"God in heaven…" Molly covered her mouth with a handkerchief.

"I am afraid the smell will only be worse on the inside."

"Who runs this facility?" she couldn't help but ask her brother in-law.

"I am afraid I did," Mycroft answered, quietly, humble and ashamed. "I was not personally aware of the goings on, not until I paid a visit at the insistence of my brother. It was Sherlock who discovered the depravity of the staff."

"What ties do you have to such a place?" Molly asked, horrified.

Mycroft looked to his new sister in-law, steady, quite accepting of the truth of his words: "My sister is an inmate."

"How horrible…" Molly looked at the stark building, the cold, imposing nature of the entrance, the guest entrance, at that. Some gothic architecture had been attempted, but it only succeeded in creating an abysmally dark and depressing appearance.

"I confess when I was given charge of her, I was too young to understand the awful nature of her…mental faculties, and my had thought that placing her here would be best for her. Decisions had been made far before I had been given charge of her, choices that I never would have allowed to be made on her behalf. I left her here, and I did not visit. Not once." He bowed his head. "I did write, but heaven knows if anyone ever delivered the letters to her. I was assured they were, but then I had also been assured this place was a safe place for her."

"She needn't be afraid any longer," Molly added gently. "She's going somewhere truly safe, somewhere much better for her."

Mycroft nodded slowly, attempting a smile. In truth, he was overcome. When word had reached him of just how dreadful the conditions at the Ravensbrook Mental Asylum were, he was shocked. He should have kept a better eye on things. He should have made personal visits, he should have…

He wrote. He wrote often to his sister. Every week, in fact. Letters were more accessible to him than the day-trip it took to reach the far end of England. She was in possession of the mental faculties to use pencil and paper, and was allowed to write back. He wished she had told him. He knew she was clever enough to write in code, she could have sent him a message, should have.

"Mycroft," Molly touched his arm, bringing him back to the present.

"I wish Sherlock had come," Mycroft confessed.

"What makes you think I haven't?" Sherlock appeared, climbing down from beside the driver. He threw off the inverness cloak and peeled off the mustache.

Mycroft leaned against his walking stick, studying his brother for a moment. "If Doctor Watson wishes to climb out of the boot, he may do so at his leisure."

A long moment passed, then, a 'thump-thump-thump' from the trunk on the back of the carriage could be heard. Shocked, the footman stepped down, unlatching the clasp.

"God's sake, Holmes," Watson rasped. "I may have suffocated in there!"

"You wouldn't have, I drilled holes in the sides." Reassured the younger Holmes.

"Not if my back was pressed against them you stupid-"

"Gentlemen," Molly's quiet voice broke through the argument. "There is a more pressing matter at hand."

"Quite right," Mycroft stepped forward and offered his arm to Molly. "Molly and I shall go in together. Doctor Watson, I assume you and my brother have already come up with some plan, for God knows what reason?"

"Right," John nodded, expression serious again.

"What about the others?" Molly asked.

"Mycroft has already put into place several new advisors for the time being, until a better, less imposing place can be acquired for the rest of the Ravensbrook inmates," Sherlock replied. Molly nodded, worries allayed for the time being.

"I could not in good conscience remove my sister when I know too well the rest of the patients would not receive the same care," Mycroft added. "They will spend the remainder of their lives in a much better, cleaner environment than this."

"So many have been left by families to be forgotten," Molly said as they headed towards the front doors. "How will they be contacted?"

"There is an investigation going on in the filing room as we speak. Also a good deal many more doctors will be used to evaluate just who will require to be retained in an asylum, and which simply have been fostered off due to infirmity or unwanted pregnancy."

"If I could be of any help…" Molly began slowly. "I know I am a pathologist, but I should think that I could be of some use, evaluating the mental abilities of patients."

"It would be welcome, if, having stepped inside, you find you are not too disturbed by them. Doctor Watson has already come once and offered his help. I am sure he would appreciate your assistance." At the front doors, they paused, and Mycroft turned to his sister in-law once more. "You must prepare yourself. Yes, new staff has been put into place, but conditions are still very bad as of now. Not enough people to help clean and care for the inmates, to properly bathe them…" he stopped, shaking his head. "I am responsible for this place, and I am ashamed, my dear. Quite ashamed."

"Let's fetch your sister." That was all Molly said, but she covered his hand with hers, squeezing gently.

Molly's strength was always something to marvel at. She did not allow herself to be swayed by anything shocking, at least, not for long. As they stepped through the front, two guards stepped behind them, shutting the heavy doors behind them. She shut her eyes, gathering herself. The stench of dirty linens was still pungent, though there was at lease the comforting sight of a maid scrubbing the walls with lye. It was a start, at least.

Molly allowed the guards to look through her bag and the folds of her dress, Mycroft drew line when they asked to examine her bustle and underthings.

"Gentlemen, this is a hospital for the infirm, not a prison." Mycroft reminded them, though he turned out his coat pockets and held out his cane for examination. The foyer was cavernous and cold.

The receptionist sat like a queen at her desk, hair pulled back in a harsh bun.

"Mrs. Caldwell," Mycroft greeted the woman. "How are the patients today?"

"Your sister is much the same," the woman answered. "The others-"

A piercing shriek broke through the stillness, echoing. It set off a chain-reaction through the building. Molly craned her neck, looking for the source. An eerie laugh went up following the shrieks, and Molly felt herself shiver before she could stop herself.

"Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Caldwell rounded the desk, moving to stand beside her. "It's in some of their natures to simply…make noise. They don't mean any harm by it. It's all they've known, when a body comes into this place, to simply start yelling." She turned then to Mycroft. "Has there been any word on a suitable place for them?"

"Yes," Mycroft nodded. "There is a fine estate in Yorkshire, the east, that is-"

"Yorkshire! My land…rather expensive neighborhood…is it not?"

"The estate is being donated, rather an isolated place. But the house is sound, plumbing is fairly recent. The repairs to the stable and yard, I should imagine, can be done well before winter. It is open and pleasant, I shall have my secretary deliver the plans to you personally. He will also be making rounds, to see that the new standards are being upheld to the letter."

"Quite right too," Mrs. Caldwell agreed. "If you're sending the right staff, then there shouldn't be anything for him to report to you."

"How many inmates do you have?" asked Molly.

"Lawks," Mrs. Caldwell looked heavenward a moment. "Near one hundred I should say. We're over-crowded, and most have been placed here without any real problems. Mad from infection, some born deformed, but sound otherwise, others are just hard up and looking for a place to die, life not been kind to them…you know my meaning, I think, ladies that weren't given any other choice you see."

"Yes," Molly nodded. "What can we do now? How can we help?"

"For now, you can help by fetching your sister and bringing her home where she'll be safe and looked after." She studied Molly, looked at the young woman who couldn't seem to stop staring at the building around her. "You a nurse, then?"

"I am a pathologist, I work at St. Barts, in London," Molly said, finally looking at Mrs. Caldwell.

"Then you know the sorry state this place is in," Mrs. Caldwell answered. "Don't have to tell you I'm as ashamed as Lord Holmes," she nodded to the gentleman. "Files hidden off, or not even writ, the filth of this place, the state of the patients…it's a mess."

"But we are doing something about it now," Mycroft added, quiet.

"Yes we are, sir," the older woman nodded firmly. "Doctors coming?"

"Yes, hand-picked by myself personally, there will be six to start later today, and a unit of eighteen nurses to assist. Once Miss Holmes is settled, my sister in-law," he nodded to Molly, "Will accompany another, Doctor Watson, and they will assist where necessary for the move."

"Could use all the help we can get," Mrs. Caldwell answered. "You guarantee the twenty-four today, the two char girls I have upstairs and I can get to work scrubbing this place down. We've been up to our ears in linens, trying to keep it all clean."

"You're doing a marvelous job, please convey my thanks to the young ladies for their assistance."

"It's been rough, I won't say it hasn't," Mrs. Caldwell answered. "Them not being trained in anything, the nuns of St. Mary's up the road have been good to us, taking the linens and washing them for us, helping with meals too. Well, come along, I'll take you upstairs now, Doctor Grace," she motioned for a young man (all of five-and-twenty). He stepped out of the butler's pantry off the foyer. "Will you mind the front desk for me? I'm to take Lord Holmes upstairs, mind no one gives you cheek."

"I'll behave myself, Mrs. Caldwell," Doctor Grace smiled, accepting the older woman's mothering pat on the shoulder before he took the chair at the desk.

"He's a good man, that Doctor Grace," Mrs. Caldwell said as they went up the stairs. "You chose him to head this place yourself, come to think of it your Lordship."

"He is young, but is eager to help, and not so far along in his years that he won't listen to the wisdom of an older one."

"No indeed. Looks beyond the infirmity, rare gift in a doctor, beg your pardon ma'am," Mrs. Caldwell looked at Molly who only shook her head, chuckling in amusement.

"No, I quite agree."

Down the corridor, most of the doors shut and locked, Mrs. Caldwell led them to the end of the hall.

"We put her in here, as you requested, so she could see who comes and who goes."

"Good," Mycroft nodded. He fiddled with his hat in his hands.

"She doesn't speak, but she lets us look after her."

"Then why do you need the jacket?" Mycroft asked.

Mrs. Caldwell looked at him, then shifted the straight jacket on her arm. "It's a regulation," again she looked heavenward. "Heard that word enough in my lifetime, but it's one of the few that I hold to. With the patients I don't know, that I can't anticipate, sometimes, it's a precaution."

"Very well," Mycroft accepted her answer, then paused, hand on the key in the lock. "But you will please leave it outside of the room."

Mrs. Caldwell studied him, nodded after a long moment and rolled it up under her arm. "I'll stay out here then, if you need me."

"Thank you," Mycroft then looked to Molly. "If you wish to remain-"

"I'm coming in with you," Molly said. "She might need help to gather her things."

Taking a breath, Mycroft shut his eyes. Quietly, he turned the key, and unlocked the door.

"Eurus?" He stepped into the room, still holding onto his hat. "It's your brother, Mycroft."

Molly stood on tip-toe to try and look over his shoulder, then leaned over to instead peer around him.

A willowy-thin woman with black hair sat on a chair by the window. She was pale, though when the door had opened, she had turned to look, her eyes were sharp and clear. It was alarming, those eyes.

She isn't dull thought Molly.

"I have brought your sister in-law, Molly. I wrote to you about her in my last letter. She and I have come to bring you to your new home."

"She won't answer you," Mrs. Caldwell called from the doorway.

"It's still common courtesy to make introductions," Mycroft answered.

Molly, who still had said nothing, stepped around Mycroft. "May I come in, Eurus?"

Eurus remained silent, but she looked at Molly, then a quick glance around the room as if to say 'come in'.

"Thank you," Molly said in answer. "Do you have a coat to put on? The air is quite cool."

Eurus still said nothing, keeping unnaturally still.

"I won't put you in the coat that Mrs. Caldwell has," Molly promised. "I did bring a coat for you, just in case," She unfolded it from her arm, and shaking it out a little, showed the length of the sleeves, and the buttons down the front.

Eurus stood then, and held out her arms. Molly, unsettled somewhat, put on a smile, then helped Eurus into the coat. The silence was not what disturbed Molly. The fact that they all knew very well that Eurus was not an imbecile, but was behaving like a well-trained child, was what made them uneasy.

"She isn't a fighter," Mrs. Caldwell said. "Leastwise not that I can tell."

"No," Mycroft found he had to clear his throat, his voice felt hoarse as he looked at his sister. "No, but I think they tried to break her."

"Very nearly succeeded," Mrs. Caldwell said. "But she's got some strength in her yet. She'll be all right."

"Yes you will be," Molly said to Eurus.

Eurus, who had been staring at the wall, blinked. She turned to look at Molly, her expression softening.

"You're going to be all right," Molly assured her again. She smoothed down the collar, and then the cuffs of Eurus' coat. "You're safe with us now."

Downstairs, Eurus allowed the guards to flank her, bringing her to the waiting carriage. Molly stayed close by, while Mycroft sorted out the paperwork.

"There's been an appalling lack of consistency in the filing department," Mycroft said. "Has Miss Holmes file been found yet?"

"Those seem to be one of the few complete paper trails we can follow," Doctor Grace answered him. "I have the rest of her file here. It took us some time to find it in the old manager's office. I think we have everything there for you, but if we come across anything else, I'll wire you straight away."

"Thank you."

West Sussex, Hart Castle

"There, that's better," Molly sat opposite Eurus.

Eurus made no qualms about being fed. She'd sat for a good half-hour, not touching her food until Molly sat down and took up the bowl and spoon for her.

"She's testing us," the nurse, Ellen Poole, said. She was a sturdily built woman, with stern features. Molly took an instant liking to her though, when Ellen gently helped Eurus out of her coat and sat her down to brush her hair. Now, Ellen had her arms folded across her chest.

"You ought to be ashamed, making your sister in-law feed you like a baby," Ellen said.

Eurus merely opened her mouth again for the spoon, her eyes twinkled in the lamplight.

"I know you're testing me," Molly said, lifting the spoon, and then wiping Eurus' chin. "I'll humor you today, but you must eat your meals. Do you promise to?"

Eurus didn't speak, she let her eyes go dull again.

"Eurus,"

"She's testing you," Ellen repeated, gentler this time. "It's no wonder either, all that she's been through. I'll finish here, you ought to be having your supper Mrs. Holmes."

"Yes," Molly stood with a small sigh. She removed the napkin from her lap. "Finish your soup, Eurus, please?"

Eurus flicked her gaze up at Molly again, the dullness quite gone. She studied her a moment, then let her head drop slightly.

"There!" Ellen smiled brightly. "You go on downstairs, I'll see she get's a good warm bath and is settled in for the night."

"Thank you, Ellen, goodnight Eurus."

Downstairs…

"It isn't the family home, so she'll be quite comfortable here. She'll have a set of rooms, and round the clock care."

"She'll still be isolated," Sherlock insisted.

"For God's sake, Sherlock, our sister is mentally unbalanced!" Mycroft burst out. He sighed heavily. "I know you've read her file, Sherlock."

"I've read some of it."

"Then perhaps you should read all of it," Mycroft sat down, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Where is Molly?"

"Upstairs, helping that nurse feed our sister."

"Her name is Ellen Poole, and she is from that church near Ravensbrook."

"What is going to happen at that place?" Sherlock asked, thumbing through the file on Mycroft's desk.

"Once it is emptied of its patients, I will see that it is taken down."

"Out of sight, out of mind, brother?" Sherlock asked.

"Please, don't read that in my presence," Mycroft said, seeing Sherlock begin to sit down with the folder.

Sherlock looked up, in some surprise, then back at the papers in his hands. "You do want me to read them."

"Yes, and I ask that you not do so here. Take them upstairs," Mycroft seemed to fold into himself as he looked at the paperwork. Shame and regret crossed over his features. "Please, Sherlock. I cannot bear to have you hate me, at least not from such a close distance."

"I don't hate you," Sherlock said quietly. Mycroft looked up sharply. "I can't hate you, brother. This," he gestured to the folder. "Most of these decisions were made well before you were given charge of her, by relatives who had no idea what to do with her."

"They removed her uterus," Mycroft blurted out.

A gasp from the opposite side of the room made them both turn. Molly stood there, she glanced behind, seeing the hall was empty, she quickly shut the door after her. She went to stand beside Sherlock, who wordlessly took her hand.

"It was when she was a teenager, thirteen or fourteen, I think," he bowed his head.

"Did mother and father know of this?" Sherlock asked finally.

"Of course they did!" Mycroft snapped. "They and our beloved Uncle Rudolph put her in that wretched place! I have father's letter assuring Uncle Rudolph of his approval of the surgery."

"Uncle Rudolph?" Molly asked. She was not familiar with that relative.

"We don't speak of him," Sherlock answered.

"And with good reason," Mycroft added. "Eurus is ill, she first showed signs of a disturbed psyche as a child. I found her…trying to cut herself open. She wanted to see what muscles looked like. She didn't understand what feelings were, she couldn't discern the difference in them."

The fire crackled in the hearth, a log settled, sending up a shower of sparks. Sherlock and Molly remained silent for a time, letting Mycroft's words sink in.

"How old were you?" Molly asked. "How old was she?"

"I was nine, Eurus was five," he was lost in that awful memory.

Sherlock could not help but picture the scene: of his brother, the eldest, and terribly protective, discovering their baby sister harming herself and not seeing the trouble of it.

"What did your parents do?" Molly asked, quiet and horrified.

Mycroft wiped his red eyes, smiling bitterly. "Oh…father had a stern talking to with her about not playing with knives. It wasn't until she tried to burn the house down that anything was done for her."

"Not even her killing Victor Trevor moved them to help her," Sherlock spoke up, his voice hollow and hoarse. Molly squeezed his hand. The loss of his childhood friend still plagued him. It was only recently that he had discovered how the young Master Trevor had met his untimely end. The sting was still fresh, no matter how long ago the death was.

"I have heard," Molly began softly. "I have heard that doctors in the psych wards believe that the removal of a woman's reproductive organs is meant to 'calm them'."

"Obviously it did not," Sherlock answered. "It's a ridiculous theory with no actual proof. Watson has discussed at length the problems in mental asylums. The privately owned ones are the worst."

"True enough. Anyone who wants to earn a shilling can promise a house for the disturbed, the same as anyone can open up their home with the promise to look after babies." Molly agreed. "But the trauma she's displaying is clearly quite bad."

"That would be the other surgery," Mycroft said. He nodded to the paperwork. "Last year, I received a letter from the doctors at Ravensbrook. It was from that Doctor Levinson whom Uncle Rudolph had first placed Eurus under. He wrote and said they had a Swiss surgeon, a Doctor Gottlieb Burckhardt, who specialized in what is called a 'psychosurgery'."

"You put a stop to it, I should think!" Sherlock said, slamming the folder down. Molly could only stare. The word was foreign to her. It was too dreadful to contemplate. Brains simply were not operated on, there was too much at stake to risk damaging the delicate organ.

Mycroft folded his hands over the desk, looking at his brother. "The letter was sent well after the surgery. They had done it without consent, without notifying me. 'A favor for a man with good intentions'. Apparently, this Burckhardt was a personal friend of Doctor Levinson. Burckhardt is in need of patients for his butchery. When the surgery was deemed unsuccessful, as in, Eurus did not display signs of relief of her symptoms, they burned the paperwork, having no findings to report. Everything was hushed up. I have only recently heard he has continued these awful operations, so that he may present his findings to the medical conference next year, in Berlin." He looked at the other two. "I have been keeping tabs on his whereabouts. As he is not an English citizen, I cannot have him arrested, but I can see that his findings are delayed, perhaps indefinitely, if possible."

"But why in England? Why Ravensbrook?" Molly asked.

"Why not any other sanitarium?" Mycroft shrugged. "He knew Levinson at Ravensbrook, and Eurus condition fit the bill he was looking for: paranoid delusions, aggression, and violence. However when Burckhardt realized Eurus was related to someone in the government, he destroyed any evidence he could find to protect himself."

"How did you find out about all this?" Sherlock asked. "The papers were burned."

"You'll find that everything on Eurus' now undocumented surgery have been written down on a different type of paper," Mycroft nodded to the folder. "Levinson's apprentice, Doctor Grace, had been keeping a diary on the goings on at Ravensbrook. He had been unable to prevent the surgery, but he has acted admirably to rectify what he could not prevent." Mycroft said. "He is young, but you see why I have kept him at Ravensbrook. I traveled straight away, as soon as I had heard this, but they would not allow me upstairs to her, personal safety and all that damn foolish nonsense-" he glanced at Molly. "I beg your pardon."

"Is that why she can't speak? Because the surgeon-"

"He is not a surgeon!" Mycroft answered, venomous. "He's a bloody butcher and a cad." He took a breath, calming himself. "From what Doctor Grace has told me, Eurus is quieter than she was. She has always been very clever with words. She sees people and can predict where they will be in the next day. Had she been a man, had she not been as unbalanced as she was, I might have employed her in the government," he shook his head. "She is…she was brilliant. I believe she still is in some ways. Her genius is…unhinged, if you will. It always has been. The two surgeries forced on her have clearly affected her. She is quieter." He sighed heavily. "She is resigned."