"John writes a blog." He says it almost primly, clearly unwilling to discuss the matter – and yet. And yet, would outside perspective help settle the matter? Not if she disagrees with him, he opines, but if she does...
"Wrote. At home. About my cases. Our cases, I suppose. Attracted a rather large readership. Press..." He wrinkles his nose, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Last thing a detective needs is for people to know his face, but they did. One of John's most avid readers was a fellow by the name of James Moriarty."
Sherlock tilts his head to one side and licks his lips, clearly trying to find an angle of approach for this particular thorny problem. There really isn't one from which he isn't going to get stung, he finally decides, and so continues. "Consulting criminal. Brilliant enterprise. Need to get rid of someone? Evidence destroyed – or fabricated? Business burned down? Need to disappear? Moriarty is your man, for a price. He also liked to play games. I was a favourite playmate."
He waves a hand. Long story. "Quite clever, really. Used the press against me. I'd committed the murders. Fabricated the cases. Paid witnesses. Paid him. Just an actor. James Moriarty was just an invention of mine – that was the story. Enough fact thrown in to make it convincing. So I met him. Only way to make it stop."
To make it stop before he was arrested, before any chance of redeeming himself became available, anyway.
"I was a problem, of course. Had to be rid of me. Couldn't just kill me, too suspicious. Had to make it look like a suicide. So. He gave me a choice." The enunciation here is delicate, walking on verbal eggshells.
"I'd expected it. I had... contingencies. There was a deal, his terms, not mine: I kill myself – quite visibly, a jump from a rooftop – or his men do their work. John. Two others. Not here." He pauses, takes a breath. "A fair exchange, really. Moriarty shot himself. Nobody left to see if I decided to toy with the terms. Not from that angle. John... saw. For the best, really. Couldn't tell him. He had to believe, too risky otherwise. I did jump. Would've been a fair exchange even if I hadn't known I'd survive. That isn't my fault either."
It's what you're supposed to do, for friends. Everybody knows that.
no subject
"Wrote. At home. About my cases. Our cases, I suppose. Attracted a rather large readership. Press..." He wrinkles his nose, rubbing at the back of his neck. "Last thing a detective needs is for people to know his face, but they did. One of John's most avid readers was a fellow by the name of James Moriarty."
Sherlock tilts his head to one side and licks his lips, clearly trying to find an angle of approach for this particular thorny problem. There really isn't one from which he isn't going to get stung, he finally decides, and so continues. "Consulting criminal. Brilliant enterprise. Need to get rid of someone? Evidence destroyed – or fabricated? Business burned down? Need to disappear? Moriarty is your man, for a price. He also liked to play games. I was a favourite playmate."
He waves a hand. Long story. "Quite clever, really. Used the press against me. I'd committed the murders. Fabricated the cases. Paid witnesses. Paid him. Just an actor. James Moriarty was just an invention of mine – that was the story. Enough fact thrown in to make it convincing. So I met him. Only way to make it stop."
To make it stop before he was arrested, before any chance of redeeming himself became available, anyway.
"I was a problem, of course. Had to be rid of me. Couldn't just kill me, too suspicious. Had to make it look like a suicide. So. He gave me a choice." The enunciation here is delicate, walking on verbal eggshells.
"I'd expected it. I had... contingencies. There was a deal, his terms, not mine: I kill myself – quite visibly, a jump from a rooftop – or his men do their work. John. Two others. Not here." He pauses, takes a breath. "A fair exchange, really. Moriarty shot himself. Nobody left to see if I decided to toy with the terms. Not from that angle. John... saw. For the best, really. Couldn't tell him. He had to believe, too risky otherwise. I did jump. Would've been a fair exchange even if I hadn't known I'd survive. That isn't my fault either."
It's what you're supposed to do, for friends. Everybody knows that.