Just wrote this for fun. Thanks for reading!
The elevator door slid open in front of Sherlock, revealing the dark, unfurnished room and the thick glass wall separating him and the prisoner contained on the other side.
His sister, Eurus. Beautiful and dangerous. Younger than him, but always so much smarter. She was kneeling on the floor, directly opposite the elevator, as if she was waiting for Sherlock. Maybe Mycroft told her that Sherlock would visit today. Or maybe she just knew to expect him, as she had done that first day in Sherrinford.
Her long dark hair covered her face like a veil, revealing a crack of pale skin in the middle. Her eyes were fixed in the floor, eyelashes dark against her white face. She didn't move when Sherlock entered. He didn't expect her to.
He stood before the glass and took his violin out of his case, watching his sister closely. Soon, she would pick up her own instrument and join Sherlock in a duet, but until then, she was always so still.
He began playing. Sherlock never played the work of classical musicians any more, not after Eurus had insulted his understanding of Bach. He knew she would hate it. Not that she would tell him so. She hadn't spoken a word in months.
It was a piece he and Eurus had worked on during his last visit. Their duets were always improvised, but Sherlock would write them down when he returned to Baker Street. They were important to him. He felt that the two of them were making progress.
He waited for Eurus to join him. It was usually only a few minutes before she rose gracefully from the floor and retrieved her violin. She couldn't resist the chance to play a duet, after so many years playing alone, staring at the wall, searching for some sort of meaning or beauty in the perfectly played notes.
Sherlock reached the end of their piece, but his sister was still staring at the floor, barely blinking, her hands on her knees. He continued to play. He finished another piece, then another, then another, just waiting for her.
But as Eurus remained motionless, a sharp fear began to spread throughout his body, like ice in his veins .
She wasn't playing. Why wasn't she playing?
Sherlock continued, though his gaze had turned hard. He willed his sister to join him, but she was frozen. He played on, for almost fifteen minutes.
When he came to the end of his piece, he decided he would play a new composition he had been working on. A theme for John. Sherlock had worked tirelessly over the piece, spending hours at a time, growing frustrated when he couldn't get it right, which was far more common than he liked. Capturing John was far more difficult than Sherlock had anticipated, but eventually, he had finished the piece.
He had never played it to anyone, but Eurus was his best critic, and he was happy for her to be the first to hear it.
So he closed his eyes, he took a deep breath, and he played the theme through to the end. He lowered his violin when he had finished, heart beating fast, overcome with the sheer emotion he had poured into composing the theme.
At last, Eurus slowly lifted her head.
'Isn't it strange how people never really say what they're truly thinking?'
Sherlock almost jumped back from the shock of hearing his sister's voice again. A voice that had haunted him day and night since the last time he had heard it, broken and thick with tears. One he never thought he would hear again.
He composed himself quickly though, allowing a calm expression to settle on his face. He didn't want Eurus to know the power she had over him.
But his sister didn't notice, for she hadn't looked at Sherlock when she spoke. Her eyes were wandering around her cell as if it were a place she had never been to before. And then, with an absent-minded roll, they landed directly on his. Sherlock could physically feel the sharp burning of her glare, as if someone had poured boiling water over his bare skin. He flinched, and blinked, as if trying to shake the feeling. Eurus' expression remained blank.
'All those tiny, trivial thoughts, locked up inside our minds, never uttered aloud for fear of them affecting someone else in a way we can't control', she continued in her monotone voice. 'Have you ever told someone something, and known exactly how they would react?'
'Of course not', Sherlock replied calmly.
Eurus smirked. 'Of course not. Sherlock Holmes doesn't understand human emotion. At least not like other people do. But it's not just you, is it? Think about how many people have gone their whole lives without saying that one thing they so desperately wanted to say. They knew it would change everything, probably for the worse, so they stayed silent. They pretended like nothing was wrong. And then their secrets were buried with them'.
Sherlock wanted to ask his sister why she was telling him this. She hadn't spoken in months, and suddenly, here she was, imprisoning him under her unbroken stare. Talking to him. But asking her why would interrupt her. Sherlock had to let her do this in her own way. Whatever, she wanted to say, however long it took, he just had to listen.
She stood up slowly. 'People are so boring. How do you ever get anything done? Too busy avoiding the subject. But that's the trouble with walking on eggshells. Sooner or later, one has to break. And then everything is different. So why do you wait? The time comes for everyone, so what good is postponing it?'
Sherlock was finding it difficult to read his sister, as he always did. It was so frustrating. She could know anything about him, in fine detail, just by looking at him, or by the tone of his voice. But he struggled to know her.
He decided he would play along. He didn't know why she was saying these things, but if he wanted to find out, he had to keep listening. One wrong move to upset her and she would either snap or simply stop talking. Her words were a gift, and she knew it. She knew she had Sherlock in the palm of her hand, and he was hanging off her every word.
It's funny how Eurus had mentioned walking on eggshells. That's how he felt every time he saw her.
'Can't their time be avoided?' Sherlock asked, inviting her to explain herself further. 'Can't they continue on, as the always have done?'
Eurus nods slowly. 'It is possible, but it only causes misery. Like you are miserable, now'.
This caused Sherlock to stop in his tracks. Just as he thought he was the one to play along with Eurus, it was her who was playing with him.
'Why do you say that?' Sherlock almost blurted out. Mentally, he kicked himself for it. He was giving her control, but he couldn't help it.
'You came here, to Sherrinford, you played my game, you had me brought back here. For me, nothing changed. I still ended up back on this god-forsaken island. But for you, you wanted something. You thought it was the perfect time. But you let it slip through your fingers. So careless of you'.
Sherlock was beginning to grow irritated with his sister. She was tormenting him for fun. And she showed no sign of stopping.
'You want to love, Sherlock. At least, you want your love to be known. That's what this all boils down to. Love. And sex'.
'What does sex have to do with it?'
'All of us are the same. You, and me, and our brother. We're not asexual. Sex just isn't something we even consider. I've been kept in a cell all my life. Mycroft doesn't connect to people emotionally, and to him, sex can't be meaningless. So he's never been interested. And then there's you. For you, it's just something that gets in the way. Especially after you tried it'.
'What?'
'You had sex. With Irene Adler'.
'How do you know about Irene Adler?'
'Sherlock, I know everything', she said, her voice patronising. Sherlock feared she was telling the truth.
'It didn't mean anything', he said through gritted teeth.
'Oh, but it did!' she said brightly, torturing him further. 'You couldn't get her out of your head for months. And it got in the way. And you regretted it. You still do now, don't you? It wasn't fun, it wasn't out of love, it wasn't even an experiment. And Ms Adler's gay, she didn't want to have sex with you either, she only did it to mess with you. So why did you do it?'
'The same reason you did. You had sex'.
'Yes, I did. Many times actually. Different nurses, a couple I killed, the rest never came back. They told me one of them killed themselves. Saved me the job, I suppose. There was the governor, the one from a few years ago. She came back for more, I suppose I must have really shaken her up. Then there was Jim Moriarty'.
Sherlock froze at the mention of his name. Him, the Napoleon of crime, the man everything came back to. Him, who had been as present in death as in life. Him. And Eurus.
'Please tell me you're joking' Sherlock shook his head. He almost laughed, at the ridiculousness of it.
'Sherlock, I don't make jokes', she snapped.
Sherlock flinched at the sudden harshness of her voice. He quickly decided to try a different approach.
'How?'
Eurus began to pace slowly along the length of the glass, her eyes wandering her cell again. 'He visited me more than once, you know. Having the glass removed was never a problem. I asked, and I got it. They gave me Jim whenever I wanted him'.
'How many times did you see him?'
'We're getting off track', she said harshly, stopping her pacing and turning back to Sherlock, those burning eyes of hers trapping him once again. 'Why did you have sex? You can't expect me to believe you did it because you were bored, like I did? No. We Holmes' are the same, but we're also so different that we might not even be related at all. I already know why you had sex with the Woman. Because you wanted to forget your feelings for the one person you actually wanted to have sex with'.
'Once again, Eurus, I have no idea what you're talking about'.
'Don't lie to me, brother. Oh, look, we've come full circle. So let's go back to my first question. Why won't you say what you're truly thinking? Because you're afraid?'
'I'm not afraid'.
'You are afraid of loving John Watson. You're afraid that it will ruin your friendship, that things can never be the same between you if he knew. You're afraid of being rejected. You're afraid of yourself, because you have never felt this way about anyone before and you never thought it was possible. You didn't think it was possible for you to fall in love. You, Sherlock, who has always struggled to feel human. And now you have felt what it's like, you are afraid. You're a scared little boy, brother. I think it's time for you to grow up'.
Eurus didn't scowl, or smirk, or laugh. She wasn't patronising, or condescending, or cruel. She just said it, in that uninterested way of hers. And suddenly Sherlock realised that his sister was not trying to hurt him. She was trying to help him. She was forcing him to listen to the truth he had buried deep inside him for so long.
Helping, not hurting. He would not be afraid of her now. No more walking on eggshells. Now, he needed to be honest.
'You've known all this time' he said, fighting to keep his voice even. 'So why have you waited until now to tell me this?'
'Because now is the right time. I've been watching you so closely, every time you've visited me. I watch your eyes, and your face, and your movements. I can read people like a book, brother. I can know what they're thinking. It's one of my greatest gifts, and one of my greatest burdens. It's been so dull to watch how little progress you've made since our game'.
'But I've been happy, sister. Things have been well, I haven't wanted them to change'.
'Things are back to normal in your life, I know. You rebuilt you flat after I burned it down. You're working on cases again. You're more open with those you care about, because you stopped taking them for granted as soon as you knew what it felt like to be on the verge of losing them. You and John are closer than ever. But you want more from him, and you're afraid to ask for it. So you carry on, like nothing has changed. But I suppose things haven't really changed, have they? You've loved him for so long, Sherlock, way before we played my game. I've always seen it. Since the moment you came here, I've seen it'.
'Then why did you do that to Molly? Why did you make her tell me she loved me?'
'To confuse you, of course. And once again, I was right. You do love her. Just not in the way she wants you to'. She smirked as she reflected on the memory. 'I had originally intended to use Dr Hooper to show me how far you would go to protect your friends. Would you ruin them in order to save them? But when I knew about your feelings for John, it became so much more interesting!'
Sherlock shook his head. 'Ill always be angry at you for that', he muttered bitterly. 'I thought she might never forgive me, after that phone call'.
'But I was your excuse. You told her about me'.
'Of course I told her about you!' Sherlock argued. 'It was your fault I hurt her. You were the reason I had to apologise to her'.
Eurus shook her head. 'That didn't mean anything. If you really wanted to apologise to Molly Hooper, you should have apologised for loving someone else. I didn't do anything. I didn't put a single explosive in that woman's house, remember?'
'You made me hurt her, Eurus. You could have ruined everything'.
'Molly Hooper is one of those people who feels she doesn't matter to anybody. She's so fragile. But that's why I had to include her in our little game. She matters more than she knows. You weren't lying, in that call. But you haven't had the courage to tell her how you really feel. Why you can't love her like she loves you'.
Sherlock didn't respond. Something else had caught his attention, drifting through his mind and appearing before his eyes as if the thought was physically there in the room. He thought about Eurus' game. The Final Problem. He thought about how Eurus had used Molly as an object for Sherlock to break. About how she had made him choose between his Mycroft and John, knowing he would choose to kill their brother. Then made him solve her riddle in order to convince her to help save John.
It was as if it was all for John. As if the whole time, she was pushing him closer to him.
Of course, it couldn't have been. Eurus made them play for her benefit, so Sherlock could save her. But still, it was interesting how they overlapped.
Sherlock looked back into Eurus' eyes, and immediately regretted it. They were so bright with fascination. Sherlock could see the fire in them. She smiled.
'It's amazing, isn't it? It's like we're still playing my little game. I thought it was over, when you solved my riddle, but, no! It was such a good day. I never could have imagined we'd still be playing'.
'So it would seem, sister', Sherlock said bitterly.
'Oh, don't give me that face', Eurus said, as if she was speaking to a toddler throwing a tantrum. She tilted her head to one side, eyes still not leaving Sherlock's. 'I had so much fun playing my game. Do you know what my favourite part was?'
He considered this for a moment, as vivid memories of his first day at Sherrinford flashed before his eyes like a film. Each stage of the game was locked in his mind palace, even though he wanted more than anything to forget them. There was one particular stage of the game that haunted him the most, the one that could have changed everything - or ended his life. It was Eurus' grand finale before they returned to the mainland, to Musgrave Hall. It was her biggest challenge, one she knew would destroy Sherlock forever.
'It was making me choose between Mycroft and John', he answered.
'Wrong!' Eurus shouted gleefully. 'The correct answer was: getting inside the head of Dr John Watson. Now that is one emotional wreck of a man. I put hours of time in with him. It was worth it in the end, he was very surprised when I revealed myself. It was a shame I had to tell him who I really was, I rather liked playing dress-up. But, in all that time I spent with him, I got all the information I needed within the first fifteen minutes'. Her lips twisted into a smirk. 'He loves you'.
'And how did you deduce that?' Sherlock retorted, believing his sister to be lying to him.
But there was no hint of a smile from Eurus. In fact, there was no sign of anything.
Which must have meant she was telling the truth.
Sherlock's heart began to speed up, as it always did on those rare occasions he felt that he wasn't in control. It made him feel sick.
'Well, I was his therapist', she replied simply.
'But John saw you because he lost Mary', he pointed out. 'It wasn't about me'.
'Yes, I had to listen to him talk about Mary, it was so dull. But we always came round to you. I didn't even have to steer the conversation. It was so easy! But that wasn't the only clue, not that I needed another one. John turned me down, during the texting. He said we shouldn't speak anymore. Such a shame. He had feelings for someone else'.
'Of course he did! He was married!'
'No, not his wife. You. I knew he was married, or rather, the woman on the bus knew. Why would John have an affair with someone just to tell them he had feelings for his wife? That's already so obvious, so he wouldn't have told me at all if he intended to leave me because of Mary. No. He had feelings for someone else. Now, I already knew he loved you, but my curiosity got the better of me. I wanted to make him admit it. So I asked him'.
'What? And he told you, just like that?'
'Not quite. But I think I'll keep that a little secret between me and Dr Watson. I wouldn't want to embarrass him'.
Sherlock was on the verge of tears, but he blinked them away fiercely. John? Loving him? It was the thing he had dreamed about since he had faked his own death, after he left London and his heart ached from missing John. He dreamed of him, and the day they would reunite. He knew they could never truly be together, and so he was happy when John found Mary, when they got married and Rosie was born. Because John was happy, and to see John happy was what Sherlock wanted more than anything, even if it hurt him in a way he had never hurt before. So he had always pushed those feelings to the back of his mind, hoping they would never resurface.
But now, the thought that maybe someday they could be together was too much for Sherlock to process. Eurus was destroying him, but she was also giving him the courage to confront himself.
'Why are you telling me this, Eurus?'
'The new theme. You wrote it for him, didn't you?'
'Yes', he replied, his voice cracking. Helping, not hurting, he reminded himself. He breathed deeply, in and out. He wouldn't break in front of Eurus.
'Then it's the right time. Trust me, brother. I know I haven't given you reason to before, but believe I'm telling you this for a reason. I don't want to hurt you, Sherlock. That would have no purpose'.
'So your game was about John and I? You orchestrated it so that I would choose him, to prove you were right?'
Eurus shook her head. 'No, Sherlock. The game was about me. It's hard not to be selfish when you've spent your whole life alone. I needed you to come and find me. And I could only do that with Mycroft and John out of the way'. She looked at the floor absently. Her voice turned dark. 'I was going to let him drown'.
The words sent a shiver down Sherlock's spine as he remembered John, alone at the bottom of a well, knowing any moment he could be swallowed by the black water. It had taken Sherlock everything he had to keep himself together in that moment. He had tried to focus on Eurus' song, but his fear of losing John continued to cloud his vision.
He had truly thought he was going to lose his love to his two worst fears. Water. And Eurus.
'But you came for me anyway, even when I was brought back here', she continued, unaffected. 'Allowing them to live didn't change that. It was possible for you to love all of us. It was something that hadn't occurred to me'.
Her monotone voice faltered at the last sentence. Sherlock understood, because it was the one thing he truly understood about his sister. The woman who knew everything was the woman who couldn't understand love. Eurus, who was always correct, was wrong about the thing that would seem so obvious to everybody except her.
Emotions were always Eurus' biggest weakness, like Sherlock. But when Sherlock cursed himself for allowing his feelings to get in the way of his logic, Eurus struggled to feel any emotion at all.
'So this is my way of repaying you', she said.
'But you're not sorry, are you? You're not sorry for killing those people, or for hurting Molly, or for endangering John. You're not sorry for trying to make me murder our brother'.
'Oh, Sherlock, I could never be sorry', she said innocently. 'It was just a little experiment, really'.
Sherlock didn't answer, but he thought that he understood. His sister couldn't feel regret for her actions. She couldn't feel anything. That had been the problem all along. And she couldn't feel sorry that she had hurt so many with her games, because she couldn't understand the emotional implications. She knew what they were feeling, of course, but she had never known those feelings for herself. Years spent in an isolated cell and the sharp intelligence of her own brilliant mind had stolen her chance to feel like a real person. So how could she be sorry?
What he really wanted from his sister, if she wanted to repay him, was some sign of remorse. But there was nothing.
'I said I'd bring you home. I can't, can I?'
Eurus shook her head. A look of sadness flashed through her eyes, but it was gone in a second, replaced by that endlessly curious glare.
'I lied before, when I said nothing had changed. This is where I belong, Sherlock, that's one thing I am absolutely sure of. But I've changed, myself. You brought me closer. You can't bring me home, I don't have one. But you brought me closer'.
It was all he had wanted, since they were reunited in Sherrinford, since she had tried to ruin him. Because, despite everything, Eurus was his sister, and he loved her anyway. They were family, and they were connected, even when she never existed in his mind, when he had blocked her out completely. He'd felt so guilty after having promised to save her, to bring her home, then realising it was a promise he would have to break. But hearing her voice again had erased some of that guilt. A part of him would always be afraid of her, would be angry at her, would hate her. But he wanted, no, needed, to know that she had landed, that she wasn't so lost anymore.
Sherlock smiled. 'Are you well, sister?'
The faintest smile brushed across her lips, and Sherlock could see it so clearly, so easily, it was as if she was grinning.
'I've been feeling better'.
Her eyes finally left his, and Sherlock felt a huge weight being lifted from him as he was freed from her glare. She turned away, and picked up her violin from the bed. She walked forward, until they were each three feet away from the glass. Sherlock scanned the glass with his eyes every time he stepped out of the elevator on his visits to Eurus' cell, just to be sure it was really there. He had never been so shaken as he was the moment his sister's ice cold fingers interlocked with his, on the day of her sinister game. Even now, he was too afraid to step beyond the three foot line, though he was sure there was a thick pane of glass between them.
Eurus flipped her long, dark hair over one shoulder and lifted her violin. She began to play.
It was as if nothing had happened. Sherlock joined his sister in a duet, as he always did, though this time, he feared this beautiful music was the sound of her retreating into silence once again. Maybe this time, she would never return.