Think

...Or Is It

People have still been reading this book and I feel bad for all the Shemma(?) shippers out there, so this is the awaited ending that everyone needed. It is a continuation of the last chapter called Think so if you forget what happened you might want to read it. Hopefully this will fill all of your shipping desires. Moriarty is back, and so is Emma.

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Sherlock walked through the door after it buzzed to unlock, a guard at his side. Why he was visiting Pentonville Prison? He was invited by a special someone, and he was still curious.

"I've got it from here," he told the guard as he continued to walk through the hallway. Room number 324. Well, cell number 324, but he didn't think she deserved a cell as cosy as the one she got.

316...318...320...

Almost there. What was he going to say? He already went it over a million times in his head. How it would start, what she would say, what he would say to end it.

324. After standing watching her sitting in the corner for a few seconds he cleared his throat, making her turn around. She stood up from her chair, shocked that he actually showed up, but not shocked so much that she couldn't say what she prepared.

"Sherlock, you're a dunce."

"Excuse me?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow. This was not how he planned to start off the conversation. A 'Look who's still in prison' is more of what he was expecting.

"You heard me. You. Are. A. Dunce."

Sherlock let out a short and shrill laugh. "How prison has changed you, Emma." He spat out her name like bitter tea made from someone other than Mrs. Hudson.

She dismissed the way he said her name and continued. "It has been three years, Sherlock. Moriarty came back and all of a sudden you don't even think about me."

I think about you everyday. "Why would I think about you?"

"When did you become so sarcastic? And why would you think about me? You really are a dunce, aren't you?"

She walked away from her chair and put her hands on the cold, metal bars, waiting for him to ask what was going on. He didn't need to.

"You shouldn't be in prison."

"Wow," she smiled. "You thought about it for two seconds and finally figured it out."

He would have given her a sharp look if it weren't for what he just found out. He sprung toward the bars and put his hands on her hands.

"How could I have been so stupid? It wasn't you, it was never you. You didn't work for Moriarty, he set you up."

"Do you want to know how it happened?" She asked, tracing his hands with her fingers.

He grabbed her fingers, making her look him in the eyes. "Tell me everything."

She smiled and laughed a little bit. "You think you can get me out of here first?"

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"This wasn't what I was expecting," Emma whispered in Sherlock's ear. They were in the back of a police car, five more in front and five more behind. Emma had cuffs around her wrists and her destination was an empty Cafe so she couldn't hurt anyone.

Sherlock grabbed her hand softly, underneath the view of the cops in the front seat. "I missed you," he whispered in her ear.
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Surrounded by police officers drinking coffee and eating lunch, Emma explained what happened.

"I was doing so good, and then Moriarty came. I was shocked because I thought he was dead but... He told me if I didn't comply I would be the one dead, for real. He just said I needed to report information back to him about how you thought, as if he didn't know, but it became so much more than that. Do you really think someone like me would miss the fact of someone coming into my flat and placing a note in my dresser? I'm not that slow.

"My 'friend' who taught me how to shoot was an actor whom I had to kill. Part of Moriarty's network, or course. I could solve all those crimes because Moriarty told me how they were done and then he framed me with the whole world still thinking he was dead. He played me, I played you. You know the rest. I couldn't leave because I had gotten so far and... He would've done worse things than trying to steal the crown. Remember the bomb in the Tube? That's probably the least he would've done if I denied him.

"You know the truth, but you can't tell anyone. I have to stay in prison. And please don't try to convince anyone, they'll only think of you as crazy instead of a crazy genius."

He sighed, knowing there was nothing more that he could do. "What do you have for me?" he asked her.

"Nothing too important." She took a slip of paper out of her puffy hair and handed it to him. "YOU LEFT ME ALL ALONE! HOW COULD YOU?" She lunged forward and rapped her arms around his neck. The officers quickly came and grabbed her. She was kicking and yelling, all the while being dragged down out of the cafe.

"I LOVED YOU!" Was the last thing he heard her yell.

After everyone left he opened the note and sighed. Why must it always be so complicated? He put the note in the empty trash bin and burned it, afterwards walking outside to hail a cab. He was still working on a case.

What the note said you all already know, but whether you actually figure it out is up to how much you're willing to observe.