19th December prompt from Michael JG Meathook: Pub Crawl
Pub Crawl
In the depths of a frankly quite sinister lair,
( No rainbow would ever attempt to end there.)
The sinister chimes of a bell; loud…off key…
Announce that the morning has passed, tunelessly.
Moriarty slinks out of his sinister bed,
With bat-patterned pillows, well-stuffed, at the head.
He's proud of his clockwork cracked bell, used as warning,
To stop him from waking at sunrise, day dawning.
(He still really, truly, completely hates morning.)
~0~
Today he has hatched a dark mastermind plan;
To kill his most dangerous foe, if he can;
The sharpest, most devious rival of all.
(Why on earth does he picture a Swiss waterfall?)
He stretches, breathes deeply, and summons his aide;
Who acts as his butler, cook, sidekick and maid.
Moran appears swiftly, brings toast and black tea:
No milk and no sugar nor jam, naturally,
And the toast is quite burned, smoking sinisterly
~0~
A board is propped up by the wall; black as pitch,
And chalk; it's dark grey…hard to tell which is which.
He draws dotted lines, "This is how it begins;
Those dashes are streets, and those squares are the inns.
My contacts have told me that Holmes and his friend
Are out carol singing this evening, will wend
Their way through these hostelries, starting right here…
We'll join in, in disguise, wait until the coast's clear,
Then Holmes and his Boswell will both disappear…"
~0~
"Now, we'll both need disguises so no one will guess
That we're there to cause Holmes and Co. major distress."
With that, Moriarty produces a sack,
Full of brightly hued garments…all colours but black.
He orders Moran to find clothing to suit
A sailor…from blue and gold cap to black boot;
Then picks a checked coat, so he'll blend with the crowd,
As a well-to-do-man-about-town, tall and proud.
Moran's not convinced ( but daren't say that out loud.)
~0~
So… some grease paint and wigs, and a hired acting coach…
By mid afternoon they are set to approach
The Blackfriars Inn, settle in for a wait,
And sample the landlords best ale…Holmes was late.
They both sipped drinks slowly and tried to appear
As though full of high spirits and festive good cheer.
One pint nearly sunk, there's a faint caterwaul,
Getting louder; as Holmes and his merry band call;
Moriarty is not fond of carols at all.
~0~
The pair sit and watch them, a large chimney breast
Provides them with shadows; just as they like best.
They listen as Holmes and his party perform,
From their spot which is getting increasingly warm…
Another drink ordered, to cool them both down;
This sailor and well-to-do-man-about-town.
"Away in a Manger", then off they all go,
Crossing over the Thames; Blackfriar's Bridge, in the snow,
With the ice and the dark swirling waters below…
~0~
Yes, all it will take is an opportune push;
They will cross several bridges; no hurry, no rush.
If they wait till it's dark, for the evening to fall,
Then no one will see what they're up to at all.
(This is one of their most diabolical schemes.)
So…on to The George, and its low wooden beams,
The pair sip in silence, their third pints of ale,
And listen to words like "goodwill" and "wassail",
Quite sure that their black-hearted scheme will prevail.
~0~
They cross London Bridge, as the light starts to fade;
Remain incognito, in shadow and shade,
Quite certain that Holmes hasn't spotted them there;
Their costumes ensure they'd fit in anywhere.
Fleet Street is next on the list…"The Old Bell"
They're offered mince pies with their beer…all is well…
More people have joined in the carolling throng;
Some clear tenor voices add depth to each song.
Moran thinks they're Yarders, but hopes that he's wrong…
~0~
The songsters are singing of Bethlehem town…
Moriarty hears tapping below him, looks down;
His sidekick's foot's moving in time to the beat…
He sighs and deliberately stamps on his feet.
Moran, hurt and startled, part-stifles a cry;
The tune was quite catchy and hard to deny.
For criminal mastermind's henchmen, life's tough;
No chance to relax , enjoy music and stuff.
There might come a time when enough is enough…
~0~
A short walk away is Ye Olde Cheshire Cheese,
It's darker and colder, and breath starts to freeze.
Hot toddies with plenty of rum are required;
With honey and cinnamon sticks, if desired.
Moriarty, by now, quite uncomfortably chilled,
Drinks quickly, demands that his glass be refilled.
The Holly and the Ivy is cheerfully playing,
He rests, doesn't notice his left hand start swaying
In time to the rhythm; hard edges are fraying…
~0~
The Seven Stars tavern is next on their route;
It should have been time for their plan to bear fruit,
But, first some more carols and ale to get through.
Moran, and the criminal mastermind, too,
Observe that the carollers faces are blurred;
The floor of the inn isn't steady…absurd!
And the fireplace and furniture's starting to spin,
And what they had viewed as a terrible din;
The carols and songs…they are now joining in.
~0~
In fact, much to Holmes and to Watson's delight,
The pair, who had followed the singers all night.
And whose evil intent had been sussed from the start,
Harmonise, take the most difficult part,
(That's the "Gloria" bit herald angels all sing.)
They hit all the high and long notes…everything.
The pair, now suffused with a warm festive glow.
Have forgotten the plans to dispose of their foe
On a bridge, with the swirling cold waters below…
~0~
Ye Old Mitre, the last but not least on their list,
Has a special mulled wine, much too hard to resist.
Moriarty and sidekick have now joined the team,
Forgetting their dire and nefarious scheme
And ending the day in a warm festive haze…
A welcome respite from dire criminal ways.
Then, once it seems clear they can carol no more,
They're dropped at their criminal mastermind door,
For, after all, what are worst enemies for?
~0~
In the depths of this frankly quite sinister lair;
Next morning, there's no sign of life anywhere.
The cracked bell is muffled, a loudly checked coat
Is wrapped all around it, like scarf around throat.
Moran isn't stirring, he's still in his bed,
With drummers and stonemasons loud in his head.
And as for his boss, and the plan he had set;
He's nursing the mother of hangovers, yet
His thoughts aren't entirely of shame and regret;
He hit all those difficult notes, don't forget…
~0~