Don't be ridiculous, why would we both get cold for nothing?

[That's a stupid suggestion, Sherlock can be quite lazy sometimes and there's no incentive to him going back out into the snow. John is coming here, so all he needs to is wait. Besides, he's interested in Gabriel right now, in the telling stiffness of his stance.]

I suspect you called me lucky because you suspect that I have people I love enough to kill for, and you do not. Which must mean your mother, a figure you must have adored and hated for the idolisation she put into you, is dead. Probably by your hand. Accident? Temper loss?