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stonepicnicking_okapiTitle: Train
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Length: 300
For: Yahtzee Roll #1
Prompt:
Summary: Moriarty waits for Holmes.
Professor James Moriarty watched the handsome train cross the valley below, chugging along its heavy tracks, puffing grey clouds of smoke from its stacks.
He lowered his binoculars and smiled. It wouldn’t be long. He had visited the area before, and, indeed, had made extensive study of maps in London. Not completely trusting cartographer’s lines, however, he’d verified the terrain for himself over the past forty-eight hours, hiking, trekking, traipsing under the guise of birdwatching.
Oh, he’d been watching all right, but mostly he’d been thinking.
And now he was satisfied. His plan was in motion, had been in motion for some time, but this final trap was set.
And now it was a matter of waiting. But he wouldn’t wait long.
But he could, if required, wait long, that is.
Moriarty was a patient man. Unlike Holmes, his opponent in this little match, Moriarty had no base impulses or cravings to satisfy. Such things made a man impulsive. It had always been so, and
Sherlock Holmes was impulsive, among other things.
Moriarty felt he knew Sherlock Holmes very well. Intelligent, resourceful, inclined to the occasional touches of pride. Easily bored. Easily vexed. Brittle.
The brittle broke, that Moriarty knew.
Holmes had fallen back on the aid of his companion, the doctor. That was a good sign, a sign that he was weakening. He couldn’t go it alone. He needed help.
The doctor did not concern Professor Moriarty. He was incidental to the plan. In fact, Holmes himself would probably shield his companion from the worst of it, and, thus, do his enemy’s work for him.
Moriarty sighed. So predictable. It had been a nice bit of sparring, but it couldn’t last.
Sherlock Holmes was on that train, and soon, very soon, he would alight, and the game would begin.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes (ACD)
Rating: Gen
Length: 300
For: Yahtzee Roll #1
Prompt:
Summary: Moriarty waits for Holmes.
Professor James Moriarty watched the handsome train cross the valley below, chugging along its heavy tracks, puffing grey clouds of smoke from its stacks.
He lowered his binoculars and smiled. It wouldn’t be long. He had visited the area before, and, indeed, had made extensive study of maps in London. Not completely trusting cartographer’s lines, however, he’d verified the terrain for himself over the past forty-eight hours, hiking, trekking, traipsing under the guise of birdwatching.
Oh, he’d been watching all right, but mostly he’d been thinking.
And now he was satisfied. His plan was in motion, had been in motion for some time, but this final trap was set.
And now it was a matter of waiting. But he wouldn’t wait long.
But he could, if required, wait long, that is.
Moriarty was a patient man. Unlike Holmes, his opponent in this little match, Moriarty had no base impulses or cravings to satisfy. Such things made a man impulsive. It had always been so, and
Sherlock Holmes was impulsive, among other things.
Moriarty felt he knew Sherlock Holmes very well. Intelligent, resourceful, inclined to the occasional touches of pride. Easily bored. Easily vexed. Brittle.
The brittle broke, that Moriarty knew.
Holmes had fallen back on the aid of his companion, the doctor. That was a good sign, a sign that he was weakening. He couldn’t go it alone. He needed help.
The doctor did not concern Professor Moriarty. He was incidental to the plan. In fact, Holmes himself would probably shield his companion from the worst of it, and, thus, do his enemy’s work for him.
Moriarty sighed. So predictable. It had been a nice bit of sparring, but it couldn’t last.
Sherlock Holmes was on that train, and soon, very soon, he would alight, and the game would begin.
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