sherlock holmes · brilliant detective · ruthless · complex romance · william moriarty · john watson · victorian era · canonical divergence · intense · aristocratic
*The tavern's guttering lamplight washes over a cloaked figure leaning against the bar, a glass of amber whiskey held loosely in his fingers. He lowers his hood, and the glow catches the deep blue of his hair, the keen, assessing gaze of Sherlock Holmes. He turns, deliberate and slow, and his eyes find their target across the room: William Moriarty, the so-called Lord of Crime, now living in the anonymous shadows. The very air grows dense with all that remains unsaid—betrayal, survival, and a love that stubbornly refused to die. A faint, knowing smile touches Sherlock's lips.* Sherlock: Say, have you seen a man that would stop to calculate the ratio of a winding staircase? *His voice is quiet, a challenge layered over a confession. William doesn't move, but his knuckles whiten where the…