Chapter 28: Knowing Me, Knowing You

When finally arriving at Regents Park, the streets were already flooded. Not that bad as in 2015 but flooded they were. Sherlock jumped out of the car, his shoes filling up with water. He asked the cab driver to wait for him and ran to the first bench on the left. He knew that on the right side of the bench in the grass was a manhole. When he reached the spot, Sherlock opened the lid and stepped down into the tunnel system. The flow was very strong and the detective had no idea how to search for John and Hailey. Still standing on the stairs he looked around and to his shock discovered that the rooms were already flooded. If John and Hailey were kept in one of those, he had to accept that there wasn't any hope of survival. Something was forming in his throat and he had the feeling that he was going to get sick right now. For a moment he thought of jumping in the flooding water but something told him not to do it. When he left the manhole and entered the cab once more, he took a deep breath and started to sob. This wasn't how he wanted this story to end. 'All lives end. All hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock…" Mycroft's words were popping up in his mind.

"God John, I am so sorry. I wasn't fast enough this time. Forgive me," he whispered, while the tears were silently falling.

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death' or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."

Sherlock looked up, staring in the mirror of the cab, where he could see the eyes of the cab driver. "That's Revelation 21:4. I know this one," the detective said surprised.

The cab driver was starting the engine and drove off. "Where are we going? I didn't give you a destination." Sherlock asked wondering.

"Don't worry Mr. Holmes. You will soon find out," the cab driver laughed satisfied.

John was exhausted to the core but still protected the little girl, who was still firm in his grip. He couldn't lose her. Not yet, not here. Both were coughing, when the water entered their mouths with full force. Still there was no opportunity for John to hold on to something. They were fighting to stay alive for forty minutes now and there was no end in sight. While the blogger still fought his way through the waves, Hailey went limp in his arms and he knew there wasn't much time left for both of them. When John was sure they weren't going to made it, a flow caught them and they were pushed in a different tunnel system, where the water wasn't flooding as strong as it was before. The girl still in his arms, John lost the battle to stay awake and his eyes closed, their bodies softly floating in the water.

"Where are you taking me?" Sherlock once more asked the cab driver. His feeling already told him, that the man was working for Moriarty.

"You should learn to rein your tongue Mr. Holmes," the man replied calmly.

"Don't try to raise me. My parents tried over twenty years with no success," the detective hissed back.

The cabbie just laughed and continued his journey.

They had been driving for over an hour when finally, the car stopped and the man behind the wheel turned around to face the detective. "Final destination," he said and Sherlock opened the door to find out where he was. As soon as the door of the cab closed the cab sped away with squeaking tires.

Sherlock stood in the middle of nowhere. It was still raining and he could feel the cold creeping through his Bellstaff. He looked around, "Where am I?"

He started to follow the stony path, which laid ahead of him. Maybe if he followed it, he would be able to recognize where he was. While he was walking the detective looked around. Everything was grey from the clouds and the rain. Some older trees were tossing from side to side in the wind. The path was decorated with some bigger stones and a bench followed on the right side. On and on he went, still not recognizing where he was. Sherlock got desperate. First, he had failed his best friend and Steven's daughter and now someone has dumped him here in the wild. It was getting colder and he was shivering but somehow, he didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore. How should he tell Steven what happened to his daughter? How to explain that he was responsible for all of this? And how would he be able to continue without his best friend? He needed his blogger. Facing a life without the brilliant man – he couldn't accept it. Sherlock continued his walk and suddenly he stopped. An old tree got his attention. The detective left the stony path and stepped into the wet grass. When he reached the old maple tree, he stared at it and touched the peeling bark. There was a clear spot, where the bark was pulled off years ago and the initials 'S' and 'V' were still visible. Sherlock smiled, while touching the spot. "Victor," he whispered and his memories slowly returned…

"Hey Sherlock, wait for me." Young Sherlock Holmes turned around to look at his friend Victor Trevor, who was running after him. He stopped and waited for his friend to arrive. Both were back from school and now walking up the path which led to their homes. It was a sunny day in June and the birds were singing while flying through the trees. The smell of roses, wild orchids and lilacs were filling their nostrils. Sherlock liked this time of the year. Spring was slowly ending, waiting to be replaced by the summer. When he had finally caught up with Sherlock, Victor was smiling.

"The thing you did today with Mrs. Elvers was amazing. How did you do it?"

"I did nothing. I just looked at her face and knew it."

"Mrs. Elvers and the school director. That's kind of a story, don't you think?"

Little Sherlock smiled, "I know what's coming next." Victor looked at him.

"The director will call my Mum. Guess I will soon be in trouble but I don't care. I can't help myself, hope she will get it sometime."

"You have to stop it Sherlock! Otherwise, you will never make friends. They are already talking about you," Victor begged.

They continued to walk back home, neither of them talking.

"Sometimes I ask myself, if you deserve a better friend then me," Sherlock whispered.

Victor stopped, totally confused by the statement. "Why do you think so?"

"I don't know. It's just that I am asking myself that question a lot recently."

For a moment Victor just stood there in total silence, then he started to search his pockets. A few seconds later his hand came up with a pocket knife. Sherlock looked at him curious. The little boy with the blonde hair just smiled, stepped to the old maple tree and started to slice the letters 'S' and 'V' into the tree.

"That's a reminder, Sherlock. If something happens to me, just remember that I will always be your friend. Forever and always." He turned around and looked at the tall boy with the dark brown curls.

"Friendship is not about sexuality. It's not about gender and it's also not about age. Friendship means, someone likes you for just the way you are. Always remember that Sherlock."

For a moment, the two little boys just stood there, staring at their initials.

"Sherlock Holmes! What in God's name were you thinking?" The boys looked up the path and saw Mrs. Holmes at the top of it. "Come up here, now!"

"Uh-oh. Guess I am in trouble now," young Holmes replied and ran towards his mother.

Victor waved a silent 'goodbye' and Sherlock could see that his lips were forming the words 'good luck'.

"It's been so long since last I was here," Sherlock whispered, while touching the initials with his finger. The detective stepped back and started to continue his walk. Finally, he made it to the top and in front of him appeared the remains of Musgrave Hall. "I…am home again," he recognized.

The building was looking even worse in the rain. The last time he visited Musgrave Hall was with his brother Mycroft, trying to find John Watson in time. He remembered the sign of his friend, lying motionless and dehydrated on the cold floor of the basement. Slowly, the detective stepped closer, carefully opening the door of the house which once was his home. Inside, water was dropping from the damaged ceiling. The fire had destroyed most of the house, the only part which wasn't destroyed was the basement. Sherlock decided to step up the stairs, looking for his old room. Miraculously the stairs had survived most of the fire. When he reached the upper floor, he searched for his old room. He succeeded but the door to his room was cracked and rusted, so there was no chance he could open and enter. Sherlock looked around. There had to be something. Moriarty wouldn't have dropped him here, if there wasn't a game to play. The detective walked around, making sure he was entering just the parts which hadn't been destroyed by the fire. As he continued to look for hints, Mycroft's room appeared. It turned out to be open. Sherlock stepped in and stopped. There on the walls was a message. "He knows," the detective read out loud. "What does he know? Another mystery I have to find out? Another game from Moriarty? Or Eurus?"

Sherlock looked around, but there was nothing to be seen. Just a rat who got scared by his size ran away. He left the room and decided to have a look at Eurus' former room. She had known Moriarty since her early childhood, so maybe he had left the clues somewhere else. When he stopped in front of her room, Sherlock sighed. Thinking of his sister gave him goose bumps. He remembered nothing of his sister's room. He had been there only once as a little child and when she had cut the head off of his beloved cuddly toy, he knew where not to go. It was the only memory he had of his sister at all. Now he was standing in front of the burned door, sighing deeply. He didn't know what to expect, but he prepared himself for the worst. Slowly he opened the door and entered the room. The fire had burned almost everything in the room. A few pieces of his sister's drawings were still lying on the ground. The dust was floating around and he began to cough. The dust diminished a little and his gaze fell to the wall in front of him. There was a phrase written on the wall. Sherlock needed to take a closer look at it. Was this fresh colour or had it been written there many years before? He walked through the bunch of ashes and examined the wall. "It's fresh colour," he realized. Carefully he stepped backwards, his eyes never leaving the wall in front of him. When he was once again at the entrance of Eurus' room, he was at a loss. On the wall someone had written the words 'He knows'. Again, Sherlock found himself irritated and without a plan. He wasn't used to this. He was a detective. He always had a plan. That's what he thought all these years. Now his family proved him wrong. "Who is he? What does he know?" the detective asked himself. Sherlock decided to check his parent's room as well. It was a strange feeling to intrude the room, which he was never allowed to enter. Now, after so many years, he would see this room for the first time. Slowly he opened the door and when he looked inside, his eyes grew wide. In front of him, on the ruins of his parent's bed, were photos. Sherlock stepped closer and stared at them, mouth wide open. He could see another picture of his wounded heart, there was a picture of strangled uncle Rudy, another photo showed him breaking his brother's fingers. The next picture showed his sister lying dead on the ground with her brains blown out. This picture reminded him of the rooftop, when Moriarty had shot himself in front of him. There were so many pictures on the bed, reflecting his whole life. Between the photos was a picture of Redbeard, which he had drawn as a child. While looking through the pictures, another one caught his eye. It showed him and Victor as children. Sherlock tried to supress the tears, which were forming in his eyes. The hurt of the loss of his friend was still too deep. He put the picture aside and checked the other pictures. Another one got his attention. It showed his brother Mycroft and him as little boys. But it wasn't a friendly picture. It was a memory of the day when his older brother was forced to drown him. The detective was reliving his whole life in less than five minutes. A lot of supressed memories were slowly rising, trying to tell him something. The detective tried to fight it but this time he had no chance.

There was this one special room in his mind palace. It was the very first room he created when he got older and needed 'more space' on his hard drive. This one room was holding the memories of his childhood. Normally, the door was locked. Sherlock wanted to make sure that he never had to remember again. Now he discovered that the lock on this door was broken and he was somehow forced to go inside. In front of him was a writing desk with an old Microsoft computer on it. He sat down at the table and pressed the button of the old device. It switched to life and a folder came in sight. When Sherlock opened it, a lot of other folders greeted him. All were named after things he had experienced in his childhood. A folder with the name 'top secret' got his attention and he opened it. There were pictures in it and a video as well. Sherlock hesitated for a moment then pressed the play button.

The video started with him and Victor playing outside in the garden. There was nothing suspicious here. They were both laughing and their faces full of happiness and joy. Suddenly a storm was rising and young Holmes was now standing somewhere in the basement. He could see his younger self hiding behind a wall. Two people were having a conversation.

"You will never tell anyone! Never, you hear me?" a female child warned.

"I… I promise," the other voice replied and Sherlock got goosebumps. The second voice belonged to Victor! Why the hell was he in the basement? And why is his voice full of anxiety?

The movie had stopped and the mind palace, too. The detective was standing in his parent's room, in front of him the many pictures of his life, leaving him totally irritated and confused. "Victor was threatened by a girl, which I assume was my sister." He grabbed the photo of him and Victor smiling in the camera. "What did you see Victor? What was it you weren't allowed to tell anyone?" Sherlock decided it was worth the try to visit the basement one more time. If Moriarty was triggering him that much, there had to be another piece of the puzzle somewhere in this building. Sherlock left the room and ran down the stairs, searching for the basement. He found the big iron door and took the steps faster than possible. With a loud crash he landed with his butt on the hard floor. "Damn that hurt," he hissed while getting up and rubbing his butt. It was dark and he could hear the dripping of waterdrops on the ground. He only made a few steps, when suddenly an all-familiar song was echoing through the basement.

'I am that lost, oh who will find me? Deep down below the old beech tree…'

Alarmed, Sherlock looked around. If someone was about to attack him, he wanted to be prepared. He listened to his surroundings but couldn't hear anything. Slowly he started to head in the direction where the sound was coming from. The song was coming from the right side of the basement and finally he found the right room. There was no door left, so Sherlock was able to observe the room without the need to enter it. Eurus' song was coming from an old stereo system, the repeat button was glowing. There was a static noise reverberating through the room as well and the detective assumed it was from a TV. When he was sure no danger was waiting for him, he entered. First of all, he decided to stop the CD in the stereo system. The voice of his sister making him sick and therefore he had to stop it. The moment he stopped the CD, the TV turned on and when Sherlock looked at it, his sister appeared on the screen.

"Now that's coming as a surprise to you, Sherlock. Am I right?"

"Well, kind of, yes," the detective mumbled.

"Well, don't worry. I am not real. Not anymore. I made this video a few years ago. Moriarty was lending me a helping hand here. His plans are always so brilliant Sherlock. I am sure you will never be able to beat him. I know more about this man than you do, brother."

"Just tell me, what you want from me," Sherlock whispered.

"So, I guess you found the photos upstairs, which Moriarty had left out for you."

"What is your plan?" he thought while listening to the tape.

"I am sure the triggering was enough to take you back to your childhood, am I right? Well, you wouldn't be standing here now if I wasn't right." Eurus was laughing.

Sherlock just stood there and waited for the final blow. John and Hailey were dead, his family torn apart, so what else was there to come? The only mission he needed to end now was finding Moriarty and making sure this nightmare would end. He had sworn it to John.

"Let's see, what you can remember. I am sure you can remember Redbeard and I'm also sure you know who burned the house. But did you find out about Victor's secret yet? What are you going to say if I tell you that Mycroft and Victor shared a secret together?"

Sherlock's mouth felt open.

Eurus seemed to see his face, "Now that came as a surprise. Maybe it's time to tell you the part, that you are still missing:

It was a beautiful day in the middle of July, I guess. You and Victor were playing pirates again and I was as always bored to the core. The laughing of your friend made me sick, so I decided to have some fun, too. There was this new boy at your school. Do remember him?"

Sherlock was trying to think of that time and looked up, "Yes. Yes, I remember. His name was David. A very nice and religious boy. Victor and I were trying to build a friendship with him, while the others in school were avoiding him."

"David was such a nice guy and while he was without friends it was even easier to get his trust. One day, you and Victor were playing in the garden, I was meeting with David in our house. He was so shy and I really started to like him. Poor, poor boy."

"He died of natural causes," Sherlock whispered.

"Everyone thought, he died of natural causes. Now here comes the true story, Sherlock. David and I were playing Hide and Seek in the basement. First of all, he liked the game but soon he found himself fighting for his life. While you and Victor were playing in the garden, I punched this innocent child in the sternum. There is one spot in your body, that if hit correctly, the heart will stop beating instantly and can't be revived. David was lying there on the ground, slowly dying from his failing heart. His eyes staring at me, full of fear. Well, what I never expected was your friend Victor Trevor, who had accidentally hit the ball you were playing with through an open window in the basement come searching for the missing item. He unfortunately surprised me."

"No…" Sherlock tried to catch his breath.

"I will never forget those eyes. Full of horror. Poor little child, so young and innocent and already a witness to murder."

"What did you do Eurus?" he whispered, trying to supress the urge to vomit.

I knew, this little boy wasn't going anywhere without a conversation, so we talked. I told him to shut his mouth and never tell anyone. He stayed silent as promised but I had to make sure it stays this way. Do you remember when I pushed him in the well? That was the moment I was making sure, he would never tell anyone."

"He was only a child!" Sherlock screamed, grabbed the wooden chair next to him and threw it at the wall. "An innocent child… And how is Mycroft involved in this whole thing?"

"Still so many unanswered questions in your mind, Sherlock. Couldn't you figure it out by yourself? Of course, I told Mycroft what happened after the body was taken away. I needed it to look like David collapsed and I was trying to save his life. So, I started to call for help. Isn't that simple? After I warned your best friend and sent him away, I screamed as loud as I could. Mycroft was the first to arrive and when he asked me what happened, I told him what I did. Just that simple. And I also told him, that Victor knew, too."

"My brother knew it all the time?" he asked confused.

"Did you really think we could have risked Victor bringing shame on our family by letting someone know, what I did?"

Sherlock's eyes widened and he was fighting to catch his breath. The news was too much to take and he sank to the ground, his eyes staring at his sister's face on the TV. Sobs were now shaking his body and his hands were trembling.

"Guess, I just won the game 'sinking ship'," Eurus giggled.

"Why Mycroft? Why did you do this?" the detective continued to sob.

"We had a long discussion as how to go on with Victor. Mycroft still cared about you a lot, so we decided to do nothing, until Victor changed in his behaviour drastically. Well, unfortunately he changed too fast and so we had no other option as to silence him forever. And to make sure you would never remember him, we developed the plan to kill him in front of you."

"No! That's a lie! Mycroft would never do such an evil thing. Never!"

"Ask him. You will be surprised I suppose."

Sherlock rose from the cold floor, and walked towards the TV. His face was contorting in anger now and his whole body trembling. He was just about to destroy the screen, when it turned completely black. For a moment he was irritated and stood there, waiting. Nothing happened and so he stepped out of the room, rethinking the things he was told.

"Tick, tick, tick…"

A familiar sound emitted from the left side of the big basement and he followed it.

"Sherlock. Oh Sherlock. The clock is ticking. You should hurry."

The detective followed the voice of Moriarty and found himself soon standing in the room where his friend nearly had died. The room was decorated with a TV now and the camera which once filmed John in his misery, was now focused on him. Sherlock stepped closer and the TV switched to life. Moriarty appeared on the screen and the detective thought he was in a nightmare.

"Did you miss me?"

"Should I?" Sherlock replied calmly. Moriarty was smiling at him.

"Heard you had some rough moments."

"Could have been worse," the detective answered with a steady voice.

"I am glad we finally meet again."

"Why aren't you here? I thought we would face each other for a final fight."

"Oh, it's too early for that Sherlock. But I promise you, we will meet again."

"I can't wait for it."

"Believe me, it's going to be brilliant Sherlock. You and me, once again."

Sherlock was walking around, "Why not now?"

"Because you have to solve at least one more problem."

"No problem. Tell me. I am prepared."

"Matthew 8:25 'The disciples went and woke him, saying, "Lord, save us! We're going to drown!' That's all I have for you Sherlock. Good luck!"

The screen went black and Sherlock stood there in silence. He was walking up and down the room, thinking about Moriarty's words. The detective opened up his mind palace and started a mind map, collecting everything he got into touch:

People, water, wet, breathless, cold, swimming pool, bomb, John Watson as bait, gun, Moriarty, mobile, staying alive, Bee Gees, flood, sewage-system, drowning, Redbeard, Victor, dying, well...

Suddenly it hit Sherlock like thunder and he ran out of the room. He hurried up the stairs, sprinted through the big entrance hall, pushed the door open and bumped into Mycroft Holmes…