Spoilers: Up to end of Season 2.
A/N: Written sort of anon (under "becauseuaskedforit") for s0changeable on tumblr asking for a fic and am now owning up to it. Consider it Role-play of Jim Moriarty writing fic for a Sherlock believer in canon-verse or a fic within a fic. Either way it's an odd one and it's very silly poetry, but maybe someone else will enjoy, so here it is universe.
A fannnn-fic in your ask? Oh demanding, aren't we. A girl after my own heart. Betcha can't find it. Oodles of fun to watch you people try. Still I can't resist telling a tale or two, a favour *just* for you. Always pays to be owed. No, no money, I swear. It's all for pleasure. I do hope the price will be worth it though. We'll see one day, won't we, my sweet new friend. ;) - Jim M
Sir Boast-a-lot was a dreadful bore
He liked to deduce he did not snore
Everyone in the kingdom knew
His faithful manservant, as if on cue
Cast a spell, so no lies he could tell
Everything was magically swell…
Til the day, he had to say
On a dragon, 'I, you will not sway
I need no weapon except the truth
There is no mistake of my youth
No heart to pierce beneath my shield
No loyalty sharp for which I would yield
No brethren voice behind my rally'
Wherein he could not speak, all dilly-dally
And in surprise, a fall he took
A failing pride, that they mistook
For death, what a mess
But tis not the end, I must confess