#eurus as a sherlock mirror

[tjlc-hellven]

Headcanon

Eurus was Sherlock before he transitioned

[bridgetoon]

The writers really went 'john being invalided from war, losing sherlock and losing Mary were basically the same to him' with the way the episodes (asip, teh, tld) are structured and how they all mirror each other, except we get to see the very intense fall out of him being invalided and losing Mary and how that affects him, but we don't see the immediate fall out of John coping with Sherlock's death, presumably because it would put the loss of Sherlock on the level of (essentially) losing your life and losing your lover

[buckingham-ashtray]

Hello just a friendly reminder that Eurus used a bomb to make Sherlock say “I love you” to a John mirror and Sherlock also using a bomb to make John “say something nice”.

have a wonderful day xx

[aveline-amelia]

You know how I complain about the lack of emotional resolution in The Final Problem? It's not an issue exclusive to that episode.

In The Great Game, there is an explosion at 221B, when John enters the room expecting to see a hurt or injured Sherlock, but instead, we see Mycroft and Sherlock talk about a case.

Why is this interesting? We know Mycroft went straight there after he heard about the explosion, most likely for reasons other than the case like, idk, to check if his brother is still alive? We are not shown that. If Mycroft showed any concern towards him, it is entirely off screen.

We are shown Mycroft watch Sherlock get tortured and speak to him in bad Serbian (why was the Serbian so bad? Was it supposed to be bad?), mirror the actions of his torturers and refer to his torture as a "holiday."

What are we not shown? Mycroft helping him out of the chains. Arranging for him to get his wounds mended. Any possible show of concern. See a pattern?

The Great Game was mostly from John's pov, so it makes sense there. John wasn't there. Here you have no excuse, as season 3 is mostly Sherlock's pov.

So why did they not show us that? They were afraid of consequences. It's the same reason the Lazarus explanation felt like a retcon and a cop-out to people.

I saw a hypothesis that just as Option 1 was Anderson's fantasy and Option 2 was the fangirl fantasy, Lazarus is Sherlock's fantasy.

In this version, he had the events perfectly in control, Mycroft didn't cause him to get screwed over and it was all intentional and they worked together, John, Mrs H and Lestrade were not in any real danger, Sherlock didn't get as emotional on the roof and didn't cry etc. etc. etc.

You see if Mycroft was to blame for the fall, if he was what truly led to Sherlock's downfall and it wasn't all premeditated, you would have to address that.

Sherlock would be angry with him. He would resent him for something he actually did as opposed to a vague reason we were never given or explained.

You wanted to play with emotional stakes, but you didn't want any relationships to actually evolve.

That's why John's beating of Sherlock is not addressed in The Final Problem even when it would be relevant.

That's why Molly is shown back in 221B at the end when the last time we saw her, Eurus put her friendship with Sherlock in serious jeopardy if not outright kill it.

That's why they wrote Rosie into the show and then did next to nothing with her.

That's why 221B explodes and then is rebuilt in a quick montage at the end of the episode.

That's why Eurus is put back into the very same prison she had no issue mindfucking everyone in and escaping from.

That's why we don't see Sherlock reacting to Mycroft being freed or have them discuss events of Sherrinford.

Because they wanted to put these characters through hell, but not actually have anything change.

[alexjcrowley]

I realised my passion for crossover has just created a multiverse of, I don't fucking know, detectives and supernatural stuff (no, it's NOT superwholock)

So we start by assuming, like some already did, that Q from the Daniel Craig's James Bond movies is the fourth Holmes's siblings. So you get four Holmes: Mycroft, Sherlock, Eurus and Q. But then Q in clearly in a romantic relationship with James Bond.

Now it's undeniable that James Bond has a twin brother, Benoit Blanc, who is the world's most famous detective, and he is married to Philip (Hugh Grant). You can clearly notice from Benoit's...everything (passion for mistery and fasion sense most of all) that he is related to Fred Jones from Scooby Doo, he and Philip are in fact Fred's parents.

To conclude this part of multiverse of hyperfixation, James Bond exists in the same world of a bunch of teenagers with 1970's van and a talking dog. I cannot stress how important it is for me that Sherlock Holmes DOES NOT solve the mustery of why Scooby Doo can talk.

But let's now expand in a different direction.

For some of you who might not be acquainted with the medical drama House MD, it's one of the gayest shows ever made on God's green earth. And, as all the fans know, the REAL finale is House and Wilson running away together after all Wilson's problems suddenly disappeared (I am phrasing it like that because I don't want to spoil it). Now, of course they can't live in America because House can't exactly recover from his own Reichenbach falls, so obviously they have go to London. Like, no questions asked.

And as many have already speculated they are probably the married couple Mrs Hudson's friend was renting an apartment to.

Sherlock-Watson and House-Wilson have a complicated dynamic going on, I just know they suspect of eachothers because there's something wrong with the other couple.

London comes, of course, with all it inhabitants, such as Crowley and Aziraphale (whose supernatural presence could explain Scooby Doo being able to talk???? Maybe he is an ex-infernal hound sent to Shaggy??? Was Shaggy another aborted attempt at an Antichrist?????). I really likes to believe they're House-Wilson and Sherlock-Watson neighbours. And every one of these three couples tries to pretend they're a very normal couple, and not, like, non-human or a Government's resource or technically dead.

But also, you must not forget, London comes with Hob Gadling, the immortal lover of Sandman, who might as well exist in this universe, because why the fuck not, he stole the "meet every x years" idea from Crowley, the goddamn poser. Hob Gadling and Crowley clocked eachothers in a minute and now the two couples have dinners together because "they're the only other supernatural couple in the neighbourhood, we should befriend them!" (said Aziraphale and Hob while Crowley and Morpheus sighed).

ALSO to House MD fans I want to remind you that Wilson got arrested in Louisiana when he met House and there's a popular headcanon going on that Benoit Blanc is from Louisiana so do you think??? Benoit Blanc one day happened to interact with the police department of a city in Louisiana and a policeman was like "hey last week you missed a guy from New Jersey who deadass smashed an ancient mirror in a bar because they were playing a song he didn't like on the jukebox". And Benoit was like (I can't write his dialogues I am so sorry) "Mmhh yeah muhst say thur arh sum jingles I simply cannut grow fund of but by Guhd to,,, smash an ancient mirruh that wuld be bee-YOnd mahself"

And these connections are all canonical in my mind. (There are crossover fanfics between Good Omens and Sandman, and between House and BBC Sherlock, and between Sherlock and the James Bond franchise, and between House and Good Omens- there's a fic I really like with these fandoms- and there's a drawing I also reblogged on Tumblr of Fred presenting Benoit Blanc as his dad).

So, basically, in my head, Sherlock is highly pissed off by Benoit Blanc being considered the best detective in the world though he respects him, Q is Fred Jones's uncle and probably added a lot of cool MI6 features to the mystery machine, Gregory House, notorious atheist, lives in the same universe of angels and demons and the Sandman and pisses off Sherlock Holmes costantly just because they don't like eachothers, Hob Gadling amd Crowley looked at eachothers once and they knew neither of them were humans, Aziraphale and Crowley always stumble in every other characters' shenanigans and once in a while throw a miracle their way and Hugh Grant/Philip makes cupcakes for everyone.

And if you really want me to be precise, Dead Poet Society lore counts for Wilson, but Neil didn't, well, if you saw the movie you know.

And I know they are technically not correlated, but I would love to find a way to connect Dirk Gently, Todd Brotzman and The Rowdy Three in all this.

There's a part 2 to this post here

[anonymousewrites]

A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 4) Chapter Twenty-One

Father Figure! Sherlock Holmes x Teen! Reader

Chapter Twenty-One: Hypnotic Voice

Summary: Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and (Y/N) try being pirates and discover the reality of where Eurus remains.

            (Y/N) crouched with John as the wind and rain pelted them and soaked them to the bone. The boat beneath them bounced across the waves, and Sherlock stood above them. He looked down as the sailors opened the door of the cabin and came out.

            “Who the hell are you?!” cried one.

            “My name’s Sherlock Holmes,” said Sherlock.

            “The detective,” said the other sailor.

            “The pirate,” said Sherlock, grinning.

            John stepped out with his gun and pointed at the sailor.

            They had their ride to Sherrinford.

l

            As they veered off course, Sherrinford called them, and the speaker said, “Golf, whiskey, x-ray, this is a restricted area. Repeat, this is a restricted area. You are off course. Are you receiving? Golf, whiskey, x-ray, you are off course. Are you receiving?”

            “Yeah, receiving you,” said John at the radio. “This is a distress call. Repeat, distress call, we’re in trouble here.”

            “Golf, whiskey, x-ray, what is your situation?” said the Sherrinford representative. “Golf, whiskey, x-ray? Where are you now?”

            “We’re heading for the rocks! We’re gonna hit!” said John.

l

            John and (Y/N) (and Mycroft in disguise) waited on the rocks for the guards to come. The other sailors were already tied up, the message to Eurus was written in the sand, and Sherlock was in his position, so they were just waiting.

            Finally, the guards came, and all three put their hands up.

            “They stole our boat!” said Mycroft gruffly. “Them and another fella, with guns!”

            For a moment, the guards were silent, listening to instructions in their ears. Then, they motioned with their rifles. “Move.”

            They were getting into Sherrinford.

l

            John, (Y/N), and Mycroft sat in a holding cell as the director of Sherrinford walked in to interrogate them.

            “This is a mistake! I’m the victim here!” Mycroft huffed indignantly. “These two stole my boat. They’re pirates.”

            “Yeah, we really are,” said (Y/N) proudly.

            “I don’t even know who they are!” said Mycroft.

            “He’s Dr. John Watson, formerly of the 5th Northumberland Fusiliers,” said the director. “And that is (Y/N) Holmes, formerly known under the names (Y/N) (L/N) and (Y/N) Moriarty.” He glared at both. “What are you doing here?”

            “It’s a hospital. Any work?” said John.

            “I’m highly unstable. Lock me up?” said (Y/N) blandly.

            “I want eyes on Eurus Holmes,” said the director to the guards. “Go straight to the special unit, deploy green and yellow shift on my authority.”

            “Sir,” said the guard, leaving.

            (Y/N) was able to not smile only because they weren’t naturally expressive.

            The director sat down across from the three. “I’m sparing your blushes because we’re supposed to be on the same side, and, frankly, this is embarrassing.”

            “Oh. Doing a cavity search?” John unsuccessfully smothered his smile.

            (Y/N) snickered.

            “The true art of disguise, according to your famous friend, is not being looked at,” said the director. He looked at the “sailor.” “But I am looking at you, aren’t I, Mr. Holmes?”

            “Yes, you are,” said Mycroft.

            “But that is the point, isn’t it?” remarked (Y/N). “Because you didn’t look at who you gave your pass to.”

            Mycroft peeled the beard and fake nose from his face to reveal himself. The director paled, and Mycroft grinned. He then took off the wig and peeled off the overalls. Walking to the one-way mirror, he made sure he was presentable as he spoke.

            “That’s the trouble with uniforms and badges, people stop looking at faces,” said Mycroft. “You’d be better off with clown outfits. At least they’d be satirically irrelevant.”

            “Oh, you’ll find the real landers on the North Shore, tied up with two others,” said John.

            “Two others?” said the director.

            “Well, it was trial and error,” said (Y/N).

            “We had to find the right waistband,” said John.

            “This is insane. This is unnecessary,” said the director.

            “No, your security is compromised, and we don’t know who to trust,” said John.

            “And that justifies dressing up?” scoffed the director.

            “Yes it does,” snapped Mycroft. “It justifies dressing up or any damn thing I say it does. Now, listen to me. For your own physical safety, do not speak. Do not indulge in any nonverbal signal 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!”

            The director swallowed, and (Y/N) smirked in satisfaction.

            “Say thank you to Dr. Watson,” said Mycroft.

            “Why?” said the director.

            “He talked me out of Lady Bracknell. This could have been very different,” said Mycroft.

            “For the record, I was all for it,” said (Y/N) casually.

            Mycroft touched his ear and the earpiece within. “Are you in?”

            “Just arriving at the secure unit,” responded Sherlock to his call. “Explain.”

            “Prison within a prison,” said Mycroft. “Eurus must be allowed the strict minimum of human interaction.”

            “Why?” said Sherlock.

            “Since you’re determined to meet her, you’re about to find out,” said Mycroft. He looked at the director. “Has there ever been, against my express instructions, any attempt at a psychiatric evaluation of Eurus Holmes?”

            “Yes,” said the director, not daring to lie.

            “I presume the tapes are in my office,” said Mycroft.

            “Your office?” said the director.

            “Cast your mind back,” said Mycroft. “It used to be yours.” He strolled out of the holding cell.

            (Y/N) smirked and followed with John beside them. The poor director trailed after them.

l

            Sherlock stepped into the holding cell of Eurus. Glass separated him from her as she played the violin, facing away from him. He wasn’t sure how to act even approaching her. Part of him wished he had either John or (Y/N) with him because they were in so many ways braver than him, but…he didn’t want them to be near Eurus. She had already tried to hurt John, and Sherlock didn’t want her near (Y/N). So he had to face her on his own.

            He stepped forward. Her playing faltered. Sherlock stepped back. The smooth violin music returned. Eurus was aware of his presence.

l

            “Why am I here?” said Eurus in the recording.

            (Y/N), John, Mycroft, and the director sat in Mycroft’s new office watching the video play on the screens in front of them.

            “Why do you think you are here?” said the man in the recording, out of view of the screen but clearly heard.

            “No one ever tells me.” She spoke quite monotone, the same cadence and rhythm in every word, unchanging and almost robotic. “Am I being punished?”

            “Were you bad?” said the interviewer.

            “There’s no such thing as bad,” said Eurus.

            “Well, not good.”

            “Good and bad are fairy tales,” said Eurus. “We have evolved to attach an emotional significance to what is nothing more than the survival of the pack animal. We are conditioned to invest divinity in utility. Good isn’t really good, evil isn’t really wrong, and bottoms aren’t really pretty. You are a prisoner of your own meat.”

            “Why aren’t you?”

            Eurus raised her gaze from the floor, but it was blank, even, empty. “I’m too clever.” She barely blinked. “She smiles at you when you come home. Like a reflex.” The change in conversation was sudden, but Eurus had barely paused.

            “Everyone we sent in there…” The director trailed off. “It’s hard to describe, it’s like she—”

            “Recruited them,” said Mycroft.

            “Smiling is advertising,” said Eurus on screen.

            “Enslaved them,” said the director.

            “She’s been capable of that since she was five,” said Mycroft. “She’s an adult now. I warned you. I ordered you.”

            The director scoffed in an attempt to defend himself. “She’s clinically unique. We had to try.”

            (Y/N)’s eyes went to him as the director shifted.

            “At what cost?” said Mycroft.

            “Happiness is a pop song,” said Eurus. “Sadness is a poem.”

            (Y/N) paused. Does she interpret things in rhythm? A song for a lost dog, a song for happiness, the rhythm of a poem for sadness? It was odd. It was like trying to translate emotions into something tangible, something controllable and understandable.

            “Tell me the worst thing that has happened,” said Mycroft.

            The director swallowed. “She kept suggesting to Dr. Taylor that he should kill his family.”

            “And?” said Mycroft.

            “He said it was like an ear worm, couldn’t get her out of his head,” said the director.

            “And?”

            “He left.”

            “And?”

            “Killed himself.”

            “And?”

            “His family.”

            The horror of it hung in the air, and (Y/N) looked at Eurus on screen. They knew Sherlock was Sherlock, so they doubted she could make him do something like that, but…they still worried about what she could do to him.

            “You’re going to cry,” said Eurus to the interviewer, her expression not changing at all. “It’s okay if you cry.”

            “I don’t need to cry,” said the interviewer, finally speaking again after Eurus spoke for so long.

            “I can help you cry,” said Eurus.

l

            “Play for me,” said Eurus as Sherlock held the Stradivarius in his hands.

            “I need to know how you got out of here,” said Sherlock.

            “You already know. Look at me,” said Eurus. “Look and play.”

            Sherlock began to play.

            “No, not Bach,” said Eurus. “You clearly don’t understand it. Play you.”

            “Me?” said Sherlock.

            “You,” said Eurus. “Or (Y/N). I haven’t had a chance to meet them yet.”

            Sherlock’s brow furrowed, and he shoved that aside. He’d play “himself,” whatever that meant.

l

            “I warned you explicitly,” said Mycroft angrily. “No one was to talk to her alone.”

            “You spoke to her,” said the director almost sulkily.

            “I know what I’m doing,” snapped Mycroft.

            “You even brought her a visitor on Christmas Day,” said the director.

            John and (Y/N) exchanged a look.

            “I took a calculated risk,” said Mycroft.

            “You gave her a Christmas present,” said the director. “Remember her Christmas present?”

            “I am aware of the dangers Eurus poses and equipped to deal with them,” said Mycroft.

            “What dangers?” said John.

            “Eurus doesn’t just talk to people,” said Mycroft. “She reprograms them. Anyone who spends time with her is automatically compromised.”

            The director rubbed a hand over his mouth, and (Y/N) blinked. They looked back at the screen, and their brow furrowed.

            “I’m only trying to help you. We can help each other,” said Eurus to the interviewer.

            Help each other? Like someone could get her out? (Y/N) cocked their head, and John watched them.

            “Helping someone is the best way you can help yourself,” said Eurus.

            “I don’t trust you.” The voice was a bit louder, and (Y/N) narrowed their eyes.

            They lifted their hand to their earpiece. “Dad, Vatican Cameos.” A warning.

            “In a minute,” said Sherlock, switching off his earpiece.

            (Y/N)’s hand twitched. Eurus was getting into Sherlock’s head in some way, even if not controlling him.

            “It’s obvious when it started,” said the director stubbornly. “Well, she was never the same after that Christmas. It’s as if you woke her up.”

            “That is entirely beside the point,” said Mycroft. “You had your orders and failed to act—”

            “Mycroft, John, listen to the tape,” said (Y/N), turning around. Their gaze was cold as they leveled it at the director.

            “What?” said Mycroft.

     ��      “What is it?” said John.

            “You need to really listen,” said (Y/N).

            “My sister’s methods—”

            “Do it,” snapped (Y/N).

            “You have no idea how I could help,” said Eurus. “Bring me to your wife. I want to meet her.”

            “I don’t need your help,” said the interviewer.

            “I can fix her for you, and then I’ll give you her straight back,” said Eurus. “Good as new. I promise.”

            “That’s all? What you’re proposing is not…it’s not right,” said the interviewer, but the voice didn’t feel that committed to denying Eurus.

            (Y/N) looked at the director. “Everyone who spoke to Eurus was affected. Enslaved was your word.”

            “Yes,” said the director.

            “Every single one?” said (Y/N).

            “(Y/N), this is hardly the time—”

            “Shut up,” said (Y/N), and Mycroft blinked in surprise at their tone, but if Sherlock was in danger, (Y/N) wasn’t messing around.

            “Do you trust your wife?” said Eurus on screen. “Do you trust her?”

            (Y/N) looked at the director and leaned over the table. “Tell me, Director, what is your voice doing on that tape? In that room? With Eurus?”

            “You’ve got to stop saying these things,” said the director’s voice on the recording.

            “And since you’re enslaved, Director—” (Y/N) had no doubts there “—who is really in charge of Eurus Holmes?”

            Mycroft and John’s eyes widened, and they looked at the director. Nervously, the director stood and backed up.

            “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m very sorry.”

            “No!” said John as he pulled out a device.

            The director pushed a button, and the alarm began to blare. Guards with guns ran in, and Mycroft, John, and (Y/N) had to put their hands up. The director tried to look at them, but the coldness in (Y/N)’s gaze made him lower his eyes again.

            Men in yellow uniforms grabbed them by the arms and started escorting them through the halls of the asylum, undoubtedly to some sort of cell. The alarm continued to blare, and the PA system buzzed on. John used the distracting sounds to hit one man and duck away, pulling (Y/N) with him.

            “Red alert, red alert!”

            (Y/N) faltered and stumbled at the voice.

            “Big bouncy red alert!”

            No…!

            “Klingons attacking lower decks.”

            No way.

            “Also, cowboys in black hats! Darth Vader.”

            Not him.

            “Don’t be alarmed, I’m here down, I’m here now.”

            (Y/N) could hear the maniacal grin, and their lungs constricted.

            “Did you miss me? Did you miss me?”

            Thwip! Thwip!

            A gun hit their head, and they collapsed. The last thing they saw was a haunting face on all the screens around them. Moriarty grinned at them.

            “Miss me? Miss me? Miss me?”

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

@roo024

@ohimjustagirlidrathetnotbe

@snowy-violet

[queerholmcs]

no-one asked for this but. have an incredibly niche poll series for my favourite bits from each episode as i rewatch them.

feel free to share additional thoughts in the tags 🫶

[my-head-is-an-animal]

The Sitter

Mycroft Holmes x Bethany Wheeler (OFC)

Story Masterlist

Chapter 18 - Sherrinford

Mycroft knew that if Eurus had escaped Sherrinford then the institution was no longer secure, and they couldn’t simply walk in. They would need to break in by any means necessary. He managed to commandeer a helicopter and found a boat sailing close by. Bethany’s eyes lit up as she made a suggestion, one that had Sherlock and John giggling like children, but if it got them in, then he would do it. For her.

He’d communicated with Sir Edwin, not trusting Lady Smallwood with the task of covering for him. When they called, they would be told that Mycroft was in hospital with little hope of pulling through.

The plan worked perfectly and the three of them were arrested with Sherlock posing as the guard. The Governor put the three of them in the holding cell and predictably sent the guard down to check on Eurus. Sherlock would finally meet his sister again.

‘I’m sparing your blushes because we’re supposed to be on the same side,’ he said sitting down. ‘And frankly, this is embarrassing.’

‘Oh. Doing a cavity search?’ Bethany asked, making John laugh. ‘I don’t think Mycroft would like that to happen to me.’

‘Miss Bethany Colbeck-‘

‘Wheeler. It’s Wheeler.’

‘Wheeler.’ The Governor corrected himself. ‘Mycroft Holmes’s girlfriend-‘

‘Friend.’

‘Not from what I hear. You’ll be upset then, to learn he’s in hospital. Little hope of pulling through.’

‘Right, where I left him then.’ Bethany smiled, confirming that Sir Edwin had in fact covered for them.

‘The true art of disguise, according to your famous friend is not being looked at,’ he moved on. ‘But I am looking at you, aren’t I Mr Holmes?’

‘Yes, you are.’ Mycroft enjoyed his performance as the sailor, but now it was time to bring it to an end.

‘But that is sort of the point, isn’t it?’ John turned to Bethany who smiled. Mycroft stood and began taking his disguise off. ‘See, you should have been looking at the guy you just gave your pass to.’

Mycroft revealed himself and smiled dramatically, making Bethany chuckle, that sound on it’s own made everything worth it. The Governor after getting red in the face, got him a fresh suit and Bethany helped him clean off the crap on his face.

‘That’s the trouble with uniforms and name badges,’ Mycroft said, adjusting his hair in the mirror. ‘People stop looking at faces. You’d be better off with clown outfits, at least they’d be satirically irrelevant.’

‘Oh, you’ll find the real landers on the North shore.’ John cut in. ‘Tied up with two others.’

‘Two others?’ The Governor confirmed.

‘Mm, well it was trial and error, we had to find the right waistband.’

Mycroft disliked what John was implying, but it was true, nonetheless.

‘This is insane. This is unnecessary.’

‘No, your security is compromised, and we don’t know who to trust.’

‘And that justifies dressing up?’

‘Yes, it does!’ Mycroft snapped, turning to face the Governor. ‘It justifies dressing up or any damn thing I say it does! Now, listen to me. For your own physical safety. Do not speak. Do not indulge in any non-verbal signal 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 it, you will not!’ Mycroft felt the rage burning through his body, he had tunnel vision for a moment and could only focus on the Governor. ‘Say thank you to Miss Wheeler.’

‘Why?’

‘She talked me out of Lady Bracknell. This could have been very different.’ Mycroft explained, again making Bethany smile a little. ‘Are you in?’ He touched his earpiece.

‘Just arriving at the secure unit.’ Sherlock confirmed. ‘Explain.’

‘Prison within a prison.’ Mycroft said, placing his arms through his suit jacket that Bethany was kind enough to hold up for him. ‘Eurus must be allowed the strict minimum of human interaction.’

‘Why?’

‘Since you’re determined to meet her, you’re about to find out.’ Mycroft adjusted his suit and turned to Bethany, observing her dark eyes and taking what strength and courage he could from her radiant beauty. ‘Answer yes or no, has there ever been, against my express instructions, any attempt at a psychiatric evaluation of Eurus Holmes?’

‘Yes.’ The Governor answered.

‘I presume the tapes are in my office.’ Mycroft drawled.

‘Your office?’

‘Cast you mind back,’ he said leaving the holding cell. ‘It used to be yours.’

Mycroft led John and Bethany through the facility, keeping Bethany close at all times, he no longer cared for public image, they were in a hostile place and he would protect her at all costs.

They sat in what was the Governor’s office, now Mycroft’s and he played through the tapes of Eurus being evaluated. Bethany sat on the edge of the desk and got to work, she was there to pick on things that Mycroft missed and with the mood he was now in, it was very possible he would miss something important. The Governor just rolled his eyes at her playful nature.

‘You try telling her what to do.’ Mycroft grinned a little. ‘How do you think she got here?’

Mycroft requested silence while he tried to figure out what had happened during Eurus’s evaluation.

‘What is it?’ He asked. Bethany’s expression was off, she knew something but wasn’t saying it. ‘What did you see?’

‘I don’t know.’ She shook her head. ‘Something’s definitely not right though. Give me a moment.’

Mycroft held the silence for a few more minutes, observing the tapes the same way Bethany was, but her expression would change to something more frustrated on occasion. He decided to question the Governor when Bethany came up short, she could see something, but it was on the tip of her tongue, a fly in the ointment and she couldn’t quite grasp it.

‘Everyone we sent in there… it’s hard to describe,’ the Governor explained. ‘It’s like she…’

‘Recruited them.’ Mycroft filled in the blank, earning a quick glance from Bethany, but she still said nothing. John had decided to help her figure out what she was missing.

‘Enslaved them.’

‘She’s been capable of that since she was five. She’s an adult now. I warned you. I ordered you.’

The Governor just scoffed. ‘She’s clinically unique. We had to try.’

‘At what cost?’ Mycroft questioned, wanting to reach out and hold Bethany’s hand as it lay on the desk behind her. ‘What cost?... tell me the worst thing that has happened.’

‘She kept suggesting to Dr Taylor that he should kill his family.’ The Governor admitted. It earned him a look from Bethany, which Mycroft took great care in noticing.

‘And?’

‘He said it was like an ear worm, couldn’t get her out of his head.’

‘And?’

‘He left.’

‘And?’

‘Killed himself.’

‘And?’ Mycroft said in a much harsher tone.

‘His family.’

‘Jesus.’ Bethany breathed, standing up to pace for a moment. ‘Mycroft, I don’t know, I don’t know.’

Mycroft stood up, stopped her by the action alone. ‘Just breathe calmly. Refocus and try again.’

‘What’s she doing?’ The Governor asked curiously.

‘Fixing your mess.’ Mycroft snapped. ‘Bethany, sit down. Take a moment alone and refocus.’ Bethany surprisingly did as he asked. ‘I warned you explicitly.’ He turned his attention back to the Governor. ‘No one was to talk to her alone.’

‘You spoke to her.’

‘I know what I’m doing!’

‘You even brought her a visitor on Christmas Day.’ That got everyone’s attention.

‘I took a calculated risk.’

‘You gave her a Christmas present. Remember her Christmas present.’

‘I am aware of the dangers Eurus poses and equipped to deal with them.’

‘What dangers?’ John suddenly asked.

‘Eurus doesn’t just talk to people.’ Mycroft sighed. ‘She reprograms them. Anyone who spends time with her is automatically compromised.’

Bethany stood up and wandered closer to the screens.

‘I put my trust in you.’ Mycroft went on as John stepped outside for a moment. ‘My implicit trust as Governor of this institute.’

‘It’s obvious when it all started.’ The Governor seemed a little too cocky for Mycroft’s liking. ‘Well, she was never the same after that Christmas. It’s as if you woke her up.’

‘That is entirely beside the point, you had your orders and failed to act-‘

‘Listen to the tape.’ John said as he came back in.

‘It’s you.’ Bethany said, turning around to face them. ‘That’s your voice.’ She said, both she and Dr Watson were looking at the Governor and once again Mycroft was astounded he’d missed such a simple detail.

‘You said everyone that went in there was affected. Enslaved you said.’

‘So, just one question, if that’s your voice, who exactly is running this prison?’ Bethany folded her arms and her no nonsense face was one that even shook Mycroft to the core.

‘I’m sorry.’ The Governor said, standing up and bring out some kind of detonation button.

‘No, no, no.’ John tried to stop him.

‘I’m very sorry.’ The Governor clicked the button and the alarm sounded. Armed guard came in and surrounded the three of them and Mycroft had no idea what to do, they were no longer in control.

They were escorted out of the office and John had tried to make a break for it, but it was no use, he didn’t get very far and Bethany didn’t even try. They were taken down to Eurus’s cell and of course, she was no longer there. All four of them, plus the Governor were left alone.

If you liked this, please consider supporting me ☕ thanks for reading!

[victorianpining]

Is the jump drive in TGG any link to the timeline mirror for the agra jump drive in T6T?

Just curious.

So if I'm understanding the whole mirrored structure thing correctly (and I certainly hope so because I'm leaning into it intensely for the Dracula AU I'm writing), TGG would actually be a mirror to an episode we don't have yet: 5.1.

But this got me thinking of what would happen if you took the show as it stands now and tried to apply the same idea with the hiatus between TRF and TEH serving as the midpoint. That would be very thematically fitting for the story as it currently exists... It's a bit wonky because of TAB, but there is a sort of symmetry to it. If nothing else the two characters coming full circle in the worst way at the end of TFP is really driven home.

So if you did that I suppose TST would be leading the characters away from the Moriarty arc, kind of the opposite of TGG, and the flash drive is their way towards that final plotline of exploring Mary and Eurus to bring John and Sherlock back to the starting point.

[starkraivennemad]

So Much More

Mycroft Holmes sat in absolutely the last place he expected to be late on Christmas Eve.

It was the last he wanted to be on Christmas Day, but he was.

It was the last refuge for those who had nowhere else to go yet could not be to be totally alone.

Especially in late December during the holidays.

“…idiot boy, I’m asking how could you?”

And Mycroft Holmes found himself still there on Boxing Day.

The Diogenes Club.

“Then you should have done better.”

The saving grace of having an office with its own ensuite and change of clothes is that none of other occupants in the Quiet Room were witnesses to the fact he had spent the night there as well. It was chaos anywhere outside of these walls and Mycroft needed a moment’s respite from it all.

He glanced at his blinking phone reminding him of the messages waiting for response. More chaos.

Anthea was on a rare holiday to visit her family in Australia for a couple of weeks. He absolutely did not want her cutting her free time short because of him. She knew something was wrong, but she understood and respected his wishes with the caveat that if he truly needed her, he would call.

“Then he’s very limited.”

Short of political, alien, or biblical Armageddon he had no intention of doing so.

He had left the Quiet Room and responded to her call quickly knowing why she had reached out -Sherlock called told her in worry.

“How dare you say that?”

There were several calls and texts from his brother - none of which Mycroft has answered.

He knew what Sherlock would say.

“You are a monster!”

His brother had been equally aghast at Mummy’s outburst.

Mycroft simply stood and walked out.

He did not call for a driver. He did not even get his coat.

He quietly closed the door, walked to his car, and drove away. 

Mycroft was more than halfway to London before the turmoil in his brain settled enough that he thought to arrange for a car for his brother to return home. He would have to give an apology he knows Sherlock will dismiss in understanding, but he simply could not bear another moment in the emotional chaos around his family.

Anthea had reached out.

Sherlock had reached out several times. At his home. At his offices in Whitechapel and Diogenes.

Their father had reached out.

Mummy had not.

Mycroft was not sure she ever would.

“You are a monster!”

Mycroft had heard as Sherlock got over his initial shock at Mummy’s outburst and ardently began to defend him. He was sure no one noticed he had fled the house at all until they heard the car start up. By the time Sherlock made it to the front door, he was a speck in the rearview mirror.

Sherlock and Mycroft semi-jokingly referred to spending Christmas with their parents from the day before Christmas Eve until midday on Boxing Day, as their Holiday Penance. Mycroft does not know what was said after his departure on Christmas Day. He can barely comprehend that it was just yesterday. He does know, in an unusually petty move, Sherlock had left their parents’ home literally minutes after midnight on Boxing Day, keeping to the letter, if not the spirit, of their annual penance. Though Mycroft knew Sherlock had arrived at Baker Street in the early morning hours, and certainly deduced where he was, that his little brother had not immediately come banging down the door at Diogenes and intentionally caused a ruckus, was an appreciated show of respect. Though Sherlock had called, again, and Mycroft had ignored him, again, Mycroft also knew Sherlock would give him until tomorrow before coming after him personally.

It was an odd reversal of roles - Sherlock checking on him. And Mycroft could not deny the comfort in the knowledge that his little brother would in fact come for him.

Unfortunately, that left him time to sit in the morass of his spiraling emotions.

“You are a monster!”

Doing the correct thing –keeping Eurus in Sherrinford- was not necessarily the right thing –not telling his parents. At first his silence was at his Uncle Rudy’s behest. It seemed sensible enough to his young mind. Everyone seemed happy with the sweet-faced, pig-tailed, pyromaniac elephant out of sight, and in Sherlock’s case, out of mind – literally. And when Rudolph Vernet passed, by his own continuance of the status quo.

And all of them shielding the emotionally distraught Sherlock from the truth of Victor’s murder instead of teaching the young boy to process his grief and anger properly had perhaps been the biggest mistake of all.

“You are a monster!”

Thus, Mycroft sat in the silence of the main room, the Quiet Room, purposely looking at no one. The few other there were carefully avoiding looking at him, not wanting him to see their shock at his presence. Mycroft thanked the Universe for the Quiet Room where none can ask.

He had paced his townhouse.

He had paced his main office at Whitehall.

He had paced in his upstairs office in Diogenes.

No, he had to be in the Quiet Room.

Because Mycroft knew if he were in any other room where he was allowed to be alone, to be without restraint, to be allowed to speak…

He would scream.

Read the rest on AO3

[oxalisvulcanicola]

Sherlock only stopped playing when Mycroft gave up and tried to lose.

I think their different strategies for dealing with the girl on the plane is a mirror of how they approach Eurus. Talk her down or isolate to minimize damage to others.

Better not soldier on

Could I just sort of mention, that Mycroft keeps telling Sherlock and John all along, that this - Eurus’ wicked tasks - are no game.

What is this? We can’t do this. Is this supposed to be a game?

Used to games and used to tricky cases however, Sherlock and John rush on. Obviously annoyed by Mycroft’s refusal to join in.

Sherlock: What do you make of it?

Mycroft: Am I being asked to proof my usefulness?

Sherlock: Yes, I should think you are.

Mycroft: I will not be manipulated like this.

Also, not only does Mycroft anticipate exactly what Eurus has in store for them, he also tries to warn them both.

Well done, Dr. Watson. How useful you are. Do you have a suspicion we’re being made to compete with each other?

Yet Sherlock and John are trying to pull through - as Soldiers. After all they have solved a great many tricky cases. But this one here: each single task should convince them, that they are not going to win. And they might remember for a moment that Eurus would have been perfectly happy with blowing all three of them up just about a day ago.

Nonetheless - nothing of this causes them any uncertainty. They. just. soldier. on.

Eventually the three of them reach the moment to realise that the out of control aircraft is now heading towards a city, and thereby promising to claim even more victims. Again it is Mycroft who points this out, trying to convince Sherlock and John that they need to help the girl steer the plane away from mainland to avoid further casualties.

Cruel as it might seem, Mycroft is right. And John’s reaction, his look and him backing away, are entirely infuriating (to me at least). Even now John and Sherlock think they might solve this case - this final problem.

So we find them, after Sherlock shattered Molly to pieces and still believing that he might be on the winning team, in the elimination game, when finally - FINALLY - Sherlock realizes that he will not win, as long as he plays along.

He decides to go against the rules, putting an end to the game and forcing Eurus’ hand - a hand they had to fear all the time anyway. There was no promise by her of any sort that any of them three was supposed to survive the day. 

So here it takes us to the controversial Chess Photo, that shows Sherlock’s revolt, throwing the pieces towards the observer - which might very likely be Eurus.

After rewatching the episode I find the picture quite misleading.

It was Mycroft who didn’t play by the rules all the while.

No idea what would have happened if Sherlock for once would have listened to what his brother said, instead of telling Mycroft to shut up again and again.

Maybe just sometimes Mycroft DOES know better.

[tjlc-hellven]

I just hope that they don't end up queer-baiting Sherlock as trans.

[bridgetoon]

When they go so out of their way to mirror a study in pink in the lying detective and have it be called out by the way eurus-as-faith is, the way sherlock acts, and then to LITERALLY have it said by Mary, only to have John turn around and go 'yeah I'm not like that, I've never been like that I'm like that because other people want me to be like that I'm actually so much worse' when he was actually literally exactly like that at the beginning of the series for no reason and with no one to prove it to. Bites you bites you so hard you start bleeding

[buckingham-ashtray]

“Now it’s coming.”

“Remember now, Henry. You’ve got to remember what happened here when you were a little boy.”

—— SHERLOCK, The Hounds of Baskerville

“Your funny little memories, Sherlock.”

—— EURUS, The Final Problem

The dog, the lies, the denial;

The childhood trauma, the reoccurring flashbacks, the ‘Better Story’.

It's one thing to compare the parallels between thob and tfp, and another thing to actually align them and play them at the same time.

They overlap each other so well that even the timing is almost in sync. Looking at Henry as a strong Sherlock mirror, with the tfp clip playing in the background this is literally Sherlock forcing himself to remember what happened here at Musgrave when he was a little boy.

The demons beneath the ever ongoing road of We’ve-Been-Warning-You-Of-The-Truth-Ever-Since-The-Very-Start-But-Were-You-Listening. It’s getting real terrifying now.

[leliest]

I have ideas but no writing skills

You've read it. I just more or less accidentally created an o/c which I'd love to write stories about but don't have the guts or skills to do it. And as our fandom includes quite a few talented writers (a "few") I assumed someone else might be short of ideas and like what I've come up with.

How about we make the Holmesian family issues even more confusing by adding a younger cousin to the mix? A witty and deadly sarcastic girl gifted with at least parts of the brains Sherlock's bunch possesses. Though not just as smart as them she's certainly better in the emotional department. Her last name is "Holm" because her parents moved to Germany when she was younger and since the locals kept pronouncing their name incorrectly they eventually changed it to something more German-friendly. Her first name could be something like Ida, or maybe anything equally unusual as Mycroft. With her in the picture, we also have all four of the Anemoi (greek gods) Eurus refers to. She just shows up one day and is instantly annoyed by all the shit going on between Sherlock, John and basically everyone. Did I mention her hero complex? She feels very obligated to fix every issue regarding her cousins. Ida is also convinced that Sherlock and John should've started dating years ago, so she struggles to accept Mary's (luckily rather short) existence. Though she really likes her as a person, just not as John's wife. Certainly a mirror of most Johnlock-shippers. And, like every proper Holmes, she has a knack for the dramatic. Maybe she turns up shortly after Sherlock's death and tries to drop John hints, or she decides to put matters into her own hands and help Sherlock with his return.

Here I'd imagine her with Mycroft and Sherlock in one of the first scenes in Many Happy Returns, the one right before Sherlock crashes John's proposal. I'd like to think she's cheeky enough to convince him not to just run in there and ruin the evening from a safe distance instead. She'd set up the whole thing to somehow destroy John's relationship with Mary, because, as she tells herself, it's not love but the desperate need for normalcy for both of them. And because she's been watching (over) John for the past two years as Sherlock wanted her to she also knows about Mary's past. So she'd have somehow gathered files on all that assassin business and now plans to "present" them to John - on the evening of his proposal. I can certainly see her dressing up as a waiter to spill wine or something on Mary, or even drop the plates, or pull off the tablecloth just to make Morstan leave the table (without John). Maybe she's previously put the assassin files under the menu so she can "get John another" of the soaked menus, which would then, of course, lead to John seeing the files on Mary. In short, Ida would do her very best to ruin the evening and destroy John's trust in Mary. I think she'd even go as far as to talk to a resigned John outside the restaurant afterwards, pretending to be some stranger. Maybe that scene would go something like this:

"Had a rough night?" A slender woman approached the man, curiously eyeing the dark figure on the bench. He just sighed and stared at the bottle of expensive wine in his hands. He had left money for it on the table; if it was enough he didn't know. "Care to talk about it?" He scoffed, still not looking up, "Not really, no." "Talking helps, you know?" He knew. His therapist had told him a million times, she'd talked about how he needed to open up to someone if he wanted to let go, but he didn't want to. Still, right now he felt the sudden urge to talk. Just talk about every little mistake in his life, talk to this random person for no reason at all. He glanced at her shoes, and black leather boots, and decided that a little conversation couldn't hurt. He sighed again and slowly started to talk, every word fighting its way over his lips until it all just came spilling out. "Basically, I lost my best friend to suicide three years ago, fell into a depression, met someone special and fell in love with her, and I decided to propose to her. I was going to, anyway. So I took her out to this fancy restaurant back there", he pointed to a bright building across the street, "but just when we'd arrived a waiter spilt wine on her dress, proceeded to stumble over the table cloth, sending the engaging ring flying in the process, and as if that wasn't enough he accidentally lit the whole thing on fire. She left, the ring's gone and all that waiter left as a 'damage payment' were those random files-", the man gestured towards a stash of paper next to him, "So yeah, it was a bit of a rough night."

She leant against a lantern pole, smiling ever so slightly. It wasn't a friendly smile, though. It was much rather an amused, almost arrogant grin seemingly mocking the situation he'd just described. She noticed that he hadn't even bothered to look at her yet, else he probably wouldn't have been that chatty.

"John Watson, is it?" He glanced up in confusion, his eyes quickly darting from her face to her jacket and her shoes. "Ah, attempt at deductions. Must've gotten that habit from him", she thought, observing each and every of his moves. "Well, yes, but you are...?", he responded slowly, looking up at the unfamiliar face questioningly. Actually, if he thought about it, it didn't seem all that unfamiliar. These cheekbones, and those piercing blue eyes... No, he wouldn't dare to think of that. "Of course. Ida Holm's the name, pleasure to meet you.", a small, undefinable grin tugged at the corner of the black-haired's lips. "Ah... 'Holm', that's German. You don't have an accent, though?" She nodded approvingly, shortly chuckling at the way his drunk self slurred those words. "Long story, but in short my family moved there years ago, and we changed our last name for convenience."

He replied with a small nod, still looking at the strange visitor doubtingly. He was clearly expecting an explanation for that interruption of his 'calm' evening. "Well, that actually brings me right to the point. I'm terribly sorry for disturbing you in your rest, Doctor Watson, but I felt the need to talk to you. We're on the same page, after all.", she shot him an apologetic smile, seemingly not bothering to explain why exactly she knew him just yet. He quirked a brow. "Really? How come?" The tall woman smiled that knowing, almost mocking smile again that he'd started to hate over the past few minutes. It was so strangely familiar, the slightest bit of arrogance mixed with an 'I-know-everything'-look, putting him off and making him feel somewhat content at the same time.

"As you've probably concluded already the name 'Holm' originally comes from the well-known 'Holmes'. I am a distant cousin from your...", she hesitated slightly, "Friend, but unluckily I've lost touch over the past few years. But we always had a very good relationship, so naturally, the message of his... passing shocked me a lot." She was avoiding his gaze, staring at the bottle of wine he still held firmly in his hands. He'd slowly risen to his feet during her short speech, shifting slightly from one leg to the other. She noticed. "Of course, the limp's back"

Watson looked at the female disbelievingly. He'd gotten on with his life (That'd taken him long enough; almost three years in total), had found someone nice and considered himself cured of any Holmes-rubbish out there - and all of a sudden there was this woman standing in front of him, telling him she was a cousin of Sher- him. Said woman seemed to take his silence as an urge to continue her explanation and looked at the concrete beneath her feet before speaking. "Recently, I had a conversation with Mycroft Holmes, I do suppose you know him, and he just so happened to tell me a bit about you. Basically, I then figured that it'd be a good idea to talk to you once; sharing the pain, you know?", she stared at him expectingly, waiting for the smaller man's response. He just gaped at her. What was he supposed to say? "Oh, great, let's grab a coffee and chat a bit"? Instead, he just nodded slowly, sinking back onto the bench. The black-haired was quick to follow, seating herself next to him while staring into the night. 

Now, please excuse my terrible writing, English is not my first language so I'm not really good at that. But this is just an idea of how this could go. I haven't exactly figured out what would happen after that, but if I had then I'd have written a full story already. So do as you please with this, and tell me if you made something out of it!

[the-toad-in-your-piano]

question 24 for the ask meme please :D

Hello, Anon!! Thanks so much for the ask. I was confused at first, honestly- I completely forgot I had ever even seen that ask meme! But I dug it up (hoping it's the right one) and I'm happy to answer :)

24. Are there any easter eggs in [insert fic], and if so, what are they?

I've had a recent influx of folks interacting on Tumblr that came from Our Love Keeps the Things It Finds (hi, new friends!), so I assume that's the fic you're asking about. If it's not, please let me know! This answer got long, so the response is under the cut.

OLK has a couple of easter eggs! I'll be careful with which ones I mention here to avoid spoilers, so don't worry. I had to whip out one of my three OLK spreadsheets for this answer (the soulmate system got more complex than expected). Greg and Mycroft have two tattoos each that are mentioned (or not specifically mentioned; I can't remember with all of them haha) but not covered in-depth in the course of the story. I'll discuss those here!

Mycroft can go first. He has a tattoo of a flock of birds on one shoulder that isn't really talked about in the fic. It appeared the very day Greg's divorce was finalised and symbolises freedom. The way the birds burst up over his shoulder mirrors Greg's happiness at escaping his failed marriage. But there's a reason there are many birds, rather than just one- Greg is no solitary creature. Flocking helps birds avoid predators and have an easier, safer flight. The flock on Mycroft's shoulder represents Greg being free, but also relying on his support system (which is, of course, his friend Mycroft) to support him.

The second tattoo is of a tree on Mycroft's back. It showed up the first time that Greg came to Mycroft's flat, symbolising a place to rest. A place to put down roots that isn't Greg's marital home.

Now for Greg. (Sorry this has gotten long! I tend to get a bit rambly, haha.) His are a bit shorter. The first is a faded night sky on his back. He developed that one when he was quite young. Nighttime was a place of refuge in Mycroft's childhood, as he often played the role of a third parent to Sherlock and Eurus. When he was young, he would climb out onto the roof and stare up into the sky, dreaming of an escape from this world. He doesn't do that anymore, hence the fading, and has developed a stronger attachment to the mortal world. He still loves the sky and stars, though- that will be alluded to in the fic, so I won't get into that.

The last one I'll mention is a tattoo of a cup and saucer on Greg's chest. This one's simple: Mycroft just really loves tea!

Sorry this got so long! I had such fun putting this fic together. I've got a whole folder of deleted scenes and notes from its process. ...and if this was not the fic you were asking about, just let me know! I love a good ramble and am happy to answer for the correct one if you like :)