Chapter Seventy-Eight

The sound of his mobile phone vibrating against the top of the wooden bedside cabinet, right beside his head, wormed its way into Sherlock's sleep befuddled brain and he reached out, blindly, groping around until his hand happened across the object and he grabbed it, bringing it to his ear.

'Mumph?' he grunted before realising that the phone was still vibrating.

He waved it in front of his face, squinting at the screen to locate the green 'Answer' button then prodded it with his thumb and tried again.

'Mumph.'

'Good morning,' said Molly.

'Mmmmm, is it?' he mumbled in reply.

'Is it good or is it morning?' she asked, for clarification.

'Both' he huffed.

'Well, it's definitely morning. How are you?'

That was a searching question. How was he? Having spent the night in his childhood single bed, which appeared to have shrunk in both length and breadth since his teenage years, made up with itchy Buck Rogers bedlinen – also from his childhood – he certainly wasn't feeling particularly rested. His mouth was thick from smoking so many cigarettes the day before, his head ached, probably from stress, and every joint in his body protested at even the slightest movement. It had been a tough twenty-four hours.

'I'm fine,' he replied, having just about regained full control of his lingual muscles.

'How's your mum?' Molly asked.

'Not good, obviously, but actually its not her I'm particularly worried about.'

'No?'

'No. I'm far more concerned for my father. You know, not two minutes after the doctor left yesterday, the landline rang. It was one of the WI Politburo. Someone had spotted the doctor's car parked in the lay-by next to what they thought was an undertaker's car and, putting two and two together, came up with five. So, they were ringing to find out which of my parents had died.'

'Oh, dear,' Molly replied, stifling a chuckle.

'Anyway, after I put them straight, they went into action! Within an hour, they'd set up Base Camp in my parents' kitchen and organised a round-the-clock rota of bedside hand-holders, loaded the freezer with enough home-cooked pies and casseroles to feed an army for a year and Spring-cleaned the house from top to bottom.'

'Really?' Molly exclaimed.

'Well, no. I lied about that last bit. They didn't clean the house. But who knows what today might bring?'

'How is your dad?'

Sherlock's long pause spoke volumes, then:

'My mother has this huge support network of friends and acquaintances from the WI, ready to rush to her aid at the drop of a hat pin. But what does Pa have?'

Molly had no idea.

'He has the postman, with whom he exchanges a few pleasantries each morning, and the woman from the mobile library, which stops in the lay-by once a fortnight.'

'Is that it?'

'That's it.'

'No friends?'

'It would appear not.'

'Oh, dear.'

'Mycroft has this grand plan that, once Musgrave Hall is refurbished and fit for human habitation, Ma and Pa will go and live there – either in the main house or in the gate house. And, actually, I think Pa would love to live there, to end his days where they began. But Mummy will never agree to it. There's no way she would leave behind all her friends… why would she? She has everything she needs here. And Pa wouldn't dream of going without her. So, he's trapped here, in this lonely life.'

It was heart-warming to hear Sherlock expound the virtues of friendship in this way. Molly was proud to have played even a small part in the process that had brought him to this point, along with Greg Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and John Watson.

Other factors had contributed, too, of course. Learning the truth about his early life and particularly his friendship with Victor, realising that he was once a normal little boy – a particularly bright and intelligent one but one equipped with a full range of emotions - had had a profound impact. That epiphany had opened him up to the possibility that he could become that person again. To see this realisation manifest itself in concern for his father's social isolation was the icing on the cake. As a first step along that road to a normal emotional life, it boded well for future.

And Molly was determined to give him – well, both of them - all the help and encouragement she could.

'What about the line dancing? Does he have any friends from that?' she queried.

'I imagine he has made some passing acquaintances. And, no doubt, once Mummy's hip heals and she's mobile again, they'll be off doing the rounds of the line dancing jamborees, once more. I'm sure he derives a great deal of pleasure from that. But that's not here and now…'

Molly could almost hear him shrugging.

'How about golf?' she suggested. 'Is there a golf club nearby? Perhaps he could join it and make some friends through a shared hobby? Or a local birding group? Or…Oh! He loves long walks in the countryside. You could try googling walking groups in the area. Or maybe a photography club? He used to have that cine camera, didn't he? Is he still interested in that sort of thing?'

Molly's brainstorming was on a roll, throwing out ideas for the enhancement of Siger's social life in all directions. Sherlock was in awe of her imagination.

'You are amazing,' he chuckled.

'Are you taking the piss?' she asked.

'Not at all!' he insisted. 'What time is it?'

'Er…eight o'clock. What's the plan for today?'

'Well, I don't think Mummy will be requiring our services; not now she has her entourage around her, fulfilling her every need. So, I thought I might take Pa to the pub.'

'Oh, Sherlock! I think that's an excellent idea!' Molly was seriously impressed. 'I'm sure he would love that.' What man wouldn't enjoy a trip to the pub with his son?

'It wasn't my idea,' he confessed. 'I asked John what he would do to treat his father – if he had one, which of course he doesn't, not anymore.'

Molly felt tears prick her eyes. Sherlock's social development had been severely impeded! There was a lot of ground to make up but he was trying. Really hard.

'Well, you consulted the right person,' she declared. 'How is John, by the way?'

'Busy…apparently.'

'Oh?' She was intrigued. 'Doing what, exactly?'

'I didn't ask for details but I believe Mary 2.0 is involved.'

'Sherlock…' she chided.

'Oh, sorry. What should I call her?'

'Just 'Mary', perhaps?'

'Hmmm. What about 'New Mary'? To avoid confusion?'

'Let's give it some thought,' Molly suggested. 'Anyway, the trip to the pub is a lovely idea.'

'I'm glad you approve,' he smiled. 'Oh, I think I hear Pa coming up the stairs…'

Molly heard the sound of a knock and a door opening and recognised Siger's voice but couldn't quite make out the words.

Sherlock's response was perfectly audible.

'Morning, Pa.'

There was more inaudible speech then Sherlock replied,

'Oh, thank you. I'll be down in a moment.'

'Tell him I said, 'Hi',' Molly prompted.

'Molly says 'hello',' he relayed.

'Oh, hi, Molly!' Siger called, then, 'Bye, Molly!' and she heard the door close again.

'I should go,' said Sherlock. 'He's made breakfast. And brought me a cup of tea. And left me a dressing gown.'

'Yes, you should go. Ring me later, yeah?'

'I will,' he replied.

'Have a nice trip to the pub.'

'I'll let you know how it goes.'

'Miss you.'

There was a bit of a pause, then,

'I miss you, too,' he replied, with deep sincerity. 'More than I could ever have imagined. I will call you later.'

ooOoo

'Are you sure you want to do this?' asked Charlotte.

Eurus frowned, pensively, then said,

'Yes, I think I do.'

'Then you should probably call Mycroft.'

'Oh. Could you do that?'

'I could, yes, but…'

'Oh, thank you!' squealed Eurus, planting a wet kiss on Charlotte's cheek before scurrying off into the bathroom to jump in the shower.

Charlotte sighed. Eurus was still having trouble engaging with Mycroft.

He had called in, the day before on his way back to London after dropping Eve Matthews at her home not far away, to bring them news of how the meeting with the Holmes's parents had gone and to find out what transpired at the River House. Throughout their conversation, Eurus only spoke to him directly if he addressed her first and she couldn't look at him at all. Mycroft was obviously aware of this and he seemed to understand, even accept, the status quo. But it was clear that it hurt him, deeply.

He was trying his best to make up for being Rudi's stooge, all these years, not least by insisting that the Government compensate Eurus in the form of reparations and it was likely to be a seven-figure sum.

Charlotte would need to bring this matter to the attention of Xander McKenzie, Eurus's therapist. But, right now, she had a phone call to make.

'Good morning, Mycroft,' she said, when he picked up.

'Good morning, Ms…Charlotte. How may I be of service?'

'Eurus wants to go and see her mother. We were wondering if you could provide transport?'

Mycroft was stunned into silence for several seconds – a very rare occurrence. It wasn't easy to surprise the British Government.

'Er…well…yes, of course,' he stuttered. 'I assume she wants to go today?'

'Yes, indeed,' Charlotte confirmed. 'She's getting ready right now.'

'Oh! Well, in that case, I'd better send my own car. I'll let our parents know to expect you…'

'Actually, she would prefer you didn't do that? She wants it to be a surprise.'

'Ah,' he replied. Then, after some consideration, 'Very well. I'll send my car – it should be with you in about an hour. The driver knows the address. He will take you there and wait in the lay-by until you're ready to return.'

'Thank you, Mycroft. We really appreciate your help...and your hospitality, you and Alicia. You have both been incredibly kind and generous. And Eurus appreciates it too, even though she doesn't appear to.'

'Well,' Mycroft replied, 'it's the least we can do, all things considered, but thank you for letting me know.'

He said his goodbyes and closed the call but not before Charlotte noted a slight catch in his voice. The poor man was clearly suffering. Charlotte hoped he would be seeking some professional counselling, too. That Eve Matthews had a good head on her shoulders, she thought. Mycroft could do a lot worse than book a few sessions with her.

'Did he say yes?' Eurus enquired, eagerly, when Charlotte put her head round the bathroom door to deliver the news.

'Yes, he said yes,' she confirmed.

'Yippee!' Eurus crowed, almost slipping over in the shower in her delight. 'Oh!' she added, suddenly sobering. 'What should I wear?'

'Hmmm…' Charlotte hummed, moving into the bathroom and sitting on the toilet lid. 'You should wear that woollen dress, the rose pink one. You look lovely in that.'

'Yes,' Eurus nodded, sagely.

Standing under the shower, with water cascading off her shoulders and trickling down over her small, firm breasts and smooth, slender hips, she put Charlotte in mind of Botticelli's Venus, emerging from the sea, fully formed. She was mesmerised by Eurus's youthful beauty. She wondered how anyone so exquisite could possibly fall in love with a dowdy dowager such as herself.

'Get in this shower and I'll show you,' said Eurus, reading Charlotte's mind through her eyes alone.

She didn't wait to be asked again.

ooOoo

Sherlock hadn't spoken to his mother since the confrontation the day before. She had been assisted upstairs to her bedroom by Siger and Eve and there she had remained. Until now.

'Careful, careful…'

'Don't fuss, dear, I'm absolutely fine…'

'No…Let Nina go first. Yes, that's it. Just in case…'

'Ingrid, I've lived in this house long enough to know my own stairs. I really don't need…'

'Yes, Maura, but you may be a little drowsy from the medication? Better to be safe than sorry…'

She didn't sound very drowsy to Sherlock. He monitored the verbal exchange between his mother and her minders as they shepherded her down the stairs and into the kitchen, bound for the arm chair by the Aga.

'Oh, hello, dear!' Maura exclaimed on catching sight of him. 'I didn't know you were still here. Is your brother here, too?'

'No, Mummy,' he replied, crossing the room and bending down to kiss her on the cheek. 'His presence was urgently required back in London.'

'And what about you?' she asked.

'Me?' he enquired.

'Weren't you required back in London?'

'Not urgently, no.'

'Well, it's always nice to have a bit of your time,' his mother concluded. She sounded almost like her old self but the strain was evident in the lines of her face. She appeared to have aged several years, overnight.

Ingrid, who was obviously the senior hand-holder present, and her sidekick, Nina, were busying themselves clearing the breakfast table and preparing to wash the dishes when Siger appeared at the kitchen door, carrying Maura's breakfast tray that he'd just brought down from the bedroom.

'Oh, ladies, you really don't need to do that!' he exclaimed.

'It's our pleasure,' Ingrid insisted. 'Here, give me those,' she added, as she appropriated the tray.

'Let them get on with it, Siger,' Maura ordered. 'Perhaps you could make me a cup of tea?'

'Allow me,' Sherlock interjected, lifting the kettle off the Aga and taking it over to the sink to fill it. Begging her pardon, he reached past Nina, resplendent in the marigolds, to hold the kettle under the running tap, saying, 'Pa, you sit down. You've been on your feet all morning.'

The tension between his parents was quite apparent. Maura hadn't yet forgiven her husband for his forensic dissection of her brother's character the day before but Siger was bearing her disapprobation stoically.

'What are you going to do with yourself today?' Maura asked Sherlock, none too chuffed with him, either.

'I thought I'd accompany Pa on his walk,' Sherlock replied, assembling a collection of mugs to fill with tea, having established that Nina and Ingrid would love a cuppa too, thank you very much.

'Oh, that's nice,' Maura replied. 'He could do to get some fresh air. And we don't want him under our feet, do we, ladies?' she exclaimed, still keeping up the acerbic banter as if everything was hunky-dory though, inside, her heart was utterly shattered.

The kettle boiled, the tea was made then poured and the three ladies chatted amongst themselves while Sherlock watched his father watching his mother, through hooded eyes in a face lined with care. Once the tea was drunk, Maura enquired,

'Is the fire lit in the Snug?'

'Yes, my dear,' Siger replied, 'It should be nice and cosy in there, now.'

'Good. Help me up, will you, Daddy?'

Siger helped her out of the chair and along to the Snug, to settle her into her favourite spot, in the comfy chair.

'Will you be alright, if I take a walk with Sherlock?' Siger asked.

'Yes,' she replied, giving him a weak smile. 'The ladies will see me right. And I'm sorry I've been short with you, my darling. I'm still…you know…'

'I know,' he replied, bending down to take her in his arms for a warm, comforting hug. 'We'll get over this, my love,' he assured her and she nodded, hopefully.

Sherlock was in the corridor by the front door, pulling on the wellington boots borrowed from his father, when Siger came out of the Snug. While his Pa changed into his walking boots, he donned his coat and scarf then helped Siger on with his waxed jacket and they were ready to depart, all without exchanging a single word. At the end of the path, they turned right and set off along the lane, following Mr Holmes's usual circular route.

They were well away from the house before Siger broke the silence.

'She's really hurting,' he said, at last.

'I know, Pa, but Dr Matthews believes it was the lesser of two evils. She said she could have broken Rudi's conditioning but it would have taken far too long and time was of the essence.'

'Yes, son. We are neither of us spring chickens.'

He sighed and they walked on, Sherlock wondering what he might say to make his father feel better.

'You did it for her, Pa,' he said, in the end.

Siger stopped in his tracks, as Sherlock continued on alone for a couple of strides before applying the brakes and turning around.

'Actually, I didn't,' Siger said.

'No?'

'No, son, I didn't,' the old man replied. Then looking directly into Sherlock's eyes, he said, 'I did it for you.'

Sherlock was lost for words. This was not what he had expected to hear. He stood in the road, wondering how to reply…or even think.

Seeing his son's dilemma, Siger stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder.

'It's alright, Sherlock, I'm not blaming you for anything. I just want the truth to be known. There've been too many lies, too much obfuscation. Come,' he said, slipping his arm through the crook of Sherlock's elbow. 'Let's walk.'

They walked on, arm in arm, as Siger explained.

'Your mother and I made a terrible error of judgment, trusting your uncle, and we've paid a heavy price. But nothing compared to the cost to all of you. Just how great a cost was confirmed to me in the kitchen, yesterday, when I confronted you about your motives for coming here. When I looked at you, I saw your six-year-old self looking back. And I realised that everything you've been through – all the drugs, the dangerous situations you've put yourself in, all the times you've nearly died – it was just your way of trying to deal with the fact that your parents failed to protect you from a psychopath.

And that was really down to me, indulging your mother's fantasy about her wonderful brother. Because, believe me, Sherlock, I knew what Rudi was. I didn't realise just how far he was prepared to go to get his way but I knew he was a self-serving, manipulative narcissist. And it had gone on long enough. Yesterday, I knew the day had come when I had to face up to my responsibilities and be the grown-up.

So, I did it for you and Mycroft and Eurus…and I take no credit for it because it was thirty-three years too late.'

He stopped talking and they walked on, the only sound being that of the wind in the surrounding trees and hedges and the crunch of their footsteps in the loose gravel as they strode in unison along the road. They were approaching the centre of the village, with a large playing field with goal posts on one side and a short row of cottages on the other, and the Hurstwood public house at the end of the row. Sherlock stopped by the entrance to the pub and his father gave him an enquiring look.

'Fancy a pint?' Sherlock asked.

Siger looked genuinely surprised and then barked a laugh.

'I don't know about a pint,' he exclaimed. 'I'd be peeing myself all the way home if I had one of those but a shot of Irish whiskey wouldn't go amiss. They do a delicious 21-year Bushmills Single Malt in here. It tastes like liquid heaven!'

Bushmills, thought Sherlock, the Garidebs' home town. There was a strange kind of symmetry to that.

'After you, Pa,' he said, holding the door for his father to enter ahead of him.

ooOoo

'Is this it?' asked Eurus, gazing out of the car window at a broad, low building with a thatched roof, set in a wrap-around garden, bordered by a picket fence.

'Yes, madam,' the driver confirmed.

'Wow. It's so small,' she exclaimed. 'How on earth did they all fit in there?'

Eurus's knowledge of domestic architecture was seriously limited, namely Musgrave Hall, Rudi's 'castle', Charlotte's Edinburgh town house and Alicia's Arts and Crafts villa. She had assumed that this was the norm for 'People Like Us', seeing Sherlock's pokey little flat and the therapist's suburban semi as the exception rather than the rule.

'What do you want to do?' Charlotte asked.

'Oh, I want to see her,' Eurus declared.

The driver got out of the vehicle and walked round to open the rear passenger door, offering his hand to assist the ladies out.

'I will park at the end of the lane,' he advised them. 'When you're ready to leave, just text me and I'll drive up and collect you.'

'What will you do while we're in there?' Eurus asked.

'I'll be waiting in the car, madam,' the driver replied.

'Oh! That's not very fair!' Eurus was concerned. 'We could be here for hours. Isn't there a pub or something you could go to? It's too cold to be sitting in a car.'

'There is a pub in the village, madam,' the driver confirmed.

'Then you go there and get a cup of coffee or something…and a pub lunch.' Eurus had learned about 'pub lunches' on Facebook. Apparently people had them for the express purpose of posting images of their food on their timelines. Why, she had no idea.

'Very well, madam. Thank you kindly,' the driver replied and, getting back into the vehicle, he drove off down the lane.

Eurus stood by the gate at the end of the garden path, surveying the front of the house.

'Are you ready?' Charlotte asked.

'Yes,' she replied and, walking resolutely up to the front door, she rapped on the wood with her knuckles.

ooOoo

'Maura?' said Ingrid, standing in the doorway to the Snug and looking more than a little concerned.

Maura, dozing in her chair, sleeping off the latent effects of the sedative the doctor had given her, startled awake and looked around, briefly disorientated.

'Yes? What is it?' she asked, realising where she was.

'There are two ladies at the door. They're here to see you.'

'Two ladies? What two ladies? They're not Jehovah's Witnesses, are they? Tell them I'm an atheist, that usually does the trick.'

'No, dear, they're not Jehovah's Witnesses. One of them says she's your daughter…'

Maura's heart seemed to stop dead as a steel band wrapped itself around her chest and squeezed. She had never told any of her friends about her long-lost daughter – not when she thought Eurus was dead, nor when she learned she was alive but in prison, or after she was released. But none of that mattered now.

'Eurus…? Here…? Now…?' she gasped, pushing frantically at the tartan blanket across her knees and attempting to scramble out of the chair.

'Yes, Eurus! That's what she said her name was. Do you know her?' Ingrid was quite discombobulated by this entirely unexpected turn of events but her WI disaster management training kicked in and she rushed to Maura's aid. 'Don't get up, Maura! You stay right there. No need for you to be rushing around. I'll bring them to you…'

Maura took that advice and relaxed back into her chair, though she didn't really have much choice in the matter since her legs – indeed her entire body - was shaking so violently she doubted she would have been able to stand, anyway.

Ingrid disappeared from view and Maura heard some muffled speech from the hallway then the door to the Snug was pushed wide and there she was…

Eurus appeared in the doorway looking absolutely nothing like the person Maura had last seen, playing violin duets with Sherlock in that ghastly glass prison cell. Gone was the gaunt figure with a mass of wild hair, dressed in a plain white prison uniform. In its place was a boyish young woman, with a mop of short, dark curls framing a heart-shaped, elfin face, and a neat, slim figure in a dusky pink, woollen dress

'Oh, my sweet baby!' Maura bleated, like a lost lamb.

'Mummy?' Eurus wailed in reply and, running forward, threw herself into her mother's open arms, both women sobbing uncontrollably while Charlotte and Ingrid looked on, one misty eyed with emotion, the other open-mouthed with astonishment.

ooOoo

'You know, all your mother ever wanted was a family. She had such a difficult childhood, losing both her parents in close succession very early in her life and being left with just a much older brother who, in her eyes, became father, mentor and saviour, all rolled into one.'

Seated at a small round table in a corner of the Public Bar of The Hurstwood, with a log fire crackling in the open grate nearby and the usual Saturday crowd of farm labourers and walkers scattered about the room or propping up the bar, father and son were enjoying each other's company over a warming glass of Single Malt. Sherlock had never heard his father talk so frankly and openly about anything, let alone his relationship with their mother. He knew that was probably his fault. He had never made himself available for these sorts of father-son conversations. But that was definitely going to change from now on.

'After we married, it was an easy decision for her to give up her academic career to become a housewife and mother. It was her dream come true. I knew Rudi didn't approve. I thought it was just me – a lowly engineer – that he didn't like but now I realise that, whomsoever your mother had chosen to marry, no one could have earned Rudi's favour.

But, despite being delighted at the prospect of motherhood, Mummy struggled with the reality of it. You see, she had no role models. She barely remembered her own mother and there were no sisters, aunts or cousins to advise and assist her. Mycroft was a very undemanding baby, too, but your mother suffered terribly with post-natal depression, which nobody seemed to know much about, all those years ago. New mothers were expected to fall instantly in love with their new-borns and devote themselves joyfully and tirelessly to meeting their every need.

I was still working then and there was no such thing as Paternity Leave. We dads weren't allowed anywhere near the delivery room, back then. And we didn't even get a day off to drive our wives and new babies home from the hospital, So, I'm sorry to say, I was not a lot of use around the home, much as I would've loved to be a hands-on dad.

That's why there's such a big gap between Mycroft and you. I didn't want your mother to have to go through all that again, so we agreed that one baby was enough.'

Siger chuckled at the memory of Young Mycroft, who grew like a beanstalk, but in all directions at once.

'You can't even imagine our surprise when you came along – our little Menopause Baby,' he chuckled again. 'But you were a completely different kettle of fish.'

Sherlock was intrigued to learn what his Pa meant by that.

'For a start, you never slept. Or, at least, if you did, it was for about five minutes at a time, max! I think you invented Power Napping!'

Sherlock shrugged apologetically. It seems he had been a pain in the arse from Day One.

'And you had a pair of lungs that could rattle the windows in the next parish! But, fortunately, by that time I was self-employed, working from home, so I could do my fair share of baby wrangling. And, thankfully, the PND didn't put in an appearance, which probably explains Eurus – our second Menopause Baby! And she was completely different again. Considering you all came from the same gene pool, you have each turned out so unique.'

Siger was obviously immensely proud of his family, despite all the trouble they had caused him.

'Eurus was always an old soul in a young body. She used to look at us in such a manner as to make it seem she could read our every thought. Such a precocious child.' He sighed in remembrance. 'It's so good to have her back in our lives.'

Sherlock had been listening so intently to his father, he was oblivious to anything going on in the room but now, looking around, he was surprised to see a familiar figure standing at the bar.

'That's Mycroft's driver!' he exclaimed. 'What's he doing here?'

Getting up, he crossed the room and tapped the chauffeur on the shoulder to gain his attention.

'Is my brother here?' he asked.

'Ah, good afternoon, Mr Holmes,' said the startled driver. 'No, sir, not your brother. I've just dropped Ms Holmes and Ms Storer at your parents' house. They told me to wait here and order some lunch so I gather they are intending to stay for a while.'

Curious to know what was going on, Siger had come alongside and was equally surprised by the news.

'Eurus is here?' he gasped.

'Yes, sir,' the driver confirmed.

'We should get back,' said Sherlock but Siger held up a cautionary hand.

'No,' he said. 'Let's give them some time together, This could be just what your mother needs to show her that learning the truth about Rudi wasn't such a bad thing, after all.'

Leaving the driver to order his lunch, Sherlock and Siger returned to their table, necked the remains of their drinks, donned their coats, scarves and gloves and exited the pub to resume their walk. It would take the best part of an hour to get back to the cottage which would, hopefully, give Maura and Eurus plenty of time alone together. It remained to be seen how well that went.

ooOoo

As father and son approached the front door to the cottage, all seemed calm and serene. There were no raised voices or any sign that hostilities had broken out in this quiet little corner of West Sussex. Siger and Sherlock removed their muddy footwear on the doorstep and entered the house cautiously…to hear the sound of laughter coming from the Snug. Siger pushed open the door and was greeted with the sight of Eurus in the leather armchair, pulled right up beside the comfy chair, leaning over, holding both her mother's hands. The two women turned to see who had entered.

'Siger! Look who's here!' Maura exclaimed.

'Daddy!' gasped Eurus, jumping up and rushing into her father's arms.

Sherlock, hanging back in the hallway, looked on as father and daughter hugged, and felt a gentle rivulet of relief trickle through him. His Pa had been right, once again. They were going to get through this. The Holmes family would survive - and maybe even thrive.

ooOoo

Apologies for the Jehovah's Witnesses comment. It's just what Maura would say!

I feel the end is nigh. The next chapter will probably be the last! :(