Face the Odds

Chapter 26: Skeletons in the Closet

"Musgrave." Mycroft explained grimly. "The ancestral home, where there was always honey for tea."

Marie leant forward, listening intently as Mycroft continued: "And Sherlock played among the funny gravestones."

Sherlock's eyes narrowed in thought, his brows furrowing in confusion, while John questioned: "Funny how?"

"They weren't real." Mycroft explained. "The dates were all wrong. An architectural joke, which fascinated Sherlock."

"Wrong how?" Marie questioned this time, and Mycroft looked at her.

"Nemo Holmes," he replied in answer, "born 1617, died 1822... aged 32 years."

All three friends frowned, and Mycroft nodded once. John and Marie continued to look thoughtful, while Sherlock's eyes narrowed even further as he remembered faintly...

"Help succour me now..." Sherlock murmured suddenly, causing both John and Marie to look at him curiously while Mycroft simply joined his brother in murmuring to a vague sing-song tune: "...the East winds blow."

Marie looked between them, brows furrowed, as Sherlock continued to stare into space as he remembered the words to the song that a young girl had sung at some point in his past: "Sixteen by six..."

"And under we go." Mycroft finished for him, and Sherlock glanced back at Mycroft, his gaze refocusing once more.

"You're starting to remember." Mycroft noted, staring back at Sherlock intently, and Sherlock acknowledged as his eyes unfocused once more: "Fragments."

Marie glanced at him worriedly, as did John, when Sherlock abruptly said: "Redbeard."

"Redbeard?" John repeated questioningly, while Marie's brows furrowed even further as she noted: "You mentioned him before... you said he was-"

"My dog." Sherlock confirmed, and Marie said slowly: "Yes."

She turned back to Mycroft as she asked cautiously: "What does Redbeard have to do with this?"

Mycroft met her gaze evenly as he answered grimly: "Eurus took Redbeard and locked him up somewhere no-one could find him."

"What?" Marie whispered, her blood going cold, and Mycroft exhaled deeply as he added: "And she refused to say where he was."

Marie and John exchanged looks in horror as Mycroft continued heavily: "She'd only repeat that song; her little ritual. We begged and begged her to tell us where he was. But she said, 'The song is the answer'."

Sherlock was spacing out again, staring unseeingly at the flat as he recalled a dim memory from his youth of running out in a field of some sort, crying for his childhood best friend.

John and Marie were listening intently, in a mix of disturbed incredulity and sheer horror, as Mycroft finished: "But the song made no sense."

Sherlock finally snapped back to focus, turning to Mycroft as he asked intently: "What happened to Redbeard?"

"We never found him." Mycroft answered, a grim and strained smile flashing across his face momentarily before it disappeared again as he added: "But she started calling him 'Drowned Redbeard', so we made our assumptions."

Sherlock stilled, apparently going into shock, while Marie breathed: "Oh, my God."

Her hand clutched Sherlock's in both comfort and to seek comfort, while Mycroft looked at her and then John as he explained: "Sherlock was traumatised. Natural, I suppose – he was, in the early days, an emotional child; but after that he was different, so changed."