*𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐃.

[wjmoriarty]

waves,, happy to announce that i’m making a tentative return! i’ll likely only be semi-active as i update my theme, verses info and the like otherwise i’m still quite reachable on discord. now that the anime is out i’m very interested to see if there was a community boone...

28.01: updates complete!

[gryffindorglamour]

[wjmoriarty]

[littlelovelymemes]

(    *    & .    —    THE  UMBRELLA  ACADEMY  SENTENCE  STARTERS .

‘  you’re  are  depraving  some  village  of  their  idiot .  ’

‘  i  miss you .  i  miss  you  every  day  that  i’m  not  with  you .  ’

‘  i  didn’t  think  it  was  possible  to  miss  a  person  this  much .  ’

‘  if  you  love  music  then  you’re  in  the  right  place .  ’

‘  the  ties  that  bind  you  together  make  you  stronger  than  you  are  alone .  ’

‘  i  can’t  just  call  him  in  the  afterlife  and  be  like ,  ‘ can  you  please  stop  playing  tennis  with  hitler  for  a  moment  and  take  a  quick  call ? ’  ’

‘  get  up .  we’re  going  to  save  the  world .  ’

‘  it’s  not  spandex ,  it’s  leather .  and  you  used  to  like  it .  a  lot ,  if  i  recall .  ’

‘  we  can  accomplish  anything  when  we  accept  responsibility  together .  this  is  what  creates  trust .  ’

‘  you  never  know  when  to  stop ,  do  you ?  ’

‘  you  got  enough  material  for  your  sequel  yet ?  ’

‘  i  bet  you’re  loving  this ,  hm ?  the  team  at  it’s  best .  it’s  just  like  old  times .  ’

‘  he  hated  children  too  and  he  had  plenty  of  us .  ’

‘  if  you  believe  in  yourself ,  just  once ,  great  things  are  gonna  happen  for  you .  ’

‘  i  know  that  i  let  you  down ,  but  i  could  do  anything  for  you .  ’

‘  you  know ,  i  liked  you  a  lot  better  before  you  got  laid .  ’

‘  oh  yeah ,  it  is  your  skirt .  i  found  it  in  your  room .  it’s  a  little  dated ,  but  it’s  very  breathy  on  the …  bits .  ’

‘  you’re  the  most  important  person  in  the  world  to  me .  ’

‘  best .  funeral .  ever !  ’

‘  sometimes  men  are  unredeemable  shits .  ’

‘  we  were …  we  were  just  kids .  little  kids .  ’

‘  we  all  came  home .  since  we’re  here ,  we  might  as  well  save  the  world .  ’

‘  i’ve  decided  you’re  the  only  one  i  can  trust .  ’

‘  if  you’re  raised  to  believe  that  nothing  about  you  is  special ,  if  the  benchmark  is  extraordinary ,  what  do  you  do  if  you’re  not ?  ’

‘  eternal  peace  is  probably  overrated .  ’

‘  we  all  wanted  to  be  loved  by  a  man  incapable  of  giving  love .  ’

‘  one  grows  used  to  things ,  even  if ,  sometimes  one  shouldn’t .  ’

‘  look ,  you  wanna  pay  your  respects ?  go  ahead .  but  at  least  be  honest  about  the  kind  of  man  he  was .  ’

‘  you  of  all  people  should  be  on  my  side .  he  had  to  send  you  a  million  miles  away .  that’s  how  much  he  couldn’t  stand  the  sight  of  you .  ’

‘  i  feel  like  we  should  stop  him ,  but  then  again  i  also  just  kinda  wanna  see  what  happens .  ’

‘  you  make  me  want  to  wake  up  each  day  and  you’re  in  my  dreams  every  night .  ’

‘  you  also  told  me  that  licking  a  nine  volt  battery  would  give  me  pubes .  ’

‘  i’m  just  gonna  go  murder  mom ,  i’ll  be  right  back .  ’

‘  last  time  we  tried  to  stop  it ,  we  all  died .  what  makes  this  time  any  different ?  ’

‘  we  actually  have  the  chance  of  saving  the  lives  of  billions  of  people .  ’

‘  it  wasn’t  his  fault  ‘cause  he  was  ridiculously  high ,  right ?  and  the  girl ,  she  thought  he  was  a  furry …  ’

‘  i  think  maybe  you’re  the  only  person  who  really  knows  who  i  am  and  still  likes  me  anyway .  ’

‘  you  don’t  get  to  blame  your  problems  on  anyone  but  yourself .  ’

‘  we  didn’t  choose  this  life .  we’re  just  living it .  ’

‘  than  christ  he’s  not  our  real  father ,  so  we  couldn’t  inherit  those  cold ,  dead  eyes .  ’

‘  you  don’t  have  to  apologize  just  for  existing .  ’

‘  when  something  seems  to  perfect ,  it’s  usually  anything  but .  ’

‘  all  the  what - if’s  start  to  haunt  you .  ’

‘  i’m  done  playing  their  games .  i’m  ready  for  a  change .  ’

‘  i  would  love  to  play  cops  and  robbers ,  wear  a  mask ,  and  feel  important ,  but  guess  what ?  recess  is  over .  it’s  grown - up  time .  ’

‘  we  have  a  great  job .  the  best  job .  we  got  it  made ,  asshole .  ’

‘  people  still  don’t  take  me  seriously .  i  wanna  be  numb  again .  ’

‘  i  stayed  because  the  world  needed  me .  ’

‘  at  least  i  make  my  own  decisions .  ’

‘  i  have  been  left  out  of  everything  for  as  long  as  i  can  remember .  ’

‘  nowhere  to  go .  no  way  to  change .  ’

‘  but  now ,  i  know  nothing  in  my  life  was  real .  so  i’m  starting  over .  ’

‘  you  do  whatever  it  takes  to  survive .  or  you  die .  ’

‘  i  don’t  belong  anywhere ,  thanks  to  you !  you  made  me  a  killer !  ’

‘  i’ve  done  unimaginable  things ,  things  you  couldn’t  even  comprehend ,  just  to  get  back  here  and  save  you .  ’

‘  she  needs  our  help  and  we  can’t  do  that  if  she’s  locked  in  a  cage .  ’

‘  i  mean ,  it  must  be  scary .  terrifying ,  really .  to  discover  that  you  can  do  something  that  you  never  thought  you  could  do .  ’

‘  it’s  not  difficult  to  accept ,  it’s  impossible  to  accept !  ’

‘  what  are  you  still  doing  here ?  we’re  trying  to  have  a  serious  conversation .  ’

‘  what’s  going  on  with  you ?  and  don’t  tell  me  everything  is  alright  because  i  saw  you  in  there .  you  were  crying  like  a  baby .  ’

‘  you  saved  my  life !  ’

‘  i  don’t  want  them  to  see  me  like  this .  besides ,  you  know ,  i’d  just  hold  them  back .  ’

‘  how  about  we  ask  him  after  we  kill  him ?  ’

‘  maybe  they’ll  brood  each  other  to  death .   ’

‘  you’re  a  real  sick  bastard .  ’

‘  would  you  stop  it ?  why  are  you  putting  this  shit  in  your  body ?  ’

‘  he  must  have  been  a  very  special  person  to  put  up  with  your  weird - ass  shit .  ’

‘  you  were  my  greatest  disappointment .  you  only  scratched  the  surface  of  what  you  were  capable  of .  ’

‘  i  lost  someone .  the  only …  the  only  person  i’ve  ever  truly  loved  more  than  myself .  ’

‘  you  know ,  before  you  kill  him ,  you  might  want  to  hear  what  he  has  to  say .  ’

‘  we  all  came  home .  since  we’re  here , we  might  as  well  save  the  world .  ’

[persephonememes]

* (  REIGN /  SENTENCE PROMPTS. 

These may have been edited for clarity or length or to better apply for roleplaying.

❛ How many people have you killed? ❜

❛ History is a strong word. It was more of a… dalliance. ❜

❛ Have you ever wanted something so much that the fear of not getting it makes you wonder if you ever should have wanted it at all? ❜

❛ I don’t want to live without you and after this I won’t have to.  ❜

❛ No one will ever keep us apart again. ❜

❛ Men in general like to win. ❜

❛ Well, your taste in men always did leave something to be desired. ❜

❛ In the darkest of times you were my conscience. ❜

❛ The more we try to help each other, the more harm we do. ❜

❛ I lose everyone I love. ❜

❛ What odd turns our lives have taken. ❜

❛ I don’t give my heart or give up easily. ❜

❛ You have to admit, your fate does have a sense of humor. ❜

❛ I need to forget a ridiculous, childish idea that I could love someone, they could love me, and nothing else mattered. ❜

❛ There is always risk. At least when you love someone it’s worth taking. ❜

❛ I never said I was a good man, but one can receive good advice from a bad person.❜

❛ Love is never simple. Not that I’m any expert. ❜

❛ Are you wearing mink-lined boots? ❜

❛ Well if I have to run I want to look good doing it. ❜

❛ We were supposed to dance under the stars. ❜

❛ Maybe there is no magic but what we make for ourselves. ❜

❛ If the price is my life, I will give it. ❜

❛ I can’t bear to think about a future anymore, not without you. ❜

❛ What good is right or wrong if you’re dead? ❜

❛ Men don’t like taking orders from women. ❜

❛ And real love never fades, not truly. ❜

❛ Just know whatever happens, this is not the end I dreamed for us. ❜

❛ Do not test my power and do not tempt my fury. ❜

❛ If I’m as responsible as you say, I will never forgive myself. ❜

❛ I will spill blood to defend what’s mine. ❜

❛ Men forget, that woman have ears. ❜

❛ Duels only lead to dead men, not respect. ❜

❛ I am trying to be better! ❜

❛ You’re a monster. ❜

❛ You are a necessary evil whose orbit I can’t seem to escape. ❜

❛ I opened my heart to a liar. ❜

[claudemonet-art]

…I had so much fire in me and so many plans…

Claude Monet  (via down-the-rabbith0le)

[whirlingatoms]

[wjmoriarty]

[wjmoriarty]

"Now he'll definitely kill me too..."

[wjmoriarty]

we're really getting to it now huh

[quotingliterature-blog]

Arthur Conan Doyle, The Red-Headed League

[wjmoriarty]

holmesed*

       “EH — ARE YOU SURE? I mean, I’ve gotten economy tickets, and….well, are you sure that your brothers won’t mind? It’s a box, after all, so I guess you guys would like your privacy, right? But if you say so….”

       An acceptable enough first date is right, but Sherlock really doesn’t trust himself with keeping his attention divided between conversation and the ballet. It’s something like therapy for Sherlock, with each and every step of the choreography blending well in the swelling music, and now would not be a very good time to tell William that if he were to be disturbed even just a little bit with a word or a slight nudge, it would be akin to breaking a most beautiful spell that been cast, inviting an incredibly rude awakening.

       “If you say so, then I’ll come. I’ll try not to be too much of a nuisance, so don’t you worry about that, Liam,” Sherlock grins. William does have a certain charm to him; completely magnetic and wonderfully demure in every way, but there’s no mistaking the sharper undertones that he skillfully hides behind gentle smiles and polite mannerisms. A fine intellectual, Sherlock thinks, because as far as he knows, there’s no one like William that he’s ever met so far, and that’s saying a whole of a lot.

       “The ship’s boring in itself, yeah, but aren’t you the type who likes shopping?” he asks, a little perplexed over the very mention of William being absolutely bored to the point where he’s traveled the world figuratively on the ship. “There’s a lot of designer brands about, and there’s a lot of entertainment; the casinos, the mini library, the epicurean dining if you’re into that….”

       But come to think of it, Sherlock finds everything a little boring too, save for the casino, of course. Purchasable hotspots with set quotas on deck already burned a hole in his pocket so far, and speaking of pockets, he digs his hand into his right slacks pocket to find….

       …..what?

       “Huh….” Sherlock blinks, pulling out the cloth of his pocket to reveal nothing but scraps of a ticket that used to be whole, but now all minced up to bits as if it was chucked into a blender. With a look of utter mortification, Sherlock’s expression contorts into one of absolute horror, and he finds himself shaking even worse than his attempted withdrawal symptoms at the fact that he left the bloody ticket in his pocket while laundering it.

       “Oh my fucking god,” Sherlock murmurs. 

         ⌜ ♔ ⌟  —  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐓 𝐈𝐍 the comfortable atmosphere as an expression of almost comical horror paints itself across Sherlock’s face very nearly catches William in a rare bout of laughter— it’s only the fear of his companion taking the reaction the wrong way that manages to stifle him with a polite hand over his mouth and a raised brow as he stares at the poor shredded remains sitting in Sherlock’s palm of his now-useless ticket. 

        “My, that’s... unfortunate,” William manages helpfully after a moment of silent respect passes by. He reaches over to delicately pinch the largest scrap from Sherlock’s hand to at least attempt and read the faded seating number though it looks as though even that would be an impossible feat. 

        “If you’d like though, I could try and speak to someone about a replacement?” he offers kindly, glancing to Sherlock apologetically, “I don’t want you to feel as though there’s no other way to view the performance but to take up my offer though I assure you it’s still there-- and truly, my brothers wouldn’t mind. We’re all here to see the show after all, aren’t we? And one more person keeping us company certainly isn’t going to be a bother.”

        Which may, in all honesty, be a bit of a premature thing to say when his younger brother has time and time again proven to warm very slowly to strangers and even more so to the ones that William brings around... but, well, it couldn’t hurt in the slightest to try. Besides, Albert was a brilliant buffer at least and they were all there to see the show; not to play catty with unlucky guests who’d accidentally ran their tickets through the wash.

        “It’s all fine, I suppose,” William answers in regards to finding the ship a bit dull. He sighs, propping his chin against the curve of his fingers and settling for passively watching Sherlock presumably adjust to whatever it was he was going to do now. Perhaps it’d been a lucky thing for the both of them after all, for him to run into William tonight. “But it’s no different from any of the other luxury liners I’ve been aboard and there’s only so much entertainment you can find in the monotony of it all no matter how lavishly it’s dressed up.”

        He wasn’t much of a gambler himself, though the games themselves were sometimes interesting enough with decent opponents. The library held little merit when the ones under his own family name could put it to shame by matchlight and really William was just tired of the patterns. There was no stimulation, nothing new and yet now here he was with someone who had already managed to shake the haze. 

        “How much of it all have you seen?” he asks Sherlock curiously, already formulating a tactic plan of sorts to tote Sherlock around to the orchid garden or deposit him off at the pool or wine-tasting that he was certain Albert had already indulged in. It was all more than a little bourgeois but at the very least William could make sure his interesting saviour had a nice trip— if not as a thank you for earlier, then as one for rescuing William from another weekend of aimless wandering and disinterested rifling through a boutique that would have nothing he hadn’t already seen or made sure to own.

[wjmoriarty]

holmesed‌*

       FOR A MOMENT,  it was as if he could almost sense the unease from William’s person despite the beautifully placed smile tugging at his lips in an impeccable display of aloofness. The question that accompanied William did somewhat corner Sherlock into actually using his head for once in regards to something as rocky as a relationship, especially when he’s been trying to tread lightly in the face of harboring an incredibly massive crush on the mathematician beside him.

       They have never been simple, him and William. They have never been ordinary people; they have always swept themselves up into the storm that is the intertwining worlds of justice and crime, and it is a web that they could never hope to escape from for the rest of their lives. For the most part, those were their lives - their fates to constantly wind around each other until the greater evil has been vanquished, so to say. Indeed, for that matter, to find a more peaceful turn of events such as this one was a rarity; something that Sherlock dearly wished to cherish and to hold great importance of.

       “Apologize for what?” Sherlock asks, comfortably smiling over at William so as to reassure him in his good-natured concerns. “You’ve got nothing to apologize for, Liam; it really doesn’t bother me. In fact, how do I say this….I guess I can say that I’m really comfortable with you, so there you have it. No saying sorry and stuff like that, because whenever you’re around, I tend to not look at anyone else. John said so himself, you know? To say that I’m interested in someone’s kinda overkill, because well, who’d wanna date me anyways?” he grins jokingly.

       Whether it was self-depreciating or not, it was the truth - who would want to subject themselves to being Sherlock’s romantic interest? A woman would scream whenever they would see Sherlock’s and John’s shared room ( unless her name’s Irene Adler or Mary Morstan, but even they were transient as their roles as a client and as John’s fiancee respectively ), thus for instance, should William ever step into the thresholds of 221B, he would most definitely have his affections for Sherlock decreasing by the second.

       “It doesn’t bother me whatever you do, Liam,” Sherlock reconfirms, putting his hands in his pockets as he nods in affirmation, “but if anything I do bothers you instead, don’t be shy to tell me, okay? We’re gonna be seeing each other a whole lot from now on, and I really don’t want to get on your bad side outside of the entire crime business. Promise you’ll tell?”

       Because despite everything, Sherlock is simply in awe over how considerate and caring William is; in fact, that’s exactly why William goes through numerous lengths and measures to become London’s famed Lord of Crime. His ardent love for the country, as well as his desire to see everyone do well without being strangled by the bonds of social oppression was indeed something….something that Sherlock really didn’t have, and couldn’t bring himself to fake having.

       He truly, truly hated this country, anyhow.

         ⌜ ♔ ⌟  —  𝐋𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐌 𝐖𝐀𝐒 no more difficult than taking a gasp of air or reflexively flinching backward from the sensation of pain. It came naturally and easily and as such he did it well and without hesitation... and yet this time he did. 

        Sherlock was... eccentric, yes, oftentimes operating at a volume far above what was considered appropriate and polite, seemingly refusing to wear anything that didn’t look as though it’d been pulled from a crumpled pile on his bedroom floor, tact existing as a possibly foreign concept to the man— just a few of a great many of quirks but not a single one of them bothered William; how could they? They were what made Sherlock as refreshing and as endearing as he was and therefore none of it was anything William would ever provide less than a brilliant smile and mild words of encouragement for. 

        Though he very well couldn’t say any of that aloud. Nor could he manage much more than a sharply bit tongue and a displeased twitch of his brow as Sherlock dismisses himself as somebody anyone would ever be interested in. 

        Candidly voicing his disagreement and the subsequent confession that he, at the very least, was very much interested were ridiculous thoughts. They barely knew one another beyond the uncanny connection they’d discovered between themselves and William was simply still far too uncertain with how Sherlock felt about him to make any leaps forward. 

        That Sherlock had also came right out and denied interest in anyone at all was also a rather hearty discouragement. Confidence and the pursuit of what he wanted took a back seat to humiliation and the very last thing William wanted to bring on himself was the loss of this new friendship and the blow of rejection from the one person he respected above all others. 

        At least it rather settled things though. 

        “You have my word,” William answers pleasantly, already breathing his oath with a lie through his teeth and another of those reassuring smiles that never quite reached his eyes but did the job well enough. “So if I’m ever to catch you dozing off in the middle of one of my performances, I’ll make quite certain that I’m to be the one to march over and tell you off for it.”

[wjmoriarty]

holmesed‌*

       …..HE LIKES THIS GUY.

       William’s got everything down pat about Sherlock, and Sherlock doesn’t miss a beat in explaining that to him. “Like minds indeed — you’ve got everything correct about me, Liam! Man, I never thought that I’d meet someone like you ever; most people usually find me kind of annoying, so it’s a huge boost for me to meet someone like you…..”

      He yawns a little, not because the conversation was boring him  — no, not at all, because the conversation was extremely riveting in itself!  — but because he really didn’t expect an encounter like this to even be happening. Sherlock had spent a literal waking night anticipating the ballet, for it would be the second time in his life that he would be watching it live. You.Tube simply didn’t cut out for it; nothing could ever beat a live performance, and in an attempt to stay awake, Sherlock downs his pint and asks for another one.

      ….He’s not really sure if it’s the beer making him sleepy, or something else.

      “I’m boring, really,” Sherlock chuckles, “but you’re a really cool guy, so let’s do it. Just a disclaimer though; I’m awful when it comes to love, and if you haven’t deduced that part of me already, I have never loved, so I guess you’ll have to put up with me for two days, huh? I mean, really sorry in advance…..but since you trust me, let’s pull of that con, sweetheart.”

       Pretending to be William’s boyfriend is an entirely new thing to him, because for starters, what would William even like? How do romantic couples even behave? On one hand, they don’t act diabetically sweet, but on the other, they don’t treat each other like complete strangers as well, and being outright awful to each other like how married couples were wont to do simply wouldn’t feel right.

       “So I’ll try to be Mr. Right for these few days,” Sherlock says, a lopsided grin fully plastered on his features. “I really hope I can treat you right, Liam; I’ve never done this before, but hey, everything’s a first, huh?”

         ⌜ ♔ ⌟  —  "𝐂𝐄𝐑𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐃 to say it better myself, Mr. Ho— Sherlock,” William smoothly corrects himself, mirroring Sherlock’s amusement with a small smile of his own curving the swell of his lips. “At the very least things will be more interesting this way, I suppose. My restlessness has led me to wander the length of the ship twice now, I’m afraid and we’re not more than a few hours from departure.”

        He tilts his head a bit to the side, contemplation sparking in his gaze as he considers Sherlock. No, he certainly sees no problems so far in going forward with this silly little hoodwink of theirs. Not even Sherlock’s admission gave him pause, a soft ‘I’ve never either,’ going unsaid when he bites his tongue to keep at least some secrets as they should be with boyfriends who had but a minute’s timer to their name. 

        Dating was admittedly somewhat of a rather foreign concept to William as well; as he was sure that a few dinners or parties or formal events could hardly constitute as such let alone the relative casuality involved in weekend flings or a late evening’s attraction.

        Though how hard could it possibly be?

        William at least had the advantage of having consumed countless books and low-budget holiday romance films to get the gist of what to and not to do, not to mention that Sherlock had already rather proven himself as someone who’d perfected the art of acting along with whatever it was the situation called for in a truly admirable kind of easiness.

        “I’ve an idea,” William announces after a moment, swirling the wine in his glass out of practiced habit rather than any interest in whatever second-shelf pinot he’d been poured. “Come and join my brothers and I in our box for the performance. Admittedly, I don’t quite know what type of tickets they are that you’ve managed to get your hands on but on this ship, there are very few that could hope to beat the view from where our reservations allow us to stay.” 

        It’d also work as a concise, small ‘thank you’ for Sherlock’s efforts in helping William keep a safe distance from his off-putting suitor; not to mention how the other man’s features had visibly lit up while mentioning the ballet. While racking up a karmic tally wasn’t much something that William bothered himself with, he really had taken quite a liking to the refreshing candor and impressive deduction skills that Sherlock had demonstrated all in the two minutes William had known him— not to mention that bright grin plastered across his new companion’s face was a rather attractive expression.

        “Think about it at least?” William says gently; features softening, scarlet eyes rounding just enough to sell the convincing image. “If nothing else, a maritime performance of Giselle would certainly be an acceptable enough first date, don’t you think?”

[wjmoriarty]

holmesed‌*

       HE WAKES TO  the sound of a thunder clap, or rather, the words of someone rousing him awake from his half-baked slumber.

       It really was kind of pathetic to end up sleeping somewhere in the woods as if it’s a survival gig, something that Sherlock would’ve preferred to avoid for as much as possible. Yet, one’s got to sleep somewhere, especially in terms of continuing on a journey to get out of the place where he and John ended up. Sherlock opens his eyes easily enough, not even bothering to rub them as he shifts a little, the movements crackling at the leaves beneath him as he tries to sit up against the strong bark of the tree he slept under.

       “Ugh, is it five yet…..?” Sherlock murmurs, blearily looking at William as he  sniffles a little in the cold; there’s really nothing in this godforsaken forest. Not even a small bit of life - the fact that even the trees looked more than dead nearly knocks the air out of him over the sheer incredulity of it all. Absolutely no one can survive in these woods, and if they were to be looking for the Beast, then this really ought to be the right place.

       “You’re not asleep yet, Liam?” Sherlock asks, shifting himself a little as he takes off his own coat - a lovely plaid Inverness that does more than enough for the job as he places it over William’s eternally cold frame (and oh, how Sherlock worries about him so!). Brows furrow in concern, and they have yet to reach any form of civilization without even the smallest bit of peculiarity and hostility, thus William’s face truly needed a good wash after a little too many scuffles in schoolrooms and rowdy bars. “Come on, I know it’s cold, but you need a little bit of energy to keep going. Speaking of which….”

       He takes it upon himself to light two things; the dying fire, with its small embers dimming and ebbing away in the night, and the small, flickering flame of the lamp that was often carried with them. The trusty Zippo lighter that could, and would never, run out of fuel for at least two weeks did the trick for both, although much less for the lamp for some reason, but it’d have to do.

       “There,” Sherlock smiles. “I bet that’s a little better. At least everyone can sleep warmer, huh, Liam? What was it you wanted to talk about?”

         ⌜ ♔ ⌟  —  𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑, William instinctively tenses up as he watches Sherlock reach out to handle the lantern. It’s a long since ingrained anxiety that’s plagued him even despite the cool rationale of logic assuredly reminding him that Sherlock wouldn’t dare extinguish one of the two fragile sources of light that they had on them in this darkness. Not when the nearest town was still half a day’s walk from where they’d stopped to rest tonight. Not when the warnings they’d received thus far from the denizens of the Unknown were still ringing clear from their last stop.

        Still, William’s eyes track Sherlock’s motions carefully. Watching the curl of his slender fingers and the small, unfamiliar contraption he holds between them that William’s only seen but a few times before over the passage of time but never up so close before. But unfamiliar or not, it keeps the lantern fed and the flame acceptably bright— for now at least, and without all the toil that usually came with keeping the light burning— and he slowly lets himself relax a bit into the warmth of the Inverness now draped heavily across his shoulders. 

        “...Nothing really,” he murmurs quietly, bunching his fingers into the tartan. The fabric smells of tobacco and the clinging cloy of smoke and it pains him to admit that the scents have since become ones that mean safety. “I apologize, I didn’t think I’d actually manage to wake you.”

        Which could technically count a near truth. Or at least, as close to it as William is willing to edge. Coming right out with the stark admittance that he had simply desired Sherlock’s company for as much as he could possibly possess it was something far too damning to confess aloud to either himself or to the other man. And that surprises him too, for William knows he’s never truly alone here. Not when his family is out in these woods somewhere too; never far from earshot and never more than a few hundred paces back. 

        He shifts a bit with a wince, already very much looking forward to when this aimless little adventure was all over and he could once again be certain that his nights would be spent in the comfort of his own home rather than in a strange inn or staring into the darkness of the woods he knew better than the backs of his own hands. This journey had already stretched on far longer than he’d anticipated but William supposed that Sherlock and his companion were anything but the typical passersby ambling through these parts. 

        A rundown though cosy old tavern filled every which way with different characters had been their last stop. Crowded with people who’d been sure to make absolutely certain that Sherlock was well enough aware of just what kind of folklore and legends existed of the shadows twisting through these woods, of just how monstrous the creature was that lay at the center of it all.

        “It’s just...” William starts, glancing at Sherlock now to gauge his reactions as he speaks, “...the last tavern we were at, the one we took cover in from the rain— did their warnings really not manage to set you at all on edge? It seemed as though you hardly flinched and now here we are in the woods once more.”

[wjmoriarty]

holmesed·*

       “SHERLOCK HOLMES,  and while that sounds amazing, I’ve only got like….two hours here before the Giselle premiere, if you don’t mind. I can’t believe they’re doing a ballet on a ship, but they’ve done an opera before at another ship I’ve boarded, so I guess I can’t complain about that. Nice to meet ya’, Liam.”

       With a firm, strong handshake in return, Sherlock plops himself beside William at the bar table, groaning as he realizes that in the process of rescuing the man from his ill-lucked conversation with a completely inconsiderate individual, his pint of half-drunk beer was left unattended and abandoned, as if he’s dumped a poor kitten at the roadside. He waves his hand a little so as to gesture in such a way that he’s too lazy to retrieve it himself, thus the disgruntled bartender takes it upon himself to deliver it to him for a short minute.

       “I’ve gotta say sorry in advance though,” Sherlock sighs, and as his beer safely returns to him, he drinks a little before making a noise in satisfaction. “If we’re gonna be on this ship for a few days, I think he’ll be seeing a lot of you until the end of it all, so if you don’t mind, will it be okay to well….pretend that I’m your boyfriend so that he’d bugger off? You know what they say; an act’s as good as you make one, so – h-hey, don’t look at me like that, I’m not thinking of anything else, honest….!”

       Because Sherlock knows these kinds of people; they may go away once, but they’ll always come back for more when they see an opening, and then something regrettable will happen sooner or later. It wasn’t as if Sherlock was stupid; there were far too many cases that he handled with the same nature, and he certainly didn’t want the same thing to befall William although they had just met a few minutes ago.

       “I’m….ah,” Sherlock says, scratching his head sheepishly, “I’m not gonna do anything out there, promise. It’s just a suggestion; I know that you can hold your own perfectly enough – you’re skilled in martial arts, I can see, with fencing as a bit of your background as well as bare-handed fighting. You’re good with numbers; in fact, it’s your profession, so you can guess the probabilities of whatever happens, I guess. And you’re high-born, although it’s the 21st century and if you were born any earlier, I guess you’d be having loads of old money, but other than that, just take whatever I said as me being worried, that’s all.”

       It’s not very often that he offers to help people personally like this, much less jumping through hoops to put himself in the line of danger for someone he’s just met. And yet, Sherlock finds that he’s running his mouth a little too much in such a short time that he really wonders when the hell would he ever shut up in the most inappropriate of situations.

       “So, um……are you here for the ballet too?” he asks, in a lame, flimsy transition of changing the subject.

       ⌜ ♔ ⌟  —  𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐀 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄 brow had ticked first at the casual nickname he’d been granted and then again at the boldly-made proposition to play house for the long weekend, William knew for full certain that his surprise was visibly plastered across his features at the impressive little display of just what this man— Sherlock, was capable of. 

        “I am,” William answers politely, if not a bit distractedly before touching a crooked finger to his chin in thought as he considered the man in front of him with new eyes. Before he’d merely extended the invitation for courtesy’s sake, if not with a touch of his own desire to distract himself a bit but this certainly changed things. 

        It’d been a good long while since someone had managed to take him off guard quite like this— no, that was a lie. No one had ever extended such rapid-fire observations about himself with such impeccable accuracy and all at once William’s interest was no longer feigned. 

        He smiles again, this time the corners taking a bit of a sharper edge just like the cat lurking about the canary’s gilded cage. “I believe you, Mr. Holmes, though I suppose I must certainly be very lucky to have a detective arriving on the scene to aid me. Not only that...” 

        William tilts his head a bit in faux consideration though his excitement at the dawning prospect of finally having found an equal, “but you have quite the eclectic background don’t you? Chemistry experiments, violin, some rather impressive hand-to-hand experience of your own...” A drug dependence, fascinatingly enough though he keeps the tidbit respectfully to himself for now, “...mm, and an Oxford graduate? How very prestigious though I suppose that that kind of thing doesn’t much matter to you.”

        Almost reluctantly, he tears his gaze from Sherlock’s to motion the griefed bartender over once more for a dry martini and a charming word of thanks that seems to at least so soothe at least some of the indignity of playing beer-fetch. Two hours was plenty of time as far as William was concerned and neither of his brothers would worry about his continued absence so long as he showed up to their box on time for the premiere. 

        His lip quirks a bit at the thought of the ballet, how near it’d been that he declined to go at all for favour of a spell of quiet at the sprawling Durham manor. “Though I’m the same way myself, after all,” William adds a bit more gently, satisfied now that he felt as though he’d made his point. “So it’s rather refreshing to meet someone like you, Mr. Holmes. Like minds are a rare thing, after all, and your offer— while a bit of an unnecessarily arduous solution to my problem— still remains both far more innocent and interesting than anything our dear friend had uttered within the time he plagued me so...”

        Turning once more with all the eagerness of someone who couldn’t quite wait so see just what kinds of events would unravel over the next few days with this man hovering at his side, William gives Sherlock another once over that’s far less of a scan as it is of approving appraisal before meeting his eyes with a coy smirk. 

       “Let’s pull off a con then, shall we, love?”

[wjmoriarty]

holmesed·*

      BEARING WITNESS TO SOMETHING  that was extremely uncomfortable was something that Sherlock didn’t expect on a fine luxury cruise, but that’s exactly the case right at this moment.

      Often, places too had stereotypes of their own, and they would normally be expected to accommodate a certain type and a certain amount of clientele specifically for what they offer, and for what they provide. In Sherlock’s case, he was one of the more glaring anomalies, in where despite being near penniless compared to the lot of them all, it would seem that his ardent love for operas would be a guarantee for him to bust his wallet on his hard savings. And yet, although he expected something like a good show, he certainly didn’t foresee the unwelcome extras into the mix.

      For at the corner of his eye, there was someone being awfully harassed – one would simply wonder if the other party clearly doesn’t know what any nuances of ‘no’ mean, and seeing as the situation wouldn’t get any better, Sherlock abandons his pint of beer, having been freshly served just a precious few minutes ago, to go over to the impeccably dressed blond gentleman’s rescue.

      These things usually work for girls, but he really didn’t know if it worked for guys either. An attempt wouldn’t be too bad, if only because he can easily just explain the entire situation to the other man as soon as everything’s settled, and with his signature cocky demeanor, he does what’s typically a makeshift rescue operation with a single:

      “There you are! I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

      What comes next is a flurry of actions that Sherlock himself did not foresee; him pretending to actually know this guy, him going up against the other in a rather possessive display of a relationship (which was truly nonexistent, to say the least!) being threatened, and him straight out bluffing that the man that has his waist wrapped around with his arm is his boyfriend, and that he’d very much like to know what the hell that guy’s doing disturbing him.

      But on a luxury liner, no one wants to cause the commotion that Sherlock wanted to incite, thus most thankfully, the man backs away, leaving both Sherlock and the blond at the bar counter before Sherlock lets go of his waist, proceeding to profusely apologize for the entire proceedings that could’ve soured his day.

      “Shit, I’m sorry about all that,” Sherlock sighs, looking at the man again once – twice – over, wanting to see if he was at the very least alright. “If he disturbs you again, just let me know, alright? You okay?”

         ⌜ ♔ ⌟  —  𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐄𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑 suddenly takes it upon their gracious self to interject themselves into William’s space with a warm, steady hand at his waist and a far too overly familiar demeanor the moment is immediately transformed into one of those rare instances where William is effectively shocked into silence. 

        So impeccable he typically is with keeping his reactions as he wants them rather than how he feels them. Schooled expressions and pleasant smiles and a gentle brand of charisma all perfectly designed as to never appear waver, never change. Even when cornered by unsettling strangers in an unfamiliar place William had been almost certain that his crawling discomfort had been confined to no more than a tensed jaw and a steadily downcast gaze. 

        William almost starts in protest before immediately cutting himself off and clearing the surprise from his face as the new development in his situation catches up with him. Not only has the man seated next to him at the bar already started a sheepish and somewhat hurried retreat, but the new arrival is already releasing him with one of the most openly apologetic expressions he’s ever seen plastered clear as day across his face.

        “I—” William begins stiltedly, pausing to glance over his apparent saviour with no small bit of approval. A physical improvement by vast leaps and bounds from the bloke who’d just vacated the stool at his side— to William’s objective eye, at least— the newcomer truly seemed nothing but genuinely concerned for William and had at least possessed a rather impressive ability to not only read that something had been dreadfully off from wherever it was he’d come from but hadn’t at all hesitated to act.  

        “I’m fine,” he continues a bit more gently, relaxing for what felt like the first time he’d crossed the threshold of the lounge. He offers the man a small, sincerely grateful smile and neatly recrosses his legs. “Thank you for that, truly. I hadn’t yet quite puzzled out how to shake him myself so it seems you’ve rather saved my evening.”

        William extends a hand in a combination of greeting and gratitude, “William James Moriarty,” he introduces himself simply with another lovely smile before motioning to the seat at his side with a single elegant motion. “Interested at all in joining me for a drink? I figure it’s but the very least I could do to repay you for your efforts here.” 

        Not to mention that drinking alone has all but entirely lost its appeal, goes bitterly and quietly unsaid as he tries to shake the last bits of his earlier discomfort.