Miss Holmes, the Professor Is Not a Villain

12 – Meeting with Miss Holmes was the worst (12)

A lie, yes, a lie.

For Sherlock’s sake? It was a brazen lie. Of course, to Moriarty now, Sherlock was certainly special.

Yet that was all.

Unlike the young Sherlock, who was wrapped up in youthful emotions upon discovering her first love or someone she looked up to, Moriarty didn’t have such emotions.

Coldly considering it, Sherlock was nothing but a tool to him. He was that kind of man. He would remain such unless someone punished him, or passed judgment on him.

Everything was just for fun. Yes, it was for a bit of stimulation and fun to alleviate boredom.

In the process, he planned to help Sherlock sufficiently. How Sherlock felt did not matter to him, it did not reach him. If the girl hated him, if she moved forward with the intention to destroy him, it would give Moriarty another source of fun.

He was a mathematician. Although it was limited to his profession, being quite professional, he intended to act as a mathematician.

Every proposition is meaningless in itself. An unproven hypothesis is meaningless. Therefore, as a mathematician, Moriarty had to prove his hypothesis physically, directly.

Yes, it was a proof.

A simple proof to check whether he could derive pleasure from creation of a riddle, its destruction, and disillusionment.

“Perhaps, it seems I am no different than Professor Moriarty.”

He mocked.

He mocked knowing such a thought was incorrect.

He was different from Professor Moriarty, residing in the memories of his past life. Would the Professor from someone else’s story have been able to meet Holmes from childhood, establish a relationship, and mold her into a detective?

Unlikely. And thus, he was different. He would create an adversary who would bring him the greatest pleasure. And he would be able to conclude everything with the joy of dismantling her at the end.

He was captivated by some strong impulse, which is why he was delving into these unconventional thoughts and non-existent future plans, which he would normally avoid.

However, like a mathematical system without axioms is meaningless, he also needed to establish new axioms from now on. These were facts so obvious that they didn’t need to be proven. A foundation that will become the roots of a sturdy empire.

And upon these facts, he really needed to see if he could create everything from scratch.

“Perhaps it’s due to personal grudges.”

Suddenly, such a thought crossed his mind.

Then, Moriarty realised that he did not care about anything at all, wanting to live out his life alone, all while being quite arrogant and being prone to impulses.

Perhaps it wasn’t Sherlock who sowed all the seeds. Since the gaze of Holmes’ father, the pastor, definitely helped him reach such thoughts and conclusions.

His impromptu plan, which wouldn’t be discovered, was greatly assisted by the characteristic of Pastor Holmes.

A wife who provoked her husband by having teatime frequently with various men to elicit suspicion of infidelity and a husband who quarreled with such a wife.

Perhaps Holmes’ pastor was growing suspicious of Moriarty lately, unaware of his Othello-like syndrome.

It was unpleasant.

It was unpleasant for a man as insignificant and boring as a flutist to dare cast such suspicious eyes at him.

Therefore, this was self-defense. And therein lay the need for a touch of proof.

Moriarty justified himself thusly. Of course, he knew this way of thinking was typical of villains, as Sherlock would phrase it.

Half of which he agreed with and half of which he could not agree. Moriarty was sure that in the end, even Sherlock, his beloved student, would come to agree as well.

James Moriarty was smiling, which was unusual. It wasn’t sarcasm or a faint smile. Anyone familiar with Moriarty in this lifetime would have been surprised to see him smiling so beamingly.

Someone more sensitive might even frown at some grotesqueness perceivable in that twisted smile.

But he was alone in the room, and unfortunately, no one caught it.

He recontained his smile, rose from his seat, and went outside. It was teatime. Mrs. Holmes often found Moriarty during teatime and formally suggested having tea together.

Of course, there was certainly intention to garner excitement in such a rural routine, and Moriarty had been refusing citing his research as an excuse since he didn’t want to get caught up in annoying matters.

Moriarty could evidently understand the difference between reality and fantasy, with Mrs. Holmes who dreamt of a beautiful affair capable of starring in romantic novels. Ordinary Sherlock’s mother wasn’t that foolish.

However, she was still youthful thanks to being distantly descended from fairies, despite being older and having more conflicts with her husband. And there was the boring country environment.

Moriarty wasn’t the only one trying to find excitement in a mundane life. Truthfully, everyone did.

Mrs. Holmes was such a person who subtly dreamt of a risky deviation on the line. Moriarty thought for a moment if this could have been passed down to Sherlock who enjoyed mysteries and detectives.

Whether it was a correct or wrong thing to do, it was insignificant to Moriarty. It was insignificant from now onwards.

He was just using everything for his own ends.

“Ah, Mr. Moriarty, is your research going well? I was about to have tea, would you join me?”

“Well, it appears I have to today, Mrs. Holmes. Incidentally, I have something to discuss regarding Sherlock and Mycroft.”

Mrs. Holmes watched him for a moment, surprised at Moriarty’s acceptance, but he answered her with a smile amiable enough for anyone.

It was adequate enough to plant an illusion in one another. Then others wouldn’t criticize him. Perhaps he would someday rise to a position where nobody could blame him, but not yet.

But it didn’t pose a particularly big challenge. He could be certain of that at least. Fortunately, suitable chess pieces existed.

Sherlock and Mycroft were definitely tricky pieces to handle, but Moriarty offered prayers of gratitude to the providence he wouldn’t usually seek, as they were nothing more than a boy and a girl now.

If the Lord knew of this, He might have been angered by Moriarty’s unholy blasphemation. However, the only entity on this earth capable of judging him was not the Lord. The unfortunate being who could do so was young and not yet prepared.

Time went on smoothly.

Moriarty, feeling the heat of summer, discovered he could enter the Holmes siblings’ secret base, and observed Sherlock lounging in his brother’s hammock and murmuring.

If Mrs. Holmes saw this, she might have scolded Sherlock for his behavior. At the very least, the girl’s behavior was far from the distinguished conduct of a British lady.

Neither Sherlock nor Moriarty were, of course, entangled in the manners of such conventional British people.

“Mom nagged at me again.”

“Did you stain your clothes again?”

“While playing, our dress can get torn, isn’t it? Mom always becomes suffocating, she says no when I say we should just wear pants if she is worried, why does she have to live so irrationally?”

“I suppose your mother had some other intention in mind.”

Mrs. Holmes was conventional, ordinary woman. It truly was surprising that individuals such as Sherlock and Mycroft were raised under her, but that was it.

Moriarty knew too well already that Mrs. Holmes worried about the future of her tomboyish daughter. In the case of Mr. Holmes, the relatively young child garnered less attention, but even that was a source of dissatisfaction for her.

Above all, even Sherlock herself didn’t enjoy her mother’s nagging. Of course, it makes sense. No child enjoys a parent’s nagging. Especially those who consider themselves smart.

With a smile, Moriarty opened his mouth.

“Do you dislike listening to your mother’s nagging, Sherlock?”

“Who would like that? At times, I think of running away secretly and doing what I want! It happens in adventure novels pretty often as well.”

Sherlock was, clearly, still a child. Despite attempting to act like an adult, she still occasionally relied on fantasies.

Unfortunately, the girl was too young and inexperienced to the world. She didn’t know about the trash she often dreamt of encountering as a detective, and about the evil that people could bear.

Thus, Moriarty wished to give her a small piece of advice.

“What about using smoked herring?”

“Smoked herring?”

The clever Sherlock knew too well that the respected teacher wasn’t truly talking about smoked herring.

In fact, it was one of the techniques they learned in Moriarty’s classes.

They used smoked herring when training hunting dogs to numb their sense of smell. Hence, prisoners often used smoked herring to evade the tracking of hunting dogs when they escaped.

It was something that Sherlock had come across in the adventure novels she often read.

A bait, to distract people’s attention.

“If you are uncomfortable with your mother scolding you, what about using someone who can scold your mother? For instance, Pastor Holmes.”

“Hmm, but how?”

“It’s a method I occasionally used when I was young. Simply grumble about the incidents between you and your mother to your father, you can even do it during meals. You are a clever child, anyone can see that you are just cheerfully telling your father about what happened during the day, right?”

“Of course, because I am special!”

Clever. Provoked by those words, Sherlock puffed up and nodded. Moriarty’s smile deepened.

“Well, you can talk about anything. Today I learned something from Mr. Moriarty, I enjoyed cake while listening to a conversation between mom and Mr. Moriarty during tea time, these trivial…events.”

“But would that work?”

“You never know about human psychology, Sherlock. It can be really special. Just as your mother picks on your trivial behavior and makes a fuss, who knows whether your father might feel uncomfortable with your mother’s minor behavior and say something. If that happens, naturally, your mother wouldn’t be able to pick on your behavior.”

Upon Moriarty’s suggestion, Sherlock nodded her head.

The man before her eyes was, despite not being a family member, the most reliable adult that the girl could trust in this world.

Above all, he was extremely smart, beyond comparison to herself. He truly was the advisor she envisioned in her future.

That’s how the girl thought.