This was what made James Moriarty so dangerous, he was legitimately insane. Brilliant, perhaps even almost as brilliant as Sherlock himself in a different way, but utterly unstable with it. He was ruled by his emotions just as much as Sherlock was ruled by logic, and the two of them were destined to push and pull against one another in equal measures.

He could almost wish that John were here, he would be a steadying influence. Sherlock knew his own foibles, and he could quite easily be talked into some dangerous things, even life threatening things, just to prove himself right. The smartest person in the room.

"Perhaps it's you failing to live up to your potential, if I have to allow you some victories then doesn't that suggest that you're lacking?"

It probably wasn't the right thing to do to taunt Moriarty, but keeping himself from speaking what was on his mind had never been one of Sherlock's strong suits. He took the biscuit and bit into it with a smug sort of smile.

"Southwark, let me see, Great Guildford Street. Number thirty. Too easy."