Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It had been raining all through the night.

The campus had just started to buzz with students moving about and rushing to their classes when the first ray of sunshine picked through the grey ominous clouds and the rain suddenly stopped. The man who’d been standing with his back to the locked windows was abruptly basked in light as the first rays of early morning sunlight filled the room and casted the man’s tall shadow over the dead-body he’d been staring at for the past five minutes. It was then and only then that Sherlock finally managed to inhale properly for the first time since he’d left London in a state of panic.

The news had come unexpectedly.

***
Sherlock was barely half awake because of all the frantic knocking and it was only when Mrs. Hudson accompanied by inspector Lestrade barged into his bedroom that he finally opened one eye to greet the two of them.

“Now what could possibly be so important to justify this very untimely and infinitely unwelcome visit, Lestrade?” He managed to catch a sight of the clock on the wall as he turned around. “It’s almost midnight.”

Lestrade looked as if he’d ran all the way to 221B Baker St., concern evident in his eyes he said breathlessly. “A dead body has been found at Oxford university.”

Sherlock’s heartbeat escalated. He sat up. “Do we know whose body it is?”

Lestrade swallowed audibly. “A professor.”

Breath hitched in Sherlock’s throat. He blinked for a long moment. “Who?” He barely heard his own voice as he said the word.

Lestrade shook his head. “The telegraph didn’t say. But they have explicitly asked for your presence.”

More words were said but Sherlock could only hear the loud buzz in his ears as he gathered his cloths at a speed previously unmatched and he was out of the front door before he could even process what he’d just heard. Or at least he would have been if an annoying older lady and very incompetent inspector hadn’t catch up to him in the middle of the stairs.

“Move Lestrade. I don’t have time for this.” He said irritated as he tried to push through only to be blocked by Mrs. Hudson again.

“It’s in the middle of the night Sherlock. Where on earth do you think you are going?”

“Why Oxford Mrs. Hudson. Have you not been paying attention at all?” He asked rhetorically and almost pushed Lestrade back but the staircase was narrow and was barely any place for three grown people to have a heated argument on.

Lestrade stopped him by a placing a hand firmly on his chest. “The weather is terrible. You’ll never get there in one piece.” The inspector managed to look the detective directly in the eyes. “Wait till sunrise. I shall accompany you myself.”

As if that’s supposed to reassure me.

Sherlock leaned closer to the inspector, his heart beating wildly in his chest, his lungs almost collapsing from the lack of air. “How about I go now? And you wouldn’t even have to come with me.” Sherlock pushed forcefully past them, trying to ignore the horrified sound that Mrs. Hudson made. He burst the door open and was in the middle of the street in a blink.

“At least let me call you a carriage.” Lestrade’s shout was muffled by the heavy rain.

Sherlock would’ve shouted back as he caught sight of a man riding down the street on a horse but he was too breathless to voice anything louder than a whisper. “I’ll manage.”

***
Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Sherlock counted the seconds as he tried to get his frantic breathing under control. He almost felt light headed as he finally raised his eyes from the middle-aged man whose body he’d been staring at for the past five minutes. Sherlock took in the room as he tried to ignore the burn in his lungs, knowing full well he’d pushed past his body’s drug addled limits.

He hadn’t taken the time to announce his arrival to any of the policemen he’d seen outside and if they had abandoned the scene of the crime for any stranger to walk in on, that just wasn’t his problem.
Ironic, how there had only been two murders in the university of oxford in the past 17 years and Sherlock was unlucky enough to be called in for both of them. Even if this one didn’t turn out nearly as badly as the first one.

It could’ve been a lot worse. Sherlock thought to himself as a shudder ran through his entire body. Oh this could’ve been the end.

He tried to clear his mind as he shook his head which resulted in a momentarily loss of balance. Sherlock took an unsteady step back and rested a hand against the window. He’d rode all night.
All night?

Sherlock looked outside the window and saw students hurrying around. Some alone, some in groups, all full of life.

God. What time is it?

“Would’ve said nostalgia has brought you back, but considering professor Blackwood here… I should say you’re on the clock.”

Sherlock closed his eyes and tried to maintain his normal breathing. Of all the people he could’ve seen here…

You came here expecting to see him dead. Surely seeing him standing a few feet away from you couldn’t hurt more.

Sherlock inhaled deeply and ignored the burning in his lungs once more. He turned around to see James Moriarty in all his glory, standing by the door, watching him, a familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Professor.” Sherlock greeted curtly and was proud when his voice didn’t falter.

The smirk got bigger and James stepped into the room. “Detective.” He was wearing his formal teaching robe over a dark suit. His hands buried deep in his trousers pockets as he walked around the body, his eyes never leaving Sherlock’s. James came to a stop on the other side of the body and extended a hand toward Sherlock.

Sherlock eyed the hand then eyed James again and did his best to keep a neutral face. “Shaking hands over a dead body? not very appropriate of you, professor.”

That did little to dissuade James as his smirk turned into a wicked smile. “Don’t be fooled by the robe detective. I am all sorts of inappropriate.”

It was only after Sherlock reached a hand that he noticed the trembling and before he could pull back, his hand was captured in James’ iron grip. Warmth sipped through his cold skin as James’ grip hardened around his. The professor gave him a once over and chuckled mockingly. “You’re dripping with water and your hand’s colder than professor Blackwood’s here. I’m having a hard time grasping whose murder you’re here to solve.”

Sherlock pulled his hand as if he’d been burned and took a step back. He cursed himself silently. “This is a crime scene. I am uncertain as to whether or not you are permitted to be here.”

“Don’t trouble yourself on my account detective. I am…”

“Oi! What are you doing in there?”

A constable barged into the room, pointing an accusatory finger at Sherlock. “The door was locked. How did you get in? You can’t just… professor Moriarty!” the constable who had been ignorant to James’ presence suddenly saw him. “Apologies professor. I didn’t quite see you there.” He said turning a little pale.

James smiled widely and made a gesture with his hand. “All is well constable. You take your job seriously. Miller, is it?”

Great. He now has the Yard in his pocket as well.

The constable paled a bit more. “Yes sir. I apologies again for not…” he sent Sherlock a dark look as if remembering him again. “If only I hadn’t been distracted by this insolent wet dog.”

James’ eyebrows were raised as he took a glance at Sherlock before gazing at the constable again. “This insolent wet dog here…” he pointed his thumb in Sherlock’s direction. “Is Sherlock Holmes.”

For once Sherlock preferred to focus on the burn in his lungs and how cold he felt instead of how his name sounded in James’ voice.

The constable snorted. “All due respect sir, Mr. Holmes won’t be here at least till late afternoon. He’s only been wired…”

“What in God’s name is going on here?”

A short corpulent man in a long brown coat appeared in the doorway. “Your voices carry down the hallway.” He was wiping the sweat from his forehead when his eyes landed on James. “Mr. Moriarty Sir.” He barely managed to squeeze his large belly through the narrow doorway to get in and almost bowed to James before hastily stuffing the red handkerchief inside his pocket. “We were not informed you’d come here sir.”

Even better, the Yard treats him as if he is the chief of the police.

James leveled him with a look. “I work here, inspector.”

The inspector struggled to find his words. “Of course, sir. Of course.” He glared at Miller. “I hope constable Miller hasn’t given you much trouble sir. He’s still very much green.”

“As it happens, he was telling us something just before you announced yourself obscenely loud, inspector.” James fixed his cold gaze on the constable. “Do go on, constable.”

“Actually, that won’t be necessary.”

Three pairs of eyes landed on Sherlock and he only tried to avoid one.

The inspector narrowed his eyes. “And who might this fellow be?”

“He’s Sherlock Holmes sir.”

The inspector glared at Miller. “Don’t be absurd Miller. Holmes won’t be here till afternoon.”

“And why is that, inspector Tanner?” James asked with a hint of anticipation, eyes still on Sherlock.

Sherlock pressed his lips into a tight line and answered James’ expectant look with a cold one.

Tanner looked between Sherlock and James and decided he didn’t want any part of it. “Well we wired London an hour after we found the body sir. It must have been around midnight.” He reached for his handkerchief and wiped his face again. “Assuming he got the message early this morning, he won’t be arriving until this afternoon.” He shrugged. “Nobody expects a detective like him to drop everything and rush here for a case like this.”

James’ brown eyes landed on Sherlock again. Cogs turning in his head, he raised a brow. “And what did the telegraph say, pray tell.” His eyes still fixed on Sherlock’s.

“That’s enough.”

The inspector ignored Sherlock’s weak order. “Not much sir. Just that a professor’s body has been found at the university and that Holmes’ presence is required.” He gave Sherlock a look and shrugged again. “Or so I presume.”

“Huh.”

Sherlock could see the moment that James had his suspicions confirmed. It was impossible to miss the victorious spark in those intense eyes as he gave Sherlock another once over to relish in his new enlightenment.

He knows.
And he is more than pleased.

A sudden chill made a shiver run down his entire body and it was what Sherlock needed to break the eye contact. “Well I’m here now so you might as well walk me through it. What do you know so far and why did you call for me?”

It took a moment for Tanner to get over his surprise. “Mr. Holmes…”

God, could this get any worse?
I might as well get this over with now.

“Yes, that’s me. I got the message at midnight and I rode here from London on a horseback for almost 9 hours and now here I am, dripping with water, shivering like a leaf, frozen to my bones. Now will you for the love of God, tell me about your case or not?”

The inspector and the constable stared at him with their mouths hanging open. Sherlock cursed himself silently and had half a mind to storm out of the room. He was almost ready to admit that Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson had both been right when the inspector found his voice again. “The body belongs to professor Adam Blackwood, a naturalist, 54 years of age and not married. He was found at 11 p.m. after a student heard a loud noise from his room. He comes to check it out and finds the lights turned off and the door locked.” Inspector took a deep breath. Now in his element he was sweating less as if recounting the incident soothed him. “The student alerts a faculty member, professor Ambrose. You must know him sir.” Tanner said to James and he nodded in answer. “Not very well but yes.” The inspector nodded to himself and continued. “So after that a porter is fetched then a carpenter is fetched to open the lock, then they found the body and notified the Yard.”

Sherlock who had been silently observing everything to this point turned to the inspector. “And the murder weapon?”

Tanner was reaching for his handkerchief again when he stilled and looked at Sherlock curiously. “Murder weapon? There was no murder weapon.”

“What is the cause of death, then?”

Tanner snorted as he wiped his face. “The coroner says blunt force of trauma.” He gestured vaguely. “Meaning that he just fell on the ground from a heart attack or something and hit his head. Coroner needs to cut open the body to confirm the heart attack but it fits. We can rule it out as natural causes.”

“Thank you Tanner, we know what blunt force trauma means.” James interjected mockingly.

The inspector paled. “Why sir, I didn’t mean to insinuate that you…”

“You said the door was locked.”

The three pairs of eyes were on Sherlock again. Tanner looked annoyed. “Yes. From the inside.”

Sherlock turned to the windows behind him. “And the windows are locked as well.”

Tanner looked frustrated. “Yes. Is there a point in stating the obvious, detective?” He almost spat the last word out.

“The point, inspector Tanner…” Sherlock felt both tired and angry. “Is if every entry to the room was locked at the time of incident and you have already ruled the case out as death of natural causes…” he turned to Tanner and gave him ridiculous smile. “Then what in seven hells am I doing here?”

A silence fell over the room and Tanner looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth still open from the words that he was unable to speak. Sherlock waved a hand dismissively. “Or at least that would have been the point if this case was in fact a death of natural causes.”

“Is it not?” Miller and Tanner asked simultaneously.

“No.” James beat Sherlock to the answer. He reluctantly looked away from Sherlock and pointed to the desk and the wall behind him. “There is blood splashed all over the desk as well as the wall, but of course you missed to take that into account Tanner.” Turning back to Sherlock, he smirked again. “I was wondering when you’re going to point that out. Is it possible that the cold has stripped you of your wits after all?”

Something hot burned inside Sherlock and he did his best not to take a swing at the other man. “I would have mentioned it had you not been overly eager to prove that my presence here is somehow about you.”

“It is not my fault that you rode all through the night in a heavy rain because you couldn’t bear not knowing whether or not I was still breathing the ever-pleasant Oxford air, Sherlock.”

Sherlock wanted nothing more than to wipe that smug smile off that arrogant face. He took a step toward James and nearly hit Blackwood’s right foot. “I can’t help but wonder if this poor fellow’s murder is somehow connected to you James.” The name burned his tongue as it left his mouth but it was worth seeing that momentarily falter in James’ bravado as he heard it.

“Gentlemen, please.” Tanner took a step toward them but still kept a safe distance. “You just said this was a murder but how could that even be possible? The entries were all locked.”

Sherlock sighed irritated and spared the chubby inspector a quick glance. “There must be a secret passage or a hidden door. They were fund of these things when these building were built.”

“Ah huh.” James exclaimed with sudden excitement. “Except there isn’t.”

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and was suddenly too aware of just how much his cloths were soaked through. “There must be.”

James mimicked Sherlock’s gesture, his smile stayed in place. “There isn’t.”

“So I wouldn’t find anything even remotely resembling a passage way if I search this office?” Sherlock challenged.

James shook his head. “There are no secret passage ways in this building Sherlock. I should know. I have checked.”

Silence fell over the room once more. Student’s chatter carrying to the room, making the murder scene very much not a part of the real world.

“So…” Miller was the first person to utter a word. “Is it now established that the professor Blackwood was murdered inside his own office while being locked in?”

“Indeed constable.” James said with a devious smile playing on his face. “And Sherlock Holmes is going to catch our killer.”

Sherlock inhaled deeply and realized his lungs were not burning anymore. He held his chin high, trying and succeeding to keep the excitement from showing on his face. “Challenge accepted, professor.” He frowned suddenly and turned back to the inspector. “But first, you solve another mystery for me inspector. Why was I called here for a case you thought you’d already solved?”

Chapter Text

On all accounts, James Moriarty led a tediously boring life.

One would think a man in his position and power would see much excitement in his daily life but that was not the case with James. Sure, he schemed, he plotted, he conspired and killed people but all in all he rarely had the opportunity to pull the trigger himself. It was always just giving the order. One order after another. A network that would not survive without him but in all fairness, he probably had the smallest contribution in form of actions.

So when he got word last night that professor Blackwood was found dead in his office, he was not shocked at all, not because he was somehow involved with the incident, but because death had become such regular occurrence in his life that one more body would not count for much. What did shock him however, was seeing the one and only consultant detective, standing by the window in all his 6ft 2 inches glory, basked by the early morning sunlight and looking absolutely retched.

James was pacing around Blackwood’s office, making it look as if he was still searching for more clues while in reality he was trying to take the best look of the detective from all angles.

“Whenever I think the Yard could not possibly get anymore incompetent, you manage to unlock some new level of uselessness. How can you possibly stand there and tell me you don’t know where the note is?”

Sherlock was still dripping wet but less so than when James first caught sight of him. His long hair that almost reached his shoulders was still half wet, his face was so pale that one would have to squint to find much difference between his and that of the dead professor’s and the dark circles that usually nested under his eyes looked more prominent. His eyes, although he was still busy admonishing the inspector, managed to land on James a few times and each time, James could see how absolutely feral he looked.

Wet dog? No. that would imply being miserable and helpless. This Sherlock looked wild and unhinged and certainly looked nothing like the man James had turned his back on in one moment of true anger two years ago.

“Mr. Holmes, I do not appreciate the way you are reacting to this matter.” The inspector was doing his best to stay respectful.

“Well I’m glad you do not appreciate it, inspector. I was aiming for insulting you in the worst possible way but perhaps knowing how worthless you and your men have been for this case, you’ve grown quite numb to whatever insult I’m throwing at you.” Sherlock was almost shouting now.

Holmes or not he’s going to land himself in jail but what else is new?

“Gentlemen!” James exclaimed as he walked to them confidently. “It seems as if the two of you have a hard time not to measure your sizes but that should be expected since you’re only men.” He smirked as soon as Sherlock glared at him with those wild green eyes “What seems to be the problem?”

The inspector’s eyes traveled between them before he opened his mouth. “Sir, Mr. Holmes believes…”

“Actually, I reckon I do the talking.” Sherlock announced loudly and turned fully to James who in return smiled widely. “Since you seem to be such an important figure around here, I might as well bring this up with you.”

“Just doing my civic duty, detective.” James said in a way that he knew would only irritate Sherlock more.

Sherlock visibly stopped himself from saying something rude. He took a breath and gestured to the room. “Door opens at around 11 p.m. professor Ambrose, the student and constable Miller walk into the room, find Blackwood dead on the ground and chaos ensues. Five minutes later around twenty people are moving about, each of them contaminating the scene of the crime and then out of nowhere a not is produced with my name on it.” Sherlock gave Tanner an incredulous look. “Did I miss something, inspector?”

Tanner wiped the sweat off his face. “No, Mr. Holmes, you did not. But I must…”

Ignoring the inspector Sherlock turned to James again. “Naturally I requested to see the note for myself, only to find out the inspector has absolutely no clue where the Godforsaken note is!” Sherlock’s voice was only shy of shouting when he finished.

James gave Tanner an unimpressed look. “You truly don’t have the note?”

Under James’ cold gaze, the inspector squirmed before answering. “It appears that we are unable to locate the note at this moment.”

“You make it sound so impressive Inspector when in reality you’ve lost the only piece of evidence you had!”

James watched in amazement as Sherlock burned with hot fury. It was obvious that the journey and the physical toll it had taken on him was finally catching up.

“Perhaps we should all take a moment to think of a rational solution.” James said this in a tone that would suggest he’s trying to calm the other man while in reality he knew it would only anger him further.
Sherlock gave him a wild look. “Rational solution? What sort of rationality am I supposed to find in their stupidity professor?” He almost spat the last word out.

“What do you even need the note for? It was just your name on it! What more could you possibly get from that?”

James had half a mind to stand between Sherlock and Tanner in fear of the inspector getting punch in the face by Sherlock.

Sherlock leveled Tanner with a look and if looks could kill… “It is not the word that I am interested in, inspector! The note would carry much more than you can ever hope to understand!”

“What is God’s name can a name tell you?”

“The hand writing, the ink, the paper, the smell and a few other things as well.” James answered before he could stop himself. Tanner, bless his bribe-taking heart, was not the brightest in the Yard and his ignorance was becoming too much even for James.

The three men looked at each other before Sherlock sighed and shook his head. “I need to speak with everyone who walked into this room last night and I need to do it now.”

“I’m afraid that would not be possible sir.”

“Why?” Sherlock and James exchanged an empty look as they asked simultaneously.

Tanner’s eyes traveled between them for the tenth times today. “For one the student has not been seen on the campus since this morning and professor Ambrose is also nowhere to be found.”

Sherlock almost exploded. “So not only you lost the only evidence we had, you also have no idea where your primary witnesses are.” He ran a hand through his long hair and James saw the tremble in his fingers. “It is truly a miracle that you didn’t somehow lose the body too inspector. Scotland-yard should give you a medal of honor!”

“Mr. Holmes! I will not tolerate…”

James caught sight of the crowd that was starting to gather outside the room and decided that it was his time to interfere.

“I think…” He declared loudly and effectively shup up the other men. “That our best course of action is to step back and let the coroner do his thorough examination. In the meantime, the Yard will seek out both the student and professor Ambrose to get their statements.”

“I conquer.”

“Our?”

James turned from the inspector’s happy face to Sherlock’s twisted one. “Beg pardon?”

“Our best course? What does a mathematician have to do with a murder investigation?”

James should have expected this. Still, the venom in that sweet voice stung. He made a motion with his hand and the inspector took that as his cue to leave. James fully turned to Sherlock, his hands buried deep in his pockets again, a sarcastic smile on his face. “Would you rather I leave you with our bright inspector to fend for yourself?”

Sherlock’s nostrils flared. “You think I can’t handle the Yard without you present?”

James shrugged. “If your interaction so far is any indication, I’d say no you can’t. But perhaps the Yard is not the problem. Perhaps it’s you.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “Me?”

James was tempted to irritate him more but Sherlock was taking it the wrong way and the shiver that ran through his entire body non-stop was making it hard for James to keep having much fun from seeing him like this.

He took a glance at the crowd outside and stepped closer to Sherlock. Those green orbs were absolutely focused on him and James was not ready to accept how much he’d missed this.

“You rode here non-stop. Your clothes are soaked through and you’re absolutely freezing.” He ignored Sherlock’s frown and continued softly. “I have a house here and I’m sure we can fetch you a change of clothes while you take a nap and wait for your own to dry up.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he huffed out a dry laugh. “Not a single word from you for the past two years and now you’re inviting me to your house?”

James stared at him coldly. “Well I myself wasn’t exactly buried in your letters either Sherlock but I thought we might be able to behave like adults instead of selfish children who can’t see beyond themselves.”

Sherlock considered him for a moment. “So this is your olive branch?”

James laughed out loud.
God! You fold so easily Sherlock!

“Far from it. But I am not keen on having you here longer than necessary.”

“So you expect me to believe it wasn’t you who left a note with only my name on it to drag me here?”

“No because that way I’d be insulting your intelligence by assuming you could be fooled so easily and that is something I never do!”

Sherlock’s eyes hardened, still not believing him. “Well if that’s the case, I shall get back to the investigation.” He made to push past but James was having none of it. He grabbed Sherlock’s arm and stopped him. “You know as well as I that right now you are in no shape to do any deductions.” He said as he leaned toward Sherlock’s ear. “Besides, they have nothing for you at the moment.”

“Nevertheless…” Sherlock said as he tried to free himself from the other man’s grasp only for James to tighten his grip.

“Look. You obviously don’t wish to be here anymore than you should and that is a sentiment we share. But stubbornness will get you nowhere and frankly speaking, if you’re not willing to compromise a little, I will make an effort to make your time here less pleasant than it should be.”

Sherlock’s head jerked up and their eyes locked. The feral green orbs on that pale face and the disheveled hair made him look like a madman. “Are you threatening me, James?”

James hid the sudden surge of emotion from hearing his name behind a sweet smile. “I am just saying.” He noticed the curious looks they were receiving from the people outside and decided it was time to leave. “Come now Sherlock! I am being a gentleman by offering you this and you should be wise enough to accept it.”
The moment stretched for a little longer as they held each other’s gaze but eventually Sherlock’s body relaxed a little and James took that as confirmation.

The carriage ride passed mostly in tense silence. As soon as Sherlock was assured that his horse would be taken care off, he stopped speaking all together. He never once glanced in James’ direction and James was content as he got to examine the other man properly now. He’d lost a few pounds, that was for sure and James suspected the cold was not sole responsible for his pale skin; the same could be said about his trembling hands as they were still shaking even though the rest of his body had stopped.

“Will the good doctor join us as well?”

Sherlock turned to him with a puzzled look. “What?”

“Your companion physician. Is he back from vacation to join you here or not?” James asked neutrally.

For a moment there, Sherlock looked like as if he was going to ask James how could he possibly know John is on vacation. “No.” He said curtly. “Why do you ask?”

James shrugged. “Just wondering whether or not I should be calling you a physician.”

Sherlock frowned with alarm. “Why would I be needing a physician?”

“9-hour ride on a horse in a storm does wonders for one’s health you know.” James said pointedly.

Sherlock pressed his lips. “I am well.”

James smirked. “If you say so.”

“You need not concern yourself with my health.”

James raised both hands in mock surrender and chuckled. “I’m just not looking forward to you keeling over from pneumonia in my house is all.”

“Well then you have nothing to worry about.” Sherlock snapped at him and looked away.

The silence fell over them but not for long. “How well did you know Adam Blackwood?”

Back to business then.
Don’t let those emotions have even a moment Sherlock!

“Not very well. A faculty member. Quiet fellow, minded his own business and students liked him.” James said easily. “He did care about honesty in academic work, though.”

“How so?”

“About a year ago he reported a colleague for forging data for one of his articles.”

Sherlock frowned. “Do you think there is a chance that he might be our killer?”

James schooled his face not to smile after hearing the word “Our”. He merely shrugged. “I cannot be certain but it is unlikely. The fellow left the university after only a month. Last I heard he left for India.”

James noticed a state of increasing restlessness in Sherlock as they rode toward their destination but he didn’t comment on it. This all had to wait till Sherlock was in his house where James actually had some control over him.