Chapter Text
The study is silent. Books of all kinds sit stacked in their place collecting dust to be later cleaned by Louis. A small desk clock ticks back and forth, marking the passage of time as the silence grows louder and longer.
William sits on the couch, his legs crossed and his hands occupied with an unfinished cup of tea. He sips on it slowly, making sure to savour every spice and flavour. His eyes are trained on his brothers across the room who glare daggers at him.
They really are being quite dramatic this time around.
William never breaks eye contact as he finishes the rest of his tea over the next few minutes. To his amusement, neither Louis nor Albert move the entire time.
Finishing his tea, William sighs and sets down the cup and saucer onto the table in front of him. He adjusts his position to be leaning towards them. Although he’s sitting while they continue to stand, he definitely commands the most authority in the room.
“If you two have something to say, please go ahead,” he poses, deadpanned.
Louis’ face turns a slight shade of red, “Don’t pretend you don’t know what this is about!”
William glares right back at them. He doesn’t answer.
Louis takes a step forward but Albert puts an arm in front of him. “Louis,” says Albert, “How about you make some more tea?”
A look of offence flashes across Louis’ face as he turns to his other brother. In a lower voice, Albert calmly relays, “Let me handle this please.” With the eye uncovered by his hair, Louis stares another moment at him before turning to William.
With the professionalism of a butler, the youngest Moriarty takes William’s cup and places it on the tray he used to bring the tea into the room originally. He then exits with the tray and an elegance unmatched by most.
Albert watches the door close behind Louis before turning back to the other blonde. The eldest runs a hand through his hair and takes a seat across from William.
“Look, Will, you know our opinions on the matter. It’s not safe. You shouldn’t go alone. And you are adamant about not sharing why it must be done this way. Give us something.”
William stares at his brother for a moment, contemplating. Then he leans back, assuming a relaxed posture with an arm against the back of the couch. He smirks slightly. “I appreciate the concern and I know I’m going due to some suspicions, but Albert, it’s just a party.”
“If you’re right about this Culverton Smith character, and you’re always right, then he’s been practising for years the perfect way to kill a man and make it look like an accident. Louis and I can’t let you go face him alone in good conscience.”
William turns his gaze away from Albert and towards the open window with daylight spilling through. He takes a deep breath before addressing Albert, yet not facing away from the outside. “And how do you think he’s perfected this skill?”
“What are you trying to say?” asks Albert.
Never looking at his brother, William continues with his own train of thought, “Four years ago, a young woman named Penelope Brown was desperate for medical attention. She was experiencing nausea and frequent vomiting. Poor girl didn’t know she was just pregnant, but she was only 16 and had no friends or family. Needless to say, she was very scared. However, she was at the bottom of society, working at a brothel because it was all she felt she could do to earn a living. Because of her occupation, no doctor would see her. They all turned their backs on her because, in their eyes, she wasn’t worth the dignity of being seen as a human being.
“Well she finally came across the person of interest, one Mr. Culverton Smith, and was delighted when he said he’d take her case. He’s not even a doctor, but he assured her of his expertise in ‘bacteriology.’ All that means is that he’s a high-end experimental drug cook. For weeks, he had her come into these sessions where he’d administer a new mystery cocktail. He was trying to test for the different effects of drugs on the human body for everything from sleep-induction to memory erasure.
“She died two months after she started seeing him. Her body couldn’t take the abuse anymore, she choked on her own chemical filled vomit in an alleyway. After seeing his success with trials on this poor woman with no repercussions, he went after others from the gutters of the city.”
William takes a beige folder and lays it in front of Albert on the table.
“He’s killed 36 people since then. And that’s what I’ve been able to confirm. There’s undoubtedly been more who have no records. All of them are of the lowest incomes. They were his human experiments because nobody cared when they disappeared. Smith is the dirtiest of London's wealthy bastards and as part of my duty in rebuilding the city, I cannot allow him to run rampant anymore.”
Albert shifts through the papers in front of him, seeing various news headlines and police reports mingling together to create a comprehensive list of bodies left behind by this one man. He sighs and looks to his younger brother again.
“I understand why you feel you must do this, I do, but it’s not just a party. It’s a party that you weren’t invited to, hosted by a man you just told me has positively killed 36 people, with the purpose of said party being to sell his perfected concoctions to the other rich pricks of London.”
“Well,” William starts, “I wouldn’t go in as myself. Assuming, most correctly I’m sure, that Culverton hasn’t actually met any of his customers, I’m already on top of that.”
“How-” Albert starts.
William answers his question before he can ask, “I shan’t bother you with the details of the matter, but let’s just say one of the guests, a Mr. Reginold Loid, will be… predisposed during the days of the party. I’m simply attending for him in his sudden unfortunate absence.”
Albert’s face still shows signs of hesitation, “And what if someone who knows this Reginold Loid or someone who knows William James Moriarty shows up?”
“Of course I’ve already combed the guest list. No one I’ve met will be attending. Nor anyone with apparent records of ever having met Mr. Loid. Most of the guests will be foreigners so I very much doubt we’ll have much trouble there.”
“I still don’t like this, there are too many uncertainties.”
“Albert, if I may be so direct, have I ever failed you before?”
“Of course not. But you’ve also never been alone before. You’ve always had us there to help you, to watch over you.”
William sighs, “I understand your concerns brother, but I assure you I’ll be more than fine. There is almost no chance of anyone there recognizing me. Not to mention, I am more than capable of taking care of myself.”
Silence falls once again over the room. They are at an impasse. Albert studies his younger brother intently before finally saying, “Okay.”
This warrants a raised eyebrow from William, “You’re satisfied then?”
“Not exactly. But I’ve known you for quite a long time, Will. If Louis and I said no, you’d just sneak out and do it anyway. That sense of morality of yours is almost more stubborn than you are. So, okay. You should probably get going, I reckon you have to make it to the party soon enough.”
“The invite says to be there by the end of Wednesday eve,” William confirms.
“And you’re already packed?” Albert asks.
With a smirk, Williams replies, “Of course.”
“Then I’d suggest you get going now, it’s best to do it while Louis isn’t here to stop you, he will try.”
William’s eyes widen, but not for long. He flashes Albert a warm smile before standing up. Walking over to the door, he picks up a large briefcase sitting next to the door. A black tophat sits on the coat rack, waiting for William to pluck it off and place it on his head. Lastly, he grabs his cane sitting next to the door, and opens it.
Albert chuckles lightly, “You were certainly ready I see. If there’s anything you need, please share.”
William, standing in the mahogany doorway, considers his brother’s offer for a moment. “Actually Albert, there is one thing. Do you happen to have a mask I could borrow?”
“A mask, why?”
“It’s a masquerade party since so many of the attendees are of high importance. Oh, I hope I didn’t forget to mention that,” William says slyly.
Albert just stares at his brother a moment before a smile breaks out across his face, “You bastard.”
A beautiful and unnecessarily lavish carriage makes its way down a cobblestone path. It bumps up and down, a less than comfortable ride for William who sits alone inside the velvet-lined framing. His legs crossed, William allows his mind to wander as he stares out the window at the scenery. It’s rare he gets such a moment to himself.
He thinks about the irony of him going to such a party for the wealthy. The wealthy who were so disgusting that they had everything they could ever want, yet their warped egos demanded an escape from their perfect existences.
William let out a scoff at the idea. The rich wanted to play with drugs while the poor were dying to escape such a life.
They really are pigs.
His train of thought is derailed when the cobblestone path turns around a large hedge, revealing a sizable mansion that was surrounded by miles and miles of gorgeous British landscape.
As the carriage nears the entrance, William can see several other guests exiting their own carriages and being greeted by an army of perfectly trained servants. There was gold plating lining the stairs and topiaries nearly 10 feet high. Every part about this entrance screamed extravagance. The opulent persons of the world still succeeded in surprising the young Moriarty, even if it was short lived and polluted by the thought of the sheer wastefulness of it all.
Composure was key. Although he thought these people were worse than scum at the bottom of one's shoe, he has to be one. For three days. Cracking could cost him his cover and maybe even his life.
The carriage pulls to a grinding halt. William takes a deep breath and puts on his black and red masquerade mask. Show time.
His eyes dart to the door as the driver dutifully opens it for him. His driver was an unremarkable brown-haired and middle-aged man wearing your standard brown faded suit with a pen and notebook sticking out of his pocket, yet something about him felt off. William couldn't quite put his finger on it. Plus he's driven him all the way here, so it seems unlikely his goal is to kill him.
William steps down onto the golden pebbled ground. The driver hands him his case and with a brief exchange of nods, William walks away towards the entrance.
It's as he is almost at the steps leading into the grand mansion doors that he realises what was bothering him.
I've seen that notebook before.
William turns around sharply and marches back to the carriage where the driver is just about to leave.
The blonde wears an unimpressed look on his face as he clears his throat to get the driver's attention. It works. The driver turns to face William, grey eyes narrowing slightly.
“Hello Fred,” William says.
The driver grunts and turns his head away from William, admitting the blonde’s suspicions.
“Your notebook, I knew it was yours,” William nods at Fred’s coat pocket that held a small black notebook. “Don’t worry, your disguise was as flawless as ever.”
Fred says nothing.
“Albert and Sebastian's efforts to keep me safe is touching, but I assure you I'm perfectly fine without a babysitter” William challenges Fred by staring him in the eyes.
A moment passes as the two engage in a battle of wills. The world passes around them, masked aristocrats entering the house and their servants leaving for the stables. Fred's eyes dart around to take in their surroundings. The two were starting to get stares from some of the household staff.
Finally, Fred turns his head away and grunts. The corner of William's mouth curves slightly. He's won.
“Thank you Fred,” Moriarty hands him a generous handful of pounds, “For your discretion around my well-meaning family.”
Fred nods and hides his eagerness as he pockets the money. He looks at William one last time, as if to decide if it was really okay to just leave him behind.
William simply smiles at Fred, “Nothing will happen, my friend. I assure you no one here even knows my true identity.”
Accepting the cool confidence of his boss, Fred turns and climbs back on the carriage, disguise intact. He rides off, leaving the blonde behind, completely without allies. William watches as the carriage disappears down the road and finally around the corner out of sight.
William turns around to once again face the grand entrance. Luggage in hand, he walks up the staircase slowly and gracefully. The servants on either side eye him but only until the next guest approaches to be stared down.
Upon reaching the open doors, William takes a moment to grasp the gross display of wealth around him. He stands in a foyer of grand proportions, the size easily surpassing that of a small house. Two staircases start on either side of the room and curve gently to meet at one centre entrance on the second floor. On the first floor, there are three paths from this entrance into the house: one by the start of each staircase both appearing to lead into large rooms to entertain guests, and one in between the staircases leading into a corridor.
There was a lavish dark red carpet spanning the floor, and flowers of various colours that looked designed to match each other and their surroundings lining the staircase. A giant glass chandelier hangs above it all, sparkling in the glowing ambience.
Right at the front of the room is a butler standing behind a small wooden stand. He has a list of names in front of him.
William walks up to the man and hardly has time to open his mouth before the butler is talking first.
“Welcome to Smith manor sir. May I have your name please?”
William answers perfectly, “Thank you very much. My name is Reginold Loid. I have my invitation as well if you need it.” William reaches one hand in his breast pocket and pulls out a golden slip of paper. On it written in lavender ink is the message:
Dear Mr. Loid,
You are cordially invited to attend my annual clientele party which will last four days and nights on the Thursday of the first week of September. As a repeat buyer of my goods, I would love to finally meet you in person. It will most certainly be worth your while. I look forward to seeing you by Wednesday evening when the rest of the guests are expected to arrive.
Most sincerely,
Culverton Smith
William hands the invitation to the butler who takes it and examines it for a moment. Satisfied, he puts it in a pile of other invitations. With his other hand, he grabs a key and hands it to William.
Standing there a moment, the butler doesn't even look up from his tasks to understand William's confusion for the hotel-like setup of this house party.
“As you know sir,” he explains, “there will be certain activities attended during the weekend that are of a discretionary sort. The key is because of Mr. Smith’s respect his guests' privacy.” He looks up and his eyes sweep up William from head to toe, judging. “No matter what activities you may be interested in.”
The blonde resists an eye roll at the statement and instead flashes a warm smile of gratitude. “Thank you so much.”
“That being said,” the butler continues, “we are here to help with anything you need, no questions of course.” He nods slightly at the corner of the room where servants dutifully line the available wall space. “So as our first act of service for the weekend, would you like someone to help take your luggage up to your room Mr. Loid?”
William politely shakes his head.
This thing about protecting our privacy may both come in handy and be a hindrance.
“Very good sir,” says the butler. With that, he goes back to scribbling notes on a notebook while waiting to help the next guest.
William tucks the key into his pants pocket and steps aside, officially entering the house as Reginold Loid, honoured guest of Culverton Smith.
He lets himself glide to the left side of the room, luggage in hand, and ascends the curving stairs. Once on the landing, he takes a moment to soak in the view. While all this splendour really was too much for him, the young Moriarty did enjoy the sight of all of it - riches and aristocrats alike - below him.
Not wanting to spend too much time there, William turns around and starts down the hallway to find his bedroom. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the key. The number on it is meant to correspond to a room but the line is vaguely hard to make out.
Staring intently, William is having a hard time determining if the number reads 14 or 19 when he turns a corner. He hardly notices the man coming from the other direction. They collide and William drops his case and key to the floor.
A blush of embarrassment creeps onto his cheeks. He quickly grabs his case off the floor and reaches for the key but a hand stops him dead in his tracks grabbing it before he can.
William looks up to see an aggressively average man. He isn't very tall, starting to bald at the temples, and must be at least 50 if he had to guess. The man stands there, studying the key and eyeing William who is still squatted on the floor.
Slowly rising, William picks up that despite appearances, there is something dangerous about this man. He poses a guess to his identity before the man even has to say anything.
Culverton Smith.
“And who do I have the pleasure of running into this early in my party?” The man smiles a wicked grin, the kind that reminds William in perfect resemblance of a shark.
“Oh! You must be our esteemed host, what an honour it is to finally meet you,” William says, playing along. “My name is Reginold Loid, I'm terribly sorry this is how our introductions must be made, I'm afraid I was having the trickiest time deciphering the number on my key.”
Culverton doesn't even give the key a second glance before handing it back to William. “Room 19, right across from my favourite room. A fine part of the house indeed. Keep down the hall. If you don't run into any other unsuspecting victims, I expect you'll find it with ease.”
William lets out a polite chuckle to try and seem like any normal rich twat of a guest, but mostly to hide his suspicion of Culverton’s odd choice of wording. “Thank you kindly sir.”
Without another word, Culverton slinks past him and walks into a room somewhere in the hallway from which William just came.
Realising the sooner he puts his stuff away the quicker he can get back to studying his target, William resumes his search for his room, this time with a clear destination in mind.
After another two turns, William arrives at the end of the hallway. A giant window that overlooks the expansive back field is all that separates Room 19 and Room 20 across from it.
He takes a moment to study 20 for a moment, as if staring at the door is going to make him understand why Smith called it his favourite. Of course, no answer. Just another mystery to solve.
William places his key into the lock of 19 and turns it, opening the door into a grand bedroom. Of course, he isn't surprised anymore with the lengths his host went to all in the purpose of impressing his guests. Well, clients is a more accurate word.
Besides the king sized bed sitting in the middle, the 4 metre tall ceiling, and the large window overlooking the scenery, William is instantly drawn by the vicious shades of blue that adorned the room. A deep sapphire wallpaper is complemented by the large azure curtains and bedspread. Even the decorations are matching variations of cerulean such as the bedside oil lamp and the cush chair in the corner. There is something about the colour blue that brings comfort to the young Moriarty.
What wasn't blue was a charming brown to pop the accent colour. Besides the carpet and window desk, in another corner stood a brown bookshelf that was filled with various volumes of medical and other scientific research books.
William notices the only other book in the room is a Bible sitting next to the lamp on his nightstand. He almost scoffs but resists the urge, he had a character to play, even in supposed privacy.
He walks over to the chair and places his case on it. For the next few minutes, William takes the time to unpack things, making sure he is properly situated for the next four days.
After this, he grabs a small green book from where he placed it on the desk and opens it. Inside are notes on Culverton Smith. He scans the pages for anything that may stand out to him as different after his encounter with the man, but the article clippings unfortunately did not change since the last time he looked at them.
Closing the book, he searches for a safe place to put it. He finally settles on a loose seat cushion of the ones that lined the window. He pries it open without much effort and places the book in the small space below.
Looking outside, William sees the sun is starting to set meaning he doesn't have much time before the night 1 dinner party. He walks over to the bathroom and takes in the sight of himself in the mirror.
I really should get ready for this evening. But I'm here with a purpose in mind. I can do both, surely.
Leaving the bathroom, William grabs only his key and opens his bedroom door, intent on getting ready later.
Outside, he sees a man dressed in a suit and donning grey hair entering the room in front of him. William waits a moment to get a glimpse of his neighbour but has no such luck when the man closes the door behind him. William turns around and does the same before taking off down the hallway.
Snaking around the corridors is much easier to do the second time around and the young Moriarty quickly finds his way back to the corner where he first ran into Culverton Smith.
From there, he finds the door he saw the shark enter earlier and stands in front, ready to turn the handle when he hears voices from inside. William positions himself flat against the wall outside the door, leaning his head forwards and listening.
Behind the door, part of a conversation can be heard: “...just arrived. I gotta say it's strange though, the bugger doesn't look like how I imagined.”
“That's because it's not him,” fumes one voice who William pegs as Smith. “The coward must've sent a representative.”
William feels his blood run cold.
Have I been found out so soon?
Culverton continues, “I have yet to meet the man, I only saw him when arrived, but I intend to sort this matter straight.”
William felt his hitched breath release.
He can't mean me, but then who else could this possibly apply to?
The other voice speaks again, “Does this cause issues boss? Wasn't he the whole reason…”
“Yes yes, you neanderthal” Culverton cuts off, “Just keep a close eye on…”
Just then, William's listening is interrupted when a hand falls on his shoulder. He jerks his head up to see who it is, and how much trouble it could mean for him.
Instead, he's met with the nervous but kind eyes of a servant girl who meets his look with her own of concern.
“Sir, are you okay?” she asks.
William skillfully pushes off the wall and lightly guides the girl away from the door. The last thing he needs is for the people inside to know their conversation was less than private.
Leading her to the hallway's entrance, he lies with such ease; the devil was always known for his silver tongue.
“Sorry my dear. I'm quite alright. It's silly really, one of the other guests and I are previously acquainted and I thought I'd wait for her outside her room while she got ready for the night inside to escort her downstairs. But it seems I must've fallen into a light sleep,” William chuckles a bit at his fabrication as if every word was the truth. “I knew she'd be a while, but not this long.”
The servant girl lights up, apparently believing his story, “Oh ok sir! I'm so sorry to have disturbed you waiting for your lady friend!”
He smiles gently at her, “No, not at all. In fact, you did me a favour, I was going to wait forever for her it seems, all without remembering to do myself up.”
She beams, “Then I'm glad to be of service Mr…”
“Loid, thank you very much…”
“I'm Maria, sir. It's my first week on the job, pardon if I seem nervous, I'm just glad to not have messed up with a guest on the first day of the party.”
William feels a bit sympathetic for her. Until now, he's assumed all staff were experienced criminals working for the grand shark himself. But Maria, she must only be hired as extra staff for the party.
He turns to start in the direction of his room but before he leaves, he says goodbye to her. She warmly reciprocates, waving to him and wishing him luck with his acquaintance.
William makes his way back to his room and gets ready, putting on his sleek black party suit and setting aside the travel one. He finishes up by making sure he's wearing his signature red tie matching his mask and gives himself a once over.
Ready for your debut, Mr. Loid.
Satisfied, William takes the key out of his earlier outfit and sticks it in the pocket of tonight's. He looks out the window. It's golden hour, the party starts now.
The blonde decides there's one last task he must do before going downstairs. William walks over to the window lined seating and carefully takes out his book. Taking it over to the desk, he uses the quill and ink provided to write on the next blank page:
Night one of the party - I overheard a conversation between Smith and an associate, more likely someone who works for him, and a few deductions that I can make are:
- I'm not the only one who's taking someone else's place (although they're likely sent in his place)
- He's important to Smith
- He may have something to do with the reason this party is even happening
My next move is to find whatever man he was talking about and get acquainted with the replacement. He could be the key.
William sticks the quill back in the ink and closes the book. He carefully places it back in the hiding place and walks to the door. He exists, locks it, and walks down the hallway, towards the growing noise that greets him at the end.
When he exits the corridor and looks down below the bannister, he sees a party already in full swing, with maybe two dozen guests at least lingering in the room to the right of the entrance hall. He observes for a few moments before turning and walking down the stairs, mimicking the perfect embodiment of sophistication that his present company seems to demand.
William turns into the room. A long table of hors d'oeuvres lines the windowed wall facing the front. He can see through the window, candles lighting the night outside. Inside, the quartz floored dance floor is being used by several couples who came together and are moving to music being played by a live string quartet sitting across the food.
It wasn’t so crowded as to be busy, but enough that William has a hard time keeping track of them all. Even his observational ability has a limit.
One at a time then.
He makes his way over to the hors d'oeuvres and picks up a smoked salmon ring and a glass of champagne. He walks around, lightly consuming the two while moving his gaze around the crowd.
It doesn’t take him long to fall into conversation. He ends up meeting two couples: the Farbingers, a young German couple with their hands deep in human trafficking, and the Lucias, a Spanish husband and wife who control the entire Portuguese drug trade. William isn't surprised to find people of these particular occupations in this place. In fact, as the Lord of Crime, he cannot be one to judge. However, it does surprise him yet just how corrupt every single person at the party seems to be.
He refrains from recoiling in disgust when talking to Phillip Harding, a politician who admits proudly to taking bribes from the UK Mafia in order to let them smuggle in dangerous weapons.
“But that's the way it is, isn't it ol’ chap?” Harding drunkenly spews to William, “Bloody coppers don't give a damn as long as they're getting paid. I fuckin love the law. Justice at work, am I right??”
Fucking pig.
William feels his fist tighten. Harding was the reason for his existence. He was the reason the young Moriarty worked so hard to get where he is today. To prevent assholes like him from abusing their power. Yet his efforts sometimes still feel in vain. Weapons smuggling is still a raging problem, killing hundreds of innocents every goddamn year. Why was this bastard allowed to live in his palace of luxuries built off the suffering of uninvolved victims!?
“Bloody hell mate, you had too much to drink already?” asks Harding.
William realises that he has just been staring for the last minute. “Ha, that must be it, good sir. If you'll excuse me, I have to find some more food before I let the beverage take the best of me.”
Walking back to the food table, the room suddenly becomes too much for him to handle. He holds his head subtly, trying to play the part even in his pain. The dancing and laughing rich people start to seep deep into his skull, their faces blazing in his mind. How could such opulence be wasted on the worst humanity had to offer?
William grabs the table as he tries to break himself out of it. Now was not the time to have a breakdown. He had no support. He's in this alone.
“Mr. Loid?”
The voice breaks him out of his trance. William turns sharply but with enough composure to face Mr. Farbinger from earlier in the night.
“Oh hello! Mr. Farbinger was it? To what do I owe the pleasure?” William does his best to regain his act.
“Sorry to bother you again, but I was discussing with a, uh, peculiar gentleman over there who was asking about you,” Farbinger points to another corner in the room, but William doesn't look.
Farbinger continues, “He was saying he knew you? Old school friends I suppose? Anyway, I just wanted you to know he may be coming your way soon enough.” Then he says as he walks away, under his breath, “He’s kind of a bastard if you ask me.”
William never stops staring at the spot on which he has fixated on the table.
No no no no no NO!
There wasn't supposed to be anyone here who knew Reginold Loid. Politely, he was completely fucked if the man did decide to come over and engage.
“Oh, looks like he's coming over now actually,” Farbinger says, his unintended warning ringing in William’s ears. “Well, I'll leave you both to it. Hope to see you again soon Mr. Loid.”
He feels his face fall pale and he can't bring himself to turn. The moment he does, his entire charade is over. Bolting would be too suspicious.
Maybe I should've let Fred stay. It would've led to a quick escape. SHIT! NO! I can handle this, I can say I was a stand-in just like whoever I’m looking for, it was a misunderstanding, that's all…… But how? My information was flawless. Who could this outlier of information be??
William stands there, eyes unmoving from the table in front of him. He has moments, seconds, before he could be ruined on the first day, and then it all would've been for nothing.
Suddenly he feels a hot breath in his ear before he even has time to process his thoughts, a very rare occurrence. William is suddenly very aware of someone standing close to him from behind. So close that he can feel the body heat radiating off the tall presence.
“So, Mr. Loid was it?” the voice coos, “My mistake thinking you were someone else,” there is something mischievous behind this tone, “maybe you just remind me of an old maths professor of mine.”
William feels shivers run down his spine. Yet upon hearing the voice, his heart skips a beat, he knows it, he's heard it before.
Then, with all the confidence he can muster, William turns around to face a tall and dark haired man, standing only inches away, wearing a black and blue masquerade mask, and staring him in the eyes with a look of intensity that William can't quite decipher. His own breathing hitches, though he can't explain why; his rival standing so close, it was dangerous.
…But…
William catches himself when his arm starts to reach out for the man in front of him, his flushed cheeks not helping his current composure.
He clears his throat and stares those dangerously beautiful blue eyes straight on.
“Hello Sherlock, to what do I owe the pleasure?”