Working out his bad mood on anybody wouldn't be satisfying enough. Previous attempts had learned him he needed more than just lying his fingers on a stranger passing by. Only one name came to his mind and as he started thinking about him, a smile grew on his face.
It indeed had been a while since he'd contacted his favourite detective. Nevertheless, he never took his eyes of him. He /always/ had someone monitoring his every move. Ideas of how to get to him this time were already finding there way to his mind. He'd fake a crime, making Sherlock come over and blindly walks in on his trap.
Only 5 minutes later the phone call to his contributor at scotland yard was made. He'd call Sherlock using Lestrade's phone. Bonus he was "on holiday" as well. At least something good happened this week. Once outdoor of his mansion a car was already waiting to drive him off to the so called crime scene.
An old warehouse at the south docks would do. No one ever used it anyway and Moriarty had turned it into one of his own personal torture zone. On the cold concrete floor a body, ripped open tip to toe. Sherlock will love this.
Moriarty went to a dark part of the room, unnoticeable to Sherlock as he'd walk in.