A/N: In honor of Easter, April Fools, and by request of my brother, I give you another chapter of this story.

IMPORTANT: I don't think I'll ever continue the point of view in this chapter. I wrote the first part simply as a "what if" idea, and my brother asked for me to write the final scene you'll read in this chapter and post it here. And in the spirit of holidays, I complied.

Some of you have asked for this, and I tried to write it in a way that made it less OOC. In reality, it probably isn't anything like you wanted, but I'm only human. I was going to wait to post this until I was completely finished with this story (I've had it written since I started) but now it can just hold you over until I write the next chapter, yeah?

I'll respond to the reviews of the last chapter when I post the next one that's actually a part of the story. Sorry for the wait.

Enjoy the story!

Another day done, another criminal lead further down the path of villainy. Not bad for a day's work.

Jim Moriarty whistled a portion of Beethoven's Fifth softly as he sauntered down the street. He often encountered a lot of things while walking through London. A lot of things and a lot of people, though not a single person suspected who he was and how dangerous he could be.

But what he hadn't expected to encounter was a tiny sound. It was dainty. Weak. He followed his ears in the direction they took him, toward a foul-smelling box sagging against the side of one of the many buildings that blanketed the urban London. In big, scrawling letters that stretched like spider's legs across the rotting cardboard, words were written.

MOTHERLESS: PLEASE TAKE ONE

Moriarty peaked into the lid, discovering five tiny kittens inside. Each poor thing still too young to open its eyes. Probably starving and cold. Jim tipped his head as he observed them struggling against the walls of their cage, or huddling against each other, shivering for warmth. It was unfortunate; those creatures could have had the potential to grow into passive-aggressive felines with a high level of intelligence. Annoy many and enslave more. He'd always been of the opinion that cats were evil. His mother had owned one.

But needless suffering was a disadvantage. The tiny infants would cry and cry until they were too dead to do so. It had the potential of distraction. Upsetting who knew what and when. Just because someone encountered a box of kittens on their walk.

It had already distracted him for an amount of time longer than he had anticipated upon following his ears. And nose.

The Consulting Criminal sighed deeply. He would have to put them out of their misery.

But not here. Someone would notice a box of kittens that died of unnatural causes.

Moriarty leaned over and hefted the box before resuming his walk. He would kill them when he got home.

Though maybe they would be useful. Having pets would make him seem more human to those he wished to do business with. A few select people underestimating him wouldn't hurt. And this could be just the way to do it.

He looked down into the box. That was a good plan.

But if he was having pets, they would need names so that he could more easily distinguish and train them. And food. Upon realizing this, Moriarty froze mid-step. He had nothing in his memory about how to care for kittens. Not a slice of data. Not a leaf of information. That was not good. He would need to do some research.

Lots of research.

They were adorable. Not in the same way ordinary people are. More like… in the way small children were. So innocent. So capable of destruction and so blissfully unaware of their eventual death.

One of them, a particularly snobbish animal with dark fur, Jim had named Sherlock. After his new adversary. A genius of his own accord. It was brilliant. The feline liked high places and warm blankets.

The orange one, particularly stupid, Jim had named Watson. After Sherlock's own pet. And, as if inclined simply by nature of the name, Watson would always follow at the heels of Sherlock. It was pretty ridiculous. He wasn't inclined to like that very much.

The grey one, he named Westwood. It was posh, mature in name. And the animal itself was very calm. Collected. Jim appreciated Westwood.

The two brown kittens, one with slightly darker stripes than the other, were named Chocolate and Cookies respectively. These would be the cats he would use for manipulation. They were, by normal standards, cute and cuddly. They seemed to fight each other for entertainment, though, and Jim couldn't really blame them. Life was pretty boring without violence.

The cats did their jobs. Chocolate and Cookies caused many people to underestimate him, and it gave him the upper hand in a lot of situations. It gained him control easily. It was very fortunate. He loved when things worked out exactly as he planned. It showed his power. It showed his ability.

But it never tested it.

And that was no good at all.

He needed a plan. A game. A problem to solve. Or one to give. Maybe it was about time he introduced himself, officially, to the Great Sherlock Holmes.

But there needed to be a grand finale. A final round of the game. A final problem.

But what?

And there they started up again. Jim sighed deeply and leaned back in his chair. As the cats cried and cried from the other room, he reminded himself they were important to his work. They were noisy but important. And sacrifices must be made.

He stood and walked into the place they were in, wanting to see what all the noise was about. On top of one of the cabinets, high on the wall, was Sherlock and Westwood. Both perched on the thin platform. Down on the floor, Watson was mewing and crying and pacing all in agitation. As if berating the two animals for being up there in the first place. Then, rather suddenly, Westwood nudged one of Sherlock's paws right out from under him, causing the cat to lose his balance. And he fell off.

The cat landed on his feet, as they always seemed to, completely unharmed. But an idea came to Jim's mind. A brilliant idea. The end of his game. The final problem.

And it would be glorious.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Happy Easter! Enjoy your week, and I'll get the next chapter posted as soon as I finish it.

Cashew later!