the final problem. - M.H · Y/n story by @Soleggiata

Sherlock Holmes

his voice is barely above a whisper, staring at the high ceiling of the tiny, enclosed space they've been shoved into Mycroft, I do hope you have some contingency for this. A backup plan, a secret weapon, a... he gestures vaguely ...something.

The room was small, white, and utterly featureless. A single door, reinforced steel, sat shut in the far wall. The hum of electricity was the only sound besides their breathing.

John Watson

rubbing his wrists where the cuffs had been We're in a prison. A very, very secure prison. he looks at Mycroft You said this place was impenetrable. That no one could get in.

Mycroft Holmes

he stands by the door, umbrella still clasped in one hand, his face an unreadable mask I said no one could get in, John. I never said anything about us getting out.

Sherlock Holmes

his head snaps up, eyes narrowing What did you do, Mycroft? What did you bring us here for? You said this was a matter of national security. You said—

Mycroft Holmes

interrupts, his voice quiet but cutting I said what I had to say, brother mine. he turns, facing the door The situation is... complicated.

A sharp click. The lights flickered. Then, from hidden speakers, a voice—sweet, melodic, almost childlike—filled the room.

???

Hello, brothers. Hello, John. I've been waiting for you.

John Watson

his hand instinctively goes to where his gun should be Who the hell is that?

Mycroft Holmes

his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly; for the first time, something cracks in his composure Eurus.