John stared at Mycroft, while Sherlock called loudly: "Is there really no-one there that can help you? Have you really, really checked?"
"Everyone's asleep." The girl replied, sounding like she was on the verge of crying again. "Will you help me?"
"We're going to do everything that we can." Sherlock replied, though his voice trembled slightly as he glanced between John and Mycroft before his eyes landed on Marie.
He then frowned, barely hearing the little girl as she cried: "I'm scared. I'm really scared."
"It's all right." Sherlock reassured absently, his eyes still on Marie. "I-"
There was another click, cutting the call once more, and Sherlock glanced over at the screen mounted on the wall as Eurus appeared, saying: "Now, back to the matter in hand."
Sherlock looked back at Marie, confused by the drawn expression on her face, while Eurus stated: "Coffin. Problem: someone is about to die."
Sherlock glanced down at he coffin again while Eurus went on: "It will be – as I understand it – a tragedy."
Sherlock rubbed his brow with his thumb, ignoring the fact that he was holding the pistol in his hand, as he tried to focus on the coffin, wondering what about it had put Marie off as Eurus continued in the background: "So many days not lived, so many words unsaid. Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."
"Yes, yes, yes," Sherlock snapped impatiently and more than a little irritably, "and this – I presume – will be their coffin."
"Whose coffin, Sherlock?" Eurus sighed, looking right at the camera. "Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment."
Sherlock huffed out a deep sigh, before turning back to the coffin as he began irritably: "Well, allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I'd say this coffin is intended for someone of about five foot six. Makes it more likely to be a woman."
"Not a child?" John checked, standing with his arms crossed over his chest as he also examined the coffin.
Mycroft turned his eyes to the coffin as well, while Sherlock explained: "A child's coffin would have less space on the inside. This one is shaped for a person with a chest size of about thirty, so woman is looking good right now."
John nodded, while Marie closed her eyes and Mycroft's eyes moved to the side of the room as Sherlock continued listing: "However, this coffin is still slightly expensive. Balance of probability suggests that this is for a woman with very few close relatives or friends, but those close relations are very close, they care; that much is suggested by the slightly upscale choice."
Mycroft moved to the side of the room, peering at the coffin lid that had been propped up against the wall, and he picked it up to examine it more closely while Sherlock continued rattling off: "Clearly someone who has been prepared for death, at least for a while. Also, the lining of the coffin-"
"Yes, very good, Sherlock," Mycroft interrupted suddenly, "or we could just look at the name on the lid. Only it isn't a name."
He turned the lid so that they could all see the small golden plaque placed near the upper half of the coffin lid.
Sherlock started forward, but Marie interjected quietly: "You don't have to – you already know."
Sherlock paused, and then he suddenly whirled around to stare at Marie with wide eyes as his mouth fell open in an 'O'. He dropped the gun as he did, the pistol falling to the ground with a clatter, while John asked as he walked over to read the name on the coffin lid: "What do you mean, he already knows…?"
John trailed off as he read the 'name' on the lid, which read: 'I LOVE YOU.'
"I still don't get it." John said, confused as he turned back to Marie. "So, it's for somebody who loves somebody?"
"It's for somebody who loves Sherlock." Mycroft corrected absently.
John's jaw dropped as he, too, finally understood the terrible truth that was staring them in the face. He turned to his friends in absolute horror, but Sherlock and Marie never looked away from each other as they continued to face each other silently, the brunette man tightlipped while the woman's face was filled with grim acceptance.
Only Mycroft seemed to be oblivious as he went on: "This is all about you. Everything here. So who loves you…?"
He trailed off as the penny finally dropped, and Mycroft looked at Marie as he murmured: "Oh."
"Five foot six." Marie listed, her eyes fixed meaningfully on Sherlock. "Chest size thirty; few close relations but the few are people who care deeply; someone who is abnormally prepared for an untimely death…"
She paused, while Sherlock simply stared back at her with growing terror.
"I'm surprised you didn't realize straight away." Marie whispered. "That coffin is for me."
John's eyes were wide as he looked between Sherlock and Marie, worry and uncertainty dominating his expression. The detective himself wasn't looking at anyone else, his blue eyes on Marie only as he shook his head slowly, emphasizing his denial as he murmured as firmly as he could: "No."
But he just looked more shaken than anything as he gazed at Marie almost desperately, and her emerald eyes filled with pain as she could almost see Sherlock's brain whirring as he tried to find a solution to what could only be the inevitable. What Marie had known could only be waiting for her from the moment she'd heard Jim's voice inside the Sherrinford facility.
The only unknown variable now was how Eurus planned to do it.
"This one's easy." Eurus smiled as she leant forward on the camera. "Well, easy for Victoire, perhaps; after all, if my guess is right – and it always is – you've known this was coming didn't you?"
Marie didn't reply, or even make any indication that she'd heard Eurus. The youngest Holmes didn't really care, as she added with inappropriate delight: "As for you, Sherlock, this may be a little more challenging. Again, I ask that you express your distress in words for accuracy in conducting my experiment."
Mycroft turned his head away while John closed his eyes in despair as Sherlock swallowed. Marie just continued to stare at Sherlock grimly as Eurus began once more: "Now, the context."
The screen suddenly split into quadrants, of which three showed live footage of a very familiar – at least to John and Marie – home while the last quadrant in the top right showed a countdown clock, currently fixed at 03:00 minutes.
Sherlock frowned in slight confusion, and Mycroft began: "Where-?"
But Marie interrupted as she explained softly: "That's Molly's house."
Mycroft looked at her sharply while Sherlock stared at the screen as Molly herself appeared on the screen, moving into her kitchen as she looked for something.
The group watched silently, while Eurus explained: "Her flat is rigged to explode in approximately three minutes-"
Marie's eyes flashed while Sherlock pursed his lips, listening intently as Eurus continued casually: "- which will kill your friend, who also just happens to be looking after Dr. Watson's dear baby girl."
John blinked before his arms dropped from where he'd crossed them across his chest, terror gripping his heart as he watched Molly start to prepare baby food on the screen before them, clearly getting ready to feed little Rosie.
Mycroft hung his head while Sherlock's hands curled into tight fists, as Eurus went on casually: "That is, if I hear the code words from both of your lips, Sherlock."
"Both?" Marie asked tightly, and Eurus smiled.
"I've heard marriage is always by halves," Eurus answered, "so I give you both the opportunity to make a choice."
Eurus' eyes and voice sharpened as she asked: "Do you understand, Sherlock? If I hear the code words, I will blow up your friend and Dr. Watson's child."
John flinched, before he was floored as Eurus finished, her voice going completely cold and flat: "And if not, I will shoot Victoire."
Marie glanced at the small, almost invisible hatch on one of the walls, which she had missed until then because it was camouflaged in the same dull grey as the surroundings, and clearly where Eurus would have someone shoot a gun through.
Mycroft raised his head while John gaped and Sherlock glared at the speaker where Eurus's voice was coming from, as Eurus finished softly, almost longingly: "It's your choice now. To say… or to not say."
"Say what?" John asked quietly, but in a deadly tone.
Sherlock closed his eyes, pressing his lips tightly together, while Marie gave John a pained look as Eurus questioned: "Obvious, surely?"
"No." John answered, shaking his head, but Sherlock corrected softly: "Yes."
He turned to look at John, who frowned and glanced at Marie… who was looking at the coffin lid propped up against the wall so they could see the name plaque clearly.
John – and Mycroft – both turned to look, and John fell silent as the reread the words inscribed on the small, golden plaque: 'I LOVE YOU'. Three simple words, but with much more complicated emotions behind them, something Eurus was clearly very aware of.
"Oh, and as an extra incentive, please do keep in mind: the little girl is still on the plane, and growing so terribly frightened." Eurus added casually. "If you lose here, you don't get to call her, Sherlock."
Sherlock's hands curled slightly, as though he were on the verge of clenching them into fists but was trying very hard not to, while Marie's eyes flashed with an emotion that John couldn't quite read in time before it was gone again and replaced with calculative determination.
"Let the test begin." Eurus smiled, and Marie turned to look at Sherlock once more.
The couple's eyes met, green and blue locking onto one another just as the timer started, counting down while Jim's voice whispered loudly in the background: "Tick-tock tick-tock tick-tock…"
"Sherlock…" Mycroft began slowly, glancing at John sympathetically, but Sherlock had eyes only for Marie as he murmured softly but rapidly: "There is no choice; you have to say it."
John bristled slightly, unable to help himself (after all, his daughter was in danger), but Sherlock was still speaking.
"If she's already rigged the flat, Eurus will continue to use Molly and Rosie as bait against us. You'll have died here for nothing – therefore, it only makes sense to eliminate the weakness, Eurus's threat."
Sherlock glanced briefly at John as he finished speaking, his apologetic eyes belying the almost flat tone with which the consulting detective had spoken. Though even his voice wasn't quite like his usual cold, emotionless deductions; Sherlock was far too agitated and alarmed to maintain his usual neutrality. John could easily hear it in Sherlock's voice, and the younger man's eyes had only further confirmed the doctor's conclusions.
For Sherlock's eyes were wild with fear and pain: fear for his wife, for Molly and Rosie, for all of them; and a deep pain as his instincts told him what he already feared to be true but didn't want to admit.
Marie met Sherlock's gaze squarely, her own green eyes filled with a mix of grim apology and firm determination, as she voiced what they both knew: "Sherlock, Eurus is targeting you."
Sherlock shook his head, but Marie went on anyway: "She has set the explosives and this trap to eliminate your weakness, not mine or John's or Mycroft's. And we all know your weakness here… is me."
John flinched while Mycroft bowed his head, and the countdown hit 02:26.
Sherlock grasped Marie's shoulders tightly, almost painfully, as he answered frantically: "It might not be."
"But it is."
It was almost eerie how calmly Marie spoke as she listed logically: "If she were targeting all of us, she would not have given a test where you have to make what is – I'm sorry, John – a clear choice. It's not pleasant, but we know you'd choose me over Molly, and even Rosie, if forced to."
Sherlock balked, but he couldn't deny it; Marie was right, it was the harsh but true reality.
"But she gave me a choice as well." Marie went on. "Now, if she was really targeting our weakness, she would have chosen Scott and Sheryl as her threat, and not Molly and Rosie."
John flinched while Sherlock's eyes tightened.
"But she didn't. That means her target is only one person: you."
Marie held Sherlock's gaze steadily, though her voice was starting to sound just a little strained.
"She's here to see you suffer; the rest of us are just tools in that process. And tools are disposable."
Sherlock shook his head slightly, though it was more in despair than denial, and Marie finished: "And I'm the most useful in being disposed; because me leaving like this is going to hurt you the most."
"You're not leaving." Sherlock insisted sharply, and John turned away, unable to look any more, while Marie just smiled a little sadly, her eyes glistening with just the tiniest hint of suppressed tears.
"Oh, Sherlock." Marie sighed as the clock hit 02:02. "I don't think you've ever been so wrong."
The lights in the coffin room turned red, and Jim's face reappeared on the screen as he repeated in that harsh, urgent whisper: "Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…"
The lights returned to their normal white hues and the screen reverted back to the footage of Molly's flat, where Molly was now moving out of the kitchen.
"John."
John looked over, startled, at Marie's call, to see she was looking right at him now. He couldn't answer, his throat too tight with emotions, so he simply nodded as he met her eyes.
Marie's eyes were clear as she told him: "Don't blame yourself; promise me. This is just my demons finally catching up with me – I'm just glad I can save Rosie in the process. It is in no way your fault."
John couldn't respond to that, and he blinked back the tears that sprang to his eyes at his friend's sacrifice.
He was torn: he would never forgive himself for feeling relieved that Marie had chosen to save Rosie; he hated that Sherlock refused to make the same choice; yet he understood why Sherlock couldn't make that choice; and he pitied Sherlock more than anyone else because John could sympathize all too well with the feeling of losing your wife because she chose to save another over herself.
Because she chose to die saving a friend.
John turned away again, unable to meet Marie's eyes any longer as Sherlock hesitated, struggling with himself, before he repeated in agony: "Marie, please, please. Just say the words."
John tensed, while Marie replied, her voice going sharp with the strain the stressful situation was placing on them: "And let my godchild and friend be blown up into smithereens, like that old woman during your game with Jim? I don't think so."
The lights in the room turned red and Jim Moriarty's face appeared on the screen once more, his voice almost echoing in the deathly silent room.
"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…"
The lights turned white again and John glanced at the screen to see Molly smiling as she carried little Rosie into the kitchen, the baby waving her small fists around while she babbled.
He raised his head, unable to bear looking at anything any more, while Mycroft appeared almost unable to look away from his brother as Sherlock's heart was torn apart, little piece by little piece, the closer the countdown got to 0.
And the elder Holmes could only watch the couple silently as his younger brother demanded of Marie: "What about your children? Will you leave them to live the rest of their lives knowing their mother was killed, and I did nothing to stop it?"
Sherlock's voice rose as he became more and more desperate. "Because that is exactly what will happen if you don't let me save you, Marie!"
"I can't." Marie replied, her voice breaking and the tears she'd been forcing herself to hold back started to pool in her eyes. "I… can't, Sherlock. I can't do that to John, and I can't do that to us. If I let Molly and Rosie die because I wanted to live, I'll never be able to forgive myself. I'm sorry, Sherlock; I can't. I-"
"I love you."
Eurus sat up in her chair in the Governor's office while Marie's face filled with pain at Sherlock's quiet, desperate, and honest words.
John's entire frame tensed while Mycroft opened his mouth as though about to say something before he closed it once more and finally turned away, unable to bear the utter heartbreak on his brother's face as Sherlock gazed imploringly at Marie.
Marie's eyes were now shining with tears, but she shook her head slowly as Sherlock begged, his voice cracking: "Tell me; say what you always say back to me."
"Final thirty seconds." Eurus breathed as the timer on the screen displayed the counter; 00:31… 00:30…
"Marie." Sherlock whispered, and Marie lifted herself up on her tiptoes to kiss him.
Sherlock could only remain frozen, fear starting to grip his heart and making his whole body feel like ice as Marie pressed her lips softly against his before leaning back down.
"I can't." She whispered again as she broke herself from Sherlock's grip. And Marie positioned herself before the hatch, and Sherlock's eyes went wide in alarm.
"Marie-" Sherlock began, reaching forward in alarm, but Marie whispered softly: "I love them."
Eurus leant in close to the screen, watching avidly as Sherlock froze and blinked in confusion, all while the counter ticked ever further down.
"Tell the twins that." Marie requested softly, giving Sherlock a small smile. "Tell them for me."
"No." Sherlock said sharply as her words sank in, and his desperation grew as the counter hit 00:13. "No, you tell them. Tell them, like you tell me. Say it, Marie, please, don't do this!"
He begged her, his eyes begged her, even as he remained unable to move in sheer fear; but Marie could only stare at him sadly as she whispered: "I won't; you know I won't. You know how I feel anyways."
"Let me hear it. Marie, please don't…" Sherlock rasped in a shaky breath as the countdown hit ten seconds, before he breathed: "Save yourself. Please."
"Sherlock…" Marie sighed, but Sherlock implored, his voice cracking more and more as he started losing the fight to maintain some semblance of control: ""For the twins…"
Marie shook her head, looking pained, but Sherlock requested anyway: "For me."
A tear actually fell down Sherlock's face as he begged, but she stared at him resolutely as the countdown hit two seconds.
"Marie!"
"I'm sorry, Sherlock." Was all Marie could whisper as the countdown hit zero.
Almost instantly, there was a loud bang as a gun was fired from the now open hatch; and blood spurted from Marie's back as the bullet hit its mark.
