The Final Problem, Part 3
Amelia supposed there was a certain irony to being tossed into the cell that had once housed Eurus for the past few decades. It wasn't as chilly as the prison upstairs had been, at least, the air kept to a pleasant temperature, but it was still far from overly nice as she perched herself on the edge of the bed that John had been draped over, the only bed in the entire concrete, bright cell, poor John having been knocked out cold after his very brief escape by a gun butt. Mycroft stood off to the side of the room, standing and leaning against the wall with a brooding frown, while Sherlock paced the length of the cell, hands behind his back and a tight, rigid expression on his features. He had the start of some nasty bruising just visible beneath the collar of his shirt, Eurus having strangled him a little when she had managed to catch him off guard. She had resisted saying that she had warned him to be careful, but seeing the look on his face when they had all been brought into the cell, she had decided now wasn't the moment and, so, she had taken up silent watch over John. She sighed and glanced at John, only to see his eyes moving rapidly beneath his closed lids and his brow creasing. He made a small, pained grimace and she smiled faintly in relief.
"He's waking up," she told the others, leaning closer to the man.
John groaned softly and slowly, still cringing, cracked his eyes open, only to squint painfully against the bright light over head, which had to sting his eyes. Amelia, taking pity on him, raised her hand over his face to give him a little shade from the light, smiling faintly in amusement as John instantly stilled and peered blurrily up at her hand, looking caught torn between alarm and being grateful.
"Amelia?" he asked hesitantly.
"If you can recognise me simply by my hand, we've clearly spent far too much time together," Amelia commented lightly, "I mean, it's not even as if I wear any rings or have a unique scar or freckle..."
John sighed slightly and briefly closed his eyes, "No," he agreed, opening his eyes again, looking a little more alert, "But you're the only one who'd bother to think of shielding my eyes, so it could only be you, couldn't it?"
"That was...quite well deduced," she grinned slightly, pulling her hand back from hovering over his face, since he seemed to be improving.
John gave her a faint grin in return, before grimacing and shifting slightly against the pillow's stacked up behind his head. He brought his hand up to touch the back of his head, poking at the no doubt sore lump.
"How are you?" Sherlock asked from across the room, pausing in his pacing to spare the man and Amelia a concerned look.
He grimaced, eyebrows arching slightly in surprise at the sound of Sherlock's voice, "Bit of a lump," he mumbled, pulling his hand away from his head.
"True dat," he went back to his pacing, "But you have your uses," he shot him a small smirk, crossing the length of the cell once more.
Amelia laughed lightly at that, earning a small, fleeting wink from Sherlock. She shifted aside to give John room to swing his legs over the side of the bed, the man grimacing and cringing the whole while, before he paused once he was sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, face briefly screwed up in pain. He sighed, eyes closed.
"Did you see your sister?"
"Yes".
"How was that?" he touched at the back of his head again...Amelia rolled her eyes and grabbed his hand, forcing it back down and giving him a flat look, when he blinked at her blankly.
Sherlock took a deep, almost bracing breath, "Family's always difficult," he replied, almost lightly.
"She tried to strangle you, Holmes," Amelia pointed out flatly, casting him a look over her shoulder, "All after she confessed to you that she, apparently, horrifically attacked and brutally sexually assaulted someone while imprisoned here, a confession that came about because you happened to play the violin to her..." she paused, mock lift an eyebrow, "And that's one small part of the conversation you shared with her, remind me again how difficult families can be?"
"You're hardly one to talk, Amelia," Sherlock shot back, sparing her a pointed glare, though it held little heat to it, "Your brother attempted to drown you at least twice, that we know of, and tormented you throughout the duration of your childhood..."
"No offence, but I think Eurus still might take the cake for questionable relatives, Holmes..."
"Is this an occasion for banter?" Mycroft interrupted in exasperation, frowning at Sherlock and Amelia, disapprovingly.
Sherlock looked directly across the room to Amelia, "And speaking of questionable brother's..." he trailed off purposefully, waving his hand at Mycroft.
Amelia smiled faintly at the glare that Mycroft levelled at him, just as the sound of a phone ringing filled the air. They all looked up and John slowly pulled himself off the bed, though Amelia remained.
"Are we phoning someone?" John questioned curiously.
"Apparently," Sherlock said lightly, frowning slightly warily.
He stopped, then, and stared at the Governor, who sat on the floor on the opposite side of the room from Mycroft, knees bent up against his chest and his arms hugging them, looking utterly miserable. He had seemed quite stunned when he'd been chucked in with them, Amelia almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"What's he doing here?" John eyed the man closely.
"As he is told," Sherlock replied grimly, turning to look across the room to John, "Eurus is in control..."
The sound of the phone ringing stopped, then, and there was a squeaking noise as the line connected, right before a breathless, small sob broke through the air. Amelia's eyes widened...that sounded like a little girl.
"Help me!" the young girl pleaded, voice full of tears and fear, "Please, I'm on a plane and everyone's asleep. Help me!"
Amelia's lips parted and worry washed over her, but just as she went to open her mouth to try and say something, anything, that might ease the little girl's fear, the line seemed to be cut and suddenly, all of the lights burned red, casting them into a world blazed by red light. It was unsettling, but hardly any more unsettling by what happened next.
"Hello," James's soft, almost drawling voice came over the speaker system, sounding as if he was speaking to a child, "My name's Jim Moriarty..." Amelia swallowed, hard, looking up at the speaker as if it was her brother, brought back to life, himself, "Welcome...to the final problem!"
And just like that, the lights went back to normal and Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, feeling sick and shaky. She almost jumped when she sensed someone step up beside her, her eyes snapping open and her head quickly lifting, only it was Sherlock and he was eyeing her carefully. He reached out, slowly, hesitantly; as if afraid he'd spook her, and placed a hand on her shoulder, not taking his eyes off hers.
"It's okay, Amelia," he told her gently, his thumb brushing against her shoulder, through her jumper and coat, his calm, steady eyes never once wavering from her own, likely spooked, unsettled eyes, "He's dead".
"He doesn't sound dead," John remarked with a deep frown across his features, sparing Sherlock a slightly pointed, wary look.
Sherlock's eyes narrowed slightly in annoyance, lips pressing together, even as he kept his steady gaze firmly planted on Amelia, "Very helpful, John," he said with a hint of exasperation, "Thank you".
"Sorry…"
"It's fine," Amelia cut in, rolling her eyes slightly as she shook her head. She reached up to brush a hand over her hair, smoothing the already firmly hair sprayed strands back in place, just needing something to do with her hands, something to ground her, other than Sherlock. It was tempting to grab his hand and hold it tightly, but even when they had been happily dating and together, that just hadn't been there way of acting, she wasn't about to do it now, "I know James is dead," she looked back to Sherlock, giving him a tired, but firm look, "I'm not a child, but…." She paused, frowning as she glanced up at the ceiling above them, taking a deep breath, "That doesn't mean that hearing my dead twin's voice after all this time, once again tormenting us, is a lovely trip down memory lane".
Sherlock grimaced, just briefly, and his hand on her shoulder squeezed her gently through the fabric of her clothing, right before the lights flashed and turned a deep, brooding shade of blood red throughout the room, casting them all in the odd gloom. Amelia immediately tensed, eyes narrowing apprehensively…
"This is a recorded announcement," James's voice broke through the air, once again, suddenly sounding curiously calm and professional. It almost reminded Amelia of an air hostesses voice, when they gave the flight instructions right before take-off, "Please say hullo to some very old friends of mine".
"Hello?" the little girl was back, her voice shaky with fear, "I can hear you talking. Please help me!" Amelia clenched her fists together at her sides, swallowing, hard, as she looked sharply to Sherlock, who gazed up at the ceiling with a suspicious, narrowed eyed frown, while John shifted on the spot and Mycroft glanced down, "I'm on a plane and it's going to crash!"
Amelia almost jumped as the lights flared back into the normal, white colour.
"What is this?" Mycroft huffed, full of annoyance and impatience as he lifted his head to glare at Sherlock, as if it was somehow his fault that this little girl was reaching out to them, somehow, amongst this whole mess, "We can't do this!"
"Shut up, Mycroft," Amelia snapped at him, her head sharply turning to pin him with a stony, hard glare of her own. He blinked, before swiftly narrowing his eyes on, though she barely noticed.
"Is someone there?"
Mycroft shook his head and turned his attention back across to Sherlock, his expression shifting into a confused frown, "Is this supposed to be a game?" he questioned, almost incredulously.
"Listen to Amelia, Mycroft, and do shut up," Sherlock replied without blinking an eye, sparing him a stern frown, his tone level and calm.
"Please help me!"
Amelia looked to Sherlock, who took a small step forward and looked down, a slightly uncomfortable look crossing his features, before it was gone. She was curious to see how he might handle this, surprised that he was making the first move to even try to handle it, when she would have expected John to try and step up first, parental instincts and everything. Even she felt the words to try and comfort the terrified girl bubbling on the tip of her tongue.
"Oh, hello," Sherlock called, his voice softer than normal, almost sounding hesitate and gentle, his gaze fixed on the floor, "Um…try….try to stay calm. Just te-tell me what your name is?"
"I'm not supposed to tell my name to strangers," the girl said nervously.
"Of course not," he nodded, still looking steadily at the floor, still keeping his voice light and gentle, "Very good. But, um…I'll tell you mine. My name is…" there was a sudden click over the speaker and he blinked, looking up sharply as silence filled the air, "Hello?"
Amelia bit her bottom lip, not caring if she was ruining her lipstick in the processes as she waited, just wanting to hear that little girl reply…but the large flat screen TV on the other side of the glass walls of the prison cell suddenly flared into life, briefly showing nothing but black and white static, before it cleared suddenly to reveal a woman in her late thirties sitting before the camera in the same black leather office chair that had been in the Governor's office. Her black, curly hair was long and slightly stringy, having been poorly kept, while her bright blue eyes, exactly like Sherlock and Mycroft's own eyes, pierced the camera, but they held no warmth, skin carrying an almost sickly pallor from lack of sunlight, while she seemed to be dressed on a thin white, cotton shirt, something that looked more like pyjamas. If she was chilly in the cool temperature that the entire prison seemed to be kept at, she didn't seem to notice or care.
"Oh dear," Eurus mocked lightly, smiling lightly…but it was an alien, eerie sort of smile, lacking warmth or humour, lacking any emotion, just a show of teeth and a lift of muscles, but it swiftly gained the attention of everyone else in the cell, "We seem to have lost the connection".
"How have you done this?" Mycroft demanded, immediately marching closer to the glass of the cell, glaring angrily at the TV screen on the other side of the glass, "How is any of this possible?"
"You put me here, Mycroft," she said emotionlessly, her smile disappearing from her face without a single hint of its existence, "You brought me treats".
Mycroft looked down, his entire body tensing and he visibly swallowed. Amelia looked at him sharply, eyes narrowing as she crossed her arms across her chest….she could guess now what those treats must surely be, and she was horrified and disappointed that Mycroft would even allow such a thing to have occurred. She thought that Mycroft was smarter than that, evidently, she was mistaken.
"What treats?" John asked curiously, looking pointedly across to Mycroft.
Mycroft looked briefly stricken, in fact, Amelia was startled to see just how horrified he looked, his cheeks paling as he looked sharply around to John, before his gaze darted across to where Sherlock and Amelia stood, eyeing him closely. He pressed his lips together tightly, looking almost afraid as he swiftly darted his eyes back towards the TV screen. Amelia simply shook her head slowly, full of resignation as, on the TV screen, Eurus calmly turned slightly and brought a white remote up, pointing it at something out of sight of them. The lights of the room dimmed into the red cast again and James Moriarty was suddenly peering closely down the camera lens on the screen, looking little different from how he had right before he died, the video holding a red cast over the film, too.
"Clever, Eurus!" James's recording called in a thick, mock American accent, "You go, girl!"
The lights blinked again and the red tint disappeared, returning the lights to normal, while James disappeared off the screen. Sherlock closed his eyes and briefly hung his head, seemingly finally understanding what Amelia had already figured out. John turned sharply to fix Sherlock with a glare.
"How can that be Moriarty?" he demanded angrily, teeth almost gritted.
"Isn't that obvious?" Amelia sighed warily, giving John a sad, resigned smile as his eyes immediately darted across to her, "James and Eurus worked together, John," she looked back across to the blank TV screen, eyeing it darkly, "I'm sure they had much in common, too, terrifying as that is to imagine. Let me guess, James was more than happy to make a collection of recordings for you before his death, Eurus? All for this very day".
The TV screen flared back into life, showing Eurus back before the camera in the Governor's office, smirking slyly at them as she seemed to focus on Amelia. Again, Amelia tried not to be thrown by just how lacking her entire expression was, she'd never witnessed such a lack of human emotion before in a person, most people always had a glimmer of something in their eyes, but Eurus just had nothing. Nothing but cold, hard intelligence.
"Oh, he loved it," Eurus said with something vaguely close to gloating lacing her voice, her smirk still lifting the edges of her thin, pale lips, while those eyes glittered with something faintly resembling delight, "I think he wanted to live up to big brother, you know…" she gave Amelia a pointed, almost knowing glare, "The station master? I think he was always jealous of him".
Amelia narrowed her eyes on the screen, refusing to comment on the subject, even though she knew that Eurus was likely quite right about that little observation. James and Andy had always been close, from the second that Andy had arrived on their doorstep and announced that he was their half-brother, the two had been near instantly close, closer then James had ever been with her, anyway. She could admit it now, but she had been rather jealous herself by how James had seemed to almost worship their half-brother, when James seemed to delight in doing nothing but tormenting her. It only made sense that James would still have felt such admiration for Andy, even after all these years.
"There's another secret brother?" John rounded on Amelia, giving her an incredulous look, before he began laughing, shaking his head as he reached up to cover his face. Amelia sighed slightly, frowning slightly awkwardly as she glanced at him, while neither Sherlock nor Mycroft blinked in the slightest at the news. John pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, grimacing, "Am I the only one who doesn't have a secret sibling hiding out there?"
"Andy's hardly a secret," Amelia frowned faintly, though she still felt a wave of guilt wash over her, "He just never came up…" John scoffed behind his hands and she grimaced slightly, briefly tugging on her bottom lip with her teeth, before sighing heavily, "Okay, yes. I probably should have mentioned that I have an older half-brother, but in my defence, I haven't seen or spoken to Andy since I was twenty, and as far as I know he has nothing to do with anything criminally related…these days. It just didn't seem important, I apologies for the oversight".
He uncovered his eyes to fix her with a tired, rather resigned glare, "'These days?'" he repeated flatly, "So he was also a criminal?"
"A very minor, petty one. He had a rough childhood".
"This is unbelievable".
"Why?" Sherlock cut in with an eyebrow raised, sparing John a faintly amused look, "I think the more unbelievable part about this whole thing is the fact that Amelia isn't a criminal, not that she has another brother," he glanced thoughtfully across to Amelia, then, eyes glinting with something that was oddly serious and teasing, at the same time, "And to think, I was concerned that my genetics would impede any offspring we might share, Amelia. Evidently, I should have been more concerned about yours".
"Criminality isn't genetic, Holmes," Amelia muttered, though she couldn't help thinking that he made a rather good point, her two brothers both being criminals, even if one was a reformed one, wasn't exactly great. How the hell did she escape becoming a criminal herself? And that one time when she was eight when she stole a lip-gloss from the chemist, didn't count.
"The evidence suggests otherwise".
"Is this truly the main concern right now?" Mycroft cut in, seemingly feeling a little less guilty now that the spotlight had shifted off him, sparing the three of them with a pointed look.
"Yes, of course," Sherlock continued lightly, turning his attention back to the TV screen and Eurus, who had seemingly been observing the entire exchange with cool, calculating eyes. He eyed the screen carefully, "Let's focus on the little girl…where is she? Can I talk to her again?"
"Poor little thing," Eurus said without any sympathy, "Alone in the sky in a great big plane with nowhere to land. But where in the world is she?" she shrugged, "It's a clever little puzzle. If you want to apply yourself to it, I can reconnect you, but first…"
She calmly swung her chair around and Amelia's mouth parted in horror, spotting a dark haired woman sitting bound to a chair on the balcony behind Eurus, handcuffs locked around her wrists on either side of the chair, while black tape was across her mouth, silencing her as she appeared to be struggling and sobbing behind the gag. Wind tugged at the woman's purple blouse, while her legs were bare from the knees down. She had obviously been snatched off the street; Amelia suspected she must have been on her way to work, given the pencil skirt and heels.
"That's my wife," a voice gasped, shocked. Amelia blinked and looked around to see the Governor staring at the TV screen with wide, horrified eyes. He suddenly scrambled to his feet and stumbled closer to the glass of the cell, gazing at the TV screen…John frowned and eyed him dubiously, "That's my wife!" he exclaimed, before he paused and blinked, paling, as if realisation had just hit him, hard, "Oh, my God, that's my wife!"
Eurus looked back into the camera, shifting her chair so that she was visible off to the side of the screen, while the Governor's wife remained clearly visible on the balcony.
"I'm going to shoot the Governor's wife," she told them, making it sound as if she was talking about how she planned to get her hair cut next week. Simple and blunt.
Mycroft cringed and looked down, pressing his hand against his lips. John stiffened and Sherlock blinked rapidly, just for a moment, before his expression cleared, while Amelia shifted uncomfortably on the spot. She swallowed, clenching her fists together…Eurus wasn't just saying she was going to murder someone because she wanted to scare them or to show-off, she was saying it because it was easy. She didn't care in the slightest about human life, she didn't seem to care about any life, but exactly what was the point? Revenge seemed far too basic and simple, so why this whole display?
"Please, no!" the Governor cried, staring fixated at the screen, but he gestured at Sherlock, almost pleadingly, "Please. Help her!"
Eurus looked off to the side of the screen, "In about a minute," she slowly looked back into the camera, not even looking at the poor, restrained woman behind her, "Bang. Dead!"
Amelia took a shaky breathe and struggled to keep her expression clear of emotion, but she knew she was likely failing, her lips pressed tightly together as she struggled not to cringe. She looked at Sherlock, who frowned deeply, before he sighed, briefly closing his eyes.
"Please don't do that," he urged Eurus, opening his eyes to give the TV a steady, even look.
"Well, you can stop me," she replied, looking back to the camera pointedly.
"How?"
"There's a gun in the hatch," she informed him, "Take it," she looked steadily back at the camera as Sherlock, frowning warily, walked across to the end of the glass cell, where a black two-way hatch was built into the cell, likely for the exchange of food and clothing. He opened the hatch and bent down to retrieve a pistol, straightening with the weapon in his hands, pointed down, "You want to save the governor's wife?" she raised an eyebrow, eyes fixed on Sherlock, who moved back to stand before the middle of the cell, "Choose either Doctor Watson, Mycroft, or sweet Amy to kill the governor".
Amelia blinked slightly, though she really shouldn't have been so taken aback by the fact that Eurus would know about her childhood nickname, though that was really quite a small thing when Eurus had just announced that she wants Sherlock to pick who ought to commit murder. She looked sharply across to Sherlock, who visibly froze on the spot, while Mycroft paled and covered his mouth, while John briefly turned away and shook his head, barely contained distress crossing his features.
"Oh…oh God!" the Governor exclaimed, gaping in horror at the screen…Sherlock took a small step towards him from behind, his finger flexing on the handle of the gun as he glanced down at it, considering it…
"Sherlock," Amelia shook her head, her eyes widening, seeing him actually readying himself to shoot a man.
Sherlock stopped, his head very slightly bowed still, eyes downcast, and if she hadn't been watching him so intently, she likely would have missed how he squeezed his eyes shut and clenched the handle of the gun so tightly, his knuckles turned white. But she was watching him attentively, fear sweeping through her, until she felt like vomiting. Sherlock would do anything to protect the few that he loves, she knew he wouldn't hesitate to do whatever he felt was necessary, including destroying himself, to do just that, he'd proven it time and time again, it was one of the things that had driven them apart, but God, as much as she admired that trait, she also hated it.
"You know, James said that his baby sister was smarter then she looks," Eurus remarked ideally, causing Amelia to flinch and look back up sharply to see her eyeing her through the screen. Sherlock jolted, too, on the spot, is head snapping up sharply, his expression tightening with restrained apprehension, but his sister only seemed to have eyes for Amelia, eyes that swept over Amelia, assessing and critical, devoid of any emotion, "That still remains to be seen, but in this instance she is right, Sherlock," she swiftly redirected her gaze across to him, "You can't do it, Sherlock. If you do it, it won't count," she briefly glanced back behind her to the governor's wife, desperately still struggling with the handcuffs, "I'll kill her anyway. It has to be your brother, you friend, or your love…" she almost spat out the last word, as if it was something disgusting and disappointing.
The Governor immediately turned around and focused on Mycroft, who looked alarmed by his sudden attention, "You have to do this," he said pleadingly, only Mycroft frantically shook his head, eyes widening in horror at the mere suggestion. The man turned to Sherlock, "Eurus will kill her".
Sherlock eyed him for a moment, before he looked down and slowly, very slightly, tossed the gun into the air and caught it easily by the muzzle, "Doesn't appear we have a choice," he said grimly, turning to walk straight ahead, across the cell…towards Mycroft.
"Right, then," Eurus remarked with a sly, pleased smirk, watching from the screen as Sherlock held the handle of the gun out towards Mycroft, who instantly froze, his lips parting in shock, "Countdown starting".
Amelia had never seen Mycroft quite so pale before, she thought he might actually be sick as he seemed to struggle to try and composure himself, lips pressing together firmly as he glanced at the gun and then Sherlock, still standing before him with a grim frown on his features. She actually felt sorry for Mycroft.
"How long?" Mycroft asked stiffly, voice tight with anxiety.
"No, no, no," Eurus shook her head, almost rolling her eyes in exasperation, "The countdown is for me," she shrugged it off, as if it was of little concern or anything, turning her gaze back to watch Mycroft and Sherlock stare at one another, neither making any move, "Withholding the precise deadline will apply the emotional pressure more evenly. Where possible, please give me an explicit verbal indication of your anxiety levels…" Sherlock frowned very slightly and cast the screen a wary glance, "…I can't always read them from your behaviour".
Mycroft cringed and shook his head, looking steadily at Sherlock, "I can't do this," he breathed, and Sherlock slowly looked back across to him, "Can't…it's murder".
"This isn't murder," the Governor cut in instantly, almost breathless with anxiety as he looked pleadingly at Mycroft, who glanced at him warily, "This is saving my wife".
Amelia shook her head slowly in disbelief, her eyes darting from the Governor, who was literally pleading for Mycroft to shot him and kill him, to Mycroft, who looked positively stricken and torn, nervously dampening his lips with his tongue. It was so odd to see Mycroft, calm, cool, collected, Mycroft Holmes, so frazzled and stressed out, how many international political engagements had he dealt with and barely battered an eye? This was truly freaking him out and, frankly, she didn't blame him in the least, it was an awful position to be placed in.
"I'm particularly focused on internal conflicts," Eurus called through the speaker, sounding almost bored, "Where strategising around a largely intuitive moral code appears to create a counter-intuitive result".
She closed her eyes and shook her head, "We're not lab rats," she muttered tightly, forcing her eyes open to throw the TV screen an angry glare, barely restraining herself from raising her voice.
"Yes, you are," she said with a small, knowing little smirk.
"I will not kill," Mycroft said firmly, and Amelia looked back across to see him eyeing the gun held out towards him with a determined glare, "I will not have blood on my hands".
"Yes, very good," his sister rolled her eyes, looking away from the camera with a scoff, "Thank you".
The Governor gave Mycroft a pleading look, eyes wide, "Killing my wife is what you're doing," he insisted.
Mycroft glanced down at the gun again and then back up to Sherlock, shaking his head firmly, backing away from it with an almost fearful expression, "No," he breathed, voice trembling slightly.
Sherlock eyed him for a moment, lips pressed together tightly, before he lowered his eyes and slowly turned away from him, "Okay, fine," he sighed, spinning right around on the spot and holding the gun out towards John, his expression grim, "John".
Amelia's inhaled sharply, biting her bottom lip to stop herself from refusing on John's behalf, ice water rushing through her very veins as she looked intently at John, who stood with his arms crossed behind his back, which was tall and straight, shoulders pushed back, the very image of the perfect solider. He eyed the Governor silently, before turning to look at Sherlock and the gun offered to him, but the Governor took a hasty step forward, tears filling his eyes.
"Doctor Watson," he said desperately, cutting off whatever John was about to say to Sherlock, "Are you married?"
"I was," John replied stiffly, without taking his gaze off Sherlock.
"What happened?"
"She died".
Amelia tried hard not to flinch, but it was hard and she noticed that Sherlock briefly closed his eyes, glancing down at the ground.
"What would you do to get her back?" the Governor asked as he walked closer to him, staring at him with tearful, pleading eyes…John swallowed and glanced at him, uncomfortable, "I mean, if it was possible?" he stopped just a few steps away from him, lifting his eyebrows and John regarded him carefully, his expression clearing, "What would you do to save her? Eurus will kill me," he gestured off to the TV screen, "Please save my wife".
"There will, I'm afraid," Eurus cut in, voice light and utterly unapologetic as she grabbed the TV remote off the desk before her, holding it at something out of sight of the camera, "Be regular prompts to create an atmosphere of urgency…"
Amelia barely blinked when the lights in the room glowed red again, sighing slightly as she glanced over to the TV screen, which replaced Eurus with a video of James, right up close to the camera.
"Tick-tock," the recording said loudly, turning his head side-to-side with every mimic of the clock, "Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick…"
The lights turned back on to normal white and John briefly lowered his head, looking as if he was trying to brace himself, before he slowly lifted his head, hands still clasped behind his back. He looked directly to the Governor, who stared at him pleadingly, before he slowly looked back across to Sherlock and the gun still held out towards him, a wary frown across Sherlock's features. The lights flared red again.
"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…"
The lights flared white and Amelia felt as if she could hardly breathe, staring fearfully at John, who shifted on the spot, eyes narrowing slightly on Sherlock, who lifted the gun up again, slightly pointed, casting his eyes apologetically down to the floor. John's lips thinned, but he released his hold on his hands and swung them around his front, shifting his feet as he reached out to take the gun. Sherlock looked up sharply, his expression one full of grim regret and silent apology as he held John's fierce glare. Mycroft covered his face with his hands and turned away, appalled, but Amelia found herself frozen on the spot.
"John," she breathed, and he inhaled sharply, his grip on the gun flexing as his eyes darted up to catch her stricken gaze. She shook her head slowly, lips briefly pressing together, struggling with words…her heart sounded too loud in her ears and she felt weak kneaded and light headed, everything just felt as if she was wading through water, barely keeping her head above the waves.
John gave her a tight look, "Don't watch, Amelia," he said firmly, but there was a glint of pleading in his eyes, and shame, buried beneath the façade of the solider, "You don't need to see that…"
"This doesn't have to even happen!" she snapped, suddenly angry and desperate, and she was even more furious with herself when her eyes burned with tears. She blinked them back rapidly, glaring as she curled her fists at her side, "This game…" she spat the word, full of disgust and fury, "….what is the point? A power-play? Revenge? Fun? Eurus…!" she whirled on her heel and turned to glare at the TV screen, finding Eurus peering vaguely curiously through the screen at her. She squeezed her hands so tightly, she felt the knuckles pop and her nails break her flesh, "Alright, you've had your fun, you've watched us dance to your little song and tested us. Shall we drop the act now?"
"Amelia," Sherlock began warily, stepping up beside her, reaching out to grasp her shoulder.
She shrugged him off and took another step forward, refusing to look away from the screen. Eurus merely peered back at her, expression blank of emotion, but there was a flicker of something almost like curiosity in her ice blue gaze, intently focused on Amelia. It might have been unsettling enough to make Amelia immediately regret some of her more recent life choices, but she was angry as all hell that John and, hell, even Mycroft, were being psychologically tortured right before her very eyes like this, and she wasn't going to stand for it, if she could help it. She knew this game, at least she knew the basics of it and the truth was…there was no winning it. No matter what any of them did, they were damned, it wasn't about trying to save an innocent woman anymore, as much as Amelia was furious and sickened to have to come to terms with that. That poor woman was already lost, but John and Mycroft's souls could still be saved.
"Amelia, what are you doing?" Mycroft hissed at her, sounding appalled that she would dare to stand up to Eurus.
She ignored him.
"Amelia," John's voice was gentler, but there was still a nervous, resigned edge to it, "Don't. It's not going to…"
"Shut up," she cut across him sharply, voice like a razor and full of barely controlled fury, glaring at Eurus on the screen, refusing to look away for even a second, "All of you, shut up. You forget…" she took a deep breath, her lips twisting into a dark, humourless smile, "James Moriarty was my brother. I know how this works, and, Eurus…" she sighed, her smile disappearing, her features softening very slightly with almost grim resignation, "I'm sorry, I am. I wish I understood what your main goal is with this, but I do want to help you, and if that means I have to play your game and let you send me to the brink of emotional capacity, so be it. But…" her voice grew harder, firmer, "I won't let you turn us into killers. You will not take our innocence".
"Innocence is a childish concept," Eurus said flatly, almost sounding bored, "It doesn't exist, like 'Good' or 'Bad,' it's an emotional concept that is used to somehow separate people from each other, but none of them are real".
"A concept is real because you believe it to be real," she replied instantly, almost matching her own tone with how flat and level her voice was, "To have faith in something makes it real to you, like…believing in a God or a dream or love. It isn't something that can be tangibly measured, but through the actions of an individual person can we perceive such a concept to exist," she raised an eyebrow, inwardly pleased to note that Eurus was eyeing her again, faintly curious, intrigued, even, "Therefore…such a concept can and can't exist, at the same time, it is simply how you perceive something that makes it real".
She titled her head slowly, eyes narrowing just slightly, "How do you perceive something to exist?" she asked, almost blankly.
Amelia smiled very slightly, "You feel it," she said softly, and she very nearly grinned widely as she noticed a flicker of something like confusion and disgust flickering across Eurus's face, her expression twisting into a frown as she glanced off to the side of the camera, breaking eye contact. She had got her there, she felt proud of herself…it was nice to know that she could still keep up with a psychopathic genius, even if she did accidently put her mobile in the fridge last week while putting the shopping away.
"Please…" the Governor chocked out, then, and Amelia almost cursed as Eurus's gaze immediately snapped back up, utterly blank of emotion. The man stumbled forward and Amelia glanced at him, finding him looking at her tearfully, full of desperation. He looked liable to try and grab her hand or something, perhaps Sherlock sensed that, too, because she noticed Sherlock shift out of the corner of her eye, moving closer to the pair of them, almost protectively. The man looked pleadingly to her, "Please, my wife…."
Amelia really wished he had stayed silent.
"Oh, yes," Eurus said lightly, almost sounding bored again, and a chill of dread ran down Amelia's spine as they all looked to her. She peered blankly down the camera lens, "I almost forgot…"
And then she turned her chair around and raised her gun. There was a loud, single gunshot…everyone went utterly silent and still, and Amelia closed her eyes, lowering her head in regret.
"Oh!" John exclaimed in horror.
A pained, mournful groan broke through the air and she opened her eyes to see the Governor almost collapse on the spot, but then he seemed to whirl back to life. It should have been obvious what he would do next, but there was little chance to try and stop him as the man whirled around and threw himself at John, who gaped in shock at the TV screen. He was caught completely off guard as the man wrestled the gun out of his hand and then turned it upon them all, face screwed up with tears and agonising grief. Instantly, they all held up their hands in surrender, backing away…Amelia felt Sherlock positively pull her back behind him, his grip on her arm tighter than normal, almost painful, placing his entire body directly before her, looking at the Governor.
"It's alright," Sherlock tried to reassure him, tried to calm him, one hand held out towards him.
The Governor gave a shaky, tearful gasp and shook his head miserably, face contorted with pure grief as he brought the gun up beneath his chin, hands shaking they clasped the gun. He squeezed his eyes shut.
"Remember me!" he cried, right before he hit the trigger…
"No!" Sherlock shouted.
"No!" John cried.
Amelia closed her eyes and covered her ears, flinching as the loud bang echoed around the room, followed by the awful, sickening heavy thud of a body hitting the floor. She felt nausea bubbling up in her throat and a cold sweat break out across her entire body, and she wobbled on her legs, until she stumbled backwards against the wall of the cell, struggling to remain standing as she slumped heavily sideways against the wall, eyes still squeezed shut, breathing heavily, in and out, in and out, great lungfuls of air that just wasn't enough. She heard someone close by violently dry wretch and cough, while John's furious panting filled the painful, sudden silence of the room. A hand landed on her back and she flinched away so badly, she very nearly smacked her head against the wall, looking up sharply, eyes wide with fear…it was only Sherlock.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, a slightly urgent edge to her voice as he swiftly grabbed her arm, and wrapped the other around her waist, steadying her, anchoring her. He peered into her face carefully, eyes full of worry and a slightly frantic need to make sure she was alright, "Amelia?"
She swallowed down the urge to vomit, mouth dry and her tongue suddenly heavy in her mouth, and could only stare at him silently, before she blinked and found herself positively throwing herself into his chest. He immediately brought his arms around her, without a second thought or hesitation; for once he actually seemed quite happy and willing to hug her in front of people. She felt a small shudder run through his body and his head briefly ducked down, his breath ghosting against her ear and hair, his lips pressing against the side of her head, before it was all over. They pulled apart, though his hand remained on her lower back, and Amelia dared to glance around at the aftermath.
Mycroft leant forward against the wall of the cell a few feet away from her, one hand brace above his head as he seemed to be struggling not to vomit, his cheeks a sickly grey colour, while John stood in the middle of the cell, breathing heavily with his fists clenched at his sides, glaring at his shoes, his entire body rigid. Amelia couldn't bring herself to look any further around the cell then that, keeping her head turned away, but she could see a pool of blood slowly seeping across the stark white floor, see the edge of limp fingertips lying sprawled across the floor. She briefly shut her eyes and shook her head, but the image would stay with her forever, she knew.
"John," Sherlock said, then, "Are you alright?"
John glared down at his shoes for a long moment, before slowly lifting his head, his face pale and his features rigid. His fingers briefly flexed, hands still balled into fists by his side, but he remained silent as he looked blankly at Sherlock.
"Interesting," Eurus remarked thoughtfully, peering through the camera at them.
Sherlock slowly lowered his hand from Amelia's back, his features tightening as he walked towards the glass of the cell, looking flatly back at Eurus, "All right, there you go," he said with a hard edge to his voice, "You got what you wanted. They're both dead".
"Dead or alive…" she shrugged lightly, unconcerned, "He really wasn't very interesting and his wife was hardly worth the bother, in the end. But you four…." her eyes brightened and she smiled thinly, leaning closer to the camera, peering at them with a flicker of delight, "You four were wonderful. Thank you…" she frowned faintly, then, eyes narrowing just slightly, "You see, what you did, Doctor Watson…" John looked up sharply, inhaling, while Amelia frowned in alarm, "…specifically because of you moral code, because you don't want blood on your hands, two people are dead instead of one".
"Me?" John asked slowly, slightly shakily and confused, his brow creasing, "I don't…"
"If you had only pulled the trigger and killed the Governor, then I wouldn't have been pushed to kill the wife, too, Doctor Watson".
John's eyes widened, a look of horror washing over his face…
"No one pushed you into anything, Eurus," Amelia cut in firmly, even though she felt anything but firm or strong, right now. She felt slightly light headed, still, on the verge of possibly vomiting…but she lifted her head and looked directly back at Eurus on the screen, wrapping her arms around her middle, "It was a choice you made, you pulled the trigger…it had nothing to do with John or me".
"Are you really so certain of that?" Eurus arched an eyebrow at her, looking vaguely curious, "Is it not selfish, in Doctor's Watson's case, that he should have allowed his moral code to keep his own hands clean at the expense of another's life?"
"You didn't have to kill her!" John shouted angrily, marching forward a few steps, outraged by the accusation, and the fact that he was seemingly being blamed.
She laughed softly at that, "The condition of her survival was that you, Mycroft, or Amy had to kill her husband," she reminded him, and John pressed his lips together in anger and lowered his head, sighing heavily, "This is an experiment. There will be rigour…"
"And you gathered your results," Amelia nodded stiffly, her tone cold and full of suppressed anger, while she looked darkly at her on the screen, "Perhaps they didn't result in what you expected or wished, but that's experimentation for you. What's next?"
"Eager, are we?"
She smiled tensely, "Four months pregnant," she replied simply, almost flippantly, while inside anger and fear coursed through her veins.
Some might say she was acting impulsively, pushing the envelope too much, that she ought to shut up and just let Eurus do whatever she wished, and play the game. But so long as Amelia could keep Eurus vaguely amused, would be so long that she could keep herself and her friends protected, to a degree. She might be still trying to figure out what Eurus's goal was here, but she knew how this game was played. She knew how to battle against an emotionless psychopath.
Eurus's lips lifted very slightly in a cool, tight smile, but she looked vaguely amused, "Sherlock…" her eyes darted over towards Sherlock, who stood rigidly on the spot, "Pick up the gun. It's your turn next…" Sherlock glances over towards the gun lying on the floor by the puddle of blood and the Governor's still hand, "…When I tell you to use it, and I will, remember what happened this time".
"What if I don't want a gun?" Sherlock asked quietly, gazing at the weapon.
"Oh, the gun is intended as a mercy".
"For whom?"
"You".
Amelia struggled to contain her alarm, eyes darting to Sherlock worriedly as he looked back up to the TV screen, frowning.
"How so?" he questioned, slightly confused.
"If someone else had to die, would you really want to do it with your bare hands? It would waste valuable time".
Amelia flinched, inhaling sharply as she glances nervously over to Sherlock, who tensed…slowly, he turned around on the spot to face them, his expression stony. Mycroft stared at him, eyes wide with horror, while John gave him a steady, hard look. Eurus's attempts to pin the Governor's ad his wife's death on his hand as seemingly rattled him, even though, if anyone was to be blamed, Amelia felt it ought to be her. But she didn't pull the trigger, she hadn't made that choice. Eurus did, no one else was to be blamed.
"Probably just take it," John said tightly, swallowing, hard, his eyes darting over to the gun on the floor.
Sherlock eyed him, before turning and slowly moving to pick up the gun. He automatically removed the clip of the gun, checking how many bullets remained, before he slipped it back inside the gun, his eyes returning to the TV screen and Eurus.
"There's only one bullet left," he told her, voice soft.
"You will only need one," Eurus replied, before her tone grew pointed and her gaze narrowed, "But you will need it".
There was a soft humming noise, causing Amelia to almost flinch…but it was simply a hidden door sliding open on the cell wall, revealing a concrete, narrow passageway beyond it. They all eyed it warily.
"Please, go through," she instructed them calmly, still peering at their reactions with cool, assessing eyes, "There's a few tasks for you, and a girl on a plane is getting very, very scared".
Sherlock held the gun down safely by his side, eyeing the hidden doorway warily, before he frowned and looked back around to Mycroft, pinning him with a cool glare.
"Treats?" he asked pointedly.
"Yes," Mycroft nodded, uncomfortably, "You know…a violin".
"In exchange for…?"
He hesitated, his expression hardening, "She's very clever," he gritted out.
He stared right back at him, gaze icy, "I'm beginning to think you're not," he said softly.
The lights of the room flared red again, casting them into gloominess. Amelia sighed slightly, bracing herself, while Mycroft lowered his gaze miserably. Eurus disappeared from the TV screen, replaced by a recording of James Moriarty.
"Come on now!" James called over the recording, "Aaaaaall aboard!" his voice grew higher pitched, pulling a pretend chain, as if he was on a train, "Choo-choo! Choo-choo!"
Amelia grimaced and swallowed, hard, glancing worriedly at Sherlock, who came to her side, expression stony. He caught her gaze and she gave him a questioning look, silently asking him if he was really alright…his eyes flickered, mouth pressing together, but other than that, he gave nothing away as his warm hand touched her lower back, guiding her through the open door. John and Mycroft trailed behind them.
I hope my inclusion of Amelia in this chapter didn't come off as being forced or to random. I felt like, out of any of them, Amelia would have the best possible ability to maybe speak Eurus's language, to try and get into her head, just a little bit, but I also didn't want to take away from any of the other characters, like John. Hopefully it didn't feel like that.
If you're a fan of Wednesday, I've also released a new Wednesday story, were the characters watch the TV show before events take place. Just a bit of shameless self-promoting here, you know... :)
I hope you guys liked it, tell me what you thought. Please review :)