Chapter 19: How it was done (part 1)

Two hours later, Mycroft Holmes found himself, a mobile phone in his hand, filming his sister's room. "So, what do you want me to show you?"

"Look around, see if you can find something suspicious," the detective instructed.

"Like letters?" the older Holmes wanted to know and started to search.

"Something like that, yes please," Sherlock nodded.

The older Holmes walked through the room, searching the pillows, opening drawers, looking for secret places. "It appears our sister was having fun by herself," Mycroft replied, grabbing the pink 'woman's satisfier' and wagging it in front of the camera.

"Boring. Put it aside and tell me what else is in the drawer," the detective replied drily.

The older Holmes grinned. "Well, it looks like she was having even more fun here. There are handcuffs, a gag, a whip, a tow..."

"Mycroft!" Sherlock was getting impatient.

"Sorry, brother mine. As I told you before, nothing interesting here." He closed the drawer and stepped back. "I doubt we will find anything here, Sherlock."

"Rotate in the room, so I can see every corner," the detective suggested.

Mycroft did, as he was told and the detective tried to follow.

"Stop!" he suddenly shouted.

Mycroft held still and waited. "What is it?" he asked, curious about what had caught Sherlock's attention.

"There, the tile in the left corner."

"What about it?" Mycroft asked bored.

"A little piece is missing. I need you to take a closer look, please."

Mycroft stepped close to the corner and bent down, keeping the mobile phone motionless in front of him.

"Yes, right there." The detective was getting excited.

Mycroft looked at the tiles and couldn't see anything suspicious. "I don't see anything here. Maybe my mobile phone isn't good enough."

"Your phone is fine, Mycroft. Just look at the tile. There is a little piece missing," his brother replied.

"Oh, now I see. And what's the problem with this little piece?" he wanted to know.

"Look closer. The joint around the tile. There is a little space between the tile and the joint. And a piece of the tile is missing. What does that tell you?" Sherlock wanted to know.

"This tile is loose?" Mycroft answered, uninterested.

"Yes, of course it is," Sherlock complained sarcastically. "Someone has loosened this tile and the missing piece is the spot, where you can lift it up," Sherlock assumed.

"This is ridiculous, brother mine. The cameras would have caught that," Mycroft hissed.

"Look at the angle of the cameras. They are everywhere, yet there are little spaces, which the cameras cannot reach. This corner with the tile is one of them," Sherlock tried to instruct Mycroft once more.

Finally, the older brother sighed, rolled his eyes and tried to move the tile with a key. To his surprise, it moved and when he lifted it up,he saw a bundle of letters stuffed behind the tile. "Impossible. How did you know?"

"I observe, Mycroft. You should try it sometime," the detective teased him. "Now, what are those letters? Unpaid bills?"

Mycroft opened the first letter and photographed it with his mobile.

If there is light or if there is dark. We are not born to decide, which side of the light we live. We are made for one side. It's all decided the moment we are born. I was born in the dark without light. Nothing could make me happy. Everything disgusted me. Except you. You changed me. I discovered, that you are my missing piece. When I first saw you at the well, I instantly knew, that you were the answer to all my questions. It took me a long time, to figure out, where they took you. I searched and searched. I even broke into your family's house to get answers. And I threatened a man called Rudy Holmes. He's your uncle, am I right? He didn't tell me where they took you, so I waited, and I made his life a living hell. Of course, I warned him, but he didn't want to listen. Not until I killed his son Henry. Sherlock and Mycroft believed, it was an accident, but I know better. I can still hear that eight year old boy whimpering, knowing he would be soon hanging from a tree. Rudy Holmes had a chance, but he never took it. So, shit happens. Hope to hear from you soon, JM.

"What a surprise," Sherlock whispered.

"I have only faint memories of Henry. He was a good boy. I was told he committed suicide, but I always doubted it," Mycroft sounded depressed. "You and he were only few months apart."

"I was told the same, but watching our parents' reaction to his death told me everything I needed to know," the detective admitted.

"Nothing will be served by discussing it now, Sherlock. Should we concentrate on the letters, instead?" Mycroft tried to change the subject.

"The stage is yours, brother."

With no further exchange between them, the older Holmes picked up the next letter and started to read.

When I saw you yesterday after a long time, I promised myself, that I would do anything to get you out of here. What a shame to put such a brilliant mind in a cage. You deserve so much better. Believe me. Next time, I visit you, I shall take you with me. No one will ever know, that's my vow. JM

"They were really a love couple and I never saw it. Or let's say, that I didn't know at the beginning. Later, when I was threatened by Moriarty and my sister, I had an idea of what was going on between the two."

Mycroft's admission alarmed Sherlock. "Wait. What are you saying? He threatened you?"

The older Holmes took a deep breath. "Well, he threatened me in a way that would have ended my career at the government." He looked at Sherlock's image on the mobile's screen and turned away.

"Why does it always have to matter, what gender one loves?" Sherlock muttered. "It doesn't change the way one thinks," he said agitated.

Mycroft swivelled the camera back so he could look at Sherlock. "He knew, that Parliament doesn't accept homosexual people. This job is my life, it's... everything to me. Losing my position would have destroyed me and he used this knowledge against me. Later, when Eurus and Moriarty wanted to leave Sherrinford, I refused and it nearly got you killed."

Sherlock looked up. "What?"

His brother nodded. "Do you remember when you met Moriarty in the swimming hall?"

"Of course. He packed my friend up with dynamite and then decided it would be better to assassinate us," the detective relived the scene.

"Exactly. And what happened then?" Mycroft wanted to know.

"His phone rang and he cancelled his plans," the younger Holmes told.

"That phone call… was me," the older Holmes confessed.

There was a long silence before Sherlock said, "I don't believe you Mycroft."

"Sherlock, it's true. It was me, trying to save your and John's lives." From his brother's abject look, Sherlock had to consider this impossibility was the truth.

"How did you know?"

"Moriarty told me, Sherlock. Told me everything about how to get to you. The security detail I had assigned you rang me at the very moment you were standing at the swimming pool with red laser points covering your body. This… this was the moment, he broke me," Mycroft told his brother, his voice registering his disquiet.

Mycroft searched the unbelieving look on his brother's face. "There are so many things you still don't know Sherlock."

"Well, I just figured it out myself," the younger Holmes tried to sound calm.

"Shall we go on?" Mycroft tried to change the subject.

"Sure, you are going to read every letter and if you find something interesting, call me."

"Sherlock, there are nearly thirty letters to read. Are you serious?" Mycroft sounded exasperated.

"I know you can do it. See you later." With that, Sherlock closed the call.

Mycroft Holmes stared at the display of his mobile. Sighing, he sat on his sister's bed and started to read through the letters.

"So, any news yet?" the blogger wanted to know, when his friend closed his Mac Book.

"You remember our first meeting with Moriarty?" Sherlock looked at his friend.

John gave him a cross look. "How could I ever forget that? He made me a bombing Christmas tree."

The detective grinned. "Yeah, something like that."

Watson was irritated. "Why are you asking?"

"Do you remember the phone call, Moriarty got, when I was ready to blow his bomb..."

"…and us with it? Yes."

"It was my brother who called him," the detective informed calmly.

"What?! No, no way Sherlock. That's a joke, isn't it?"

John was reacting the way, Sherlock had expected he would. "That was my first thought, too, when he told me. But I saw my brother's face, John. For the first time in my experience, Mycroft was ashamed."

"You are kidding me." The blogger couldn't believe it.

"Consider John. What have we seen, time after time in our investigations? People would do anything for a loved one," Sherlock replied.

John said nothing.

The detective looked at his best friend, a questioning look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"What you just said...about doing anything for one's loved ones..."

"Yes?"

"Mary took that bullet… because she loved me?"

"She took the bullet, because she knew you. You loved her, but Mary understood, that my loss would break you," the detective said softly. It was still a sensitive topic between the two friends.

"You know, Mary was right. She was indeed right. I have learnt cope with her loss, but when you faked your death, I… couldn't." The blogger swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut to force back the tears starting to form.

Sherlock waited until John's composure returned, then asked, "Just to be clear, then: we are not a couple, are we?" Sherlock's tactic worked and stunned John with the question.

"How often do we have to discuss this, Sherlock? Of course, we aren't. Or is there something else you want to tell me?"

"Nope, not really. Just trying to change the topic."

"Sometimes you are such a cock, Sherlock. Really, I mean it."

The detective grinned smugly. "I know."

"All right, then. If I get out of here tomorrow, I will call a good friend of mine. His name is Randolph Fuller. He was the military doctor, who trained me. I am hoping, he knows something about those strings."

"Sounds good. Every help is appreciated. Sometimes even a Sherlock Holmes doesn't know everything."

"You shouldn't say that. It makes you sound human," the blogger chuckled.

Meanwhile, a very bored Mycroft Holmes was still sitting in the Sherrinford cell, going through Moriarty's letters. When he opened the thirty-second letter, the last one, he started to read.

This is where everything ends. You and I fulfilled a plan. Our son will continue, what I began. You know, what I am going to do and you also know, what your mission is. We need to be careful, but I have written down everything for you, so you can always read it. No one but you will ever see it. Every time you want to. I gave you a present and I am sure, you will like it. No one knows, but we do. You once told Sherlock, that the song is the answer. I am telling you, the darkness is. In the dark you see me. In the dark I am near you. If I am gone, I will still be there with you. Remember that.

The older Holmes stared at the letter with a growing sense of dread. Something was wrong with this, but he couldn't tell, what disturbed him about it. If he concentrated enough, he would be able to make deductions as good as insightful as Sherlock's. Most of his life he had tried to avoid doing it, because he wanted to see people as human beings. If he started to observe and deduce as his brother did, he would soon discover things in the people he cared for that he might not want to know. But something told Mycroft, that it was now time, to use those skills he shared with Sherlock. He looked at the letter once more. The room around him started to fade and he was drawn back to the time, when Eurus had drowned his brother's best friend. Mycroft had known the truth from the beginning, because Eurus had told him everything. It was only after Mycroft had spent decades, trying to keep Eurus away from their parents and Sherlock, that he grew certain Eurus was up to something, starting to develop a new plan to hurt Sherlock. The first time, he learned about what she had done, was when they were fighting again.

It was a week after Victor's missing, when she tried to kill his younger brother once more. While he could prevent it, Eurus just gave him an evil smile and said, "It was so easy to drown him. Just a little push and he was gone in three minutes."

"What are you talking about?" Mycroft asked, his gut clenching with foreboding.

"The boy. Victor. You should have seen it. So heart-breaking, when our brother tried to save him with a branch. Sherlock fought so hard, to get his friend out of the well and stop him from drowning, but he discovered, he wasn't strong enough to pull him out. So, he had to let go and watch his best friend drown."

Mycroft never forgot that moment. He knew the whole time what really happened, but wasn't able to help his brother. In an odd way he was even thankful, that Sherlock had repressed those terrible memories. Perhaps that had saved his brother from committing suicide. The emotional, lovely Sherlock was gone, replaced by a child, which had never smiled or cried again...

Now he was standing in the room of the woman, who had traumatized his little brother – and hers, looking for answers. "Concentrate Mycroft. See the things, Sherlock would see," he encouraged himself. "The darkness is the answer. How can there be an answer, when there is always light?"

The older Holmes looked around. Maybe if he turned off the lights. He couldn't find a light switch, so he stepped into the corridor, to find someone, who would be able to help him. After the death of his sister, life was returning to Sherrinford. Before Sherlock had decided to meet Eurus, Mycroft had had the building evacuated to ensure no one else would get hurt. He had retained a few security guards in the background as a precaution. Life was returning to Sherrinford following the death their sister. Everyone was returning to routine. When Mycroft looked at the people's faces, he saw relief. When a guard recognized him, he stepped in front of the tall man and greeted him. "Mr Holmes, it's good to see you here. The loss of your sister must be hard for you."

"Well, all lives end, all hearts are broken. It is what it is," the older Holmes replied calm.

The guard - Benjamin Horner – looked at him with sympathy. "It seems like you are looking for something. Can I help you?"

"I do. Yes. I am looking for a way to shut off the lights in my sister's room."

Benjamin nodded and offered to show Mycroft the control room he was searching for. When the men entered, they were greeted by a long row of monitors, computers, switches and buttons.

"Amazing," Mycroft whispered while looking around.

"Do you want me to stay here and change the light or should I just shut it down?" the guard offered.

"If it's not a big problem for you, I would like to be in my sister's room, when the light is shut down."

"No problem, Mr Holmes. I will stay here and when I see you on the monitor, you can give me a signal."

Back in his sister's room, Mycroft positioned himself in the middle of the room and waved a hand. The lights shut down, the room went totally dark and the older Holmes saw nothing.

"Nothing?" he mused. "That can't be. It just can't be. The darkness is the answer, so where IS the answer? There is nothing! Just darkness!" The older Holmes was close to losing his temper. He had been so sure it would be the way to find the answer to this puzzle. Now he had to admit, that he wasn't as clever as Eurus or Sherlock. "I can't do it. I just can't do it," he sighed and speed-dialled his brother's number.

Sherlock was sitting up in his bed, trying to get out of it.

"Sherlock, what are you doing?" a voice near him asked.

"I need to go to the toilet," the detective answered and continued his mission.

"No, you are not leaving this bed. If you have to pee, I will call a nurse. She can help you," the blogger warned him.

"I am not peeing in a bottle John. Now shut up and let me go the bathroom," Sherlock hissed.

John Watson had a bad feeling about his friend's plan and decided, to try it once more. "Do you trust me to least give you a hand? I don't want you to get hurt. Remember, you promised Steven to stay in bed and be a good patient."

"I changed my mind. I want to get out of here," the younger Holmes complained.

"I know you do but as a doctor and of course as your friend, I can't let that happen. Now, be a good boy and let me help you to the loo, please."

Sherlock looked at his best friend and knew, he had no choice. He gave in and let John tried support his weight. Together, very slowly, they made it to the bathroom. When he had finished, his blogger led him back to bed. With a final hiss of pain, the detective was back, where he belonged.

"Jesus, have you gained weight Sherlock?" the blogger panted from exertion.

"This was Steven's idea. Don't accuse me," the detective replied drily.

The Mac Book pinged and the younger Holmes motioned John to hand it to him. The totally black screen irritated Sherlock. "Mycroft, if you want to play hide-and-seek, this is the wrong moment."

"Very funny brother mine. I am standing in our sister's room and don't have any idea, how to continue."

"Well, you can't find anything in the dark. I should have thought you know that."

In the background, John was snorting with laughter. He liked eavesdropping these conversations between the two brothers.

"I read all their letters and Moriarty was talking about the dark being the answer," Mycroft informed him.

"So, you switched off the lights and are sitting in the dark?"

"Standing actually."

"…and now you are desperate, because there was no hidden answer?" Sherlock was incredulous.

The detective heard a sigh.

"I tried, brother mine, but I think this is a dead end. There is nothing in this room," Mycroft said.

"Oh, Mycroft. When will you starting to using your brain? Of course, this is a dead end! Moriarty would never make it that easy, do you see?"

The older Holmes stayed silent.

"Good. Now listen to me," Sherlock went on. "I know exactly, what you expected to find: some words written with fluorescent colours, am I right?"

"How did you know?"

Sherlock smiled. "Because most people would think this way. The problem is Eurus had used this technique already. I doubt she would use it a second time, so Moriarty must have found another way to show her his plans. Don't forget, we are talking about two geniuses here.

Mycroft decided to give up. "So, what shall I do?" he asked desperate.

"Did you bring the special flashlight with you?" the detective asked.

"The one with the UV black light?"

"Exactly. I am sure if you use it, you will see what's hidden in the dark." Sherlock ended the call and looked up at John. "All we have to do is wait for the big surprise."

The older Holmes was standing lost in the big prison and sighed. Sometimes he just felt useless, especially when he and Sherlock need to solve a puzzle together. Mostly it was his younger brother, who made the deductions and conclusions, not him. He more felt like a bystander, instead of a helping hand. Now he found himself alone in a dark room for the first time, his special flashlight in his hand. One last breath and he switched on the light. And when a million words popped up around him, his eyes grew wide. "What the hell," he whispered and looked around at the thousands of glowing words. When he finally found the beginning of the long text, he started to read:

Sherlock's trigger points are easy to find. By using John Watson, Redbeard or his family as lures, he will succumb to the pressure. The most effective way to break him would be to kill John Watson. If you threaten his family, that will stress him, as well. If you want him to suffer a very long time, hurt him. He isn't used to physical pain, so the element of surprise would be on your side here. Your brother always needs to move. Tie him to a hospital bed and he will go crazy, I promise you. There are so many ways to torture Sherlock, so I am sure you will find the right combination. The optimal move is to kill his doctor friend. I don't know if Sherlock is in love with him, but I am certain of this: this man is Sherlock's pressure point. You want to know my plan for him? If I am gone, there is one person you should meet. His name is Culverton Smith, and a very good friend of mine and nearly as resourceful as am I. He's a serial killer and I know he is infatuated with your brother. Some nonsense about his eyes, don't know what he was talking about. But one thing is for sure: he wants him dead. Maybe you two can figure something out. Could be fun. If Smith fails, I have another plan for you. Invite Sherlock here. I am sure he is obsessed in meeting his sister. Take John Watson as bait. If the doctor is involved, your brother sure as hell will visit you. Make sure the doctor dies. Sherlock can't handle the loss of a second friend, believe me. Also make sure that you torture him with the people he cares about. Molly Hooper is a very good choice. She loves him so much and he still ignores her, because he doesn't feel the same. Give the two of them a little fun. Make sure, you take the chance to punish the people, who did this to you. Uncle Rudy and of course your parents should know, how you felt about being taken away. As for Sherlock, I know you want him dead. So, do I. I was thinking about that for a very long time and finally, I got an idea which is almost perfect. So here is my plan for him and darling, this is one of the best ideas I've ever had. Believe me.

Hurt him. Hurt him, so you are able to numb him. When you take care of the wound, make sure you have a doctor with you. I will send you a package in the next few days. Keep it as long as possible. It's a special bullet, a magnet, actually. You will need to find a doctor who is able to insert it at your brother's heart. Because of the wound, no one will be able to discover the magnet, which must be placed through the wound. You know what I mean? A good place for the entrance wound would be Sherlock's shoulder. Do your utmost to arrange that. The doctor has to make sure that the magnet stays in place as long as possible. There are two ways this story ends. The first is your brother gets hurt and the magnet is attracted by an instrument. I doubt this will happen. The second is more likely: the magnet will loosen sometime in the future, ripping a hole in his heart and causing instantaneous death or become free-floating in the bloodstream, causing massive damage to his body. It's unlikely he will survive that, you see? I am a genius. This is my gift for you, when I am gone. All these years I have wanted this man dead, just as you have. I am trusting you to complete, what I began. This is where I take off. Goodbye, sweetie. Make my son wear the crown.

Mycroft stood in total shock, unable to move. "This was planned years ago. I can't believe it," he muttered. The older Holmes walked around the perimeter of the room, staring at all the instructions Moriarty had written for Eurus – the ravings of the criminally insane to someone equally as mad. "Dear God, Sherlock," Mycroft exhaled, "I am so sorry for all of this. For not seeing, for not protecting you. First Smith and now Eurus. You must have been in so much pain. Not only physical, but emotional as well, I think. How did I not see you were in such danger… Forgive me brother mine."