Clique of 221B

Chapter 39: Sherlock's Choice

"Sherlock, however hard that was-" Mycroft starts but Sherlock cuts him off,
"Eurus, I won. I won." She doesn't say anything. "Come on, play fair. The girl on the plane - I need to talk to her." You look at Eurus who seems a little emotional for the first time, though if it's genuine? "I won. I saved Molly Hooper." Eurus reappears on the screen in front of you.
"Saved her? From what? Oh, do be sensible. There were no explosives in her little house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didn't win. You lost." Sherlock frowns at her. "Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself." Sherlock turns away. "All those complicated little emotions. I lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock. It destroys you every time." Your hands twitch violently in anger feeling the long buried sensation of wanting to throttle someone. No. Not that. Not that anymore. You focus on Sherlock who walks past the coffin, dropping the gun beside it and continues walking towards the lid propped up against the wall. Eurus continues speaking, "Now, please, pull yourself together. I need you at peak efficiency. The next one isn't going to be so easy." Another door slides open. You turn to look at it. "In your own time." The screen turns off and she finally stops speaking. It's silent. Sherlock picks up the lid and turns and walks towards the coffin while Mycroft and John head for the door. You stay leaning against the wall, your eyes closed, trying to contain your emotions. Sherlock puts the lid into place on top of the coffin and you all turn to watch him. He rests his hand on the top and leans his head into his hands, his eyes lowered as he breathes out what sounds like a quiet sob.
"Sherlock?" John asks. Pulling his hand across the top of the lid, Sherlock turns towards the coffin. He yells with rage, pulls back his arm and smashes it down onto the lid, shattering it. He draws back his hand and then slams both fists down onto the lid again and again, then seizes the side of the coffin and lifts the whole thing before smashing it down repeatedly into the floor, shattering the box into splittered pieces while he cries out over and over again in anguish, pain, and frustration. Eventually he lets out a long scream which reverberates across the room and up into the air above the prison. You hear the rain pouring, while lightning flashes and thunder echoes. Pathetic fallacy. Sherlock backs away and slumps against the wall. The other two don't approach him, but you do. You slide down next to him. He takes a hold of your hand,
"You're not like her."
"Who?"
"Eurus. I know you're thinking about it."
"I did wonder."
"You're not, [Y/N]." You nod faintly, unconvinced.
"I was though." He wraps his arm around your shoulder and you lean against him. "I was just like her." He clings onto you and you continue to hold him for a while. A few minutes later, John walks across the room, and bends down to pick up the gun from the floor. He clears his throat and walks across to where Sherlock is sitting with you. Sherlock's lowered his head and he is staring at the floor in front of him, breathing heavily with a distressed look on his face. Mycroft is standing and watching them from just outside the open door. John stops a few paces in front of you both.
"Look, I know this is difficult and I know you're being tortured, but you have got to keep it together." Sherlock looks up at him,
"This isn't torture, this is vivisection. We're experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats." He raises his head  against the wall and gazes upwards at the ceiling. You glance at Mycroft who's watching nearby, looking concerned - for me or Sherlock. Sherlock glances in his direction without turning his head, then swallows hard and looks up at John,
"Soldiers?" John nods,
"Soldiers." He bends down and holds out his hand to Sherlock, who takes it with his own pulls himself to his feet. Sherlock buttons his jacket and holds a hand out for you. You take it and he pulls you up. John blows out a breath as you walk to the doorway. John holds out the pistol and Sherlock takes it as you reach the doorway. The lights turn red and Jim's voice comes over the speakers again,
"Tick-tock, tickets please!" The door leads directly into another grey-walled room. The lights turn white again. You look around the new room. There's no window and each of the four walls has a screen on it. There's nothing else in the room.
"Hey, sis, don't mean to complain but this one's empty. What happened? Did you run out of ideas?" Sherlock asks, confidence back. The screens turn on and show Eurus still sitting in the governor's office,
"It's not empty, Sherlock. You've still got the gun, haven't you? I told you you'd need it, because only two can play the next game. Just two of you go on from here: your choice." She smiles brightly at you all. "It's make-your-mind-up time. Whose help do you need the most – John or Mycroft?" Mycroft frowns at John, who turns away. "It's an elimination round. You choose one and kill the other. You have to choose family or friend. Mycroft or John Watson?"
"What about me?" You ask.
"Oh I'm keeping you Miss [Y/L/N]. But I want Sherlock to pick favourites." Oh, great. Sherlock turns round to face the others. The lights turn red and Jim appears on the screens,
"Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick."
"Eurus, enough!" Mycroft says, raising his voice. The lights turn white and her face returns.
"Not yet, I think. But nearly. Remember, there's a plane in the sky, and it's not going to land." Mycroft rubs his hands over his face and steps forward towards Sherlock.
"Well?" Well? Well what?