Discovered Feelings... For Moriarty?
A Blog by Sherlock Holmes
Those of you reading this may find it hard to believe, but I have
solved a mystery which was unbeknownst to me before I found the answer.
I must have subconsciously gathered the clues together in my brain, for
before I knew it I had realized... I am undoubtedly attracted to Jim
Moriarty. Yes, I know what you're thinking. Two questions are popping
into your tiny little brains right now. 1: I thought you weren't
attracted to people. Technically, that isn't a question, more of an
assumption, but it's true. I'm really not attracted to people. 2: Why
would you be attracted to a man who is your worst enemy? (Next to
Mycroft, that is.) Well, that will be explained shortly. By the time I
am finished this blog even your inferior brains will be able to firmly
grasp the concept of my undeniable attraction to this evil mastermind
and you will believe it 100 per cent.
I shall give the clues that my brain recently acquired. Let us
start with before I had ever even heard of the man. During my first
real case with John, the "Study in Pink", as he called it in his
terribly sentimental blog, he informed me that Sally Donovan told him
that I like what I do; that I "get off" on it. And it is quite true.
Nothing gives me as much pleasure, or, I'll admit, sexually stimulates
me as much as an intricate crime, especially murder. The most difficult
crimes with deep-thinking problems are the ones that arouse me the
most. There is no greater high for me than that brought by a good crime.
The second main clue, more of a fact than a clue really, was found
when I first saw Moriarty in person by the pool. Remember when he asked
whether it was a gun in my pocket or I was just happy to see him? My
reply was "both". I didn't lie. I had an erection. If you play back the
clip, you'll still see a bulge in my pants after I take the gun out and
point it at the man. No, don't look now. Get off of youtube, you idiot.
Good, now listen to me. I was in fact turned on by his ability to
create the perfect puzzles for my brain. His genius intrigues my genius
and his mysteries bring me the greatest sexual pleasure I've ever felt
in my life. ...Even I can't believe I really just said that. It's not
that I'm attracted to his personality or his being, I'm just attracted
by the exciting puzzles that he gives to my ever-so-bored brain.
The last clue I found is when Jim Moriarty spoke of the look of
surprise I would see on his face if I shot him, which would in truth be
quite surprising. The very obvious reason I would never shoot this man
is simply because... I could not live without him. What? You don't get
it? Do I really have to explain this too you? You're so stupid, you
can't figure this out by using your puny intellects? No, it's not
because I love him, you stupid imbeciles. I can't live without him
because his immensely interesting crimes are the one thing I live for.
If the man who created the mysteries I live to solve was dead, I would
be so dreadfully bored I would no doubt kill myself of boredom, unless
another man with an equal criminal intellect were to appear, which is
impossible. I doubt there could ever be a man that is as good a
criminal as Jim Moriarty, just as there isn't a man who is as good a
crime-solver as me. What? You say I'm bragging? Oh, shut up! You know
it's true. Let me continue. It is a fact that I need him in order to
live. I need his crimes, his murders, his mysteries and puzzles. I am
so terribly attached to them that if he was no more, I wouldn't be able
to live with myself.
I do hope you see now. You can't possibly be that freaking dense, can
you? Surely you understand that by being the creator of the one thing
that absolutely enthralls me and makes me feel alive, he is the one
human being that I can be so undeniably attracted too. I am not in love
with him, that I am certain of. For I do not and can not love without a
heart. Oh, please. Don't try to convince me now that I do have a heart.
Even I know I don't. Even if I did, I do not care one bit about the man
himself. All I care about are the wonderfully abstruse mysteries that
he creates for me in that extraordinary brain of his. The only brain in
the world that can make me so terribly... Hard.
As for "love", I suppose a good friendship is the closest thing to
it a man like myself can have. Ah, here is John now. I must log out
before he reads this.
SH 9/2/11