I want the day to day life of Moriarty.
Taking out his completely innocuous trash, and the bottom of the bag falls out halfway to the bins.
Standing in line at the DVLA, checking online personal ads for someone to stand as a double for him next time he needs his license renewed, regretting killing little Richie Brook when he still had so much use left in him.
Fighting with his inkjet printer as he tries to print a cryptic ransom note (“I’m out of magenta? What does that matter?! It’s a black and white letter!”)
Sitting on the couch at his Nan’s house, wearing the ugly sweater she got him for Christmas, surrounded by her long-haired shedding cats with that grimace on his face. He has to yell and repeat himself over and over because her hearing is going. Trying to show her how to use Hulu since Netflix just lost the rights to her favorite soaps. Plate full of his favorite biscuits from childhood on the table. Pictures of Baby!Jim in frames on the mantle, atop copious doilies and nestled beside dusty bits and bobs. “You should come to church with me, Jimmy. Mrs Crenshaw has a lovely granddaughter you might like to meet 😉. And Father Kolb is always asking after you… says it’s been awhile since you’ve been to confession. I told him, ‘Father! A boy as sweet as my Jimmy? What could he possibly need forgiveness for?’ Still, you could light a candle for Mother Mary…”
Comparing yoghurts at the grocery store.
Stuck in traffic, plotting the demise of every person in every single car around him, then getting distracted when his favorite jam comes on the radio.
Gimme your headcanons, people.
Because when he says “Miss me?” I say “YES. YES I DO.”
