Y/N's P.O.V.
"Mycroft, what a pleasant surprise." I smiled as I opened the door to him, earning a glare.
"The boys will be back in a moment, they just nipped out. What can we do for you this morning, dear?"
"You know why I'm here." He muttered and I hummed.
"I presume you had something to do with the pantomime in my house last night? How could you let them do that to me?"
"Well, I think you deserved it." I shrugged, earning another glare.
"And you didn't seriously think they orchestrated that entire thing by themselves, did you? I disabled your security and helped out here and there. Unfortunately, I was feeling a little under the weather, so I stayed back here." I leaned against the desk and he looked at me suspiciously.
"There's an east wind coming, Mycroft. Coming to get you..." I repeated in a child-like voice and his eyes widened. I heard the door open and close downstairs.
"You're insane." He whispered and I smiled, nodding.
"Ah, finally!" Sherlock sighed as he pulled off his scarf, walking into the flat. I gestured to the seat that had been left for Mycroft and he scowled at me as John and Sherlock took off their coats and sat down. John picked up his notebook and I watched in amusement as they proceeded to ignore Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson making it up the stairs with an amused smile.
"You have to sit in the chair." Mrs. Hudson spoke after a moment.
"They won't talk to you, unless you sit in the chair, it's the rules."
"I'm not a client." Mycroft scoffed.
"Then get out." Sherlock replied instantly. With a sigh, Mycroft sat in the chair and I couldn't hide my smirk.
"She's not going to stay there, is she?" He asked, gesturing to Mrs. Hudson. Sherlock nodded his head towards her, silently letting her know that she could leave.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Mrs. Hudson asked.
"Thank you."
"The kettle's over there." She pointed to the kitchen and gave me a cheeky smile, before turning and going downstairs.
"So what happens now? Are you going to make deductions?" Mycroft asked sarcastically.
"You're going to tell the truth, Mycroft, pure and simple." Sherlock answered, not even looking at his brother.
"Who was it that said, 'Truth is rarely pure and never simple'?" Mycroft muttered. Oscar Wilde.
"I don't know and I don't care." Sherlock snapped.
"So there were three of us. I know that now. You, me... and Eurus." Mycroft nodded.
"The sister I can't remember. Interesting name, Eurus. It's Greek, isn't it?"
"Yes, yeah, uh, literally, the God of the East Wind." John commented.
"The East Wind is coming, Sherlock." Sherlock muttered.
"You used that to scare me."
"No." Mycroft denied.
"You turned my sister into a ghost story."
"Of course I didn't. I monitored you." Mycroft muttered.
"Sorry, you what?" I asked and John gave me a funny look, clearly not getting it either.
"Memories can resurface. Wounds can reopen. The roads we walk have demons beneath. And yours have been waiting for a very long time." Mycroft looked at his brother.
"I never bullied you. I used, at discrete intervals, potential driver words to update myself as to your mental condition. I was looking after you."
"Why can't I remember her?" Sherlock asked the question that had been bothering him for days.
"This is a private matter." Mycroft looked at me, then at John.
"Y/N and John stay." Sherlock muttered as John moved to get up.
"This is family." Mycroft whispered.
"That's why they stay!" Sherlock yelled and John and I exchanged a small smile.
"So... there were three Holmes kids." John cleared his throat.
"What was the age gap?"
"Seven years between myself and Sherlock, one year between Sherlock and Eurus." Mycroft admitted.
"Middle child." John pointed at Sherlock.
"Explains a lot." I laughed a little, Sherlock looking at me with a slight glare and I covered my mouth pretending to cough.
"Sorry." John smirked.
"So did she have it too?"
"Have what?" Mycroft asked.
"The deduction thing?"
"The deduction thing?" Mycroft mocked John and I cleared my throat.
"More than you can know."
"Enlighten me." John muttered.
"You realise I'm the smart one." Mycroft pointed between himself and Sherlock.
"As you never cease to announce." Sherlock muttered.
"But Eurus, she was incandescent, even then." Mycroft shook his head.
"Our abilities were professionally assessed more than once. I was remarkable. But Eurus was described as an era-defining genius, beyond Newton."
"Then why don't I remember her?" Sherlock repeated.
"You do remember her, in a way." Mycroft spoke softly.
"Every choice you've ever made, every path you've ever taken, the man you are today is your memory of Eurus. She was different from the beginning. She knew things she should never have known, as if she was somehow aware of truths beyond the normal scope." A haunted look washed over Mycroft's face.
"What's wrong?" John asked and I noticed the older Holmes flexing his hand, as if he was holding something.
"Sorry. The memories are disturbing." Mycroft muttered.
"What do you mean? Examples." Sherlock glanced at me.
"They found her with a knife once, she seemed to be cutting herself. Mother and father were terrified. They thought it was a suicide attempt." Mycroft explained.
"But it wasn't, was it?" I guessed and Mycroft looked at me.
"No. When I asked Eurus what she was doing, she said... 'I wanted to see how my muscles worked'." I covered my mouth in disbelief.
"So I asked her if he felt pain. And she said, 'Which one's pain?'."
"Then what happened?" Sherlock asked quietly and Mycroft stood up.
"Musgrave. The ancestral home where there was always honey for tea and Sherlock played among the funny gravestones." Mycroft muttered.
"Funny, how?" John asked.
"They weren't real. The dates were all wrong, an architectural joke which fascinated Sherlock."
"Who will find me? Deep down below the old beach tree. Help succour me now, the east winds blow..." Sherlock whispered and I looked at him in confusion, but Mycroft seemed to understand.
"Sixteen by six. Brother..."
"And under we go." Mycroft nodded and Sherlock looked at him.
"You're starting to remember."
"Fragments." Sherlock nodded.
"Redbeard."
"Redbeard?" John and I repeated in unison. Redbeard was with Molly and Rosie. He had taken a strong dislike to Mycroft, which Sherlock found endlessly amusing, so when I found out Mycroft was coming, I wanted no distractions.
"He was my dog."
