Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes characters.
These are some of the most difficult questions answered! Have you ever wondered why does Moriaty have such bad haircut? Why does Sherlock Holmes keep his tobacco in the toes of his Persian slipper? Why does Holmes afraid of spiders? Find out more in the chapters:)
Why does Moriaty have such a bad haircut?
He sat, hunched back on the tall stool in his science laboratory, pouring out a filthy green chemical, a combination of madness and greed dancing in his eyes as he watched the chemical bubbling in the test-tube.
"This will be the end of him! This is it!" he whispered excitedly. He clapped his hands together in anticipation. After five years of hard work, he had finally succeeded. Carefully, he added the brown powder into the green, slimy substances.
"This will add to the deadliness of the poison, would it not, Mike?" he laughed, a high-pitched cruel laugh. His assistant, who was standing right next to him, smirked. He was getting sick of the detective, always jumping down his throat; this would be an end of the great Sherlock Holmes. All it would take was a small drop of his master's mixture and they would be in peace forever.
"Mike, watch carefully, do not even blink, and look at what is about to happen," Moriaty snapped. He adjusted the flames of the Bunsen burner, leaving the substance to simmer. After a mere five minutes, the green slime started to boil, tiny bubbles started appearing at the side of the test-tube, then suddenly, there was a loud bang and the green slime changed into a colorless liquid, almost like pure water, but more than a million times more deadlier.
Moriaty threw his hands up and laughed wit joy. Nothing could stop him now. Grabbing Mike's hand and the small test-tube of his work, he started jumping up and down, dancing around in the science lab laboratory, heedless of the chemicals that he was knocking off the shelves.
"Come on! Mike! Look at what we have made! It is a success! IT IS A SUCCESS!" Moriaty screamed into the night, waking up half of the street, wringing Mike round and round the laboratory like a rag doll, and himself dancing the can-can, waltz, and mambo.
"Um, master?" Mike panted. Moriaty ignored him.
"Once I have killed Holmes, I would be the greatest in the world!" Moriaty yelled in triumph.
"Um, Master? Please?" Mike pleaded.
"…..then I would be able to do whatever I please! No more restrictions! NO MORE!" Moriaty shrieked, prancing around in the room.
"MASTER! LOOK WHERE YOU ARE GOING!" Mike bellowed.
"……and I would be able to rob the entire City and Suburban Bank! Take over three quarter of London, have my name on the National Museum, and receive the Nobel Prize for the best chemist in the worl- AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!?!?!?!"
In his excitement, our dear professor Moriaty did not see a stool behind him. He tripped, arms flailing and his head plunged into the……..Okay, let's just say the place where you lit fires.
Mike hurried forward and pulled the poor professor out of the fireplace. The professor's head looked like a burnt egg. Mike then looked at the empty test-tube in the unconscious professor's hand. Not a drop of the chemical was left.