A/N: In the following chapter, the brothers go their separate ways, each trying to tie up some loose ends on their own. More Mycroft/Sherlock interaction to come in the next chapter!

To Kathy G., the wonderful reviewer: I agree that John and Rosie are in desperate need of love. I will try to bring them in in the net chapter. I'm thinking of doing a one-shot about John's visit to Harry, since this story is mainly about the Holmes brothers. Any ideas would be welcome.

A general note to all wonderful readers: I deduce that you are enjoying the stories going by the number of hits, favorites and follows. Reviews are a bit low, however. I do need the feedback to inspire me and motivate me. So please, don't be shy! A special shout-out goes to wynnleaf, who reviewed almost every chapter. Your comments were food for thought and very welcome!

Chapter Nine

The final chords of their haunting duet lingered on in his mind as he entered the chopper that would take him off the island. Sherlock visited his newfound sister on a consistent basis, every Tuesday from 11 AM to 1 PM. He went alone, without Mycroft or his parent's. It was, he had told his brother, something he needed to do himself. That was more for is sake than his sister's, who barely took notice of anything around her. As he played, he would focus on his long buried memories, of a little girl in pigtails patiently teaching her curly haired brother how to play the violin.

Playing together again provided, if not some sort of closure, then at least a vehicle for expression of the emotional upheaval he was experiencing. He felt anger, loss, and betrayal warring with pity and compassion as he contemplated his sister's blank expression. He was glad that they were communicating through the safer method of music, rather than actual words. Music just had to be right, Eurus had said. That much he was capable of.

As Sherlock Holmes left the helicopter, he contemplated a different visit he would make that evening, one that made his stomach churn with anxiety. This time, he wouldn't be able to use musical notes as an escape. No amount of pretending, charming, or flirting would get him out of hot water. For once, he would need to actually say what he meant, and more importantly, mean what he said.

"Molly," he greeted the young woman who answered the door. "I hope my timing is not inconvenient for you."

"Not at all, Sherlock," the pathologist answered a tad anxiously. "It was, uh, good of you to call ahead. Not that I would have minded otherwise," she added quickly. "I just mean... maybe you should just come inside."

"Gladly. Thank you, Molly," Sherlock said quietly. It was the first time he saw her since the events at Sherrinford. He had purposely avoided her until now, only entering the morgue when she was off shift. With the encouraging words of his father and brother, he had taken this step, but not before asking John for advice, of course. John had urged him to just be himself, "Your newer self of course, I don't think she would appreciate the old one." Good old John, supportive yet honest to the point of being brutal. He just wished that his friend's advice would hold true.

Toby greeted him with claws out, yowling fiercely. "I'm just here for a little chat, old friend," he smiled at him, throwing a treat his way. It was good he had come prepared. "I'm not going to hurt anybody." He winced, knowing it was too late for that.

"Would you like some tea?" Molly inquired with her gentle lilt. "That would be appreciated," he answered politely. Molly showed him to the sofa and bustled about preparing the drink. She came back with a tray, and Sherlock began to talk. "You know why I'm here Molly, so I won't keep you."

"I do, Sherlock," she replied, looking him in the eye.

"I don't really know what to say, except that I'm sorry," he said awkwardly. "You were totally right. I am a bas***. I am also the biggest idiot in the world. You know how I always go on about people who see and don't observe. Well, I was blind, totally blind to your feelings. I took advantage of your giving nature. I used you, and gave nothing in return. I insulted you all the time without a second thought. I would understand it if you hate me now."

"I don't." Molly replied. "Maybe I should, but I don't."

"I know John told you about Sherrinford. I am sorry that you were targeted, but I am very glad you weren't hurt in the end, at least physically. I do hate that I was forced to make that phone call, that I ended up hurting you.

"I need you to understand one thing, Molly Hooper. I did not lie to you. I meant it. I meant every word. You know how I care about John, how I would do anything for him? Well, I love him in that way, even if it's not romantic. It's the same way I love my parents, and my other friends. You, Molly, are one of them. A very good and dear friend, although I never treated you like that. A friend that I trust with my life. I do not deserve to have you.

"And you, Molly, do not deserve to have me. You deserve so much better. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen, who will give you all the care and attention in the world. You deserve someone who will truly appreciate the very special qualities you have, Molly Hooper. You do not deserve to have someone like me inflicted on you, Molly Hooper."

"I agree." Sherlock started; he hadn't been expecting that. Molly's voice shook a little, but she continued on bravely. "In a way, I owe you a thank you. Your phone call led me to finally do something for myself. I've finally started doing something for myself. I realized then that I was destroying myself by holding on to a dream that would never become reality. I'm getting help now. Its helping me sort through everything." She swallowed and looked down.

"I'm glad we agree on something, " Sherlock tried to keep his tone light. "Its my fervent hope that you will find the happiness you're looking for."

"I never understood why I always ended up this way," she continued, as if she hadn't heard him. "Always running after you, no matter how many times you pushed me away. I'm starting to realize its as much my fault as yours. There's a reason I couldn't let go. I'm taking a break now, leaving on a holiday with some girlfriends. Not that kind of girlfriends, just, you know, friends. You were right then, when you told me not to pursue any relationships. I don't think I was ready. I hope I will be after I figure myself out. But I don't think you came here to hear me rambling on about myself. Are you alright, after, you know, all that happened?"

"I will be, after I figure out a few things myself. I know I have no right to ask for your friendship after everything, however I want you to know that I care about you no matter what. If you ever need me, I will be there for you, just as you have been there for me. I apologize for keeping you, Molly." He got up and went to the door, then turned to give her a wave. "Enjoy your holiday, and don't let anyone disturb your fun."

"Wait," Molly called out. "Sherlock Holmes, you silly git!" She hurried to the door and threw her arms around him. "You better be there when I come back, Mr. Holmes. St. Bart's just isn't the same without you."

Sherlock gently hugged her back. "Yes, Your Majesty. I'll miss you too, my queen," he winked at her, and left.

Eurus was still at it, haunting music streaming from her violin while she faced the wall. Nevertheless, Mycroft Holmes began speaking to her. It was time for him to confront his own demons.

"I don't know if you're listening to me, Eurus. I will say it either way." The music stopped suddenly. Eurus maintained her stance, still facing the wall, bow held stiffly in her hand.

"I tried. I will never know if I did the right thing, but I tried. I tried to save you from yourself in the only way I knew how. I locked you in this hell of a place so you could do no more harm. I gave you a chance to redeem yourself, by helping to save lives. Your assistance has saved hundreds of lives, maybe even thousands. But I know that didn't mean anything to you. It was all a game."

He continued, his voice breaking. "I don't know why you hurt Sherlock. All my life I was trying to prevent that, yet you didn't give up. You were obsessed with finishing the game you were playing with him. In trying to protect him, I hurt him. I lied to him. I taught him to stop caring, so that he wouldn't be hurt again. But you got to him anyway. I just wish you could have reached him without all the destruction you caused.

"I never told you this, because I didn't think it mattered. I care about you, Eurus. I always did. It breaks my heart to see you in this state. I had to shut down my emotions to not be vulnerable to your manipulations. But I tried to show you I cared in the only ways I could. I tried to give you purpose, to let you help other people. I let you meet with Moriarty, hoping it would quench your burning obsession with Sherlock. That was a mistake I am still paying for. Nonetheless, I gave you gifts, hoping you would somehow recognize in them signs of my caring.

"I always dreamed I would find a way to make you better. That didn't happen yet. You are locked in, not so much by the physical walls surrounding you as by the walls you have built in your own mind. Nobody has figured out how to release you from that. Our brother has found a path to reach you through a crack in the wall, and I am glad for that. I hope it alleviates your loneliness somewhat.

"You made your choices, yet I cannot be angry at you for that. I pity you for what your diseased mind has forced you to do. I know that you always viewed me as nothing more than a tool. You tried to use me to achieve your twisted goals. When you were finished, you didn't even bother killing me. Perhaps I was insignificant to you, compared to the final game you wanted to play. Perhaps you thought I will still have use to you. I sometimes wished you would at least get angry with me, so I would know that I mattered. But I don't.

"I can accept that. And I know that Sherlock does matter. That's why I am keeping a close eye on both of you. I will not let you hurt him again. For his sake and for yours, Eurus, I will put a stop to any games you may try to play. I may sound cruel, but this is the only way to save you both.

"Whether you care or not, I still love you, my little sister. You still break my heart, every single day. Goodbye, sister mine. I will be back to see you again."

Mycroft paused, sensing a change in his sister's stance. She slowly turned around. Her gaze found his. She held out the violin in front of her, silently staring. Mycroft held her gaze for a few seconds, trying to read her. "You're welcome," he said softly. "I'm glad you're enjoying the violin." His little sister began playing again, and he wondered if he had read her intentions right. As he left the room, she was still playing, still gazing at his back.