Work Text:
William walked towards the Bridge. London was on fire, people were trying to put out the fire, together. The Lord of Crime had one last mission, to kill himself. There was only one demon in London right now and it was none other than William James Moriarty- a name that was not even his.
There were still a few hours until Sherlock came. He wanted some time to himself. He sighed and sat on the bridge. He, himself and his thoughts. There was no one except him and his own mind. But, it was always like this for him. When they were younger, he only had his brain and his little brother, Louis. As long as Louis was there, he wasn't completely alone. But there were so many nights where William laid on the floor, drowning in his own thoughts when Louis was asleep. William would never let Louis see his pain.
He felt the wind, caressing his cheeks, playing with his hair and coat. He looked at his hands. They were covered in blood. Blood of the demons. He heard the screams, of innocent people, the screams of the demons he killed. He killed them. He clenched his fist with pain and sorrow. How he'd like to stop the pain. But he deserved it. He deserved any kind of pain. He hugged his knees- just like how he'd do when he was a young boy. He took a deep breath, trying to ground himself.
It all will end soon. Sherlock will come and kill him. Even if William cared about Sherlock deeply, there was no way Sherlock felt the same. William was a criminal and Sherlock was a detective.
William was desperate. He longed for rest and calmness. Something that a demon like him shouldn't want. But it all hurt. He dragged down Albert and Louis with him. Maybe if William wasn't born at all, Louis would've had a good future. Without staining his hands with red.
William held back his tears, he reminded himself again. It all will end soon. William had one mission left, and the the Lord of Crime will be finishing his purpose and William will finish his mission on earth.
William wanted to die.
He was born to suffer,
To die.