"Fine!" Siger Holmes snapped at his much younger half-sister. "If you want her so badly, take her! But I warn you, Emma, no good will come of this!"
The blonde sneered at him, normally-warm blue eyes narrowed fiercely, curls trembling as she shook with suppressed fury. "As though some good would come of leaving her in that place," she spat. She threw a folder onto the table between them. "Sign it!" she demanded.
He did, muttering the whole time about how this was bound to end in arson or worse. "Don't come crying to me when she finally snaps and murders Hermione in her sleep," he warned her, piling guilt atop fear with a hateful scowl.
Emma would not be moved. "Fuck you, Siger," she drawled, reclaiming the paperwork. "And the horse you rode in on."
"You can't teach a psychopath to feel, Emma." His tone was the most condescending she had heard in weeks, which was saying quite a lot, given his ego, his favored argumentative tactics, and the fact that this argument had been raging for those self-same weeks.
"False assumption, you patronizing shit," she snapped. "I'm not going to teach her to feel, I'm going to teach her to behave."
Siger sneered far more magnificently than Emma could ever hope to do – she simply didn't have the nose for it. "Best of luck with that, sister."
She stalked from the room without dignifying his reply with a response, only to encounter her elder nephew in the doorway of the next room down the corridor, ostensibly reading a newspaper as he leaned against the frame.
"Mycroft," she greeted him, straightening her hair and clothing as she restrained her temper.
"Aunt Emma."
"I take it you overheard?"
"Much as I hate to agree with Father on… well, anything," he nodded, with an entirely false self-depreciating smile, "I can't help but think he's right, in this instance."
Emma reached up to pat his cheek: at eighteen, he was a full ten inches taller than she. "Don't worry, Myc. We both know Euros is the cleverest of us all, but she's still a child for all that. Now that we know where she's coming from… Well, in some ways, that makes parenting easier, I should think. Predictable."
"You're going to underestimate her."
His aunt smiled coldly. "Oh, I really won't." She let some warmth creep back into her expression as she added, "Besides, I'm looking forward to the challenge."
The young man sighed dramatically. "This whole bloody family is insane."
She laughed. "A bit. You just look after yourself and Sherlock, and let me take care of Euros. It'll be fine, Myc."
She was somewhat surprised to find herself engulfed in a quick hug, though much less so to hear him mutter, "I hope so. If you tell anyone about this, I will deny it."
"Your secret inclination toward spontaneous embraces is safe with me," she joked.
He let her go as if burned, toying with the paper he still held in his left hand. "Thank you," he said stiffly; she knew it wasn't just about his reputation. He had always tried to be a good big brother. She rather thought it was a shame fate had given him such challenging younger siblings, because it was a terribly thankless job.
She nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a child to retrieve."
"Best of luck," he nodded back, his words echoing his father, though his tone was far more sincere. "Don't hesitate to call, if…"
"You're a sweetheart, Myc. But it's not your job to worry about me, or Euros."
"Or Hermione?" he inserted shrewdly.
"Or Hermione," she agreed. "I do have some inkling as to what I'm doing, you know."
"I hope so," he muttered, so quietly she almost didn't hear it.
She let him have the last word as well, bidding him a silent farewell with another pat on the cheek.
…
Euros was a pretty child, wide eyed and innocent-looking, if one could get past the utterly blank expression she normally wore. She stood in the observation room at her facility and stared intently at the two-way glass separating her from Emma, as though she knew exactly where her aunt stood, despite the barrier.
"Are you certain about this, Mrs. Granger?" the psychologist beside her asked. "As you know, we have reason to believe that Miss Holmes is…"
"A psychopath? A danger to herself and others? Incapable of true remorse or reform? Using me? Mocking this institution and the entire discipline of psychology by telling you exactly what you want to hear?" Emma raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the man, who looked to be about Siger's age – twenty years or so her elder.
He flushed. "Well, that is, um…"
"Save it, doctor," she advised him. "Your analysis is invalidated not only by the fact that she is a child, but also by the fact that it is based largely in part on an absence of evidence. You took the fact that she responded to my advice to be indicative of her manipulative tendencies, rather than an indication that she is indeed capable of behaving as a more or less normal child of her age."
"What did you tell her?" the doctor asked, his tone verging on petulance.
Emma smirked. "That if she could prove to me that she is capable of behaving like a human, I would get her out of here."
"Like a human?"
Emma laughed. "Yes, human, as opposed to an untamed animal throwing tantrums as she was, or that 'in this world but not of it' thing she does so well."
The psychologist frowned. "Mrs. Granger, I really don't think –"
"If you're about to tell me off for othering her, don't bother. I'm not the one who decided she wasn't human; she is. Humans, in her eyes, are infinitely slow, crawling insects. Goldfish at best. Her mere existence in comparison to the idiots who surround her is othering. But she was not sentenced here by the courts, only her father, and I have his permission to take her away as your methods have proven to be ineffectual at best, so you will release her into my care. Now." She held his gaze with a cold stare, the hint of a challenge lurking around the promise to crush him like one of the aforementioned 'infinitely slow, crawling insects' if he denied her.
On the other side of the glass, Euros smiled.
The man blustered for several minutes more, but the paperwork was undeniable. He had to allow the child to leave, for all his misgivings about her and the woman who was, apparently, now her legal guardian.
…
"Ground rules, Emily Elizabeth," Emma said directly as she entered the observation room. The child did not respond, still making faces at the mirror, but her aunt knew she was listening. She could hardly help but be aware of everything around her, and seemed to forget nothing. "You will not harm Hermione, Dan, me, or yourself. I will define what constitutes harm and ensure that you are informed of these definitions and why I consider them harmful. You will make an effort to act human at all times. I will help you understand how and why humans act as they do. And you will ask for and receive my permission before doing anything that may result in the death of a human or animal, or property damage in excess of twenty pounds. These rules are non-negotiable, and if I find you have deliberately violated them, I will have you returned to an institution such as this one. If you comply, you will be rewarded with greater freedom from supervision and access to other people."
For the first time since Emma had entered the room, Euros deigned to look at her. "Sherlock?"
"Perhaps, in time."
"Hermione?"
"Not as a reward: you will be living with her, so I could hardly keep you apart."
"What probability of death or property damage?"
Emma hid a smirk, knowing she had won. "If an activity has a greater than one percent probability of death and/or a five percent probability of property damage, I expect to be consulted."
The little girl smiled and walked around the table, throwing her arms around her aunt. "I'm so glad you came to get me. Can we leave, now?"
Emma correctly interpreted this reaction as an acceptance of her rules: when left to her own devices, Euros was less inclined to hugging than Mycroft. "Very good," she murmured, returning the embrace. "And yes, let's do," she added for the benefit of the psychologist on the other side of the glass.
A moment later, the door opened from the outside. Euros examined the doubtful-looking man for a moment before asking, "Aunt Emma, why didn't you tell Dr. Fawcett that you're a doctor, too?"
She giggled at his consternation, though Emma agreed that it was quite evident in his expression and bearing that considered himself superior to her due to his expertise and education.
"Because, Euros, sometimes it is to one's advantage to be underestimated. And besides, putting him in his place would not have endeared me to him, nor would it have aided in securing your release. Shall we?"
The girl took her hand and skipped out of the room. "I'm going to get my clothes, and then we're going to the car," she narrated. Emma presumed she meant to say, 'Let me just grab my things, and then we can leave.' Self-explanatory phrases did not come naturally to the girl, who considered her actions easily interpreted in most cases.
Still, she thought, it's a start.