“As long as I’m alive, you can save your friends.” I told him on the rooftop. “You’ve got a way out.” He looked at me with a certain sense of relief, although it was fleeting because we both knew it really wouldn’t be that easy. Even the great Sherlock Holmes didn’t have a way out of this one.
I had promised Sherlock at the pool that I would be responsible for his death, and I guess I always knew that it would somehow involve my own. After all, without little old James Moriarty most of the interesting cases would never occur and Sherlock would be bored far too often. It makes sense that if we were to go, it would be together. You can’t have one of us without the other. Without Sherlock and his little puppy dog, things would be much less fun around here.
But my web of crime isn’t just there for Sherlock. No, no, no; there is so much more to it than that. It needs to thrive even after my time. Correct? But if I die, then the centre collapses. Without me the web would dismantle. Without me there would be no web.
So that’s it. My criminal line is over.
Not quite, my friend.
I knew that one day I would die, many years before my time. I knew that someone would have to take over my criminal web. I needed a successor. Someone to be the next in line. A child. Now you can laugh. Can you really imagine me as a father? It makes me laugh too.
And think of me with a wife too. Where am I going to find someone as evil and intelligent as I? And how would I seduce her?
The plan was simple. Every year from the age of 19 until 25 I was able to find someone. They needed to fit some very specific criteria.
1)They must be single, young women.
2)I must be able to seduce them for a night.
3)They must be oblivious enough while drunk to forget protection.
4)They must be willing to keep the baby.
5)They must be able to produce highly intelligent and, more likely than not, evil offspring.
You’ll be surprised how many women there are like that around.
Every year I managed to be responsible for the birth of a child. I would keep some contact with the mother until they got to schooling age, and even then I would keep a watchful eye on their development. The mothers seem to have forgotten about me. That is exactly what I planned.
All 6 children turned out to be girls, and I’m not sure how to feel about it. I can tell they are all incredibly intelligent and gifted, but they all have obvious flaws I can only hope are cured with exposure to each other. I wish I could have got to know them better, but I can only hope they will do the job well.
So this is it. My final scene. The curtain is closing on the life of Jim Moriarty. What a shame. There are so many things I would have liked to have done. At least I’ll get to see Sherlock down in hell with me.
“Well good luck with that.”
As I pulled the gun from my pocket I realised I had forgot to send the message to my daughters. Damn. I sure hope they can work it out for themselves.
Who am I kidding? They are my daughters; of course they can work it out.
Sherlock let go of my hand with a shocked look and stumbled backwards before a crack rattled through my ears and my vision turned red then black.