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[logicals]

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from: scienceofdeduction

[logicals]

<sub>[ The meaning here is clear. Someone, somewhere, has discovered the link between himself and his alter-ego 'Bees?'- oh, he knew it'd happen sooner or later, especially if the likes of Lestrade had been able to work it out after some snooping.

Disappointing as it is, he might need to retire his little winged friend before more people start cottoning on just who pulls his strings behind the scenes. Still, no sense allowing the alias to disappear into the shadows; it'd only make it all the more obvious that he is 'Bees?'.

He'll just need to be more cautious in what he says as he works on building the next anonymous account up.

Probably a threat, then. Well, not necessarily a threat, but definitely a warning. Or is this just the desperate attempts of a man clawing at straws as his mind decays with the lack of stimulation, seeing underlying threats interesting nuances where there are none? Oh, it could be, but that's no fun, is it? So he'll dismiss that line of enquiry, instead opting to obsessively pour over the image and the username itself.

Because there's something here. Either they're aggressively guessing at his identity and hoping his reaction to this particular text will give him away or they're simply dangling the fact that they know over his head, hoping it'll incite... what, exactly? Panic? Fear? Excitement? As ever, not enough data.

Sherlock had been so blind, so caught up inside his own head that he's let his obsession with observation falter, barely caring enough to string the clues and signs together over his attempts to come to terms with his death (and the chaos that ensued shortly after as one by one his friends and acquaintances met their end, all because he'd been reckless with his recreational indulgences).

He's not a consulting detective any more. There are no crimes to solve, no murderers running rampant carving up corpses whilst he follows the ever elusive breadcrumbs in their wake. He's nothing but a face in the crowd, keeping his head down as he laments the way his mind rots from the inside out. He'd do anything to hold onto his mind, anything to distract it away from crumbling down into ruin; his mind palace is staggering under the weight of nothingness, constantly reaching out and grasping for data to keep him occupied as he works himself into exhaustion. But with one image, he can feel the decaying cogs start to turn, mind gearing up as he finds a focus that's consistently eluded him since his untimely death.

The sheet music is one thing: ominous, certainly, but it could be an attempt at phishing for information. He won't be giving any out if he can help it. It's the username that gives him pause. Either it's a random sequence of numbers, automatically generated as a default username or it has actual meaning; does is it follow a pattern, does it translate into anything intelligible or is he just over complicating matters? Clearly not a cipher, as both the number cipher (M0.KT.KJ.A) and alphabet cipher (na.lu.lk.b) bring up nonsense (unless it's an acronym, but there's still not enough data to draw any significant clues, so it's back around to square one unless he can get them talking). He can't help but feel as if it's staring him in the face; he's so very rusty, and he hates that it almost shows.

Still, replying seems like his best bet, and it gives him enough time to set about tracking down wherever this message came from. ]</sub>

Is that a hint? Sorry, I don't take requests. Besides, I've always been more partial to Piano Sonata No. 17.

un: 130.1120.1110.1

[archconsultant]

[ And there it is. Moriarty doesn't particularly care if Sherlock gets it or not. He's left it extremely obscure for that exact reason and only a particular strike of lightning will make it clear enough. Maybe Sherlock will simply wake up one day and go aha! Or perhaps his live-in pet will be sat tapping out a tune without realizing the implications until Sherlock shouts it.

Either way, he has Sherlock's attention and Jim doesn't intend on losing it any time soon.]

Do you like it? When I saw it, I thought of you. How are you not bored in a place like this? Sitting around and waiting for your retirement benefits to kick in must be terrible.

It might mean something.

[logicals]

<sub>[ Sherlock's attention is admittedly caught. So caught, in fact, he's having trouble focusing on anything else as he latches onto the possibility of having something to discover, because at this point he'd take most anything and beggars certainly can't be choosers.

And of course, he notices the fact that the letters 'r' and 'b' are bigger, the connotations obvious and clear as his mind echoes Richard Brook and to a lesser extent, the word >'Reichenbach; he swallows a brief swelling of panic as he stares down at the text that would seem so innocuous to anyone that wasn't him. ]</sub>

Boredom has been a constant source of grating discomfort that I've since come to expect after my cruel departure from the land of the living.

Are you going to fix it for me?

[archconsultant]

[ None of it is coincidence, all of it something put out there after considerable thought. Moriarty knows he can easily tip his hand and be totally obvious, or he could tiptoe around and play an even longer game.

At this point Jim realizes it would be better that Sherlock know he's around and work on trying to find him more than the identity problem. Besides, common sense would decree that he would be in Hell; if Sherlock was then undoubtedly Moriarty would be. With Sherlock aware on some level it would make the whole thing just that bit more interesting and Jim knows he won't be found unless he wants to be.

The letters IOU are just as blatant as his RB and the question simply underlines it.]

Do I look like a maintenance man?

I'm bringing home my baby bumble bee
Won't my Mommy be so proud of me ♪

[logicals]

<sub>[ Being totally obvious would ruin the game. That's the whole point. Hints and clues lingering on the edge of his consciousness, mind reaching out to grasp at every scrap of information he's been offered to consume and fixate at.

He realises that he shouldn't find a certain thrill in the possibility of coming up against the brain that so closely mirrors his own; nothing has pulled him through the haze of boredom quite like the promise of a razor sharp wit watching his every action. It clicks him into gear and gives him a reason to work the way he's meant to work, gives him a reason to start being more careful with the words he uses and the actions he commits within a public sphere.

He's thankful that Limbo Hotel is the only residence he has his name attached to. He might have to make a habit of visiting more often, if only to sway him against looking for Sherlock's new home.

If it's Jim, he'll want to come visiting eventually, that's just a given. He'll need to start actively paying attention to the order he's placed his magazines and random affects dotted around his room - he's sure he'd play with a few things in order to leave some sort of ominous feeling of violation. ]</sub>

Appearances can be deceiving.

Ouch, it stung me!