from a terrible fate by jumping off a bridge after him, after all.
Still.
Did he need to act so.... personal with William?
Sure, he couldn't match his brothers intelligence but he wasn't stupid. He saw how the detective, sitting 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 next to him 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘥𝘢𝘮𝘯 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵, very obviously cared for William. He saw how genuine his words were when he told everyone about their adventures in The States. He saw how high he held his brothers opinions back on that train William insisted on taking. But surely, that was not enough reason for Holmes to act so touchy-feely with him, not in his eyes.
From their very few encounters in the past and stories told by Bond after he joined them, he had concluded that the man did not appreciate physical contact. Bond had told them how Sherlock went completely stiff and rigid when he, formerly as Irene, or anyone for that matter touched him even in the slightest. While he could, much to his dismay, understand the detective in that regard, he still couldn't understand why the said touch-repulsed man always seemed to be touching his brother in some way. He failed to comprehend why would Sherlock Doesn't Like Physical Touch Holmes' hand linger over William's for a few seconds longer than necessary. He couldn't wrap his mind around as to why the damn man seemed persistent on sneaking his arm around his brothers waist when he thought no one else was looking (or just didn't give a damn if anyone saw. And considering the way he was, Louis was unfortunately sure it was the latter.)
"You know Sherlock's a good man, right?"
Bond's voice pierced through his thoughts, holding the stacked up plates in his arms, looking at Louis with a knowing gaze. They were tidying up the place after their guests from 221B left and Bond had seemingly noticed how he had a distasteful look in his face. The ruby eyes zeroed on the shorter man as his brows furrowed.
"I am aware of that." He said matter-of-factly, "I never claimed the opposite."
The blue eyed man laughed, placing the plates on the table before leaning on it and crossing his arms across his chest. "Then why do you act like he has committed the most atrocious crime whenever he is near Will?"
Louis tilted his head, trying to understand where this conversation was going, as Bond stared at him with a teasing smile plastered on his face. He sighed, closing his eyes for a second before replying.
"He acts too friendly with him. Rather chummy."
Bond's eyes widened at that, staring at him with disbelief before bursting out laughing. Louis' head snapped to the other mans direction, who now held a hand against his stomach, watching as he tried to figure out what exactly was funny in the situation.
"Sorry, I'm sorry." the shorter man said behind his giggles, which were finally dying down, gripping the table before looking at Louis with much more seriousness than before. Thank whoever was above.
"I understand how you feel about Will, I know you've always been protective of him." Bond quipped, "But isn't it normal for them? I mean, to act affectionate?"
A wave of disbelief washed over Louis' face, shoulders shrugging as he thought about it. Sure, it wasn't like it was unorthodox for friends to show signs of trust by initiating physical contact, he has seen it first hand with how Moran sometimes slapped a hand on their backs or threw his whole arm around their necks. He had received a lot of affirming squeezes on his shoulders by the said older man himself. However, it did not feel the same with Holmes and William. It was different, somehow.
He shook his head, failing to make sense of it all. He glanced at Bond, who was looking at him as if he had grown an extra head. He picked up the plates, sighing as he started to make his way towards the door.
"You're one of the smartest people I have known, Louis. I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet." said the man, an amused look on his face as he left Louis in the dining room by himself. A pout made its way to his lips, confused by the others words. Figure out what? The reason why his brother had that ineffable but clearly adoring light in his eyes when he looked at the detective? The reason why the said detective clearly favored William's touch while he seemed to despise anyone elses? The reason why he was so adamantly persistent on invading William's personal space and why, for goodness sake, William allowed it in the first place?
Damn it all, he felt like the untrusting little child who did not like their siblings love interest in those romance novels.
'𝘞𝘢𝘪𝘵', his eyes widened at the realization, his mind short circuiting as he connected the dots, '𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘺.'
There was no way on earth his brother was pursuing a romantic relationship with Sherlock Holmes, of all people. Sherlock Holmes, who was so opposite of his brother that they even walked differently. Sherlock Holmes, who did not care about social cues and did whatever his annoying will wanted to do. Sherlock Holmes, who did not give a single damn about how harsh he was when he was spouting whatever deduction he had. Sherlock Holmes, who also was the first and only ever person that matched his brothers incredible mind. Sherlock Holmes, who threw everything away and jumped off a bridge for his brother. Sherlock Holmes, who had changed drastically to atone with William and protect the fragile but already better world his brother carefully built.
Huh. It all made sense now. The genuine rush in William's eyes when the detective accused him of being the mastermind, the longing gazes they gave eachother when they were parted in the train, the soft smile and obvious admiration his brother always had when he talked about Holmes, the attention Holmes always gave his brother, the not-so-subtle blush on his brothers cheeks when he came back home after Holmes had visited him at the university, the lingering touches that exceeded the line of platonic affection.
So, Holmes was acting "too friendly" with his brother after all.