"I'm not the monster everyone says I am, Sherlock." Moriarty paused for a moment, looking past his adversary in thought. Snapping back to attention, he said, "but then again, maybe I am."
"If I'm a monster, my friend, then you're twice that. Or at least, you could be."
"I will never," said Sherlock, sitting up slowly, "be anything like you."
"Oh, but you already are!" said Moriarty playfully. "I believe you said 'mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself, but talent instantly recognizes genius.' We've been playing this game for too long now. It's grown boring. I want to see you dance on your own. I want to watch you create. When have you ever let your genius really loose? Oh, it's fun to solve puzzles, but we both know that you're holding yourself back. Haven't you ever looked at a crime scene and thought to yourself that you could have done better? Haven't you dreamt of doing better?"
Moriarty circled Sherlock, keeping the gun pointed at his head.
"Hasn't it at least crossed your mind that we could be better together?" he spat.
"Every day," replied Sherlock, looking Moriarty in the eye.
"Then why do you continue to fight me?" screamed Moriarty. "It's infuriating! I can't understand it! You're so logical, You have no emotions. I'm the wild card! I'm the emotional one! So why are you the one fighting for what's morally good?"
"Emotions?" said Sherlock. "you don't know anything about my emotions." Sherlock's mind was suddenly filled with thoughts of his best friend in the world.
"We are the same! We are entirely the same! Why can't you see it?"