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Moriarty - Blog Posts
OMFG! I AM STILL SHAKING! I JUST CAN'T. I NEED MY SHOCK BLANKET!
DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME?DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME? DID YOU MISS ME?
The Final Problem - 1
Summary:
Moriarty, damaged but not dead due to a self-inflicted bullet wound, kidnaps Sherlock and his three friends and threatens to kill them unless they can help him find the meaning of life.
Chapter 1 - Not Awake
Sherlock Holmes awoke one morning to find that he was not yet awake.
He was sitting in his flat at 221B Baker Street. The fireplace was lit. The noises of cars drifted in through the window. A gentle light was shining in through though the curtains. And something was horribly wrong.
Being disoriented was not a new occurrence for Sherlock Holmes, not with his reawakened interest in drugs, but Sherlock felt none of the hallmarks of waking after a high. Nothing except the hopefully temporary loss of memory of how he had got here.
He rose to his feet and placed a hand on the mantle as he tried to zero in on what exactly it was that was wrong. Everything appeared to be in its proper place: His framed bat. His skull. His letters. The knife was gone from the mantle, but he could see it in the wall, pierced through the Cleudo board. He remembered doing that in a fit of pique after John had refused to play with him simply because he insisted that the victim must have killed himself. All in all it looked like a perfectly normal day, except....
John had removed the board from the wall at Mrs Hudson's request, years ago, and at another time, through no fault of his own, it had been thrown into the fire. John had fished it out, but the board had been damaged beyond repair, and Mrs Hudson had thrown it away. But if that was so, how was it on the wall now?
Sherlock had heard of drug reactions where a person was thrown violently into a memory of the past. He discounted this quickly enough. John's mug was not in the kitchen rack, and his coat was not on the hook. His absence, along with the presence of the purple scarf that Molly had knit him after his return, were enough to show Sherlock that this was not a memory. This was home, but not home. Real, but not real. Perfectly familiar, but alien as another planet.
It wasn't until Sherlock knelt down and stared into the fire, that he understood that he was in a fantasy not of his own devising, for although the fire was burning brightly, the wood was not being consumed. Perhaps the laws of time could be bent so that one wall of the flat existed at a different time from the other wall, but Sherlock was not so foolish as to believe that the laws of entropy could be changed. Wood that burned must be consumed. If it was not consumed then the laws of physics did not apply.
Despite the fact that everything felt real to him, he realized that he was in a dream or a fantasy. It was obvious that the fantasy world was not of his own devising, because there was no John.
Sherlock walked into the hall and looked down over the railing. Despite the fact that his flat was on the first floor, the stairwell seemed to go on forever. He returned to the fireplace and frowned down at the fire before saying to the air. "Alright, I know that you are here. Come out, come out whoever you are."
He looked toward the sound of footsteps.
His eyes widened, but he shouldn't have been surprised, not really. Who else would think to trap him in an artificial world? Who else but James Moriarty?
He was dressed in a black floor length robe and a priest's collar. A picture of austerity somewhat undone by the sight of his Gucci shoes.
"Jim Moriarty. Hi!" he said as he strolled slowly into the room, hands clasped behind his back. He cast a lazy glance around before boring into Sherlock with the black malevolence of his eyes.
Sherlock gestured toward a seat. "Please."
"I'd rather stand," Moriarty said.
"No matter." Sherlock glanced at his own chair before deciding to sit in John's. He crossed his legs and interlaced his fingers setting them atop his knee. "I'm sorry that I have no tea to offer you this time, but it wouldn't be real tea anyway, would it? Where are we by the way?"
"As you can see, we are in your flat."
"No we're not."
"You looked down the stairwell. You tell me where we are."
"We appear to be in my mind palace, or a part of it at least. But I'm not doing this, so I must be dreaming."
"You are, and you aren't."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that this is real, in as much as you and I are really talking."
"But not real in any physical sense. How exactly is that possible? I saw you die."
"John Watson saw you die, and yet, here you are. Do you think that you could accomplish something that I could not? Oh Sherlock, don't be so naive. Death isn't enough to stop men like us from doing what we really want."
"And what do you want to do?"
"I'm doing it."
"Doing what? Talking to me in a dream?"
"Not so much a dream as a simulation."
"A simulation... Oh, of course. This world is artificial. A construct of my mind and yours combined. The traumatic limb therapy experiment!"
"Good, Good."
"A military funded experiment designed to reduce the shock of catastrophic limb loss injuries by allowing the patient to view themselves as still having their limbs, but it didn't work."
"They liked the world too much. Hated that when they left it, they still had no working limbs. The project was a failure. But the technology was a success, so I appropriated it."
"You tapped into their system. Made a simulated image of yourself in the computer which you flashed all over the country. A simulated image of a simulated body. That's why it looked so strange, but how is it that you look so much more real now?"
"That's because you are in the machine with me. The device allows us to create worlds from our memories and to interact with others in our created world. Most people can't tell this from the real world. Only people like you and I, who have trained our minds to a razor point, only we can consciously shape the world to our will."
"But if, as you say, this is just a simulated image, how do I know if you are the real Moriarty or not?"
"Oh, Sherlock," he said in a sing-song voice, "You know that, like Johann Sebastian Bach, I could never leave a song unfinished. Our melody is incomplete. The song ended, but you kept on playing past the end of the piece. That was VERY NAUGHTY of you."
"It's been nearly three years. Why haven't you shown yourself before now?"
"Well, a shot to the head is not without some side effects. I may not be quite as ... attractive as I once was, but I assure you, the brain is as agile as ever, and that's what matters in the end. Isn't that what you used to say, Sherlock? 'All the rest is transport.' "
"Alright. I'll assume that you're Moriarty. What do you want?"
"I already told you! I want the answer to the final question. You found the answer without telling me."
"What didn't I tell you?"
"You survived, Sherlock. You survived! How can you stand it? Living day in and day out. Dealing with ordinary people and their stupidity. We both cheated death, but somehow you've found the answer that has alluded me. How can you go on living in a world full of such pointless ignorance?"
"But... you obviously found a way not to die."
"There's a difference between existence and survival. I'm not dead, but I haven't found a way to survive. "
"Are you asking me? 'What is the meaning of life?' "
"In so many words, Yes!"
"That's not a scientific question. You should ask a priest."
"Oh, I did, I did! I talked to Father George at great length. It's in his honor that I am wearing these robes today. He tried to sell me some fairy story about God and Devils. He made a good case, but in the end, I rejected his answer as too simplistic. I know that you will come up with something better."
"Philosophy is not my area. If you were to talk to him again, perhaps...."
Moriarty stretched his neck one way and then the other, and his face went completely, horrifyingly blank. "Unfortunately, he's unavailable. You see, I sent him ahead to talk to his God. I asked him to put in a good word, but I'm not sure that he did."
"You're mad!"
"You already knew that."
"I can't help you find the answer to your question."
"It that your final answer? Because if so, your friends will die, but I'll make sure that they suffer first."
"My friends? Where are you keeping them?"
"They're here, with us in the simulation, all of them... except Molly Hooper. She was able to help you escape last time, so she wasn't invited to this little dream of ours."
"I don't understand why you're asking me this? There are billions of people in the world. There must be someone more suited to give you spiritual guidance than me."
"No. I tried that route. Who cares what stupid thoughts console an amoeba, because that's what ordinary people are compared to you and me, amoebas. It's like sitting alone in your room and playing with dolls. But I need to know, Is there anything at all worth living for?"
"Men have been asking that question for millennia."
"You, however, have considerably less time to figure it out."
"How long?"
"Eight hours."
"Eight hours?"
"Yes, or you all will die."
"But... I still don't understand. Why ask me?"
"Because, you're alive! And you told me yourself that you ARE me. I know that you've got the answer inside you somewhere, so off you pop!" Moriarty walked toward the open door. He turned back as he reached the hallway and said, "Find our answer, and don't fail me! Your friends escaped harm before, but there will be no mistakes this time. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes."
Moriarty smiled then, a smile that could freeze a man solid, then he left down the hall. Sherlock rose to his feet, and rushed after him, but he had vanished.
TBC
Favorite good old-fashioned villain and beloved high functioning sociopath.
I want everyone here to know that Boimler referenced Moriarty in the Lower Decks mobile game🧍
I missed my chance to take a screenshot though because I tried to hold the screen since I forgot that I just don't have to touch the screen at all for this part of the dialogue to stay, so the dialogue went on and I didn't take a screenshot now😔
really love fem! Moriarty
and really need moran xd
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ok i have a rant. WHY are they so similar????
similar eyebrows, ears, and mouths.
i mean look.
similar facial expressions. the performance sort of way they both move. both like to sing.
they've both tried to kill their enemies (though lou's reasons are definitely more valid than moriarty's).
both have henchmen kinda.
moriarty's workers (sort of) are reggie and ronnie.
lou's workers are tuesday, lydia and kitty.
they both get soaked at the end of the movie? moriarty falls into the ocean, lou gets thrown in the washing machine.
what is happening.
i have a weird affection for villains in kids movies that don't get enough screen time. i don't wanna talk about it
alrighty we're starting a night of no sleep off with stuff i like about sherlock gnomessssss!!!!! *sigh*
we're starting off this post with moriarty. i feel like he has a pretty deep character for how bad the movie is. like.. on one hand, he's evil. he wants to crush all the gnomes, get rid of sherlock, yadda yadda.
on the other hand, he doesn't seem rude to everyone. especially ronnie and reggie- i mean sure he bosses them around, but the trio does act like friends in some scenes. in the screenshare scene, i believe ronnie helps him do it, the three peering down at the screen. he's not cruel to either of the two, which i feel like you could expect him to be cruel if he had "henchmen" given his overall moral code.
so like.. the pie has two sides. i guess. I'M NOT TRYING TO EXCUSE HIS ACTIONS TRUST. but like.. idk. i think that i'd like to see a spinoff of what moriarty, ronnie, and reggie were doing in the time that sherlock and the gang were looking for clues.
and he's clearly not the cruel, dark moody type of evil. that doesn't really need to be clerified, obviously. he's meant to be a kind of giggly-insane type of villian. but like.. IFFFF he had a moral code, where do you think that line would be? he clearly doesn't have much problem smashing gnomes, but then again, he's never shown interacting with ANY of them besides sherlock, watson, and gnomeo. (does he talk to juliet?? i don't think he does but idk.)
another thing. imagine how great it would've been if moriarty crashed the spring festival thing in the garden at the end. just a thought.
haha another night of no sleep coming right up
decided to redo my human design of moriarty!! still needs some work, he looks pretty young in this version so i think i need to try and make him look like more of an adult. decided that a tooth gap would be fitting (and kind of cute), but his hair is my favorite. any suggestions?
this is an interesting idea. gnomes are usually together, gargoyles come in pairs, even the dolls are together in the dollhouse. i think he was sort of made to be evil in the first place, so he never started off good. however i do wonder how he'd react to a little affection. just a thought.
I wonder if the reason Moriarty is so desperate and needy when it comes to attention is because he's lonely by design. Most people around him has company. The gnomes have their own communities in gardens, the toys have each other, even the gargoyles are housed with other gargoyles. But he sits alone on a van. He doesn't get the privilege of resting in a pretty lawn, or on a building with a great view. He just sits by himself on top of a van with nothing but his phone.
I don't think his isolation is the reason he's a killer. Sherlock himself said that "some are just manufactured evil". Moriarty was never going to be a good person, even if he was just another garden decoration. But the loneliness probably didn't help, and just ended up being a contribution to his attention seeking. There's a reason he's so obsessed with Sherlock; the guy gives him a TON of attention and never stops thinking about him, even if that comes from hate rather than care. Attention is attention, it doesn't matter where it comes from. Sherlock himself even calls Moriarty out on it, saying "you're very needy for a villain".
I'm not trying to invent a traumatic backstory that will excuse people justifying him, I love this little gay pie but he is NOT a good guy and I don't think he should be treated as such ascskfhjkl
i love this diva. tried a new style for it idk
doodle because this fandom dead as hell
i made these
probably gonna make more characters, watson next then maybe irene, the gargoyles, or (UGHHHHH) gnomeo and juliet
LMAO moriarty is at fangirl level obsession
How did forget about this!
On the tree in front of the Natural History Museum, Sherlock listens to Offenbach's 'Barcarolle' (from 'The Tales of Hoffmann') in his head. Important note that this piece is mentioned in the Canon in The Adventure of the Mazarin Stone!
Extra fun note here that Moriarty then sings it to Sherlock on Tower Bridge! Of course, I have many questions, but it's certainly a neat touch.
Draw Moriarty and Sherlock kissing as lego figures. yeah 😐
your wish is my command
uhhhh i got sidetracked
STILL TAKING SHERLOCK GNOMES REQUESTS
more art!!! i love these guys so much i can't even explain it
yes
made this because i was sad and needed warm fansrt so i made it myself 😋
(note, this isn't mori manipulating watson, he's just really bored and jumped at the chance to shit talk sherlock)
little drawing i did. NOT A SHIP.
heres an art server for sherlock gnomes (YOU CAN SRAW GNOMEO AND JULIET, TOO, OR EVEN JUSR SHERLOCK HOLMES)
Draw moriarty stuck in a hole in the wall, not weird but like a fat cat stuck in a hole
look at these divas (i spent two hours making a cardboard cutout of him)
some chibi stuff idk
