The Final Problem, Part 6

Throughout Amelia's life, there had been many times where she had woken up in an uncomfortable position, from the many drunken nights leading into hung-over mornings, usually peppered with a stranger beside her and in a strange room, from the times she had fallen asleep in the middle of a case and been very suddenly awakened by Sherlock, but this would have to be one of the worst ways to wake up. Her head hurt and she felt a gnawing sickly feeling into her stomach, like she might be sick but at the same time wasn't nauseated enough to, while a cold, icy shiver ran over her entire form. She was trembling with the cold, her jeans and lower edge of her jumper clinging to her, while awareness floated in and out for her. She wasn't sure how long it even went on for, she felt as if she was dream walking, partly aware that she was frozen to the bone and partly soaked, partly completely oblivious to all of it and lost still to the black nothingness.

She should feel panicked, but the numbness and pounding in her head didn't seem to let her, it rather felt as if she was waking up from a long surgery. It was the most curious, puzzling sensation, memories from what had been happening were there within grasp for her, but yet the pleasantly disconcerting floating feeling didn't seem to want to leave her just yet. Or perhaps she didn't want to leave it yet, because doing so would mean something wholly unpleasant and a whole lot less nice. Could she not remain like this for a while longer? True, she wasn't the most comfortable, but when she felt so cast adrift from everything around her, what did it matter?

"Are you there yet?"

Sherlock's voice might as well have been a foghorn going off right in her ear. Amelia awoke with a startled gasp, eyes flying open and her head smacking back against something very hard and firm behind her, ponytail managing to actually help protect her from giving herself a concussion. Still, she groaned and cringed, hands flying up to grab at her head, spraying water all over her face and hair. Water? She blinked groggily down at herself and her eyes widened in horror. She was sitting in a puddle of water, or so she appeared to be, since the lighting was so gloomy she could only make it out for the reflective surface. Evidently, she had been sitting in it long enough for her body to become so used to the temperature; she barely even felt a thing, trembling as she was.

"Yeah," another voice gasped from less than a foot away from her, causing her to flinch and jump again, head snapping around so fast, her vision blurred, "I'm here".

"John?" Amelia breathed, almost blankly and in disbelief, squinting her eyes ahead of her, trying to see through the gloom. Her focus swam in and out, vision blurred from the drug hangover, but she managed to make out a figure of a familiar man sitting in the shadows ahead of her.

"Amelia?" he asked, sounding almost relieved, and the shadowed figure froze.

She closed her eyes, "Oh, thank God…" she murmured weakly, the realisation that she wasn't alone in this horrid place, feeling like a weight being lifted off her shoulders.

"Amelia!" Sherlock exclaimed from right in Amelia's very ear, causing her to jump again, "John?"

An earpiece, she realised with growing shock, her sodden, trembling fingers reaching up to touch her ear, feeling the little device sitting in her ear. It hadn't been there before and she felt slightly violated to slowly come to terms with the knowledge that someone had placed it upon her person while she was unconscious. What else had they done to her? She was still fully dressed, thankfully, even her diamond earrings were still in place, but even still, the idea that someone had been touching her while she was out to it made her feel physically sick and uneasy.

"Yeah," John's voice came out of the gloom, and she felt something knock against her foot as the sound of water moving violently echoed around them. Everything was echoing, now that she thought about it, as if they were somewhere very small and encased, like a cave, "Yeah," he said again, sounding slightly slurred at the edges, "It's us, Sherlock. We're here together…"

"Where are you?" Sherlock asked immediately, alarmed and worried.

"Somewhere very dark," Amelia replied nervously, squinting around them. The air smelt cold and like mildew and stagnate water, while the wall she was leaning against felt almost like stone, with rough, uneven edges digging into the back of her coat, but it also seemed to curve slightly. She swallowed and tried to squint against the darkness, eyes slowly adjusting to the light…she could almost make out John fully now, finding him now standing upright with his back to the opposite wall across from her, hair dishevelled over his forehead, but his expression remained lost to her, "And small…" she went on, voice growing slightly thick with anxiety that she was barely suppressing, "We…we were put here asleep, Sherlock. We just woke up…Are you okay?" she frowned worriedly, "Where are you?"

"Are you sure you're alright, Amelia?" he asked instead, sounding oddly alarmed.

"I…I think I'm okay," she said slowly, warily, mentally trying to assess how her body was feeling. Her head still hurt and she still felt vaguely sickly, but now that the odd floating feeling was swiftly leaving her, she was starting to feel increasingly more anxious and nervous, then anything else. She wasn't physically hurt, she could feel that, but what the drugs might have done to her…well, she didn't know. She couldn't think about that right now, if she let herself, even for a second, she knew she would start panicking fully and they couldn't afford that. They really couldn't, so she took a shaky breathe and moved to try and pull herself up off the floor, using the rough surface of the wall behind her to shakily stand. It was relief to find that her legs did hold her upright and she only felt a little dizzy, but that had to be a good sign…right? "Sherlock," she said again, slightly more insistent, "Where are you?

"I'm in another cell," he replied swiftly, though he sounded slightly dazed himself, "I just spoke to the girl on the plane again. We've been out for hours".

Amelia's eyes widened at that.

"What, she's still up there?" John, too, seemed quite shocked by that.

"Yes. The plane will keep flying until it runs out of fuel…"

"But…" Amelia frowned slowly, leaning her back against the curved wall behind her, one hand falling onto her stomach, while the other gripped the rough edge of one of the protruding stones behind her. She frowned at John's shadowed form just a foot away from her, "That plane was flying for hours before we were drugged…how can it still be flying if we've been asleep for hours?"

"I…" his voice trailed off, sounding lost and uncertain, and she waited with her heart pounding, "I…don't know," he said finally, "Perhaps it only has minutes of fuel left…"

"Sherlock," she licked her lips and titled her head back against the wall behind her, looking upwards. High, high above them, she could see a glimpse of the night sky and the moon hanging high in the sky, allowing snippets of moonlight through what seemed to bars or some sort of covering. She stared up at it, heart thundering in her ears, "It doesn't make any sense, none of it has. The random girl on the plane who happens to be lost in the sky somewhere, and who happens to be the perfect means to emotionally manipulate us into doing Eurus's bidding. The same little girl who hasn't been able to provide us with even basic answers to where she was coming from, and is seemingly still flying in a plane that, by all rights, should have crashed or run out of fuel by now…"

"What are you saying, Amelia?" John asked softly, almost sounding afraid now, and as she looked back across to him, she could see his wide eyes looking back at her.

She took a deep breath and slowly released it, "What if…she doesn't exist?" she said carefully, her voice heavy, "What if the little girl never existed? What if she was always just a means to push us into doing what Eurus wanted us to do, by hanging the threat of harming a child over our heads?"

"But…we don't know that for sure," he reminded her, but even he sounded nervous now, afraid that they had been tricked this whole time.

"No," she agreed, sighing grimly, "But you have to admit…it makes sense".

There was brief moment of silence, Amelia found herself second guessing even her own words, but she knew that she was right about it. This entire time she had been suspicious, but this made complete sense to her now. How could the plane still be flying all these hours later? Someone would have noticed that it had gone missing. Someone would have found a rogue plane flying by now, and if not, then the unmanned plane would have surely have crashed or run out of fuel by now. There was missing logic to everything.

"It makes sense," Sherlock said quietly, almost as if he was whispering, seemingly afraid to be overheard, "But…we also don't know for sure," he hesitated, before sighing, "We have to treat it as if the girl is real. Is Mycroft with you?"

"Agreed, and no," she said, squinting around them again, "He's not here, but it's awfully dark, Sherlock…"

"Are you sure you're okay?"

She almost smiled, "I'm okay".

"John?"

"Yeah," John said instantly, not hesitating, "I'm fine".

"All right. Well, just keep exploring. Tell me anything you can about where you are".

"The walls are…" John began speaking, and Amelia could make out through the gloom that he had turned and, seemingly, touched his hand against the wall behind him, "…rough. They're a rock, I guess…"

"What are you standing on?"

Amelia glanced down at the murky water she was standing in, which easily came up to her knees. She experimentally stomped her right foot on the ground, before dragging her boot over the surface…only her foot would barely move. She swallowed, hard, and tried not to let her thoughts linger on the fact that her ankle was chained.

"It's pretty solid," she said with a small frown, processing the fact that they were very much trapped in this dark, tight, water logged…tunnel for a second, "It feels fairly even and level, though. Stone, I'd say, but there's about two feet of murky water obscuring our eyes from it properly…" she took a steadying breathe, preparing to deliver the most concerning aspect of her assessment, "But, eh…Sherlock. One little thing to consider…we're chained at the ankles down here".

"What?" John gasped, seemingly not having realised before. He immediately tried to lift his leg, only to find that he, too, was also chained. In the darkness she could see him lean down, dipping his hand seemingly into the water, trying to feel around for something, "Hang on…" he grunted slightly, after a moment, "I can feel something else…" she heard the water move and his shadowed form seemed to briefly fold in on itself, before straightening out. She held him softly inhale sharply, "Bones. There are bones in here".

Amelia's mouth went completely dry and she stiffened, her eyes widening in horror. Bones? She looked down at the water she stood in, smelling and drying against her flesh, and felt herself gulp at the thought of what awful things might have happened in this place. She had been in a lot of places before were terrible, vile things had happened, but this was swiftly starting to become something of a living nightmare for her. Stuck inside an unknown, dark space with seemingly barely enough room for her to stand with her arms spread out on either side of her, with two feet of foul water lapping at her knees and with her ankle chained to the floor. Her addled mind was putting the pieces together, but she didn't want to. She was okay with water up to her hips, but any higher than that and she was going to start panicking, and while nothing had happened yet….she was starting to wonder if that might be the end result of all of this.

"What kind of bones?" Sherlock asked over the link.

"Uh," John seemed to be examining the bones, trying to, anyway, with the limited lighting that they had, his voice sounding wary, "I dunno…small".

There was a pause.

"Redbeard," Sherlock suddenly breathed, sounding shocked.

Amelia tensed even more, her eyes widening, "What?" she said quickly, "Sherlock, what does that mean?" she waited, desperately, needing to him to it was nothing…but nothing came. She swallowed, hard, feeling ill, "Sherlock, what does that mean? Sherlock? Sherlock!"

Nothing. No response. She brought her hands up and grabbed at her head, bowing her head as she tried to focus on breathing. Panicking was the worst thing she could do right now, they needed to stay calm and wait for Sherlock to figure out whatever this puzzle was. She trusted he would find them in time, she knew he would. God, please, find them in time. She was shaking all over, she didn't even realise that she was causing the water she stood in to ripple, but she almost jumped out her skin when she felt a cold, wet hand suddenly land on her arm, nor could she fight back the embarrassing yelp that came from her throat.

"Amelia," John was peering at her worriedly, having taken a small step towards her during her brief lapse of panic. She could see his expression now that he was closer, face pale and eyes wide, alarm and worry written plainly across his features. His grip on her arm tightened, "Amelia, it's going to be alright, yeah?" he gave her a pointed look, forcing a painfully obvious, comforting smile, one that really didn't help, "Sherlock will figure this out. He always does".

The smile and words weren't overly comforting, much as John was trying, but the fact that he was trying, even though she could see how terrified and desperately hard he was trying to stay calm. She couldn't help but admire him all the more for that, and it helped her to focus on something else. She smiled warily at him and reached up to wrap her arms around him in a tight hug.

"You're right," she said as he hugged her back tightly, "Sherlock has got this. He'll figure it out, he'll get us out of here," she took a deep breath and briefly squeezed her eyes shut, "We just have to…keep it together and tell him whatever we can that'll help him".

"Exactly," he nodded, pulling back from her, giving her a wide, if rather strained, smile, "We've got this. Sherlock's got it".

She nodded firmly in agreement…hoping whole heartedly that whatever happened, Sherlock would swiftly tie everything up and find them, and do it all safely and without getting hurt himself. They just had to…hold on, breathe deeply, and carry out the limited investigation that they could do from here to help him the best that they could. Whatever was going on from Sherlock's side right now, she knew he had it handled. He always did.

"Right," she cleared her throat, frowning thoughtfully as she looked around them, "So, let's figure out where we are. Obviously, it's not Sherrinford…"

"It's not?" John blinked, and shot her a slightly bemused, sideways look, "How can you tell? I can't even see my hand in front of my face, Amelia".

"Sherrinford was far too new. This is old, quite, quite old. Besides, can you smell the ocean at all? Can you hear any waves?"

"All I can smell us stagnant water".

"Exactly," she nodded, smirking slightly to herself, "Trust the pregnancy nose, please. We're nowhere near the sea right now".

John considered her words and she could see him looking around, too, "Okay…" he said slowly, "So where are we?"

Amelia looked around them carefully; biting on her bottom lip…stone curved walls that seemed to form something of a small circle, two feet of stagnant, murky water. No windows to be seen, but if she looked up she could see snippets of the sky…she looked more closely up at the sky, watching as the thick clouds in the night sky rolled across the moon, obscuring its light largely from view, but she could make out what seemed to be grass or weeds sticking up around the edges of the opening above them. Her heart sank and she felt sick.

"Oh," she breathed, almost weakly.

"What?" John questioned immediately, alarmed, head whipping sharply around to stare at her, "What's wrong?"

"I just figured out what we're trapped in," she said softly, feeling as if she truly had just walked into the start of a living nightmare for her. She slowly reached up to her head, where the comm. device was sitting, and pressed it, hoping that perhaps the connection between them and Sherlock might open again, "Sherlock?" she called, eyes travelling back up towards the sky, a lump forming in her front, "Sherlock, please, answer me. Sherlock?"

"Amelia?" Sherlock suddenly came over the link, and Amelia very nearly sunk back against the wall in relief.

"Oh, thank God," she sighed, briefly closing her eyes, "Holmes…I know where we are, John and I. It's a well, we're chained to the bottom of a well".

There was a brief pause…

"Why would there be a well in Sherrinfield?"

"We're not at Sherrinfield," she told him, her tone grim, "We've been moved, I'd bet probably to Musgrave Hall. It makes sense, where else would Eurus have her big final show down then her childhood home?" she waited, expecting to hear Sherlock say something, respond, but there was nothing. She gave it a good ten seconds, frowning as she looked apprehensively at John, "Sherlock?"

Nothing.

"I think he's gone again," John said quietly, sighing heavily.

Amelia grimaced, her lips pressing into a thin line as she leaned heavily back against the curved wall behind her, "How much do you think he heard?" she asked flatly, looking gloomily to John.

"Probably just the bit about us being stuck in the well".

"Yeah, I figured as much," she considered sinking down to sit on the ground, she was already shaking with cold from the water and covered in it, so what was a little more? And her legs were so tired, she was so tired…but the idea of willingly submerging herself in water was enough to deter her. She sighed and shook her head, "I don't want to die like this," she found herself saying, almost whispering it, "Drowning…God. It's my worst nightmare".

"We're not going to die," John reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly, even though she could feel how frightened he was from how tightly he was holding her hand, from the faint tremble in his fingers, "Sherlock's gonna get us out of this".

She bit her bottom lip, eyes burning as she kept her eyes tightly shut. She just wanted to shower and sleep, and then shower again and eat one of Mrs Hudson's full English breakfasts. Then she wanted to sleep and maybe cry a little, preferably with Sherlock there to awkwardly try and hug her and give her tissues, before once again showering and eating a very large bowl of Shepperd's pie, her favourite comfort food. She wanted to watch some stupid reality show in her pyjamas with Molly and then coo over pictures of Rosie with John. She wanted to tease Lestrade and pretend to hate Mycroft. She desperately craved to just be alone with Sherlock, like they used to be, even if it was just a simple night with him silently fiddling around with his lab in the kitchen while she played on her phone, as long as he was around her, she would be happy. She wanted her normal life, her comfortable happy life, where no one was in danger and everyone got along and were happy again. She wanted to go home.

"I'm so sorry, John," she said thickly, tears spilling passed her closed eyes and down her cheeks, despite her attempts to hold them back. She was so tired of crying today, so sick of just feeling like an out of control, emotional wreck of herself. She wanted to feel strong and brave, but she just didn't, "So, so, sorry that you're here and not at home with Rosie, like you should be".

"Don't apologise," he released her hand, only to wrap an arm around her instead, pulling her into a one arm hug. She wrapped her arm around his waist and dropped her head slightly awkwardly against his, their height difference making it easier. He laughed, but it was slightly strangled, "You didn't exactly kidnap me, did you?"

"Well…" she tried to smile, weakly, "Some might disagree, there was that one time…"

"You didn't kidnap me this time," he clarified, chocking out a surprised laugh, which made her laugh properly, too, even slightly breathlessly, "My point is…" he went on pointedly, "I signed up for this, all of it. I did the moment I moved into Baker Street, honestly. There was no getting away from it. You know that".

"Yeah," she agreed fondly, briefly closing her eyes, "God, it feels like it was yesterday".

She still remembered first coming face-to-face to Sherlock and John, how nervous she had been about Sherlock seeing straight through her, figuring out that her brother was a criminal and outing her for it. She still remembered how they had stood over the body of Jennifer Wilson and she had managed to impress Sherlock enough for him to not immediately dismiss her, how John had been so reserved and uneasy. That night changed her life forever, never again was it ever the same, it was so, so much better, even when it was bad, even when she had to go into hiding for two years and pretend to be a school teacher, it was still all worth it. John was the sweetest, bravest person she knew and she adored him, he was everything she wished James could have been and Sherlock…God, even when he infuriated her she still wanted to kiss that man more than anything else. Brilliant, rude, tender, sarcastic, he shouldn't have been capable of making her love him as much as she ended up falling for him, but it really had just happened that way.

Something icy dropped on top of her head and she flinch, almost knocking her head against John as she jumped. She looked up, startled, only for another cold drop to land squarely on her forehead, then another on her cheek, and then on her nose. She stared up at the sky above them in confusion.

"It's not raining…is it?" John asked with a wary tone, looking up too.

"I…" she couldn't find the words, to horrified to speak.

The drops became heavier and thicker, until suddenly water was streaming down and Amelia and John could only gasp in shock, suddenly blasted by the freezing cold water like someone had set off a sprinkler to rain down heavily over their heads. The sound was near deafening and they huddled against the wall, trying to keep out of water as much as they could, squinting against the water as it ran into their eyes. And then, the singing started in their ears.

"'…I that am lost,'" it was Eurus's voice, singing the mournful lullaby over the link in their ears, "'Oh, who will find me, deep down below…'"

"Sherlock?" John called urgently, pressing his finger against his comm. in his ear, "Sherlock!"

"'…The old beech tree. Help succour me now…The East wind blows…Sixteen by six, brother, and under we go….'"

Amelia and John clung to each other as the freezing water poured over them, soaking them completely. Panic was swiftly starting to take over the last ounce of control that Amelia had managed to screw together, chest heaving as water dropped into her eyes and mouth, and she didn't even want to think about where the water might have come from, if it was clean or not. It was rising higher already, now coming to at least to her hips and there was no escaping it. Panicked sobs were lost to the deafening roar of the water and she buried her face into John's neck to try and escape it all, his arms tightly circling her. There was just no escape, none…they were going to drown here…

"Sherlock!" John shouted desperately, "Sherlock!"

"'…be not afraid…'"

"John!" Sherlock suddenly came over the link, buzzing in their ears, dulled by the sound surrounding them, "Amelia!"

"Water's pouring in!" Amelia chocked out, eyes squeezed shut, as if that might save her, "Sherlock, the well's filling with water! Oh, God…!"

"Stay calm, just stay calm! Try as long as you can not to drown!"

"What?" John shook his head, freezing on the spot and pressing a finger against the device in his ear.

Amelia eyes widened and her lips parted in disbelief…that was his words of advice right now? 'Keep calm and don't drown for as long as possible?' This wasn't a bloody T-shirt! They were literally minutes away from drowning, actually drowning, and Sherlock was telling them just take it easy? She never before wanted to throttle someone more desperately then she did in that moment.

"I'm going to find you! I am finding you!"

"You better be, because I am not drowning, Sherlock!" Amelia cried, almost feeling as if she might just go insane if this went on for much longer.

She couldn't seem to breath, the water pouring down her face and hair, the water rising higher all around them, the sound and the song drowning on…it was all too much stimulation, too much fear and panic…she needed to get out into the open. Her chest heaved, until her ribs hurt and she found herself pushing herself out of John's arm, feeling too suffocated to remain even in his comforting embrace. She tried to move as far away as she could from everything, but there was no where left to go in the tiny six feet wide well. She gripped at her head and if John was saying anything or Sherlock, it was lost to her, backing backwards, trying to escape, when her heel caught on something sticking out of the floor and she tripped backwards.

"Amelia!" John's alarmed shout reached her distantly.

He grabbed her wrist in a painfully hard grip that almost tore her shoulder out of her socket, causing her to cry out in pain. But it helped ease her fall, even as they both ended up toppling into the murky, rising waters, briefly submerged completely. The second her head went under, Amelia found herself flashing right back to being just five years old and playing in a pool, seeing it likes snippets on old film as someone shoved her head beneath the water, laughing above her as the water filled her mouth and throat and lungs…she was eleven when she witnessed Carl Powers drown during swimming sports at her brother's school. The older boy had been a champion swimmer, older than them and poplar, and one second he had been in the lead and the next…he had barely struggled, she remembered. No one had even really noticed, not until the rest of the swimmers had reached the end of the pool…It was only a few years ago when she saw the edge of the lake coming into view through the windscreen of the car that she had been trapped inside. She knew that Mycroft's men were right behind her, ready to get her out, but it still didn't stop her from screaming…

"Amelia!" she gasped as she found herself being pulled suddenly up from the water, eyes flying open in shock as she found John practically shaking her, panic and terror written across his features. She tried hard to get her own feet beneath her, leaning against him, but she just couldn't. He gave her another sharp shake, "Amelia! Talk to me!"

"I'm…" she heaved, feeling as if she was chocking, "I'm…okay".

He stared at her in disbelief, because if she had ever lied about anything before, this was surely the biggest one. She was so far from being alright, they both were, truth be told. But they weren't drowning yet, so that was something to cling to.

"I lost my footing," she didn't know why she even told him, it seemed so silly to even mention it when all of this was going on, but yet…it seemed important. She blinked slowly, feeling cast adrift and distant, as if she was seeing everything play out around her through a TV screen, not through her own eyes "I tripped on something…"

"What?" he gaped at her slightly, confusion flashing through his face.

"I said, I tripped…"

"I know," he cut her off quickly, eyeing her in alarm, "But why does it matter?"

Amelia gave him a helpless look not understanding that herself, and perhaps if she was more within her own right mind, she would have laughed at herself. She frowned, though, glancing down at the water, now reaching above the waistband of her jeans.

"There's nothing to trip over, is there?" she said slowly, brain feeling sluggish, but still something inside of her screamed that it mattered.

"Not really, not unless there's more…" he stopped short, bemusement freezing on his face, eyes slowly squinting with thought and then widening again, "…bone," he finished almost to softly for her to hear.

He looked at her warily and slowly slipped his hold free from her, and when Amelia didn't collapse, he seemed satisfied enough to duck down into the water. She watched him numbly as he took a deep breath, before ducking into the water, the top of his head just visible over the rippling water, until he suddenly rose once more. There was something clasped in his hands and as he looked at Amelia, his eyes were wide with a sickening sense of horror.

"I was right, wasn't I?" she stared at him.

He swallowed, bringing a hand up to his ear, "Sherlock?" he called urgently over the link, but he didn't respond, "Sherlock? There's something you need to know," he held up the object in his hands and Amelia swallowed, hard, looking at the small skull that he cradled. The small, human skull, "Sherlock?" he tried again, horror written across his features, "The bones I found…"

"Yes?" Sherlock came over the link, sounding impatient and hurried, "They're dog's bones. That's Redbeard".

"Oh, Sherlock," Amelia breathed, her own panic briefly paused, staring in stricken disbelief at the skull, "I don't think there was ever any dog…Mycroft lied, your own mind lied to protect you…because the truth was just to traumatic…"

God, she wanted to be there with him right now while he had to deal with this realisation, the horror of it alone, knowing that a child that you had, seemingly befriended, had been murdered in the most slow, horrible manner and tossed in a well on the same property that you grew up on…how did one deal with that? How did you even try to process it? But she also made everything so clear to her now, she now understood why Eurus was doing this, she could see how Sherlock became the man he did…and why? It was enough to make even her panic and fear briefly subside, enough to give her the tiniest reprieve to gather herself. This wasn't over yet, but she knew Sherlock and this motivation was exactly what he needed to save them.

John tried to scale the wall of the well, but Amelia didn't bother, leaning back against the wall behind her, focusing on breathing deeply. There was no physical way for them to get out, which John swiftly discovered when the chain around his ankle pulled tightly and he fell…Amelia quickly helped him out of the water, back onto his own feet. It was now reaching their collar bones now; they had minutes, if that, left. But they also had little more that they could do to escape. They had to wait to be saved; it was up to Sherlock now. She squeezed Jon's hand and stood on her tip-toes, as much as it might hurt to do so, just trying to keep as high above the water as possible.

"I need your help," Sherlock said suddenly over the line, causing them to jump slightly. He sounded very focused now, "I'm trying to solve a puzzle".

"But what about the plane?" the little girl's voice came through, then, sounding shaken.

"Well, the puzzle will save the plane," he replied swiftly, and Amelia grimaced…the girl wasn't real, she was convinced of it, but she also suspected that the timing needed to be right, otherwise Eurus could easily turn this all around. There was a reason Eurus was putting on the act of the girl, it was all fitting together, "…The wrong dates," he muttered, seemingly to himself, then, "She used the wrong dates on the gravestones as the key to the cipher…and the cipher is the song…"

"Is this strictly relevant?" John shouted, struggling to keep his head above the rising water…given his slightly shorter height, he was finding it increasingly harder the Amelia, but not by much more.

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

"Good, because I think we might only have a minute or two left, Holmes!" Amelia gasped out, her neck starting to hurt from how she titled her head right back, trying desperately to keep herself from going under.

"I know, I know…"

"The lights are getting closer," the small voice of the little girl came over, increasingly alarmed.

"Hush, now. Working. Let's number the words of the song…then rearrange the numbered words to match the sequence on the gravestones…" there was a abrupt pause and silence, Amelia could do nothing but focus on the sound of his breathing in her ear, the only thing that was keeping her somewhat sane, the only thing keeping her from thinking of the water that was about to come up to their chins….His voice almost startled her, soft and stilted, "I…am…lost…help…me…brother…Save…my…life…before…my…doom…I…am…lost…without…your…love…Save…my…soul…seek…my…room…" he gasped sharply, "Oh, God!"

Of course, Eurus was hiding out in her bedroom, it should have been obvious…Amelia leant her head back against the stone wall behind her, squeezing her eyes shut. She found hear Sherlock running frantically, she assumed, back into the likely burnt out ruins that remained of his childhood home, but the hope she had clung to was fast dwindling for her. She just hoped that Sherlock wouldn't hear her and John drown, she hoped that the link would die before then. She didn't want that for him, nor did she want him to be the one to find them, if it was too late.

"We're going to crash!" the girl cried, terrified, "I'm going to die!" she screamed…

John grunted from beside Amelia, who glanced over to him to see him desperately pulling on the chain around his ankle, trying to free himself. She watched him silently, heart breaking and looked back up at the sky, seeing the glow of the moon high above them breaking through the clouds. This wasn't how it was supposed to all end, it just wasn't meant to be like this.

"I think it's time you told me your real name," Sherlock said firmly, voice slightly breathless from likely running about everywhere.

"I'm not allowed to tell my name to strangers" the girl replied anxiously.

"But I'm not a stranger, am I? I'm your brother…" his voice softened, growing gentle, "I'm here, Eurus".

Amelia almost smiled tightly, lips firmly pressed together out of fear for swallowing more water then already had. She had been right about the girl, all along, she had been right. She supposed it was nice to know she hadn't lost her edge, right up until her own death, that she could still be a world class detective and a mother…no, don't think of that. She bit back a sob in her throat. She couldn't think on that, so instead, she listened.

"You're playing with me, Sherlock," Eurus spoke in the childish voice still, "We're playing the game".

"The game, yes," Sherlock agreed, almost breathlessly, all the while maintaining the soft, gentle tones of his voice, "I get it now. The song was never a set of directions".

"I'm in the plane, and I'm going to crash. And you're going to save me".

"Look how brilliant you are," he said softly, awe and amazement in his voice, "Your mind has created the perfect metaphor. You're high above us, all alone in the sky, and you understand everything except how to land," he paused briefly, and when he spoke again he sounded almost breathless, trepidation lacing his voice, "Now, I'm just an idiot, but I'm on the ground. I can bring you home".

Amelia had never been prouder, she really hadn't been.

"No," a small voice almost whimpered, "No, no…" her voice changed abruptly to her normal, mature sounding voice, but the tears lacing it remained, "It's too late now".

"No, it's not," Sherlock insisted gently, but firmly, "It's not too late".

A soft, whispering sob filled the line, "Every time I close my eyes, I'm on the plane," she admitted shakily, sobbing, "I'm lost, lost in the sky and…no one can hear me".

Another soft sob filled the line.

"Open your eyes. I'm here. You're not lost any more…" there was a long pause and Amelia feared that the connection had been broke, her head just barely remaining above the water now, when a soft sob filled the line and the sound of someone taking a shaky breathe followed, "Now, you…you just…you just went the wrong way last time, that's all," he breathed reassuringly, his voice growing almost tearful himself, "This time, get it right," his voice grew clearer, then, firmer, "Tell me how to save my friends".

Amelia cringed as she heard John groan painfully, her head snapping around to see John just barely keeping his head above the water, his face screwed up with the effort. She almost burst into tears, but she feared that she was, ironically, to dehydrated and tired to cry now. She couldn't even reach out and try and hug him right now, which was possibly the worst part of it all.

"Eurus…" Sherlock said softly, pleadingly, "Help me save Amelia Wilson and John Watson".

The line went dead and Amelia almost chocked out a helpless sob. Of course, it died, right before they found out if Eurus was going to help Sherlock or not. She shook her head and stretched her neck as far as she could to try and escape from the rising water, her gaze falling on John, who continued to fight and struggle just a foot away from her. She could only watch him.

"Just…a little longer, John," she called in a strangled, desperate voice, "Just hold on a little longer. He'll find us".

John grunted, unable to speak as he fought to just keep his head above the water. It was agony. Amelia's neck and legs burned, her arches hurt more than any high heels had ever hurt her, and her ribs burned from the heaving gasps that were partly caused by panic, partly caused from sucking in as much air as she possibly could. Even a few seconds felt like forever, never mind minutes, and the fact that there was no means to judge how much time had passed, save for the rising of the water, was just torture.

And then, there was a loud bang from above them. They both gasped and looked up; squinting as a bright torchlight suddenly fell upon them, followed by a long length of rope. Immediately, they grabbed for the rope or something tangible to hold onto and waited for Sherlock to come down to cut them free…

…...

Amelia was still shaking, even after being bundled up in Sherlock's coat and two blankets, even after being settled into the back of an ambulance on an uncomfortable gurney with paramedics fussing about her under the watchful eyes of Sherlock. He hadn't left her side since pulling her from the depths of the well, even when the paramedics had tried to insist that he needed checking out, he had very firmly dismissed them and informed them that he was hardly the one they needed to be worrying about presently. In the end, Lestrade had to step in, since John had been being tended to over by another ambulance at the time. It wasn't only the paramedics who had swarmed the ruins of Musgrave, the police also surrounded the place, setting up the crime scene and taking Eurus into custody. John joined Sherlock and Amelia just as they brought out Eurus from the house. Gone was the cold, smirking psychopath that had tortured them for hours on end, replaced instead by a pale, shaken, almost tearful looking woman.

Amelia sat upright with her back leaning against the gurney, watching everything unfold through the open back doors of the ambulance, gazing at Eurus in the distance as she was brought passed them by two police officers. Sherlock, she noted, immediately tensed and frowned, watching closely from his position beside her, while John turned in the open doorway to watch, wrapped up snugly in a woollen blanket. They silently watched until Eurus was led away from their line of vision. Amelia thought that they were all likely feeling a number of mixed emotions, Amelia herself felt conflicted regarding the thin, helpless looking woman be escorted passed them, while she suspected that John likely wished to never see her again, and Sherlock…well. She glanced at the side of his face, his frown still firmly in place. She thought he was likely the most conflicted of them all. That was when Lestrade approached them, stepping up to the back doors of the ambulance to peer in at them. He gave Amelia a concerned look.

"How's things?" he asked her pointedly.

"I've scored myself a night in hospital for observation," Amelia sighed slightly, pulling a slight face, "But aside from a little dehydration, some spectacular bruises, and a bit of shock, I'm looking pretty good".

"Good," he smiled, relief plain to read in his features, "Take it easy for the next several months, yeah? I reckon you've earned it".

"She will be," Sherlock said firmly, sparing Amelia a brief glance.

Amelia shot him a look, "What is this, the 50's?" she scoffed, rolling her eyes as she adjusted her blanket more primly over her shoulders, "One kidnapping and almost drowning, and suddenly I'm a delicate doll. Dear Lord, if I knew this was what it took to force you to do my bidding, Holmes, I might have tried milking this pregnancy thing a little more months back".

He gave her a flat, un-amused glare, "Are you done?"

She gave him a tired grin, "Never".

His features softened at that, despite himself, but even he couldn't quite conceal the slight upturn to his lips a he shook his head and looked away from her. John smiled gently and peered between them, while Lestrade looked as if he was trying hard not to laugh, though he sobered when Sherlock pinned him with a glare. He cleared his throat.

"Eh, another thing…" he gave Sherlock an almost reassuring look, "I spoke to your brother".

"How is he?" Sherlock asked immediately.

"He's a bit shaken up, that's all," he replied, shrugging lightly, "She didn't hurt him; she just locked him up in her old cell".

"What goes around comes around," John muttered grimly, and Sherlock frown very slightly.

"She wasn't entirely to blame, John," Amelia said quietly, shifting slightly uncomfortably…she wasn't ready to forgive, nor could she ignore what had happened. But…call her mad, but she also found it impossible to be angry at Eurus. It was obvious that Eurus had been mentally damaged by her own intelligence, she needed help and support, being locked away alone was the last thing she needed, much like James needed help when they were kids and it was overlooked by their parents. She couldn't blame Eurus, there was no one to be blamed, really, it was all just…sad.

Sherlock and John looked at her sharply, disbelief and shock written across their faces, while Lestrade blinked at her blankly for a moment.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Lestrade questioned, peering at her with sincere concern.

"Yes," she said firmly, giving them all a slightly annoyed glare, "Perhaps I have a different perspective on matters, considering my own history with my own psychopathic brother who tormented me half my life, have you considered that?"

John almost looked ashamed at that; as if he had forgotten all about Amelia's own psycho brother, while Sherlock's expression swiftly grew carefully blank. Lestrade shifted awkwardly and grimaced.

"Right…"

"Sir?" an officer called suddenly from several feet away, looking expectantly at Lestrade, who turned slightly to eye the man.

"Give me a moment…" he said to them, turning to follow the officer.

"Oh, um…" Sherlock cleared his throat pointedly, causing the man to pause and briefly turn back to them. He frowned uncomfortably, "Mycroft…make sure he's looked after," he smiled almost affectionately, just slightly, "He's not as strong as he thinks he is".

He nodded, "Yeah, I'll take care of it," he assured him, sparing Amelia one last small smile and nod, before he turned to walk over to the waiting officer.

"Thanks, Greg," Sherlock said lightly, almost absently.

They all froze and looked at him in shock; Lestrade almost stumbled to a stop in his disbelief, while Sherlock simply frowned very slightly to himself, looking grimly thoughtful as he looked down at his lap. His hand reached out and, much to Amelia's own disbelief, found her hand as it gripped the edge of her blanket tightly around her middle. He gently pulled it free from the blanket, his large, hand encasing her own, and in full view for everyone and anyone to see. He didn't even bat an eye, though.

"Sherlock?" she eyed him carefully, frowning in concern, "Do you…want to talk about it?"

"I said I'd bring her home," he said softly, after a brief pause. He lifted his gaze level with her own, misery written plainly in his gaze, "I can't, can I?"

She sighed heavily and shook her head slowly, "No," she said softly, almost gently, "She's…beyond that point now".

"But, hey," John tried comfortingly, giving him a reassuring look, "Look at it like this, Sherlock. You gave her context. That's what she was looking for, right?"

He glanced at him, his eyebrows arching slightly in bemusement, "Is that good?" he asked.

"It's not good," he said slowly, frowning thoughtfully, "It's not bad, it's…" he briefly looked away and cringed slightly, before sighing and looking back across to Sherlock. He gave him a small, sad smile, "It is what it is".

Sherlock seemed to blink slowly at that and Amelia looked curiously between them, sensing that she was missing out on a conversation here that she hadn't be present for, but it seemed to help Sherlock, who looked slightly more at ease.

"And it doesn't have to end here," she told him, making him look back around to her. She gave him a soft smile, "You can always visit there, you know that, right? Perhaps you could play the violin for her? Studies have shown that music has an incredible impact on the brain, maybe you can use that to connect to her".

"You don't think that might be…unwise?"

"She's your sister," she said lightly, shrugging slightly, "If my brother was still alive I'd do whatever I could to try and have a relationship with him, and he didn't love me half as much as Eurus loves you, Sherlock," she squeezed his hand and sighed tiredly, giving him a gentle smile, "Just…please don't ask me to join you any time soon. I've had quite enough of Sherrinford for a long while yet".

…

Sherlock stayed with her all night, he barely left her side after they were taken to the hospital and Amelia was cleared medical fit, and the twins found to be utterly unharmed from everything. It was shocking, truly, but aside from nasty bruising and being strictly reminded to take it easy, Amelia was released the following morning. But not everything was finished yet, Mr and Mrs Holmes were set to arrive in London to meet with Mycroft at his office and they were insisting that Sherlock attend. Sherlock had insisted that Amelia needn't join them…but she firmly responded that she wished to. She didn't know what good she might do, but she was one of the few people to have a unique understanding about what it was like to have a deranged relative. She wanted to be there to support Sherlock and Mycroft, if nothing else, for what she was positive was going to be quite the trying meeting.

She wasn't mistaken.

"Alive?" Mrs Holmes positively exclaimed in shock, her eyes widening in disbelief, looming over Mycroft's desk, "For all these years?"

Mr Holmes sat in a chair before Mycroft's desk, both parents looking shell-shocked and confused, while Mycroft sat behind his desk in front of them, frowning uncomfortably under their glare. Amelia sat in a third chair slightly off to the side of the office, towards the back, quite dressed down in flats and minimal makeup and plain jeans, and a jumper, listening with a slight grimace. Sherlock stood behind her, by the closed door of the office, looking quite stony.

"How is that even possible?" she demanded angrily, gaping at her eldest son, angst.

"What Uncle Rudy begun…" Mycroft began slowly, only to hesitate, eyes downcast on his desk, "…I thought it best to continue".

"I'm not asking you how you did it, idiot boy, I'm asking how could you?"

Amelia frowned slightly, glancing warily at Mrs Holmes…God, she could appreciate her outrage and anger, but she also felt for Mycroft. She really did.

"I was trying to be kind," Mycroft said quietly, finally lifting his gaze up to look directly at his mother.

"Kind?" Mrs Holmes repeated, shocked. She heaved several large gasps, her face crumbling with pain, "Kind?" her voice wobbled with emotion and she blinked rapidly, tears filling her eyes, "You told us our daughter was dead".

"Better that then tell you what she had become," he replied grimly, and she stared at him, horrified. His lips briefly pursed in displeasure, "I'm sorry".

Mr Holmes rose to his feet, then, moving to brace his hands on the desk between them as he looked gravely at his son, "Whatever she became, whatever she is now, Mycroft…" he glared sternly at him, "She remains our daughter".

"And my sister," he reminded them simply, without blinking.

"Then you should have done better," Mrs Holmes glared at him angrily, full of disappointment.

Amelia ducked her head, sighing to herself. They weren't wrong, things should have been done better, but Mycroft was one man. He did what he thought was the best for his family, a choice made by someone else, before him, and he merely continued it, because it had seemingly worked and why go against what had worked before? She felt sorry for Mycroft; she did, even if she also thought he had acted very foolishly and unfairly.

"He did his best," Sherlock said softly, glancing up as Mycroft blinked sharply and looked across the room to his baby brother, lips parting in shock.

"Then he's very limited," Mrs Holmes huffed, shaking her head.

"Where is she?" Mr Holmes demanded, glaring at Mycroft coolly.

Mycroft shifted uncomfortably, though he didn't look at either of his parents, "Back in Sherrinford," he said, "Secure, this time," he did look at his father, then, giving him a pointed look, "People have died…Amelia was almost one of them".

Mr and Mrs Holmes blinked, startled, and looked sharply around to Amelia. She sighed slightly under their alarmed, worried eyes.

"Evidently, she failed," she said softly, resting a hand absently on her stomach, "But…truth be told, Sherrinford is the only place that Eurus can safely remain now," she gave them an apologetic look, for having to say it aloud, but she meant it, even if she knew it would hurt them, "I'm sorry, but should she be released she will kill again, of that there's no doubt. She has no concept of right or wrong, zero comprehension of anything regarding morality or ethics, nor does she possess the basic ability to understand societal rules," she grimaced slightly and dropped her gaze to her knees, "She has to remain locked up…and I know that's heartbreaking to hear, when you've only just got her back, but she can't be set free. She just…can't".

They considered her words; Amelia could practically feel their heartbreak at her words, seemingly listening far more to her then to Mycroft right now. A heavy silence fell over the room, before Mr Holmes sighed and turned back to Mycroft, frowning at him.

"We deserve to see her, at least," he said strongly, "When can we?"

Mycroft merely gazed at him grimly, "There's no point," he said.

Mrs Holmes instantly bristled, her eyes widening and flashing furiously, "How dare you say that?" she gasped, voice strangled with barely restrained tears.

"She won't talk," he explained with a briefly pained grimace, closing his eyes, "She won't communicate with anyone in any way," he looked sternly back across to his mother, trying to get through to her, "She has passed beyond our view. There are no words that can reach her now".

"Sherlock..." Mrs Holmes spun around to fix her younger son with wide, near pleading eyes, filled with tears and desperation. Sherlock looked up to her in surprise, silently staring at her, and she blinked at him expectantly, "Well? You were always the grown-up..." Mycroft stared at his brother with a frown over his desk, looking more like a child then Amelia had ever seen him, while Mrs Holmes looked hopefully at Sherlock, "What do we do now?"

Sherlock took a deep breath and slowly released it, turning his head to look down at Amelia, who caught his gaze. He held her eyes for several seconds of silence, before he slowly reached down and placed a hand on her shoulder. She covered his hand with her own and he turned his gaze back to the rest, back to his stricken, desperate parents, back to his broken brother.

"Amelia and I discussed the matter last night," he informed them, his voice soft, but they all heard it easily, everyone hanging on to his words, "I will visit Eurus once a week, every week. I won't try to speak to her..." his gaze lingered on Mycroft pointedly, "...I won't try to fix her..." he looked to his parents, almost apologetically, "I'll play for her. We might not be able to reach her, but music might, or so Amelia believes..." he looked down to Amelia, who looked up at him, smiling gently, encouragingly. He smiled faintly in return, "Observations of the heart, after all...that's her area".

"Music therapy has been proven to be effective in clinical studies," Amelia said firmly, looking around the room, giving Mrs and Mrs Holmes an apologetic look, "It might not be enough to bring Eurus back, but perhaps it will bring her back enough for you to see her. Maybe not tomorrow or next week, maybe not even in a year's time, but one day...maybe one day you'll have a glimpse of your daughter and all of the beauty that she is capable of, Mr and Mrs Holmes. Beauty that shines best in her music".

Once upon a time, Sherlock would had scoffed at her, told her she was a sentimental fool, dismissed the entire notion as 'Dull' and walked off, but he stood behind her now, his hand on her shoulder, looking directly back at his parents with confidence and a grim sense of resignation, backing her up without flinching at how sentimental and hopeful it all was. And it was hopeful, just a tiny flicker of a possibility, really, but for Mr and Mrs Holmes, who had lost their only daughter so many times, only to just get her back to lose her again to her own daemons, it was a start.

...

Baker Street was a mess, having been blown apart from the inside, leaving nothing but the burnt and charred remains of what had once been their home and hideaway, their safe haven and work. The first time Amelia walked back inside what had once been the living room; she had burst into tears at the sight. Destroyed, burnt books littered the floor with bits of shattered glass and torn apart furniture; all of it just strewn across the chard floorboards, still covered in the blanked rug that had once covered them. The air smelt thickly of ashes and smoke, the picture frames that Amelia had once placed on the mantelpiece blown apart in the explosion, while the windows were shattered, letting the cool London air outside fill the room.

"It's okay, Amelia," John consoled her, giving her a reassuring, gentle smile seeing her tears slip down her cheeks. He wrapped an arm around her, hugging her tightly to his side, looking bracingly around what was once all of their home, at one point or another, "We'll fix it. That's what we do, eh?"

She sniffed and nodded, forcing a tearful smile as she looked up to Sherlock, his sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up and an oddly reassuring expression on his face. Yeah...that's what they did, they did fix the broken, or at least figured out how the broken thing happened, kind of, sort of...actually, no, she wasn't going to pick apart John's attempt to comfort her with logic. It was time to get their hands dirty.

So, that's what they did, they started picking up the pieces, putting the puzzle back together again. It took time, lots of work and cleaning, Amelia could only do so much, forced, in the end, to have to be the one to do all the organising for contractors and builders, and before they knew it the flat was starting to look a little more like home again. Sherlock and Mrs Hudson came to live with her at her townhouse while the flat was fixed up, and for once Amelia finally felt as if her stay at the townhouse was complete. She felt happy, waking up everyone morning wasn't just met with an itch to escape the place that should have been her home, but she actually found that she enjoyed it...or more importantly, that she enjoyed living with Sherlock, having him around, it was really what she wanted.

She loved him, she wanted to be with him, for them to be together and to try this whole parenting thing, together. She didn't just want to live in a house ten minutes down the road from him, seeing him, even if it was every day, wasn't enough. She wanted to see him when she woke up and when she went to bed at night, she wanted to roll her eyes at the cluttered mess he left in his wake and nag him to do the laundry, because it was his turn and she was getting to pregnant to throw the clothing in the machine. She wanted a family, her family, dysfunctional and annoying, and completely hers, and Sherlock was her family. So was John, and Mycroft, and Mrs and Mr Holmes, and Mrs Hudson, Lestrade, Molly, hell, even Euros. It was funny, but when she first met Sherlock and John she didn't have a family to speak of, now she had so much, it made her almost cry.

The months ticked on by, life settled, Amelia and Sherlock found their way back to each other, though was there any ever doubt of that? John would later laugh and tell everyone during his best man speech that he had always known they would be together; that he'd seen it from the second Amelia had deduced Sherlock in front of them over the corpse of Jennifer Wilson. Baker Street came together as it had been before, right down to the exact yellow spray painted smiley face on the same black and white wallpaper, even down to the vase of red roses that Amelia always kept on the mantelpiece. The clients came and went, each case as shocking and amazing, and unbelievable as the last, from puppets to real life Vikings, to parenthood...Life continued, as it always did at Baker Street, like it always would.

One last chapter to go! I cried and I laughed while crying, and then had to stop writing for ten minutes to try and calm myself down. It's actually over...I'm shocked.

I hope you liked it, tell me what you thought :)