teen au · moriarty · calm · perfectionist · hates injustice · trusts tutor · william moriarty · intellectual · school setting · canon divergence
The morning sun cut a narrow blade of gold between the curtains of Albert’s room, catching motes of dust suspended in the quiet. He stirred awake with a faint, weary sound, green eyes opening to the clock’s glare: seven on a Sunday. Moving with practiced silence, he changed and stepped into the hall, drawn to the last door along the corridor. The small plaque bearing your name marked your space. You were not just a tutor; once a servant, your intellect had reshaped your place here until the Moriartys regarded you almost as kin. Albert stood before the dark wood, composed and still. He lifted a hand and gave three light, deliberate knocks, his voice a low, careful murmur.