Moriarty Brother oneshots

Fred

A/N- How William met Fred

Dusk had fallen upon London. Lamplighters lit up the streets and pubs were filled with men. Those lights could do nothing for the metaphorical shadows that hid in the cracks of the “perfect” British empire.

Walking along the streets was a blond teenager. From his clothes to his manners, he was obviously a noble. He had no reason to look twice at any of those shadows when he lived in the light.

William James Moriarty was wandering aimlessly through the streets of London. He had felt inexplicably stifled in the manor, not because of anything his brothers had done but, still, he needed to be far, far away.

The streets of London were not safe for a young, handsome noble but what very few knew was that the cane he carried was fitted with a blade and he knew the streets even better than most street urchins.

Humming quietly, he went through plans, ideas and thoughts of all kinds. He wasn’t able to do anything about it. Long used to the endless churning of his mind, he distracted himself by observing his surroundings.

It was only his incredibly sharp eye that let him notice the small child huddled into a literal hole in the wall. He had messy, unwashed black hair and sickly pale skin, marred by the bright red flush of fever. His grey eyes were dull, lifeless as he heaved shallow breaths.

There was no one to see William’s actions, no one to question why a noble would help a sickly lower class child. He had no expectations to live up to as he slipped into the alley and knelt in front of the child. From this perspective, he could get a better look at him.

He was as small as a 6 or 7 year old but seemed more likely to be 10 or 11. He also held an intelligence behind those eyes that most wouldn’t notice but William, the 16 year old who was already in university and orchestrated the deaths of not only his adopted family but other rotten nobles, was anything but normal.

“Hello child, what is your name?” He asked, a soft smile on his lips. The child said nothing. He doubled over when a particularly strong coughing fit overtook him and his small frame shook. William furrowed his eyebrows.

He was no doctor but this looked like pneumonia. He took his handkerchief and gently rubbed the dirt from his cheeks. The child watched him with wide eyes as he was treated with gentleness.

“You don’t need to answer my question.” He spoke as he worked. “My name is William James Moriarty. If you would like, I could take you back to my home. You could use the hot water and sleep in one of our guest rooms.”

The child looked visibly unconvinced. William could see he was intelligent and that he needed treatment. He had the perfect way to make him trust him, at least a little. He pulled off his gloves and rolled up his sleeves half way up his forearms.

There was a reason he always wore gloves, his hands were much too rough and the whipping scars on his arms from the real William’s mother were not what you’d find on the skin of a noble.

“I may wear their clothes and have learnt their manners but I am not one of them.” It was a slight gamble, he had given this random child his full name and the knowledge he wasn’t born into the family but he could see that intelligent shine in his eyes. He saw the moment his distrust waned into hesitance.

He didn’t trust him (why would he?) but he might be inclined to accept his help which was all he wanted. The child didn’t speak but nodded his ascent. William smiled encouragingly and helped him up.