"Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment."
Sherlock sighed. "Well allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I'd say this coffin is intended for someone of about 5'7". Could be either a man or a woman so that's not really helpful now is it.
"This is a practical and informed choice. Balance of probability suggests this is for someone who is unmarried or widowed, distant from their close relatives. That much is suggested by the economy of choice. Acquainted with the process of death but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. Also the lining of the coffin-"
"Yes, very good, Sherlock. Or we could just look at the name on the lid," Mycroft remarked, turning the lid around in his arms, revealing the inscription.
Sherlock began to hop over but was stricken as his eyes glazed over the engraved words.
"Only it isn't a name", Mycroft states, apologetically eyeing his younger brother.
"So, it's for somebody who loves somebody", John attempted, oblivious to the silent understanding between the Holmes.
"Or for somebody Sherlock loves," Mycroft surmised.
"Right. Wait… what?" John quizzed.
"Why?!" Sherlock blurted, his frozen body now thawed with rage. "What is the point of this? What is the point of any of this?" Sherlock seethed.
"Why does anyone do anything, Sherlock? Because I'm bored. And I do so love playing with you big brother," Eurus gibed as she twirled around in her chair. "Now please, get on with it," she instructed, waving her gun in her hand.
"I suppose my presence is not wanted for this conversation, but since we don't seem to have much of a choice, I'll just wait over in the corner for you to hash it out," Mycroft broke in, awkwardly shifting to the far side of the room.
"Sherlock. What is going on? Hmm?" John chimed in.
"John, I. This was not the way I wanted to. If I had any idea she would… I… I would have-"
"Sherlock, soldiers. Tell me. Now."
"John there's something I need to say. I… I…" Sherlock began, his hands flung to his head, tearing at his hair as he paced manically around the room.
TICK TOCK TICK TOCK
"Sherlock," John soothed, "I know this is hard. I know this is like your own personal hell, but you have to-"
Sherlock abruptly halted and whipped around, watery, wide eyes meeting John's. "I can't, John. Please," Sherlock begged as he began to once again ambulate about the room.
"Sorry to intrude brother mine but it seems you have no choice in the matter," Mycroft broke in. "Do I need to remind you of the large, wooden coffin in the center of this room?"
John shot a glare at Mycroft before moving over to steady Sherlock.
"Sherlock," John forced him to look, turning him by the shoulder. "As much as I hate to admit it, he's right."
Sherlock's resolve melted in his grip.
"I know," he resigned.
"Ooooo! Here comes the interesting part. I can't wait!" Eurus exclaimed as she leaned in.
"John. There is something I have to say, that I meant to say, always, but never have. While this hardly seems the appropriate location and circumstance under which to do so, I'm afraid I must say it now," he took in a deep breath.
"I love you."
John's hands shook and fingers froze as all the blood in his body shot upward to his face.
"What?" he gritted out.
"John, while I am sure you have a lot of questions and you are most likely experiencing a lot of emotions right now, now is not the time to-"
"How long?
"I'm sorry?"
"How long were you going to wait to tell me?" John seethed.
"John I- as I said I don't think-"
"My brother is right, Dr. Watson," Mycroft stepped out from the corner over to the bickering duo. "While he may make rather questionable decisions pertaining to certain sentimental situations, unfortunately, in this case, he is quite correct. We need to stay focused."
"Focused?!" John fumed. "How am I supposed to stay focused when he has been lying to me… hiding…"
"John, please," Sherlock placated, reaching an arm out.
"No. No no no," John swatted. "You're lying. You're either lying now or this whole time-"
"It is not a lie. What I said was not a lie," Sherlock clipped.
John's constitution crumpled, his eyes filling.
He shouted out in agony as he slammed his closed fist into the coffin.
"John. John! Please!" Sherlock pleaded.
"No. No you don't understand," he punctuated, shoving his finger into Sherlock's face. "This whole time. You have no idea, do you? We could have- Christ!" he pounded the cheap wood.
"I think I do, John. It will be okay. It will all be okay we just need to get out of here."
"Nothing about any of this is okay!" John protested.
"I know. But maybe one day it will be."
The door opened, leading them to the next trial.
"I think it is time to move on, don't you?" Mycroft mused.
John and Sherlock glanced at each other and nodded, straightened their shoulders, and marched onward.
Tbh I don't like this minific, I hate Eurus, and I hate Series 4 (especially this episode). However, I had the idea and I figured if one of you guys likes it then it's worth publishing.