Crackfic! With Zombies! And Jam!
Title: Zombie Watson Will Steal Your Jam and Eat Your Brains
Author: shes_a_geek , however reluctantly
Pairing: Moriarty/Moran, as always
Summary: Moriarty has a plan. A very secret evil revenge plot for that whole Reichenbach business. You'd best guard your supply of jam, Mr. Holmes.
Fandom: Sherlock Holmes, with additional inspiration from "The Hand-Delivered Letter" (in this anthology) and " The Case of the Two Watsons."
Warnings: Reading feminist musicology apparently makes shes_a_geek babble on about zombies. I apologize.
Mr. Holmes--
In case you couldn't tell by the handwriting, I am alive. This may come as something of a shock. Poor Sebastian nearly lost his mind when I showed up to release him from prison. Of course, that could have been because I had replaced his guard with one of my rotting undead servants, but I digress...Speaking of Moran, by the way, I do apologize for his attempt upon your life. That was most clumsy of him, to be so utterly fooled by a wax bust. If it were me, I would be watching all of your little hideouts in London more carefully. Certainly you would have to leave sometime, if only to eat dinner and follow Watson around.
However, I am not writing this missive to quibble about past events. I WANT REVENGE! (Note: I am currently laughing in a creepy and somewhat insane manner. You may wish to picture this for the next few seconds of reading.) You threw me off of a waterfall. That hurt a great deal, both physically and emotionally. HOW DID YOU KNOW I NEVER LEARNED HOW TO SWIM? IF MY OBNOXIOUS BROTHER TOLD YOU....Ahem.
You then proceeded to stalk dear old Seb around Europe for three years! This was more disturbing. If anyone is going to follow Moran day and night without ceasing for years at a time, it should be me! Lesser men would be jealous, but I merely seek satisfaction for these slights.
In the early part of this letter, you probably noticed the mention of the undead. If you are anything like Moran was, you may be wondering, "Zombies? When did Moriarty get zombies? And why?" The answer would be a few months ago. I was bored, and raising the dead to do my bidding seemed somewhat easier than trying to rebuild my organization.
If it comes down to a reason, I blame you. People just aren't as scared of amoral, depraved mathematicians after you proved that we can be easily thrown off of waterfalls. The undead, however, do not care about that.
You are also most likely wondering, as Moran did, how I have managed to prevent my creations from eating me. After all, as the most intelligent man in London, surely the zombies would want my brain. And I certainly couldn't have that, could I?
So...I have trained my zombies to eat jam. I suppose they could also eat marmalade, but jam would be preferred. One day, my jam-eating zombies of doom and I will rule the world! Oh, and Sebastian can come along for the ride, as well. I'll need something to focus my attention on once you are dead, and I suppose being waited on hand and foot by my dashing moustachioed boyfriend might be enjoyable. (Note: I have now ceased laughing and begun leaning sleepily against the colonel. He is reading this over my shoulder, and wants me to add that the scene is incredibly manly, and not the least bit 'poofy' at all.)
In any case, said jam-eating legions of the undead have already begun their takeover of London. Which begs the question: have you seen Dr. Watson lately? He certainly seems to have become very fond of jam. Do have fun trying to stop him from eating all of your jam and destroying you, leaving behind only a few empty jars and a tattered shell.
Regards,
Prof. James Moriarty
PS. Please do not attempt to reply to this letter. Moran and I are rather busy at present, and I have not yet trained the zombies to answer mail.