Disclaimer: I own nothing, none of this is true.
Summary: Sherlock was bored. Halloween had passed and gone, but what happens to all the left over pumpkins?
Author's Note:I don't even know. Sherlock's views on pumpkins are fiction, not opinion.
Moriarkin: The Second Attempt
He heard the door slam behind him and just stood, staring blankly into his room. What exactly had he done wrong for it to turn out so badly? His eyes fell on his laptop and he made a grab for it. It seemed some research was in order.
He vaguely heard John yell something at him as he waited for his laptop to load, but marked it as unimportant and promptly deleted it from his hard drive. Soon after, he heard John's door slam shut above him.
After the laptop had finished loading, he clicked onto Google and searched for pumpkin carving techniques. He found a lot of useless information that went way beyond what he was trying to do. Most of it seemed over obsessive to him, who really needs to cut such a complicated shape out of a pumpkin? It'll only rot after a few days anyway, so it's completely pointless to go over the top and to waste all that time.
In the midst of all the rubbish, he managed to find some helpful information that would make it easier for him. If he drew the face on first, he has a guide line to cut around, and using smaller knives, and even something like a screwdriver for the fiddly bits, will help immensely.
Focused and confident once again, he felt he was more prepared to make a second attempt.
Knowing that John could stay sulking in his room for hours, he made his way back to the kitchen.
Sitting his new pumpkin where the old one had once been, he emptied the bowl of insides onto the pile of pumpkin on the floor. He rummaged around for some more knives, grabbed a pen and stole the screwdriver John kept on the desk in the living room. Now he was ready.
Just as he was about to start, he paused as a thought came to him. After the first disastrous attempt, he didn't really want to carve Moriarty's 'shocked face' onto the pumpkin anymore, so what should he do instead? He thought for a moment before he decided on the perfect face. This face was what Sherlock refers to in his 'Moriarty face expression index' as the 'Face of Lopsided Innocence'. It was perfect. Simple, but still very obviously recognisable as Moriarty. With that in mind, he got to work. This was going to be the very best Moriarkin ever.
Break.
When he'd finished, he stood back to survey his work. It could be a lot better, but was a big improvement to the 'it' that was the last one. Now he was finished, he stared at it contemplatively, what to do with it now?
As he stared, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. It looked like the pumpkin was staring back at him, challenging him to a staring contest that he refused to lose. Sherlock and Moriarkin stared at each other for what could have been hours before John interrupted them. Sherlock nodded at the pumpkin in agreement that they would continue the contest later.
"Still haven't cleaned up the mess, I see." John was still grumpy, even after having time to cool down. Sherlock isn't sure why he's so cross; it's only a bit of mess, not anything drastic.
"Is that? Did you- Sherlock! We have a bin you know, right behind you. It would've been much easier for you to chuck the pips in the bin then to walk over here to add them to the pile youare cleaning up!"
Sherlock sighed. "Oh, John, why do you insist on boring me so? You know I do not clean, that's for you and Mrs Hudson to do."
"Me and Mrs Hud- No. No it isn't 'our job'. 1)Mrs Hudson is our landlady, not our housekeeper, as she reminds you daily, 2)I shouldn't have to clean up after you like I'm your bloody mother, and 3)We both live here, you should do your share of the chores too, instead of just expecting me to do it all.
"You sit at home doing nothing but making mess for days on end, while I go out to work and then have to come home and pick up after you, well, I'm not doing it anymore, you're a grown man, you can clean up after yourself."
"You are swearing a lot today, John." Sherlock replied calmly.
"Swearing? After all I just said, that is the only thing you pick up on? You are beyond..."
"Beyond?" Sherlock raised an inquisitive brow.
"Yes, beyond. Beyond explanation, beyond my patience, beyond." he replied. He looked at the pumpkin, turning it to face him. "What's with the pumpkins anyway? And what kind of face is that supposed to be?"
"I saw them and decided they would amuse me until my next case." Sherlock told him. He walked back to his room, intent on getting another pumpkin so he could try another face in the index. "I call that one the Face of Lopsided Innocence." he shouted as an afterthought.
"The face of lopsided what?" John asked with his adorable confused look. It was much better than the 'faux confused' look that Moriarty had. Speaking of, maybe he should carve that one next.
"Brilliant, thank you John."
"Thank you? What?"
"For showing me the next face I should cut into this pumpkin." he answered with his, 'stop being and idiot, John' face. John knew that face well, but he didn't know what other faces Sherlock was talking about.
"I showed you a face to cut? When?"
"You're showing me now, the face of 'faux confusion'" Sherlock replied, very patiently, he thought.
"'Faux confusion'? This confusion isn't fake, it is very very real." John told him, even more confused.
"Yes, I know yourconfusion is real, but Moriarty's wasn't, which is why it is labelled as fake in my index." Sherlock wore his 'I expect understanding' look as he waited for John's response.
"Right, because that explains everything..." It seemed his expectation was misplaced. "You have an index for Moriarty?"
"For his expressions, yes."
"Ok... Why?"
"Because I have to categorise these things John, how else would I be able to find anything in my mind palace if there was no order? Now please, I am busy, your confusion is quickly turning annoying and distracting, go be confused elsewhere."
"Alright, fine, but please don't make any more mess and clean up the pumpkin before I get back." With that, he grabbed his coat from where he had left it and headed back out again.
Sherlock waited in silence until he heard the door shut, shaking his head, he turned his attention back to the pumpkins. "That is as likely to happen as Lestrade is to call," he mutters to Moriarkin, "honestly, John and his delusions. Now where was I? Ah yes, 'faux confusion' or the continuation of the staring contest. Oh, the choices..."
He paused, once again, his eyes began to narrow. "It seems the staring contest is at the top of the list at the moment, well then, it seems the game, Moriarkin, is on."
Break.
The staring contest lasted for hours, but Sherlock finally won when he punched Moriarkin in the face, destroying his eyes and therefore becoming the winner. This Moriarkin was also added to the pile by the wall. Together, the Moriarkin's waited.