He said, go to the devil. ”James Moriarty isn’t a man at all. He’s a spider. A spider at the center of a web. A criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances.”
It isn’t until four years later when he finds himself once again on the roof of St Bart’s Hospital that Sherlock finally has to admit Moriarty was right. Crime is common, genius is rare.
Without Jim, he is nothing.
Call’d him soft names in many a mused rhyme