Chapter Text
Mycroft saw both Sherlock and John go down, first in fear, added to the one born of watching his brother about to kill himself, then in relief, for he won't be able to. He might as well be in shock, waiting for his conscience take its leave so he goes down from a shot that never came. Too many feelings at once and when did his breathing get so short?
He heard Eurus talking over the pounding in his ears, saying something addressed to him, all the while a shock travelling his limbs like electricity. The fear he was feeling was combat though he had to recover, for his and his brother's own sake. He did, partly. Then his mind scribbled there his brother's faithful companion's sake, too. With a semi-addled brain he set out weighing his options, any possible scenario Eurus might have in her mind as to why severe him from the bodies lying midst. It’s hard to imagine a feasible outcome given the circumstances. He needed data. Quality data to see through and to at least be close to Eurus' plans. Thereof he gathered his mind enough to really focus on Eurus, not only her words but her voice, her stance and, of course, her eyes. It had long past its effect and she was her perfectly schooled self again, talking in her sure cold tone, but still lingered enough in the past for him to catch. There, an uneasy fear, not like the one Mycroft felt but like the one a very skilled marksmen might feel if he were to miss one second in a very vicious fight. To parallel, this fight being the Game and this missed second being Sherlock's thought process leading self sacrifice.
She hadn't expected this, whatever this might be, say Sherlock's sentiment, to make him literally- no, no. Stupid. Of course he was going to. Sherlock is and always going to sacrifice himself for the ones he loves. It's been the same before and will be the same again. As for the current situation, where, he’d been posing as a lab rat, articulating a good enough plan wasn't his to opt, then he were to sacrifice himself, in every sense of the word, if it would solve the case. So, how is it that she did not see this coming. All this "game" they were playing was already because Eurus was measuring Sherlock. That one was blatantly obvious. She knew him as the hearted child he was. She certainly got enough notices on all the things he did for John and John and all his other friends, whether it be by his own or Dr. Watson's good advices on relationships, but she most definitely knew every detail of his and John's friendship. And also most definitely The Reichenbach scenario. So, again Mycroft asked himself; how? Then cut Eurus mid-sentence, or possibly not even mid-sentence knowing her power over words, and asked her quite flatly but effectively, "How?"
She took a moment, six seconds to be exact, to answer which was not an answer but another question, slowly drawn, "Which how?" and if he had any intention of huffing it would be cancelled immediately to speak up for he saw her start a careful sentence, "How is it that you did not see this coming?" No need to elaborate, not because his breath was rough on his words but because she had the exact same thought even before Mycroft that she tried to disguise it by attracting complexes, summarising the Game till the moment and asking rhetorical questions to him. It was hard to imagine a feasible outcome of the inputs given the circumstances. He knew her mind just enough to not let himself be pulled and pushed. He just needed a bit more data and to achieve he had to be careful.
Really, very careful.
“Well I did prepare some water and ibuprofen since you were bond to get excited though I hadn't thought you could manage this muc-” Melding the elephant in the room was never her hors d'oeuvres. She was definitely at a loss and to make its use he could as well cut her again, “Shut it! Spit the facts and find the deficit. What did you miss?” He’d always liked his commanding tone over peasants but this was something else. “What did you miss?” he hissed again just to get the most out of it. Eurus letting him watch her features on big screen, not to mention QHD, could have been intentionally if it wasn't the tiny spasm of her irises as if in focus practice, the little twitch under her eyes and oh, really the shallow wetness on dry skin in the corner of her lower lip. Maybe it was intentionally. He was aware he can be seen observing her though that appeared unimportant on her side because with an, for a lack of a better word, assertively spiritless breath, “Why don't you lead in the subject?”
“What?” The look he had on must be the most ridiculous expression he’d ever wore in all his life. He couldn't actually offer her some constructive criticism, now, could he? If Eurus wasn't Eurus but someone else, Mycroft wouldn’t mind. But that was Eurus and this was wrong. She just confessed she couldn't find the amiss in the context, which to anyone could have been a biased victory. How silly of them it would be.
“You heard me perfectly. You shut it and focus so you can at least be of help since I can't understand the context, though I don't see the need but it looks like an important business to you. Therefore, you tell me. What is it that I can't see that makes you, shall we say, distort?”
Mycroft still had to wonder, calculate how much of her drama was carefully orchestrated and how much was natural. “It’s not you don't see the need. It's because you don't see the need. Please, don’t make me grimace more than already,” he pled, with little effect, “people won't take me seriously if I have more lines on my face.”
A tilt of her head, “Hm. You can always try detox.”
“I did. Turns out am too old,” he aimed for a non-genuine tone but came out strangled. He was getting old.
Score one for understanding of emotional contexts, “Don't I know.” Ugh, this conversation was getting tedious. On both parties, “I spent all my time locked-“
“Which apparently was not.” He was getting the hang of this lately, cutting her words. A cake to celebrate wouldn't be much. A later time, of course. Now, his too clever sister, who was smirking at the moment, was in need of leadership.
“-was alone, being busy with nothing but intellectual mentations for quality time. You gave me the perfect laboratory for the job.”
“I gather ‘The Job’ being understanding the chaotic nature of interpersonal relationships which are weary to clarity of thought.”
“Can a relationship be intrapersonal?”
Mycroft, in response, cocked an interested eyebrow, without resisting the touch of disgust, “Who knows what people are capable of?”
“They’re capable of little else, you know better.” Her flat tone made her words shady with ditto abhorrence. “To understand the humans is to understand the matter. To understand said matter is to be an impartial observer.”
“Design a hellhound and release it over us. It'd be much less effort,” he muttered boredly. Focus, Mycroft. Data! “This dialogue is nothing but helpful. Evidently I see your steps. Tell me the relevant. Tell me why you couldn't see this,” he waved a hand over the sleepers, “and let's state, so we might just fill the Achilles heel, hm?”
“He was right.”
“Who was, Eurus?”
“Jim Moriarty. It was still 'Holmes killing Holmes', in the end.” She smiled, he distorted.
No matter how drastic, he was to keep on pushing, larning. “Yes, wonder how did he calculate this, though? Tell me what was it you two conversed about.”
“I don't recall much. It was vaporous.”
“Eurus.” he stressed.
“There was a glass panel back then.” she riposted.
“You arranged an exchange of his men, I surmise? For the island.” he continued.
“He even got me a better nurse.”
“What else?”
“Insurance of quality rosin from a better manufacturer then the ones you provided me.” Here, it was blazingly conspicuous she made sure he understood her great annoyance regarding sweatbox services.
“Yes, well, sorry about that. But back to the subject,” and with a cooling breath, because no perversions granted, “tally what you know on Sherlock's emotions. Because, believe me, you might very well be wrong.”
Her brows were playing funny, as if contemplating to understand how is it that she can’t understand. He could see it wasn't that she didn't know of Sherlock's emotions. She knew Sherlock perfectly, knew him better then Sherlock knew himself even. Except, it wasn't only Sherlock's Emotions anymore. It has come as far as to Human Emotions, now. Sherlock was standing on a thin thin line between Sherlock Emotions and Human Emotions, making him veiled in secrecy and this was what she was so annoyed about. Sherlock being involuntarily esoteric, owed to his resurfaced Redbeard-like Emotions which again thanks to Dr. Watson.
Right, so much for first capitals.
Mycroft knew that much but needed her to say those out loud. Hint at a bit, at least, of the limiting curve of her mind regarding augend of Emotions. Just so he could get some nugget of information for his files.
And he has always been somewhat interested in Eurus' accusations of him being simpleton. It was so much like acting the fool so you get to learn more than you already know. Ergo, he shouldn't have been surprised to get that buck fever when she answered him, “Funny you can be so daft."
He shouldn't have been, but he did anyway. Because how could he not? Hearing her prolong that near-insult with yet again another grey toned clause, he was bound to.
~TBC~