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William had been acting oddly for the past few weeks, Louis had noticed.
He would spot his brother smiling to himself for no reason at all, the strangeness of it only exacerbated by William grinning in the most peculiar locations - whether he was at his desk or in the carriage with Louis.
When the reason for his mirth was inquired (interrogated) about however, he would simply shake his head, or say that it was a lovely day, and that he was just happy that they were finally in a 'period of good weather'.
William had said that he was happy that they were in a period of good weather six times now, in the span of three and a half days.
If the weather operated according to what Louis' brother said, Britain would never receive any rain whatsoever and it would be pleasantly springlike year round.
No, Louis didn't believe for a single moment that William's newfound enjoyment of the world around him was caused by the good weather.
Louis smelled a rat, as the children from the orphanage would have put it. A big fat rat.
Despite what some of the other members of the house thought, Louis was far more observant than what many believed, despite the fact that he often wasn't involved with their operations. So he watched. And he investigated. And he learned.
He was able to corroborate through highly reliable sources (Fred - who was extremely reliable on the topic, and Moran - slightly less reliable on such matters) that William's good mood had started after Sherlock Holmes had passed the tests that William set up for him to test whether or not he'd be fit to pursue the Lord of Crime.
Even from this small tidbit of information, Louis began to form a couple of ideas - hypotheses, as William would have described them.
But as all good scientific theories require, he needed evidence. So one (actually) warm spring day, Louis conveniently borrowed William's favourite marking pen before the man left for work. He knew that his brother was awfully fond of it for grading his student's papers, and he knew that if William realised that he'd left it at home, he'd immediately send word for it to be brought to Durham University, which was about a twenty minute walk from the manor.
And who better to bring it to him than his brother, who presided over the manor?
— — — — — — —
Louis meandered through the campus, ears flapping as he went. There were the usual whispers of course associated with his presence - "Is that Professor Moriarty's brother? He's so mysterious looking!" "What's his name again?" "Lucas, I think? No, Louis. I remember the professor mentioning it."
While Louis was flattered that William talked about him, surface level discussion was not what he was searching for today.
It was as he got closer to the building where the maths faculty resided that the information he needed to confirm his theory was heard.
"Professor Moriarty's been rather distracted recently, hasn't he?" "Do you think it has something to do with that dark haired man that's been visiting him?"
Oh.
Now.
That was interesting.
"The one who barged into class? The one who bombed the maths test?" "Yes, that one. The one who Professor Moriarty had tack up his paper outside and then labelled it as 'what not to do in a test'!"
Sherlock had been here? Visiting William?
A small smile spread across his face at the latter piece of information heard though. He'd have to inquire more about that at a later date.
Louis heard similar tidbits of gossip - research, he told himself - as he walked along the hallways to William's office, becoming more and more certain in his notion that something was afoot.
When he got to William's office, Louis took a deep breath, set his shoulders, and knocked twice. "Liam? It's Louis. I have your pens. That you requested. Might I come in?"
There was silence from inside the office, interrupted only by a thud.
Louis' brow furrowed, worry (somewhat) overtaking his desire to investigate, suspicion waning. "Liam? Are you okay?"
There was nothing from behind the office door for a long moment. Louis raised his hand to rap at the door more aggressively only for it to abruptly swing open.
William stood beyond the threshold, face lightly flushed, vest ever so slightly rumpled. The two stared at each other for a long moment.
"Why are you sweating?" Louis asked, folding his arms, his worry flitting out of mind.
William smiled (a little sheepishly, Louis thought) and leant up against the door frame, casualness clearly feigned. "Oh, you know. The usual. Chasing down students left right and center for their papers and talking to them to make sure that they're on task for their theses."
"Right. And you are out of breath because…?" "It's a warm day today, Louis. The sun's well and truly out."
Louis stared at him, the references to the weather now reaching seven. William stared back. Neither of them said anything. After a moment, William coughed. "Ah, my pens, perhaps, Louis?" "In a moment, Liam."
The two of them continued to stare at each other.
"Your top button is undone." Louis said, tilting his head slightly to the side. "And your tie is askew." William looked down for a moment, and in that brief lapse in concentration Louis pushed past him and into William's office.
"Wait - Louis!"
Louis slowly, precisely, laid down William's pens on his desk, taking the time to look around the office. From everything he saw of the desk, it seemed to be a tad messier than usual, but nothing particularly out of the ordinary.
There was a rustle of fabric behind him however was, and he turned around just in time to see a black ponytail and a blue pant leg flying around the corner.
"What the-" Louis surged forward to leave William's office and see who was running off, but his brother blocked him quickly, moving in front of him.. He was able to crane his neck enough though around the doorframe (despite William's repeated attempts to prevent him to do so) as he tried to see a little more of the fleeing figure's body - a semi fitting blue jacket was all he could see as the figure rounded a second corner, fleeing from the scene.
Louis stepped back from the doorway, confusion colouring his face…before it slowly turned into shock, horror, and mild revulsion.
He looked at his brother for a very long moment, before hissing at his brother. "Holmes? Sherlock Holmes? The-the detective? The man who-" he dropped his voice furtively, looking around the office like there was someone in the walls. "-the man who you are actively working against as the Lord of Crime?"
William said nothing before smirking slightly, and after a moment it grew into a full on grin. Louis scowled. "What's so funny?" William shut the door and leaned against it, looking at his brother. "I thought you'd be more concerned about my being involved with a man."
Louis waved him off, rolling his eyes. "I couldn't care less that you're involved with a man. I care that it's Sherlock Holmes!"
William shook his head and laughed. "Well, at least you're accepting." "Of course I'm accepting, Liam! I'm just not accepting of-that-man! You should have standards, for god's sake!"
— — — — — — —
Sherlock staggered through the door at a shockingly reasonable time - normally, Miss Hudson saw him coming through the door very late in the evening, or sometimes not at all - the man usually stayed out overnight when he was involved in the case.
She called out to him from the kitchen as he came in. "Nice to see you here at a regular time, Sherlock. Is it peculiar for you to be back before the sun has gone down?" she asked a tad sarcastically.
The man huffed as he wiped his boots off at the door before venturing further into the house. "I was able to get back from an…interview more quickly than I thought. The subject was rather…agreeable in answering my questions. It was a fruitful discussion."
Miss Hudson hummed, finishing up in the kitchen and coming out to talk to him properly. Sherlock was halfway up the stairs when she saw him, scurrying upstairs.
Miss Hudson sighed.
"Sherlock, I know I don't normally do this, but I've just put a pie out to cool. If you want I could cut you a slice if you wanted to stay down here?"
The man coughed and shook his head, frozen in place, not turning around. "No, uh, thank you Miss Hudson. I already had…something to eat after the interview." Miss Hudson hummed disapprovingly, shaking her head. "I'm sure whatever you had is not enough for all of that running around you do. Come downstairs and you'll have something proper."
Sherlock responded in a low mumble, scratching the back of his head as he did. "Speak up, Sherlock. I can't hear you when you're mumbling like that. And turn around to face me as well. You may have lost any manners that you were taught as a child, but you should really turn around to face a lady when you're speaking to her-Dear God!"
Even under the late afternoon light, she was able to see the state of Sherlock's neck, which was littered in love bites. They started at the top of his neck, and worked their way down to past where his shirt started.
Miss Hudson stared at this open mouthed. She tried to form some words at this sight, but none came to her mind, apart from "Was it a bear trying to maul you? A vulture trying to peck at you? An elephant who thought you were water and tried to drink you? What happened, man?"
Sherlock shuffled in place, burying his hands in his pockets and looking anywhere but the landlady. "I was…visiting a friend." Miss Hudson snorted. "A friend? Friends don't turn each other's necks unnatural hues, Sherlock."
The man sighed and reluctantly made eye contact with her. "I was visiting…more than a friend. Who was helping me on a case. I needed to go and bounce some ideas about a case." Miss Hudson hummed. "So it really was an interview than, I suppose."
Sherlock stepped down the stairs into the light more. He reached into his pocket and extracted a small notebook, flipping through it quickly, nodding, before shutting it and putting it away again. At Miss Hudson's raised eyebrow he responded with "Just checking that I…got all the facts down. Before we started talking about other matters. It was all a bit of a blur."
Miss Hudson hummed again. Sherlock turned and began to head back up the stairs again. "That pie sounds lovely, by the way. I'll be down shortly to try some."
As Sherlock headed up the stairs however, Miss Hudson called out one last thing to him. "Bring down that jacket later and wash it, for goodness sake. Otherwise the smell of his cologne is going to sit and get embedded into it."
Sherlock froze slightly, partially turning to jerkily nod, coughing out in a slightly choked out voice "alright" and then dashing up the stairs. Miss Hudson watched him with her hands on her hips, tutting slightly with a smile on her face.
Men and their involvements.