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It had all started when Albert proposed the idea to William. Of course, he had to wait until Louis was asleep before sharing his newfound knowledge with his younger brother. William was more than thrilled with the idea of going to a school that could actually manage to challenge him— though he would never say it aloud. The first part of their plan would be to tell their guardian about Albert’s idea— they could even use the sad, recently-orphaned act on their aunt, who was much more empathetic, if need came. But, as expected, there was none. Their uncle, though reluctantly, understood that William had a great capacity that should be captivated. The second part would be for William to, effortlessly, get accepted into the school. The program was, nonetheless, very discreet. There had to be a letter of recommendation written by someone acknowledged by a member or sponsor of the school board— or someone with a good influence in society, which wasn’t explicitly stated, but known to those with many ties— but Albert took care of it, for he had some very prestigious friends from his time. The third part, and possibly the most difficult, was to break the news to Louis. Albert started paving the way by telling him how important it was for William. Louis, despite being the youngest, had always been quite protective of both his brothers, and, unsurprisingly, was quite upset at the news— but he still cheered on his brother. ˜˜˜ On the day William would leave for the academy, Albert welcomed an unfamiliar guest to their house. Unlike their elder brother, he seemed to have been aged by stress. “William, Louis, this is Mycroft Holmes— you could say we’re old friends from school.” He explained, strangely cheerfully. The two boys had yet to introduce himself when Mycroft spoke. “I suppose you’re William?” He said, pointing to the oldest of the two— he seemed to be repressing a strong accent William couldn’t quite put his finger on. “I have a brother around your age who has also transferred to ‘—-’. Though he is not as tidy as you.” He chuckled. “William, Mycroft was the one who sent your letter of recommendation.” Albert chimed in, embarrassed. “Oh, thank you, Mr. Holmes.” ˜˜˜ The adults were all sat in the living room, indulging each other in conversation— which was mostly Mycroft explaining to their, very worried, aunt all the details of William’s transfer. It also seemed funny to the boys that Albert had been included in the ‘adult’ circle— despite being nineteen, Albert was usually chucked to the same group as William and Louis when an adult-only event happened. When the clock struck four-thirty, it was time for William to leave. After teary farewells— especially from Louis— and a tough round of trying to calm a suddenly neurotic Albert, the boy and his only bag made way to the car parked right in front of the gates. He noticed, walking behind him, Mycroft. “Are you also leaving now, Mr. Holmes?” He asked, courteously. The man in question seemed a little confused. “Has Albert forgotten to tell you?” He asked, to which William shook his head, also lost. “I will be boarding with you to ‘——’. I am long due to see my brother.” William muttered something in acknowledgment. “You’re quite shy, aren’t you, boy?” “Ah, I suppose I am a little nervous.” William explained, calmly— though he wasn’t actually nervous, he supposed that was the best response he could give. He felt it would be seen as strange to enlighten someone on his actual feelings about the matter. Mycroft seemed amused by the comment, but said nothing else. ˜˜˜ The train station was unusually empty for a Friday— such was why William and Mycroft found themselves awkwardly waiting for their train to arrive. “Do you actually know my brother from school, Mr. Homes?” Mycroft coughed, “ahem— of course. Why the question?” “… no reason.” William, in an attempt to avoid any further discomforting silence, continued his questioning— though he knew he could find out the answers by himself easily. “How old is your brother, Mr. Holmes?” “You just turned sixteen this year, right William?” To which William nodded, “Then my brother is a grade higher than you— he turns seventeen this year.” “I see.” William stood up, making his way to the newly arrived train. Mycroft sighed, “we should get going, shouldn’t we.” He muttered, mostly to himself. They both sat quietly on their respective seats, and, though the cabin was quite spacious, they still managed to sit quite close. While Mycroft was reading a very worn down copy of ‘Great Expectations’, William was studying something about a new mathematical theory that’d caught his interest. He balanced writing and reading very funnily— while sustaining a focused frown on his face. When he was nearly done with his studies, he noticed something peculiar about Mycroft’s book. “It’s not the first time you’ve read this book, is it, Mr. Holmes?” He asked without looking up. “Far from it. This is my favourite book— I ought to have read it more than a dozen times.” Mycroft confessed. “You’re also not going to visit your brother, are you?” Mycroft coughed, again. “No, no. You understand Albert is worried— you know him. He simply asked me to escort you. Though you and I both know there would be no need for that.” When William didn’t answer, Mycroft felt the need to explain further, “my brother resents me, I think. I sent him away to boarding school when he was very young and I believe he’s still yet to forgive me.” William nodded. “Do enlighten me, how did you come to that conclusion?” Being asked that seemed to have made a light shine in William’s eye. Though it was barely noticeable, Mycroft had seen it before in a familiar face. “You weren’t very discreet about it, Mr. Holmes. First, your tickets; if you were indeed visiting your brother, you wouldn’t be carrying your return ticket. People tend to put those somewhere safe in fear of losing them in the meantime. Also, when I asked you about your brother, you seemed surprised, as if you had not been thinking about it at all… I can go on.” He smiled, somewhat eerily. “No need, William.” Sighed Mycroft, defeated. He already had to deal with Sherly’s ridiculously great mind his whole life, he didn’t need any more. “I am sure you and my brother will become friends.” He mentioned despite knowing it would most likely happen anyhow— to his, and the whole world’s, demise. By the end of their conversation, it had been announced that they would be arriving at their station in a few moments. Upon deboarding the train, William bid goodbye to Mycroft, assuring him he could more than manage to get to the school. Mycroft did not doubt that— however, he did ask William to not tell any of this to Albert. William shared the sentiment. ˜˜˜ The school building was big and old— nothing less than what William had expected. It was almost impossible to not make out the first-years from the other students. They all looked either incredibly excited or incredibly scared— with no in betweens. William, maybe despite his own knowledge, was the only one without those feelings blatantly dancing on his expressions. Many of the staff seemed to be politely guiding the more confused looking students towards— supposedly— the auditorium where the opening ceremony would be held. William found his way easily, sitting in an emptier area of the auditorium— his bag still perched by his side. He took out the book he had been previously studying and waited, in all the peace the place could provide. Which didn’t last long, because a tall, wild-haired boy sat laughing loudly only a few chairs away. Beside him were a flock of girls— all who also snickered and gasped in amazement. “You really think that will happen?!” One of them asked in amusement. William’s attention seemed hooked by whatever conversation they were having, though he had never had the habit to listen in on others. He still kept his eyes focused on the book. “Of course! The Latin teacher, Mr. Vitallence, is far too old to teach this year! If he hasn’t yet retired then I’m sure he’ll die of old age while teaching a lesson!” His comment seemed to extract a great deal of ‘oh my!’s and roaring laughter. Yet William could only focus on trying to figure out where he’d heard that accent before. Yet he kept his eyes on the book. “What about that new boy? What can you deduce about him?” One of the girls giggled excitedly, blatantly pointing at William. The boy took a good loot at William, smirking proudly. “He is a first year— obviously— and he’s probably from London. Was I right?” He asked, but before William could even respond, the girls asked for the boy to keep on. “You want to know more? Well, let’s see… he probably comes from a family of politicians— I suppose, but I’d bet he wants to be a mathematician!” William smiled politely, catching the group’s attention. “Some fair assumptions. Can I do the same to you?” The other boy nodded, amused. “Hm, you’re from ‘——’— I can tell because of your accent. You play a string instrument, the violin, I’d assume.” William drew a step closer, “you must have a knack for chemistry!” He took a step backwards. “Was I correct?” the boy— despite being dragged away by the flock of girls— still had his head turned around, facing William. An expression of true awe shone in his eyes. Before he could even say anything, the headmaster asked for silence so that the ceremony could begin. ˜˜˜ It had been a long, tedious ceremony. The headmaster had gone on for at least an hour about how the school had so much prestige, and only the best of the best could ever study there— though,undoubtedly, many of the kids there had no intention of actually achieving something of their own and just went there so that they could properly inherit daddy’s money. Still, William didn’t care much, because it was, indeed, a very prestigious school. William stretched as he finally stood up, making his way towards the first-year’s group. Before he even got there, a hand snatched his arm. As he turned around, William saw, once again, the wild-haired boy. “How did you even deduce all that about me?!” he had asked, ecstatic. “Deduce?” William rebutted, chuckling, “I simply stated some facts— I could ask you the same, but I simply used your own method of observations, I suppose.” The boy laughed— a laugh so loud and radiant, something William was sure he’d never heard before. “Well, I never got your name!” He said, extending his hand. “Moriarty. William James Moriarty.” William answered, enveloping the other boy’s hand in a firm handshake. “And you?” “Sherlock Holmes.” He grinned, letting go of William’s hand. “I’ll see you around, then!” He said as he left. William nodded in response— somewhat embarrassed to only just finally realize where he’d hear that accent.