It wasn't long after that Moriarty, still asleep, finally began to transform.
"What should we do with him?" Watson whispered. "We can't just let him leave."
"We can't have him arrested, even after he turns back," Holmes replied. "I don't have enough evidence yet. However, I think we may exact a little revenge without reprehensibility."
"What sort of revenge?"
"I see the early-morning rubbish collector and his cart have arrived," Holmes commented, looking out the window. "We are not terribly high up and the man has already accumulated a good portion of rubbish that would offer some cushioning."
At Watson's incredulous look, Holmes added temptingly, "Cats are said to land on their feet, after all."
Watson snickered quietly while he stood in the best position for viewing. Holmes grabbed the sleeping ginger cat by the scruff of the neck before it grew any larger. Moriarty awoke with a start but before he could retaliate the detective cheerfully tossed him out the window.
Moriarty flew downward, legs splayed, yowling all the way, into the rubbish cart. The rubbish collector turned in shock as a bedraggled, thin man pulled himself out of the cart. "Throw me out the window, Holmes?" he muttered. "So help me, I'll throw him off a cliff!"
The rubbish collector decided he really had to lay off the brandy.