Clique of 221B

Chapter 29: Mycroft's Case

"You have to sit in the chair." Mrs Hudson tells Mycroft who's stood next to the client chair which is in its place in front of Sherlock and John who are in their usual seats. Mrs Hudson is stood outside the door. You're lent against the door frame next to her. He turns to look at her. "They won't talk to you unless you sit in the chair. It's the rules."
"I'm not a client." Mycroft says crossly.
"Then get out." Sherlock answers, not even looking at Mycroft. You glance at Mycroft. He doesn't look like he only slept two and a half hours last night - unlike me. You spent most of the night up with Mycroft as he told you about his sister. Mycroft surrenders and sits down and waves a hand towards Mrs Hudson.
"She's not going to stay there is she?" You smile and answer him, pretending he's talking about you.
"Do you not want me here Myc?" He turns to me and narrows his eyes at me.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" She asks him.
"Thank you." She points to the kitchen, "Kettle's over there." Then she turns and goes down the stairs.
"So what happens now? Are you going to make deductions?" Mycroft asks Sherlock.
"You're going to tell the truth Mycroft - pure and simple."
"Who was it who said, 'the truth is rarely pure and never simple.'" Sherlock turns to face Mycroft,
"I don't know and I don't care. So there were three of us, I know that now. You, me and... Eurus. A sister I can't remember." He pauses. "Interesting name, Eurus. It's Greek isn't it?" John looks down at his notebook,
"Hm. Yeah, um literally the God of the East Wind."
"Yes." Mycroft says quietly. Sherlock gazes at the floor,
"'The East Wind is coming, Sherlock.' You used that to scare me."
"No."
"You turned my sister into a ghost story."
"Of course I didn't, I monitored you."
"You what?" John asks him.
"Memories can resurface, wounds can re-open. The roads we walk have demons beneath-" He turns to Sherlock. "- and yours have been waiting for a very long time. I never bullied you. I used, at discrete intervals, potential trigger words to update myself as to your mental condition. I was looking after you."
"Why can't I remember her?" Sherlock asks intensely. Mycroft stays quiet for a moment before saying,
"This is a private matter."
"John stays."
"This is family." Mycroft whispers harshly.
"That's why he stays." Sherlock answers firmly. "Just as much as why [Y/N] is here." The two brothers stare at each other, then Mycroft leans back in his chair. John clears his throat,
"So there were three Holmes kids. What was the age gap?"
"Seven years between myself and Sherlock, one year between Sherlock and Eurus."
"Middle child, explains a lot." John comments. Sherlock throws him a look and you smirk. "So did she have it too?" He asks Mycroft.
"Have what?"
"The deduction thing."
"The deduction thing?" Mycroft says sarcastically. "Yes." Mycroft gazes towards the fireplace, "More than you can know." There's a pause before John tells him to,
"Enlighten me."
"You realise I'm the smart one?" Mycroft points between himself and Sherlock. We all know.
"As you never cease to announce." Sherlock adds.
"But Eurus, she was incandescent even then. 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 repeats.
"You do remember her, in a way. Every choice you 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." You watch Mycroft as he suddenly straightens in his chair.
"What's wrong?" John asks him.
"Sorry. The memories are disturbing."
"What do you mean? Examples." Sherlock demands.
"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. But when I asked Eurus what she was doing, she said... 'I wanted to see how my muscles worked.'"
"Jesus!" John exclaims.
"So I asked her if she felt pain, and she said... 'Which one's pain?'"
"What happened?" Sherlock asks.
"Musgrave. The ancestral home - where there was always honey for tea and Sherlock played amongst the funny gravestones."
"Funny how?"
"They weren't real. The dates were all wrong. An architectural joke which fascinated Sherlock." You look at Sherlock who is gazing away into the distance, soon he begins to whisper,
"Help succour me now..." Then Mycroft joins in.
"-the East winds blow."
"Sixteen by six..."
"...and under we go." Mycroft looks haunted by what Sherlock's saying. Sherlock turns to look at him.
"You're starting to remember."
"Fragments." Mycroft then mentions the Redbeard incident - he'd already told me about this last night. The real story.
"Redbeard?" John asks.
"He was my dog." No he wasn't, Sherlock.
"Eurus took Redbeard and locked him up somewhere no-one could find him." Mycroft explains. "-and she refused to say where he was. She'd only repeat that song. Her little ritual." I can just imagine a little Sherlock searching desperately for his best friend. "We begged and begged her to tell us where he was, but she said, 'The song is the answer'. But the song made no sense."
"What happened to Redbeard?" Sherlock asks him.
"We never found him. But she started calling him 'Drowned Redbeard', so we made our assumptions." Mycroft turns to John. "Sherlock was traumatised. Natural, I suppose, he was, in the early days, an emotional child but after that he was different - so changed. Never spoke of it again. In time, he seemed to forget that Eurus had ever even existed."
"How could he forget? She was living in the same house."
"No. They took her away." Sherlock looks up at him quickly.
"Why? You don't lock up a child because a dog goes missing."
"Quite so. It was what happened immediately afterwards." He tells you about the night she started the fire which destroyed their home. Mycroft's eyes are closed, eventually he opens them and continues,
"After that, our sister had to be taken away."
"Where?"
"Oh, some suitable place – or so everyone thought. Not suitable enough, however. She died there."
"How?"
"She started another fire. One which she did not survive."
"This is a lie." Sherlock states. Mycroft hesitates for a moment.
"Yes. It is also a kindness. This is the story I told our parents to spare them further pain, and to account for the absence of an identifiable body."
"And no doubt to prevent their further interference."
"Well, that too, of course. The depth of Eurus' psychosis and the extent of her abilities couldn't hope to be contained in any ordinary institution. Uncle Rudi took care of things."
"Where is she, Mycroft? Where's our sister?"
"There's a place called Sherrinford, an island. It's a secure and very secretive installation whose sole purpose is to contain what we call 'the uncontainables.' The demons beneath the road – this is where we trap them. Sherrinford is more than a prison or an asylum, it is a fortress built to keep the rest of the world safe from what is inside it. Heaven may be a fantasy for the credulous and the afraid, but I can give you a map reference for Hell." Sherlock looks at him sharply at such strong words from Mycroft. "That's where our sister has been since early childhood. She hasn't left – not for a single day. Whoever you both met, it can't have been her." The last sentence he addressed to John. Suddenly a loud crash of breaking glass sounds from the kitchen.