Ah. I'm not interested in playing with your metaphors, Jim. They bore me. [Jim instead of Moriarty, a separation. He is not her, and it suits what he is saying. He is careful, to some degree, to ensure that remains true. Moriarty is correct in assuming that Sherlock wants them to have nothing to do with one another, but he will not give them that satisfaction. He knows it is unwise to let them conspire with each other, to let them run free, but as of right now, there is little he can do to stop that.

Kick up a fuss like a child in a grocery and he won't get his way. As much as it is tempting to act in a temperamental fashion, to let his emotions get the best of him, he cannot let them.

Because those emotions will be a weakness. She is his weakness, his lack of clarity, and he cannot allow that clarity to double so far that it becomes an overwhelming fog. Emotions will lead to that. Humanity will lead to that. Some things cannot be helped (his high regard for Joan which leads to a protective instinct is one of them), but others can. He can control that.]

You seek what it is you enjoy. You do not enjoy those who don't meet your expectations. The only reason why you might desire a Sherlock is because of what might have been. It's the last slice of pizza even if you weren't actually hungry. [He bunches up his face at the thought. He hates bringing up food, bringing up the metaphor.] But there is no Sherlock Holmes without a J Watson of some type. I believe it more accurate to think that our lives are spent waiting for that moment. Not your moment.

That is the universally frustrating truth.