A/N: I cheated with boa constrictor, yes. Another crack-fic about Moriarty. Dedicated to all who studied statistics…
Sebastian peered at the diagrams with cluelessness I haven't seen since my teaching days. I longed for a ruler.
- What's this?
- Graphs.
- What for?
- To model scientifically and perhaps influence what is written or typed.
He sighed and glared at my laptop.
- Is it possible? They aren't making any sense.
- If Man conquered Chaos, what is there to stop us?
He picked up a sketch I drew to summary my own failure as a mastermind of crime. Gamma-distribution. A steep incline of hard work; an inevitable, seemingly instantaneous flattish pique of professionalism and reaping one's rewards, and then - the bitter exponential drop. There was still some potential to skew the distribution, though. I will look into Alternative Universes.
There were others, too.
A Gaussian - a bell-shaped portrait of criminal population.
Continuous uniform - my mistake; I underestimated the good Doctor's crawling progress. Definitely skewed. I made a note.
Poisson ( = 1) - Scotland Yard at his most average. I once sent them a formula I'd thought to best account for every last bobby in our despairing city; later I learned they couldn't decipher the secret code and resorted to the services of Mr. Holmes, who allayed their fears but retained the letter.
- Is this… an elephant?
- In a boa constrictor.