Partners In Crime

Chapter 3

𝙸𝙽𝙸𝚃𝙸𝙰𝙻 𝙸𝙼𝙿𝚁𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙾𝙽𝚂 𝚃𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚃𝙾 𝙲𝙰𝚄𝚂𝙴 𝙰𝙽 𝚄𝙽𝙿𝚁𝙴𝙳𝙸𝙲𝚃𝙰𝙱𝙻𝙴 𝚂𝚃𝙾𝚁𝙼.

Has been one of the most memorable lessons my father had taught me. Predominantly due to the accuracy of such a brief sentence. The simplicity of it was amusing too; my father, a man of enigma, fancied puzzling methods of sharing his wisdom with me and my sisters. However, he merely sat us down in that particular lesson and voiced those 8 words. 

He claimed it was his elderly experience that developed such a motto, but my own judgment led me to believe it was nothing other than his exceptional ability to see through persons.

Even so, as I sat in the lecture room, examining the new target of my self-trial, I felt the urgency to apologize to the patriarch for approaching his words with a hint of doubt. Or rather, inquisitiveness. Having finished my assigned work sooner than the rest of my peers, I rested my chin against the palm of my hand, lightly nibbling on the nail of my pinky finger as my eyes fixed on the man seated at the center of the study. 

The serenity of the room hugged my body in the most comforting of ways, reciprocating my love for it, and Professor Moriarty was visibly appreciative of its presence to a parallel extent. Consumed by a pile of paperwork, daring to tumble down if the podium had just an additional centimeter of slant, the only interruption he permitted was his longing for a sip of tea. An hour hadn't passed before the mountain of paper transformed into a singular, measly sheet, awaiting its turn.

Even less time had gotten by before the end of the lecture. As the golden orb of the sun began its leisurely descent towards the horizon, its once radiant beams softened into a warm, amber hue that bathed the classroom in a gentle, fading light. Shadows lengthened across the walls, casting elongated shapes that danced playfully with the diminishing sunlight. Hidden within the domain of the shadows, William stood as though cast in stone, his hands held each other behind his back while his eyes jumped from one student to the other, following their statue as they exited through the door. Every so often, uttering praises or constructive criticisms, depending on the student. 

Suddenly, before Ellie and I were a step away from the exit point, his resonant rumble akin to the distant thunder of a voice abruptly intervened with our intentions. Its rich, velvety depths that seemed to caress each syllable, left an indelible impression of authority and gravitas, nearly lifting the baby hairs on the back of my head as goosebumps ran a marathon through my entire body.

"Lady L/N, may I borrow you for a brief moment?" He said more so than he requested. 

I turned my head in his direction, my eyebrows furrowing albeit not enough to perceive so as to not emit an impression of ill manners. I shot a glance at Ellie who silently mouthed her plans to wait for me on the opposite end of the door, after which I voiced, "Certainly."

A room, merely a handful of minutes ago so clamorous with the collaboration noise of academic tools, had turned unusually eerie. The shadows seemed to dominate the room further, darkening the atmosphere, revealing themselves victorious in their battle with the sun's rays. 

"May I request you to draw nearer?" Politely he asked, undoubtedly a technique he adopted from the Moriarty family's renowned social etiquette, securing a substantial amount of admiration as a result. 

I simply nodded while approaching his platform. While doing so, the man began ravaging through the previous mountain of documents, his fingers masterfully listing through the pages, appearing almost too fast for his eyes to manage in verifying the words before the new set, until he found the one he had been searching for; my study work.