"Let me see if I fully understood your words. You say that Moriarty, the world's most terrible consulting criminal, doesn't know you're alive."
"You're a bit exaggerating, but yes."
"He managed to kidnap me in the middle of the night, take me god-knows-where, fake my death and try to actually kill me, yet he isn't observant enough to know you're alive."
Sherlock opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it. He had to admit, it did sound unbelievable. But it was the only explanation to all of the fact, and therefore, it must be the truth.
"Alright, so he doesn't know you're alive." Emma said. "How does it help us?"
"I… I don't know."
"Oh. So we have nothing, absolutely nothing to go on, other than this unreliable piece of information, that doesn't help us in any way!" she burst in shouts.
All of the men looked at her with shock. She never really yelled at them before.
"Sorry. I get a bit mad when my life is in danger."
"You were fine when you got shot." Sherlock remarked tactlessly.
"I wasn't talking about myself."
As Sherlock squinted his eyes at them in confusion, Mycroft chuckled and kissed her lightly on the cheek. After both their lives were in risk, he took advantage of every single moment they had together.
John sighed as he noticed his boyfriend's confusion. He pulled him down but his scarf and whispered something in his ear.
"What – that doesn't even make sense!" he whispered back, a bit too loudly.
"I did mean it, though. We have nothing to go on." she said after a moment of silence.
The detective's expression changed into a darker, and somewhat apologetic, one.
"Well, as I already said, his plan has two stages – Hell and Silence. The only way we can hurt him is at the most critical part of his plan - Silence. It's the only time he exposes himself. But until then…"
"We have to get through the Hell part defenselessly." his older brother completed as gloomily as his brother.
John stared at the Holmes brothers with shock, and then looked at Emma with sorrow, but her eyes were closed. Soft tears trickled down her cheeks.
"Thank you, Sherlock and John." she said, and her voice broke when she said John's name.
John got up from his chair and grabbed Sherlock's arm.
"Come on. We need to go."
"No, we don't."
"Sherlock…"
Sherlock looked helplessly at his brother, who just nodded coldly. He hated the way they all had that wordless communication. He could read body language better than all of them, but he always missed those kinds of signs that John never ignored.
"Fine." the younger brother muttered childishly and stormed out of the room, leaving John to nod apologetically and follow him quickly.