AN: Prompt at end of chapter.
Plunge
It could not have been better! His plan had fallen into place. Every possibility had been accounted for. Every risk had been weighed, measured and factored in. Yes. This was perfect.
These were the thoughts running through Professor James Moriarty's mind even as Holmes tripped him and sent him plunging from the precipice to the churning waters below. Even the curses he shouted during his descent had been rehearsed so that there would be no mistake. Holmes must be convinced that the Napoleon of Crime had finally been defeated.
It was up to his men to make sure Holmes escaped with great difficulty. Moran was the man for that. He would see to it that every shot was a near miss. He would see to it that Holmes got back to England to report the death of Professor Moriarty. Only then would Sherlock Holmes, the so-called Great Detective, be assassinated in the most mundane manner possible. A bullet to the head in his own sitting room would be best. That would send the message that no one was safe.
It was perfect. Everything calculated down to the last detail.
He had known Holmes would overpower him. Their difference in age favored Holmes, after all. Then there was the man's athleticism – fencing, boxing and Bartitsu. Moriarty had spent his life as an academic, doing as little brute work as possible. He had never a chance against Holmes in a physical confrontation. And that was perfect. It showed the detective how desperate the professor had become. What Holmes had not known, what he could not guess, was the amount of swimming Moriarty had done in the last year. Beginning with visits to Southsea, he had trained himself to survive the most difficult waters. He had even foregone smoking for the most part in order to increase his lung capacity. He could hold his breath for nearly three minutes!
A last gulp of air as his body struck the water followed by the sudden shock of cold. His limbs convulsed, becoming less responsive almost at once. He had factored that in as well. Stripping off his waistcoat and shoes, the professor kicked for the surface. The churning water fought him, but he persisted. His body rolled and rolled and still he fought. How much time had elapsed? His lungs were beginning to burn already. This was all anticipated, but reality was not the same as calculations on a page.
Strive against it! Swim! The plunge could not have been that deep. The dynamics of a falling body striking water were the simplest equation. There had been no guesswork. Only mathematics. Where was the light? Why was his vision turning grey? Why would his limbs not obey him?
He fought on against the roaring demon that was the falls. To reach the surface and freedom was his only goal and he would achieve it! His revenge against those who had attempted to destroy his life's work would be his reward. Onward he swam, kicking with all the strength remaining to him.
There! Light! The surface! He could almost touch it. Cold fingers strove for the light. Stinging eyes blinked. A little farther and he would achieve all! Revenge, wealth, power, everything they had attempted to wrest from him. He would rebuild his empire. He would once more dominate the world of crime. His enemies would grovel before him! All he needed was to reach the surface and perchance to breathe.
Prompt from Hades Lord of the Dead: Perchance, to breathe