AN: A side-fic to 'Unreachable'. This time it _is_ in Moriarty's POV. Meant to be more humorous than Unreachable, and it's somewhat less...thought-out. Funny thing about it is, I wrote these exactly a week apart - both on Sundays. Hmm.
It's disgusting, that's what it is. Simply abominable. There's no other word for it.
Despite my objection to his existence, I hold - somewhat reluctantly, I admit - a good deal of respect for Holmes. So few in the world - then or now - can equal my intellect, and Holmes is one of those. He is a worthy opponent.
Well, he was. Whether he continues to remain so is a matter of some uncertainty.
I thought that I could somewhat understand Holmes. He is actually rather similar to myself, in some respects. So if _I_ found the Inspector...attractive...I suppose that he might as well. After all, she has shown intelligence, wit, and no small amount of bravery - traits that both of us admire. She's beautiful, too, and though we both have reputations of being cold-blooded, we aren't _that_ cold-blooded.
Yes, in the privacy of my own mind I can admit it: I have a certain fondness for that Inspector. Not enough to overshadow the fact that she is a zealot, a Yardie and worst of all a Sherlockian.
On the off-side, I have always found it somewhat incredible that Holmes has fans - thousands of fans - world-wide - who apparently have nothing better to do than to read about him, discuss him, and even draw and write about their idealized conception of the man.
No, I am _not_ jealous. I'm just appalled that so many could waste so much of their time.
*cough* ANYWAY, getting back to the topic at hand. So, despite my natural animosity towards the Inspector (really, I deserve at least a human pronoun, don't I? Calling me an 'it'?) I can sort of appreciate why Holmes would be interested in her.
However, his decision to _marry_ her strikes me as utter lunacy.
Being attracted is one thing, proposing is another. Doesn't he realize how binding this is? How final? There's a huge chance they'll split up, you know. Statistics show that nearly half of married couples divorce. And they're always arguing. Oh, sure, let them call it bantering. An argument's an argument. And...
Oh, all right. I'll admit it. Their arguing hasn't the sheer malicious spite that characterizes those of couples about to break up. And they seem to make up for the arguments readily enough. And I will admit that the statistics don't take into account such factors as shared life-death experiences, and the like.
Still! That makes it worse! ...in a way. Why, you ask?
This is going to be hard for me, so don't interrupt. *deep breath* They...are...in...love. Oh, that sounds so sickening. Don't make me repeat it.
What's the problem, you ask, if they're in love? It's what love _does_ to a person! Love...is like a disease. I've seen people in love. It's like having a hole knocked into the back of their head and their wits dribble out slowly through it. There's a reason that you use a word connected with painful accidents for this phenomenon -'fall'. Suggests all sorts of painful missteps, doesn't it?
Holmes knew that! In fact, he was the one who most embodied the principle of that!
So what in heaven's name is he doing getting married?
Mark my words. They'll start to slip. Some googly-eyes when they should have been watching me; too busy thinking about the other when they should be analyzing my crimes; and then it'll get worse.
This is going to take some of the fun out of conquering New London. What good are handicapped enemies?
Further AN: Poor Moriarty. He really doesn't know how to take this, does he?