(Open POV)
Airplane...
A young girl has blue eyes and brown curly hair, who looks no older than ten years old and possibly younger, and she looks up. The plane is shaking, the lights are flickering on and off and above her the emergency oxygen masks have dropped down and are swaying back and forth. The girl turns to the window and pushes up the blind and looks out. It's dark outside. She pulls the blind down and turns to the woman sitting beside her with her eyes closed.
"Mummy?" The girl asked.
The woman doesn't wake. Frowning, the girl stands up and looks along the plane. All the passengers have their eyes closed, and above them all the oxygen masks have dropped down. The plane jolts again. The girl turns to her mother and worriedly shakes her.
"Mummy! Wake up! Wake up! Mummy!" The girl yelled, and when her mother still doesn't respond, the girl unclips her seatbelt, stands up and squeezes past her mum's knees to get to the aisle.
Crockery rattles and she looks to the rear of the plane. A flight attendant is lying in the aisle unconscious, crockery and a coffee pot on the floor in front of her. The girl turns and looks to the front of the plane and gasps at what she sees. The door to the flight deck is open and the pilot can be seen slumped over the controls, his right arm dangling at his side. The co-pilot is lying on the floor behind his seat. The girl anxiously calls towards the flight deck.
"Wake up!" The girl said, angrily.
A mobile phone can be heard ringing some distance away. The girl starts to walk towards the flight deck, stopping to shake the arm of the person sitting in the aisle seat in front of her row. When she gets no response she continues forwards, her feet crushing sweets that have rolled into the aisle. Her look of distress increases when she sees another flight attendant unconscious on the floor at the front of the aisle. The ringing phone is closer and she sees it on a small shelf in front of a couple of passengers in the front seats. She reaches over and picks up the phone. She pushes the screen and holds the phone to her ear.
"Help me, please." The girl said, anxiously, tearfully. "I'm on a plane and everyone's asleep. Help me!"
A very familiar male voice speaks over the phone, "Hello. My name's Jim Moriarty. Welcome ... to the final problem."
Theater...
Flickering black and white film footage can be seen. It seems to be a bit of film noir made in the 1940s or 1950s and is set in the office of a private investigator. The investigator, Leonard, stands with his back to his desk and in front of him is a typical femme fatale, Velma, holding a cigarette. Both characters speak with American accents.
"You know I could arrest you?" Leonard asked.
"What for?" Velma asked.
"Wearing a dress like that."
"Would you like me to take it off?"
"Then I'd really have to press charges."
"Press away."
Mycroft is in a small room with a film projector behind him. Sitting in an armchair with his left elbow on the arm and his fingers propping his head up, he smiles and mouths Leonard's lines every time he speaks.
"Isn't that how they got started?" Velma asked, offscreen.
"Who?" Leonard asked, offscreen, with Mycroft mouthing along.
"Adam and Eve." Velma said, offscreen.
"Oh, them." Leonard said, offscreen, with Mycroft mouthing along.
"And that turned out okay." Velma said, offscreen.
"You think so?" Leonard asked, offscreen.
Mycroft was too busy smiling to mouth that line. Now he turns his head and picks up a glass as he mouths the next line.
"I thought it was supposed to be the beginning of all human misery." Leonard said, offscreen, with Mycroft mouthing along.
Mycroft drinks from his glass while looking at the film footage.
"Now, what was all that about arresting me?" Velma asked, flicking the ash from her cigarette onto the floor beside her.
Mycroft smiles.
"Well, maybe not arresting you." Leonard said, offscreen.
"No?" Velma asked, offscreen.
"I could just keep you under close watch." Leonard said, on the footage.
For a split second the footage glitches, showing a yellowed image of a family of two adults and two children sitting on what looks like a beach, then the footage returns to the film.
"Very close?" Velma asked.
Mycroft frowns.
"Uh-huh." Leonard said, offscreen.
The footage glitches again, for a little longer this time and the yellowed image returns but then zooms in towards one of the children, a young overweight boy, about eleven years old. Clearly this is old cine footage. The screen briefly returns to Velma in the movie, then flicks over to a close-up of the fat boy smiling at the camera, then returns to the movie. Mycroft sits up and turns round to look at the film projector.
"Shame. I was looking forward to putting myself into the hands of the authorities." Velma said, offscreen.
"You were?" Leonard asked.
"Fingerprinting ..." Velma said.
Turning back, Mycroft reaches over and stubs out a lit cigarette in an ashtray.
"... being searched ..." Velma said, offscreen.
Mycroft turns to the screen.
"... thoroughly." Velma said.
Again, the footage glitches and the boy smiles quirkily into the camera. Now the footage jumps more quickly back and forth between the professional movie and the home movie. In the latter, a beach ball bounces across to a younger boy, about four years old, who has a mop of brown curly hair. The camera pulls up and the mother stands up and waves. Mycroft is obviously puzzled but can't help smiling at the sight. The father kneels down to the older son who is holding a plate piled high with sandwiches and an apple, and is taking a bite from a sandwich. Whatever the father says to him on the silent footage, the boy pulls the plate protectively closer to him. The footage cuts to the parents sitting in their deckchairs as the father beckons to the younger boy who trots towards them; then it cuts to the younger boy piling on top of the older one who is half-reclined on the sand with a book in his hands. The older boy grins.
Again, Mycroft can't help but smile. The footage cuts to a far shot of the parents and their two boys waving into the camera, then briefly the screen goes white and jagged writing appears reading
I'M BACK
before the family continues to wave at the camera. The footage seems to briefly return to the black and white movie and a tight close-up of the top half of Velma's face, except that those aren't the eyes of the actress; they're Eurus' eyes. Again the family waves to the camera, then the white screen and the 'I'M BACK' message reappear before the footage dissolves.
Mycroft stares at the screen in shock while, behind him, the last of the film tape spools off the end of the reel.
Mycroft stands and stares at the now blank white screen in front of him. After a moment he walks to a nearby door and takes hold of the handle and tries to open the door. It won't budge. He takes hold of the handle with both hands and struggles to open the door but to no avail. A female voice whispers echoingly in the room behind him.
"Mycroft." A voice said.
Mycroft turns and walks back a few paces, looking up to the ceiling when he hears footsteps running across the room upstairs. The film continues to rattle loudly on the projector. There's a sound behind him and Mycroft turns to look as the door noisily creaks open. He slowly walks through the doorway and stops on the other side, and behind him the door rapidly and loudly slams shut. He turns to look at it, then turns back at the sound of electric fizzing noises.
Mycroft's home...
The lights in the hall in front of him flicker and then go out with a loud pop. He walks slowly forward to where his umbrella is in a stand at the side of the hall. Taking it from the stand he holds it in both hands and sharply pulls it apart, revealing a sword blade attached to the handle. Dropping the fabric to the floor, he switches on a torch on his mobile phone and walks slowly forwards, breathing harshly. As he turns to look into an open door, shining the light into the room, a small figure runs across the hall further along. It appears to be a young girl wearing a dress and long white socks and with her dark hair tied in two long ponytails either side of her head. She disappears into the darkness. A clock starts to chime. Frowning, Mycroft turns towards the other end of the hall and when he turns around again the girl is back, standing facing him in the shadows beside the stairs. He walks slowly towards her and an adult female voice whispers in the darkness.
"Mycroft." The voice said.
Mycroft gets closer to the child and shines his torch on her. It's not a child at all – it's a mannequin with a blank white face, wearing the same dress and socks and a dark wig with ponytails. He turns and calls out along the hall.
"Why don't you come out and show yourself? I don't have time for this." Mycroft said.
A child's voice comes from the darkness.
"We have time, brother dear. All the time in the world." The child's voice said.
Behind Mycroft, the 'real' little girl bursts out of the darkness and runs up the stairs. The mannequin can still be seen behind Mycroft. He turns and chases up the stairs after the girl. Slowing down on the half-landing, he turns and walks up the next flight. The upper floor is slightly better lit and he tucks his phone into his trouser pocket as the child's voice is heard again.
"Mycroft!" The child's voice said, in a sing-song voice.
Mycroft walks slowly along the hall, "Who are you?"
"You know who!" The voice yelled, now sounding more adult, but still sing-song.
Mycroft shakes his head, "Impossible."
"Nothing's impossible." The voice said, more child-like and sounding petulant.
The lights start to flicker on and off.
"You of all people know that." The child's voice said.
On the left-hand wall of the hallway hang a row of paintings. Mycroft has passed a painting of a large country house and now reaches a portrait of a historical male figure. As he looks at it, illuminated by a light above the picture frame, blood starts to pour from the eyes and from one side of the mouth. He walks further along the hallway to the next portrait, this one of a historical woman, which also has blood coming from the eyes and mouth and running down the picture. He continues on and looks at the next picture, another historical man who bears a strong resemblance to Mycroft himself. This too has blood running from the eyes and one side of the mouth.
"Coming to get you!" The child's voice said, sing-song.
Behind Mycroft, the helmet from a suit of armour is tossed across the hall and crashes noisily to the floor. Mycroft turns around.
"There's an East Wind coming, Mycroft! Coming to get you!" the child's voice said, sing-song.
"You can't have got out! You can't!" Mycroft said, backing away, his eyes wide.
From a side turning further along the hallway near a standing suit of armour, a clown in full costume and make-up leans out into view. Slowly leaning over sideways to an almost ninety-degree angle, he then straightens up and steps into the hallway. As Mycroft stares in disbelief, the clown reaches across to the suit of armour and pulls its sword from the sheath and holds it up beside himself, pointing the tip towards Mycroft and raising his other hand forward. Trying – and failing – to look determined, Mycroft raises his own sword in front of him, pointing the tip towards the ceiling, then lowers it and whips the blade in front of him a few times. Pointing it towards the clown, he starts to move forwards slowly while the clown makes 'bring it on' gestures with his hand and sword. Mycroft takes another step forward, then takes a handkerchief from his trouser pocket and clamps it around the base of his blade, twists it off the handle and aims the small gun attached to the end of the handle at the clown. He pulls the trigger but the gun just clicks.
"No use, Mycroft." The child's voice said, sing-song.
Mycroft pulls the trigger again but the gun only clicks again.
"There's no defence ..." The child's voice said, becoming more of a whisper. "... and nowhere to hide."
The clown roars and charges forward. Mycroft cringes back and then turns and pelts down a nearby flight of stairs. Running into the hall downstairs, he hurries to the two nearby doors and tries each one but they're locked. The clown stops on the upstairs landing and watches him over the bannisters. Mycroft turns and looks as a shadowy figure walks past the nearby upper windows. Upstairs someone pushes through heavy curtains over one of the entrances to the landing. It's Sherlock, complete with greatcoat and deerstalker and Jared is standing beside him, wearing his hoodie and jeans.They stop on the landing and the fanboy look across to the clown.
"Sherlock? Jared? Help me!" Mycroft said, terrified.
"Okay." Jared said, taking out his sonic screwdriver, and activating it for all the lights to come on.
The clown looks down at Mycroft, who stares in shock as Rena Minami comes on the ground floor, in her Magical Girl form
"Experiment complete. Conclusion: I have a sister." Sherlock said.
"This was you? All of this was you and Jared?" Mycroft asked, raising his head to Sherlock and speaking angrily.
"Conclusion two: my sister – Eurus, apparently – has been incarcerated from an early age in a secure institution controlled by my brother." Sherlock said, while Mycroft raises his hands and presses the palms against his eyes. Unseen by him, Sherlock waves cheerfully at him. "Hey, bro!"
"Why would you and Jared do this ..." Mycroft said, tiredly, lowering his hands and speaks through gritted teeth. "... this pantomime? Why?"
"Conclusion three: you are terrified of her!"
"You have no idea what you're dealing with." Mycroft said, sternly, angrily. "None at all."
"New information: she's out." John said, coming out of a corridor on the ground floor.
"That's not possible."
"It's not impossible. It's a bit unlikely. She was John's therapist after Mary died." Jared said, sadly.
"Shot me during a session." John said.
"She shot you with a tranquilizer."
"Mm. We still had ten minutes to go."
"Well, we'll see about a refund." Sherlock said, as John smiles.
Jared starts coming down the stairs with Sherlock and addresses his actors, "Okay, Rena, Touka. Thanks a bunch for helping. I'll send you money later."
"Thank you." Rena said, smiling at Jared and walking away.
"You can spend the money all you want on Sayuki merch."
"Thanks." Rena said, looking back at Jared for a moment, before continuing on walking.
"And Nemu. I booked a vacation for you, Ui, and Touka to Tokyo Disneyland." Jared said, looking at Nemum. "Thought you three would enjoy it."
"Thank you, Jared." Nemu said, walking away with Rena.
The clown Nemu made on the landing reaches up and squeezes his big red nose which makes a squeaking sound, and then walks away behind Nemu.
"It's no problem." Jared said, happily.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Sherlock walks across to Mycroft with Jared, smiling.
"Oh, I hope we didn't spoil your enjoyment of the movie." Sherlock said, heading for one of the nearby doors.
"You're just leaving?" Mycroft asked.
"Well, we're not staying here. Eurus is coming and, uh, someone's disabled all your security." Sherlock said, turning and opening the previously locked door and walks away with Jared, calling out over his shoulder. "Sleep well!"
John follows Sherlock and Jared but turns when Mycroft speaks.
"Doctor Watson. Why would Sherlock and Jared do that to me? That was insane!" Mycroft yelled. "Involving Magical Girls from Kamihama City to scare me!"
"Uh, yes. Well, someone convinced Sherlock that you wouldn't tell the truth unless you were actually wetting yourself." John said.
"'Someone'?"
John looks away thoughtfully, licking his lips before turning back to Mycroft, "Probably me."
"So that's it, is it? You're just going?" Mycroft asked.
"Well, don't worry. There's a place for people like you – the desperate, the terrified, the ones with nowhere else to run." John said, innocently.
"What place?" Mycroft asked, grimly.
John frowns momentarily and then looks at Mycroft as if he's an idiot, "221B Baker Street."
Mycroft closes his eyes in resignation and sighs silently.
"See you in the morning. If there's a queue, join it!" John said, turning and walking towards the door.
"For God's sake! This is not one of your idiot cases." Mycroft said, angrily.
As Mycroft speaks, John lifts a finger as if he's forgotten something, then turns and walks back into the hall, pointing upstairs.
"You might wanna close that window." John said, looking at Mycroft. "There is an East Wind coming."
Quirking a small smile at Mycroft, John turns and walks away again. Mycroft turns around and nervously looks upstairs.
(Jared's POV)
221B BAKER STREET...
It is daytime and the client chair sits in the middle of the room facing the fireplace. A man stands beside it but so far we can only see his legs. Sherlock sits in his armchair with his fingers steepled against his chin, staring downwards. Opposite him, John sits and watches him, twirling a pen in the fingers of his left hand. Mycroft is standing beside the client chair, his arms folded and a stubborn look on his face. I am sitting on the couch listening to music from The Amazing Digital Circus. John glances over to Mycroft for a moment before looking away again. Mrs Hudson is standing in the doorway with her arms folded, looking at Mycroft and smiling slightly as he lowers his head and bites his lip.
"You have to sit in the chair." Mrs Hudson said, as Mycroft turned and looks at her. "They won't talk to you unless you sit in the chair. It's the rules."
"I'm not a client." Mycroft said, tetchily.
"If you're not a client, then we don't want you here." I said, looking up at Mycroft.
"Then get out." Sherlock said, not looking round to Mycroft.
Mycroft turns to look at Sherlock, John, and I. John looks up towards Mycroft, tapping the tip of his pen against the arm of his chair. Unfolding his arms and holding them out in surrender, Mycroft walks around and sits in the chair. As Sherlock lowers his hands, Mycroft gestures towards Mrs H. while looking at his brother.
"She's not going to stay there, is she?" Mycroft asked.
Sherlock looks towards his landlady, then tilts his head to her.
"Would you like a cup of tea?" Mrs Hudson asked, looking at Mycroft.
"Thank you." Mycroft said.
"The kettle's over there." Mrs Hudson said, pointing towards the kitchen.
"Mrs Hudson? Can you vacuum your apartment?" I asked, and Mrs Hudson turned. "It's important that you do so."
"Thank you for reminding me, Jared, dear." Mrs Hudson said, heading down the stairs.
John, Sherlock, and I smile.
"So what happens now? Are you going to make deductions?" Mycroft asked, looking at Sherlock.
"You're going to tell the truth, Mycroft, pure and simple." Sherlock said.
"Who was it, said, 'Truth is rarely pure, and never simple'?"
"Oscar Wilde." I said, happily. "I prefer Agatha Christie, William Shakespeare, and Charles Dickens."
"Of course you do, Jared. You met all three." Sherlock said, shifting slightly to face his brother. "I don't know and I don't care. Jared, you're the only one who cares about those facts. So there were three of us, Mycroft. I know that now. You, me, and ... Eurus." Mycroft nods. "A sister I can't remember. Interesting name, Eurus. It's Greek, isn't it?"
"Yup. He was the God of the East Wind." I said, sadly. "I met Hades, Medusa, Pandora, and Poseidon. Man, Hades is going to be a pain someday."
John is looking at his notebook, clearly reading notes he has already made, "Mm. Yeah, Jared's right, uh, literally 'the god of the East Wind.'"
"Yes." Mycroft said, frowning.
"'The East Wind is coming, Sherlock'." Sherlock said, gazing towards the floor and looks at his brother. "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 asked.
"Memories can resurface; wounds can re-open. Mycroft said, looking at John. "The roads we walk have demons beneath ..." He turns his gaze 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 asked, softly, intensely.
Mycroft pauses for a moment, glancing in John's direction and my direction but not looking at us, "This is a private matter."
"John and Jared stay." Sherlock said, when John had been about to get up but now looks across to Sherlock, surprised.
Mycroft leans forward in his chair.
"This is family." Mycroft said, in a harsh whisper.
"That's why they stay." Sherlock said, loudly, firmly.
"So, we're family then." I said, while the Holmes boys lock eyes for a long moment. "That's great to hear."
"If you were able to warm up to Weiss Schnee as you said you did, you'd warm up to me eventually." Sherlock said, as John smiles and lowers his head. "It took time."
Eventually Mycroft sits back. John clears his throat.
"So there were three Holmes kids." John said, pulling the lid off his pen and re-opens his notebook. "What was the age gap?"
"Seven years between myself and Sherlock; one year between Sherlock and Eurus." Mycroft said.
John nods and points his pen in Sherlock's direction, "Middle child. Explains a lot."
"Most of my cousins on my dad's side were middle children." I said, as Sherlock threw John and I a look. "I miss them immensely."
Sherlock throws him a look. John raises his eyebrows at Sherlock and then turns his attention back to his notebook.
"So did she have it too?" John asked, looking at Mycroft.
"Have what?" Mycroft asked.
"The deduction thing." John said.
"'The deduction thing'?" Mycroft asked, sarcastically.
"... Yes." John said, after a moment.
"More than you can know." Mycroft said, looking reflectively towards the fireplace.
Mycroft pauses while Sherlock, John, and I look at him.
"Enlighten me." John said.
"You realise I'm the smart one?" Mycroft asked, gesturing between himself and his brother while looking at John.
"As you never cease to announce." Sheldon said, rolling his eyes.
"... 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." Mycroft said.
"Then why don't I remember her?" Sherlock asked, softly, intensely.
"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." Mycroft said, as Sherlock slowly turns his head away.
Mycroft looks down as if something has caught his attention.
(Open POV)
Beach...
Mycroft's feet are on a pebble beach. He stands, outdoors somewhere, and straightens up as a dog barks nearby.
"She was different from the beginning." Mycroft said.
Some distance away a young girl, maybe six years old, wearing a blue and white dress and a knitted oatmeal-coloured cardigan and with her hair tied into bunches either side of her head, stands watching an Irish setter trotting through the shallows of the river.
"She knew things she should never have known ..." Mycroft said.
Nearby, an overweight boy stands on one of a row of stepping stones across a stream. Wearing yellow boots, jeans and an olive-coloured jumper, he tosses a pebble into the water, perhaps attempting and failing to skim it. He looks across towards adult Mycroft, who turns away from him. Beyond him, little Eurus has her back to him and is watching as seven year old Sherlock, wearing red trousers, wellington boots and a dark yellow patterned jumper and with a pirate hat on his head, slashes at the water with his plastic sword. Adult Mycroft bends down and picks up a large pebble from the water's edge.
(Jared's POV)
221B Baker Street...
"... as if she was somehow aware of truths beyond the normal scope." Mycroft said, opening his hand in front of him.
Mycroft's fingers are wet and a large pebble lies in his palm.
(Open POV)
Beach...
Young Eurus turns around on the beach and looks directly at Mycroft. Mycroft looks startled.
"You look funny grown up." Eurus said.
221B Baker Street...
Mycroft straightens up in his chair a little, staring towards the fireplace.
"What's wrong?" John asked.
"Sorry." Mycroft said, looking down at his open hand, which is dry and empty.
Beach...
Mycroft hears the sound of a pebble splashing into the water.
(Jared's POV)
221B Baker Street...
Mycroft closes his hand, "The memories are disturbing."
"What is it? What's wrong? Can you give us some examples?" Jared asked, his iPhone 15 Pro Max in his hand.
"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 ..." Mycroft said, and it's as if little Eurus is standing facing him in front of the fire.
"I wanted to see how my muscles worked." Eurus said.
"Jesus!" John yelled, looking towards Mycroft.
"So I asked her if she felt pain, and she said ..." Mycroft said.
"Which one's pain?" Eurus asked.
"What happened?" Sherlock asked, looking at Mycroft.
Mycroft puts his hands on his knees and stands up.
(Open POV)
Musgrave...
Mycroft is outdoors again, standing a short distance away from a large, very old country house in the middle of nowhere.
"Musgrave." Mycroft said, while Sherlock, John, and Jared stand either side of him a few paces behind him. "The ancestral home, where there was always honey for tea."
Young Sherlock is wearing his yellow jumper and his pirate hat, sitting cross-legged on the grass in front of one of many gravestones not far from the country house. He is reading a book on his lap.
"... and Sherlock played among the funny gravestones." Mycroft said.
221B Baker Street...
"Funny how?" John asked, as Sherlock looked reflective.
Graveyard...
A woman's voice calls out, "Come on, you lot!"
The dog races past the adult men standing watching as young Sherlock scrambles up and runs towards the house.
"They weren't real. The dates were all wrong." Mycroft said.
Behind the adults and past one of the gravestones as carved into the stone are the words:
NEMO
HOLMES
1617 - 1822
Aged 32 Years
"An architectural joke which fascinated Sherlock." Mycroft said.
Still in the graveyard, Mycroft, John, and Jared look towards the house but Sherlock lowers his gaze and looks to the side as a child's voice starts to sing in his head.
"... who will find me / Deep down below the old beech tree?" The child's voice asked, singing.
Musgrave...
Kitchen of the house. A table has plates of food, coloured glasses and cups and saucers in front of the three children, as well as a butter dish and other items in the middle. Sitting on one side of the table beside her oldest brother, young Eurus sings the song while looking across to young Sherlock who is still wearing his pirate hat. He looks back at her unhappily.
221B Baker Street...
Sherlock stares into the distance and softly recites the next line while Eurus' voice echoes in his head.
"Help succour me now ..." Sherlock said, whispering.
'
Mycroft softly joins in while the girl's voice continues to sing along.
"... the East winds blow." Sherlock and Mycroft said, simultaneously.
"Sixteen by six ..." Sherlock said.
Musgrave...
Young Eurus sings the same line across the table to young Sherlock, although she adds the word 'brother' at the end of the line, a taunting look on her face as he looks back at her.
221B Baker Street...
"... and under we go." Mycroft said, his face haunted, and Sherlock turns to look at him. "You're starting to remember."
"Fragments." Sherlock said.
(Jared's POV)
Musgrave...
Young Sherlock gets down from the table and runs off. Eurus watches him go.
"Redbeard!" Young Sherlock yelled.
Young Mycroft looks round as his brother, holding his plastic sword, runs outside and chases across the graveyard.
"Redbeard!" Young Sherlock said, clambering up some steep steps towards the meadow beyond the graveyard where the adult John, Sherlock, Mycroft, and I are standing.
"Redbeard?" John asked.
"He was my dog." Adult Sherlock said.
Young Sherlock runs across the meadow. His pirate hat is a very deep blue, almost the same colour as the Coat he will wear in the future, and it has dark red bands sewn down it.
"Eurus took Redbeard and locked him up somewhere no-one could find him." Mycroft said, turning to watch the youngster.
"Redbeard!" Young Sherlock said, calling out.
"... and she refused to say where he was." Mycroft said.
Young Sherlock has run into woodland and heads for a wooden bridge across a stream, still calling Redbeard's name.
"She'd only repeat that song; her little ritual." Mycroft said.
Young Sherlock leans over the bridge, still calling out, "Redbeard!"
"We begged and begged her to tell us where he was." Mycroft said.
221B's living room...
Sherlock looks away as if he is remembering.
Woods...
Young Sherlock trudges back the way he came, still calling out.
"... but she said ..." Mycroft said.
"The song is the answer." Young Eurus said, in an intense whisper.
"But the song made no sense." Mycroft said.
Young Eurus sits at the kitchen table and sings sarcastically across it to Sherlock, "... brother, and under we go."
221B Baker Street...
"What happened to Redbeard?" Sherlock asked, turning to Mycroft.
"We never found him. But she started calling him 'Drowned Redbeard', so we made our assumptions." Mycroft said, looking at 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." John said.
"No. They took her away." Mycroft said, shaking his head sadly.
Sherlock looks round to Mycroft.
"Why? You don't lock up a child because a dog goes missing." John said.
"Quite so. It was what happened immediately afterwards." Mycroft said.
"And what happened afterwards?" I asked, sipping on a cup of tea.
(Open POV)
Musgrave...
Young Eurus is sitting cross-legged on the floor of – presumably – her bedroom with several crayon drawings in front of her. On her far left is a drawing of five people. She has written 'family' above the people and underneath, above each head, are the names 'daddy', 'mummy', 'mycroft', 'sherlock' and 'me'. Across the person labelled 'sherlock', she has scrawled a large red cross almost obliterating the figure beneath. Beside that are two separate drawings of her middle brother wearing a yellow and blue striped jumper. The lower one has an arrow pointing to the figure, identifying him as 'SHERLOCK' and a burst of blood seems to be coming from his throat and pouring out beside him. The drawing above that one shows a noose around Sherlock's neck with the rope leading upwards to where it is attached to a wall. The drawing at the top of her collection shows her father on the left beside a beach ball and a sand castle, and water laps at the bottom of the picture. Beside her dad is her mother, then a chubby Mycroft and then herself. A few paces to the right of her is Sherlock. She has drawn grey clouds all around him and has drawn a large red cross across his neck and a larger red cross across his body. There are two more drawings of Sherlock under this picture, one with another large red 'X' across his neck while his mouth turns downwards unhappily, and the second with black crosses where his eyes should be and angry red crayon scrawls all around him. Yet another drawing, below an uncorrupted drawing of Mycroft with a very round body – which itself is below a partially obscured drawing of the family home – shows Sherlock lying flat on what looks like a stone table or a slab.
There are more distressing drawings of Sherlock, and one of a gravestone with 'RIP SHERLOCK' written across it. In front of her, Eurus has another drawing of the house with Sherlock looking unhappily out of one window. As she draws a large cross over the entire window with a blue crayon, her parents' voices can be heard from a nearby room.
"She knows where he is!" Mr Holmes said, angrily.
"We can't make her tell us. We can't make her do anything." Mrs Holmes said.
Eurus puts down her crayon and looks up. Then she looks down again to the matchbox she is now holding. It has a dark shadowy house on the cover and its brand name is 'Maison de la Peur'. She shakes the box, then strikes a match on the side, holding it up to look at the flame. She gazes down at it, the flame reflecting in her eye.
Outside, adult Mycroft stands looking at the house. The entire upper storey is ablaze and parts of the roof have already fallen in. As more of the roof collapses, large flakes of ash float down around him. He stares towards the house with a look of devastation on his face, and closes his eyes.
(Jared's POV)
221B Baker Street...
Mycroft's eyes are closed and it's as if the ash is still falling around him.
Mycroft eventually opens his eyes and the ash gradually dissipates, "After that, our sister had to be taken away."
"Where?" Sherlock asked.
"Oh, some suitable place – or so everyone thought. Not suitable enough, however. She died there." Mycroft said.
"How?" John asked.
"She started another fire, one which she did not survive."
"This is a lie." Sherlock said, firmly.
"For a comparison, Sherlock is Sheldon, Mycroft is Georgie, and Eurus is Missy!" I said, excitedly. "Sherlock and Sheldon have mental intelligence, Mycroft and Georgie have physical intelligence, and Eurus and Missy have emotional intelligence."
"Fair point." John said, looking towards Mycroft, who hesitates only for a moment.
"Yes. That comparison is fair enough, Jared. Comparing us to the Coopers from the Big Bang Theory." Mycroft said, frowning. "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. Not the story about the Big Bang Theory, the story about Eurus."
"And no doubt to prevent their further interference." Sherlock said.
"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 Rudy took care of things."
"Where is she, Mycroft? Where's our sister?" Sherlock asked, softly, intensely.
"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.'" Mycroft said, as I closed my eyes to imagine an Alcatraz-like castle on top of a cliff. Guards armed with rifles patrol across the roof. The perspective changes to show that the prison is at the top of steep granite cliffs on a small island. As Mycroft continues to speak, I imagine a schematic overlay a side view of the island showing that much of the facility is underground. "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." I then imagined an overhead view of the facility that wipes out the schematic and pulls back to show the entire tiny island. "Heaven may be a fantasy for the credulous and the afraid, but I can give you a map reference for Hell."
Sherlock looks at Mycroft sharply. Mycroft draws in a breath.
"That's where our sister has been since early childhood. She hasn't left – not for a single day." Mycroft said, and Sherlock looks across to John and I, who returns our gaze. "Whoever the three of youu met, it can't have been her."
There's a loud crash of breaking glass from the direction of the kitchen, followed by the thump of something falling to the floor. John turns in his chair to look, then all four of us stand up and look towards the kitchen. Beyond all the equipment on the table and a clothes airer with various bits of paperwork clipped to it, the top part of the window has been smashed in. From the floor behind the table, an adult woman's voice can be heard softly singing. It's slightly tinny and so presumably coming from a small speaker.
"I that am lost / Oh, who will find me / Deep down below / The old beech tree?" A voice asked, singing.
As Mycroft's face fills with horror, a small drone rises up from the floor and hovers sideways across the room.
"Help succour me now / The East Wind's blowing / Sixteen by six, brother / And under we go." The voice said, singing.
The drone begins to fly forward across the kitchen table, the wind from its four rotors blowing papers and other stuff off the table.
As it heads towards the living room, Mycroft speaks urgently, "Keep back! Keep as still as you can!"
"What is it?" John asked, backing towards the dining table with me.
"My soul seeks / The shade of my willow's bloom ..." The voice said, singing.
"It's a drone." I said, grabbing strap of my sling bag.
"Yeah, I can see that." John said, glancing towards Mycroft as the drone continues into the room, the singing voice still coming from it, though the words can't be heard over the concerned conversation. There's a large silver-green grenade-shaped object on top of the drone. "What's it carrying?"
"What's that silver thing on top of it, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, standing near the fireplace, seen from a camera on the drone.
"It's a DX-707." Mycroft said, standing near the living room door when the drone hovers in mid-air between the four of us. "I've authorised the purchase of quite a number of these." The drone begins to lower towards the floor. "Colloquially it is known as 'the patience grenade'."
The drone lands on the floor and its rotors shut down.
"'Patience'?" John asked.
The grenade buzzes and the top pops up a little, showing a bright red light emanating from inside the device. It repeatedly beeps quietly.
"The motion sensor has activated. If any of us move, the grenade will detonate." Mycroft said.
From now on, everyone, including me speaks quietly, Sherlock in particular barely moving his lips.
"How powerful?" Sherlock asked.
"It will certainly destroy this flat and kill anyone in it. Assuming walls of reasonable strength, your neighbours should be safe, but as it's landed on the floor, I am moved to wonder if the café below is open." Mycroft said.
"It's Sunday morning, so it's closed." Sherlock said.
"Speedy's being closed lowers the amount of casualties involved." I said, happily.
"What about Mrs Hudson?" John asked.
I closed my eyes to imagine the ground floor kitchen. In the middle of the room, Mrs Hudson has an apron over her clothes. She is rocking around the room to the sound of Iron Maiden's 'The Number of the Beast' blaring from the earbuds she's wearing while she vacuums the lino.
I opened my eyes to hear the sound of the vacuum cleaner can faintly be heard.
"Jared, I can see why you asked Mrs Hudson to vacuum. It's to keep her safe from this. Going by her usual routine, I estimate she has another two minutes left." Sherlock said.
"She keeps the vacuum cleaner at the back of the flat." John said.
"So?" Mycroft asked.
"So, safer there when she's putting it away?" John asked, and Mycroft turns his head towards him. It's a miracle that the bomb doesn't promptly go off. "Look, we have to move eventually. We should do it when she's safest."
"When the vacuum stops, we give her eight seconds to get to the back of the flat. She's fast when she's cleaning. Then we move." Sherlock said, looking at Mycroft. "What's the trigger response time?" Mycroft looks at him blankly. "Once we're mobile, how long before detonation?"
"We have a maximum of three seconds to vacate the blast radius." Mycroft said, while John closes his eyes and sags slightly.
"John and I will take the windows. Jared, you use your vortex manipulator to get out of here. Brother, dear, you take the stairs. Help get Mrs Hudson out too." Sherlock said, looking between Mycroft, John, and I.
"Me?" Mycroft asked.
"Mycroft, you're closer to the door. And Sherlock, you're faster for a quick getaway." I said, letting out a sigh. "There. Saved us a few seconds."
"Thank you, Jared." Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. "Speed differential won't be as critical as the distance."
"Yes, agreed." Mycroft said, unhappily.
"She's further away. She's moving to the back." John said, referring to the humming sound of the vacuum cleaner downstairs.
"I estimate we have a minute left. Is a phone call possible?" Sherlock asked.
"Phone call?" Mycroft asked.
"John has a daughter." Sherlock said, glancing towards John without moving his head. "He may wish to say goodbye."
"I'm sorry, Doctor Watson. Any movement will set off the grenade." Mycroft said, as John bares his teeth, sighing silently. "I hope you understand."
"Jared, you were right. Oscar Wilde." John said, sadly.
"What?"
"He said, 'The truth is rarely pure, and never simple'. It's from 'The Importance of Being Earnest.' We did it in school." John said, and Sherlock quirks a lopsided grin.
"So did we. Now I recall. I was Lady Bracknell." Mycroft said, nodding very slightly.
John smiles a little.
"Yeah. You were great." Sherlock said.
"You really think so?" Mycroft asked.
"Yes, I really do."
"Well, that's good to know. I've always wondered."
"She's done." I said, when the vacuum cleaner shuts down. "Mrs Hudson's safe and sound."
Sherlock gives it a few seconds, then glances to John and I and then to Mycroft.
"Good luck, boys." Sherlock said, pausing for another moment, then starts to count more loudly. "Three, two, one, go!"
The four of us turn and in slow motion, we race for our exit points, Mycroft heading out of the door, John running for the right-hand window and Sherlock leaping up onto the back of his chair on his way to the left-hand window. I am typing in space time coordinates into my vortex manipulator and have my button on the trigger. Behind us, the device explodes and flames sweep across the room in all directions, enveloping everything in their path. John and Sherlock hurl themselves through the glass and plummet towards the road below, I pressed a button on my vortex manipulator before teleporting away in a flash of blue light, and a massive fireball roars out of the windows behind Sherlock and John. Black smoke rises high above the road.
(Open POV)
Fishing boat...
There's a small fishing boat out on the ocean. A radio broadcast can be heard.
"And now the shipping forecast, issued by the Met Office on behalf of the Maritime Coastguard Agency at 05:05. Thames, Dover ..." Someone on the radio said.
As the broadcast continues a young man, Ben, wearing a yellow oilskin coat and matching hat, opens the door to the wheelhouse and stumbles inside wiping his mouth and breathing heavily. An older man, Vince, looks round to him.
"Go on, son, get it up." Vince said, smiling cheerfully at Ben. "Better out than in."
"Is it always like this?" Ben asked.
Small wheelhouse...
It's very foggy outside.
"Nah." Vince said.
"Thank God." Ben said, happily.
"Usually it's much worse!" Vince yelled.
"Might go and work in a bank!" Ben said, plaintively, still breathing heavily, he looks up at the sound of rotors. "Is that an 'elicopter?"
"Nah, not in this weather." Vince said.
The radio broadcast is still continuing.
"... Lundy, Fastnet, Irish Sea, Shannon, Malin, Sherrinford. Sherrinford. Sherrinford." Someone on the radio said.
"You hear that?" Ben asked.
Vince glances round to Ben.
"Sherrinford." Someone on the radio said.
"I never 'eard that one before." Ben said, while the radio continues its normal shipping forecast. "Sherrinford?"
"Forget you ever 'eard it." Vince said, turning to Ben.
"What?"
"Sometimes when we're out in these waters, we get that message. Just forget about it."
"Yeah, but we've never ..."
Vince raises a warning finger to Ben.
"Just ... " Vince said, raising a hand and mimes zipping his lips shut, then points warningly at the young man.
Vince starts to turn back to the wheel when there's a loud thump on the roof of the wheelhouse, followed by a couple of less loud thumps. The men look up, then Vince goes to the door and heads outside, stepping a few paces away from the wheelhouse and then turning to look up. Ben comes out beside him. Sherlock is standing on the roof holding onto the ship's antennae with one hand, his coat whipping dramatically around him. Jared appeared in a flash of blue light to stand next to sherlock on the roof.
"Who the 'ell are you?" Vince asked.
"My name's Sherlock Holmes." Sherlock said, grabbing Jared's hand.
"And I'm Jared Shay." Jared said, as Sherlock squeezed Jared's hand.
"The detective! And the Avenger!" Ben said, looking between Sherlock and Jared.
"The pirate." Sherlock said.
John steps into view at the other side of the antennae and points a pistol at the men below. Ben raises his hands, his mouth wide in fear, and Sherlock dramatically leaps off the roof with Jared towards them.
SHERRINFORD ISLAND...
A distant shot of the island shows a large storm front close by it. Rain is pouring from the clouds and lightning flashes inside them. The rain hasn't yet reached the island. Above the island the camera rotates over the top of the castle-like structure and shows several guards, all dressed warmly against the weather and with blue beanie hats on their heads, patrolling the rooftops and carrying rifles.
Control Room..
On the lower level and on the stairs to either side more rifle-carrying guards, without the coats or hats and all wearing white shirts, stand in various places around the area. Yellow-jumpsuited auxiliary staff walk around, going about their daily business. Above the area is a small glass-walled room with many computer screens.
We switch to a view inside the glass room. Across the area outside, a natural-looking opening in the rock looks out towards the ocean. Inside the glass room, a technician speaks into a radio.
"Golf Whiskey X-ray, this is a restricted area, repeat, restricted area. You are off course." A technician said, as he speaks, he reaches across to a rotary fan on the desk beside him and switches it off. Perhaps he has had a gut feeling about what's soon going to hit it, before speaking into the radio. "Are you receiving?" There's no immediate reply and he activates his radio again. "Golf Whiskey X-ray, you are off course. Are you receiving?"
The radio from the other end activates.
"Yeah, receiving you. This is a distress call, repeat, distress call. We're in trouble here." John said, his voice over the radio.
A radar image on the screen in front of the technician shows a bright red dot close to the centre of the screen.
"Golf Whiskey X-ray, what is your situation?" The technician asked, getting no response. "Golf Whiskey X-ray? Where are you now?"
"We're headed for the rocks. We're going to hit." John said, his voice over the radio.
The technician sits back in his chair, then types rapidly on a keypad on his desk. A message comes up on his screen reading
SYSTEM LOCKDOWN
RED 5 PROCESS INITIATED
A stream of numbers and letters scrolls underneath.
The technician moves his headset microphone closer to his mouth, "Governor to the Control Room."
Red warning lights start to flash around the facility, a siren begins to blare and an automated voice starts making announcements from loudspeakers.
"Lockdown in progress. Lockdown in progress." The automated voice said, and all around the complex the external guards – the ones with the coats and hats – run along the corridors and head outside. "Please proceed to designated Red stations. Please proceed to designated Red stations."
Sherrinford...
Two of the guards run round a headland and see Vince and Ben sitting on the sand back to back. Rope is lashed around them, tying them together, and their wrists are bound. Vince looks towards the approaching men and rolls his eyes, sinking his head back. On a metal bridge above them, more guards run into position and aim their rifles down at the seamen. As more men run onto the sand and aim their rifles at the two of them, Ben raises his bound hands in front of him.
"No, hold it! Wait, wait, wait, wait!" Ben said, worried.
One of the guards on the bridge calls out to those below Ben.
"Oi! In the sand!" A guard said, angrily.
One of the guards on the beach looks up at him as he gestures beyond the bound sailors.
"In the sand!" The guard yelled.
The guards turn to look and we see what the men on the bridge can see. A small inflatable boat has been dragged up and left nearer the water. In between the boat and the men, drawn in the sand in large letters are the words
TELL MY
SISTER
I'M HERE
Inside the facility the governor of the place hurries out of a lift and into the Control Room.
Control Room...
A phone raised to the governor's ear. Around him the auxiliary staff are rushing around the room while the siren continues to blare.
"I need to speak to Mycroft." The governor said, talking into the phone.
London...
Sir Edwin, now sporting a full beard, is in the back seat of a car.
"He's in hospital. There was an explosion." Sir Edwin said, talking into his phone.
Sherrinford / London...
"Put me through to the hospital." The governor said, talking into his phone.
"He's not conscious. He's severely injured. No-one is even confident he's going to pull through." Sir Edwin said.
"Where's his brother and the President of Earth? Where's Sherlock Holmes and Jared Shay?" The governor asked, talking into his phone as he trots upstairs to the glass room.
"Missing."
"No, they're not. They're here." The governor said, terminating the call and tucks his phone into the inside breast pocket of his jacket as he walks over to the technician, who points at live footage from the beach on one of the screens.
Glass room...
"Sir, we found two more from the boat." The technician said.
The governor looks at the screen. John, who is being filmed by a body camera attached to the jacket of one of the guards, is standing with his hands raised while guards aim their rifles at him. Beside him, also with his hands raised, is an elderly man wearing oilskin overalls. He has a large white bushy beard and matching eyebrows and a woolly hat. The camera-wearing guard moves closer and the man speaks in an indignant south-west England accent.
"He stole our boat! Him an' another fella, with guns!" The fisherman yelled.
"Where'd you find them?" The governor asked.
"North side of the island, sir." The guard said, speaking in a northern Irish accent.
The governor peers at the shaky footage, then smiles, "Holding cell, now."
"Right, sir." The irish guard said.
John and the fisherman are ushered away as the automated announcement pitches in again.
"Lockdown in progress." The automated voice said.
Sherrinford...
Not long afterwards, the alarms have stopped. John and the fisherman sit side by side at a table in a small room. The governor walks to the mesh door in front of them and stops. Someone deactivates the lock and the door opens. The governor walks inside. One of the beanie-hatted guards is standing inside the room beside the door, holding his rifle pointed down to the floor in front of him. The fisherman immediately starts talking.
"This is a mistake. I'm the victim 'ere." The fisherman said, standing up and jerks a finger down to John. "This man stole my boat. 'e's a pirate."
"Yeah, I really am." John said.
"Please, sit down." The governor said.
"I-I don't even know who 'e is!" The fisherman said, angrily sitting down.
"He's Doctor John Watson, formerly of the Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers." The governor said, looking down at John. "What are you doing here?"
"It's a hospital. Any work?" John asked.
"It's not a hospital." The governor said, while he is still looking at the people opposite him, he holds out a pass towards the guards. "I want eyes on Eurus Holmes. Go straight to the Special Unit, deploy Green and Yellow Shift on my authority."
"Sir." The guard said, speaking with a northern Irish accent.
Turning around, the guards raises the pass to a camera above the door. The door buzzes and unlocks and the guards goes out and walks away.
The governor sits down on a chair opposite the other two men, "I'm sparing your blushes because we're supposed to be on the same side; and frankly, this is embarrassing."
"Ooh, doing a cavity search?" John asked, nonchalantly.
"The true art of disguise, according to one of your famous friends, is not being looked at." The governor said, turning to the fisherman. "But I am looking at you, aren't I, Mr Holmes?"
The fisherman looks across the table to the governor.
"Yes, you are." The fisherman said, in his southwest accent.
The governor smiles.
"But that is sort of the point ..." John said, looking across to the man beside him. "... isn't it?" The fisherman stands up while John turns to the governor. "See, you should have been looking at the guys you just gave your pass to."
Beside him, the 'fisherman' pulls off his hat with one hand, pulling off the white hair at the same time. With his other hand he pulls off his false nose and moustache, leaving just the white beard in place. Sighing with relief, he lowers his hands to reveal the face of Mycroft. The governor's smile drops as Mycroft grins down at him through his grubby false teeth and raises his eyebrows at him.
Elsewhere in the facility, the guards trots down some stairs and one of them swipes the governor's card through a reader. The nearby doors open and they get into the lift which they have revealed. Turning to face the front we see that this is indeed Sherlock and Jared, with the consulting detective having his hair hidden under the beanie hat and the fanboy having his hood up. The doors close.
Holding cell...
Mycroft has now removed all traces of his disguise and the outer clothing he was wearing, revealing that he kept on his blue trousers, a white shirt and blue waistcoat. He stands in front of a large mirror on the side wall, smoothing down his hair.
"That's the trouble with uniforms and name badges. People stop looking at faces. You'd be better off with clown outfits." Mycroft said, turning around. "At least they'd be satirically relevant."
"Oh, you'll find the real Landers on the north shore, tied up with three others." John said, happily.
"Three others?" The governor asked.
"Mm. Well, it was trial and error." John said, gesturing to his own waist as he speaks. "We had to find the right waistband."
"This is insane! This is unnecessary!" The governor said, angrily.
"No; your security is compromised and we don't know who to trust."
"And that justifies dressing up?"
"Yes it does!" Mycroft said, loudly, angrily turning to face the governor, before speaking angrily again. "It justifies dressing up or any damned thing I say it does. Now, listen to me: for your own physical safety do not speak, do not indulge in any non-verbal signals suggestive of internal thought. If the safety of my sister is compromised; if the security of my sister is compromised; if the incarceration of my sister is compromised – in short, if I find any indication my sister has left this island at any time, I swear to you, you will not."
Mycroft glares at the man, who is standing with his hands behind his back and not moving as instructed. Mycroft tilts his head towards John.
"Say thank you to Doctor Watson." Mycroft said, speaking more calmly.
"Why?" The governor asked.
"He talked me out of Lady Bracknell. This could have been very different." Mycroft said, turning away and puts his right hand to his ear. "Are you and Jared in?"
Lift...
Sherlock is standing next to Jared and puts his own right hand to his ear.
"Just arriving at the Secure Unit. Explain." Sherlock said.
"Door opening." The automated voice said.
Sherrinford...
Sherlock turns to the doors opening behind him and walks along a long corridor with Jared, slouching and rocking his body from side to side as they disguise his normal stride.
"A prison within a prison. Eurus must be allowed the strict minimum of human interaction." Mycroft said, over the earpiece.
"Why?" Sherlock asked, quietly.
"Since you're determined to meet her with Jared, you're about to find out."
Sherlock reaches the far end of the corridor withJared and stops between two white-shirted guards. The sound of music being played on a violin is coming tinnily from a short distance away. The tune is that of the song that Eurus used to sing to him. Whether he recognises this or not is unclear but he maintains his false character.
"Eyes on Eurus Holmes." Sherlock said, speaking with a northern Irish accent and unslings his rifle from his shoulder and hands it to one of the guards. "Governor's orders."
Jared hands his rifle to one of the guards.
Holding cell...
Mycroft has now put on his suit jacket and has walked closer to the governor, "Answer yes or no. Has there ever been – against my express instructions – any attempt at a psychiatric evaluation of Eurus Holmes?"
"Yes." The governor said.
"I presume the tapes are in my office?" Mycroft asked, walking towards the open door.
"Your office?" The governor asked.
"Cast your mind back. It used to be yours." Mycroft said, leaving the cell, with John following.
Special Unit...
Sherlock steps onto a marked area with Jared on the floor a few feet in front of a door. The white lighting above their heads begins to oscillate back and forth as they are being scanned. The violin music continues faintly from where a man is sitting at a nearby set of computer screens but it no longer sounds like Eurus' song.
Another white-shirted guard stands beside the door, "Neither of You 'aven't been down 'ere before, 'ave you? 'Silence of the Lambs', basically."
"You what?" Sherlock asked, still in the Irish accent.
"Keep your distance; stay at least three feet away from the glass an' all that." The guard said.
The lights above Sherlock's head and Jared's head turn green and then back to white. They look across to the man at the screens. He has headphones in his ears.
Sherlock jerks his head toward the guard, "Why the headphones?"
"She doesn't stop playin', sometimes for weeks." The guard said.
Over the seated man's shoulder, Jared sees several camera angles of Eurus. She has long, slightly curly dark hair and is wearing loose white slacks and a loose long-sleeved white top, and she is standing in the middle of a large room which has a white illuminated floor. She is facing a bed and is playing a violin.
"Beautiful." Sherlock said, in reference to the music.
"Classical. One of my mates loves this." Jared said, talking in an Irish accent. "It's her favorite genre of music."
"Kills you in the end." The guard said, looking between Sherlock and Jared.
"Aye. Still beautiful, though." Sherlock said, grabbing Jared's hand.
The door in front of Sherlock and Jared has slid open to reveal a small lift inside. They walk in.
"Door closing." The automated voice said.
The door closes behind Sherlock and Jared and the consulting detective instantly straightens up from his slouch. Sherlock takes off his jacket and drops it to the floor.
Downstairs a little later, the lift door slides open. Sherlock has now removed the rest of the guard's clothing and the hat and is in his normal suit with his hair fluffed into its usual style. Jared removed all of the guard's clothing to be back in his hoodie and jeans.
Cell...
Several feet in front of the lift is a wide wall made up of three floor-to-ceiling glass panels. On each of the panels, about three feet from the floor, a notice has been stencilled onto the glass reading in white letters 'MAINTAIN DISTANCE OF THREE FEET'. On the other side of the glass is a large semi-circular room lined with bare grey panels. Soft white lighting comes from the tops of the panels and a large circular panel of lights in the middle of the ceiling sends green light down into the room. Running down the middle of the room, about eight feet wide, is a rectangular strip of white flooring and the rest of the floor is grey, matching the walls. There is a bed at the far end of the room and to the left near the end is a seat and table fastened to the wall. There is no other furniture. In the middle of the room Eurus stands with her back to the door, playing a Bach-like piece on her violin.
Sherlock steps forward with Jared and the lift door closes behind them. The overhead lighting turns from green to white. Eurus stops playing and stands there unmoving. After a couple of seconds she starts to play again, this time the familiar tune of her song. Sherlock stands silently with Jared, blinking frequently, and briefly flashes back to his young self running through the shallows of the river while Redbeard trots about in the water nearby.
The consulting detective presses his lips together uncomfortably, squeezing Jared's hand, but doesn't move while Eurus continues to play.
Jared closes his eyes to imagine Eurus in her cell in the past, sitting on the floor cross-legged facing the glass, her head slightly lowered.
"Why am I here?" Eurus asked.
"Why do you think you're here?" A man's voice asked, on the recording, very faint.
"No-one ever tells me."