"I did not expect to see you, Mr. Moriarty," Mycroft's eyebrows raised as his surprise betrayed his usual calm demeanor. "All the best intelligence in Britain at my fingertips and you manage to slip through."

"I tend to do that," Jim smiled at Mycroft mirthlessly, "So how are things, Mycroft? We haven't spoken since out little chats in that special little room you had me in. Tell me, how did all that turn out for you?"

Mycroft winced at Jim's words. The last time they had spoken, Jim had learned Sherlock's life story from him and used the information to pose Sherlock as a fraud to the world. There wasn't a day that passed where Mycroft did not regret those days spent with Jim.

"You know how it turned out," Mycroft's voice was toneless as he stared Moriarty down. "Don't pretend like you are completely satisfied with this, Jim. Sherlock was the ultimate distraction for you and you miss it. You miss him."

"Do I? I don't think so," Jim sang.

"I don't believe you."

"I don't care what you believe! You're just as ordinary as Sherlock was – more so! Another DOOFUS!"

Mycroft was by no means a great conveyor of emotions nor was he keen to pick up upon them, especially from someone like Jim Moriarty whose moods seemed to change rapidly. Still, he was under the strong impression that Jim was lying.

"If that is how you feel, please feel free to show yourself out," Mycroft stood and motioned to the door.

"This won't be the last time you see me, Mycroft Holmes," Jim sneered out the name as he stood to leave.

"Certainly not," Mycroft said in mock pleasantry, "If I don't pay you a visit first that is."

"You won't find me."

"I can find anyone, I can find you."

"No," Moriarty shook his head, "You won't"

"I think you should be leaving."

"Why don't you find Sherlock first," Jim stopped at the door, not turning to face Mycroft.

"My brother is dead."

Jim turned his head slowly and smiled and genuinely amused smile. "Are you sure about that?" with those words, he strolled out of the door.