Jim Moriarty sat on a park bench, chewing gum and listening to music. It wasn't an interesting day. The sky was clouded and people were moving about their daily business. No one paid any attention to Jim. He was just another citizen to them. Not one of them would have suspected they were walking past a master criminal. After half an hour of taking in his surroundings Moriarty decided to leave. He flicked his phone out of his pocket, stood, spat out his gum – causing him to get a look from a blonde woman walking by – and began to text.
Small fish captured in picture.
To anyone who had seen that message it wouldn't have made any sense. But Moriarty knew the person he had sent it to would understand.
It was a 20 minute walk to the docks. It would have been quicker, but Moriarty wanted to look good, so had switched clothing from casual to smart. He stood with one hand in his pocket, leaning on a bar by the edge of the dock, making sure he didn't get rust on his dark blue jacket by placing his other hand in the way.
It was another 15 minutes before the man he was waiting for showed up.
"Ah, Joseph. I was wondering when you'd get here." Moriarty smirked, his Irish accent seeming threatening, yet gentle at the same time.
"I told you Jim, I don't play…"
"IT'S MORIARTY TO YOU!" Jim almost screamed. "DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND?!"
"I understand completely. You've been sending me text riddles for a month. Small fish caught in a picture. Fish – fishing, happens at these docks. Picture – famous painting painted here. Simple clue. But for what point?"
"Because it's fun." Jim shrugged. His demeanour had changed completely, almost as if he'd forgotten he shouted moments before. "And because this is the end."
"For you or for me?"
"Oh, you naturally. But that may change - I wanted your opinion on a certain matter." He paused. "Have you heard of Sherlock Holmes?"
"Who hasn't?"
"Well, I set up a game for him, just like I did you. There's just one more round to go. I think he's nearly there. And I need to win. I need to SURVIVE. Much like he wants to." He giggled. "But he won't."
"What is it?"
"How can one shoot themselves in the head and make it convincing without actually killing themselves?"
Time passed, and soon their conversation was at an end. Moriarty walked away, his phone buzzing as a text came in.
Come and play. Bart's Hospital Rooftop SH PS. Got something of yours you might want back.
Moriarty smiled. He shook his foot to clean it, as it squelched slightly in the red liquid that slowly ran off the docks and into the river.