"I will burn down the whole fucking world until you have nowhere to turn but my arms."
Jim Moriarty has always loved fairytales. In particular, grim, macabre ones that end in bloodshed. You've been abused by your step-family for years - in every me...
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"BELONGING IN ITS RAWEST FORM IS POSSESSION, A BONE-DEEP NEED TO BRAND AND CLAIM."
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Faking a death in a way that would convince somebody with a mind as brilliant as Sherlock Holmes' wouldn't be an easy feat.
However, Moriarty had let you know what you had to work with, but he insisted that you be the one in charge of actually making it appear he was dead. It was his way of showing his faith, by trusting you with this monumental task, the culmination of the game, the final move.
The game needed to end voluntarily - by forcing Sherlock to defeat himself, to fall, to fail to stay alive.
The final moves would be a series of actions that had already begun. Moriarty had convinced Sherlock that he had a code which would break into anywhere - the series of break-ins that he had conducted were all just advertising points for bigger organisations who were desperate to get their filthy little paws on it.
Next, Sherlock's reputation would fall. The great, beloved 'Reichenbach Hero' would henceforth be considered a con-artist, a man who tricked the world into believing he was of a superior intellect. He would be reduced to a fraud. In turn, so would Moriarty, really. He, too, would have to make it seem like everything had been a farce.
But first, the tale of Hansel and Gretel would come to pass.
You and Moriarty co-wrote this variation of the tale. In your version, Hansel and Gretel would be, for all intents and purposes, abandoned by their parents at boarding school. From there, the wicked witch would lure them out not with a house made of candy, but with the threat of violence.
From there, they would gorge themselves silly on sweets. But the witch was never planning on eating the children, not this time. No - the food would be poisoned, just enough to cause some serious damage, but not to kill them.
You didn't really want to kill children. You had been one so long ago, and though you had been robbed of your childhood, it would feel wrong to take their lives before they had the opportunity to grow up and compose a fairytale of their own.
In fact, you didn't even have an urge to kill. You weren't some crazed serial killer - you had looked for retribution and found it in the ashes of your childhood home. This wasn't some deep, otherworldly calling for you. The blood that you wanted had already been spilled.
You and Moriarty could understand each other on a certain level, and you didn't have much of a desire to leave. There was nowhere for you to go, and you were almost in his debt now that he had helped you evade Sherlock Holmes.
Today would be the last day of school for Max and Claudette Bruhl.
Their father was an important diplomat, an ambassador to the US, and he had raised two boarding school brats who would be swiftly swiped out from under him, stolen amidst the chaos of the last day of school.
