A/N: Prompt 22 from trustingHim17: Breathe!
Veered off in a peculiar direction...
Breathe!
From the depths of his criminal mastermind lair,
Moriarty was seething, it just wasn't fair!
His grim notoriety couldn't compare
With Holmes, for his Boswell wrote stories to share.
No newspaper headline could ever command
The audience drawn to Holmes' tales in The Strand.
He sulked, as he read Watson's words ( Speckled Band) ,
In his criminal mastermind bedroom...and planned...
~0~
A neat London flat, and a knock at the door,
A letter, in handwriting oft seen before;
Moran read his orders, and ranted and swore,
This was not what a famed tiger hunter was for!
He checked it again, just in case he'd misread,
Perhaps he had missed a few words, been misled,
But no...from that criminal mastermind bed,
Demotion from sniper to author instead!
~0~
Whatever one thought of the Colonel he would,
Despite reservations, obey if he could,
Like any vile mastermind's henchperson should.
(And as all connoisseurs of this genre understood.)
His list...
An advance on a publishing deal,
A distinct lack of penmanship skills to conceal,
A bold nom de plume which was bound to appeal,
And a suitable spine-tingling tale to reveal.
~0~
So...he threatened his way to a contract that night,
And stole from a bookshop, one book, "How to Write".
And christened himself "The Elusive Striped Knight",
But none of the plots he was plotting seemed right...
It was hard to create a convincing depiction,
Till he stumbled across an inspired contradiction,
Which he chose to adopt, with fast growing conviction;
That the plain simple truth might sell better than fiction...
~0~
So...
Several months passed, then, a treat for the nation;
The date of "The Mastermind Tales" publication.
Moriarty was breathless with anticipation,
Impatient to sample the Colonel's narration.
He was ready for fortune, and fan mail, and fame,
For besotted young ladies to swoon at his name,
And the chance to beat Holmes in this literary game.
He rushed to his door when the daily post came...
~0~
An autographed leather bound copy, no less;
He leafed through the pages, quite sure of success,
Then threw down the book with a shriek of distress;
Moran had included his secret address!
And his plans, and a map, and, perhaps, worst of all,
A neat thumbnail sketch of a Swiss waterfall!
Every page contained details designed to appall;
The Colonel, alas, had indeed dropped the ball.
~0~
If Holmes got his hands on this too honest book
His criminal mastermind plans were unstuck!
One idiot henchman was all that it took...
Moriarty paced madly and cursed his bad luck.
He summoned Moran, to a swift rendezvous
And told him his days as an author were through
And this also applied to a long lifespan, too
Notwithstanding a book signing tour to undo...
~0~
Moran heard him rant, in a stunned state of shock.
His breathing rate rose, chest in steel vice-like lock,
Like a prisoner condemned in the Old Bailey's dock
Or a rogue with his head on an ex-writer's block.
Small stars filled his vision, he heard his boss shout.
The world started spinning, a weird roundabout.
A snatched paper bag; he breathed in, then breathed out
It was stress induced fast ventilation, no doubt.
~0~
Whilst the Colonel attempted to slow down his breathing,
Moriarty ceased yelling, but didn't stop seething.
He stared at the bag and the Colonel, bequeathing
Cold looks of contempt, his best sneers neatly wreathing
Reptilian features and pale high-domed head.
It wasn't quite true that he wished Moran dead,
He could cancel the book signing sessions instead,
And buy every last copy, before they were read.
~0~
Now, Moran, tiger hunter, renowned man of action,
Was surprised at his own somewhat panicked reaction
To Moriarty's significant dissatisfaction.
He tried to calm down, slow each breath just a fraction.
He was kicking himself that he'd not realised
That his boss had intended his exploits disguised,
So his criminal network was not compromised
He had rarely been so undermined, criticised.
~0~
Once centred, relaxed, more chilled out and quite calm,
(An old gift's soothing phrases had worked like a charm...)
And Moriarty stopped threatening to do him great harm
And his chest stopped constricting ( he applied tiger balm)
He strode out to the book shops to put a wrong right,
Disappointing the fans who'd been queuing all night;
And he bought every single, last copy in sight.
Whilst remaining unflustered, unfazed and polite.
~0~
Once peace was restored, Moran swore he'd never
Embark on another book centric endeavour.
His boss, after all was conniving and clever;
And Holmes; his good fortune could not last forever...
"The Mastermind's Tales" were destroyed...well...not all...
There's a book in a criminal mastermind's hall,
Lying open, the page isn't hard to recall;
It's the neat thumbnail sketch of a Swiss waterfall...
~0~
A/N 2: Moran's past gift was The Victorian Book of Calm, given to him by Holmes during a spell in prison as documented in Mistletoe and Mayhem...Ch 10: Present. Probably not a canon event...