"... nothing more than a scrap of ordinaryness for you to impress, to dazzle with your cleverness. You'll find another."
Those words, Sherlock and John almost believed them.
"Please, for god's sake, stop it." "Why?"
"Because, unbalanced, even your Lady Bracknell was more convincing."
Sherlock was catching on.
"Ignore everything he just said, he's being kind, he's trying to make it easy for me to kill him.
Which is why this is going to be so much harder." Sherlock pointed the gun at Mycroft's head.
"You said you liked my Lady Bracknell."
"Sherlock, don't." John joined in.
"This is not your decision, Dr. Watson." Mycroft almost interrupted the doctor. John just stared. "Not in the face, though, please. I promised my brain to the Royal Society."
"Where would you suggest?"
"Well!" Mycroft started fixing his tie. "I suppose there is a heart, somewhere inside of me. I don't imagine it's much of a target, but, why don't we try for that?"
John walked up, putting his arms up, in some sort of defense. "I won't allow this."
The brothers stared at John, Sherlock's gaze went back to Mycroft, who was still staring at the doctor.
"This is my fault." He looked back to his younger brother. "Moriarty."
"Moriarty?" Sherlock repeated as a question.
"Her Christmas treat. Five minutes conversation with Jim Moriarty. Five years ago."
"What did they discuss?" Sherlock almost sounded angry.
"Five minutes conversation... Unsupervised." Sherlock lowered the gun. He raised it again, back at Mycroft's chest.
Mycroft knew it was about time. "Goodbye, brother mine." He gave a sad expression, Sherlock's grip tightened.
"No flowers, please. My request."
"Jim Moriarty thought you would make this choice. He was so excited." Said Euros. The screen flicked to Moriarty's face, the screen had a very red hue. "Now here we are," the recording started. "the end of the line." He took a pause between each part. "Holmes killing Holmes."
Sherlock tried to stay strong, his mind started wondering, he started trying to find a way out of this.
"This is where I get off." It flicked back to Euros.
While still in his mind palace, Sherlock subconsciously shot. The sudden loud sound brought him back, though it took a couple seconds.
Mycroft was on the ground, blood coming out of a hole in his chest. His arms were no longer close to his body, his colour slowly fading. His eyes closed.
After Sherlock registered this, he dropped the gun, running to Mycroft's side. Eurus tried speaking of continuing to the next part of this 'puzzle', but Sherlock wouldn't stop yelling. He should've been paying attention, he didn't want this to happen. But it did.
Sherlock stopped yelling. John just stood, trying to hide his emotions, failing miserably.
Sherlock silently stood up, a blank expression written in his face. So many thoughts going through his head.
"Take me to the next room."