For the sake of this chapter Y/N is taller than 5'4" please don't come at me in the comments saying you're 5'4" or shorter :)
Y/N's P.O.V.
My head was spinning.
Eurus killed all three of the Garridebs and fear of what I needed the gun for was starting to terrify me.
The girl was back on the phone and there was a coffin on the table in the centre of the new room. Mycroft and John bickered about the plane, but I wasn't listening. My mind was preoccupied.
"I'm scared. I'm really scared." The girl whimpered and I let my back hit the wall as I slid down it, pulling my knees to my chest.
"Y/N?" John kneeled next to me.
"I'm fine, I'm just not feeling too great." I shook my head.
"A little lightheaded, is all."
"It's alright, I-" Sherlock tried to comfort the girl, giving me a concerned look, before the line disconnected again.
"Now. Back to the matter in hand." Eurus spoke.
"Coffin. Problem, someone is about to die. It will be, as I understand it, a tracked you. So many days not lived. So many words unsaid. Etcetera, etcetera..."
"Yes, yes, yes. And this, I presume, will be their coffin." Sherlock interrupted, clearly frustrated.
"Whose coffin Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment." I sighed and John stood up as Sherlock circled the coffin.
"Well, allowing of the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I'd say this coffin is intended for someone of about 5'4". Makes it more likely to be a woman." I let out a short breath, knowing that if the coffin was for me then Eurus would have got my size right.
"Not a child?" John asked.
"A child's coffin would be more expensive." I muttered.
"This is in the lower price range, although still, best available in that bracket."
"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 of choice. Aquatinted with the process of death, but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. Also the lining of the coffin-"
"Yes, yes, very good Sherlock." Mycroft sighed.
"Or we could just look at the name on the lid." Mycroft turned it around.
"Only it isn't a name."
I LOVE YOU
"So, it's for somebody who loves somebody." John muttered.
"Very helpful, Mycroft, thanks for that brilliant contribution." I muttered, getting up off of the floor.
"It's for somebody who loves Sherlock." Mycroft glared at me and Sherlock's eyes fell on me.
"Acquainted with the process of death, but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal." John muttered Sherlock's earlier words, looking at me with concern and I glanced down at the gun in my hands. Was this Eurus' endgame? To kill everyone Sherlock cares about? Or getting us to kill ourselves, perhaps?
"No." Sherlock shook his head, taking the gun from my hands and throwing it across the room, as if he could read my thoughts.
"Don't go there. It's not for you." He glared at me.
"Don't be ridiculous. Look at the coffin. 5'4". Unmarried. Practical about death. Alone."
"Molly." John whispered.
"Molly Hooper." I brought my hand up to my mouth and Sherlock wrapped his arm around me tightly.
"She's perfectly safe for the moment." Eurus smiled.
"Her flat is rigged to explode in approximately 3 minutes, unless I hear the release code from her lips. I'm calling her on your phone, Sherlock." The screen changed from Eurus' face to three camera angles of Molly's kitchen and a three minute timer.
"Make her say it."
