"Now Watson, it's not fair that the two of you get to play with his sister, and not your own," the voice over the phone teases.
"Please don't make me hurt Harry, her liver can only take so much," I plead.
"You're not going to hurt her, you're going to make her very happy," Eurus giggles, "You have to tell her."
Sherlock walks away in frustration for a second, and then makes the rapid turn back which has become his habit. "She wants you to tell her…" Then he pauses glaring at the phone.
"Harry knows I'm bisexual. She's about the only person that knows," I tell him.
"Of course, she knows. Why else would you be estranged? She's angry that you were able to hide when she could not. That is not what she wants you to tell you sister," Sherlock says exasperated.
"Tell him Sherlock," Eros says playfully. Sherlock shakes his head.
"Sherlock!" I grit through my teeth, "Rosie!"
"You're supposed to say that we're in a relationship. That you're dating a man," Sherlock mutters.
"Why would you want me to lie?" I yell toward Eros.
"Oh, the only lie is the one you're telling yourself. He makes you tea now. Tea without chemicals added to it. He's never done that for anyone before. Not even family!"
Sherlock slams his eyes shut a bit too fast, fast enough that I realize there is some truth to what she says.
"Sherlock," I plead. What is the point of all of his cleverness if it isn't clever enough to get us out of this?
"It's another soldier day. Your only choice is your sister's emotions, or your daughter's safety," Sherlock says lightly touching my shoulders with each hand.
"Right," I say hoping I at least had the stomach for this. I didn't have enough stomach last time it mattered, and because of that a man died. I open my phone, closing my eyes really tight for a few seconds, then the fingers start dancing across the keys.
"Harry, Sherlock and I have started dating. I wanted you to be the first to know."
My thumb quivers over the send button.
"When she asks you to dinner, you'll say yes," Eurus prompts.
The chirp of his phone causes me to look down. I chuckle, "Brunch."
"Well, even a Holmes can't get it right all the time," Eurus says with a shrug. "I'll need proof of the message."
I try to hold my phone before the picture on Sherlock's phone.
"No, show it to my brother. Who do you think all of this is for?" Eurus asks.
"I didn't ask for this, Eurus!" Sherlock shouts in frustration.
"Oh, brother mine," she says in a perfect imitation of Mycroft, "You never have to ask. Second challenge passed, now for this one brother, you're going to have make your own confession."
"John, can you turn your back to me, please? You have to make it easier for me," Sherlock requests. I raise my eyebrow, but then obey. "I didn't decide what my sexual orientation was for a really long time. I didn't think about it, because I didn't see myself with anyone. Ever. I didn't even have a friend," he points the next comment at the phone in his hand, "apart from the one my little sister drowned, apparently. I didn't like any connection to people, and frankly the whole idea of sex is so messy."
"Seriously?" I say turning around, "You keep human eyes in the microwave, but sex grosses you out!"
"I wasn't talking about the sort of mess which can be cleaned with a shower, although frankly…"
"You were naked at Buckingham palace!" I object again.
"The emotional messy part of me was a bigger deal, and the distraction. I dated once, for a few months. It was
like having a lobotomy. I turned stupid the entire time I was with him."
"You dated a man?" I ask in complete shock.
"It was about a year before I met you. Didn't you ever wonder why everyone assumed you were my date?"
"I just thought it was the product in your hair," I tease causing Sherlock to smile, with almost all of his face.
"I didn't get anything out of it either. I saw that this sort of thing made others happy. I could pretend to be happy. It was empty though. Just like when I tried to make friends at school. Just like all human interaction was for me."
I try to turn around, but the firm grip on my shoulder will not allow me, "It's not empty with you John. Not since the first day. You unlocked the friendship part of me, and allowed me to have that with other people, to a lesser degree. But you are the only person…" Sherlock stops.
"Rosie is waiting, Sher," Eurus reminds him.
"John, I feel things for you I never have for anyone else."
"Don't forget the scary part, Sherlock!" Eurus prompts.
If I didn't know better I would think that sound coming from my friend was a sob. "Please, Eros," he whispers, "I don't want to put that pressure on him."
I reach a hand back offering it to my friend, "Nothing you could ever say would hurt me more than my daughter in danger."
Sherlock takes the hand he offered, giving it a quick squeeze before rushing on "I am way closer to you than anyone else. I've never had romantic feelings for anyone else. I feel like…you're my only chance," he rushes on, "Which is fine, because I didn't expect to ever have a chance. I can get along quite well without any romance."
"And I would just distract you," I says teasing as I turn to face my friend, trying to make what he just shared lighter for him.
"No John, you're a stimulant, not a depressant. Being around you doesn't make me stupid. It doesn't make me miss all the interesting things."
"Showing off has its benefits," Eurus chuckles.
Then Sherlock forgets the point of the exercise, and just keeps talking. "You told me once that Mary made you the person she thought you were. That's what you do to me, John. You saw someone who never existed, who never would have existed. Then you went about making me. You gave me a heart, a soul, you woke me up, John. You made me whole, and that is whether or not you ever decided to date me."
"Yes, well, we passed onto the next challenge quite some time ago, but if you want to keep saying sweet things, and making moon eyes by all means go ahead," Eurus says.
"Just find Rosie, please," Sherlocks says with determination.
She smiles, and picks up the violin and begins playing.
"I don't understand…" John says.
"Shh!" Sherlock says harshly tilting his ear toward the music which is following from the screen.
When the song ends Sherlock says, "Get dressed, fast!"
"Why?" John asks.
"Obvious! We have to go to a crime scene!" he declares.
-0-
I am not unfamiliar with death. The first time I saw it was with my bulldog when I was six years old. Then the dead bodies, and the old women whose hand I held as she died in med school, and then the endless death I saw in war. Besides, this is not the first crime scene I've ever gone to with my friend.
Usually though. I don't have to see the grief. I think both my parents and Harry were relieved when the bulldog died. The old women had not had a single visitor in the three years she'd spent in the nursing home before her trip to hospital. In war you had no time for grief, even if it was you very best friend. The loved ones have usually been kindly removed before Sherlock and I arrive at a crime scene.
The wailing greets us long before we even get up to the flat whose address was apparently encoded in some song about grief that his sister played for him. The girl might not even have reached twenty, and she is bent over a body so fresh my first task is to walk up and check for pulse. It's not there.
"Did you dial 999?" I ask the girl, noticing for the first time that her dress, clearly put on this morning with the intent to go to work, is covered in the victim's blood.
She doesn't answer. "Never mind, Watson!" Sherlock says annoyed examining the body like he always wants to, with a lot of smelling and poking. He used to do more of that when we first met, but he's really begun to bow to social pressure, and respect for the body when there are other people in the room.
"I'm going to call then," I say taking my phone.
"No, you won't," the voice on the phone says.
Well if I'm not needed as a doctor, I can at least be human, "Come on," I say to the girl, "Let me make you some tea. You can tell me your name."
"He's dead," she says.
"I know. Do you know what happened to him?" I ask her since she is clearly not going to let go of the man who I assume is her father.
"He died."
"Knife wound," Sherlock says over his shoulder.
"Do you know who did this to him?" I ask the girl again.
"Nope!" Sherlock says holding up his hand, "It only counts if I do it."
I thought that all the sharing of the first few steps was the worst, but I was wrong. This is so much worse. I hope to God Eurus didn't have anything to do with the murder.
A giggled from the phone, "Oh, no go ahead and ask her."
"He did it!" she says pointing to the dead man.
"It was a suicide?" I ask shocked. I can't imagine this man doing this in front of his daughter. My stomach twists thinking of my own little girl. Even if I wanted to die, I would never put her through this trauma.
"No," she says sounding confused, "There were two of them!"
"She's hysterical, don't listen to her," Sherlock scolds.
"What do you mean, there were two of them?" I ask her.
"My father was stabbed by another version of my father!" she says.
"Sherlock," I say softly knowing what his objection will come before I even get to the question.
"It's never twins, John," he argues.
"Does your sister know that you say that? Because if she does, it would be just like her to pick the only time it actually was twins," I point out. I turn to the girl, "Does your father have siblings?"
"He refused to talk about his family," she sobbed. "I have no idea!"
Sherlock smiles just the quarter of a mouth smile he uses for his work, "Good one Eurus. Twins. Clearly his mob family, including hit man twin brother, were not happy about having him escape. Took them long enough to find them though, her American accent is almost gone," he observes of the blood soaked girl before him.
"It took so long, because no everyone has your brilliant skills of deduction, brother dear," Eurus says.
"I didn't notice any American in her accent," I observe.
"Look how much he msises! It is interesting to me how often you rely on John Watson's intuition over your logic and deductions. He understands almost nothing, but yet you value his contributions as if they mattered," she says. "You are correct, go ahead and call the police. But don't stay until they come. I've got another song for you," she says picking up the violin once again.