"Very, very good," Jim cooed. "All accounts. Top marks!" Save for the common misconception about it being dangerous to sleep on a concussion. Moriarty wasn't a mind reader. He couldn't just skip through Sherlock's thoughts as much as he wanted to. And besides, Sherlock didn't know the most common of things so why would he know about that?

Moriarty's smile was jovial and almost sweet as he helped himself to a chair dragged across the room.

"It's still a very good facsimile. Bit like the house John and Harry grew up and and very much like the house Harry is currently residing in now."

He rocked forward almost to the point of tipping over into Sherlock's lap.

"Snow is never boring and I am never bored. There always more work on my side of the scale than there will ever be on yours. Sometimes I slip up just to give you something to do. And sometimes-- All I have to do is sit back and wait until you wander about so happily on your own." He pulled a monstrous face and then laughed merrily. "Have you missed me?"