Afternoon.

Same Day.

Time often passed quickly much more than one might desire to reference – perhaps, it fleeted more if one were ever to be disconsolate. Yes, Moriaty was having a blue day – that should count as enough reason for her day to be dismally dispiriting and bereft of any form of joy. She barely even noticed the day was ebbing faster than she could imagine.

Temporarily blinded by a flashing ray of illumination, Moriaty saw a group of glaziers that were trying to reposition a gilded piece of architecture on a building. She winced and covered her eyes. As she regained her composure, she caught sight of another member of the Lovecraft family metres ahead. Although he seemed to be in an isolated spot – an even quieter part of the town where he was gazing at the verdant overview of the town’s landscape, she couldn’t miss him. No thanks to his frizzy hairstyle – it was no other person but Basil. No one could possibly miss him in a gathering. His outstanding hair would definitely make him easily identifiable from anywhere in a crowd. He seemed quite dreary – everyone was having a dark, gloomy day. What seemed crystal to Moriaty was that he was dealing with the loss of his friend and family member in his own way, like everyone else. There was no way she could reach him in time as he could be unpredictable. If he were to see her before she got to his location, he might just disappear. And there were too many people around for her to push through the crowd. In a split moment of decision making, she power-walked towards him, hoping to catch him past the crowd.

Arriving before him, she placed her hand on his shoulder gently, nudging him where he sat. He flinched, turning on her quickly in self-defence. He had been comfortable on the bench up until that moment. “It’s only I, Basil,” she started faintly. Basil blinked to notice that it was Moriaty. He kept mute for a few seconds. He looked emaciated and sleep-deprived. His eyes were bloodshot; a sign of excessive drinking. A foul smell reeked from his breath and a much stronger unpleasant odour was all over his clothes. It didn’t take much effort for her to distinctively discover it was a mixture of sweat and rounds of alcohol.

Moriaty covered her nose with her hands before she pretentiously barfed, no thanks to the pungent and putrid smell that ponged all over him. “Have you been drinking, Basil?”

The smell was bad but bearable. Moriaty spread out her legs as far as the gown would allow her. She was frustrated by his actions, no doubt. He said nothing, and then belched loudly without a care. She pulled back and recoiled as his foul breath reached her face. He opened his mouth toward her meaning to address him – he could only manage a belch.

“By heavens, you stink!” she exclaimed.

He hiccupped a few times, staring blankly at her. Then out of the blue, he held his stomach and retched up vomitus all over his feet. Moriaty ducked just in time to eschew him from soiling her clothes.

“Gosh, Basil. Pull yourself together,” she chided.

Basil retched more, spitting what was left of his vomitus all over the ground. Some splattered on the seam of her gown. She cursed out loudly, infuriated by his puerile actions. “For fuck’s sake, Basil! Remove your head from your stinking ass and get yourself together!”

A few heads turned toward them; her voice seemed to have drawn unwanted attention. He didn’t seem moved by her calumny however. He was as obstinate as a child. Moriaty sighed, definitely exhausted. She lowered her voice and patted him on the back. “You should get yourself cleaned up. This doesn’t befit you. At least not before all these humans,” she reminded him. He cleared his throat and spat at her feet. She pulled away just in time to let the spittle land on the gritty sand. He eyed her contemptuously.

“If I wanted a lecture I would have asked you for one” Basil replied with disdain. He didn’t seem flustered by her presence or words.

This led Moriaty to exhale with frustration, but that wouldn’t stop her from reaching out to him. Her voice was calmer and gentler. “I know you’re hurting, Brock was close to you, more than he was to most of us. We do know,” Moriaty explained, trying to understand him. She wanted to let him know he was not the only one missing the departed Brock. That Basil wasn’t the only one bereaved because of his absence. She was also trying to make small talk but Basil didn’t seem to desire to respond in a way that would make her feel comfortable.

“You know nothing!” Basil snapped. Moriaty jumped in her skin, taken aback by his hostile reactions. After regaining her composure, she forcefully got in his sight, blocking his gaze. “Well, even if I’m younger than you are, I do know drowning your sorrows with poison isn’t going to solve anything,” Moriaty explained.

Infuriated and disrespected, Moriaty could have just left him to his misery and allow him to wallow in his drunken state all in the name of mourning Brock’s passing. She understood how he felt – she was in his shoes. And even though she was a woman and was expected to be sentimental, she seemed to have carried herself well in public, however strained the tragedy had been on her, no doubt.

That doesn’t mean he could get a free pass to trounce on anyone because he was in a sorry state. If he were to remain in that stupor and her father continued to lock himself up, how many of them would be left to keep the family running, Moriaty thought in question.

Calmly deducing a better way to handle the situation, Moriaty needed to berate him on the importance of restraint when it mattered most. She turned to him. “You need to learn to control yourself even if things get bad. You cannot always expect things to be rosy forever. There’ll always be a time when our lives will be punctuated by sad events. We just have to keep our heads low and our shoulders higher so we may continue to live.” She studied his features, hoping her words were having any significant effect on his mien. “Besides, that’s what father would have wanted,” she quickly added.

Basil gazed into her eyes. “It’s what father would have wanted? Really? That’s your next line of defence, huh?” he asked sarcastically.

Moriaty was shocked. What have I done wrong this time? She mused.

Just about to erupt, Basil wasn’t finished with her. He sat up and faced her squarely. “You know what, I’m getting rather bored with your perfect attitude to everything. Aren’t you? It’s kind of pretentious don’t you think?” complained Basil.

Moriaty scoffed. That was a new shade of low from him. The gods be damned, if he continued this way, he would probably end up in the gutters. “Pretentious you say? How have I been that? The last time I checked, all I’ve been trying to do is help, Basil.” She cast him a disgusted look. “And judging from the look of things, you really do need my help.”

Basil smirked. “Help? Your help? Why would I possibly need that, tell me?”

“Yes. You do. After all, we’re supposed to count on each other in desperate times and look after each other how best we can, in times like this, most especially,” Moriaty continued.

“Well, it may come as a shocker to you, my dear,” Basil groaned with sarcasm tainting his lips. “But, I don’t seem to need your help. Heck, that’s the last thing I could possibly need right now. I’d rather dip my head in my ass than ever ask for your help, girl,” he mocked her.

“You clearly need help with all these shenanigans coming out of your mouth, Basil,” Moriaty continued mortified by his words.

“Not so! I don’t care if you feel obligated to look after me or not. I believe I don’t need your help – I can take care of myself.” Basil groaned.

Moriaty stared at him with an open mouth as he raved on and on. That wouldn’t stop Basil from complaining of her ignorance towards him.

“You never bothered before. Heck, we never really ever trade words, do we? I can count the number of times you and I have ever spoken to each other since you’ve come of age. Just a quick question: Why now? What changed all of a sudden?” Basil enquired.

Moriaty barked at him. “You poor thing! You really do not know, do you? Have you been living under a rock all this time?”

Staring at her blankly, Basil’s muted responses only succeeded in getting Moriaty even more irate.

“Because we’re family and that’s what we’re supposed to do. I can’t believe you! We are now and we’ll always be family. Let that sink into your darn head!” shrieked Moriaty.

Basil didn’t seem perturbed by her words. Rather, he challenged her once more. “Well technically we are not genetically related. The only reason why you want to talk to me, all of a sudden, is because you need someone to confide in – and you and I both know that was who Brock was to you.” He studied her features as they changed. He knew he had sucker-punched her where it mattered most. Perhaps, she would let him be.

Moriaty sighed as her head dropped to her feet. Basil didn’t back off. He continued to pelt her with negative comments. “Where is he? Where is your favoured Brock now?” He spread his arms wide, his gaze darting from one side to the other. “He isn’t here to babysit you anymore.”

This moved Moriaty to tears. All that kept her together was the fact that she was stronger and tougher than most seem to consider her.

Regardless of upsetting her in the hidden part of the town open for gazing at its backdrop, Basil continued to groan more nonetheless. “And with Marimbo keeping to himself, it seems my guess is right that you’re a lonely little girl who wants some attention at all cost. You’ve got no one to be chatty with, do you?” Basil coldly mocked her.

Moriaty shook her head softly. It hit her right there and then. He’s right. Maybe I do want attention. Isn’t that why I wandered away from home because I couldn’t get any comfort. She thought.

Seeing him in such despair and blurting out such honesty, Moriaty couldn’t blame Basil – not for lack of trying. Though, Moriaty just thought he was relatively right with all the thorny vilification he had barraged her with. For what it was worth, she had never really got to know Basil. Heck, this might just be the first time they were having a serious conversation ever since he was accepted as a Lovecraft. Yet, despite the bad blood that might exist between both of them, there was one thing they shared in common though – that was the matchless and strong bond that they had for Brock. Perhaps, that was why she thought she could relate with him in the first place.

Moriaty had to try one last time though. There was no possible succour in getting stoned because Brock was no more. It would help if they both could pull each other together and get over the hurt that plagued their troubled hearts.

Basil retrieved a bottle of rum that had nearly been emptied. He grinned as he raised it to his mouth and attempted to take a long gulp of whatever contents remained in the bottle. In a moment of concerned fury, Moriaty whacked the bottle out of his hand with calculated precision. The intensity was nearly enough to shatter the tough glass. “Would you quit gulping down that liquid!” she yelled at him.

Basil burped loudly. “I’m getting wasted. And that’s my issue. It’s how I deal with my problems. I don’t bloody need anyone telling me that everything is going to be okay because I know it isn’t.” He retched again, a few times before he raised his head and continued leaving Moriaty further rattled. “You’re an idealist which is why you need someone to give you that sense of security. Because you need them to tell you everything will be all right. Heck, you wouldn’t even mind if they held your hand, patted you on the back and told you such a lie – even though you and I both know nothing is farther from the truth than that. Well sorry to break this to you – I’m not; I am a realist. And despite that, we might not have agreed on a lot of things but it was something Brock himself valued while he was alive,” Basil moaned.