Constellations Strung With a Shooting Star | Sherliam

Chapter Ten

[classes started for me yesterday, so there's a chance that chapters will be delayed sometimes. ty for the support <3]

Although the Ripper case turned out to be more complicated than Sherlock ever thought it would, it finally came to a close. The case was bloody inconvenient, and ended up having clear involvement with the Lord of Crime after all. But these days, that's to be expected, he supposes. Not that it makes it any less frustrating; it's become violently apparent that there has yet to be a moment where Sherlock is ahead of the crime lord. Everything is planned by him in ways that the detective can't even begin to predict

Despite his resentment, there is at least one thing he can be happy about now that it's resolved. He can finally take a moment to visit William, who he increasingly has desired to ramble about the Lord of Crime to. Whether Moriarty is the said criminal or not, he at least can keep pace. It makes Holmes feel as though he's thoroughly being listened to, more so than when he vents to John or anyone else.

Or perhaps that's just the attraction talking. Either way, the only thing that he wants to do now is pay William a visit.

It's a weekday and a bit early in the morning, so Sherlock knows that the professor should be at the university, teaching a class. And sneaking into his classroom sounds like a wonderfully entertaining jest, so why not?

He doesn't think he'll need to bring anything, so as soon as he's dressed himself for the day and believes he's prepared, he leaves his room. As he exits his room with a yawn, he shuts the door behind him and looks ahead to find John sitting on the sofa and reading a book of some sort. A smile cracks to Sherlock's lips, although his eyes narrow as he further inspects the doctor. He notices that he has a sleeve rolled up, for whatever reason.

"Sherlock?" Watson turns his head with a startled tone, as if he was just caught doing something scandalous. His eyes flicker from his rolled up sleeve to the detective, quickly searching for something to say. "Good morning...? You're out of your room a bit late, I thought you were sleeping in. I assumed it was because of the case."

Holmes snorts, a hand settling on his hip. "Ha! Please, no case is gonna make me that tired. Do you even know me?" He teases, earning a roll of the eyes from his partner with a faint smile.

"Anyway, what'cha doin'? Never seen you roll yer sleeve up like that," he continues, eyes darting back to that arm. He then clicks his tongue as he instantly recognizes it as the arm with an obvious soulmate mark on it, rolled up exactly to where he could see the whole thing. He smirks, but he awaits a reply first.

"This? Ah," John scrambles, hand twitching to straighten it, but he ultimately decides against it. After a brief pause, he sighs, closing his eyes. "It's just... I don't know, my mind has been troubled with this rather recently." He gestures to the very mark Holmes was already eyeing, confirming his suspicions.

"And what exactly about it has been bothering you?" Sherlock asks, and he immediately wants to slap himself in the face for sounding like a therapist.

The other man gazes at the spot on his skin, biting his lip as he responds. "I've been wondering if you were right about it. So I wanted to research it and see what I find; you said you did plenty of research, so I figured I should do the same." His gaze then awkwardly shifts to his lap, as he chuckles nervously. "And I was wondering if I should start searching, if I could figure it out. Should I?"

For whatever reason, that's a far more difficult question to answer than Sherlock initially thought. But when he opens his mouth to answer, he holds himself back and has to consider. Even though it's obvious that he should, if that really makes his partner happy.