Chapter Text
There was just so much to do.
On top of his university students’ tests sitting in front of William, he’d been tasked with some of MI6’s paperwork too. And he’d need to sort through the letters of information gathering he’d tasked Moran with getting. And he’d need to remember to make a list of the things he’d need from Fred for the mission rumbling around in his head. And he’d need to respond to more of Sherly’s invitations to do something, anything while he was free from being hounded by Miss Hudson for rent.
He could at least look forward to those days. Sherly always had the most interesting places to take him, and he could forget about the mountain of tasks he had on those nights spent talking for hours with the detective who would one day be the hero to the tale of good defeating evil.
The hours spent sitting at this desk, pen in his sore hand and eyes flicking across pages and pages of work needing to be done, were long and tedious. He couldn’t recall when he’d last had a day off from everything and anything since, perhaps, he was a child.
Even then.
Even then, teaching the children of the orphanage about how the world worked had been day in and day out. Even then, planning to take the old William’s place and thinking of how to best use Albert’s need to change the country had taken over his mind.
When had he last slept fully, without his mind going over his plans again and again? When had he last eaten even today? He was weary, but he had to keep going.
He was grateful for the knocking at his door, and forced his usual smile upon his face. He couldn’t be seen gripping his pen like it was his last strand of sanity. “Come in.”
He might have been expecting Albert with news of the mark doing something dastardly, or maybe Fred coming in to ask for clarification on something but always sticking around for brief talks, but he was instead met with James, holding a tray obscured by a metal cover with one hand while the other closed the door behind him.
“I see you’re working hard, brother,” he said as he stepped closer and took in the three piles of paper stacked high on his desk, along with the second pen William knew he would need before the second stack was halfway through.
“Somewhat, yes,” William said light-heartedly, but felt the weight of his words bearing down on him. There might never be a day in his shortened life where he wasn’t tied up in work, truly. “What have you got there?” The mix of savoury and sweet smells radiating from under the metal cover suddenly filled his senses. A lovely break from the stale-like paper and drying ink scents.
James chuckled lightly. “Oh, well, you see.” He was already pushing his papers out of the way to make room for the tray. “Louis was very distressed that you hadn’t shown to breakfast.” He lifted the lid, then set it aside. A plate with mincemeat pie, a cup with still-steaming chamomile tea, a dish of sugar by its side, and a pastry with cream spilling out of the side now sat in front of William. “So he made these for you to enjoy.”
A light flour coating was tucked under James’ cuff, and there was a small splattering of tea droplets on his pants. As William sniffed lightly, he could tell Louis' hands hadn't so much as touched the cup and fork—his always left a subtle remnant of the herbs and spices he cooked with, as well as the lavender soap he cleaned the dishes with—but James and his vanilla perfume, a bit of his past life he’d held onto, had, and not for a short amount of time.
“How sweet of him.” William smiled, more genuine than before, and dutifully picked up the fork next to the pie. “I’ll be sure to thank him for his hard work later.”
“I’ll pass along the message for you,” James said, and picked up the pen William had set down, along with the paper next in the stack he’d been pouring over. “Why don’t you take a little break while I try my hand at these?”
It was clear by the finality in his voice that James wasn’t giving him any other option. Someone being gentle yet firm with him and going out of their way to lighten his load—it was kind to the highest degree for someone everyone else seemed to look at like a god.
William took the first bite, grateful for the warm, delicious meal, and for the reprieve in his work, and never knew James could be so thoughtful.