Constellations Strung With a Shooting Star | Sherliam

Chapter Eleven

Sherlock wouldn't exactly describe himself as nervous, but he can't quite find an accurate way to explain what has undeniably been nerves.

He feels a bit more relieved as he's sitting in William's living room completely alone, while the other is preparing what he promised. And Holmes isn't an idiot; of course he was able to read how that request was blurted out. In fact, he took mental note of multiple instances where the blond seemed visibly bothered. Though he has been rather good at covering it up, he'll give him that.

It is discouraging and falters a tad of Sherlock's resolve. It makes him wonder if William is even enjoying this visit, though if that was the case then surely he would have spoken up about it. So for now, the detective can merely try his best to convey why he wants to have the chance to talk to Liam longer; not to talk to the Lord of Crime, nor to even learn a thing from his lessons.

It was never about that, and he dearly hopes that he didn't give William that impression. He tried to clarify that earlier, but was cut off when the other noticed the perfectly marked exam.

Admittedly, it stung when William assumed that he wished to talk about the Lord of Crime. While it was one of the many things that Holmes wished to discuss with him — his remarks and understanding are most favorable regarding the criminal — that wasn't the first thing he had in mind. He wanted to take considerable time thoroughly getting to know the blond, past what he already deducted and learned.

Asking about his profession earlier may have been a bit of the wrong step, although it was endearing to hear Moriarty express affection for his students like he did. It unmistakingly comes off as him putting them above all else; he doesn't care about the pay, the recognition for his genius, or any of the praise it sparks.

To a certain degree, that does tell Sherlock more about him, though he wanted to step past William being a professor too. In public files and records that Holmes just so happened to read about the Moriarty family, he read about the unfortunate disaster where the original manor burnt down. It killed their parents and one of the adopted children that they took in, leaving only three remaining children; Albert and William being the blood related two while Louis was the adopted one.

And the detective personally always found it strange since hearing about those events. He might not go as far as to say that those public records are false, but William and Louis seem to have more likeness. Sherlock has not met the youngest brother in person, but the photographs of the man look akin to Liam. Their eyes seem to be the same shade, and they're both blond. Albert is a brunet, so he's the one that stands out.

But he also found information regarding their parents, where he read that the father was found with multiple mistresses up until his death. William may have been the outcome of one of those affairs, and he ended up looking coincidentally similar to who they later adopted. After all, neither of their parents were blond.

All in all, the family and William himself are delightfully clouded in mystery, so it easily gathers his interest. And even besides that, it's nice to hear William talk about himself instead of simply just listening to what Holmes had to say.

Sherlock sucks in a breath and snaps his head around as he hears a door open; the same door William went through previously. The smell of tea and baking biscuits waft through the opening, sweetly spreading through the living room as well. The pleasant smell also comes with an equally pleasant William, who smiles gently and apologetically to the other man.

But something is off.

While it's only slight, Sherlock notices how his back is hunched; as if he just got back from carrying a rock on it. And while the expression he's wearing is generous, a twinge of pain can be seen in that expression too.