Apologies for making you wait so long for this up-date. I got rather distracted by the tennis at Wimbledon. But that's done, now, for another year so...back to the keyboard!

There's a brief mention of sexual abuse in this chapter but nothing you don't already know about.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Sir Edwin stared in consternation at the screaming soldier and the muzzle of the assault rifle, hovering just millimetres from his eye, then slid awkwardly off the chair and prostrated himself on the floor. Meanwhile, at the sudden appearance of military personnel, the two orderlies released their hold on Eurus and stepped back, intent on distancing themselves from the man on the ground and hoping, perhaps, to make their escape through the door by which they had entered, just a few minutes earlier. But, if that was their plan, it was thwarted when that door opened to admit two more combat-ready soldiers. Very wisely, and without even being asked, the orderlies dropped to their knees and put their hands on their heads, in the internationally recognised pose of surrender.

Eurus, still in her seat and just as surprised by the sudden turn of events as everyone else in the room, gazed past the soldier guarding Sir Edwin, through the open door and down the corridor, expecting – or perhaps hoping - to see Sherlock striding towards her but, instead, it was Mycroft, wearing a grim expression. At the sight of him, her heart lurched. She reached out and grabbed the hypodermic syringe that Sir Edwin had abandoned on the table top. Holding it in her fist like a dagger, with her thumb poised on the plunger, she jumped to her feet and shouted,

'Keep away from me!'

Almost immediately, a pair of gloved hands landed on her shoulders and she screamed in terror and twisted in their grip, desperate to escape, lashing out with the syringe, trying to strike her assailant.

'Eurus. It's alright. It's over. You're safe now.'

The voice in her ear was calm and gentle and…familiar.

'Sherlock?' she gasped, lowering the 'weapon' and turning to confirm that she was not imagining things. Sherlock smiled reassuringly and reached out to prise the syringe from her stiff fingers and pass it to Mycroft, now standing on the opposite side of the table. Overcome with relief, Eurus threw her arms around Sherlock's waist and buried her face in the folds of his coat. As she felt his comforting arms wrap around her, the surge of adrenalin that had fuelled her earlier bravado in the face of imminent death began to dissipate and she was beset by an attack of 'the shakes', her knees giving way, suddenly unable to support her weight. Sherlock eased her, carefully, back onto her chair and knelt beside her, murmuring reassuring words as Eurus rested her head on his shoulder and allowed the stress of the last few minutes to drain away.

Mycroft retrieved the safety cap of the hypodermic from the table and replaced it over the needle then slipped the syringe into his breast pocket. The contents would be analysed at the earliest opportunity, to discern what fate Sir Edwin had in mind for their sister.

Meanwhile, the former Head of MI6 was being dragged to his feet by two burley soldiers, in preparation for being hauled away, but, as he came face to face with Mycroft, their eyes met in a hard stare of mutual loathing.

'You haven't heard the last of this, Holmes!' Sir Edwin snarled.

'My thoughts precisely,' replied Mycroft and nodded to the soldiers to carry on.

As he was frog-marched away, down the corridor, Sir Edwin spewed a diatribe of vitriol against his former colleague, interspersed with indignant protests…

'Let go of me! Don't you know who I am? I'll have you court-martialled for this!'

…on and on until the sound of his voice was cut off by Mycroft closing the intervening door. He then turned his attention back to Eurus and Sherlock. The three Holmes siblings were now the only occupants of the room, the two orderlies having been removed. Sherlock met Mycroft's gaze, over the head of his sister, who was no longer shaking but still clinging tightly to him.

'So, brother,' he said, 'what happens now?'

Mycroft pursed his lips. He hadn't actually thought that far ahead. The recent revelations of Rudi's treachery were still reverberating inside his skull. His brow furrowed and he brought up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.

'Well, she can't stay here, can she!' Sherlock exclaimed. 'It's clearly not a safe environment for her…if it ever was, which is highly questionable.'

'No, she can't stay here, obviously, but she still needs to be somewhere secure…'

'No!' Eurus gasped, clinging even tighter to Sherlock, who stroked her hair to soothe her.

'Mycroft, I can prove to you that Eurus is of no danger to anyone. She was brought here under false pretences and has been exploited and abused ever since. And the evidence for all that is right here, in the computer archives of this installation. I know this because I hacked the database. I've seen the CCTV footage; I've read the daily log and I've had her medical records analysed by an expert. Under your watch, our sister has been sexually abused…No! Let's call it by its name! She's been raped, repeatedly, by those entrusted with her care! Entrusted by you! And she's been subjected to intrusive surgical procedures…Again, let's dispense with euphemisms…she has been forcibly sterilised, right here, in this building, under your watch!'

Sherlock could feel the anger bubbling inside him, a roiling lava lake of fury. How could this man – his brother - who knew everything, who controlled everything, who had his finger on every pulse in the entire world, have been so derelict when it came to the welfare of his own sister? As Charlotte said, he had abdicated all responsibility for Eurus's care and management to Governor David and, as a result, had been entirely ignorant of what was happening to her under that man's authority and, apparently, under the new governor, too, and utterly oblivious to Sir Edwin's role in all of this.

But, even in the heat of his outrage, he became aware of the effect his words were having on Eurus, who flinched and gasped at every bald fact of her lived experience as he spat them out.

'I'm so sorry; forgive me,' he whispered, resting his cheek against her head and rocking, gently, to ease her anguish.

Mycroft was not unmoved by this outburst, either. In fact, he was devastated. He crumpled onto the seat vacated by Sir Edwin and dropped his head into his hands. Sherlock was right. This was his fault. He hadn't just taken his eye off the ball, where Eurus was concerned, he'd abandoned the field. His slavish devotion to Uncle Rudi had blinded him to the truth, had overridden his natural inclination to check and double check, to question and interrogate, to suspect and distrust, to oversee and control. He had been severely derelict in his duty and, for a man for whom duty was the by-word of his very existence, this knowledge cut him to the quick.

But he couldn't sit here and wallow in self-pity. What was done, was done. The priority now was damage limitation, starting with Eurus's immediate future. He had no reason to doubt Sherlock's assertions. He should have expected that, having taken on the task of freeing Eurus, his brother would leave no stone unturned to get to the truth. Hacking into Sherrinford's database would be a given. Why he had never bothered to access his sister's files – as he could have done, quite legitimately, at any time during the past several years since Rudi's demise – he had no idea. The thought had just never occurred. Rudi's hold over both him and Sir Edwin had been subtle but all-encompassing and had endured well beyond the grave. But the inquest would have to wait for another day. Now was the time for decisive action.

'Eurus,' he said, rising to his feet, 'go and collect your belongings, meagre though I'm sure they are. You're coming home with me.'

'No' she exclaimed, pressing tighter against Sherlock's shoulder. Exchanging Sherrinford for Uncle Rudi's former home would be just swopping one prison for another; perhaps a more comfortable one but a prison, nonetheless.

'Don't you think we should ask Eurus where she would like to go?' Sherlock interceded.

Mycroft was nonplussed.

'Where else could she go? She can't move into your grubby little hovel and you're surely not suggesting she stay with our elderly parents. They can barely take care of themselves. There is nowhere else.'

'Charlotte…' Eurus implored.

'Charlotte? Who is Charlotte?' Mycroft exclaimed, deeply perplexed.

'You'll see,' Sherlock replied, quirking a smile that reflected his smugness at, for once, knowing something that Mycroft did not.

ooOoo

'Meagre' was an overstatement where Eurus's personal possessions were concerned. In truth, apart from her toothbrush and toiletries, the only things she actually owned were her violin and the game of Operation, each a gift from a brother, each priceless in its own way. The governor had not allowed her to keep the Operation game in her cell but had permitted supervised access and she had been practicing her technique, in the hope of a rematch, someday. Perhaps one could now be arranged.

The clothes, shoes and wigs she had worn on her trips out, masquerading as 'E', Faith Smith and the therapist, along with the mobile phone she had used to 'sext' John Watson, were in a suitcase at Charlotte's house. And they weren't really 'her' clothes but theatrical costumes, selected for the characters she was to play. So, she would have to leave Sherrinford, for the last time ever, wearing only her prison garb and Sherlock's suit jacket, hastily substituted for his Belstaff coat, which had swamped her and pooled around her feet, like a Gothic bridal train.

Eurus had wished, hoped and longed for this moment for so many years but, now it was happening – so suddenly and without prior notice – she could hardly believe it was true. It felt like a waking dream. Indeed, she was so taken aback by the sudden and spectacular reversal of her fortunes that she would have been incapable of action were it not for Sherlock, with patience and sensitivity, guiding her through the process.

Painfully aware that his presence was a source of distress to his sister, despite the revelations about Sir Edwin, Mycroft took himself off to the Governor's office and proceeded to do what he did best – take control. His first demand was to see the 'standing orders' that the governor had referred to, which gave the Head of MI6 ultimate authority over his sister's daily life. The governor was more than happy to co-operate and adamant that he had been led to believe the Home Secretary was fully aware of the arrangement. Mycroft was able to dispel such assumptions with a simple phone call to Lady Smallwood. She was as shocked as he had been to discover Sir Edwin's secret assignment. And, in light of Sherlock's assertions, she readily sanctioned Eurus's immediate removal from Sherrinford to a place of safety. As Home Secretary, she had the power to do this and the governor could not have objected, even if he was inclined to do so. In truth, the man was relieved to be rid of his most controversial inmate.

Assured of the governor's loyalty, Mycroft was content to leave him in charge of Sherrinford – for the time being, at least – but ordered the bulk of the task force personnel to remain on the island to secure it against any risk of external attack until all in-house personnel had been screened for possible subversives and had their security clearance reinstated.

'But what about Sir Edwin?' the governor enquired.

'He will be returning to London under my jurisdiction and will answer for his actions there, as will his henchmen,' Mycroft assured him.

As Eurus exited the main front door, she shielded her eyes from the natural sunlight and inhaled the fresh sea air, feeling the brisk westerly wind on her cheeks, such a contrast to the sterile, filtered, recycled air of her prison cell. Having descended the clanging metal stairs to the beach and crossed the firm, damp sand, to the waiting Chinook, her feet leaving shallow indentations that quickly filled with water from the recent high tide. She was assisted into the aircraft and buckled into her seatbelt, before donning the headset to protect her delicate inner ears from the roar of the helicopter engines.

Mycroft resumed his seat on the opposite side of the aisle and immediately began texting his PA, Anthea, advising her of the current situation and giving instructions for necessary arrangements to be made for their imminent arrival in Edinburgh. Sherlock took the seat next to Eurus, whereupon she clasped his arm with both of hers and leant against his shoulder, eyes closed. Overcome with a great fatigue, the short return journey to Edinburgh Airport would be spent in a state of disassociation, still not quite certain that this was not some bizarre dream from which she would eventually awake and find herself back in her cell at Sherrinford.

Sir Edwin was installed in the rear of the aircraft, flanked by two minders, who stoically maintained a façade of disinterest, despite their charge continuing to protest his innocence, albeit drowned out by the noise of the engines. The two lackeys were more circumspect, resigned to plea bargaining by turning Queen's Evidence. With the remains of the task force again on board and the rear ramp door secured, the helicopter took to the air.

When it touched down in the very spot from which it had departed earlier that day, only three persons alighted and climbed straight into the black cab awaiting them on the tarmac. After a brief exchange with her boss, during which he transferred the syringe and its contents into her safe-keeping, Anthea was handed up into the Chinook and took a seat in the cockpit for the journey south to RAF Northolt. From there, she would accompany the 'prisoners' back to MI6 headquarters at Vauxhall Cross, colloquially known as 'The River House', where Sir Edwin would experience a taste of his own medicine when interrogated by his former colleague, Mycroft Holmes.

However, that encounter would have to be deferred until Mycroft's return to London since, right now, he was on his way to a leafy square in the Edinburgh suburbs to meet this 'Charlotte' person, whomever she might be.

ooOoo

Charlotte Storer was seated in her elegant sitting room, contemplating what to prepare for lunch, when the distinctive sound of black cab pulling up outside her home drew her to the window. Looking down, she watched as a tall, thin figure with a receding hairline climbed from the cab and looked around the square and then up at her window. Charlotte gasped and took a step back, her hand moving reflexively to cover her mouth.

Mycroft Holmes? Here? Now?

She was having difficulty processing this information.

How could he?

Sherlock Holmes, the man in whom Eurus had placed all her trust, had betrayed her – betrayed them both – and led his evil brother here to her home, her sanctuary. Her thoughts were spinning as she tried to come up with a plan of evasive action, and failed. Rooted to the spot, she waited for the inevitable sound of her door knocker hammering, heralding her imminent doom at the hands of the British Government. Unable to resist the magnetic draw of fatalism, she moving back to the window and looked down again just in time to see two more figures emerge from the cab and this time her heart almost stopped as she recognised both of them.

'Eurus?' she gasped, reaching out in search of support as her rapid heartbeat thundered in her ears. She feared she might faint clean away but, fortunately, the wall was there to save her and she steadied herself against it for a moment before turning and rushing from the room, descending the stairs as fast as her feet would take her, throwing caution to the wind at the risk of falling. As she reached the hallway, the bell chimed and she threw open the heavy front door.

'Eurus!' she cried and opened her arms to receive the one person who mattered most to her in all the world. 'Oh, my darling girl,' she breathed, pulling Eurus into a tight embrace, oblivious to the presence of the two men, standing patiently on the pavement, bearing witness to this emotional reunion.

'Oh, my darling, how are you? Are you alright? How…how did this happen? Are you free? Oh, my precious girl…' she gabbled, whilst alternately holding Eurus close and then at arm's length, frantically scanning her for any signs of ill-health or injury.

In response to this torrent of questions, Eurus, holding tight to the front folds of Charlotte's waterfall cardigan, could only nod her head and repeat,

'Yes, yes, yes.'

After a few moments, Sherlock gave a discrete cough and Charlotte remembered where they were. She looked into the faces of the Holmes brothers, noting the crinkled brow and puzzled expression of Mycroft and the soft, almost wistful smile of Sherlock and, turning away, she shepherded Eurus into the house and up the stairs to the sitting room, confident that the men would follow. Sherlock, holding the door for his brother to pass through, muttered,

'Where are the bodies?'

...at which Mycroft pursed his lips and gave an infinitesimal shake of the head, indicating Not now! There would be plenty of time for explanations and recriminations later. Sherlock had clearly been right about so many things - the Governor's wife was not dead, Uncle Rudi was not to be trusted. He wondered what else he had been completely wrong about but his priority at the moment was to ascertain this woman's intentions toward his sister and to assess whether she could be trusted with Eurus's care, and whether this was likely to be a temporary or a permanent arrangement. And, on top of all that, all the while, he wondered how and what he was going to tell his parents.

ooOoo