Not a Walk around the Park

"Watson, get him NOW!" Holmes shouted as the duo chased Moriarty—again. Moriarty stole some gold in a gambling station. Now, Moriarty knew wherever he went, the duo would track him down, up to the tiny footprints he left. He ran around shortcuts, which, unfortunately, Watson came through to chase him while Holmes will corner him. But Moriarty got out of it again—he went inside a small crevice the two never thought of seeing.

"Watson, if you did not eat too much, you could have chased Moriarty without getting a stitch!" Holmes complained. Watson just quieted himself. Mrs. Hudson came from laundry. Holmes went out. And he slammed the door. Ouch...

Moriarty came about the bushes. There, he held a rattling gun full of bullets. Like a lion stalking his prey, Moriarty hid, and waited for the right time. Holmes came out of the apartment. BOOM! A rattling sound was heard. Moriarty was like a madman shooting the raging bullets. Luckily, Holmes dodged them. But, as Moriarty raged another wave of great bullets, Holmes was hit on the arm. It was no serious injury—if the bullet was clean and rust-free. But the bullets used were rusty. In rage, Holmes got HIS gun and shot Moriarty with it. Unfortunately, it was his right arm that was shot. So, he couldn't fight properly. So, with sharp eyes, Holmes went back in. "Don't say a tiny word, Watson." Holmes said with any icy gaze. Watson stopped himself once more.

Holmes still was in an eager mood to finish Moriarty once and for all. With his bad arm in a sling, Holmes went alone at Midnight to Moriarty's 'hiding holes'. Moriarty was sharpening a pair of blades. Holmes approached the old enemy, and Moriarty threw the blades right at Holmes! Holmes got the blades with a swift left hand. And he placed them over a hot fire, working them out to be longer and sharper. Suddenly, after the two blades became four-pointed-ninja-weapons, Holmes flung them at Moriarty, leaving him pinned to the wall. There, Holmes went back to the flat, almost happy he had given at least a few drops of medicine to Moriarty.

The next day came. A new dawn arose. A new adventure went. Holmes quickly got up. He ate almost no more than a piece of toast, and then scurried off. It was odd. Holmes was always hungry. Holmes always went out slowly. What seemed to pull back his appetite? It might be Mrs. Hudson's tea blend was too bitter? Or maybe she burnt his toast? Nah, it is impossible. Mrs. Hudson knew the right mixture—every...freaking...time! And, the old landlady NEVER burns his toast. So, what could have got him weird?!

Well, apparently, Holmes wanted to give even MORE medicine down Moriarty's thorn-filled throat. Holmes wore his trench coat and fedora. He prepared his shot gun, bristling with newly-sharpened bullets. But, thinking Moriarty would acquire an even bigger hazard; Holmes had fixed the shotgun aside, and prepared his own hand-to-hand combat instead.

Soon enough, Holmes was in Moriarty's place. Soon, Moriarty came out and broke into a wide grin that would make a grown man...RUN! Moriarty smirked "Hm...you want hand-to-hand combat eh? Well, how about starting now?" And he started to push Holmes with his sandpaper-rough hands. Holmes tried with all his might to attack, but his wound from the previous duel. With that, Holmes fell down headlong into the deep canyon.