Work Text:
Albert found it difficult to find his way in the new-old everyday life, which somehow resembled his life from three years ago, but which was so completely different from the one he remembered. The better world they created operated under completely new conditions, and even though he wanted this change, this did not mean that changing his habits was easy for him.
One of the most difficult things in times of isolation was the Christmas period, which was supposed to be a family holiday spent with loved ones, and yet the warmest thing he received were the wishes written by Mycroft in letters. He spent three Christmases alone and could only hope that things were well with his family and friends, that they had a wonderful Christmas without him, even though deep in his heart, he didn't believe that could be possible.
He remembered the overwhelming terror of realizing that William, his beloved brother, was dead, that he would never be able to see his smile as he unwrapped his gift again, that he would never hear his grateful voice again, that he would never be able to reassure him, how much he loves him. And when Mycroft didn't mention Louis in his letters, Albert's heart also tightened and he began to have thoughts he didn't want to have. What if the bad name of the Moriarty family could cause suffering to his youngest brother? What if someone hurt him? What if the wonderful world that he and William had given him became too much for him to bear on his shoulders alone?
He tried to make himself feel better with the thought of everyone who could help him. Louis had Moran and Fred to help him, but while he learned nothing about the younger boy from Mycroft, the news about the colonel wasn’t very positive. Albert hated the fact that he even missed them, and yet as it got darker and darker outside, as Charles Dickens arrived at his cell frozen and shivering, his hands began to itch from not being able to knit those stupid sweaters that he used to give them every holiday. Even when Moran looked like he wanted to die after receiving his gift, and Fred was bad at pretending he liked it, and only his brothers honestly said they loved what he did for them, it all felt so right to him. Everything was as it should be when everyone wore the sweater he had knitted, happy Will and Louis, disconsolate Fred and protesting Sebastian.
Now that he was finally out of his cell, now that he could finally meet them all, alive, safe and sound, he wanted to make up for everything he had missed. He planned to make three sweaters for William, three for Louis, three for Moran and three for Fred. If they do not want to use the excess, they will be able to distribute it to others. However, things had to be in their place, that was all that mattered to him.
He held the tapestry needle in his hand and was knitting the first sweater with great concentration: the one for William. He couldn't start with anyone else. Then he was going to do the one for Louis, that order was so obvious to him, and then the one for Sebastian, and end with Fred. And then he will do the same thing again and everything will be as it was supposed to be.
Looking at the colorful ball of yarn, he wondered what pattern he wanted to knit for his brother. He knew that he was not an artist, he knew that his attempts did not end with the most beautiful effects, he knew that when trying to model a style, his actions were in vain, because apart from casting on and finishing stitches, he had never really learned everything he needed to know, but he still put his whole heart into it. But he wasn't sure what would make William happy now, because although he had made him a sweater to match Louis' one a year before they separated, now everything had changed. Louis had become so independent, he had become his own person, more than just a fitting member of the family, and Will felt warmer feelings towards people other than his siblings as well. He still loved his brothers, but now he also had Billy, not to mention the love he had with Sherlock Holmes, which had to be something far from platonic. And Albert? Albert stopped in his way. Maybe he didn't realize how much those three years had changed and he only realized it now, and it hurt terribly. It was so hard to think that he had missed the things that happened to his loved ones. However, he himself would have nothing to tell: he spent these three years only with his memories and dreams, without actually doing anything.
All these thoughts made his hands start to shake, but he didn't understand why. It shouldn't be like this, things like this shouldn’t happen in his life. Why was he able to survive so much, but he was broken by knitting a sweater? Maybe because nothing was in its place, everything was wrong. He let the yard needles fall from his hand as he felt tears fall on it. He was crying so hard and he just couldn't stop it, no matter how much he wanted to. He tried to control himself, but everything seemed to remind him of his every unhappiness.
Maybe the world where everything is as it should be was really always supposed to be the world that hated him, and he did deserve to be hated because he didn't even know what would make his brother happy. He probably never really knew, since as much as he loved his siblings, they only became truly happy after three years without him. He wondered if he should even think positively about what their old family Christmas had been like, since Will's greatest desire, which he looked forward to more than any Christmas gift, was still death, and Louis still stood on the sidelines and didn't feel worthy of receiving gifts.
Albert could love them with all his heart, which they shared with him, but he couldn't be with them when everything in their lives got better. He couldn't be with them when they finally started enjoying something. By giving them the chance to follow Will's plan, he truly took away any joy they could have had in their lives. He was glad that they had finally experienced it, but he couldn't imagine ever smiling again, knowing that he wasn't the reason the most important people in his life smiled.
For Will, Christmas with Sherlock and Billy was his first truly happy one. He probably decorated the Christmas tree or bought them small gifts, as he always liked to give, and in America he must have experienced the essence of consumerism. However, before giving gifts to them, he also must remember about charity. It was so important to his brother, he wouldn't be surprised if he, the detective and the American put helping the poorest before preparing gifts for themselves. He already knew from Louis that he was giving his annual anonymous donation to the orphanage where he and William had once stayed. Anyway, Louis' last Christmas... Youngest brother spent it surrounded by his colleagues, people to whom he had to open up. It must have been the greatest Christmas of his life. Seeing in his head his little brother assigning tasks to everyone, he felt so proud of him. But it wasn't something that Albert helped him with it, he had no part in it.
He could only cry in his armchair by the fireplace, unable to fully rejoice in their happiness, in a world where nothing was right. It all hurt, and yet it wasn't unfair. So little could hurt Albert, but the fact that he was no good to his loved ones, that they bloomed like flowers without him, was the worst that could happen to him, his greatest fault, his greatest sin. His belief in justice was always strong and drove him forward in everything he did. Sinners and perpetrators deserved punishment. He picked up the needles from the floor and, on an impulse, swung to stab the sharp part of them into his left hand. He was prepared for the pain that was to come, he wanted it. He didn't think about how he would clean up the spilled blood, the only thing that mattered was putting things as they should be, the black and white version of punishing himself.
Someone held his forearm, blocking his violent swing. Now they were both breathing heavily, thinking about why Albert wanted to hurt himself so badly. The man himself stopped sobbing, opened his eyes wider, as if to take a closer look at the situation and understand why he had been stopped, and looked up.
“Louis…” he put on his calm, collected voice, trying to turn such a sad, perhaps confusing situation into something more cheerful. “I didn't notice you.”
Louis didn't respond to his words. He just wrapped his arms around his brother. The hug was warm and nice, just right for Albert. He shook a little in the hug, with one last sob before he calmed down. His brother's gesture didn't seem deserved, but it was just kind and would allow him to return to his usual, calm state.
“Is it better now?” Louis finally asked, releasing him from the hug but still kneeling by his chair to be close and able to support him.
"Nothing bad even happened" he replied, not intending to lie to him, just not knowing how to describe what had happened. Maybe it would be easier if he understood his emotions, but the truth was he had no idea what he was feeling. “How long have you been here?”
”I wanted to check what's up” his brother explained. He didn't seem happy about the invasion of Albert's privacy, he was quite contrite and apologetic about it, but he was even more concerned and proud of himself for having managed to prevent a disaster. "I was here a while ago, when you wanted to hurt yourself...”
“Sorry. It shouldn't happen again” Albert assured him. He meant it. As he cooled down a bit, the impulsive thought of harming himself no longer seemed so tempting. “It was difficult, but what you did helped me, thank you.”
“There's nothing to be thankful for, really,” Louis finally smiled, that gentle, caring smile of his. He stood up and took the needles from his brother's hands, placing them on the table next to him. He also picked up the yarn lying on the ground and placed them next to the knitting needles. He didn't even realize how much it was stressing him out that things were in a different place than they were supposed to be, but after Louis sorted them out, everything was easier. “Have you made sweaters? It's a bit early to start preparing gifts.”
He was right. The beginning of December, full of rain and ice, freezing windows, but at the same time completely snowless, might seem a strange time to get ready for the holidays. However, Albert needed a lot of time if he wanted to do everything he had planned, and Louis, despite his surprise, had nothing against it. He looked with interest at the first woolen stitches his brother had made before his breakdown, as if they were the greatest work of art he had ever seen.
“I had ambitious plans” Albert laughed, really happy to see Louis interested and to be able to answer these questions. “I wanted to give you all the overdue gifts as a Christmas surprise. Although it won't be unexpected anymore now that I've told you about it.”
“I've always been fascinated by the way you make them” Louis admitted, placing his hand over his heart in a gesture of sincere admiration. “Knitting is a difficult job... At least it looks like it.”
“No no. It's actually quite simple. Just knit stitches. First you have to learn how to knit them on and cast them off. I use about two hundred stitches for one sweater.. And finally you have to sew the elements knitted this way” he began to explain with passion. Although he may not have been very expressive, his eyes shone, they were full of self-satisfaction that Albert felt at being able to pass on all the knowledge he knew to his brother. “Not that I'm any good at it myself. This year I didn't even have an idea for a pattern to knit.”
“Well, maybe you'd better keep it simple” Louis suggested, having no real idea on how to solve Albert's problem, but very much trying to help somehow.
“I wanted it to be special and to show you how much I care about you and how much I regret how much I missed you” he said calmly, as always maintaining control over the situation, even though he was admitting his feelings. He had never been particularly open with them, with a calculated plan, with calculated actions, but when it came to talking to Louis, things might have been a little different. “I wanted it to be an expression of how important you are to me.”
“But, Albert... We know this well. And without a gift, every person who knows you knows how dedicated and loyal you are to the cause. How much you care about me, William, and dare I suggest, even Moran and Fred. After all, we know that the prison sentence you sentenced yourself to was not an escape from us and that you wanted to be with us. You don't have to compensate us with anything” Louis seemed very worried, but also confident in his words. He really cared about how his brother felt.
These words were enough to ignite something in Albert's heart beyond the burning need to do everything as best as he could. A strange feeling suddenly appeared within him, not like a burning fire, but rather like a pleasant warmth. Maybe he really had reason to be proud of himself. Maybe it was his intentions that were most important, not how many sweaters he would actually make or what pattern he would choose for them. As long as he had Louis with him, ready to advise him and encourage him, he would be able to do anything. This is what the world was for him, where everything was in its place and as it was supposed to be.
“Will you stay for a moment?” Albert suggested in a pleading tone. “I wanted to go back to knitting, but I don't want to be left alone.”
“Of course, I'm in no hurry. I just have a small request. Can I watch what you do and learn a bit myself?” a shy smile appeared on the blond man's face, which had been a rarer sight there lately, more often replaced by an image of self-confidence. But Albert loved his brother whether he was more proud or humble. The most important thing was that he was just himself. “I must secretly tell you that in the years you were gone... I tried to make sweaters for others, to keep your tradition. I was never as good as you.”
Albert only laughed, but happily started talking about everything he knew and demonstrating what it took to knit. No self-destructive thoughts entered his mind anymore, all that mattered was spending time with his brother.
They spent the rest of the day knitting, sitting in their armchairs, telling each other stories and enjoying the upcoming Christmas. The peace at last there was truly comforting and soothing. He truly believed that everything was as it should be.
He wasn't surprised when the green yarn disappeared the next day. He suspected that this year he would not only give ugly sweaters to his loved ones, but would also receive one himself. He wondered if his brother would put them under the Christmas tree in one package with the wine that, despite his own assurances that the beginning of December was early time to prepare gifts, Louis was already hiding that as a future present for him at the bottom of his closet.