— James Moriarty is for hire.
— A tradesman?
— Yes.
— But not the sort who'd fix your heating?
— No, the sort who'd plat a bomb or stage an assassination. But I'm sure he'd make a decent job of your boiler.
If you hold anything back, I'll kill you. If you bend the truth, or if I think you're bending the truth, I'll kill you. If you forget anything, I'll kill you. In fact, you're going to have to work very hard to stay alive, Nick. I hope you understand everything I have said. Because if you don't, I'll kill you.
Crime can not be tolerated. Criminals thrive on the indulgence of society's understanding.
— How would you describe this man, his character?
— First mistake. James Moriarty isn't a man at all. He's a spider. A spider at the centre of a web, a criminal web with a thousand threads and he knows precisely how each and every single one of them dances.
The funny thing is on the outside, I was an honest man, straight as an arrow. I had to come to prison to be a crook.
Hand-made in Italy, hand-stolen in Stepney. It's as long as my arm, I wish it was as long as something else.
— I know somethin' ain't right.
— Sweetie, we're crooks. If everything were right, we'd be in jail.
— Don't worry, Spats. One of these days we're gonna dig up those two guys.
— That's what you'll have to do — dig 'em up.