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?

Moriarkin: Third Time Lucky

Full of accomplished glee at his success of carving a passable face in the last pumpkin, Sherlock decided to get started on the face of 'faux confusion'.

He worked carefully, determined to get this one perfect. When he was finished, he stepped back. No. Once again, it had gone horribly wrong. It looked nothing like what he had pictured, turned out nothing like he had planned. How had he regressed from the last one to this one?

A wave of anger crashed through him. He threw the pumpkin on the floor, jumping on it and crushing it into pieces.

The anger passed just as quickly as it had come and he stared at the mess on the floor.

"I shall learn from you." he told the mush of pumpkin, "next time, it will turn out brilliantly." he vowed.

He found out the dust-pan and brush from under the sink and swept what he could of the ruined pumpkin from the floor. It was then added to the pile with a slop, the seeds soon following.

Break.

True to his word, the next pumpkin was by far his best. This time he had decided to go with the childish grin that he remembered from when Moriarty had come back in with the snipers. The words 'I'm sooo changeable' flashed across the image.

"I wonder how much you'll change after I smash you with a sledgehammer? I'm sure John has one, or at least a hammer, somewhere." Sherlock wondered as he contemplated the new Moriarkin.

Decided, he added 'Hammer (sledge?)' next to 'Childish grin' on his list, crossing it out as he did so.

Entering his mind palace, he perused the list to see which face he should do next. He scanned the crossed off ones first before looking through what he had left over.

Shocked face - Thrown at wall
Lopsided innocence - Punched
Faux confusion - Crushed
Childish grin - Hammer(sledge?)

Rage - ? This face, he would do last of all. He promptly moved it to the end.
Calm, assured amusement - ?
Grimace face - ?
Considering face - ?
Smug confidence - ?
Serious face - ?

He browsed through the rest of them and established an order. Resolved, he quickly shuffled them around until they were all in the correct place. Afterwards, his new list read:

Smug confidence - ?
Grimace face - ?
Serious face - ?
Considering face - ?
Calm, assured amusement - ?
Rage - ?

He would choose a way of destruction for each after he had made them, that way he had more time to think of the best way to maim them.

He quickly and efficiently cut off the tops and scooped out all of the insides, that, he had got very good at. As he only had six pumpkins left, he didn't have any to waste, so he made sure he carved them all very carefully this time, he couldn't afford to mess any of them up. They had to be perfect.

It took him a few hours, but when he was done he was slightly disappointed, in himself and his efforts. They were no way near good enough, but it seems that they were the best he could conjure.

As he looked at them, he decided that the fact that they were badly carved - by his standards, would make it all the more pleasurable to destroy them.

He lined them all up around the table, turning them all so that they faced inwards. "Don't mind me, chat amongst yourselves." he told them with a smirk before he went off on a mad hunt around the flat to find appropriate tools.

He brought them all back and piled them on the table inside the circle of pumpkins. The hammer he picked up and placed in front of the pumpkin with the 'childish grin'.

He sorted through the rest of the pile, discarding some things here and there that he thought would not be up to the task. When he came to the harpoon, it was with great reluctance that he placed it to one side, too cumbersome, unfortunately.

When he had sorted through them all, he set each object by a pumpkin. When he was done, he looked at the face that was at the end of his list. Rage. He wanted to do something special with it, but he couldn't yet think of what.

Leaving it as a blank, he filled in the rest of the list.

Shocked face - Thrown at wall
Lopsided innocence - Punched
Faux confusion - Crushed
Childish grin - Hammer(sledge?)
Smug confidence - Blowtorch
Grimace face - Microwave
Serious face - Knife
Considering face - Bat
Calm, assured amusement - Acid
Rage - ?

Now all the pumpkins were made and crossed off, he had the entertainment of destruction.

He pulled the first pumpkin in front of him, picking up the hammer; he tested its weight in his hand. After a few practice swings, he was satisfied and started his wild blows. He crushed the pumpkin enthusiastically, each hit getting harder and harder until there was nothing left but a smudge.

Shaking out the tension from his shoulders, he moved onto the next one. Grabbing his goggles, he covered his eyes and let loose. He watched gleefully as the pumpkin shrivelled into a melted, burnt blob before his eyes.

Next he shoved the pumpkin in microwave, turned it up to full heat and let it blast. He watched eagerly through the window, but soon became bored. "How dull," he told the Moriarkin, taking it out and throwing it onto the pile.

After that failure, he wielded the knife dangerously but fearlessly, chopping away vigorously until he was satisfied. Breathing deeply, he smiled at his handy work.

Next, he used the bat like he had the knife and the hammer, beating the pumpkin to a pulp. He found it all strangely therapeutic.

Finally, he came to the acid. Getting out a metal tray, he placed the pumpkin in it and poured on the acid. It was very invigorating to watch the acid eat away at the flesh and Sherlock was able to wait calmly and patiently until it was all gone.

Clearing up all the remains of the other Moriarkins, he finally turned his attention to the last one remaining.

Sherlock placed it on John's chair as he stared at it contemplatively. As he was trying to decide how to destroy it, John wandered into the kitchen. His face was buried in the newspaper as he shuffled his way to the table and sat in his chair, right on top of the pumpkin. He looked up from the paper for a shocked second before the pumpkin gave way under his weight and he hit the chair with a squelchy thump.

They stared at each other in stunned silence. Finally, Sherlock gave a small chuckle. "Well, that solves that problem."

Sherlock waved John out of the way impatiently. He gathered up the remains of the pumpkin and threw it down with the others on the ever growing pile.

"Sherlock, put them in the bin." John admonished with a frown.

"No. You do it if you're so bothered."

"I've already said that I won't clean up after you, Sherlock."

"Then stop complaining." Sherlock replied with a pointed look. John had long ago learnt it meant 'don't be an idiot'. John sighed and shook his head.

"Fine, I give up, you win." He carefully folded up the paper and laid it on the table. He stood for a second, watching as Sherlock picked up the bowl that contained all of seeds from the last few pumpkins. His eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything as Sherlock chucked them on the pile. Sherlock looked at him over his shoulder as he dumped the bowl in the sink. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. When he opened his eyes, he saw Sherlock making his way down the corridor to his room. He watched him for a moment before turning and marching out.

Break.

The puddle of juice seeped into the carpet. It was nearly time. Soon, the Moriarkins would have to wait no longer.