Moriarty's Little Puppet

Moriarty's Little Puppet

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WpMetadataReadOngoing18m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Sat, Jan 17, 2015
Sherlock looked around the room, walls battered with blood from who knows how many victims this maniac had strung up. "Sherlock, dear?" His rich voice echoed across the room, sending Sherlock shivers that bellowed across his body. "Have you figured it out yet?" He asked yet again. Sherlock stayed still. After all, what could he do? Any movement motioned him to be exactly where the criminal was able to kill him. "Oh god..." The man chuckled, "You haven't, have you? Sherlock Holmes, the smartest man alive, couldn't figure out a simple mystery?" A large clank of metal was heard as the door flew open. "It's raiiiiining..." The man began, advancing towards Sherlock in an agonizingly slow way, "It's poooouring..." The criminal mastermind continued to sing, "Sherrrrrrlock is boooooooring..." "He went to bed, someone shot his head..." "He couldn't get up" "In the mooooorning..." Bang.
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#36
smaug
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And now, sat in the flat looking at the gun in his hands, feeling it jeer at him, his fingers itch. To feel the release as the bullet tore into him. Would he feel the pain? Or would it be too quick? Hovering between life and death was Sherlock's favourite place, and yet he despised it. His fingers curl against the cold metal and he feels his grip tighten on the trigger. Any second now he would give in to temptation, and all that would be left was brain matter splattered up the walls. Basically Sherlock has an obsession with his own death/wants to die but not really. It's really not as dark as it sounds, honestly. There are references to Suicide, not just Reichenbach, so if that's a trigger maybe don't read this.

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