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Siger Holmes was not the brightest of men, he could never recall a time when he could keep up with his wife, or his brother in law, even when they themselves were kids, let alone his children.
Or better say child now. H just hs to get used to it.
He also had never felt this helpless. As he watched his only remaining child restrained and moved into a mental care facility.
Redbeard.
That was what that awful man who commited suicide knew? That was his wining card against his oldest? The horrible truth that made his oldest comply with his assault all those years ago?
The fact that they had a dead sister? How was that even blackmail material?
What a shitty mess.
His daughter was dead, because she was too curious for her own good, his oldest was dead, because he always was too protective of what he deemed worthy for his own good, and his middle child… he was too emothional for his own good…Sherlock was to stay in that god forsaken facility for who knew how much time.
Because he did not respond to anything. Not himself, not Violet, or even those odd friends of his. It was getting out of hand and the doctors were close to pulling their hair. No emotion, no reaction to pain, or cold or hotness. Nothing. As if he was in a coma, or brain dead.
so they had sent someone named Anthea. A profesional in dealing with Holmses, they said. As she had worked with Mycroft for nearly a decade.
And she did it, a total miracle. And all she did was give him a notebook full of giberish.
Siger felt useless. He was less useful to care for his child than a 10years co-worker of his oldest child.So in an attempt to be of use, he tried to do anything, any bloody thing he could so he did not feel like a piece of waste.
He used to be in military, not that much high, high enough to make low levels cough up all they knew.so he had pulled some strings here, some favors there.
How he wished he was in total oblivian.Sherlock had not uttered another word as he was being held down, or when he had been forced to be interviewed by a psychologist, or in that mental ward. They said he was broken by the pressure, by the weight of guilt he felt. And no, not guilt over torturing that traiter, Vivian NorBury . not guilt over forcing that poor bastard into killing himself. Forcing cause he had forced him into that. Reprogrammed him so he would kill himself as soon as he was done with him.
Who knew sherlock could do reprogramming just like Eurus? Because Mycroft was certainly more intelligent and never once had done such a thing! Or maybe he did? Maybe he had and they did not know? Because Sherlock had indeed reprogrammed himself when he was but a child…what kind of idiot Siger and Violet were to believe…
Oh heavens…
Frankly, Siger would have done the same. He felt sick , after what little he heard from his contacts. Apparently, Magnussen, who Siger found out he knew from Mycroft’s college days by the name of Charley, was Mycroft’s first friend.
His John watson, exactly.
The only friend a lonely 16 years old had found,lonely because he had been a bit chubby, and too smart, and too shy, and too…
Fuck. How they did not even blinked when he had told them he was going into secret service? He was just too vulnerable, too..
He had befriended him because Mycroft reminded Charles of his little brother. A little brother who had died in the fire Eurus started. And the smart boy he was, he had found out . They remained friends, until the day Charles found out about Musgrave and the fire.
Charles had found out and kicked Mycroft out of his life.
Had Mycroft went into MI5 for that? Because of guilt? Because of being rejected by his only friend? Because he thought it was his fault that Eurus and Victor..
Why they had instilled in him that he had to be responsible for his siblings? Was he not a child himself? He was only 7-8 years older, not at all suitable to care for them as they had asked of him. What a pair of awful parents they were! They asked too much. The boy had felt he had to play the role of an adult, while not one yet. He had remained silent, took whatever they had thrown at him and dealt with his problems alone.
Always alone.
He remembered him. The boy.Mycroft of those days, was an anxious, sweet kid, who knew more than all of his teachers combined. He was polite as hell, but his politness, intelligence and appearance made him an easy prey for bullies. And he never told them of the bullies. Because the kid considered himself the second, less important, the one who had to be responsible for his siblings.
God. It had ended his only friendship. Their mistake. His and violet’s Mistake to busy themselves with whatever they thought was important at that time.
Thus the end of their fierce friendship, bond, whatever they had between them. Marking them as enemies, sworn enemies.
Siger found out about all those troubles Magnussen had caused for Mycroft. To take revenge of the fact that his sister , Eurus, had killed his brother. One time he had assaulted him personally. One time He had sent his address to assassins, sold his plans to the opposing party, even let slip a secret govermental paln named bond air to a lowly officer, who had leaked it to his mistress, who had made quite the scandle by the help of Sherlock.
And in all those situations, Mycroft endured. He had not reacted at all. Siger’s guess was that he felt guilty for Charles brother death, and still remembered those short good times. Still honored it. Cherished it.
Was this why he had not a single friend? that he thought he was responsible? Did he take that break that hard?
Of fucking course he did. Mycroft loved ACTING and READING and OPERA and THEATRE. He was too soft a boy those days to not break. His trust had shattered then and there. So He had not brought home a single date after that. Why the hell he thought it was his fault?
Siger remembered that he was a mess. Sherlock was 9, and the psychologists said that he was making more of a progress. That he could join his peers soon enough and they need not bother hiring a teacher for him in home. Were they, he and Violet so over the moon they had not noticed Mycroft?
They had, hadn’t they? They just did not care enough to do somethinf about it, about their oldest boy not being happy.
How Siger did not noticed that he had seen Magnussen one christmass in his own house? How he had forgotten him and his one year long friendship with his son?
Was Mycroft truly that neglected? Did he, he and his wife, care that little for him?
Because all he could remember was of Sherlock. His cases, his friends, his problems . Most of their pictures were of Sherlock. Only a single one was of Mycroft, when he had graduated… had they abondend Mycroft?
And all those awful mistakes Sherlock made and he had kept silent about it, less he made his parents sad. Or worse mad at him for not watching over his younger brother. And they never mentioned that sherlock was an adult, fully grown and should be bloody able to take care of his own. Not needing a babysitter. Why in hell they had gone so soft over him, and so hard on Mycroft? Did he even had anyone to watch over him? No, not watch over what he did, to watch over his mind, his psych, his soul.
They had erased him alltogether. Never to bother about his problems or dilemma’s. He could tell himself that it was because Mycroft had an important job, that he needed secracy, but he knew all along, and gussed Mycroft knew it too.
They had blamed him, a 13-14 years old for what happened to Victor all those years ago. They had ignored him and his needs to care for his brother, and he even allowed himself to blur into background because he thought it was his fault.
So he hid his brother’s failure, to allow his parents to believe the illusion of having a good son, that Sherlock certainly wasn’t.
He did not tell them of his long stays in rehabs. He did not tell them about his drug use. He did not tell them that Sherlock had revealed the bloody country’s secrets to a hooker. Getting himself in trouble constantly and being thrown into cells every other days.Or wanted to give those missle plans to Jim fucking Moriarty.That he allowed his so-called friends to ridicule and undermine his brother. That he called Mycroft , Fatcroft. A name he knew he hated it.
Had all of them failed that boy so miserably? Did he know at all if anyone in the world loved him at all? because Rudy had used him to get retired early. His parents used him to get free time by making him babysit his siblings and then when was older, they traded luxuries like hoterls , plane tickets and fancy restaurants with the danger he faced everyday at that job of his.
How he , as his father, had never known just how much he was important? An agent in MI6? How he had fucking believed it? He was in goddamned army himself and he had never reached out to his contacts to know exactly how or what his son did.
And for sure, Mycroft knew it too. He would have thought that they saw no more than a credit card, or an (out of prison card) in Sherlock case.
Was it that? Had he ever told him he was afraid to know? To know that maybe his son partly run the country, that he had to deal with assassinations attempt daily?
Most of his intel came from his assistant, Adrianna Grey who went by the name of Anthea. She had told them about all those dirty things, all of that. And it made him feel ashamed.
She was more of help to his son than his whole friends combined.
What was that boy thinking when he was dieing , hurt and in pain and bleeding on the ground, knowing his life to be over… had he regreted it?
==
Anthea was now more used to this name than that of her birth, Adrianna. Mycroft was the one to gave it to him.
Oh how she had been afraid of him at first! He had been some kind of a myth, legend. Stoic and cold and distant and a bit of a bastard. He had been in the office for what? A year and he had 4 assistants running away in tears. Who was she, a bloody fresh agent, to succeed where others so much better than her had failed? They said he would dissect you, chew you and spat you in one breath. Something she could not handle, if she left the force, she would be on the streets, so come hell or heaven she would stay. Short of strangulation, she could not think of anything that would make her leave.
And he was what? At Most 30? He must be scared too, it was his first time doing this. So she remained professional, no flirting, no stupid jokes or attempts at figuring him or his private life.
And he had not been that with her. He had been calm and collected. Never made her cry or asked more than she could handle. She had asked him one time and he simply said : I just behaved as they themselves behaved, as they expected me to behave.
And their relationship evolved. She dare say he was her sort of a friend. She had been entrusted with his notes and some of his belonging, his things, his secrets. The more she stayed, the more she found out that his problem was not fucking being non-caring, it was caring too much to even let people worry over problems he could handle singlehandedly. Even if dealing with them hurt him. She had seen him after each one of sherlock overdoses, and more.
She had seen him after that first meeting of Moriarty with Sherlock, how he was shaken. He had tried to ensure himself that sherlock was trust worthy, and time and time again he had been let down. When he had given him Andrew West case, it was to know if he could be trusted with bigger things, maybe to take part of his responsibilities, and…Sherlock had handed the flash drive to Moriarty as if it was nothing. Then again came his fuckup with Irine Adler, and then snooping in Baskerville.
Sometimes she felt like hitting him, or shaking sherlock fucking Holmes so much he could understand. Was he that much of an idiot not to consider the amount of stress his older brother was under? He had to deal with weekly assassinations attempts, stupid aristocrats and diplomats and politiciens alike, had to monitor his colleagues for treason, had to take care of their spies and their families and go to so many funerals. She was a hair away from killing sherlock when he had blown up their plans , Bond air. did he not know that it could have gotten Mycroft fired? And if he was fired..
He would have been killed. Tortured and killed.
So when he had been shot, she was not surprised. She told Mycroft years ago that Sherlock would be the death of him.in fact many in the office predicted it would happen and it would be because of Sherlock. Oh She wanted to watch him suffer, because he bloody damned well deserved it. Although When he had gone and exposed Norbury, she was taken by surprise.
So maybe he did give a fuck about his brother, still too little too late, after the man died. but when you expect less than zero from someone, you wont be disappointed much. And then when he went after Magnussen, she felt better about not killing him when she could. She felt a little bit proud.
she knew Magnussen was bad news, and was aware that he had hurt Mycroft a lot. She had planned to take Norbury the traiters head, but the woman was now a useless vegetable. Magnussen killing himself was good too. Everyone in Mycroft circle were happy the man was dead.
So when Siger Holmes reached out, she volenteered . she gleefully informed him of his, and that blasted wife of his of their shortcommings. The wife- she did not deserve to be Mycroft mother, annoying bitch- showed little remorse, but the supposed father went all sad and in thought.
Again, too little too late.
Now, now it was time to talk with the brother, make him hurt alittle, and by default, Violet Holmes. Because she loved Sherlock, if not Mycroft. And if Anthea had to hit Sherlock to make Violet pay for her crimes of neglecting and hurting Mycroft, so be it.
No one could say that she was not a bit of a vengfull bitch herself. And Mycroft was not around to pull the plug. She could sit and watch the whole family fall apart and get what they deserved.
==
As Sherlock was sitting on his cell, he contemplated again.
He had gotten rid of the traiter, Norbury. From her clues, he found out about the disgusting thing that was Charles Magnussen. And now, he was stuck.
He doubted the ‘she’ that Mycroft and Moriarty talked about was Norbury, and Magnussen was defenitly male, and identified by being a man. The appearance of his father and mummy was NOT HELPING at all and those pitiful looks he got from John made his blood boil. Was the man an idiot? What he expected of him? That he abonden his brother’s torturors and killers to roam free on earth? At least Lestrade had the mind not to disturb him.
And those ignorant mindless chickens who called themselves psycologists, were they nuts? Couldn’t they tell he was not broken, or mad or shaken with grief, but he was tryng to solve the murder case? The case his brother gave him in his dying breath?
Because Sherlock could seethat now, Mycroft knew what he was telling Moriarty on those last seconds. Moriarty was brilliant, but if he was a bright light, his brother was the sun. he would have known Sherlock could hear their conversation, meant fo him to hear it.
Oh Mycoft…
How he could explain to these little goldfish that he was working on a case? He was not tramautized!
Not broken!
Yes , he felt like vommiting when he thought about Mycroft. Yes his heart was tearing itself apart, he was angry, he was sad, and he was annoyed, but not broken. He only wanted to solve this case and then..
Right, the case first.
Thank anyone who was in charge, finally finally his father made the right call and brought Anthea. The woman had a pinch of brain somewhere in her head. She brought a notebook full of Mycroft’s thoughts and memories.
Of course it had a catch.
It was not bloody written in any human language! He could really kick his brother where it hurt, because there was no way he could decipher it without help!
And yes, the psyco psycologists did try to take it from him, in fact took it away for a time,but not eating anything for 10 days straight made them give it back.
Now cracking the blasted notebook from hell… how.. oh how…
Smallwood?Mummy?uncle Rudy?
He grimaced, Anthea?
Or maybe….
Oh yeah!
It was the third month after Magnussen he cracked it, thanks to his own name. because whatever could frequent his brother’s thoughts but he himself? The junkie who landed his ass in holding cell every other week? He would have been offended if it was not the case!
He started from scratch, fearing he could lose any detail he might have written. Pouring his whole attention into it, and reading it.
(he just read it, not made notes in the notebook, it was his brother’s last remnant, kind of sacred. And he wanted to keep this small part of him for himself, selfish? Yes. But he could not bring himself to share it with anyone. Sharing it made him feel less connected to My, and it hurt like hell)
The idiot had not written about assassinations, or state secrets, or even his daily life. It was small moments he thought it was worth remembering. Whyever he had written them in code, was beyond sherlock.
Today sherlock made a mess , for the first time not for me, but Scotland yard. I watched Lestrade going about every mobile phone and cursing as they had all had their background changed to a silly picture of him with a bloody birthday hat and fake mustach.My old instructor was red in the face and Smallwood kept lookin at me funny, like she feared I was planning the downfall of civilazations or whatnot. It is not my fault I couldn’t stop smirking! It was funny! Also I just planned the downfall of america only once! Ok! Twice! Who am I kidding! Once was when I heard about the bloody watergate, then when wall street happened and shit hit the fan in 2008. And for my defence, watergate happened when I was but a baby! I heard about it my stupid hormonal phase! Forget about it, Might get Sherlock the violin he nagged me to buy for 1000 times already.
Sherlock read it with a smile on his face, good to know why Mycroft was so generous that week. He still had the violin, although not on baker street where the priceless artifact could get stolen any moment.
Good to know he was not only the bringer of grief to his brother, he had made him laugh sometimes too.
No one will believe it, but I have called Anthea , Antha so many times I can not remember her real name and I feel too embarassed to look at her file for this!
IF SMALLWOOD looks at me like I am some gorgeous treat once more I am poisoning her!I am not handsome you stupid girl! Get a grip woman! I am not interested! Why in bloody crown’s name you would drink two bottles of shampine if you can not TOLERATE IT! Stop flirting!
Only Mycroft would say in crown’s name. only he would be pissy about being called handsome…
(bile rose in his throat, was he insecure about his body? was it him calling him fatcroft? Was it him who made him feel not handsome? Not good?)
I called SH. I don’t know what she might want this year.
Who was SH? Because it was not him, Sherlock. Want this year? this year what? Mycroft had given him presents only on his birthdays. Who was this mysterious woman he gave gifts to? Mycroft never got anyone gifts but family. Himself, their parents, uncle Rudy when he was alive.
Was it a cousin?
Was it his, he gagged, mistress?
So He had analysed anyone who might be that, with Sh as a name.
And no result. He was getting frustrated and as a result ,He might have been more of a brat that day, kicked a nurse , bit a doctor. And they sedated him.
_ sherlock was in his mind palace. In the room where Mycroft alwayse resided when… but he had not been there for sometime. Because he could not find him there. If Mycroft was there, he wouldn’t bother with the outer world and stayed in his mind palace for eternity.
They might have never said it, but losing the other one would have broken the left sibling’s heart.
Well it did in Sherlock’s case anyway. He was used to having someone have his back, watch him not to get in trouble. Brag , nag, even ridicule him. Call him stupid and idiot. Be there when he hit the ground.
Now?
It was a giant Mycroft shaped hole in his mind, his heart.
And it hurt.
Dealing with the world hurt. Seeing their parents becoming sadder every day hurt. Watching Anthea and Smallwood watching him with barely hidden disgust hurt. Seeing John pity him and trying to tell him it was not his fault hurt. The truth hurt.
Because the truth was that he had a hand in killing Mycroft. He could admit it now, freely.
And John, oh his first friend who now was back to limping around, who came sometimes and just looked at him with the look of a kicked puppy.
It hurt.
And don’t start him on Molly, or Mrs Huddson, Or Lestrade…
He wanted to take a knife and cut the useless limb that was his heart. But he could not.
He had work to do.
Murderers to find.
He dreaded entering this room and yet…needs must.
Imagine his surprise when he found his brother, sitting on the sofa , in his old flat on 221B, wearing that ridiculous three pieces suit with the red tie.when he saw him, he stood up:
“tea?”
He was shocked. Too shocked to respond.
“cofee?”
Mycroft was back! The room was not empty, or worse filled with blood, or his brothers lifeless body.
“Sherlock I am certain there is a toungue in your mouth, and I taught you how to use it, in fact I might have taught you your first swear wor…”
He had ran, ran like there was no tommorow, and hit Myc and throw him on the ground and hugged him with such force that he had coughed.
“sherlock I am..”
And he begged.” Please My. Don’t go. Don’t leave me. I never thought the world , my world would be so empty without you. That I feel this scared and useless. I couldn’t find you. I got you murdered and couldn’t find you even in my own mind. I know you.. you were …that you might not want to do anything with me, but… it kills me to not see you even here. Please brother. I don’t have anyone else who can understand me to your level. No one is caring like you. They…
They left me in this godforsaken asylem and told me Im broken and mummy accepted it and father accepted it and john and others too. You wouldn’t, I know you wouldn’t..
And I thought about killing myself and was not sure if I could see you and…
Please My. Please.
I know I don’t deserve you.
I know”
And he felt his fingers in his hair, and on his back drawing circles
“hush little one, my precious brother, my pride and joy. I told you I loved you , didn’t I ? I knew you love me back silly. Hush now. It was you who removed me out of guilt. And it was wrong of you to do so. Now you have came back, we solve it together”
Grey meeting Green.
“always together, against the world”
Sherlock was not certain whether he was laughing or crying or sniffing, and truthfully, he did not give a damn.
“I will never ever leave you dear mine. Brothermine. I love you like a brother, like a parent , like all the love that I am capable of giving is yours. Havent I proved it?
Now release me, we have works to do”
And sherlock smiled.
==
“how long has he been like this?”
Smallwood asked.
“about 24 hours”
The doctor answered. There was a cry of despair from Mrs Holmes” Sherlock dear heart please!”
Mr Holmes sighed.
“ he has not talked. Not to me or his mother or his friends. I’ve seen my… I’ve seen Sherlock in this way, he is in his mind palace. We are afraid…”
The woman names Anthea scuffed” he won’t got stuck, SIR was on his mind palace once, it took him 45 hours to come out of it , but ..”
“ shut it”
Siger Holmes turned to look at her.
“ don’t talk about my son as if you knew him better..”
And she laughs, a bitter dark one “ oh? Do tell”
And when he tries to speak, she interups him “ maybe your youngest, your dear.. SHERLOCK- she says with an ugly sneer- the apple of your eye, but Mycroft? Do tell me about the time he was poisoned by sodium tripentol, or no no, not that, you were… where? Antalia maybe? So ok. Tell me about that time he was stabbed 3 times, had spleenachtomy.. no? not that too? A shame..”
Siger face grows red, then with each word, darker and darker- he really did not know?-“don’t you talk to me with that attitude,it is all your doin..”
“MINE! MINE?”
“YOU AND THAT NOTEBOOK OF..”
Smallwood thought, oh the notebook.sherlock had fought with tooth an nail to get it back “ I assure you Mister Holmes, our best tried their hand at de-cripting it..”
And now it is mister Holmes to laugh “ your best? Your best can not hold a candle to him..”
“when he was NOT a BROKEN MESS , yes. But now? Tell me he is a genius right NOW, tell me!”
And Senior Holmes looks away.
==
“sherlock brother, you see but do not observe!”
“I am observing just fine! You are mad if you think that giberish written notebook is more than a bunch of nonsense!”
“sherlock!”
Sherlock looks away sheepishly, ashamed he had called his brother mad and his notes giberish and nonsense. “ can you..”
“could you please..”
And Mycroft hugs him, and kisses his mess of curls. Just like when they were but kids.
“ try like this, I know you have memorised all of pages now. Put any page with your name away, and focus on other pages. Pages that do not contain any thing about you or your friends.ones makes you think..I might have been a bit of a lunatic, out of character for me”
Sherlock does that.
-Ever heard of the movie based on J.K.rollings?
-Anyone who reads lords of the rings, but not Silmarion is an idiot.
- Sahara has a terrorsit group base turned vigilantee.
-Trusting a person who loves Rom-Com is wrong.
-Whenever you buy thai, be prepared for stomachache.
He skips the rest of sentences.
-I
-N
-D
- S
-H
-E
….
EAST WIND SHERINFORD
“good job Sherly. Now try Redbeard, Musgrave and East wind.”
Sherlock looks at his brother, flabbergasted.
“the room which is always locked. The room you try every time you overdose.”
“MY..”
“I know Sherly. Just..try for me?”
Sherlock tries, and the door opens. He is suddenly hit with a forcful wave of memories, ashes and wind.
“Eurus”
==
Smallwood is about to go to extreme, call Sherinford to get help from Eurus EXTREME, as she feels worse and worse as time passes and there is no change in Sherlock’s mood. His parents are nearly killing themselves with worry and she does not need anyone getting a heartstroke now at all.
Then Sherlock opens his eyes: where is my Blogger?
That surely takes them by surprise.
What in bloody hell happened?
“ I said, Where is my blogger? I know there is someone watching me from the other side of that glass. Whatever I have done to get myself locked in a…he looks around him self.
“oh”
“ in a mental ward, is over. Must have been the new combination of drugs. That 10 percent solution was so un-called for”
To say she is confused, is the understatment of the year.
“oh sherly..”
And now Mummy Holmes talks too.
She was a sobbing mess, would not stop crying and begging and ..other unplesant acts she is loathe to admit to. Who calls a fecking grown up MY SHERLY WHIRLY? Is this woman mad?
“ he has done it, done it again.”
“care to enlighten us with ? done what? Again?”
And she explains. She explains that when Victor, Sherlock’s childhood friend, gone missing, Elizabeth tries her hardest and does not flinch or curls her lip in disgust as she hears ‘ Victor gone missing’,
Sherlock had entered a sort of terence, a meditational state as her brother, Rudy , had stated and later confirmed by Mycroft.
He had either blocked, erased or re-written his whole memory to not be reminded of his best friend’s loss, or the sister that assisted it. He , as bright as he was, was still a child, and his mind was unable to process the information, or deal with the trauma . Mycroft suggested they do not interfere with it, less he breaks from the weight and pressure, and As Eurus had later died in a fire, they did not saw fit to inform Sherlock of those missing years.
What an unpractical approach. Did they really utelized the idea of a teenager to ‘not interfere with it’ and left it at that? Yes Mycroft bloody Holmes was indeed a genious, that did not make him a pro in dealing with trauma or a child psycologist over night. And Rudy had his moments of brilliance, but surely that did not allow him to just mess with…
The shouting gets her attention.
“Im bored! Bored! Get me a case! Get me John!”
Elizabeth sighs, Mycroft was never this indignified, alas a bored Holmes is a tad more dangerous than she likes to deal with.
“get this man his blogger or he will find a way to bring doomsday”
So they will.
A half hour later and Dr Watson sits in front of her.looking more lost than when he was before.
“so .. he had a sister and… what? She was a jealous bint and turned a murderor at…five? Bloody five?”
Violet is glaring daggers at him, about to open her mouth and say something unsavory and unsettle all the progress they have made. Dealing with Holmses for years, Smallwood is not accostomed to slow people like John and she will resort to some un-lady like activities if she has to repeat all she said another time.
“silence Violet, or I will remove you from this facility altogether.”
“you have no..”
She stands to her full height, steeling her gaze. “ try my patience one more time, Holmes, and you would regret it. I am not Mycroft, bending over backwards to get your approval. I am not going to coddle Sherlock, or all who are related to him so not to break him. He is a grown up and your behavior is more than appaling. If HE did it out of sentiment , it was his decision and as he is not around now, thanks to your son. I would shut my mouth to keep my remaining child alive, if I were you”
She watches with satisfaction, when she trembles at mentioning Mycroft’s name, or that Sherlock was responsible. She keeps mum, and if she clears a drop or two of tears, she does not care.
“I still don’t understand. Eurus was a child , and killed a child, Victor out of jealousy. And she died. And sherlock erased her?”
Elizabeth shakes her head. The Dr is still in shock and has not processed all of it.
“may be you should put it in your blog, that you do not understand”
“wait, wait. How does one re-arranges one’s memories? Huh? And you say Sherlock did it, twice? It can not be healthy, now! Come on! He deletes the problem! He …”
“so I can not even talk about Mycroft anymore? But..”
And here’s another round of explanation. Sometimes, Smallwood really wished to use Mycroft’s methods. Kidnapping and scaring the daylight out of someone seemed more and more enticing.
==
Over the next weeks, the protocols are slowly loosened bit by bit. John and Greg make a couple of visits, and bring Sherlock some cases to solve.
It seems that everything is back to order. It is now ordinary Holmes problems for Elizabeth Smallwood to deal with. She has Anthea working like mad, she has not forgotten the bloody mess she caused by giving Sherlock the stupid note. She has hired a dozen people doing what Mycroft did, and had to slip some of the most tricky ones as cases Sherlock gets from his friends.
All is well, mostly.
Elizabeth is slowly lulled into her safe zone. Doing daily inspections, boring meetings, watching over the safty of important assets located overseas.
The Queen has not requested a report from PALL in monthes, thank her majesty for being thoughtful. Although, it is not pall anyway, with Vivian turning out to be a traiter and Mycroft out of the picture…
Another aspect of her job she hates is ‘leg work’ as Holmes put it. She has to personally see to some problems, delicate matters that need a personal touch.
This is one of them. She is in Scotland, dealing with such a matter, awiating for further instructions from her superiors, that has yet to arrive.
Then there is the message.
What she secretly dreaded all this time.
“Sherlock has broken out by now. Watch Sherinford.”
As she gets out of the safe with haste, making calls left, right and center to have a feel of the situation, she does not understand when and how she instructs to get John Watson, and Elder Holmes ASAP on a plane to Sherinford.
She gets debriefed by Anthea, over how in hell this catasrophe happened in the first place. Apprently Sherlock asked for some kind of fruit, a KIWI , a damned bloody Kiwi and pretended to choke and have an Anaphylactic shock. The useless doctor panics, and the guard panic,and of course Sherlock used that and ran away and got the whole facility on lock down until they could somehow contact Anthea .
It is with a heavy heart she confesses defeat, that Sherlock had got them at the end. Fooled them all. that he had figured something from that bloody notebook and fooled them into thinking he had forgotten.
Apparently not.
How he had de-coded the fecking notes, how he had found out bout sherinford and how it was connected to his bloody crusade of killing all who were at fault for the episode on the Bart’s hospital roof, is beyond her.
Does he know about the sister?
She can only guess, and dealinf with Holmeses all her life, it is always safer to think of the worst. For it is true that having a Holmes at helm is a must, and dead useful, but with great interest, comes great danger, great risk.
There is no greater a danger than a Holmes on the loose.
So she wears her big girl pants, inhales deaply and tell them. Better safe to be sorry, she has learnt her lesson now. After norbury, after Magnussen and the latest trick Sherlock has done…
She is calm, detatched even. Her tone never changes. She tries to steal her face, her posture, and yet there is sweat gathering under his armpts and on her back. Her mouth is dryer than ever and she feels sick. Her whole body is tense, frigid, waiting for the likely explosion , which surprisingly does not come.
She does not look the parents, she does not look at the good doctor’s face when she breaks into them the Sherinford mystery.
The not-so-much-dead Eurus.
It is Violet Holmes who breaks the uncomfortable silence, and she dare say she is grateful.
“so Eurus, my girl was alive all this time?”
The first spark of the infamous Holmses, rationality before emotion.
She nods.
“and m..Mycroft knew?”
She sighes.
“yes, but he was not always in charge. Until late Mr Holmes- Your brother Rudy, was alive he was in charge. That was about 7 years ago. And again, he was not at liberty to tell anyone until he …got higher in ranks enough to not have so many..higher ups.”
Violet motions her to go on.
“that was about the time Doctor Watson and Sherlock met.”
And she falls silent again. she has informed them of Mycroft trying to break it to sherlock many times, and that he was agitated even hearing about ‘east wind’. She is about to tell them some other hidden things, when a voice stops her.
“Anthea?”
“there was a breaking on level 7. I repeat there was a breaking on level 7.”
“and?”
“I might have found the link”
The link?
The next few minutes, is scrutiatingly slow in passing. While Anthea goes on telling them of the 5 minutes un-observed meeting between Eurus and Moriarty.
“bloody hell!”
Watson says, and Elizabeth agrees. What possessed Mycroft to do such a thing?
The rest of the journey passes in total silence, with all on boared deep in thought. In return, she has them watching one of the reports from Eurus last psycologists.
“to call this woman merely brilliant or genious, would be a mistake. She is the one, the genious of the era. She can solve the hardest math problems or codes in a minute, and we measured her powers against her sibling, and her uncle. While her uncle is bright and more intelligent than 90 percent of the populance, it takes him a day or two to break the code. For junior Mr Holmes, whose mind powers is considered on pair with Einstein it takes half an hour. Mister Mycroft Holmes is..what can I say? A prodigy in all kind. He can do the work of like 20 ordinary people in one day. And he has the mind of like 10 geniouses combined. I have not observed his other sibling, Sherlock in person, but I consider him to be between the uncle and the brother, faster than uncle, much slower than Mycroft. From the reports and survilance videos, I estimate him to possess 50-45 percent of his brothers talent, which is still stunning.
But Eurus… if the likes of Mycroft Holmes is like 2 or 3 people on the whole planst, the liklyhood of having a single person like her, is none, zero percent. She is at least 10 times faster than Mycroft Holmes and that just seems…impossible if I had not observed her in person. She can reprogram people with only her voice, and can deduce a killer by watching a 30 seconds feed. She lacks any kind of morality from what I gathered, and has the stubborn-ness of a Holmes. The world could burn and she would not lift a finger to help. She has made 7 other psycologists to commit murder and suicide, and made a nurse of her to cut her own finger while she watched indifferently. From that time, we were instructed not to approach her at any cost, until either senior Holmes, or junior are present. She stays silent while Mister holmes the senior is present, and only cooperates at a minimum when Mycroft Holmes is present. She asks for her other brother, but both of Holmeses refuse, as it was proven that she can affect anyone with her voice, but Mister Mycroft”
The silence seems to grow, and the light appears to be dimmer.
==
Sherlock is disapointed when he can bypass the defences they supposedly put around the facility all too easily.
What is happening to this country without Mycroft? What will be next, Taliban in Yorkshire? Seriously, these people have to get better, try a little harder!
He first contacts one of his homelss network, because of knowing about Sherinford, does not mean sherlock knows the way too. It takes some very long minutes- Sherlock is certain Smallwood has been contacted- so he has to hurry up.
Getting a gun and some special powder to send people to sleep is easy, getting a boat to take him to that far-away idland is not.
While he shivers in the back of the miserable excuse of a boat he had manged to get his hand on, he silently giggles.
This will be the last one.
The last one and after that…
Mycroft in his mind palace scowls, but as grateful of his presence Sherock is, he sttill knows that his brother , the real thing is dead. He really has no idea why his not-so-dead murderous sister targeted Mycroft, or what the hell Moriarty was talking about (him and Eurus ).
Had Moriarty brain washed her?
No, he couldn’t. from what he remembers, mind you, it is bits and pieces, Eurus was smarter than Mycroft and that was..saying something. The spoilt bitch got Victor drowned, and wanted to burn Mycroft alive when she was 5. Now?
She could have only gotten worse.
And she had, had she not? She somehow arranged everything, all things to result in Mycroft’s death. He suspects that Mycroft , in a moment of sentimentality, had let his guard down, and somehow Moriarty met Eurus.
Could she be the one who made Jim, the Moriarty? After all, he was not so big of a criminal a couple years ago.
Sherlock was certain, that the first (she) was Norbury, the second is (Eurus). Getting the world rid of Magnussen was just a..parting gift from him.
Mycroft sighs “ sherlock, really?”
he rolls his eyes. “You really have to have the last word huh? Ok, not a gift, an act of revenge, whatever. Happy now?” He deserved it and the world feels cleaner without him in it. End of story. He thinks.
Again Mycroft, who is not in his mind and is sitting next to him now, sighs.
“you have to let me go, sherlock.”
He pretend he does not hear.
“sherlock, it is not healthy.”
He ignores him.
“sherlock please, you have to let me go. Your.. brain can not deal with this much pressure. Your psych will be harmed, and I fear you break this time, for real”
Sherlock arches an eyebrow, as if to say so what?
“sherlock dear, you can not leave these goldfishes to their own devices. Just look at the awful security around your cell. Imagine What happens if instead of you, it was a dangerous criminal master mind? And what about your friends? Mrs huddson will cry. Ms Hooper will cry and Lestrade will feel guilty. And Jo..”
Sherlock glares.” Don’t you go there!”
“sherlock our parents…”
He violonetly cuts him off” dear Mummy and Father? What about them? They were fine without knowing about Eurus, and they were fine after …after you. Another one would not matter”
“oh sherlock..pl..”
But sherlock makes him silent. He is not an idiot, knows that Mycroft is not..actually here. It is his brain malfunction that allows for his brother to be present. So he can put him on silence whenever he pleases.
Mycroft shakes his head and then shrugs. He is only a shade, conjured by Sherlock, what more can he do?
==
As the small group makes its way to seventh floor, where Eurus is located, they see many gaurds in various state of inability.
Some are not yet conscious. Some are, but they have yet to shake the halocinations, and some are just shot in places to be incapacitated, alive but useless.
Smallwood again curses her luck. Sherlock is indeed loads better in leg work than his brother. Mycroft could have not infiltrate and incapacitate all these people alone.
She urges them to hurry.
Watson is on the front, clearing the way, she is at the end making sure they are not ambushed. The parents Holmes are…doing what they do. As long as they are following her lead to get to Eurus and Sherlock, that is ok.
And finally…
They arrive.
At first her heart loses a beat when she sees the cell is empty, but then she moves a couples of steps.
And there they are.
Sherlock has her on her knees and has a gun on her head.
“you arrived on time for the execution”
The Parents inhale simaltonously.
Sherlock pushes her firmly.
“ you call this an execution? Murderer?”
She chuckles, as if she does not understand the situation, that she will die by pushing him.
As if she does not care.
“Sherlock, I never took you for a hypocrite. All of us are”
Damn. She is right isnt she? Smallwood hands are far from clean, Watson was an army doctor for crying out loud and Siger Holmes served decades in the army.and Sherlock? He had just kinda killed Norbury and Magnussen recently.The less said the better.
But Violet too?
“ don’t look like a clueless primate Elizabeth, that does not suit you. Mummy dearest here indeed tried to abort her first pregnancy as she did not wanted to be saddled with a child so young herself.”
Violet murmurs” no..”
“oh yes. You were furious that did not work and Mycroft survived.”
“Eurus, daughter”
She stares at her father, with those emotionless eyes of her “ what you did know too father. Attempted murder is still murder.”
And then she points her finger to herself” me? Victor was not murder, it was your inability to solve an easy puzzle that killed the boy. Those people who were killed in that fire were idiots who did not take precautions, I warned them twice that I wanted to burn that building”
Smallwood hands twitch to hit her. Does she believe what hse says?
“ don’t get your knickers on a twist Elizabeth. Sherlock agrees with me too or he would have protested. As we are the most intelligent people here…’
“ask me”
John speaks for the first time” sherlock, killing her… does not solve anything, or makes it better. She is a just another lunatic”
He ignores violet glaring at the back of his head.
“killing her in front of your parents… gees sherlock. that’s not right”
Sherlock stays silent.
“that’s not you”
Nothing.
“ask me” eurus repeats.
Siger asks “ why?”
“why you call yourself a..murderer while you do not think you murdered those ..peple?” in a steady voice that shows his military background all too much.
She grins.
“are you not going to tell them, dear brother?”
Sherlock clenches his jaw” Mycroft”
And looks their way for their reaction.
Which does not come.
“you knew”
All of them know indeed. Know what he is talking about for once. They knew, how could they not? When you put the pieces together, the last words of Mycrof, Eurus setting their home on fire and the 5 minute meeting made it clear that eurus was behind the scene all the time.
That she planned his death.
Sherlock eyes become unreadable, there is so much hurt, so much betrayal and then, nothing.
Emotionless, like hers.
“you know, and again you come to save ..this.. this monster?”
Violet pleads “ please sherlock, whatever she is, whatever she has done.. she is still my girl, dea..”
Sherlock cut her, sharply.
“she..she KILLED, MURDERED YOUR SON. MURDERED MYC. And you defend her? Why did you, why you hated him that much? He.. he did not deserve that, us. A psyco for a sister, a sociopath for a brother and you.. you ungrateful bastards for parents”
John is in tears “ sherlock, please. I know it hurts, but.. you have not killed anyone in cold blood yet. Forget what she said. Norbury is in coma and magnussen killed himself. Don’t do it to yourself.”
Sherlock faces him, his face full of anger “John one word.. one word about forgiving.. this monster”
“lord no! she is indeed a monster and I agree she deserves what she gets. But please not by your hand. You are better than this. Mycroft was… was a manipulative control-freak bastard but he was OUR manipulative control-freak bastard .”
Sherlock is lowering his hand , until he makes the mistake of saying
“Mycroft would not want that for you..”
Then sherlock raise the gun again.
“well I don’t SEE HIM TRYING TO PRVENT ME!”
They all cry together, this is it.
“do it, brother, I was the one who planned it and I enjoyed every moment of it” says Eurus with pride.
Sherlock is a hair away from becoming a killer.
And just then he freezes.
==
Sherlock hears it, and he freezes.
This can not be.
This is impossible.
“Sherlock, please!”
Time stands still and sherlock freezes.