Mycroft and Emma sat quietly in front of each other in his office. Her presence was a bit of a nuisance to him. Not because of anything personal, but simply because she was presence. He liked being alone.

But his brother was wrong – he wasn't lonely. He just enjoyed his isolation.

"You have a treadmill in your office."

"I do."

"Any particular reason?"

"Why could I possibly have a treadmill for?"

They were both silent again. After that dinner, Emma thought that perhaps she ran into one of the most interesting people she ever got to know in her trips to England, but now she felt as if she was deceived.

The door opened, and the detective and the doctor entered without knocking.

"We brought the purse." Sherlock said, looking at Emma.

"Thank you. Sorry you had to bother." she said apologetically.

She got up and tried to take the purse, but Sherlock snatched it out of her hand before she managed to.

She looked at him confused, but her eyes reflected fear.

"Sherlock, stop acting like a child. Give it to her." Mycroft called from behind.

"You had no right to look in it." she said coldly.

Her expression was completely different, now that she realized what was happening. It seemed as if she removed a mask she put on before, and her true thoughts were now revealed.

"You shouldn't have left it behind, then."

"People make mistakes."

"What mistake did my brother make to make you try to poison him?"

Mycroft was startled by his brother. He wished that in any moment, she would burst out at him and blame him for making false accusations about her.

But she didn't. Instead, she sat back down.

"You get to know all sorts of people while working abroad. One of the people I met is Ian Thompson. He has a large weapon company. It's called T. , you can look it up if you don't believe me. When I told him I'm going to have you for company, he was terrified. The sound of your name made him shiver. He told me about everything you did – the number of people you used your job to kill, the blood you have on your hands – and he asked me to poison you, to make you stop. He said that you're looking for him, and that if I won't do it, you'll kill him!" she shouted at him with hatred.

There was genuine hatred in her eyes, and clear shock and confusion in the men's eyes. Neither of them understood what she was talking about.

All but Sherlock. Something about her story sounded strange, even familiar.

"What's the name of his company?"

"You don't believe me?"

"What is it?" he urged her.

"T. ."

Sherlock thought of the name. There was something awfully familiar about it, but he couldn't understand what it was. He tried to rearrange the letters, and that was when he realized what's wrong about the story.

"Oh."

"Sherlock, what is it?"

"It's an anagram."

"What is?"

"Oh, he's so arrogant. Always thinks he's uncatchable. If he wasn't showing off, perhaps he would have remained anonymous."

"What are you talking about? Who's showing off?" John asked nervously.

"Moriarty." Sherlock whispered.

"Moriarty?" Mycroft half-shouted in surprise. "He's dead."

"And so was I, until I wasn't anymore. Death isn't permanent, as you can see."

"What are you talking about? Who's this Moriarty?" Emma interrupted.

Sherlock walked to Mycroft's computer and typed something. He turned the screen to Emma, and pressed 'play'.

"After extensive police investigations, Richard Brook did indeed prove to be the creation of James Moriarty -"

"What is this? Why is there a picture of Ian there?" she asked, baffled, and pointed at Moriarty's picture on the screen.

"It's an article. Ian Thompson is actually Jim Moriarty, a criminal we thought that was dead –"

"No, you're lying. You made it all up."

"We didn't, Emma. I'm sorry, but that's the truth. This man is actually a criminal, and he tried to use you to kill me." Mycroft said softly. Unlike Sherlock, he understood her distress.

"Please tell me you're lying." she begged him with a look full of shame and betrayal.

"I'm sorry."

She put her head on her hands.

"So, the man I considered to be my best friend, is actually a criminal mastermind that faked his death and tried to use me in order to have you dead?"

"Basically." Sherlock said insensitively.

John looked at him with rebuke.

The woman took a deep breath and looked up to the computer screen.

"Then I –" she started saying.

But then, she screamed.

The men hurried to the computer.

The screen was now black, and white letters were being typed on it.

You should have killed him.

My target is now different.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it. It was the only thing she heard, and the other men were silent. Neither of them knew what to do next.

"Don't worry, nothing's going to hurt you. We'll make sure of that." the doctor said at last.

"I'll have body guards assigned to you, and I'll personally –"

"Can you leave us alone, please? Some things are ought to be said in private." she asked the couple with a trembling voice.

"Of course. Let's go, Sherlock." he said quietly, and the left the room.