the date in Durham goes just slightly differently
William James Moriarty was an incredibly knowledgeable young man.
He took pride in that fact, as it was their sharpest weapon, the tool that has helped them get this far. Of course, all three Moriarty brothers had their wits, and they knew how to use their charms just as well, use it to earn the trust of some truly unfortunate and unsuspecting fellows.
Their desire to correct this godforsaken country outweighs everything else. However, that doesn't mean they can't enjoy certain things from time to time.
For William, it brought great pleasure to get immersed in the diverse world of numbers, equations and formulas. He wished to share his knowledge and passion with those interested, hence his decision to become a professor at the University of Durham.
Sometimes, if you paid close attention, you could spot a small, soft smile playing on his lips as he strolled through the campus, occasionally checking in on his students. He enjoyed the lively atmosphere, liked seeing all the youthful souls not yet corrupted by the rotten society they live in. No.
He wouldn't let them become corrupted.
He swore to save those crushed under the filthy shoes of the nobility, to bring an end to the never-ending discrimination he has witnessed and felt upon his own skin oh so many times.
It was his duty as the Lord of Crime.
On this particular day, he wasn't present in the class. His students were currently taking an exam in mathematics, supervised by a different professor while he busied himself with correcting a stack of already filled-out papers. When the time was almost up, he stood from his desk to saunter down the hallways and see how they were progressing.
'I wonder if I might have made the last problem a bit too difficult...'
The supervisor, who was not doing a great job with the task assigned to him, awoke from his peaceful slumber as the sound of approaching footsteps could be heard from the corridor. The door creaked open, revealing none other than William.
Sighs of relief filled the room. Finally, the test was over.
Before leaving a few of the pupils voiced their concerns regarding the final problem – that there was no way anyone could've solved it – then they all filed out the door, leaving their professor alone, who started organizing the papers into a neat folder.
William's days weren't boring. There was always work to deal with, schemes to be planned out to the very last detail, darkness to get rid of.
That, however, did not guarantee that his thoughts wouldn't go wandering, that the walls of the iron cage he constructed with the utmost care to lock his desires in wouldn't crack eventually. Once in while his true feelings would slip right through those tiny cracks and they would torture him mercilessly.
He did not have doubts. He was hell-bent to achieve his goal he has been working towards since forever.
Still, every now and then 'what ifs' would plague his mind, and just for a few painful moments, he would indulge in them.
'What if I wasn't the Lord of Crime...
What if I could live as just-'
"Liam!"
A familiar voice grabbed him and forcefully dragged him back into reality.
Even if he knew very well to whom this voice belonged, for a second he was caught off guard, his brain unable to connect sound to image. Therefore, he turned around and was greeted by the sight of the Great Detective, Sherlock Holmes himself descending the aisles. And that split second was enough for Sherlock to take notice of these hairline cracks, to wedge something in there, and try to pry them open.
