lover of mine

The serene silence of the night was interrupted by a strangled gasp, a broken intake of air momentarily cutting through the calm as a figure arose suddenly from their sleeping position, clutching their chest. Scarlet eyes flashed open, disoriented, hauntingly glancing around the room, the man trying to gather his bearings. He felt as if the walls were caving in around him, although the logical part of his brain was aware that those notions were only in his head. But lately, there was little difference between nightmares and consciousness to William.

And that was all that this was— a nightmare. A horrible fragment of his imagination seeping into his dreams and haunting his waking hours. Usually, the myriad of thoughts and emotions was kept tightly at bay in the furthest reaches of his mind, but at night when his defenses were lowered and his being slumbered, they seeped through and poisoned his dreams, his consciousness becoming a prison, caging him in. Faces flashed before his eyes, his own bloody hands, the weight of his own deeds and sins— oftentimes he felt less like a man and more like a whirling swarm of guilt, despair, and nihilty.

He directed his gaze at the ceiling, eyes tracing the veiny cracks weaving over it like spider webs, as his mind churned with thoughts. His soul was screaming out, but no sound seeped out. Power comes in response to a need, not desire. He felt no desire for bloodshed he dished out, found no enjoyment in it, yet he continued to drag himself further into hell, each step heavy as stone but unwavering, preserving what little hope was left at the cost of damning his soul. That was something he needed to do. He even abhorred violence, deeming it an absolute evil. Violence for violence was the rule of beasts, yet most days he felt as if it was the only language he knew how to speak. Maybe before long, he will become just like them, a violent animal of claws and teeth that did not know why it bit, crossing the blurry line of this dark gray area he roamed in and passing the point of no return. 

A minuscule movement and soft rustling of the sheets at his side drew his attention away from his musings. He gazed down at the figure sleeping next to him peacefully, face serene and bathed in moonlight. Shadows splayed over her skin making her look even more ethereal, hair draped over the silky pillowcase forming a halo around her head. An angel— or perhaps divine punishment for his sins. 

She was a being pure and unsullied by the darkness of the world; the darkness in him. Sometimes, he was almost afraid to touch her, in fear of tainting her pristine radiance with his stained hands. The mere fact that a person so far fallen like him was able to bask in the warmth she provided was as cruel as it was bitter-sweet. 

She was an existence that he shouldn't have been able to approach, and the reality of that seemed too harsh and unkind in actuality, yet he often found himself wondering if that was really true, though.

Reaching out to brush away a stray lock of hair from her forehead, he once again contemplated that thought. Maybe fate wasn't evil or cruel for sending him this brilliant shard of light. Perhaps it was actually merciful, providing him with a single taste of heaven— something he thought he had no hope of ever reaching. Maybe it was kind enough to gift him with this momentary reprieve. 

Her brows furrowed in her sleep as his ministrations disturbed her slumber. He slowly drew his hand back as her eyes opened, blissfully unaware of the turmoil in his. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to wake you."

She shook her head and inched ever so closer to him. "Why are you not asleep? You have to teach early tomorrow." Her worried gaze ran over his face. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing." His throat was tight, each word rasping out almost painfully. "I am just... pondering."

She hummed lowly, considering him, then rose to sit next to him, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Hmm, a bad nightmare?" 

He sighed deeply, bone-weary, resting his cheek against her temple. "Don't concern yourself with it. I promise I am fine."

She let out another hum, and he knew what she was attempting, yet he was too weak to refuse her. She gently cradled his hands in her lap from where they'd been clutching the sheets and started tracing little patterns with her thumbs over them. "Tell me about it"

A small wry tilting of his lips, too fleeting to be called a smile, accompanied her actions. Exactly as he predicted. She knew precisely what to do to get him to talk. And that was no fault of hers, for he always acquiesced and yielded to her wants. "When I put my life into perspective, and all of my sins and crimes I committed, you are the one singular decision in it that I think I made right."

Her hands paused their movements and her gaze flew to his face, confused and slightly vexed. "What do you mean?"

Her face was so sincere, so unwaveringly loving, that he was barely able to endure the depth of her gaze. Yet he was unable to tear his eyes away from hers as the words spilled from his trembling lips. "My only right choice was meeting you, despite all of my wrongdoings. But your place is not with me, in the shadows. You should be out under the sun, never touched by our darkness."

Her brows furrowed once again, this time more severely, and he observed her face becoming even more confused and irked. "William you are talking nonsense." She clutched his hands tighter. "I chose you, William. Promised to be by your side through the good and the bad. No one else. You"

Another piece of his soul bloomed and withered away with her words, leaving its rot embedded deep in his chest. He slowly rose one hand from her grip to rest it gently on her cheek. "How I wish I could've loved you under different circumstances."

"Stop that!" she protested, shock subsiding, replaced with indignation. "You fight for equality. You are noble. You are not evi—"

"There is nothing noble about what I do." The look he gave her was cold and mournful, closed off. Any semblance of warmth leeched out of it. "Taking someone's life— even for a greater cause— is never justice." Dropping his hand from her face, he inched away from her, pulling away as the thick walls he usually built to keep these thoughts away crumbled in her presence. As he confessed to her the depths of his despair. "I never told you this before, but I plan to die." He didn't know if saying these words was a weight off his chest, or the last nail in his proverbial coffin. "I plan to atone with my death, to disappear as the last blight on society. To end the great evil that the masses depict me to be."

"Don't you dare!" Her words were a shocked gasp. And suddenly she understood— he saw it in her eyes that she did. She saw his guilt. Guilt, and grief, and resentment, and loathing. An inescapable torment weighing him down, trapping him, crushing him under the immense pressure of his deeds. A bottomless pit pulling him into its depths of despair. She understood why he condemned wrongdoings so harshly, why he mourned the loss of life. There was probably no one who valued human life more than him, yet was forced to extinguish it to save the majority. And he saw her terror. He saw her grief, her anguish, her heartbreak. 

With a sob, she threw herself in his embrace. She was shaking, trembling in his arms, and his chest caved in knowing he was the cause of her pain. Her plea was a broken whisper. "Don't you dare, William. Not like... that. Never like that. Remember our deal: Where you go, I go. If you die, I'll follow, since there is no me without you."

His mouth opened to protest, to refute her argument, to undoubtedly say something akin to her life holding more value than his, but she halted him with a firm grip on his shoulders. "Promise me!"

Her eyes were boring into his, and once again he found himself rendered speechless and unable to resist her. "I promise I won't." The falsehood tasted like ash on his tongue, and not for the first time he wanted to cut the lying appendage off. What good did it serve him if it only knew treachery and deceit? If it would only bring her more pain.

Her trembling hands wound around his figure as she hugged him tightly once again. "You are everything to me, William. I don't know what I would do without you. Please... Please never say something like that again."

A shuddering breath left his lips and he leaned completely into her, resting his head in the crook of her neck, feeling incredibly worn out and frail. "How do you not condemn me?"

Her hands slowly made their way up to brush through his hair, so achingly gentle. He couldn't remember when the last time that he'd been touched so lovingly was. Couldn't remember if he'd ever been before meeting her. "I love you, William, the broken parts and everything. Stained hands or not. I have always vowed to stay by your side. No matter how much our souls are tainted, we will spend the rest of our lives atoning for it— together. After all, is it better to just be born good or to achieve goodness through your own effort?"

She leaned back to smile at him, then brushed a soft kiss against his lips, still trembling from the onslaught of his raging inferno inside him. "Hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone. Use the pain as a motive to continue forward. You will heal and you'll rise above it all."

Oh, she was so cruel, unintentionally so. Her sincerity was like bitter wine down his throat or a poison slowly making its way through his bloodstream. The simple fact that she truly believed there was any chance of redemption for him hurt more than death by a thousand papercuts. "I was correct." His hand lightly traced her cheek once again. Every word was a wound slowly bleeding out, draining his strength with it. "I really do not deserve you."

She shook her head, somber once again. "Stop saying that. I can't think of a man more worthy of my love and redemption." 

Darkness without light was an abyss. Light without darkness was blinding. You could not have a coin with only one side. Maybe they were like that. She was his perfect antithesis, his other side. The one that would grab and pull him out of the bottomless abyss of living hell, and he was the one that would ground her and shield her from flying too close to the sun. She would provide warmth to thaw away his frost, and he would keep her fire from burning out too fast. He only hoped he would be around long enough for her to not need him anymore. He hoped she wouldn't be too furious with him after he'd perished. What was another broken promise added to his ever-growing list of sins?

Because he couldn't stay with her in the light. She was still so incredibly radiant, not as far gone as he was. He knew that only the dead have seen the end of war. And that has always been his plan from the beginning. For how could he, a sinner as vile as the ones he was ridding the world of so diligently, be allowed to live in this new pristine world he was trying to create? How could she still see something good in him when he was the biggest evil that had to be eradicated? His fate has been set in stone since the first day he took Albert's hand, maybe even before that, yet with every new day he found his resolve on that matter wavering more and more. With each kiss from her; with every touch; with every love-filled glance— she made his icy determination crumble under her warm light. He was nothing but a coward wearing the face of a revolutionary, desperately clinging to life— to her— when he knew he couldn't. But for her, he almost thought it was worth it to live.

Sometimes he felt as if he could feel time moving, slipping through his fingers, and that dreaded moment of judgment creeping up closer and closer behind him, breathing down his neck. A walking dead man— that's what he was. The person currently cradling her, whispering sweet lies and false promises, was just his shell, a ticking time bomb or a lit candle only waiting for its fuse to burn out. That is precisely why he said nothing more as she urged him to go back to sleep once again. Said nothing as she draped the covers over them. Said nothing as the stifling silence threatened to pull him under once again. 

He would not be sleeping tonight, although she did not need to know that.

if you ever had to give a mathematician a gift, a set of hagoromo chalk would be the perfect choice. known as the "rolls royce" of chalks, the "steinway" of writing tools, hagoromo is a luxury that many would go to great lengths to obtain. the same chalks that turn every mastermind into old folks fighting for the last fish. it's feather-smooth writing, even a mathematician transforms into an artist, the blackboard becoming their canvas.

that was exactly what you were planning on buying for your professor. you’d often notice how he relied on the university’s cheap chalk, constantly wiping his hands to rid them of chalk dust. you’d watch his expensive vest get coated by the fine powder, almost resembling a sugar doughnut.

you’d even gone as far as offering to clean the board after class—it just didn’t seem fair for your professor to teach for hours and then clean up the mess. determined to make a change, you resolved to buy him a set of hagoromo chalks. you spent months saving up every bit of your pocket money, but even the smallest set was beyond your budget.

“why are we in the market in this blazing heat?” your best friend alvin leroy groaned

“it will be quick! i just need to buy a nice cloth and some hagoromo chalks!”, you replied, pulling him closer to avoid losing him in the crowd.

“wait hold on- did i hear you say hagoromo chalks? why on earth would you need that?” alvin stopped dead in his tracks.

you looked back at your friend’s confused face. he proceeds to drag you both away from the bustling crowd, into a quieter corner of the market. you looked up to alvin who stood firm as a statue, clearly not planning to move until you confessed. with a sigh, you lowered your head, finding comfort in staring at your shoes.

“i want to buy it for.. professor….. william”, you muttered under your breath 

“professor william?!” alvin nearly shouted before you clapped a hand over his mouth in panic.

“don’t shout it out loud! urgh why did i bring you?”, you retracted back your hand 

wait... don’t tell me you have a crush on professor william? no way, [name]! you? crushing on professor will—hey, wait up!”

you bolted away, your face flushed as you tried to hide your embarrassment. for the rest of the day, alvin declared himself the “captain” of his newfound ship, teasing you relentlessly until you finally parted ways. the next day, he was waiting for you with a... board?

“alvin what are you doing??”, you shouted as you ran over and pushed the board down.

“i’m having a voting poll on my ship name! i’m debating between will[name] and [name]liam!”, alvin grinned, folding the board back into his bag. 

“i don’t like him that way”, you grumbled, throwing the nastiest side eye on him 

despite this antics, alvin's smile didn’t hold the same meaning. there was a hint of something else behind it. deep in his heart, resentment began to spread as he let you drag him into the classroom.

even during your maths class, you weren’t left in peace. your professor walked in with his neatly pressed coat draped casually over his arm, which he placed on his chair. he looked around the empty hall, spotting you and alvin seated at the front.

“i never thought i’d see mr. leroy arrive on time," william joked, pulling down the extra blackboard.

“hey!- oh professor, [name] has something”, alvin nudged you with a not-so-subtle grin

“[last name]? how can i assist you? having trouble with yesterday’s theorem?” william asked, setting his board at last 

he turned to face you both, his expression patient but with a hint of curiosity. he slowly walked closer to your seat, standing not too far from you. alvin gently pulled your chair back and gave you a small pat. you turned over to the boy and wished to slap off the wide smirk he showed 

“professor moriarty... i’ve noticed how you often leave with a rather... dusty coat,” you began softly as you stood up 

“i thought it was unfair for you to put in so much time to teach us- especially alvin”, you snickered remembering his test score 

“hey—” 

“i decided to buy some new chalks for you! it’s pretty popular amongst mathematicians”, you continued 

taking a closer step, you could smell his woody perfume, tinged with a hint of citrus. never in a million years did you expect to stand this close. alvin’s voice died down, watching the subtle tension and nerve you held to yourself 

you presented your professor a neatly wrapped cloth with his name engraved. william’s usually sharp and calculating eyes soften by the gesture. he took the gift from your hand to carefully feel the soft cloth. 

“thank you [last name]. it was rather unexpected but i am flattered”, william’s voice portrayed his genuine gratitude 

the rest of the day went on as normal. students rush into the class feeling dreadful but are left with joy after william promises not to give any homework. later that evening, william walks back to the moriarty estate feeling happier than before 

“you look like you outwitted sherlock holmes” albert welcomed his brother with a sip from his glass 

louis glanced up to see his brother indeed looked in a good mood. he watches william settle his satchel down on a nearby sofa before he sits himself. his lips created a small smile as he looked back at albert. he pulls out the small present he receives, letting it rest on the table in front 

“one of my students gave me a set of chalks as a gift for always coming home like a baker” " william replied with his rare gentle humour 

“that is rather…” 

“considerate. you don’t often see students go out of their way like that” " albert finished louis’s hanging sentence 

louis leaned forward, wanting to see more of the chalk. adding a small comment on the expensive gift, he questioned his brother about the owner. even albert expressed a wide-eyed smile, listening to william refusing to reveal your name 

while on the other hand, alvin stared at the ceiling of his dorm, replaying the events of the day. a heavy heart is what he would describe his feelings. he tried brushing off his obvious feelings of jealousy. he needed to ensure his ‘ship’ wasn’t sailing too fast, even if he was the ‘captain’. 

surprise detective - boarding a train and solving a case with your professor? (f!reader)

warning: none

note: here is the final part! apologies for the delay! i had way to many things on my plate

you suddenly felt teary eyed and disgusted. the professor who you developed a small crush and huge respect for, did all that? you knew he did that to speed up the process but that didn’t make it any better. tampering with evidence was something serious. you muffled your sounds by covering your mouth and just stood there in shock. 

the train had finally reached its destination and it was time to part ways with everyone. you conversed with john, who you learnt was very passionate about writing. sherlock was bidding his goodbyes with william and louis. 

“well well, looks like [name] is coming with us”, sherlock interrupted, slinging his arm on your shoulder 

“i have something to attend and consequently it had to be the same way as you” you groaned 

“i hope the trip was memorable miss [name]”, william spoke 

“thank you for teaching professor moriarty”

you said without making eye contact with him. you looked down at your shoes before turning on your heels and walking near john to reconverse. you had to get the thoughts off your mind. it scared you how your professor had two personalities and now you even had proof 

the three of you walked away as sherlock began eating your ears off about one of his adventures. you didn’t dare to turn back but you could feel a pair of scarlet eyes staring at your figure as you walked away. you were going to get to the bottom of this for sure. you have to find out who the real william james moriarty is. once you were clear of sight, william looked over to his brother, who seemed to share the same thought 

“miss [name] seemed rather off during the entire event”, louis commented 

“you’re right. it surprises me. she is my most beloved student because of her talkative behaviour”, william sighed watching you leave 

“first sherlock now miss [name]”, louis whispered to himself 

“would you like to keep tabs on her brother?”, louis shaped himself and coughed away his thought 

“that would be great. keep a close eye on her. i wouldn’t want my favourite student to question me”, william replied 

“question?”, louis asked 

“she’s suspecting us. [name] is a smart girl when it comes to putting the pieces together. i’m very sure she figured out the entire case before mr holmes and i could process”, william replied 

“but brother! she left the scene before you could even explain!”, louis stood in shock 

“the bottle of whiskey was all she needed louis. which is why she’s my favourite. i’ve never seen a student who would sneak in a murder mystery book in a maths class.. i didn’t expect any less”, william continued

“she’ll figure us out one day. i know she will”, william said and strolled slowly

“even her reflexes are strong” louis recalled how you were the first to respond to the cry 

“ah, maybe it got better from all the times i called her out when she hid her murder mystery book behind her textbook”, william joked 

“keep an eye on her louis. i don’t want [name] to hurt herself as she indulges at a new mystery”, william returned to his normal tone 

“you seem to care a lot about her brother”, louis suspiciously asked

“well,.. she is my darling student and i rather she doesn’t distance herself from me”

with that william let the conversation about you die down. a smile ghosted his face as the two of them stolled away. louis made a mental note to tell albert about you as he had never seen someone catching the attention of his brother so much to the point he’d refer you as his ‘darling student’ 

‘brother albert is going to love hearing this’, louis laughed at his own thought 

“something funny louis?”

“nothing brother.. nothing at all”

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator

surprise detective - boarding a train and solving a case with your professor? (f!reader)

warning: none

note: final part is coming

you couldn’t help but feel as if something was odd. the fake gestures to look like he was thinking to the answers he gave, it didn’t sound right. the men left the cabin and split ways. you quickly moved behind to hide yourself from the view of your professor talking to the same crewman you were talking to 

“i think i will go about it another way by putting together a psychological profile of the killer’s mind”, you professor explained to his brother

what….? did you hear that right? no no you must be dreaming. you shook your head and watched the duo leave the scene. your professor was going to put a psychological profile of the killer’s mind? why would he do such a thing! wasn’t he supposed to solve a case since he was challenging sherlock holmes 

you quietly followed the moriarty brothers who settled to sit down and discuss the matter about the scene. what shocked you was how your professor was going in detail about what sherlock would expect, almost like he planned the murder himself. 

“i need to meet with each one as there’s something i must do first. just to be sure”, william said to louis 

‘sure? sure of what? what is even going on?’, you mentally questioned watching the colour of the sky changing 

soon, everyone was asked to gather at a room where the police had watson close to them. they were prepared to handcuff him. you gave him a small smile hoping to hear from him to which he gestured the same.

sherlock being the so-called ‘main character’ sat on the table and explained whatever he found and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the way he could casually address your professor. you stood rather far away from the both moriarty brothers after overhearing their conversation. you examined your professor’s smile as he watched sherlock explain. 

“the killer is one of the crewmen”, sherlock concluded glancing at them 

he shortened the list by calling the crewmen based on descriptions he brought up. a glassed crewman wa instructed to open his hands to which he hesitated before opening it and the red stains tainted his white glove 

“someone call a tv show”, you mumble watching 

“i got hurt!”, he justified and took off his gloves with a smirk catching everyone off guard 

well, almost everyone. you looked over to your professor who was calm as if it wasn’t his first time dealing with this. you shuddered at how he casually walked over to him. his scarlet eyes examining the man and a small smile formed along, almost like he was sure of it 

“tell me, how did you have blood fly up onto your eyeglasses?”, he questioned 

huh? how did he even catch that? you took a step closer and squinted your eyes to the tiny detail your professor pulled out. no ordinary human would be able to point out such a detail yet here is your professor, casually asking as if it was the most normal question in the world 

you looked over to sherlock and wasn’t surprised at how baffled he looked at the scene while louis had the complete opposite reaction. just what secrets are there in the moriarty family? why are the brothers so calm about this while everyone’s banging their heads over this new profound evidence. 

“good. we arrived at grantham in three minutes. we made it in time, mr holmes”, william concluded reading the time from his watch 

“liam, you rascal… you’re even better at bluffing than i am, aren’t you?”, sherlock asked smirking 

“well, we’ll excuse ourselves now”, william said as you watch him leave with louis 

“yeah, let’s grab something to eat sometime”, sherlock dismissed 

you watched as the duo left the room. sherlock looked over to you and looked rather puzzled at your reaction. you wouldn’t lie, after hearing the conversation your professor had with his brother, you couldn’t help but feel a bit uneasy around them. 

“aren’t you running after your professor? i thought you were glued to him”, sherlock jokes 

“yeah.. i’ll take my leave too”, you dryly responded leaving the room 

you closed the door and stood, using it as a way to not let your knees fall weak. you had suspicions over the blood on the glasses. in your opinion, it was simply impossible for someone to just point out such a detail. it must be planned beforehand but you don’t want to question your professor. you trusted him too much. he wouldn’t.. right? 

“yes, well it was my blood”, you froze hearing that line from a familiar person 

did he not realize that you weren’t too far away to hear that? how could he openly say such a thing but him saying that only proved your suspiciousness even more. it all made sense now, or else how would he be able to point out that evidence. it was all staged. you shudder after concluding that your professor wasn’t who you thought he was. no no, he was way different that what you imagined  

everything was piecing together now. it made sense why he called and met every single crew worker on board. he had planted his blood on them in various places. you couldn’t make out their conversation as they stopped further away, disappearing from your sight 

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator

surprise detective - boarding a train and solving a case with your professor? (f!reader)

warning: murder of a person (if that counts)

note: part three coming soon <33

“holmes, who are these people?”, the man questioned

“the moriarty family’s second son, william, and his adoptive younger brother louis. you can just ignore the lady over there- ow!”, you kicked sherlock under the table when he said that

“fine, fine! she’s [name]. a student of william” sherlock rolled his eyes, almost making you kick him again had your professor not been beside you 

“please excuse my interruption. lestrade of scotland yard, at your service”, the man introduced 

“you are? i have heard so much about you-”

your professor was cut off by an ugly scream of a woman. alerted, you quickly looked back and got up on your feet and sprinted towards the sound. as you reached, a brown haired woman look like she had seen a ghost 

“what’s wrong?’, you asked examining her pale face 

the pale woman explained about hearing a loud sound from the neighbouring compartment ago. she came to see what the matter was before she cut herself off and pointed to the door window. you took it upon yourself and peeked through the window. a dead man with blood splattered everywhere making you want to gag in disgust. 

“oh god you guys do not wanna see the drama behind this door”, you were grossed out, stepping back for sherlock to have a look too 

“it’s locked”, the man from before exclaimed 

“no shit sherlock- no wait that sounded bad”, you realised, choosing to keep quiet 

 “yeah, he’s dead. have a look”, sherlock gestured to your professor who confirmed it to be a murder 

“so, liam, you have nothing to do before we reach london, do you? shall we have a contest to see who can find the culprit first?”, sherlock challenged the blonde man 

“very well. this might be interesting”, william cut off lestrade 

as your professor continued by talking about how complicated the case was, a man appeared behind sherlock with a face of pure shock. his coat was stained with blood and he clenched his right hand to the spot. before any questioning, the transport police arrive at the scene and you soon learnt that he was dr john h. watson. 

you felt a tug on your sleeve that took you a few steps backwards to stand behind louis despite being so invested in the drama. you looked over to see that your professor had pulled you back. of course he did, he always did care about his students wellbeing and this was something that flared your heart even more. you could hear louis whisper to his brother to not interfere with the incident to which william reassured as an innocent life was being tainted with a murder title. 

“i will give it my all to ensure that the moriarty name is not put to shame”, william said 

“then it’s a contest to see who can deliver the culprit first!”, sherlock cheered 

‘this isn’t a game’ the sane people in the room shared the same thought 

“wow this sounds fun! well professor moriarty, i shall not ruin your fun. it was lovely talking to you and i can’t wait to see you again in class!”, you bid trying to leave the stuffy environment 

“woah woah not so fast. you’re in this game too! you think i don't know you? your brother and i are old buddies so i gotta see if his smartness also applies to you. not that it actually did- owh again?!”, sherlock groaned as you elbowed his stomach 

“no thank you! i am not a detective!”, you stated almost taking your leave 

“i think it would be a great learning experience miss [name]. outside of classroom learning can benefit a lot”, william spoke 

“right… like i’m gonna find the theta of the dead body”, you muttered to which louis let out a small chuckle 

“let’s get to work”, sherlock said as he picked the lock to enter the cabin 

“is this the moment where we have to look smart?”, you whispered to no one as you watched the two men stare without moving 

sherlock began his investigation. he concluded that the dead man was a jeweller from london. you didn’t quite give a lot of attention to what he was saying as you were too busy staring at the whisky bottle discarded. where have you seen that?

“a drugged-robbery? then this is not just an ordinary murder??”, lestrade exclaimed 

“unmistakably”, william resting his left hand on his chin 

“isn’t that obvious?”, sherlock added 

“clearer that my future if you ask me”, you commented to the man 

sherlock went on to explain about the shoe prints. to which lestrade raised the question as to how he knew which print belonged to who? sherlock swiftly replied and pointed at william and your shoes 

“look at the shoes of the maths professor and student from durham university”, sherlock pointed out 

“yes. it was raining in durham”, william referred to the mud on both pairs of shoes 

your professor continued talking about how the weather cleared at their stop in yolk. he then picked up the same whisky bottle you were staring at. he continued explaining things you simply tuned out and got up from the scene. quietly you walked out and louis looked at you in confusion 

“figured it out miss [name]?”, louis asked 

“something like that”, you lied and flashed a small smile before leaving 

but you didn’t leave the scene. you stood not too far from the cabin talking to one of the crew members. simple conversations and handshakes now and then taught you many things. you were standing because of your professor. 

© seungsuki 2024-25 -- do not repost, translate, alter, etc on any platform without permission. Any characters used in my work do not belong to me, they are created by their original creator

Isekai’d Into Moriarty The Patriot | Chapter One

Moriarty The Patriot x Reader

Before reading, revert to this post >>  https://at.tumblr.com/syerane/updates-on-the-moriarty-isekai-i-wrote/ee6o2ztpc010

This isn’t proofread. :|

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You were currently on vacation in Europe and riding in the Eurostar Train that ran from Paris to London. London was your stop after a long day in France; and naturally, you were tired. As the Eurostar went under the English Channel, your eyes began to droop. You tried your hardest to stay awake, looking at the shimmering, cerulean sea outside the train. 

When you finally gave into your tired state, a loud bang and the rumbling of the train jolted you awake. You looked around with the same confusion the other passengers had. Another piercing sound resonated in your ears- the sound of cracking glass. You immediately looked to the window where a large crack formed. A woman screamed. You promptly got out of your seat and stepped away from the window. You thought these trains were safe. Was the water pressure too much for the train?

An announcement came through the intercom telling the passengers to remain calm. Cracks began to branch off the main line. Parents were trying to calm their crying children. Women were trying to console their anxious husbands, and men were trying to calm their frightened wives. One girl pulled out her phone to call her friends. A guy pulled him out to record a video.

A man bumped into you which jolted you into the side of a leather seat. He left urgently, not saying anything to you. More and more people ran down the middle aisle, pushing you to the side, all traveling to a different section of the train. You tried to make your own way into the flow of chaos. The pit in your stomach increased as you couldn’t conjure enough strength to force your way in.

The cracks became more and more- so did the screams. Your voice was mixed into the air, and finally everything burst. Time didn’t slow as you would think it would. No, the water came in swiftly- there wasn’t enough time, there never was. The water was a tsunami and you were pushed into it. When your head slammed against a table, you blacked out.

There was silence, and there was void. You opened your eyes and the world was still dark; yet, there was a shimmer in the distance- gold and silver, red and blue.

You reached out, and you awoke with a gasp, coughing up water.

“Are you alright, Madam?” A man’s voice called out. He had his hand pressed against your back.

You blinked your eyes. The floor was made of gray carpet. A darkened spot was before you indicating where you had hurled water. You squeezed your eyes tightly before opening them again to the world. A sharp pain pounded against your temple. You looked around, adjusting to the light. You were on a train, but it wasn’t the Eurostar. It seemed more old fashioned: the seats were made of a red cushion, a white tablecloth spread over the tables, the only lights were the old lamps that hang from the ceiling, and a loud rumble of the train exhausting itself was heard through the walls.

You had stood up from your seat, confused, “Is this Heaven?”

The man who stood next to you chuckled. He stepped back, “Our staff is gracious for the compliment.”

You got a good look at the man. He wore a black suit with white gloves. He was a waiter.

You blushed in embarrassment, “Oh, um- thanks. Where am I, again. I kind of forgot?”

A worried look crossed the man’s face as you began to talk. “You are on the train to London, we have just passed through York not too long ago.”

“What the-” You began, before you looked down noticing the dress you were wearing. It had a white blouse with a collared neckline. The shoulders were puffy and it had the style of lantern sleeves for the rest of the arm. Attached to the blouse was a dark green colored skirt that was high-waisted and ran to the floor. The dress was very conservative and even more old-fashioned- as if it was from the Victorian era.

Your complexion turned red. You felt many pairs of eyes on you. You would never wear a dress like this in public; in some cases, you wouldn’t where a dress at all, let alone one that would call so much attention to yourself. This was so out-of-style you had no idea where you would even be able to buy a dress such as this. This raised the question, when did you even put on the dress?

“Ma’am? Are you well?”

“Wha-?” You squeaked. The waiter was talking to you, again.

“Are you well?” He repeated. “I believe it would do you good to have a seat.” “Oh, I guess” You awkwardly replied, before sitting down. This was such a weird day.

“Would you be interested in some water?” The waiter asked.

You thought to yourself for a moment, “Yeah, some water sounds nice.”

The waiter nodded before rushing off, leaving you alone.

“Ugh, finally,” you groaned, before resting your head on the table in front of you. Where were you? Weren’t you just drowning a while ago? Where’d all the people who were on the train with you go? Why were you in a dress? Just a while ago, you had a sweatshirt and pants on. Did someone change you without your knowledge? (That’s a disturbing thought to come to reality.)

You heard footsteps walk up to you. You figured it was that super proper waiter with your water. (Looking back, you’ve had a lot of water already today.) You kept your head down, maybe the waiter knew you had a rough day. Hopefully he would just set down your cup.

“Excuse my manners, but I was watching your earlier interaction with the waiter. Are you in need of assistance, Miss?” A silky voice asked you. It was as sweet as honey to your ears, something you could fall asleep too.

“You could say that,” You chuckled, picking your head up off the table to look at the male talking to you. “It’s been a rough da-”

The man before you, you knew him. Golden hair, ruby eyes, long strands that framed his face which enhanced his sharp jawline, silky skin. If you didn’t curse, this was the time to. This man didn’t exist outside of your device.

William James Moriarty.

He was the protagonist of the anime Moriarty the Patriot, the Lord of Crime. There was no way you were actually seeing him.

“It seems as though you have a deep recognition of me,” He stated. A soft smile laced his face, “I make it my duty to remember all the people I meet. If it is alright, may I inquire as to how you might know me?”

“Uh- um,” you stumbled on your words. Quite frankly, you were flabbergasted. What were you supposed to say?

“If you would like, I would gladly offer you a seat to join me and my brother for supper” He stated, moving to the side to show you where he was sitting.

Behind him, staring daggers at you with eyes that tried to reveal every secret a person could hide, was Louis Moriarty. What the hell was happening today?

You could only nod with your mouth agape. You looked back and forth from the Moriarty brother’s so much that you got dizzy.

William politely smiled at you, folding his hands over each other, patiently waiting for your response.

After an awkwardly long amount of time, you realized that he was waiting for you to say something. “Oh! Sorry for not responding, my mind is going one hundred miles a minute. I’m Y/N, by the way,” you shot out your hand over the table. “Y/N L/N.”

William raised an eyebrow at your outstretched hand. Your clothes indicated upper class but your greeting was one of the lower class, if not one of a foreign country. It was common etiquette for men to shake hands and while handshaking between opposite sex could only be initiated by a women, it was more respectful and a highly common practice for the hand to be kissed during greeting, especially in the upper class. Your oddities had already begun to intrigue him. He took your hand and shook it.

“So, I’m assuming you’re cosplaying?” You began, “It’s a very good outfit! I’m impressed!”

“I am sorry, I don’t believe I am following,” William replied, “Cosplaying?”

“What?” you questioned, “Y’know, like from Moriarty the Patriot? You’re William James Moriarty, right?”

“Yes, I am him,” William stated. “One could call our family quite patriotic. We do support the advancement of our country.”

You laughed awkwardly. Did this dude not know what cosplaying was because he was doing it perfectly. Unless he was the real William Moriarty- which can’t happen, unless you were dead, in which you wouldn’t have had a headache, so that can’t be true.

“The anime, you’re cosplaying a guy from an anime. The one with Sherlock Holmes? You’re Moriarty,” You asked, giving your last try to get this guy to confess his cosplaying secrets.

“How do you know Sherlock Holmes?” Louis Moriarty asked. (His cosplay was incredibly good too!)

“I have never heard of this ‘anime’ or ‘cosplaying’ verbiage you are talking about. My apologies,” William said.

You stopped for a second, brain rebooting. There was absolutely no way this was actually the real William James Moriarty! You looked around the train, it did look exactly like a scene in the anime.

“‘The Two Detectives’ was the name, was it?” You mumbled to yourself. It was hard to think with these two men staring at you. However, you couldn’t blame yourself, they were very “nice-looking,” to say it lightly.

You put both your hands on the table in front of you and narrowed your eyes at the William in front of you, “If you’re the real William James Moriarty, what’s your real name?”

A tense silence filled the room. William Moriarty kept his polite smile, but his eyes didn’t hold the same joy. Unbeknownst to you, Louis moved his hand toward his knife.

“It has always been William,” he said.

You rolled your eyes with a naïve laugh. This was the question of the century that you could get answered if this really was William James Moriarty! You brought your hand up to make your excited point, “No, like before the actual William Moriarty di-”

William’s hand caught your wrist in a split second shutting you up. He tightened his hand around your wrist. He kept his polite smile, but the pressure he put on your hand told a different story.

“Who are you?” He asked. There was an undertone that the passersby would never catch; one more eerie and demanding than what was heard.

Three years. It had been three years, since the...incident. And I moved on, at least that's what told myself. Louis, the rest of the gang and me had comitted ourself to the MI6. We found something to fullfill our purpose, to atone for our sins. To make it worth, all of what we did...what William did.

Well, everyone of us, except for Sebastian, my brother. He had also been gone for three years. I searched for him, I did everything possible to find him, but it was like he was dead. I just couldn't find him. And it broke my heart. William wouldn't want him to do this to himself. He sacrificed himself, so that we could live, so that we could carry on his legacy.