#ler!william

Over the years, Sherlock Holmes had developed a very specific instinct. It didn't help him solve crimes, nor predict ambushes, for that, he already had his own brain. This instinct served a more important purpose: identifying when William James Moriarty was about to do something potentially problematic. And, that night, the instinct was screaming.

William sat on the sofa, his posture as impeccable as ever, an open book resting on his lap. Three others were stacked beside him, aligned with excessive precision. There was no tea, no music, just absolute concentration. Detailed diagrams of human feet were scattered across the pages, with fine lines indicating nerves and sensory endings. It had begun like many other things in his life: pure intellectual curiosity.

"May I ask," Sherlock began, approaching slowly. "why are you studying feet?"

William calmly turned the page. "They're pressure points" He replied. "More specifically, the concentration of nerve endings in the sole of the foot and their reflex responses"

Sherlock leaned over the back of the sofa, analyzing the diagram. "This looks dangerously close to medieval torture"

"Actually, it's quite commonly used in modern therapeutic practices" William corrected, unable to help but smile. "Reflexology, acupressure. There are records of interesting involuntary neuromuscular responses"

"Interesting in the scientific sense or in the William Moriarty sense?"

William carefully closed the book and raised his eyes, finally meeting Sherlock's gaze. "I need a volunteer"

He smiled nervously. "Of course you need to..."

Minutes later, Sherlock was stretched out on the sofa and, without any ceremony, rested his bare feet in William's lap, as if it were the most natural place in the world.

"Let me know if you feel any discomfort" William said, opening the book again beside him.

"I always feel uncomfortable when you start sentences like that"

The first touch was technical. Two fingers pressing with moderate firmness near the arch of the foot.

Nothing.

"Hm" Sherlock commented. "I confess I expected more drama"

"Not all points produce perceptible responses" William replied, moving his fingers a few centimeters. "The sensory map varies from individual to individual"

"Fascinating. Can I sleep while this is happening?"

William then slowly slid his fingers, almost distractedly, following a specific line of the diagram.

Sherlock's foot moved on its own. "A-Ah"

William stopped. "What did you feel?"

"I can't quite explain it" Sherlock replied, letting out a short laugh. "It was as if someone had poked a part of my brain"

William tilted his head slightly, genuinely curious now. "Interesting"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "I didn't like your tone..."

He then repeated the movement, this time a little slower, more attentive.

The reaction was immediate. "A-Ahahaha, wait!" The laughter escaped before Sherlock could contain it, his whole body writhing on the sofa as he tried to pull his foot back. "That tickled!"

William stopped, surprised. "Tickled? But the pressure was minimal"

"That's precisely why, I think"

William touched it again, now deliberately.

"Hahahaha! Hey, wait a minutehehehe!" Sherlock squirmed, now trying to kick the air as his feet betrayed any attempt at dignity.

"Fascinating" William murmured, completely absorbed. "The response is disproportionate, immediate, and emotionally intense"

"This isn't a report!" He managed to say between laughs.

"There's a heightened hypersensitivity here" William continued, as if giving a lecture. "Possibly associated with your nervous system—"

"YOU'RE TORTURING ME! HAHAHAHA!"

"Technically you volunteered, Sherly" William couldn't help but laugh, finally pulling his hands away as Sherlock nearly slipped off the sofa, laughing breathlessly.

"You're a danger" Sherlock sighed.

"I'll write that down" William said, picking up a sheet of paper. "Stimulation of the lateral points on the sole of the foot provokes intense involuntary laughter in a hypersensitive subject"

Sherlock turned his face towards him, still catching his breath. "I'm not a hypersensitive subject!"

"Alright, then tomorrow we can test our hands"

"No way!"

William let out a short laugh, observing Sherlock for a moment, his chest rising and falling from the remnants of laughter, his eyes shining with involuntary amusement, and the smile persisting even as he tried to appear offended. "Interesting" He said slowly.

Sherlock immediately narrowed his eyes, pointing an accusing finger at him. "Stop using that tone with me!"

William didn't answer, only adjusted his position on the sofa, better accommodating Sherlock's feet in his lap. "Just one more check" He said calmly. "This time, intentional"

"That sounded like a threat..."

William's fingers touched the heel first.

Sherlock gave a short, confused laugh. "Don't start!"

"The heel has a lower density of sensory nerve endings" William commented, lightly running his thumb over the area. "The response is more restrained"

"I didn't say you could test me like that—!" William shifted the point, moving a little higher, still on the heel, but on the side. "Hahahaha! No, no, that tickles too!"

"Noted" Said William, genuinely satisfied. "Moderate lateral sensitivity"

Sherlock tried to pull the foot back, but William held on firmly enough to keep it there. "You're having fun with this, aren't you?" He accused, between laughs.

William didn't respond immediately, only slid his fingers to the middle of the sole.

"Hahahahahaha! L-Liahahahaham no!" Sherlock threw his head back, writhing on the sofa again.

"Intense, immediate, and difficult-to-control response, right?" He commented, tracing slowly, observing each involuntary spasm.

"Nohahahahahaha! You're studying this as if I were a lab rat!"

"An extremely expressive rat" He corrected, amused.

The next point was the arch of the foot, and Sherlock was already laughing before the touch was even complete.

"No, nohohohoho! That's enough!"

"Anticipation of the stimulus increases the response" William observed. "Fascinating" The fingers then pressed with calculated firmness, following the extent of the arch.

"HAHAHAHAHAHA! NOAHAHAHAHA!" Sherlock writhed so hard he almost fell off the sofa again, covering his face as he laughed uncontrollably.

William felt something very close to satisfaction watching this. It wasn't cruelty or sadism, just enchantment. "Your reactions are extremely honest, there's no real attempt at control"

"HAHAHAHA! AS IF I COULD HAVE ANY CONTROL!"

Finally, William reached his toes, hesitating for a brief second, allowing himself to breathe as well.

"Liam..." Sherlock warned, laughing nervously. "You don't—HAHAHAHAHAHA! NOT THERE!" The laughter came loud, uncontrolled, almost hysterical, interrupting any attempt at warning. He kicked the air, completely defeated, his body trembling as he tried in vain to move away.

"The toes exhibit the greatest sensitivity" William concluded, now smiling openly, without trying to hide it. "The answer is immediate and impossible to suppress"

"I DON'T WANT TO KNOW! HAHAHAHAHA!"

He finally pulled his hands away, watching Sherlock gasp, still chuckling softly.

There was a brief silence. Then Sherlock turned his face, staring at him. "You are cruel and treacherous"

"And you are extremely susceptible and easy to provoke"

Sherlock pulled his feet away immediately. "You'll never get near my feet again!"

William smiled. "So you mean I can test other areas?"

Sherlock's eyes widened. "What? No!"

Albert sat hunched over a desk, eyes narrowed at the neat stack of documents he had been laboring through since morning. His usually immaculate posture was drooping now, shoulders tight and eyebrows drawn with fatigue. Even someone as poised as him could grow weary. He let out a long sigh, leaning back against his chair.

"Brother?" The soft, familiar voice came from the doorway, making him look up for the first time in a while. Louis stood there, hands loosely tucked behind his back, observing him with a gentle smile. Albert glanced up with a tired sigh. "Yes Louis?" “You’ve been sitting like that for hours,” Louis said, stepping in quietly. “You should take a break.”

Albert allowed himself a small smile. “I’d like to, but I still have these reports.” The other was already moving behind him, hands slipping over Albert’s shoulders. “Just a minute. I give these to William all the time. Trust me.” With some hesitation, Albert let his eyes fall shut and allowed Louis’s hands to begin working at the knots in his shoulders.

At first, it was wonderful - the pressure was just right, his fingers felt warm, but then- “Ah!” Albert jolted with a sharp squeak, blinking in surprise. Louis paused mid-press, and though the other couldn’t see his expression, a tiny smirk was already curling on Louis’s lips. "Your hands… feel rather odd," Albert said, clearing his throat with a touch of embarrassment.

"My apologies," the younger said, though his tone didn’t sound apologetic in the slightest. “Maybe it would help if you laid down properly. You’ll be more comfortable that way.” Albert hesitated. “…I suppose that’s reasonable.”

He got up and Louis helped guide him towards the bed, and Albert obediently stretched out face-down across it, sighing with relief at the softness beneath him. He hadn’t realized how stiff he was until now. As he rested, he felt Louis crouch down near his feet, beginning to undo his shoelaces.

"What are you doing now?" he asked as he felt his shoes being tugged off. Louis’s voice was innocent. “You’ll relax better without them.” Before he could respond, the bedroom door creaked open, and William stepped in, looking at the duo. His eyes flicked from Louis to Albert and back, one blonde eyebrow raised.

Louis’s smile widened and he made eye contact with the other. “William,” he said sweetly, “would you mind helping me with something? Our dear brother’s terribly tense and I think he needs... a different kind of release.” Albert propped himself up slightly, sensing something odd in Louis’s tone. “Louis?” But William only smiled, closing the door behind him.

“Of course. I’d be happy to assist.” Albert watched in confusion as William approached and crouched at the foot of the bed. Louis climbed up, straddling his upper back, placing his hands gently against Albert’s ribs. “Wait- What are you-?” Albert began, but then Louis’s fingers wiggled ever so slightly. A strange noise escaped him. “H-Heh- Louis, what-?”

Then William’s fingers descended onto his socked feet and everything went downhill from there. "Wh-What in the world?! AH-HAHA! W-Wait! WILLIAM! L-LOUIS!" Laughter burst out of Albert like water through a cracked dam. His back arched slightly, but Louis shifted with him, keeping him pinned.

William calmly held his ankles down as his fingers skittered up and down the arches of his feet. “Wh-What is this? What are you doing to me?! HAHA S-STOHOP, THAT TICKLES!” Louis laughed softly. “Exactly.” “You’ve never been tickled before, have you Albert?” William asked, his tone unhurried, yet teasing. “I suppose nobles aren’t really raised with things like this.”

“T-TICKLED?! IS THAT- HAHHAHAA IS THAT WHAT THIS IS?!” Louis leaned forward slightly, using his thumbs to press gently into Albert’s sides, drawing loud peals of laughter. “It’s something siblings do when they’re close,” he said, “you should feel honored.”

“I-I DO NOT FEEL H-HOHONORED!” Albert squirmed, red-faced, as William’s fingers sneaked under the arch of his foot again. “YOU DEVILIS!” “Oh, come now,” William teased, his calm voice barely concealing his amusement, “you’re always so dignified. Consider this... as acting like a child for once~”

Louis reached higher, fingers digging lightly into Albert’s ribs, eliciting a sharp squeal. “S-S-STOP IT! I C-CAHAHN’T B-BREATHE!” he laughed all while twenty fingers were scribbling and scratching over his seemingly most-sensitive spots.

His dark hair was tousled now, cheeks flushed pink. The image of the composed nobleman was nowhere to be seen - in its place was their older brother, laughing freely, eyes scrunched and helplessly writhing beneath their combined attack. “I think he likes it,” Louis commented with a grin.

Albert shouted something unintelligible into the pillow, but his laughter betrayed him. William chuckled. “You’re welcome.” After several more moments of relentless tickling - William focusing on toes and arches while Louis wiggled his fingers along Albert’s ribs and underarms - the eldest Moriarty finally collapsed against the mattress, panting.

“E-Enough! That’s... That’s quite enough...” The younger two relented, and for a while, the room was filled with the sound of Albert catching his breath. His hair was a mess, his shirt was wrinkled, and yet, he looked lighter somehow - relaxed in a way neither of them had seen before.

Finally, he pushed himself up, sitting on the edge of the bed with an indignant huff. “You two... you’re so goofy sometimes,” he muttered. But his lips curled slightly, and there was something soft in his eyes. “Still... I do feel rather refreshed.” Louis beamed. “Told you it works.”

Albert’s gaze moved to the pair - both smirking, satisfied, and far too smug for their own good. “I see. Is this how you two spend your time when I’m not around?” “Sometimes,” William replied coolly, “it’s good for bonding.” Albert stood up, straightening his shirt, looking like he might return to his usual refined self - until a glint appeared in his eye.

Slowly, deliberately, he began wiggling his fingers at them. “I suppose… it’s only fair that you two experience this ‘bonding’ now as well.” Louis’s eyes widened. “Wait, Albert-” “Brother, surely you wouldn’t-” William began, taking a step back. “Oh, I absolutely would.”

Henry was currently putting his tools back into his toolbox. He had just fixed how Foxy’s hook was sitting on his wrist, and made sure the hook was still able to move around without any issue. With that done and everything back in its rightful place, Henry closed his toolbox, latched the lock and picked it up. 

“Whoa there, Henry.” Someone spoke up nearby. 

Henry looked up, and looked to who was standing beside him: It was William…and he was holding a wrench in his hand. 

“I think you forgot something.” William told him. 

Henry was a little taken aback at first, but took the wrench anyway and looked at the bottom. Sure enough, the wrench had the word [Emily] etched onto it. “Oh! Thanks Will.” He told him before putting the wrench into his toolbox. 

“Your beard is getting along really well.” William mentioned. 

“Yeah…It is.” Henry replied, starting to walk out of the room. 

“What’s wrong?” William asked him. 

“Nothing.” Henry replied. 

“Oh come on…” William caught up beside him and looked at him. “I can tell something’s bothering you.” He told him. 

“Oh yeah?” Henry muttered, walking down the hall. “How so?” 

“Well for one, you’re not giving me your full attention.” William replied, poking his shoulder. 

“So what?” Henry reacted, pushing his hand away. 

“You also haven’t eaten anything in about 5 hours.” William told him. 

“You mean since my break?” Henry clarified, looking at him with a look of irritation. 

William’s worried look increased. “Okay…” He grabbed a chair and pushed it up behind him. “Sit.” William told him. 

“Will-” Henry tried to protest, but was gently pushed back into the rolling chair. “Dude!” William grabbed his own rolling chair, and sat down in front of him. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” 

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Henry muttered. 

“That’s what they all say right before they explode.” William mentioned. 

“I’m not a volcano.” Henry mumbled. 

“I never mentioned anything like that.” William replied. 

Henry’s face softened a little. 

“Do I have to start guessing?” Will asked. 

Henry sighed and sat back, scratching his beard and shaking his head in response. 

“Fine…” William looked Henry up and down before wheeling the chair closer with his feet. “Is it your wife?” Will asked. 

“No.” Henry replied. 

“Alright…Good.” Will responded. 

Henry looked down, trying to avert his eyes. It looked like Henry REALLY wanted to say it, but just…couldn’t for some reason. 

William noticed this, and leaned forward somewhat. “Yoo hoo?” William called, waving his hand at him. “Hellooooo?” He called next before booping his nose. “Boop!” 

“Dude…” Henry grumbled, looking away. 

William leaned back slightly, and stuck his bottom lip out like a child. “What’s de matter?” He asked in a childish voice. 

“Nothing…is wrong.” Henry spat. 

“Ooooh, so I’m right! There IS something!” William reacted. 

Henry raised an eyebrow. “What part of ‘nothing is wrong’ do you not understand?” 

William looked at Henry with a little smug look on his face. “...Every part.” 

Henry scoffed. “Clearly.” He muttered. 

William smirked and booped his nose again. “Boop!” Will cooed. He booping his left cheek with another “boop!” sound, before booping his right cheek with one more “Boop!” sound effect. 

“Will, stop…” Henry warned. 

But William’s smile only widened as he booped his nose one more time. “Boooooooooop-” 

“WILL!” Henry pushed Will’s rolling chair back with his foot, sending Will flying in the opposite direction. 

William was laughing, even as the chair hit the back wall. “Ohoho my god, that was priceless!” He reacted. 

“You like pissing me off?!” Henry raised his voice slightly. “Yeheah! Are you kidding me?! I love it!” William replied. 

Henry dropped his jaw. “Wha- WHY?!” He yelled. 

“Cause it’s cute!” William replied with a giggle. 

Henry’s angry look softened into confusion. “Excuse me-...What?” He reacted, puzzled. 

“You heard me~” Will teased him. 

“Did I? Cause I don’t think I heard you loud enough.” Henry muttered. 

“Oooooh, is that sooo?” Will giggled. “Looks like I’ll have to say it again~” He sing-songed. “I said that your reactions…” Will wheeled his own chair closer to Henry and booped his nose again. “Are cute.” Will finished his sentence. 

Henry slowly narrowed his eyes. “...Elaborate.” Henry ordered. 

“Happily!” William brought himself a little closer and placed his hands onto Henry’s shoulders. “You are an adorable person.” William told him. “Your quirks just SCREAM ‘cute’! The way you dance on the spot when Madonna comes on the radio, the way you hold your tools in your mouth when you’re multitasking…” He leaned in and placed his hands against his cheeks. “The way you practically melt whenever your wife plays with your stubble…” William proceeded to do the very thing his wife does, which made Henry close his eyes and hum with a little smile. “Like- you’d have to be the most psychopathic person on the planet, to not react to this!” William reacted, gently scratching his beard. 

“Wihill…” Henry muttered. “What have I told you about playing with my beard?” He asked. 

“You told me not to ‘until it’s fully grown in’. Tell me Henry:” William scratched under his chin, earning a giggle from his friend. “Is this not grown enough for you?” Will asked him. 

“Wihihill-!” Henry grabbed his wrists and snorted as he tried to turn his head away. “Ihihit’s not! Ihihit stihill ticklehehes!” Henry told him. 

Will laughed a bit as he scratched with only one hand. “Did you think that growing more hair would make you less ticklish?” William asked in a higher-pitched voice. 

“Yehehes, actually!” Henry gently removed his hand from his chin. “I thought having a layer of hair would hide my neck.” Henry admitted. 

Will raised an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?” He reacted as he placed both his hands on his cheeks and jawline. “And how’s that going for you?” William asked with a giggle. 

Henry squeaked and lifted his shoulders up. “Dohohon’t!” Henry giggled. Whenever he would try to hide one side of his neck, Will would only tickle the exposed side. “Eeheheeheehee!” Henry snorted and hid the other side. “Stahahahap!” He almost pleaded in a high-pitched voice. 

“What’s the matter, pupper?” Will teased in his baby voice. “Does someone like the scritchie-scratchies?” He asked. 

Henry snorted again. “Fuck ohohohoff…” He tried to push his hand away, but found himself too weak to do so. 

“Trying sooo hard to stop the tickles! But what appears to be stopping you?” Will asked. 

“Yohohohou’re sohohoho meehehean!” Henry whined. 

“Awww, isn’t this ADORable!” William reacted rather excitedly. “Does de gwumpy Henry LIKE the tickles?!” Will asked. 

“NOHO IHI DOHOHON’T!” Henry yelled. But despite his protests, Henry wasn’t doing anything to stop him! The evidence of the former was already more than clear: He seemed to like being pet like a happy puppy.

“I think he dooooes!” William cheered. “Is this…” Will gasped. “Is this secretly the reason? The reason why Henry grew out a beard?” He asked. “NO NO NO- IHIHIHIT’S NOHOT!” Henry yelled. 

“Because who- and I mean WHO…could possibly believe that Wifey Emily and Playful Afton can keep their hands off you when you have a FLUFFY FACE?!” William continued to tease in the most babyish voice he could muster. 

“YOHOHOU’RE SUCH A LIHIHIARRHRR!” Henry yelled. 

William gasped and dropped his jaw. “exCUSE ME?!” William retreated his fingers and crossed his arms in a fake pout. “What a mean thing to say!” He reacted. “Willy is angry now.” He moped. 

Henry’s giggles calmed down, as his dopey little smile dropped into a confused, yet…sad look on his face. “What?” He muttered. “Will…” 

“Mm mm.” William shook his head. “Ignoring you.” Will grumbled. 

Henry looked at Will with a look of pure annoyance on his face…before sighing and softening his face. “Fine…I’m sorry for calling you a liar…” He apologized. “...And a meanie…”  He added. 

William slowly looked at Henry with a hopeful look. “Are you gonna admit it?” He asked. 

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Huh?” He tilted his head. “Admit what?” 

Will slowly uncrossed his arms. “Admit that you grew a beard because you secretly like face scratches, specifically chin scratches because they tickle and make you feel good?” William explained. 

Henry’s face grew more calm and put-together…before a smile grew onto his face. “Ohokay…Maybe I did grow a beard because I like cheek massages…” He admitted. “Or as you put it…‘face scratches’.” Henry added. 

William smiled brightly. “Are you feeling better?” Will asked. 

Henry nodded. “Yeah…” 

“So what was bothering you?” Will asked. 

Henry chuckled. “That, actually…My wife doesn’t realize why I grew the beard out…she touches my beard, but she doesn’t scratch it like you did…” Henry admitted. 

William smiled. “All you gotta do is ask, buddy…” Will told him. “And if you can do that…then maybe you’ll get what you want.” He finished. 

“Can…Can you…” Henry grabbed Will’s hand and placed it against his own cheek. “Do it again?” 

"Done~" The black-haired detective chimed as a set of handcuffs dropped to the carpet after he had so skillfully removed them using only a hairpin and his half sober mind.

"I am impressed. Is there nothing that can hold the great Sherlock Holmes captive?" His counterpart, William Moriarty chuckled from his seat on the sofa, across the coffee table.

The two had enjoyed a couple of drinks together and found themselves back at the Moriarty Estate after discussing the fact Sherlock can wriggle his way out of any bonds, and how no lock is un-pickable.

"Well, this particular lock is such a simple design, child's-play really." Sherlock smiled, biting the hairpin, he had used to pick the lock, between his teeth as he picked up the handcuffs, looking at the keyhole with a chuckle.

William hummed in thought, tapping his cheek with a finger. "Perhaps having your hands restrained behind you would prove to be more challenging?"

"Pff. Hardly." The other scoffed, rolling the hairpin between his lips. "I'm sure it's just as easy." He smiled, blinking a few times as William stood and walked to his side, holding a hand out for Sherlock to hand him the cuffs.

"Let's put it to the test, shall we? I must see this for myself if I'm to believe it." He grinned, enjoying their silly little game. Sherlock returned the smirk, placing the cuffs in William's hand and turning his back to him on the sofa, allowing his friend to secure his arms behind his back.

"There we go, when you're ready, Sherlock."

"I'm telling you," Sherlock started, moving the hairpin from his lips to his shoulder, nudging it off into his open palm with ease. "It's all about visualization and feeling the give of the lock bars. You don't have to see what you're doing as long as you understand how everything works." He explained, maneuvering the pin into his fingers, feeling for the keyhole as he narrowed his eyes slightly.

William watched Sherlock's hands closely, it was impressive how he could do such a thing without looking, however, it was also disappointing to not get to see him struggle in the slightest. Then an idea worked its way into 'Liam's mind.

"And... What if you are trying to do this under stressful or even dangerous circumstances? Are you still able to concentrate as easily?" He asked, casually sitting on the arm of the sofa beside the still bound detective, a devious little smirk on his cheeks.

"Well, being realistic, I'd try to remove myself from the situation first and-"

"And what if you can't?"

"I'd figure something else out. Honestly, William do you believe that I of all people wouldn't be-eeeheheee!" A trill of giggles interrupted the man as he felt a pressure on his lower back that quickly fwipped upwards in one smooth stroke, making him arch away from the sensation.

"Oi!" He turned his head to glare at William, forgetting about escaping the cuffs for a moment. "Don't start that rubbish."

"Rubbish? What on earth do you mean?" The blonde smiled in response, shrugging as he casually started poking at Sherlock's side. "I'm only trying to make sure my friend is capable of taking care of himself. You need to prove to me that you can escape from more dire situations or I shan't sleep a wink just worrying about you."

Sherlock sniggered and flinched at each poke, fumbling for the hairpin as the ticklish shocks made him giddy. "I-I doubt anyohone would do thihis to me, Liam. Probably goho for something a little mohore violent- AH!" He yelped as William gave his ribs a squeeze, chuckling at his reaction.

"Violent you say?" He leaned in close, wearing his signature Lord of Crime smile as he snuck his hands under Sherlock's arms from behind. "I can do violent."

"Don't you dare, Liam-! Aha!" Sherlock was suddenly attacked with vigorous tickles, his ribs being the first victim. "Nohoho! L-Lihiam!" The dark-haired man slumped back into the sofa, trying to block William's tickling fingers as they squeezed and poked each rib, his arms still trapped behind his back by the cuffs.

"Come now, Sherlock. You're supposed to be making a great escape. If you cannot do it whilst being tickled, how will you fair against a beating or worse?" William chuckled, moving his attack downwards, pinching at Sherlock's defined hip bones.

"AHAHA! No! Liaham! Liam wait-!" He bucked instinctively, his head flung over the back of the sofa as his shoes scuffed up the rug beneath the coffee table. He was a very gangly man after all.

"S-Stop thihis! You bastahahard! Nahahahaaaa!"

"Well, you are a foul-mouthed bull calf aren't you?" William chuckled, he knew there was no severity behind the name-calling. It was very amusing though.

"Gehet off! Hahahaha! Ohohoff! I swehear I'm g-AHAHA!" Sherlock flopped onto his side, pressing his shoe against William's chest to keep him away for a moment as he fumbled with the hairpin. "C'mon, stupid bleddy cuffs-! Wait!"

William stood over him, one leg on the floor and the other straddling Sherlock's waist to avoid being bucked off.

"Better get those off quick, Mr. Holmes, a real crook wouldn't stop their attack, so I shan't either." He chuckled, shaking his hands into Sherlock's vulnerable tummy, earning a loud bout of hearty giggling.

"Nohoho! Ehehe! L-Lihihiam!" He shook his head against the sofa cushions, causing his hair to come loose from it's tie, poofing up in messy tangles as he struggled.

"Damn ihit!"

"Having a little trouble, are we?" The tickles moved back up, squeezing Sherlock's ribs again.

"LiHIHI-! AHAHAHA!" The ticklish sensation turned his usually fine-tuned brain to mush. He couldn't think straight, let alone focus on getting those damn handcuffs off his wrists. It was maddening, in a fun way. Being truly trapped for once.

His legs flailed helplessly as he lay on his back, dropping the hairpin between the sofa cushions as he writhed uncontrollably.

"Stahahap! I cahan't! I can't do it! PLEHEHEASE!" He howled, cheeks heating up as he admitted to his embarrassing defeat.

"My, my, Sherlock. This isn't like you at all." William teased, smiling down at his friend, enjoying the sound of his hearty laughter that brought a smile to his face. He sighed playfully.

"I had such high hopes too, but you're nothing more than another let down~" He chuckled, tugging Sherlock's shirt upwards, exposing his bare skin.

"Wait! Liaham please, I-I dropped the p-IHIHI! NOOO! I lohohost the pihihihin! AAAHAHAHA!" The detective descended into hysterics again as William snuck his hands up his shirt, digging directly into his ribs with cruel precision.

William knew Sherlock was well stuck and he wasn't going to let this opportunity go to waste. "Hah, must you be so loud, old friend? What if you disturb one of my brothers? They would surely be cross with you." He slid his hands further up, wriggling into his underarms.

Sherlock sharply inhaled as his worst spot was attacked. "NAHAHAHAHAAAA! *snort* Stahahap! PLEHEheheaaaa-!" He twisted his torso, bunching his shoulders in an attempt to protect himself from the relentless attack.

"Oho! Was that a snort, Sherlock?"

"NO! Noho! I-I dohon't snAHAHAHA-! *snort* OH GAHAHAD!" His thick hair became knotted and damp with sweat, clinging to his forehead as he laughed carefreely, streams of mirthful tears trickling down his cheeks.

"That was a snort. Without a doubt, Sherlock. You can't lie to me~" William beamed, he found the sound amusing, a hand dipping to squeeze Sherlock's hip.

"Okay! Okahahay! I Snohorted! YAHAHA! I-I yeheild! I- AHAH! Plehehease!" His eyes scrunched shut as he snorted yet again, his breathing becoming a little wheezy. Time to stop.

William chuckled, climbing off of the giggling heap of a man. He helped Sherlock sit up, petting his hair playfully, before taking the key for the cuffs from his pocket, freeing him from his prison.

"Hah.... Bleddy hell.... William...." Sherlock panted, massaging his wrists before dragging a hand through his hair, pulling it from his face.

"My apologies. You just have such a wonderful laugh, I couldn't help myself." William smiled, pouring Sherlock a glass of water, handing it too him and sitting by his side. "Did I go too far?"

"Hah... Nonsense. It would take more than that to ruin me." Sherlock chuckled, leaning back on the sofa, giving William a threatening grin. He held up a hand, showing five fingers.

Four.

Three.

Two.

The bedroom light was low, the house silent.

Sherlock didn't like this. Since the accident, since the endless days William lay unconscious, the silence had never seemed neutral again. It always came laden with unpleasant possibilities.

He entered as he always did: overly attentive. He already knew the pattern, checking his breathing, his posture, checking if William was comfortable, if he looked pale. Checking if—

He stopped. There was a suspicious volume in the middle of the bed, completely wrapped in a sheet, motionless. Sherlock stood still for a few seconds. His brain thought of too many possibilities in record time. "Liam?" He called, his voice more restrained than he would have liked.

The bundle moved. "I'm fine"

Sherlock released the breath he hadn't even realized he was holding, approaching the bed. "Are you... comfortable?"

"Quite"

Sherlock crossed his arms. "And is there any specific reason for you to be completely wrapped in a sheet like a cursed entity?"

The sheet tilted slightly to the side. "It's my tickle monster costume"

Sherlock blinked. "Your... what?"

That was the exact amount of time William needed. The "monster" lunged forward. Two hands slipped from under the fabric and gripped his sides with precision.

"Liam—"

Too late. Fingers found his ribs, moving up with calculated lightness.

"Monsters don't follow social and moral standards" William murmured under the sheet, moving further.

Sherlock let out a loud, short, incredulous laugh, completely taken by surprise, doubling back. "Hahahahaha! T-This is ridiculous!" He tried to protest, already laughing too hard to maintain any authority.

Fingers squeezed lightly, exploring. Sherlock tried to remain serious, managing to hold out for an incredible two seconds. "Noaahahahaha! Stop it! Y-You should be resting! Hahahahahaha!"

William took another step forward, forcing Sherlock to move forward as well to try and grab his hands. The sheet still enveloped him, creating an absurdly dramatic silhouette. "It's your fault, the monster only attacks excessively tense targets" He murmured, his voice muffled.

His fingers moved upwards, with Sherlock practically choking as they got closer to his armpits. "No, no, no, don't you dare—"

William dared. The attack changed rhythm, alternating quick, light touches with slightly firmer pressure.

Sherlock completely lost his composure. "HAHAHAHAHAHA! LIAM!" He fell onto the bed, trying to hold his hands and the sheet, but only managed to get more tangled in it.

William, still half-ghostly, continued, this time with quick and relentless movements. "You're laughing too loudly" He commented, with frightening serenity, now kneeling on the mattress, attacking from both sides at once.

Sherlock doubled over instantly. "IT'S YOUR FAULT—HAHAHAHAHA!" He tried to turn around, but William followed his every move, his fingers always finding the right spot. "I-I'M NOT TENSE!" He tried to argue, already completely compromised.

"Contrary evidence detected"

Sherlock was panting now, desperately trying not to laugh so loudly, but without success.

Laughter echoed down the hallway, and with the sound of quick footsteps, the door swung open. Billy appeared, his hair disheveled and his expression incredulous. "What time is it, gentlemen?" He asked, rubbing his eyes. "Do you really think anyone can sleep with this noise?"

Sherlock was still laughing, his face completely flushed. "S-Sorry!"

William emerged partially from under the sheet, his expression too composed for someone who had just caused chaos. "It was an unexpected supernatural attack" He explained.

Billy didn't seem convinced. "Silence" He said, closing the door immediately afterward.

The room was quiet for a few seconds. Sherlock was still catching his breath when William tilted his head slightly. "Did you hear that, Sherly?"

His eyes widened. "Liam, wait—"

"Be quiet" And he attacked again.

Sherlock let out a sound that was half laughter, half muffled protest. He squirmed in bed as William, now completely out of ghost mode, restrained him with relative ease and resumed the tickling, more controlled, yet strategically positioned. "Hahahaha! I'm trying!" He said, burying his face in the pillow to stifle his laughter.

"Your performance is unsatisfactory" William commented calmly, exploring the sides again, before moving up to the armpits.

Sherlock practically jumped in place, the pillow barely containing his explosive laughter. "I'm going to die...!" He whispered between laughs, completely surrendered.

"That's statistically improbable"

After a few more seconds, just enough to leave Sherlock trembling and defenseless, William finally stopped.

The room fell silent again. Sherlock lay on his back, breathing deeply, still letting out involuntary giggles. "That was cruel"

"I found it therapeutic" William said, sitting down beside him, pulling the sheet completely away. "But the monster has been defeated" He announced softly.

Sherlock turned to face him. "You're unbearable and absurdly dangerous"

William watched him for a few seconds, no joke now. "You've been watching me like I'm going to stop breathing at any moment"

The lightness lessened, and Sherlock was quiet for a few seconds. "You were unconscious" He said finally, more quietly. "For days..."

William listened without interrupting.

"I spoke to you, even without response. I checked your pulse. Repeatedly. Even knowing you were stable"

A heavier silence fell between them.

"I don't like not being able to do anything" Sherlock admitted. "And I didn't like almost losing you"

William leaned a little closer. "I understand"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "So when you get too quiet, or too still, my brain decides something's wrong"

William touched his hand. "It's alright, Sherly, I'm not going to disappear"

Sherlock didn't answer immediately. "I know that rationally"

William smiled slightly, placing a hand on his cheek. "Then maybe you need less rational reminders"

Sherlock chuckled softly. "Your method is questionable"

"But efficient"

Sherlock put his arm around his waist, pulling him closer. "I prefer it when you're making noise" Sherlock murmured. "Laughing, talking, teasing"

William rested his forehead against his. "Then I'll do that, but only when necessary" William added.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Was that a threat?"

"A preemptive promise"

Sherlock smiled, finally relaxed. "Ridiculous monster"

"Paranoid detective"

They remained like that for a few minutes. No tension, no frightening silence, just breathing in sync.