"I would try to convince you, but everything I could say has already crossed your mind."
"Probably my answer has crossed yours."
Moriarty gave him a patronizing smile. "I know you better than that Sherlock. Surely you wouldn't cut our games short before finding out whether or not you can beat me?"
Triumph. "Then you don't know me as well as you thought. I count this as a win." He fires the gun, catching the satisfying look of genuine surprise in Moriarty's eyes as he does so. The roar of John's pistol covers the noise of the silenced sniper rifles. He's going to die, but at least he'll take Moriarty with him. Heroic, he muses. Not a bad end at all. But Moriarty expression is morphing into a smile. What did he miss? Oh. Stupid. Should have just shot him. As the bullet strikes the sham bomb vest he feels the tranquilizer darts hit him and registers the smugly superior words, "Of course it did." As his legs fail him, Moriarty continues with the air of a man making the best of a bad situation, "I'm disappointed in you Sherlock. I expected you to think things through a little better. I suppose I'll just have to console myself with the thought that I had you at a rather large disadvantage. But either way..." He is on the ground now, clinging to his last shreds of consciousness, as Moriarty bends close, vicious satisfaction in his eyes, and his mouth forming the words, "You lose." He can't actually hear them over the roaring in his ears. He spares a thought from cursing his stupidity to recalculate the likelihood that the darts were in fact loaded with tranquilizers and not poison and then darkness takes him.