Glass: After the Storm

Stained Glass

The heavy metal door slid open with a whoosh. Sherlock stepped inside the room, bag in hand, and walked silently towards the glass. His eyes never left her as he placed his bag on the ground, watching as she sat still with her back to him, her long dark hair cascading down her back in frizzy waves. He stood quietly, making fists with his hands and stretching out his fingers in a slow, nervous rhythm.

After a few moments, he saw a twitch; a turn of the head, so slight, most people would have missed it. She was curious, he knew, wondering why he hadn't unzipped the bag, why he hadn't taken out his violin and began to play.

He took a breath. "I'm getting married, Eurus," he said, his voice echoing against the stony walls. "In two weeks."

She stayed sitting with her back to him. Silent and unmoving.

"I debated not telling you, but you're my sister... I want you to know. I want you to know that you were wrong; you said love made me weak. But it doesn't. Marrying Margaux does not make me weak. In fact, I feel this may be the bravest thing I've ever done." He stepped closer towards thick glass that separated them. "You may find it silly, but I feel an overwhelming need to thank you... You almost killed her. I know you don't care – I know you can't help the fact that you don't care. But if you hadn't brought me face-to-face with the prospect of losing her, I'm not sure I ever would have admitted to myself that I was in love."

She turned sharply, so quick it startled him. Her eyes were round and vacant, like she was looking straight through him. He thought she might speak, but she never did.

"You have your own place setting," he said. "At the wedding breakfast. We're keeping a seat empty for you, between Mother and Vaughan. Though you can't attend, I wanted you to know we thought of you in our plans."

She cocked her head. He sighed and sat down on the floor with his knees up, resting his arms on them.

They remained silent for a while. Her glare was terrifying, forcing him to look away for moments at a time. But when he spoke again, he was sure to look straight at her.

"You were wrong, Eurus. Love is not a disadvantage." He cleared his throat. "I hope in these visits I've made to you, you are able to see that now."

She blinked slowly, before standing up and lifting her violin. Sherlock watched as she began to play. The melody was sad yet romantic – a song he didn't recognise. He sighed and clambered to his feet, unzipping his bag and raising the violin to his chin.

*

Molly stood with her arms outstretched, holding her breath as a measuring tape wrapped tight around her waist.

"You've lost weight since the last fitting," said the seamstress.

"Really? Oh, lovely," she replied with a giggle.

"Not lovely when I have a fortnight to make alterations."

"Oh, sorry."

"You haven't been dieting have you," said Mrs Hudson as she sat on the small couch. "It's bad for you. I've read things."

"No, no. Arthur and I have been going on morning walks." She smiled, her cheeks blushing. "I suppose the weight's come off naturally."

"Well that's good," Margaux added. "I'm sure it won't be any trouble to take the dress in a bit..." her eyes darted to the woman as she knelt at Molly's feet.

The seamstress stood up, forcing a smile. "Of course not. Shall we go and try on your dress?"

Margaux nodded, placing her champagne glass on the table and following her into the small fitting room at the back of the boutique.