The Final Problem, Part 5
Amelia trailed along close on Sherlock's heels as they left the red painted room, walking down a short, narrow passageway. It seemed to be specifically designed to instantly make anyone nervous, the walls slightly curved inwards, giving the impression of even less space and likely inducing claustrophobia in most people. Even she could feel a prickle of uneasiness tickling the back of her neck as they moved onwards and she had never been overly bothered by small spaces before. The lighting and the grey walls didn't help anything. She noted that Sherlock walked with the pistol slightly raised ahead of him, ready to bring it up at any second, should the need arise. Amelia desperately hoped it wouldn't come to that.
The hallway was only a few feet long and curved around a small bend, where a large, metal sliding door greeted them, already sliding open with a gentle hum as they reached it. Amelia dragged in a bracing breathe and slowly stepped in after Sherlock, briefly unable to make out much of the room, until she had stepped over the threshold of the room. It was quite dully lit around the sides of the room, the walls and floor all grey concrete, while a TV screen sat on the wall, filled with static, but then her eyes fell on the centre of the room and her stomach dropped and she stopped short, causing John to accidently bump into her back. She didn't even notice his mumbled apologise behind her, nor his hand hastily grabbing her shoulder to steady himself and her.
A simple, light wood coloured coffin sat in the heart of the room, illuminated brightly by the only light source in the room, seemingly for the specific purpose of being as dramatic as possible. The coffin sat on top of two wooden trestles, while the lid of the coffin had been removed. Amelia could see that the interior was covered with white mercerized cotton, a far cheaper replacement for satin, but there didn't seem to be a body held within it. Still...Amelia took a hesitate step closer and only once she was able to fully see that it was empty, did she relax...but only briefly. The empty coffin was a dark, morbid sight to witness, as it was, and given what they had already endured from Eurus's little game, the fact that it was empty didn't make Amelia feel much comfort. It also didn't help that the coffin seemed to be sitting beneath a massive chimney that ran up into the ceiling overhead, disappearing into darkness. The lid of the coffin sat directly opposite from the doorway, the top turned to lean against the wall, while the white jute covered interior of the lid was shown.
Amelia licked her lips nervously and glanced at Sherlock, who had naturally already been taking it all in with sharp, slightly wary eyes, his gaze catching her own from across the top of the open coffin. He frowned at her faintly, when the sound of another electrical noise came over the speakers set up in the room.
"One more minute on the phone," Eurus called, before the speaker squealed and seemed to reconnect.
"...Frightened!" the little girl came back over the line, "I'm really frightened".
Sherlock closed his eyes and seemed to almost try to gather himself, Amelia watching him intently, pulling her bottom lip against her teeth, trying hard to keep herself from saying a word. Again, Eurus seemed to have disappeared the second the little girl came over the phone line, it didn't make much sense, Amelia could just feel that it didn't make sense, but yet she still couldn't put her finger fully on it. Even just considering that Eurus and the little girl might be connected felt crazy, but why this child? Was it just chance? She had long since come to the conclusion that rarely did people like James or Eurus do anything purely by chance, they had everything planned long before and Eurus clearly had planned all of this out to the letter. So then, why this little girl? Why did Eurus seem to wish to torment the girl, but yet seemed to keep her distant from actually tormenting her? It just...didn't fit, logically. A piece was missing, but to consider where the path was leading her just seemed too insane to even consider it, but yet...
"It's okay," Sherlock said hastily over the phone, briefly squeezing his eyes shut, "Don't worry. I don't have long with you, so I just need you to tell me what you can see outside the plane?"
There was a brief pause, "Just the sea," the girl replied, "I can see the sea".
"Are there ships in the distance?"
"No ships. I can see lights in the distance".
He frowned slightly, "Is it a city?"
"I think so".
Amelia grimaced and shook her head slightly, barely holding back from saying a word as Sherlock's frown deepened. Mycroft, however, looked steadily to Sherlock, having come to stand beside Amelia, his expression tight with concern.
"She's about to fly over a city in a pilotless plane," he whispered, regarding Sherlock with a firm frown, "We'll have to talk her through it".
Amelia blinked and looked at him sharply, while John eyed him closely, a startled expression crossing his features.
"Through what?" he demanded lowly, glaring hard at Mycroft, seemingly expecting that he wasn't going to like what he had in mind.
"Hello?" the girl called shakily, then, "Are you still there?"
"Still here," Sherlock said quickly, raising his voice slightly as he glanced back up towards the ceiling, "Just give us a minute".
"Mycroft," Amelia hissed, sharp, narrowed eyes fixed intently on the man, her expression tight with barely controlled anger. In fact, the urge to slap him was getting increasingly hard to ignore, again, "You had better not be suggesting that we..." she hesitated and dropped her voice even lower, until it was barely a breathy hiss, "...crash the plane into the ocean with the little girl still on board it! Never mind all of the possibly still alive, untold number of passengers on board it still".
"What?" John gasped, his eyes widening in horror as he looked sharply back to Mycroft, who simply glared mutely at Amelia. He blinked rapidly and shook his head, "What about the girl?"
Mycroft sighed slightly and spared him a slightly exasperated, sarcastic glare, "Well, obviously, Doctor Watson, she's the one who's going to crash it," he said it softly, but so simply, that Amelia barely stopped herself from lunging at his face and clawing his eyes with her nails. He gave them all a rather flat glare, "We have a duty to get the plane away from the mainland and any other populated areas. It has to crash into the sea".
"There are people on that plane," Amelia whisper-shouted at him, stabbing a finger in his direction, just barely shy from actually hitting his chest, her expression filled with icy outrage and disbelief, "They may still be alive and one-hundred percent, we know that the girl is! What you're suggesting is...is practically mass murder!"
"We could help her land it," John added with a hurried nod.
"And if we fail, and she crashes into a city? How many will die then?"
He stared at him, bewildered, "How are we gonna get her to do that?"
Mycroft hesitated, briefly glancing down with an uncomfortable, wary frown, before he sighed and looked almost regretfully back up to them.
"I'm afraid we're going to have to give her hope".
Amelia shook her head slowly, refusing to accept it, her mouth suddenly dry and a tight, an almost fluttering feeling of helplessness and panic blooming in her chest. She looked sharply around to Sherlock, because he had to have something up his sleeve, something clever and better and more humane feeling then tricking a child into thinking they might be able to save her right now, when actually they were condemning her.
"Is there really no-one that can help you?" Sherlock called hurriedly to the girl, frowning deeply, "Have you really, really checked?"
"Everyone's asleep," the girl replied, her voice shaking with tears now, "Will you help me?"
Sherlock looked around to them all, first John, then Mycroft, and finally, Amelia, a determined glint in his eyes, "We're going to do everything that we can," he called back, without dropper Amelia's stare...she nodded back to him, lifting her chin slightly higher, agreeing whole-heartedly with him.
"I'm scared. I'm really scared".
"It's all right, I..."
He trailed off and looked up sharply as the line clicked, seemingly the call ending abruptly, once again.
"Now," Eurus spoke over the speakers of the room, sounding oddly eager now, "Back to the matter at hand. Coffin," Amelia grimaced slightly, eyes falling back to the coffin, regarding it warily...Sherlock began pacing, scratching his forehead with the hand holding the gun, frowning as he walked around to stand at the end of the coffin, "Problem: someone is about to die. It will be, as I understand it, a tragedy," she sighed mockingly, full of fake sadness and remorse, "So many days not lived, so many words unsaid..." she scoffed slightly; tone growing flat, "Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera".
"Yes, yes, yes, and this..." Sherlock cut in sharply, almost snapping with his annoyance as he pointed his the pistol back towards the coffin, seemingly having forgotten he was even carrying the gun...Amelia was just relieved he hadn't used it to scratch his head, yet, "I presume, will be there coffin".
"Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment".
He looked back to the coffin and released a sharp; loud breathe from between his lips, cheeks briefly puffing out as he stared at the coffin, taking it in. Amelia ran her eyes briefly over the coffin, too, taking it all in, mind whirling with possibilities of who this poor person must be. It had to be someone close to them, or rather to Sherlock, someone fairly short and slim, so likely a woman, but shorter then Amelia herself...she could see that conclusion wash over Sherlock almost like a weight had been taken off his shoulders, his gaze sharp and suddenly snapping up to fix on her, just briefly, before he returned to his rapid examination of the coffin.
"Well..." he took a deep breath, stepping back a few more steps to eye the coffin, "Allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I'd say this coffin is intended for someone about five foot four. Makes it more likely to be a woman..."
"Not a child?" John looked around to him, frowning.
"Far too cheap for that," Amelia shook her head, just as Sherlock open his mouth to reply. She shrugged lightly, peering at the coffin thoughtfully, "It's a sensible and affordable option, likely probably one of the nicer, cheaply offered coffins, but a child's coffin would be still automatically more expensive".
He raised his eyebrows at her, amused, "I thought you only went online shopping for Prada, Amelia," he teased lightly.
She gave her a light grin back, "I'm a well-rounded woman of many different shopping tastes," she replied without blinking, nor hesitating, "Sometimes it's Prada, other times it's coffins".
"So not a child's coffin," Sherlock cleared his throat slightly, giving Amelia and John a pointed look, though there was no real scolding or disapproval in his eyes, turning back to look carefully at the coffin, "This is a practical and informed choice. Balance of probability suggests that this is for an unmarried woman distant from her close relatives. That much is suggested by the economy choice..."
Amelia's eyes widened...Oh, God, no. She knew who it was, her heart seemed to drop straight through the flooring and disappear, while the cavity left behind by it filled with despair and panic. If Eurus had touched her, even a tiny bit, she didn't care if Eurus was Sherlock's baby sister, she would see her put behind bars or locked up in the deepest, furthest, most secure prison in the entire word and she would personally ensure that the key was thrown away. Even Mycroft wouldn't be able to find her. But no one else seemed to have caught on to her realisation yet, John still looked confused, while Sherlock prattled on, and Mycroft simply turned and walked over towards where the coffin lid leant against the wall. He grabbed it and moved it around to look at the front, his eyebrows shooting up sharply.
"...Acquainted with the process of death but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. Also, the lining of the coffin..."
"Yes, very good, Sherlock," Mycroft cut in with a slight eye roll, causing the man to break off abruptly, head snapping around, eye widening slightly. His brother merely peered at the front of the coffin lid he held in his hands, "Or we could just look at the name on the lid," he turned the lid around for them to see a small golden metal plaque stuck to the pale wood, Sherlock and John immediately stepping up to see it, but Amelia hung back, unable to bring herself to move closer, unable to do anything more then watch on as Mycroft gave them a pointed look, "Only it isn't a name".
John reeled back as if he had been struck and looked around to Amelia, eyes wide with dread, while Mycroft's gaze more slowly lifted up to settle on Amelia, too, but there was something more thoughtful and calculating in his gaze, almost dismissive. Sherlock simply sighed and shook his head, turning away from the lid.
"Amelia," John breathed, staring at her.
"No," Amelia said softly, somehow managing to speak, even though her mouth was dry, even though she felt shaky all over. She squeezed her hands tightly to try and ground herself, "It isn't for me".
"But..."
"Don't be ridiculous, John," Sherlock almost snapped, throwing him a dark frown, "How could that coffin be anything for Amelia?" he scoffed and rolled his eyes, "She has dresses that cost more than that coffin would have cost, so of course it isn't for her, never mind the fact that the proportions are all entirely to off..."
"'I love you,' Sherlock," John cut across him with a slightly annoyed glare of his own, now, huffing slightly at the curly haired man, "That's what it says..." he pointed back over to the coffin lid, not taking his gaze off Sherlock, "This whole things supposed to be about you, right? So if the coffin isn't for Amelia, then who is it for, Sherlock?"
"Quite right, Doctor Watson," Mycroft said with an odd lightness to him, looking at Sherlock with a thoughtful eyebrow raised look, "So, aside from Amelia, who loves you, Sherlock? I'm assuming it's not a long list".
John blinked, then, lips parting briefly as he cast Amelia a quick, almost apologetic look, before he looked to Sherlock, "Irene Adler," he said, almost sighing grimly, as if he hated having to even bring up the fact that Adler had so obviously been infatuated with Sherlock in Amelia's presence.
Amelia didn't even blink, gazing at the coffin as if it was her own death warrant. In fact, she barely heard John's words, but Sherlock did and the dark look that he threw at John was full of disgust and mocking.
"Don't be ridiculous! Look at the coffin. Unmarried, practical about death, alone…"
"Molly," Amelia breathed, reaching out to place a hand on the edge of the coffin, the red nail polish, now slightly chipped along the edges of a couple of her nails, something she hadn't even noticed before now, shockingly stark and bright red against the white interior of the coffin. She swallowed, a morbid part of her mind musing on how poetic that was. She took a shuddering breath and curled her fingers over the edge of the coffin, feeling the rooms eyes fixated on her, "It's symbolic for Molly".
"That's right, Amy," Eurus called through the room, voice oddly chirper and bright, smiling even, as she leaned towards the camera towards them, "She's perfectly safe…for the moment," Amelia's gaze darted up sharply to see Eurus's grinning face disappear from the screen, replaced, instead, by hidden camera footage take from within Molly's flat from several different angels, while a small countdown sat threateningly in the corner of the screen, stuck on three minutes exactly. Her voice continued cheerfully over the speakers, "Her flat is rigged to blow in approximately three minutes, unless I hear the release code from her lips…"
Amelia might have vomited from all of the emotions swirling around inside her, her hand releasing the edge of the coffin as she moved closer to peer intently at the TV screen, almost shaking at the sight of Molly standing by her kitchen sink. It seemed like a perfectly ordinary day for Molly Hooper, who was painfully unaware of the danger she was currently in, back turned to the cameras and dressed in a pair of jeans and a multi coloured stripy jumper. Amelia wanted to scream at her to get out, to run and keep on going, until she got to the safe house that Amelia had instructed her to go to if her life was in danger. Being friends with Sherlock Holmes and Amelia Wilson meant that the chances were that their friends would need a safe place to run to, and Amelia had ensured that Molly had somewhere only them three knew about, but it was of no use now when Molly didn't have a clue about the threat against her. And there was nothing Amelia could do to tell her to run. Nothing.
"I'm calling her on your phone, Amelia," Eurus said with something close to childish glee, and Amelia's eyes widened, before she frowned in confusion, head snapping around to look at the camera in the corner of the room….her phone? "Make her say it".
"My phone?" Amelia questioned softly, frowning.
"Of course. You're going to be the one to save Molly Hooper, Amy. Or condemn her, depending on what you do".
Dread hit her and she stumbled back a step, only stopping when her back almost immediately hit Sherlock's chest. She was trembling, though she wasn't even completely sure if she was fully aware of it in the moment, far too horrified and afraid for Molly to even be fully coconscious of what was happening in her own body, eyes fixed on the screen where Molly still stood with her back to the hidden cameras.
"I'll do it, Eurus," Sherlock said, his voice oddly distant to her ears right now, just as his gentle but firm grip on her hip that gently pushed her aside was barely noticeable to her. He stepped up in front of the screen, giving it a cool, tight look, "Whatever you want, whatever game this is, I'll do it".
"Aww," Eurus's voice cooed, but it sounded sickeningly sweet and fake, "How fascinating, this is exactly what I hoped might happen," her tone swiftly grew calculating and analytical, sounding more as if she was examining a lab rat in an experiment she had been conducting for weeks, rather than her own brother. Sherlock jaw clenched, seemingly noting the tone, too, "You see, I wished to apply emotional context of a situation were in someone that you care for is enduring an emotional crisis to determine how you react, Sherlock. Amelia is the perfect model for this, given how emotionally tethered you are to her and her expressiveness".
Amelia might have scoffed, had she not been still struggling with trying to scramble her emotions and thoughts together to make more sense than just outright horror and panic. She was being used to basically try and see if her emotional outburst could inflict Sherlock and how deeply it may, simply so Eurus could satisfy some sort of curiosity she seemed to have about Sherlock, though, naturally, the true purpose was likely still hidden from them all.
"You didn't have to go to all this effort to get an emotional rise out of me, you know," Amelia said flatly, if a little weakly, heart pounding in her own ears, "I'm pregnant with twins, it's really not that hard to annoy me these days".
"I don't understand…" John shook his head slowly, squinting slightly at the screen, "Why Molly? And what's this…code word to save her?"
Oh, yes, that…Amelia glanced sideways at Sherlock, who grimaced, just faintly, catching her own gaze before they both looked away. It was something they never spoke of, but was always there, or at least it had always been there for Amelia, something in the back of her mind whenever Molly was around, bringing with it a sickening sense of guilt and almost betrayal, because she had betrayed Molly, even if Molly was to sweet to admit it. Amelia felt that she had betrayed her, though she hadn't set out to do it, far, far from it. John would likely disagree, excuse it and even Sherlock would likely not understand it, but to Amelia that was how she felt and this was finally drawing attention to it. Today was the day she finally had to speak about it openly and make Molly speak it, to save her life, no less. This was not how this conversation was supposed to ever happen, far from it; Amelia had at least expected them to both be drunk.
"Obvious, surely?" Eurus said instead of answering.
"No," John replied, bemused.
"Yes," Sherlock said at the same time, sighing as he looked back over towards the brass plaque on the coffin lid, the words 'I love you' almost mockingly glinting back at him. He grimaced and looked back to Amelia, concern flashing across his features.
"Oh, one important restriction, Amelia," Eurus cut in suddenly, making Amelia flinch slightly and Sherlock's eyes briefly close, "You're not allowed to mention in any way at all that her life is in danger, and do not presume to imagine that you can attempt to allude to anything without me noticing…" Amelia narrowed her eyes slightly, a flash of anger rushing through her veins, "You may not, at any point, suggest that there is any form of crisis. If you do, I will end this session and her life. Are we clear?"
She wanted to spit back that she wasn't going to go along with this, she wanted to smash the TV screen and tell Eurus to crawl back into the corner of hell that she had escaped from, and to leave her friends and family alone…but even uttering anything but 'Yes' would surely get Molly killed. She glared at the camera with disgust and anger, bitterness and resentment, the silence of the room growing, until John was shifting awkwardly and she could practically sense Mycroft resisting the urge to say something with every last ounce of good sanity he possessed. She knew she needed to accept, there was nothing else to it…but God damn it, did she also want to refuse and fight back, but that was childish and based on her own anger at the position she was placed in, never mind the danger that innocent, sweet, ignorant Molly had been placed in. Out of anyone, Molly was the last person who should have to pay the price for being associated with them, but yet she continued to someone pay it, time and again. It wasn't fair.
"Amelia…" Sherlock spoke quietly, barely a breath of a whisper, but she still heard it, standing with her shoulder basically pressed against his chest.
She took a deep breath and allowed her eyes to close, squeezing them shut, "Absolutely clear," she finally said, her voice steady and even, nothing at all like the raging storm of anger and bitterness and deep rooted panic that she felt.
At her words, a train reaction was immediately set into motion and her eyes flew open at the sound of a phone ringing, though slightly distant, coming instead through the speakers of the TV.
"Tick-tock," James's voice mocked, while the timer on the corner of the screen began moving, flicking from three minutes to two minutes and fifty nine seconds, "Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock…"
On the screen, the phone ringing continued and Amelia could only watch, half-desperately, half- fearfully, as Molly jolted slightly in surprise and turned around from the sink, slowly walking across to her kitchen island, where her phone sat. She seemed to briefly hesitate and Amelia frowned slightly, edging forward towards the screen, out of Sherlock's comforting presence. She eyed Molly on the screen…It was hard to tell, but Molly looked drained, lips downturned, even though her eyebrows were arched slightly with interest. The hesitation was only a tiny flicker, enough to tell Amelia that Molly likely hadn't intentionally meant to not answer, but was more was surprised that Amelia, who had told her she would be going out of London for a few days, was suddenly calling her. Molly reached out and grabbed the phone, just as the clock hit two minutes and thirty nine seconds.
"Hi, Amelia," Molly said over the line, voice sounding tired, but still warm and chirpy. On the screen, she leant forward on her counter top, arms bracing her, "I wasn't expecting to hear from you for a few more days…"
"Hey!" Amelia almost cringed at how bright her own voice sounded, briefly closing her eyes and grimacing, reminding herself that she needed to sound perfectly normal, natural. She licked her dry lips and took a steadying breath, "I, er, yeah…we're pretty close to heading home, figured I'd check in with you," she invented quickly, praying that Molly wouldn't notice how breathless her voice was, how strained it was…she was normally so good at lying and acting, but with Molly, seeing the counter ticking down in front of her, she could barely seem to pull herself together, "How's things?"
A scoff sounded behind her and glanced over her shoulder to see John gaping at her slightly, while Mycroft shook his head covered his face, turning away, seemingly unable to stomach such trivial nonsense, while even Sherlock was staring at Amelia with slightly wide eyes. He gave her a look that clearly said, 'What the hell are you doing?' She glared right back at them all and raised a finger to her lips, silently trying to tell them to just her handle this, how she was going to handle it.
Molly, however, was more perceptive then Amelia was giving her credit, though, "Amelia," she said slowly, frowning on the screen, concern lacing her voice, "Are you okay? You sound…off. Are you and Sherlock fighting again?"
Amelia laughed weakly, "When aren't we?" she said lightly, even though she knew it sounded horribly forced, but Molly had given her the perfect opening, and she hadn't even had to randomly bring it up, at two minutes and ten seconds, no less, "Actually…" she shifted uneasily on the spot, finding it easier to let some of her anxiety slip into her voice, "I…I was calling about Sherlock".
"Is he okay?"
"Yeah," she breathed, shakily and feeling suddenly on the verge of crying, knowing now what she would have to do next. And the possible implications of it for Molly, for her, for Sherlock. No going back, once that Pandora's box was open, but if it saved Molly…to hell with it all. She clenched her hands tightly at her sides and shut her eyes tightly, lips numb, even as the words formed, "But it is important…"
"Oh?" her voice was surprised, curious, and confused.
She opened her eyes and looked at the screen, focusing on Molly on it, leaning stiffly on her counter, frowning now in concern, "You know…" she began slowly, "I never meant for anything to happen between him and I…" she knew that she would only be able to do this by staring at the screen, letting the rest of the room and Sherlock in it, disappear into nothingness behind her, gaze intently pinned to Molly, who had stiffened on the screen with a look of almost muted horror and trepidation written across her features. She licked her lips and shook her head, "I never meant any of it, it just…happened, before I knew it, before I could stop it, even when I knew you were in love with him".
Molly looked as if someone had just dunked her under icy water, her lips parting and her cheeks paling, eyes widening as she phone slipped slightly in her hand. She squeezed her eyes shut and Amelia held her breath, feeling as if she might just faint, but she waited, desperately, glancing at the timer. One minute and forty eight seconds left. Molly brought the phone back up to her ear and slowly straightened.
"I'm not in love with Sherlock," she said shakily, trying to laugh, but it fell flat and trailed off swiftly, her features filled with terror.
Amelia smiled grimly, "It's okay," she found herself saying, and meaning it sincerely, "Molly, it's okay. I get it, I so get it," her smile grew slightly softer, warming, just a touch, "I fell for him too, remember? And I shouldn't have…" her expression fell and she grimaced, lips briefly catching against her upper teeth, ducking her head slightly in shame, "You were, are, my best friend and I've always known you loved him, from before I ever even met him I knew you loved him and I should have pushed you two together, I could have done it, so many times I could have…"
"Amelia," Molly breathed, shocked, "What are…why are you talking about this?"
"…It's long overdue," she continued, as if Molly hadn't spoken, knowing that if she stopped she would falter and she couldn't afford that, Molly couldn't afford that. She felt her eyes burn with tears, tears of desperation and fear and panic, and shame. But her voice remained steady and calm, even though nothing else around her felt even close to being controlled, "This…apology, I suppose, and this open conversation between us, because for the past several years it's been the one thing neither of us have dared to speak of, because we both know the truth, Molly. We're in love with the same man…" she didn't miss Molly's flinch, her lips curling with a sad smile, "And it's about time we talk about it".
"No…" she whispered, looking close to dropping the phone and running, as if running physically could save her from the truth, face white as a ghost and filled with absolute terror, "No, I'm…I'm…no, it's not true…"
"I should have seen the signs in myself," she admitted softly, still smiling sadly at the screen, "Even from the first moment I met him, Molly, I was gone. I remember all those times I listened to you talk about him, before I met him and I should have done more to send him in your direction, had I been the friend you deserve I would have. But…" she shrugged, almost helplessly, "It was a game, the flirtation, the back and forth, it wasn't until it was too late, when it actually became something real and serious that I even realised what had happened, and by then it was too late…"
"Why are you saying this?" Molly almost pleaded, voice growing chocked with tears, face screwed up and pained on the screen. She brought a hand up to support her wrist that held the phone to her ear, as if it was the only thing keeping her grounded, "Why?"
Amelia glanced at the counter…one minute exactly. She needed to get to it, no more beating around the bush. She was going have to just say it.
"Because…" she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, "If there was anyone else on the planet that I would want to be with Sherlock Holmes, it would be you, Molly. You love him just like I do and…and if things don't work out between him, or…or if something was to happen to me, it would bring me comfort knowing that there was someone in this world who might be able to love him like I do. But I need to hear you say it; I need you to admit it aloud, because this lie between us has gone on far too long and I'm tired of pretending as if it isn't there".
There was pause, Amelia didn't open her eyes, knowing that if she did, she would break what little control she still had left and completely wreck all of this. She didn't know what damage she was doing to her and Molly's relationship, she didn't even know how Sherlock likely felt right now listening to all of this, when they had been separated for weeks now and she had been so careful to keep him at arms length, but here she was, not only confessing to loving him still, but also admitting that she would be okay with accepting Molly being with him. Of course, she didn't want to see that happen tomorrow, but down the track, if things didn't work out, she could and would happily accept Molly and Sherlock, if it ended up that way. Even if it broke her heart to think it, it was better that then to think of Sherlock spending the rest of his life not knowing love when she knew Molly could treasure him. It was…all so confusing, but if saying this deep secret aloud would save Molly, so be it.
"I…I can't…" Molly chocked out, through what sounded like tears.
"Please," Amelia murmured, almost pained, "If you love him half as much as I know you do…if you love me, tell me the truth, Molly. This isn't a trick, it's not a game, I mean it. Tell me you love him, please".
A sob cracked over the speakers and she flinched and swayed on the spot, almost crumbling in on herself as she felt her own tears burn her eyes. She wrapped her arms around herself, head still ducked, eyes squeezed shut.
"I…I love Sherlock".
A strangle half-gasp, half-sob escaped Amelia's cracked lips at those words, knowing there was no going back from it, having no idea what she had just done. Her knees gave out from beneath her and she felt herself falling…
"Amelia!"
She sobbed openly and turned her face into Sherlock's chest as he caught her, sinking them both more slowly and gently to the floor then her own fall would have been. She ordinarily would have been mortified, but she couldn't stop herself from crying into his neck, wrapping her arms around his middle as he brought a hand up to cradle the back of her neck, while the other curled around her waist, holding her so securely against him, half sprawled across his lap. She felt his lips press feather light kisses to the side and top of her head, and it distantly occurred to her that this was a side of Sherlock that no one else outside of the privacy of just themselves had seen before. He had never hugged or kissed her openly like this before, not in front of John or Mycroft, anyway, but he did so right now without hesitating.
"You saved her," he was saying to her, the words breaking through her tears, "Amelia, Molly's safe, you saved her in time. You bet the timer. She's safe…"
The relief she felt to know that Molly was okay was almost enough to floor her again, clutching him tightly as she struggled desperately to try and regain some composure. She wasn't even completely sure why she was crying so hysterically, it wasn't like her, but she felt as if she had, once again, just betrayed Molly. She had forced her to admit her deepest feelings to Sherlock, unknowingly, and even though it was all to save her life, Amelia still felt as if she had done the wrong thing. She still felt sick to her stomach. She chocked and gasped, lifting her head to look almost frantically at Sherlock.
"I feel like I can't breathe," she gasped, her lungs heaving but still feeling starved, a great weight, like a rock, pressing down on her chest, making her feel as if there wasn't enough oxygen in the entire world left for her. She frantically gripped the back of his jacket, the fabric fisted in her hands, looking at him fearfully, "I…I can't…"
"It's a panic attack, Amelia," John moved to join them, crouching down on the floor just behind Sherlock, so he could catch her eyes easily. He gave her a comforting, but firm look, "You're okay, just count back from ten with me okay? Ten…"
"Ten," she chocked out, even though it hurt, trying to find enough air to get the word out.
"…Nine…"
"Nine…"
"Eight…" Sherlock and John said together.
"Eight," she repeated, squeezing her eyes shut, "Seven…six…five…four…three…two…one…"
In the end, she was matching them and she felt less out of control, her breath still too fast and tears still slipping down her cheeks, but she no longer felt as if she was about to pass out, no longer felt as if the end of the world was upon her. She opened her eyes to find John smiling at her and Sherlock staring at her with open concern. She sniffled and ducked her head, forcing herself to release Sherlock from her death grip and shift off his lap…he let her, but he didn't move away from her, even as she moved to sit with her back against the wall behind, her curling her knees up against her chest as her stomach would allow. Sherlock placed a hand on her knee and looked at her closely, while John shuffled awkwardly around on his knees to sit beside her. He took her wrist and began checking her pulse, which almost made her laugh. Of course, the doctor would be worrying over her health right now, not that she wasn't grateful. It was just such a John thing to do.
"Are you alright?" Sherlock asked her gently, regarding her as if she was liable to burst into tears again, which she was, truth be told.
She laughed humourlessly and reached up brush her damp cheek, "I just manipulated my best friend to confess her deepest feelings for you, to your face, unknowingly, Sherlock," she said bluntly, giving him a pointed, if rather exhausted look, "I mean, it's not like we all didn't know, but…how am I even going to be able to look Molly in the eyes knowing what I just did to her?"
"You saved her life," he said firmly, looking at her steadily, his hand on her knee squeezing her reassuringly through the denim, "You did what was required".
"Saved her?" Eurus spoke, then, and she sounded oddly amused. Amelia instantly stiffened, her gaze freezing on Sherlock, who also tensed and frowned warily, while John glanced around to the TV and narrowed his eyes in confusion. She laughed then, the sound alone enough to make icy dread slip down Amelia's spine and her heart jolt in her chest, "From what? Oh, do be sensible," she went on, almost sounding as if she was tutting over a childish mistake they had all made, and Amelia realise with growing horror that they had. They had made a grave, foolish error, "There were no explosives in her little house…"
Amelia felt as if someone had just punched in the stomach, her entire world tilting sideways, again, while Sherlock eyes widened and John looked appalled. Even Mycroft looked shocked.
"Why would I be so clumsy? You didn't save her, Amelia," her voice was cruel and soft, the words ringing through her, drowning out everything else as Amelia could only sit there, stunned and in disbelief at how easily she had been manipulated, without even realising it at all, how simple it was for her to be turned into a weapon to cause harm and possible permanent damage to one of the most important relationships she had. And, the worst part was that she had known it was manipulation from the start, she just hadn't realised how large that manipulation was, "She was never in danger. Surely you must have considered that, Amelia? Surely you knew that you were being tricked, and you still did it…"
"She did what was right," Sherlock suddenly snapped, the abruptness of his words and aggressive tone almost making Amelia gap at him, but his glare was pinned entirely on the screen and his sister, "This isn't anything to do with Amelia, Eurus. If you want to torture me, do it to me directly. You've toyed with Amelia enough".
An oddly pleased, satisfied curl lifted Eurus's lips, then.
"So protective…"
Sherlock suddenly climbed onto his feet and stormed closer to the screen, "Amelia is off limits," he said firmly, glaring at her, his fingers flexing on the handle of the gun in his hand and his jaw locked tightly, teeth gritted.
"Is that so?" she lifted her eyebrows, almost curiously, not so much displeased, "My, my, Sherlock, all of those complicated little emotions, I'm starting to lose track," she shook her head slowly, "Emotional context, it destroys you every time, Sherlock…"
"Eurus…"
"Sherlock," Amelia said hastily, pulling his furious gaze off the screen. She moved to stand and John quickly helped her climb onto her feet, steadying her. She looked at him shakily, but bracingly, trying hard to put on a front of calm that she still didn't quite feel, but was trying damn hard to pretend she was, "This is all just a part of this…hell," she reminded him softly, "And the sooner we get through these tests and trails, the sooner we can go home. Just…let it go, I'm fine. I'm not so delicate," she gave him a small, weak smile, while he frowned at her warily, "Sherlock. This is just the price we have to pay right now".
Sherlock looked as if he wanted to disagree, very, very badly. His eyes flashed with anger and outrage, his hands curled tightly, knuckles white, while he threw a furious glare back towards Eurus. Amelia was almost afraid he was going to shoot the screen…
"She's right, Sherlock," Eurus almost cooed, before her tone grew cold, "Now, please, pull yourself together. I need you at peak efficiency," she gave him an almost warning, mock grim look, "The next one isn't going to be so easy," Amelia eyed Sherlock apprehensively, just as another hidden door slid open of its own accord with a soft hiss, revealing another grey concentrate hallway, "In your own time".
The screen faded to the grey, pouring water, but Sherlock still didn't move an inch, still glaring furiously at the TV screen…Amelia eyed him worriedly, suddenly finding herself taking what strength she could harness from seeing how suddenly lost he was. He was on the brink of losing it, completely losing it, and right now they couldn't afford for Sherlock to snap and nor was she going to let him lose it because she was upset. Yes, she was hurting emotionally, riddled with guilt, terrified for what she was going to do when she next saw Molly, how she was going to even look at her…but she also knew that she would do it again, because she believed it was to save Molly and she hoped that Molly would understand that. If not…that would be something else to deal with, but for now, Amelia needed to stay strong for Sherlock. He was the true victim here, Eurus was toying with him more than any of them, she knew that. She could and would stay strong for him.
"Sherlock?" she stepped up to him, reaching out to place a hand on his upper arm. He didn't look at her, body held rigidly, but his head did turn, just slightly, towards her. She grasped his arm more firmly, "Holmes, whatever happens…you've got all of our support, you know that, right?" she eyed the side of his face closely, "Whatever Eurus might do to any of us to get at you, we can handle it".
"She's right," John agreed quietly, stepping up to them, giving Sherlock a level look, "This is difficult for everyone, no one more then you…you're being tortured, Sherlock, but you have to keep it together".
Sherlock scoffed darkly, his gaze finally lifting from the screen to look back at them, his expression stony and bitter, "This isn't torture," he replied grimly, "This is vivisection," he ducked his head, refusing to look at either of them now, lips briefly pursing into a flat, angry line, "We're experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats".
Amelia stepped closer to him and slowly reached out to take his face between her hands, cradling his cheeks as she peered softly into his face. Every feature was full of frustration and anger, and she almost sighed heavily. This was his worst fear, being trapped and totally out of control, unable to do anything, while his biggest vulnerabilities are stripped and laid bare to him and everyone else. She gently ran her thumb across his left cheek bone, meeting his gaze firmly.
"Soldiers today, remember?" she said gently, but firmly, knowing that there was little words of sentiment or comfort that would help him, right now.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, composing himself. She smiled and released his face with one last caress of his cheek, stepping back from him, giving him some physical space, just to gather himself and not feel boxed in. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and looked at her, his expression cool and collected.
"Soldiers," he nodded, and she nodded in agreement. He glanced at John, expectant.
"Soldiers today," John replied instantly, lifting his chin proudly, reaching out to lightly pat his arm.
Sherlock turned and began leading the way towards the open door, and Amelia and John instantly fell into step right on his heels. Mycroft, who had observed with nothing but a concerned frown, trailed after them, almost awkwardly, but Amelia was grateful that he had kept silent. It wouldn't have helped anything to have Mycroft trying to speak to Sherlock, even if he was his own brother. The brotherly sentiment wasn't the type that Sherlock needed right now, not the Holmes brothers brand, anyway. They had just reached the doorway of the next room when the lights behind them flared red.
"Tick-tock, tickets please!" James's voices cheered through the room.
Amelia's gaze darted briefly upwards as she crossed the threshold, lips pursing in disgust. She was truly over hearing her dead brother's mocking voice spew over the speakers randomly, but those thoughts were put aside as she got a look at their next room. It was…empty. She frowned, peering around the large, open, grey wall, concentrate room that only had flat screen TV's hanging on the four walls of the room, the screens filled with the grey running water-like grain. The only thing that did give her, pause, however, was the large, white square in the middle of the floor. Sherlock swiftly strolled about the room, while Amelia, John, and Mycroft filed in, all looking around apprehensively and confused.
"Hey sis," Sherlock called, looking around intently, "Don't mean to complain but this one's empty. What happened? Did you run out of ideas?"
"Doubt that," Amelia scoffed quietly under her breath, eyes narrowed suspiciously.
The screens around the room flared into life and Eurus flashed back up on them. It was quite effective, really, four screen surrounding them from all sides of the room, and Eurus peering back at them from each of them, her eyebrows raised.
"It's not empty, Sherlock," she said with something close to an eye roll, as if he was being purposely slow and boring, "You've still got the gun, haven't you?" she shook her head, "I told you you'd need it, because only three can play the next game…" Amelia frowned nervously at that, her gaze swiftly darting to John and Mycroft, John looked confused but Mycroft thoughtful…, "Just three of you go on from here, your choice," she smiled brightly, voice lightening, "It's make you mind up time. Whose help do you need the most, John, Amelia, Mycroft?" John and Mycroft looked at one another warily, while Amelia shifted uneasily on the spot, fear washing over her, "It's an elimination round! You choose one and kill the other. You have to choose family or friend. Mycroft, Amelia, or John Watson?"
Sherlock turned around to face them, his expression full of dread, cheeks pale…Amelia stared at him. She had known something like this was coming, how could it not? But for it be happening right now, she had no idea what to do. The lights flared red, then, and a red tint video of James flashed over the TV screens, replacing Eurus.
"Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick…" he mocked loudly, teeth clenched.
"Eurus, enough!" Mycroft snapped angrily, looking disturbed.
The lights of the room returned to normal with a click, while James disappeared off the screen, Eurus flashing back up to peer at them. She glanced down thoughtfully.
"Not yet, I think," she said lightly, looking back up with a small smirk, "But nearly. Remember, there's a plane in the sky, and it's not going to land".
Amelia's eyebrows shot up at that, while John and Sherlock shared a look, and Mycroft briefly covered his face with both of his hands, dragging them down his face. The little girl…there it was again. That niggle in the back of her mind and if she had learnt anything from her own foolish mistake from the previous room, it was that Eurus was always manipulating. She frowned and turned to face the closest TV, but Mycroft cut her off.
"Well?" he said, and stepped forward, looking directly to Sherlock.
They all looked at him blankly, when he didn't continue, merely peering expectantly at Sherlock. Amelia eyed him warily, too, her questions regarding the little girl briefly set aside. She had a bad feeling about this.
"Well, what?" Sherlock frowned at his big brother, confused.
Mycroft gave him a flat look, "We're not actually going to discuss this, are we?" he asked him, almost seeming to find it mildly amusing to think that they would, when he suddenly looked across to John and gave him a grim look, "I'm sorry, Doctor Watson. You're a fine man in many respects…" he looked back to Sherlock and almost dismissively gestured back to John, "Make your goodbyes and shoot him".
Amelia's lips parted in shock, just briefly, while John's eyes widened in disbelief and Sherlock merely stared at his brother. Mycroft glared at Sherlock when he didn't lift his weapon.
"Shoot him!" he snapped at his brother.
"What?" John demanded, stunned, walking a step closer to him and throwing Sherlock an appalled look.
Amelia swallowed, hard, understanding slowly hitting her, once the first shock had faded. She looked more closely at Mycroft, the façade of cool and collected that he was portraying so well, but she could see the edge of fear in how he stood, shoulders tense, but relaxed enough to fool most people. She briefly closed her eyes and shook her head, sighing heavily as she brought a hand up to cover her face. Mycroft wasn't a brave man by any stretch of the imagination, but she did believe that he could always be counted to do what he thought was best for Sherlock…even to his own risk. It was one of the only redeeming traits he possessed.
"Shoot Doctor Watson," Mycroft looked directly at Sherlock, frowning at him, as if he couldn't understand why it was even a question at all. He pulled it off well, even Sherlock looked rather bemused, "There's no question who has to continue from here," he went on, as if it was so simple, "It's us, you and me, and Amelia. Whatever lies ahead requires brainpower, Sherlock, not sentiment. Don't prologue his agony, shoot him".
"Do I get a say in this?" John questioned softly, but stiffly, jaw held rigidly as he glared at the side of Mycroft's face.
He glanced at him, "Today, we're soldiers," he reminded him, his tone grim, but firm, "Soldiers die for their country," he gave him a vaguely contemptuous look, "I regret, Doctor Watson, that privilege is now yours".
He glared at him silently for a long moment, jaw locked, before he sighed and the fight seemed to just go out of him, "Shit," he sighed, his shoulders dropping as he turned and looked across to Sherlock, "He's right. He is, in fact, right".
Amelia shook her head still, rolling her eyes behind her hand, still covering her face. If this wasn't so serious and if Mycroft wasn't actually being so noble right now, she probably would have just laughed and told them to stop with the games, already, so they could actually think this through, properly. But, of course, Mycroft had to try and be nice and she actually felt bad for ruining possibly the nicest thing he has ever done in his life by laughing. Didn't make it any less tempting, mind.
"Make it swift," Mycroft said gravely, regarding John sympathetically, but grimly, "No need to prolong his agony. Get it over with…." He looked across to Sherlock, "…and we can get to work".
Sherlock, however, blinked and looked down uncomfortably, licking his lips as John straightened, readying himself for his own death. Mycroft's expression swiftly filled with mock anger when it became clear that Sherlock wasn't going to pull the trigger, his eyes narrowing into slits and he scoffed loudly.
"God!" he exclaimed in disgust, before he laughed sarcastically, pushing his lapels of his blazer back and sticking his hands in his trouser pockets. He looked the picture of calm and superiority, glaring mockingly at Sherlock, "I should have expected this," his smile slipped from his face, while Sherlock kept his head bowed, "Pathetic!" he threw at him, resentment lacing his voice, "You always were he slow one…the idiot," Amelia grimaced, but still kept silent, gazing sadly at Mycroft, "…That's why I've always despised you. You shame us all. You shame the family name," his tone grew harsher, full of aggression, "Now, for once in your life, do the right thing…" he nodded his head slightly towards John, who stood still beside him, "…Put this stupid little man out of his misery. Shoot him!"
Well…that certainly had a dramatic flair for it. Mycroft would have done well on the stage.
"Stop it," Sherlock said softly, his head turned away still, frowning distantly at the floor.
"Look at him. What is he? Nothing more than a distraction, a little scrap of ordinariness for you to impress, to dazzle with your cleverness. You'll find another…"
"Please, for God's sake…." Sherlock sighed heavily, shaking his head slightly, almost pained, "Just stop it".
"Why?"
"Because…" he finally lifted his head and looked back up to his brother, pinning him with a mildly exasperated, if slightly fond, glare, "On balance, even your Lady Bracknell at school was more convincing".
Mycroft blinked and his eyebrows shot up, his brow creasing slightly in surprise…evidently, he hadn't expected to be so easily caught out by his baby bro. Amelia couldn't keep back her small, amused grin.
"I did thought I detected a hint of dramatically flair about you, Mycroft," she said with a knowing, sly smirk at Mycroft, who shot her a startled look…apparently, Sherlock figuring him out was startling, but Amelia? That hadn't crossed his mind, which was just a little offensive, but she'd let it go for the nobility of his actions.
"Um…" John looked around at the three of them, his eyes wide and a slightly confused, nervous frown still lacing his features.
Sherlock sighed and gave him a flat look, "Ignore everything he just said," he nodded his head over to Mycroft, while looking at John, his expression growing grim, "He was being kind. He's trying to make it easier for me to kill him," he grimaced as John blinked and looked across to Mycroft, who glanced up from where he was scratching his forehead, looking slightly sheepish. He sighed, voice weighty and full of regret, "Which is why this is going to be so much harder…"
And he slowly brought his gun up to aim directly on Mycroft.
Mycroft smiled faintly, "You said you liked my Lady Bracknell," he commented, without blinking, peering past the gun and back to Sherlock without flinching.
"We have time," Amelia said warily, her gaze darting from Sherlock and Mycroft, licking her lips anxiously, "Let's not do anything to hastily here. Let's just…think on it".
She couldn't let Sherlock murder his own brother, she had no idea what they could do, they were truly stuck. Only three of them could go on, it was already clear to her that no one was considering her as the sacrificial lamb, but John and Mycroft were up for grabs. Neither of them were an option in her mind but sadly, in reality they were the only options, unless she jumped in front of Mycroft. She…she couldn't. She wished she could, but pregnancy had forced her to think and put two other lives before her own, before anyone else, truth be told.
"There isn't another option, Amelia," Mycroft said with a flicker of an eye towards her, his expression growing a touch warmer when she looked at him. He even smiled thinly, "But I appreciate the sentiment," he looked back to Sherlock before she could respond, giving his brother a pointed look, "Not in the face, though, please. I've promised my brain to the Royal Society".
Sherlock briefly closed his eyes, nodding slowly, "Where would you suggest?"
"Well…" he paused, looking thoughtful as he reached up to adjust his very top button of his shirt, as if it wasn't already perfectly done up, straightening his tie, as he did so, "…I suppose there's a heart somewhere inside me," he glanced down his front, sarcastically arching a brow, "I don't imagine it makes for much of a target, but…" he straightens and looks directly at Sherlock, who smiled in amusement. He smoothed down his front, smiling back at his brother, "Why don't we try for that?"
Amelia swallowed and bit her bottom lip, shaking her head as she looked between brothers. She didn't want this, God, she didn't want this to happen…Neither did John, who stepped hastily between them, looking between them urgently.
"I won't allow this," he told them, looking horrified.
Mycroft looked at him gravely, "This was my fault," he slowly looked back up to Sherlock and then, sighing, he turned his head to Amelia, something like an apology in his eyes, "Moriarty".
Amelia eyed him intently, straightening sharply, "You allowed my brother to meet with Eurus, didn't you?" she said slowly, eyes narrowing when he nodded, but remained silent. She inched closer, "You allowed the two most dangerous people in this entire world to come face-to-face…and you let them chat without any supervision, right?"
His gaze dropped, "Yes," his lips briefly pressed into a flat line, "For all of five minutes".
She glanced at Sherlock, who looked as if he didn't know if he should scold his brother and throttle him, while John gaped at Mycroft in disbelief. Amelia nodded, once, in acceptance, and looked back to Mycroft with a wary frown.
"That was incredibly dumb," she said bluntly.
"Yes".
"But…" her expression softened, "Hardly worth dying over, Mycroft. If this is some sort of attempt to right this wrong, then just stop. You're not at fault here, you might have given them access, but you didn't hatch this plan at their sides," she reached out and took his hand, and he surprised her by letting her touch him. She squeezed his hand tightly, her lips lifting into a small, sad smile, "And if you need to hear it said, then let me be the one to say it: I forgive you, Mycroft. And you're life is worth more than this".
Mycroft looked stunned, lips parting as he stared at her, before slowly he blinked and he glanced away from her, over her shoulder to Sherlock and then back to her. He brought his other hand up to cover her hand, which had a slight tremble to it now. He looked into her face and gave her a small, grim smile.
"You're far too good for my brother, Amelia," he said with a small laugh.
She smirked at him, "You had your chance, Mycroft," she teased lightly, even though they both knew that there was never anything romantic there, nor would there ever have been. She winked at him playfully, "Guess you should have been nicer, maybe offered me a Damehood…"
"It would have been so simple?"
"It would have been a start," she shrugged, still smirking cheekily.
He laughed lightly and shook his head, "What might have been…" he mock sighed wistfully, eyes glinting with amusement. Amelia grinned back at him and felt a pang of sadness that it had taken until now for them to actually joke with one another, feeling as if she was suddenly getting alone with Mycroft, for the first time ever. He glanced at Sherlock, then, who watched them with a small lift to his lips, before he looked seriously back to Amelia, squeezing her hand, this time, looking steadily at her, "I suppose I can count on you to at least insure that my impending nephews are given acceptable names?"
"I'm not naming either of my sons 'Mycroft,' if that's what you're hinting at. I'm sorry, but noble death or not, that's just a recipe for teasing and I'm positive that at least one of them is likely to inherit my bad eyesight and Sherlock's…friendly deposition".
Sherlock rolled his eyes at her, while Amelia smirked and threw him a pointed look.
"Fair enough," Mycroft smiled lightly, casting Sherlock a brief glance, too. He lifted his hand from her and Amelia, taking the hint, almost reluctantly released her own grip from him and, smiling sadly, stepped back and moved t stand beside John. Mycroft cleared his throat and turned to face Sherlock, straightening himself proudly, "Goodbye, brother mine," he said to him, and slowly, Sherlock raised the gun again to point at him. He still didn't flinch, "No flowers…" he grasped his hands behind his back, pushing his chest out, "…my request".
Amelia held her breathe, readying herself to close her eyes as Sherlock stared him down, finger on the trigger, clicking the safety off with a soft click. He pressed his lips together, looking slightly ill…
"Jim Moriarty thought you'd make this choice," Eurus suddenly told them, sounding oddly…elated, and almost touched, perhaps the most animated and truly happy she had sounded this entire time. It was disturbing, even Mycroft and Sherlock seemed to find it odd, since they both eyed the screens uncomfortably, while their sister smiled breathlessly, "He was so excited".
The screens flared red and James popped up on the screens, staring steadily into the camera, for once, looking serious.
"And here we are, at the end of the line," he said softly, as if speaking at a funeral, "Holmes killing Holmes," his words cause Amelia to cringe in disgust, while Mycroft took a deep, bracing breathe, but Sherlock…her gaze narrowed on him as he seemed to briefly freeze, squinting his eyes slightly…The recording continued and on the screen, James slowly broke into a wide grin, "This is where I get off".
His haunting, loony smile was going to live with Amelia forever, she just knew it as she stared at the screen in horror, when the recording swiftly disappeared from the screen and Eurus returned, the lights of the room flickering from the disconcerting red to the bright white. Sherlock took a long, shuddering breathe and Amelia's gaze flew back to him, concern washing over her at the furious look of disbelief he had written across his features, almost causing the gun in his hand, still aimed at Mycroft, to waver.
"Five minutes," he hissed out through gritted teeth, then, narrowing his eyes on his brother, "It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us," he shook his head slightly and Mycroft frowned. His gaze travelled over to John, who eyed him warily and then, lastly, his eyes fell on Amelia and he regarded her for what felt like the longest five seconds of her life. She could only stare back at him silently, heart pounding, until he looked away and pursued his lips thoughtfully, "Well, not on my watch".
He lowered the gun and, licking his lips, dropped it to his side. They all stared at him, even Amelia found herself lost as to what to make of this, but she trusted Sherlock…even after everything he had done, the lies of the previous few months, the knowledge that there was no boundaries he wouldn't cross in the belief of protecting his loved ones, even at the risk and safety of himself, Amelia trusted him, in this moment, to have found a way to get them out of this. She just hoped to God it wouldn't cost her.
"What are you doing?" Eurus demanded, frowning in confusion on the screen.
Sherlock looked briefly down at the ground, "A moment ago…." he began, slowly looking back up to them, "A brave man asked to be remembered," Amelia's eyes widened, hit by the sudden brick wall of realisation of what he was referring to…her heart dropped through the floor, while Sherlock looked directly ahead of himself, not blinking, "I'm remembering the Governor," he brought the gun smoothly up to rest just beneath his chin, tilting his head back for better access, both hands cradling the gun and his finger on the trigger. He still didn't flinch, even as he said softly, "Ten".
Amelia gaped at him in horror, her hand flying up to cover her mouth to try and hold in the strangled cry of disbelief…he couldn't! But…of course Sherlock Holmes could and would kill himself, merely to protect them all from dying, even at the cost of his own life. He had proven it time again that he would make this choice for those he loved, she just couldn't have ever imagined it would be a choice he would make right before her very eyes!
Eurus frowned and leaned forward, towards the camera, "No, no, Sherlock…" she said with a note of urgency creeping into her voice, looking truly startled.
"Nine…" he said calmly, still not blinking.
John and Mycroft looked at one another in shock, while Amelia could only shake her head, eyes filling with tears…she wished, more than anything, that she could read his mind. He had to have some sort of plan in mind, he had to have figured out something that her panic riddled mind hadn't fully grasped yet. Surely, he wasn't about to kill himself right now…he couldn't, there was no way…
"…Eight…"
"You can't!" Eurus called, almost sounding desperate now.
"…Seven…"
"You don't know about Redbeard yet!"
"…Six…"
Amelia slowly unconcerned her mouth, blinking almost blankly…Redbeard? Was this all about…the dog? But…how? Why? She knew it was completely absurd for her brain to be fixating on such a minor thing when Sherlock was literally holding a gun to his own head and counting down to his own death, but it must be important. Everything was connected, Eurus was doing everything today for a purpose and it was all about Sherlock…Cold, hard logic smacked her hard enough to almost cause her to physically reel backwards on the heels of her boots, hard enough to cause her to audibly gasp, though no one else noticed in the panic of the room. Eurus wasn't going to let Sherlock kill himself, no matter what happened today, he was the one person in this entire game who would be left untouched physically, and Sherlock knew that. All of the rest of them were pawns, but Sherlock was untouchable. He was the target, he wasn't going to die and he knew that, he was using Eurus's own hand against her to save them all.
"Sherlock!" Eurus cried, starting to become truly panicked now.
"…Five…" he kept on counting, not batting an eye.
"Sherlock, stop that at once!"
There was a loud whizzing noise and Amelia gasped out in pain and shock, suddenly feeling a sharp, burning sting hit her neck, like a bee sting. Her hand flew up to her neck, distantly aware that John, Mycroft, and even Sherlock, had all flinched, as if hit with something too, and her hand brushed over a small dart embedded into the back of her neck. She gasped and pulled it from her neck, terror washing over her, even as she felt a warm, numbing sensation starting to race through her entire nervous system, down her arms and into her fingertips, tingling them. She blinked rapidly, trying to focus her shifting, blurring gaze on the dart…
"Four…" Sherlock's voice sounded as if it was underwater now, distant and weakened, "…three…two…"
Amelia blinked blankly at her hand, when her fingers suddenly lost control and she dropped the tiny dart, feeling her own body slowly starting to follow it down onto the floor, too. The world around her shifted out of focus, even as she fought to try and keep her eyes open, even as she scrambled to try and steady herself, but it was a battle she didn't have a chance of winning and far too quickly, the world around her faded into nothingness and she knew know more.
Two more chapters to go…I don't want to say goodbye yet, I seriously don't. I've already almost finished writing the last chapter and I'm pretty sure I'm going to cry when I publish it. It's been a long journey.
Fun fact, I originally planned for Amelia and Mycroft to have a thing. You might be able to figure that out yourselves by looking back at past chapters, ones I've yet to re-write and correct, but when I first began writing this series I kind of liked the idea of toying with Mycroft and Amelia having a flirtation, a bit of a contrast between her and Sherlock, I guess. By the second season, I came to the realisation that it simply wouldn't work and abandoned that idea entirely, and I'm happy I did. I feel like Sherlock would have been turned off completely by the idea that Amelia had any flirtation with Mycroft. Amelia's line in this chapter about how Mycroft missed his chance with her was a cheeky throw back to myself.
I hope you guys liked it, tell me what you thought. Please review :)
Guest review:
Nina: Delighted you thought so! Thanks for the review :)