There were two of us called William, so I was Will, and he was Sherlock. Along with Victor Trevor, it was the three of us against the world.
At least, it was in our little pirate games.
For a while.
Then a real enemy arose, and Sherlock's sister started to destroy our little trio.
She snapped and killed Victor.
I remember that at Victor's funeral, Sherlock and I cried on each other's shoulders, wondering why Victor was in the coffin, wondering when he'd be back to finish our pirate game. At the time, Sherlock and I were almost-but-not-quite old enough to understand what happened. (Now that we're older, I still occasionally wonder if I would've been next, had Eurus not been sent away.)