Sherlock closed his eyes and lowered his head, bowing it as he let it all sink in.

'No-one.' Eurus had said. Yes, she had no-one to care and share emotions with, as Sherlock had pointed out before. And she had no-one she had to love as Sherlock loved Marie and Sheryl and Scottie-

Sherlock paused.

No… that wasn't right. She was clearly obsessed with him, her brother, but what if that wasn't obsession? What if it was love? It wasn't something Sherlock had been too familiar with before, having been taught by Mycroft (although apparently as a direct result of his interactions with Eurus) to be removed from love, even the filial kind.

But, what if Eurus had simply loved her brother? What if… it wasn't spite but love that had motivated her actions?

Sherlock recalled a time when Scottie had cried and cried after Sherlock's mother had given Sheryl a sweetie but failed to give him one too. Marie had scolded the boy for using crying as a means of getting attention, when all he had to do was ask nicely.

Ask nicely… crying to get attention.

Sherlock's mind jumped to Eurus's words again: "It's time to solve the Musgrave ritual."

She had wanted attention, so she made the Musgrave riddle. It had to have a connection with the funny graveyards with the impossible dates that Sherlock had apparently loved to play in as a child; if Eurus wanted his attention, she would have chosen something that would get Sherlock's attention.

And suddenly, Sherlock recalled again the grave of Nemo Holmes, one of the many graves in the impossible graveyard, one he'd run passed every day as a child.

"No-one." Eurus had said.

Nemo: Latin for no-one, or nobody.

Sherlock's eyes snapped open, and he said quietly but in a strong, steely tone: "Okay."

He looked up at Eurus once more, who stared back with a bit of apprehension in her slightly knitted brows, as Sherlock said determinedly: "Okay; let's play."

Sherlock turned and ran from the room, grabbing his lantern on the way out.

Eurus watched him again from the screen in the entry hall as Sherlock raced passed on his way out of the front door, from where he hurried around the side of the house towards the graveyard at the back.

Quickly throwing open the gate, Sherlock dashed into the graveyard, bending down before each one and holding the lantern up close so that he could read the various names and dates clearly.

"Hello?" The little girl's voice called again, terrified. "Are you there?"

"Need your help." Sherlock answered shortly as he ran amongst the graves, reading the dates and years clearly. "I'm trying to solve a puzzle."

"But what about the plane?" The girl asked worriedly, but Sherlock answered swiftly: "Well, the puzzle will save the plane."

He peered at each grave, and he muttered: "The wrong dates. She used the wrong dates on the gravestones as the key to the cipher, and the cipher was the song."


In the well, John struggled to keep Marie's head up out of the water with him. She was starting to become lucid as the drugs started to wear off, but it also meant that every discomfort, every pain in her body, was also returning as her sense woke up.

She'd started keening as she shivered against the cold, clutching her head at irregular intervals as the drugs burnt through her system, and it was all John could do to keep her conscious with him.

At Sherlock's words, John yelled, getting more and more desperate: "Is this strictly relevant?"

"Yes, it is." Sherlock answered shortly. "I'll be with you in a minute."


Sherlock could hear Marie's faint moans of pain, but he knew he couldn't focus on that now – if he wanted to save her at all, he needed to solve Eurus's riddle first.

Placing down his lantern, Sherlock mentally visualized all of the dates from the graves, taking only the numbers from the years and breaking them down into pairs: '13', '04', '17'; '19', and so on.

Sherlock took a deep breath, eyes narrowing as he focused all of his attention on his task, when the little girl said urgently in his ear: "The lights are getting closer."

"Hush, now. Working." Sherlock answered, dismissing the girl as he focused solely on the numbers he was picturing in the air before him.

He also conjured up the words to Eurus's strange little tune, picturing each line the way he remembered her singing over and over again in his childhood:

I that am lost, oh who will find me?

Deep down below the old beech tree

Help succour me now the east winds blow

Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go!

Without your love, he'll be gone before

Save pity for strangers, show Love the door.

My soul seek the shade of my willow's bloom

Inside, brother mine -

Let Death make a room.

Be not afraid to walk in the shade

Save one, save all, come try!

My steps - five by seven

Life is closer to Heaven

Look down, with dark gaze, from on high.

Before he was gone - right back over my 'ill

Who now will find him?

Why, nobody will

Doom shall I bring to him, I that am queen

Lost forever, nine by nineteen.

"Let's number the words of the song."" Sherlock muttered to himself as he visualized numbers on each of the words of Eurus's song.

He took another deep breath before he closed his eyes for better focus as he muttered: "Then rearrange the numbered words to match the sequence on the gravestones."

He gasped as he managed to pull out the correct words by the matching number from the graves, and Sherlock reopened his eyes as he began physically moving the words he was visualizing in the air before himself, into the order that matched the order of the gravestones.

"I… am… lost." Sherlock muttered as he pulled each word into place, frowning slightly as he focused his full attention on unraveling the true meaning behind Eurus's song.

"Help... me... brother..."

He swiped the words aside as he moved to the next phrase.

"Save... my... life... Before... my... doom."

Sherlock swung the words he'd put together out of the way as he moved onto the next lines, murmuring: "I... am... lost... Without... your... love... Save… my ... soul..."

"Seek... my... room."

He stopped dead as he finished; as the words sank in.

Sherlock stared at the last three words of the puzzle, before his eyes moved passed his mental visualization and landed on his old home.

"Oh God." Sherlock whispered, before he grabbed his lantern once more as he rushed back towards the burnt-out house.

"We're going to crash!" The little girl screamed in his ear as he ran. "I'm going to die!"

Sherlock dashed back into the house, saying firmly as he made his way swiftly up the stairs and onto the first floor: "I think it's time you told me your real name."

"I'm not allowed to tell my name to strangers." The little girl answered fearfully, just as Sherlock reached a closed door at the end of the first floor landing.

He stopped before it, taking a moment to calm his racing heart, before he murmured quietly: "But I'm not a stranger, am I?"

Sherlock opened the door swiftly, stepping inside and he said softly as his eyes landed on the sight inside: "I'm your brother."

There, in the middle of her ruined childhood bedroom, sat Eurus.

Curled up into a tight ball on a worn, old blanket, she sat huddled in a fetal position with her arms wrapped around her knees and her eyes screwed tightly shut; clearly trapped in her own mind. Trapped, in the airplane that could only crash someday; in the fear that had plagued her as a little girl; in the isolation that had dominated her entire life.

Sherlock placed his lantern down quickly before he approached her carefully, whispering gently: "I'm here, Eurus."

The woman didn't move, not responding at first, but as Sherlock reached out a hand slowly towards her, she suddenly spoke without opening her eyes.

"You're playing with me, Sherlock." Eurus murmured in a little girl's voice – the little girl on the plane's voice. "We're playing the game."

"The game, yes." Sherlock agreed quietly, trying to keep his voice calm and soothing though his heart was racing both from fear for his wife and best friend, and from the adrenaline rush that his realization had given him. "I get it now."

He took another step closer to her as he went on: "The song was never a set of directions."

Eurus's brows furrowed, and her hands tightened on her knees as she whimpered still in the little girl's voice: "I'm in the plane, and I'm going to crash."

Sherlock knelt down before her gently, keeping his movements slow so as not to alarm her, while Eurus cried: "And you're going to save me."

"Look how brilliant you are." Sherlock murmured softly as he came closer. "Your mind has created the perfect metaphor."

Eurus twitched slightly as Sherlock continued sympathetically: "You're high above us, all alone in the sky; and you understand everything, except how to land."

Sherlock shifted, moving to sit down before Eurus, while he added: "Now, I'm just an idiot; but I'm on the ground."

Eurus whimpered again, and Sherlock reached out, placing his fingers carefully on Eurus's hands as he said anxiously: "I can bring you home."

"No." Eurus moaned plaintively, her brows knitting further and she shrank in on herself, curling up further into a ball as she repeated, her voice slowly changing back to her adult tone. "No, no."

Her body shuddered with repressed sobs, and Eurus whispered in her regular voice, though it was filled with pain and hopelessness: "It's too late now."

"No it's not." Sherlock answered firmly as he shifted even closer to Eurus, keeping his worried gaze on her as he tried to reach her. "It's not too late."

"Every time," Eurus cried, her eyes squeezing shut even more while her whole face twisted with utter fear, "I close my eyes, I'm on the plane."

Her voice shook, as did her entire body, and Sherlock's face filled with pity as Eurus whimpered: "I'm lost, lost in the sky and…"

She sobbed, bowing her head slightly as she got out tearfully: "No-one can hear me."

She pulled her knees even closer as she began to cry in earnest, and Sherlock leaned in even closer, holding her hands as he whispered gently, comfortingly: "Open your eyes."

Eurus struggled, clearly torn between opening them and being unable to open them, but Sherlock murmured reassuringly: "I'm here."

His sister finally opened her eyes slowly, raising her head to look up at him with those blue eyes that were no longer cold and void of emotion but filled with an utterly broken expression that made his heart ache.

"You're not lost any more." Sherlock comforted, and Eurus sobbed.

Sherlock moved around so that he could pull her into his arms, and Eurus reached out for him as his arms wrapped around her shaking frame. She sobbed, crying freely now as she clung onto him while Sherlock held her tightly as she wept onto his shoulder.

"Now," Sherlock murmured gently as she cried, "you... you just ... you just went the wrong way last time, that's all."

Eurus's eyes were wide, terrified and distraught, while Sherlock continued thickly but firmly: "This time, get it right. Tell me how to save my wife and friend."


In the well, John gasped as Marie suddenly jerked and she slipped from his grip with a cry of pain.

"Marie!" John gasped, as the brunette woman fell with a splash into the water.

He quickly dove in after her, dragging her back up above the water while she coughed violently.

"Marie, are you okay? Marie?" John demanded, and Marie got out between gasps, sounding the most coherent since they'd been reunited: "Oh, God, Sherlock!"


Sherlock turned his head in alarm when he heard John's cry in his ear, before his heart clenched at the rawness of Marie's voice as she called for him.

Eurus also shifted, apparently having heard their voices as well, and she lifted her head from Sherlock's shoulder as he pulled back slightly. He kept his hand on her head, caressing it gently, while the other held her shoulder tightly as he began: "Eurus…"

Eurus's eyes were wide, vulnerable, and still filled with tears, but they were still intent as she stared at her brother as Sherlock pleaded: "Help me."

She sniffled, but she watched him as seriously as he stared at her while he requested earnestly: "Help me save Marie Holmes, and John Watson."

Eurus stared at him, understanding and acceptance flooding into her still-tearful but calmer blue eyes.


Inside the well, John grunted as the water reached passed his chin level, while Marie struggled to hang onto the rocks.

"John!" She called worriedly, but he shouted back at her: "You stay up there, Marie; you stay there until you're stronger again, strong enough to climb out of here."

"I'm not leaving you." She argued, and he snapped: "Look, what good does it do for both of us to die?! You're getting better, you can still make it!"

"Shut up, you can be the soldier all you want, but I'm your friend and I won't leave you to die here." Marie snapped as she willed herself desperately to regain the use of her limp arms while fighting the urge to vomit.

She was slowly recovering from the drugs Eurus had injected into her, but it wasn't fast enough and time was something they were running very, very short on.

"Trust you to argue with me the minute you get your head back on!" John gasped, as the water levels rose dangerously close up to his mouth.

Marie bunched up her muscles to attempt diving down to the bottom of the well to try and free John's feet, while also opening her mouth to retort, when a bright searchlight suddenly shone down on their heads.

The pair squinted at the sudden brightness, startled, before they both gasped in relief as a rope was thrown down into the well while a very familiar shadow appeared at the top, calling: "Marie! John!"