[The really fascinating thing is the similarities between them, the sudden alteration in body language. Both the male and female Moriarty happened to be experts in body language, happened to be experts in crafting themselves into being someone they weren't. Sherlock is capable of this, too, but he rarely, if ever, goes with the lie. He can handle an accent, use a turn of phrase, pretend to be rougher or different, but he usually just utilizes himself, as if he's asserting himself onto board where the puzzle is laid out and waiting.

But the way they go about it is different, like they're a pair of blank slates waiting for the opportunity to imprint something upon themselves. He idly wonders if Jim is an artist. He imagines he'll find out in time.]

My intelligence was never in question. [It's a graceful, easy reply, considering that his conversations with his own Moriarty would become sharper. But this is an introduction. He is not taken with this man, nor will he ever be. This man will never be a weak spot, a point he's eternally grateful about.] My uniqueness on the other hand, that's different. I feared I was the only one who had that threatened upon arriving here.

[A white lie. He neither worried nor cared much about it. Sherlock sees himself as utterly different from the other Sherlock. He's completely comfortable (and even pleased) with the fact. To have his extraordinary status ripped away from him wasn't even a point of adjustment.]