Summary
Set after the great game, but before the happening with Miss Alder. Sherlock goes for coffee, had thinks about his most interesting enemy yet. I own nothing.
Just Another Day
Walking down the snowy streets of London, Sherlock decided that, just for a change, he would go and pick up a cup of coffee in the local café. He had nothing better to do, after all.
As he walked in, he took in the usual scene. The worker behind the counter, wondering whether he should leave his girlfriend for the woman who gave him her number earlier. A woman, dressed smartly, yet the bags under her eyes, and uneven makeup told a different story, mainly consisting of her being over worked, though not underpaid, but certainly over exhausted. This was only confirmed by the sweet aroma of strong coffee, with way too much sugar in it coming from the relatively large mug in her hands.
Other than these two people, the café was quiet, the snow keeping everyone inside, in the warmth of their homes. The counters were generally clean, though still slightly sticky from sills and such, the chair were all tucked under equally clean tables, and the old, small television was turned to a music channel, and playing quiet music into the calm setting.
Ordering his coffee, he sat down in the far corner, and decided to let his ever racing mind wander to what ever happened to cross his mind.
The guy being the counter brought over his coffee and set it and a small pot of sugar on the able in from of the consulting detective. As he picked up his cup of steaming beverage, he heard the song on the television change to a new one, and immediately recognised the guitar introduction. As he took a minute to blow into the mug, he though about a particular someone, and how the song sort of fitted him, though the consulting detective acknowledged somewhere in his vast brain space, that it probably wasn't Moriarty's cup of tea.
Hearing the whooping and enthusiasm right at the beginning certainly held the madman's flare for the dramatic.
Darling you got to let me knowShould I stay or should I go? If you say that you are mineI'll be here 'til the end of timeSo you got to let me knowShould I stay or should I go?
Well, he did always say that they were made for each other, though he rather thought that mortal enemies, destined to fight for the sake of not being bored, was not what the writers of the song had in mind.
Always tease tease teaseYou're happy when I'm on my kneesOne day is fine, next day is blackSo if you want me off your backWell come on and let me knowShould I stay or should I go?
And he was always pushing Sherlock to be defeated, to get him "on his knees" so to speak. There was also the element that one day everything would be fine, and suddenly a bomb goes off somewhere, or someone's been kidnapped, or some other seeming dramatic thing Moriarty had done, because he had been bored for too long, and wanted to play. And though he would never say so, Sherlock knew that he did enjoy their little games, but the proud man would never let the consulting criminal know that.
Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be troubleAn' if I stay it will be doubleSo come on and let me know!
And besides, there would always be trouble, always be someone doing something wrong somewhere, but they were just so easy to catch, so easy to defeat. Mr Moriarty, though he caused "double" the trouble for the high functioning sociopath, made things interesting, and actually presented a challenge for the genius.
This indecision's bugging meIf you don't want me, set me freeExactly whom I'm supposed to beDon't you know which clothes even fit me? Come on and let me knowShould I cool it or should I blow? Split!
Ahh, he was always indecisive. "I'm so changeable!" The cheery and oddly playful voice popped up from the recesses of his mind, and reminded him of a time of betrayal, loyalty, and deception, all by the side of the pool of water. Where it had all started; his first real challenge.
But he couldn't unleash Moriarty on the world, he couldn't just let go. Part of it was his miniscule humanity, brought out by his doctor friend, however, a bigger, and possibly insane, part of it was his addiction, his need to feed his never ending curiosity, and his ego, that must always be proven right.
Should I stay or should I go now? Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be troubleAnd if I stay it will be doubleSo you gotta let me knowShould I cool it or should I go?
Should I stay or should I go now? If I go there will be troubleAnd if I stay it will be doubleSo you gotta let me knowShould I stay or should I go?As the song went on, he thought over all he had seen from his rival. The pure insanity, the reason for everything, but at the same time, no reason what so ever. But Sherlock understood. He understood the maddening boredom, the fact that everything he saw had to be explained, because people just didn't understand. He even understood the lack of empathy to the victims and to the criminals who had done wrong, but had gotten caught.
But just because he understood it, didn't make it right. It just meant he had another weapon to use against the man.
So as he sat there, drinking the remainder of his coffee, musing over past triumphs and victories on his part, and the losses faced on Moriarty's part, though it never seemed to put a dent in the psychopaths' armour, he contemplated the idea of how long it would be until he caught wind of Moriarty again.
After all, he was getting bored.