"Oh, for God's sake." Mycroft groaned. "I should have known Sherlock knew where Marie kept disappearing to in the last few months."
"Of course I knew." Sherlock snapped at the same time Marie scoffed: "Of course he knew."
"In fact," Sherlock continued with narrowed eyes on his brother, "I'm surprised this sister of mine knew it, but you didn't."
Mycroft rubbed his forehead, exhausted and aggravated, and more than a little worried.
"Why didn't you tell me you knew who 'M' was?" He asked Marie at last, glancing at the dark-haired woman, who raised a brow in return.
"Why didn't you tell me Eurus knew Jim Moriarty?" Marie countered.
Mycroft opened his mouth to protest, but Marie cut him off as she said sharply: "Don't lie to me, Mycroft – I'm through with secrets now."
Mycroft closed his mouth as Marie stated, eyeing Mycroft closely: "She knew I'd chase Sebastian, and she knew I was coming. That bullet didn't just miss; she timed it precisely so that it wouldn't kill John because she knew I was coming. How else can you explain the two tranquilisers she had loaded right after the real bullet?"
Marie fixed Mycroft with an assessing look as she pointed out: "There are only two people in this world who could have told her enough about me for her to predict my moves. And since I'm guessing it wasn't Sherlock, considering he didn't even know Eurus existed until a few days ago, I'd say it's fair to say Eurus met Jim at some point despite being imprisoned for most of her life."
Marie raised a brow as she finished: "And either you're stupider than I gave you credit for and didn't know about it for the last at least three years that Jim's been dead, or you knew they'd met."
Mycroft heaved a sigh, his shoulders drooping in defeat as he rubbed his forehead tiredly.
"Yeah, just maybe he's stupider than you gave him credit for." John deadpanned, and Mycroft closed his eyes as he massaged his temples against the migraine he could feel coming.
Sherlock meanwhile made his way down the stairs, calling to the two men he'd hired to frighten Mycroft: "Right, you two. Wiggins has got your money by the gate."
The man dressed as the girl Mycroft had chased gave a delighted thumbs up before turning and dashing away as Sherlock added sternly: "Don't spend it all in one crack den."
The clown – still standing on the upstairs landing – squeezed his big red nose, letting it squeak at them before he too walked away casually to get his agreed pay.
"Don't I get any compensation for my performance?" Marie asked with too-casual levity. "After all I did do an excellent job at mimicking your sister's voice."
Mycroft shot her a look of utter disbelief – which she ignored – while Sherlock answered with equal nonchalance as his wife: "Mm, how about I redress your shoulder and we call it square?"
"Add dinner, and it's a deal." Marie agreed, and John chimed in: "Better hurry if you want to get dinner – even the Chinese at the end of Baker Street will be closing soon."
Mycroft rubbed his head in aggravation as Sherlock finally reached the bottom of the stairs, and the younger Holmes brother gave a false smile as he said insincerely: "Oh, I hope we didn't spoil your enjoyment of the movie."
With that, the consulting detective wrapped a careful arm around his wife's shoulders, leading the way towards one of the side doors.
"You're just leaving?" Mycroft demanded in disbelief, turning to look at the pair.
Marie glanced at him, her expression unreadable, as Sherlock paused to look at his brother over his shoulder as he answered flatly: "Well, we're not staying here. Eurus is coming and, uh, someone's disabled all your security."
Mycroft's eye twitched and he instinctively glanced at Marie.
"By the way, it wasn't me." Marie informed Mycroft, a flash of amusement crossing her face as she saw him read the truth in her words.
Mycroft scowled once more at Sherlock, who just smiled widely and – if possible – more insincerely than before. He then turned to the side door once more, and both he and Marie walked out of the mansion calmly as Sherlock added over his shoulder: "Sleep well!"
The couple strode off while Mycroft gaped after them for a moment. The older Holmes then turned sharply to John as the shorter man started to follow his friends out, and Mycroft demanded: "Dr. Watson. Why would he do that to me? That was insane!"
"Uh, yes." John agreed. "Well, someone convinced him that you wouldn't tell the truth unless you were actually wetting yourself."
Mycroft – had he been any one else – might have dropped his jaw at John's words. As it was, his eyes narrowed slightly at John as he repeated: "'Someone'?"
"It wasn't Marie." John added, and Mycroft answered dryly as he continued to drill holes into John's forehead: "No, I didn't think so."
John licked his lips slightly before he shrugged, and turned away once more. He stopped, however, turning back to Mycroft as the man snapped bitterly: "So that's it, is it? You're just going?"
John feigned innocence as he turned back to Mycroft, saying lightly: "Well, don't worry. There's a place for people like you – the desperate, the terrified; the ones with nowhere else to run."
"What place?" Mycroft bit out, his posture stiff and tightly coiled but still unable to fully hide his shaken core.
John frowned slightly, eyeing Mycroft as though wondering if the other man was being serious or not.
"221B, Baker Street." John explained as though it were obvious – which, to him, it was.
Mycroft closed his eyes, grinding his jaw slightly in irritation, but he finally let out a small, resigned sigh before he snapped open his eyes once more as John called while walking out the door at last: "See you in the morning. If there's a queue, join it!"
"For God's sake!" Mycroft finally exploded as he spat after the shorter man, his face twisting with irritation and anger. "This is not one of your idiot cases."
Before he'd even finished speaking, John had lifted a finger and turned back to Mycroft, and as Mycroft finished John added casually: "You might wanna close that window."
He pointed to the window in the far upper corridor, where Sherlock had gotten into the mansion, before looking at Mycroft as he finished pointedly: "There is an East Wind coming."
With another fake, small smile, John turned and walked out of the mansion, leaving Mycroft to slowly turn to look at the window with apprehension and fear written all over his face.
The next morning
221B Baker Street
Marie raised a brow, torn between amusement and annoyance, as she eyed Mycroft while Sherlock ignored his brother, simply sitting in his signature move with his fingers steepled against his chin while he leant forwards in his armchair.
John was sitting in his own armchair, twirling a pen absently in his hand as he stared at Marie where she sat on the arm of Sherlock's chair, while Mycroft himself stood stiffly in the middle of the arm beside the 'client chair', his arms folded across his chest as he fumed at the rest of the room's occupants.
It had been roughly ten minutes that they'd all stayed, unmoving, in their respective spots as they held their silent battle of wills. Well, the three boys did – Marie was simply too irritated with Mycroft yet entertained by his rare outward display of childish stubbornness to interfere. That, and she had a hidden card up her sleeve.
"You have to sit in the chair."
Mycroft turned his head, glaring at Mrs. Hudson where the landlady stood, leaning against the flat doorway with her arms crossed before her own chest.
Mrs. Hudson just met his gaze evenly as she informed him snootily: "They won't talk to you unless you sit in the chair. It's the rules."
Marie hid a smile – she knew she could count of Mrs. Hudson to be the one to be their fierce housekeeper-not-a-housekeeper – while Mycroft bit back: "I'm not a client."
"Then get out." Sherlock returned, his tone flat and emotionless, and without even lifting his head as he continued to stare intently into space.
Mycroft shot him an incredulous look – which Sherlock naturally missed – while John turned to look at Mycroft expectantly as he tapped his pen patiently against the arm of his own armchair. Mycroft pursed his lips, but Marie also turned to give him an expectant look and finally the older Holmes caved.
Unfolding his arms, Mycroft lifted his hands as though in surrender as he finally, grudgingly seated himself in the client chair.
Sherlock lowered his hands at last, laying one on the arm of his chair while resting his other on Marie's leg. Marie absently reached down to clasp Sherlock's hand in hers as she continued to observe Mycroft as the man glanced over his shoulder back to the doorway and at Mrs. Hudson.
"She's not going to stay there, is she?" Mycroft asked flatly, gesturing at the landlady as he turned back to his brother.
Sherlock folded his lips, but he obliged his older brother for once as he turned his eyes to Mrs. Hudson and nodded slightly at the elderly woman.
Mrs. Hudson simply looked back at Mycroft and asked emotionlessly: "Would you like a cup of tea?"
"Thank you." Mycroft replied curtly, and Mrs. Hudson fired back as she pointed to the kitchen: "The kettle's over there."
With that, the sassy landlady turned and walked off down the stairs, leaving a somewhat stunned Mycroft behind while Sherlock, Marie, and John all smiled slightly in amused appreciation.
Mycroft turned back to his brother, clearly aggravated but keeping his tone casual as he asked with a hint of sarcasm: "So what happens now? Are you going to make deductions?"
Marie raised a brow while Sherlock returned coolly: "You're going to tell the truth, Mycroft, pure and simple."
"If you can, that is." Marie chimed in casually, and Mycroft shot her a look before looking back at his younger brother.
"Pure and simple, hm?" Mycroft asked sarcastically, raising his own brow. "Who was it said, 'Truth is rarely pure, and never simple'?"
"I don't know and I don't care." Sherlock shot back, leaning back in his armchair so that he could face his brother properly across his crossed legs.
"So there were three of us." Sherlock noted, examining his brother intently. "I know that now. You, me, and... Eurus."
Both John and Marie also shifted, focusing their undivided attention on the two brothers as Mycroft's face became grim while he nodded just once.
"A sister I can't remember." Sherlock murmured slowly pursing his lips again in thought before he looked back at Mycroft, who exhaled deeply.
"How much has Marie already told you?" Mycroft asked, and Marie answered instead: "Everything you told me: her name, where she's being kept, and the reason you told me that she was locked up."
Sherlock sat back, becoming the observer, as Mycroft fixed Marie with an accusing look as he said: "You betrayed my trust that you would keep your word."
"I've said this before, but I'm no longer under your employment, Mycroft." Marie returned coolly. "And besides," she fixed her own green eyes on Mycroft's blue-grey ones, "I said from the beginning that I wouldn't spy on Sherlock for you."
Mycroft's jaw clenched, while John's lips curved up slightly, as Marie continued: "I kept the knowledge of Sherrinford from Sherlock while I thought it might be more dangerous for him to know than not – but now that I know she's out, Mycroft, there is no way I'm keeping something as important as Eurus from Sherlock."
Mycroft sighed again, hanging his head slightly, and Marie leant back as Sherlock sat up.
"Interesting name, Eurus." Sherlock noted, almost casually but his eyes were fixed intently on his brother once more as he prodded for details. "It's Greek, isn't it?"
His eyes shifted to look at John as he spoke, who agreed as he read off his notebook: "Yeah, uh, literally, 'the god of the East Wind'."
John looked back at Mycroft, his gaze as expectant as Sherlock's, while Marie observed silently. Mycroft's face was stern, but unlike usual it was resigned as he answered shortly but firmly: "Yes."
"'The East Wind is coming, Sherlock'."
They all turned to look at Sherlock, who was staring at the ground again as he spoke in a deep, threatening tone. Sherlock then lifted his head back to Mycroft as he accused flatly: "You used that to scare me."
"No." Mycroft answered softly, gazing at Sherlock with a mix of pity and fearful wariness.
Marie's eyes narrowed, while Sherlock retorted with a raised brow: "You turned my sister into a ghost story."
"Of course I didn't." Mycroft replied, rolling his eyes once before looking at Sherlock sternly once more. "I monitored you."
"You what?" John interjected, looking up sharply at Mycroft's interesting word choice.
Mycroft turned his eyes on John, pausing for a moment as he deliberated before he finally elaborated: "Memories can resurface; wounds can re-open."
John cocked a brow in surprise, shifting in his seat to face Mycroft more intently as the man paused before adding slowly: "The roads we walk have demons beneath..."
His gaze flickered back to Sherlock as he finished: "And yours have been waiting for a very long time."
Marie's hand tightened around Sherlock's as Sherlock's eyes narrowed, but he remained silent as Mycroft explained softly: "I never bullied you. I used, at discrete intervals, potential trigger words to update myself as to your mental condition. I was looking after you."
Marie's eyes flickered between the two brothers warily, while Sherlock continued to stare at his brother.
"Why can't I remember her?" Sherlock countered, his voice low but as intense as his gaze.
Mycroft paused once more, and his eyes shifted momentarily to glance at John and then away with a tight mutter: "This is a private matter."
John frowned, but before he could say anything, Sherlock said flatly: "John stays."
John looked over in surprise, while Mycroft leant forward as he hissed at his brother furiously: "Not even Marie should technically be allowed to hear this; this is family."
"That's why they stay!" Sherlock retorted sharply, his voice rising as he said each word distinctly while drilling holes at his brother with his determined gaze.
The two brothers remained still for a moment, locked in their heated staring competition, while Marie and John glanced at each other. A small smile appeared on the two friends' faces, both sharing the warm feeling that Sherlock's declaration had given them, before they looked away as Mycroft finally sat back in defeat.
Recognizing Mycroft's resignation, John cleared his throat before he began per usual procedure: "So, there were three Holmes kids."
He opened his notebook to a new page, readying his pen to take notes before asking Mycroft: "What was the age gap?"
"Seven years between myself and Sherlock; one year between Sherlock and Eurus." Mycroft answered bluntly, sounding somewhat peeved – probably because he wasn't getting things his way anymore.
Oh well, it was time he grew up, Marie noted, while John pointed his pen at Sherlock as he mused: "Middle child. Explains a lot."
Sherlock threw John an unimpressed look while Marie snorted a laugh that she tried to hide as a cough. Sherlock threw her an aggravated look as well, which she returned with an apologetic one while John wiggled his brows once before returning his attention to his notebook as he asked Mycroft: "So, I'm assuming she had it too?"
"Have what?" Mycroft sniped, and John shrugged: "The deduction thing."
"'The deduction thing'?" Mycroft repeated sarcastically, and Marie chimed in: "Behave, Mycroft."
"You sound like my mother." Mycroft shot back, and Marie warned: "You're lucky I only 'sound' like her. Be careful, or I'll call her hear – then you can hear the original order of 'behave, Mike' that you know you can't not follow."
Mycroft glowered at her while Sherlock smirked briefly, and John cleared his throat before he brought them back to the issue at hand: "So, she had it?"
"More than you can know." Mycroft finally answered quietly, his eyes drifting to stare blankly into space.
The tension in the room returned as the trio watched Mycroft, waiting patiently for him to continue.
"Enlighten me." John finally requested, and Mycroft began as he gestured between himself and Sherlock: "You realise I'm the smart one?"
"As you never cease to announce." Sherlock fired back, while Marie muttered: "I still beg to differ, sometimes."
John glanced at them before looking back at Mycroft as the eldest Holmes sighed: "But, Eurus - she was incandescent… Even then."
Sherlock focused on his brother intently as Mycroft explained to them: "Our abilities were professionally assessed more than once. I was… remarkable," Mycroft sighed again, "but Eurus was described as an era-defining genius; beyond Newton."
"Then why don't I remember her?" Sherlock interrupted darkly, intently, but Mycroft countered quietly as he looked back at his younger brother: "You do remember her, in a way."
He gestured at Marie as he explained: "Meeting Marie has changed you in some ways, reshaped you. But even with those changes, at your core… every choice you ever made, every path you've ever taken, the man you are today... is your memory of Eurus."
Marie's eyes moved between the two brothers as Sherlock slowly turned his head away from Mycroft, his gaze thoughtful, while Mycroft looked down at the floor.
"She was different from the beginning." Mycroft murmured quietly, and John and Marie exchanged worried looks. "She knew things she should never have known… as if she was somehow aware of truths beyond the normal scope."
Mycroft suddenly drew himself up, stiffening slightly as he continued to stare in the direction of the fireplace.
Marie glanced at the empty space while John asked carefully: "What's wrong?"
"Sorry." Mycroft murmured as Marie also turned concerned eyes back on him.
Mycroft's hand clenched, closing into a fist as he murmured: "The memories are disturbing."
Marie tensed, while Sherlock frowned and shook his head, demanding; "What do you mean? Examples."
"They found her with a knife once." Mycroft replied heavily. "She seemed to be cutting herself. Mother and Father were terrified; they thought it was a suicide attempt."
He heaved another sigh as he continued, looking down at his fist: "But when I asked Eurus what she was doing, she said, 'I wanted to see how my muscles worked'."
"Jesus!" John gasped, turning to look at Sherlock and Marie in shock.
Marie had stilled, her face closed off as often happened when she was greatly disturbed emotionally, while Sherlock continued to stare at Mycroft as the older brother continued: "So I asked her if she felt pain, and she said, 'Which one's pain?'"
Marie's hand unconsciously tightened before relaxing slightly once more around Sherlock's. He squeezed her hand reassuringly as he absorbed this new, and disturbing, revelation before he looked back at Mycroft.
"What happened?" Sherlock asked softly, and Mycroft closed his eyes briefly before opening them once more.
"Musgrave." Mycroft answered grimly, and the trio exchanged glances before looking back at the elder Holmes.
