The Final Problem (Part 3)

Room / Plane...

The girl is sitting on the floor in the aisle of the plane. The plane jolts constantly, either suffering turbulence or fighting against the automatic pilot. She continues to sound scared and tearful whenever she speaks.

"Yes." The girl said, finding a carton of juice somewhere and occasionally sips from the straw during the conversation.

"Everything's gonna be all right. I just need you to tell me where you are. Outside, is it day or night?" Sherlock asked, over the phone.

The little girl sits up taller and looks towards the windows, "Night."

"That certainly narrows it down to half the planet." Mycroft said, tetchily, folding his arms.

"Be quiet." I said, glaring towards Mycroft before speaking to the little girl. "So, what kind of plane are you on? I've been on lots of planes. I travel with my family and friends."

"Um, I don't know." The girl said, sadly.

"Is the plane big or small?"

"Big."

"Are there a lot of people on the plane?"

The little girl looks along the aisle. She has moved to the rear end of the front section of the plane. In front of her, the majority of the seats contain unconscious adults.

"Lots and lots, but they're all asleep. I can't wake them up." The girl said, frowning.

"Where did you take off from?" Sherlock asked.

"Even the driver's asleep."

"No, I understand; but where did you come from? Where did the plane take off?"

"My nan's."

"And where are you going?"

"Home."

"No, I mean what airport are you ..."

There's a click as Sherlock speaks, and Eurus' image reappears on the screen at the end of the room.

"Enough for now." Eurus said, in a singsong voice before leaning close to the camera, her eyes wide. "Time to play a new game."

Sherlock turns away in frustration.

"Look on the table in front of you." Eurus said, sitting back in her chair.

Sherlock, John, and I are standing either side of the glass table, with me standing next to the consulting detective. Mycroft stands a few feet away with his arms still folded.

"Open the envelope! If you want to speak to the girl again, earn yourself some phone time!" Eurus said, more sternly.

Putting the pistol on the table, Sherlock picks up the envelope.

"This is inhuman; this is insane!" Mycroft yelled.

"Mycroft, we know." John said, firmly, looking at Mycroft.

"So, shut up. And let us solve this case." I said, and Mycroft lowers his eyes, looking exasperated. "There's a case in there. I know there is one."

"You're right, Jared. There's a case inside." Sherlock said, opening the envelope and taking out the contents. "What happened?"

"Six months ago, a man called Evans was murdered; unsolved except by me." Eurus said.

Sherlock starts laying three glossy photographs side by side on the table. As Eurus continues to speak, a bright light comes on at the end of a beam above Sherlock's head. He looks up and sees a hunting rifle resting in a rack which has been attached to the side of the beam.

"He was shot from a distance of three hundred metres with this rifle." Eurus said, while Sherlock stretches up and takes down the gun. "Now, if the police had any brains they'd realise there are three suspects, all brothers. Nathan Garrideb, Alex Garrideb and Howard Garrideb."

Sherlock has been looking towards the screen while she spoke but now looks down at the photos spread out on the table. Each one is of a different man. The first, wearing grey trousers, a blue shirt, a brown corduroy jacket and glasses, is in an outdoor car park and the word 'NATHAN' has been written on the picture; the second man, wearing a dark blue suit, is standing talking on his phone, perhaps in an office environment, and the photo is labelled 'ALEX'; and the third man, wearing a white T-shirt and black jumper with a dark jacket and trousers, is walking near rocky cliffs and his picture is labelled 'HOWARD'. Above the three photos the envelope, laid face-up, has the word 'EVANS' written on it.

"All these photos are up-to-date, but which one pulled the trigger, Sherlock? Which one?" Eurus asked.

"What's this? W-we're supposed to solve this based on what?" John asked, looking towards the screen.

"This. This is all we get." Sherlock said, looking at the photos.

"Please, make use of your friends, Sherlock. I want to see you interact with people that you're close to. Also, you may have to choose which one to keep." Eurus said.

John frowns and glances towards Mycroft and I. Sherlock turns and holds out the rifle in both hands, looking at his brother. I see that it's not a modern rifle and much of it is made of dark wood. A telescopic sight is attached to the top.

"What do you make of it?" Sherlock asked.

"Am I being asked to prove my usefulness?" Mycroft asked.

"Yes, I should think you are."

"I will not be manipulated like this."

"Fine. John?" Sherlock asked, turning to John, offering him the rifle.

Mycroft bites his lip and turns his head away.

"John?" Sherlock asked, more firmly.

John has been looking at Mycroft and I but now turns and takes the rifle.

"Yeah, I think I've seen one of these. It's a buffalo gun." John said, raising the rifle and aims it towards the floor at the other end of the room, looking into the telescopic sight. "I'd say nineteen forties, old-fashioned sight, no crosshairs."

"You're right about the era, John. I lived through the 1940s while working with Torchwood." I said, walking towards the rifle. "I don't know if it's Pennsylvania or Kentucky. I hope that's enough to help, Sherlock."

"It is. Thank you both." Sherlock said, taking back the rifle and looks down at the photos. "Glasses, glasses." He points to the first photograph. "Nathan wears glasses. Evans was shot from three hundred metres."

I closed my eyes to think about Nathan's hands – as evidenced by the corduroy jacket – raising the rifle in front of him and moving his finger towards the trigger.

In the small room, Sherlock raises the rifle and aims it towards the opposite wall as if he's about to fire it.

"Kickback from a gun with this calibre ..." Sherlock said.

I then thought about Nathan holding the rifle to the firing position and pulling the trigger. As it fires, the gun jolts backwards towards his face and the sight smashes into the right lens of his glasses and shatters it.

I opened my eyes to look back at Sherlock who was holding the rifle.

"... would be massive." Sherlock said, lowering the gun and bending down and puts his finger onto the photo of Nathan, tapping it a couple of times. "No cuts, no scarring. Not Nathan, then." He turns the photo over. "Who's next?"

Sherlock moves his fingers across to the next picture.

"Well done, Doctor Watson and the President of Earth. How useful you are." Mycroft said, sarcastically, making John look up at him. "Do you have a suspicion we're being made to compete?"

"No, we're not competing. There's a plane in the air that's gonna crash, so what we're doing is actually trying to save a little girl. Today we have to be soldiers, Mycroft, Jared, soldiers ..." John said, stepping towards Mycroft.

Sherlock, who had been looking at the remaining photographs, lifts his head to watch John.

John's voice, while still fairly low, becomes more firm, "... and that means to hell with what happens to us."

"I'm immortal. I can always come back to life. The two of you, not so much." I said, while Sherlock lowers his head again while John walks away towards the other end of the table. "We need to save a life. A single life. And we have to make it a little girl."

Mycroft raises his eyebrows briefly.

"Doctor Watson, President of Earth, your priorities do you credit." Mycroft said, sounding genuine.

"No, our priorities, my priorities and Jared's priorities just got a woman killed." John said, angrily, turning back to face Mycroft.

"Now, as I understand it, Sherlock, you try to repress your emotions to refine your reasoning. I'd like to see how that works, so, if you don't mind, I'm going to apply some context to your deductions." Eurus said, from the screen.

There's a noise from behind us and we turn to look. Outside the window three men drop into view, each suspended from a rope attached to a harness. The ropes tighten and the men are left dangling in mid-air, each behind one of the three panes of glass.

"Son of a bitch!" I said, seeing the hands of the three men bound in front of us with rope and white scarves are tied around their mouths. "More innocent lives are at stake! Gah!"

Each man has a large card hung around his neck with string. The cards flutter in the wind as the men struggle against their bonds.

"Oh, dear God." Mycroft said, at a loss for words.

"Two of the Garridebs work here as orderlies, so getting the third along really wasn't too difficult." Eurus said, and Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and I walk towards the window, staring out of it. "Once you bring in your verdict, let me know and justice will be done."

I now see that the signs around the struggling men's necks have their names on them.

"Justice?" Sherlock asked.

"What will you do with them?" John asked.

"Early release." Eurus said.

Sherlock's eyes lower towards the water below the men. He turns away from the window.

"You'll drop them into the sea." Sherlock said.

"Sink, or swim." Eurus said.

"They're tied up!" John said, angrily, turning to look at the screen.

"They'll drown!" I yelled, walking towards the screen. "They can't fucking swim while tied up, Eurus!"

"Exactly! Now there is context." Eurus said, while Sherlock lays the rifle on the table and bends to the photos, resting his hands on the glass at either side. "Please, continue with your deductions. I'm now focussing on the difference to your mental capacity a specified consequence can make."

"Why should we bother?" Mycroft asked, angrily, as John glances back to the men outside the window. "What if we're disinclined to play your games, little sister?"

Eurus chuckles, not very humorously, "I have – if you remember – provided you with some motivation."

There's a click on the speaker.

"We're going through the clouds, like cotton wool." The girl said, her voice frightened.

Mycroft clasps his hands behind his head, lowering it in frustration. I looked down at the floor, grabbing the strap of my sling bag.

Sherlock, who had been bent over the table looking closely at the photographs, straightens up and closes his eyes as he speaks, "Oh. That's nice. Try to tell me more about the plane."

"Why won't my mummy wake up?" The girl asked.

The speaker clicks again. The image of water has been pouring down the screen at the end of the room but now Eurus reappears. Sherlock lowers his head and moves his fingers across the photographs on the table.

"So it's got to be one of the other two." Sherlock said, softly, intensely, turning and looking at the men outside the window, before speaking louder. "Now, Howard." He walks closer and stares at the man on the left who has that name card around his neck while speaking at a quickfire rate. "Howard's a lifelong drunk. Pallor of his skin, terminal gin blossoms on his red nose ..." Sherlock looks at the man's face and then lowers his gaze to his hands. "... and – terror notwithstanding – a bad case of the DTs."

I closed my eyes to think about Howard raising the rifle in front of him and cocking it with his thumb. As he moves his finger towards the trigger, his hand is shaking. Howard's face twitches as he tries to squint into the telescopic sight. He fires the rifle and the bullet flies in slow motion towards a man in a white T-shirt – presumably Evans – but misses and goes past his head by quite a distance.

I opened my eyes, still looking down at the floor, with my hand still grabbing the strap of my sling bag.

"There's no way he could have taken that shot from three hundred metres away." Sherlock said, walking across the window to face the man dangling between the other two. "So that leaves us with Alex." He squints at him, before talking in a quickfire rate. "Indentations on the temples suggest he habitually wears glasses. Frown lines suggest a lifetime of peering."

"He's shortsighted, or he was. His recent laser surgery has done the trick." Mycroft said.

"Laser surgery?" Sherlock asked, briefly glancing round to Mycroft.

"Just look at his clothes, Sherlock. Alex has made an effort to look nice." I said, sadly.

Sherlock looks at Alex's suit.

"That's very good." John said, softly.

"Excellent." Sherlock said, softly, intensely. "Suddenly he sees himself in quite a different light now that he's dumped the specs. Even has a spray tan. But he's clearly not used to his new personal grooming ritual." He looks at the man's dirty fingernails, before talking at a quickfire rate. "That can be told by the state of his fingernails and the fact that there's hair growing in his ears." The consulting detective is looking at the left side of the man's head and the tufts of hair coming from his ear. "So it's a superficial job, then." His tone becomes firmer. "But he got his eyes fixed. His hands were steady. He pulled the trigger." Sherlock turns to the screen, pointing back towards Alex. "He killed Evans."

"Are you ready to condemn the prisoner?" Eurus asked.

"Sherlock, we can't do this." Mycroft said, sadly.

"The plane, remember?" Sherlock asked, lowering his hand and turning back towards the window.

"Sherlock? Are you ready?" Eurus asked, more firmly.

Sherlock turns his head a little. John and I turned to look at him.

Sherlock bites his lip for a moment, then speaks softly, "Alex."

"Say it. Condemn him." Eurus said, as John looked grim and turned to look at the man outside the window and I closed my eyes to not look. "Condemn him in the knowledge of what will happen to the man you name."

I opened my eyes again when Sherlock turned to face the window, looking into Alex's face. He pauses for a long moment.

"I condemn Alex Garrideb." Sherlock said, quietly, but determinedly.

Instantly the ropes holding the other two men release and they plunge downwards out of sight. Sherlock, John, Mycroft, and I look shocked.

"Mind the gap." Jim said, his voice, softly, from the speakers.

"Congratulations." Eurus said, and Sherlock closed his eyes briefly, and all four of us turn towards the screen. "You got the right one." As Sherlock walks slowly towards the screen, Eurus tilts her head towards the door to the right of the screen, which starts to slide open. "Now, go through the door."

"You dropped the other two. Why?" John asked, walking towards the screen, his voice quiet but angry.

"Interesting." Eurus said, looking curiously towards the camera.

"WHY?" John asked, furiously, loudly.

"Why kill the innocent instead of the guilty?" I asked, grabbing John's hand. "You could have let them go!"

"Does it really make a difference, killing the innocent instead of the guilty?" Eurus asked, looking down thoughtfully. "Let's see."

Eurus stabs a finger down onto the remote control lying on the desk. John turns to look out of the window just as Alex's rope releases and he plunges downwards.

Jim's voice can be heard and his red-lit face appears on the screen briefly, "The train has left the station!"

"No. That felt pretty much the same." Eurus said, thoughtfully.

Sherlock had been walking towards the open doorway but has turned back and walks to stand behind John and I who are staring towards the window, with the army doctor having his teeth bared, breathing heavily.

"I'm sorry." I said, squeezing John's hand, letting out a lot of tears. "I'm so sorry."

"John. Jared." Sherlock said, softly.

John turns to Sherlock, breathing harshly through his nose. And I turned to look at Sherlock, tears flowing down my face.

"Don't let her distract either of you." Sherlock said.

"Distract us?" John asked, tightly.

"Soldiers today." Sherlock said, firmly.

"Right." I said, letting go of John's hand. "We can't let the little girl die and give up on her."

John looks at Sherlock for a couple of seconds, then straightens to his full height. Captain Watson is back in the room. Sherlock took out a tissue out of his pocket to wipe the tears off my face before glancing across to his brother who still looks disturbed by the whole business, then Sherlock turns and leads us to the door. Mycroft walks slowly, sighing and rubbing one hand tiredly over his forehead.

Sherrinford...

Further along a narrow corridor another door slides open and Sherlock walks through the doorway, holding the pistol in both hands lowered towards the floor while John, Mycroft, and I follow him.

Room / Plane...

We're in a small room with black walls and floor and no window and the room is only dimly lit. Unlike the previous one, there's no red paint on the walls. A wall screen is currently showing only pouring water. In the middle of the room resting on two trestles is a light brown wooden coffin with brass handles and no lid. Light shines down onto it. Sherlock walks across and looks down into the coffin, then raises his head to look for the light source. There's a narrow open chimney in the middle of the ceiling from which daylight is coming. I am looking at the lid of the coffin is propped up against the far wall, its underside facing the room, the speakers click and Eurus' voice is heard.

"One more minute on the phone." Eurus said.

The speakers squeal momentarily and then the little girl's voice comes from them.

"Frightened. I'm really frightened." The girl said.

Sherlock closes his eyes, "It's okay, don't worry."

On the plane, the girl is making her way towards the rear of the section, stepping over the prone flight attendant lying in the aisle.

"I don't have very long with you, so I just need you to tell me what you can see outside the plane." Sherlock said, over the phone.

The little girl turns and looks out of the nearest window. It's still quite dark outside but the view of the ocean suggests that the plane is flying quite low.

"Just the sea. I can see the sea." The girl said, sadly.

"Are there ships on it?" Sherlock asked.

"No ships. I can see lights in the distance."

"Is it a city?"

"I think so."

Sherlock turns and looks at John and I who are standing beside him at the side of the coffin.

Mycroft, standing at the other side, speaks quietly, "She's about to fly over a city in a pilotless plane. We'll have to talk her through it."

"Through what?" John asked, quietly.

"Hello? Are you still there?" The girl asked, over the speakers.

"Still here. Just give us a minute." Sherlock said.

"Getting the plane away from any mainland, any populated areas. It has to crash in the sea." Mycroft said, quietly.

"You're right. I got lucky last time during the 'Bells of Saint John'. I had the Doctor, Clara, and Sayaka there to help avoid a crash landing." I said, looking between Sherlock, John, and Mycroft. "That time, the plane was about to crash into London."

John looks at Mycroft and I as if he can't believe what we're saying.

"What about the girl?" John asked, quietly.

"Well, obviously, Doctor Watson, she's the one who's going to crash it." Mycroft said, firmly, but barely above a whisper.

"No. W-we could help her land it." John said.

"What if we fail? And she crashes into a city. How many people will die due to our negligence?" I asked, clutching the strap of my sling bag.

"How are we gonna get her to do that?"

"I'm afraid we're going to have to give her hope." Mycroft said, looking down towards the coffin for a moment.

"Is there really no-one there that can help you? Have you really, really checked?" Sherlock asked, loudly so that the girl could hear.

"Everyone's asleep. Will you help me?" The girl asked.

"We're going to do everything that we can."

"I'm scared. I'm really scared."

"It's all right. I ..." Sherlock said, stopping, when there's a click on the speakers.

In the governor's office, Eurus can see the room on the screen in front of her and is visible on the screen in that room.

"Now, back to the matter in hand." Eurus said, over the speakers.

In the office, Eurus leans closer to the camera.

"Coffin. Problem: someone is about to die. It will be – as I understand it – a tragedy." Eurus said.

Sherlock walks around to the head of the coffin, rubbing the thumb of his gun hand over his brow as he turns to look at it.

"So many days not lived, so many words unsaid." Eurus said, looking away from the camera with a fake sad expression before looking back to the camera with a more genuine sarcastic look on her face. "Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera."

"Yes, yes, yes, and this – I presume – will be their coffin." Sherlock said, exasperated.

"Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment." Eurus said.

Sherlock has been pacing around but now he turns towards the head of the coffin again and blows out a noisy breath, "Well, allowing for the entirely pointless courtesy of headroom, I'd say this coffin is intended for someone of about five foot four. Makes it more likely to be a woman."

"Not a child?" John asked.

"A child's coffin would be more expensive. This is in the lower price range, although still best available in that bracket." Sherlock said.

"A lonely night on Google!" John yelled, softly.

"This is a practical and informed choice. Balance of probability suggests that this is for an unmarried woman distant from her close relatives. That much is suggested by the economy of choice." Sherlock said.

While Sherlock's speaking, I looked across the room, frowned in the direction of the coffin lid propped up against the wall and walked across to pick it up and turn it to look at the top side.

"Acquainted with the process of death but unsentimental about the necessity of disposal. Also, the lining of the coffin ..." Sherlock said, still concentrating on the coffin itself.

"We could." I said, interrupting Sherlock's deduction. "Or we could just look at the name on the lid of the coffin. You won't like this either."

I turn it towards Sherlock, John, and Mycroft. They walk closer to look at it. When he sees what it says, Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes. His face appears reflected in the brass plate which is attached to the lid.

"It isn't a name. It's a message." I said, causing Sherlock to turn away.

The brass plate comes into focus and it reads

I LOVE YOU

"So, it's for somebody who loves somebody." John said, sadly.

"It's for somebody who loves Sherlock." Mycroft said, looking towards his brother. "This is all about you. Everything here." Sherlock walks slowly back to the coffin and puts his hands on top of it at the head end. "So who loves you? I'm assuming it's not a long list."

Sherlock gazes intensely into the coffin. John walks over to his side while I lean the lid against the wall.

"Irene Adler." John said.

"Don't be ridiculous. Look at the coffin. Unmarried, practical about death, alone." Sherlock said, scoffing.

"It's not Irene. It's someone we're close to. Like, really close to." I said, letting out a sigh.

John's eyes widen a little, "Molly."

"Molly Hooper." Sherlock said.

On the screen, Eurus leans forward, "She's perfectly safe, for the moment."

The screen switches to four images from camera footage of the interior of a home. In the top right-hand corner a countdown clock appears, currently fixed at 03:00.

"Her flat is rigged to explode in approximately three minutes ..." Eurus said, while Sherlock stares at the screen and walks towards it and Mycroft rolls his head back in frustration. "... unless I hear the release code from her lips. I'm calling her on your phone, Sherlock. Make her say it."

"Say what?" John asked.

Sherlock presses his lips together and closes his eyes, lowering his head. Apparently he already knows.

"Obvious, surely?" Eurus asked.

"No." John said, shaking his head.

"Yes." Sherlock said, turning to look at the coffin lid, now leaning against the wall with the top facing us.

John, Mycroft, and I turn to follow Sherlock's gaze and we all focus in on the words on the brass plaque.

"Oh, one important restriction: you're not allowed to mention in any way at all that her life is in danger." Eurus said, as Sherlock turns around again, with the consulting detective pressing his lips together again. "You may not – at any point – suggest that there is any form of crisis. If you do, I will end this session and her life. And Jared, do not give Sherlock any hints during this session or influence it. Are we clear?"

Sherlock and I nod and the multiple tones of a speed dial ringing out can be heard. At the same time the clock on the screen begins its countdown. Jim's voice comes from the speakers.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tick." Jim said, his voice in a loud whisper.

The phone connects and starts ringing out.

In Molly's kitchen, she is standing with her elbows on the front of the sink and her head in her hands. Her phone begins to ring on the worktop behind her and she straightens up to turn and look at it. The Caller I.D. on the phone shows that it reads 'Sherlock'.

In the coffin room, Sherlock shifts his footing and frowns at the screen. In her flat Molly walks slowly across to the work surface. It's clear that she has been crying. Glancing towards the phone lying nearby, she picks up an orange from the chopping board in front of her and starts to cut a slice from it. There is a large tea cup beside the board.

Sherlock frowns as the phone continues to ring, "What's she doing?"

"She's making tea." Mycroft said.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious." I said, and Sherlock looked round to Mycroft.

The countdown reaches 02:39.

"Yes, but why isn't she answering her phone?" Sherlock asked.

"You never answer your phone." John said, while Molly turns and opens a nearby cupboard door.

"Not unless it's Greg giving you an update for a case." I said, as I am holding the strap of my sling bag. "Even so, you prefer to text."

"Yes, but it's me calling." Sherlock said, looking at the screen again.

Taking a jar from the cupboard and closing the door again, Molly looks across to her ringing phone as she starts to take off the lid. The countdown clock reaches 02:27 as her phone goes to voicemail.

"Hi, this is Molly, at the dead centre of town." Molly said, her voice over the speakers.

Sherlock, John, and I all sigh in frustration and Sherlock turns away from the screen. Molly sounds like she's trying to laugh but it comes across more like a tearful gasp.

"Leave a message." Molly said, her voice over the speakers.

The buzzing from a phone suggests that Eurus has terminated the call. Sherlock runs his hand over his mouth.

"Okay, okay. Just one more time." Eurus said, over the speakers.

The speed dial can be heard dialling out. Sherlock draws in a long breath through his nose as Molly's phone starts to ring again. The countdown is at 02:12.

John shuffles on the spot, staring intensely at the screen, speaking quietly, tightly, "Come on, Molly, pick up. Just bloody pick up."

Now squeezing the juice from the slice of orange into the tea cup, Molly looks across to her phone. After a moment, looking exasperated, she dumps the orange down onto the chopping board, picks up a tea towel and wipes her fingers on it and then, sniffing, walks over to the phone. Seeing that the caller is again identified as Sherlock, her hand hesitates momentarily as she reaches for the phone but then she picks it up. She holds it in front of her, looking at the screen

In the coffin room, Sherlock is holding the pistol in both hands and has lowered his forehead onto the top of it. He lifts his head when Molly finally answers.

"Hello, Sherlock. Is this urgent, 'cause I'm not having a good day." Molly said, over the speakers.

"Molly, I just want you to do something very easy for me, and not ask why." Sherlock said, rapidly.

"Oh, God. Is this one of your stupid games?" Molly asked, sighing in exasperation.

"No, it's not a game. I ... need you to help me."

"Look, I'm not at the lab."

"It's not about that."

"Well, quickly, then." Molly said, back at the other end of the worktop and fiddling with the stuff on the counter.

Sherlock blinks rapidly and bites his lips.

"Sherlock? What is it? What do you want?" Molly asked, exasperated.

In her office, Eurus aims the remote control towards the side screens and presses it.

The lights in the coffin room turn red and Jim's face appears on the screen, moving his mouth over-exaggeratedly as he whispers harshly, "Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tick."

"Molly, please, without asking why, just say these words." Sherlock said, as the lights turn white again and presumably the footage of the flat reappears on the screen.

"What words?" Molly asked, smiling a little, apparently intrigued.

"I love you." Sherlock said, clearly.

Molly's smile drops and she takes the phone from her ear.

Sniffing, Molly looks down at the screen and moves her thumb towards it ready to terminate the call, "Leave me alone."

"Molly, no, please, no, don't hang up! Do not hang up!" Sherlock said, loudly, gesturing frantically towards the screen.

"Calmly, Sherlock, or I will finish her right now." Eurus said.

The countdown clock ticks down to 01:08.

Molly has raised the phone to her ear again, "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making fun of me?"

"Please, I swear, you just have to listen to me." Sherlock said, quieter.

"Softer, Sherlock!" Eurus said, angrily.

Sherlock glances towards the speaker, then looks at the screen again.

Sherlock raises his tone to sound a little more friendly, "Molly, this is for a case. It's ... it's a sort of experiment."

"I'm not an experiment, Sherlock." Molly said.

Sherlock's eyes widen in panic, "No, I know you're not an experiment. You're my friend. We're friends. But ... please. Just ... say those words for me."

"Please don't do this. Just ... just ... don't do it." Molly said, her face full of pain.

"It's very important. I can't say why, but I promise you it is." Sherlock said, forcing a smile into his voice.

"I can't say that. I can't ... I can't say that to you."

"Of course you can. Why can't you?" Sherlock asked, still smiling to make his voice sound friendly.

"You know why." Molly said.

"No, I don't know why." Sherlock said, his smile dropping in his puzzlement.

Molly sighs heavily, sniffs and wipes a hand across her nose, "Of course you do."

The lights in the coffin room turn red and the red-hued image of Jim appears on the screen. Sherlock screws up his eyes and lowers his head.

"Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tick-tick-tick ..." Jim said, on the screen.

Eurus presses the remote in her office and the lights turn white again. Sherlock raises his head and closes his eyes again for a brief moment.

"Please, just say it." Sherlock said, blinking rapidly.

"I can't. Not to you." Molly said, with a sigh in her voice.

"Why?"

"Because ..." Molly said, her voice breaking and she looks down. "... because it's true." Her voice becomes an almost silent whisper. "Because ... it's ..." She takes a breath and starts to cry. "... true, Sherlock."

Behind Sherlock, John lowers his head and pinches the bridge of his nose with his fingers. Mycroft's head also drops. I am smiling away, happy that the years of me trying to get Sherlock and Molly together, finally worked. Sherlock stares at the screen wide-eyed.

"It's always been true." Molly said, weeping, her voice dropping to a whisper by the end.

Sherlock's face straightens and he looks at the screen emotionlessly, "Well, if it's true, just say it anyway."

Molly laughs in disbelief and heaves a heavy sigh, "You bastard."

"Say it anyway." Sherlock said, firmly.

Sherlock stares intensely at the screen but his face turns to shock when Molly speaks.

"You say it. Go on. You say it first." Molly said.

Sherlock almost turns to look at John and I for an explanation, but turns back to the screen, frowning, blinking and squinting in confusion.

"What?" Sherlock asked.

"Say it." Molly said, flatly, before speaking more softly. "Say it like you mean it."

Startled, Sherlock looks up towards the nearby camera.

Eurus leans forward in the office, "Final thirty seconds."

The countdown on the screen drops from 00:31 and continues downwards. Mycroft, his head raised again, opens his mouth but can't find the words. He shakes his head and half steps forward, breathing out loudly. Sherlock faces the screen, his eyes closed. He takes a breath, summoning the strength to say the words.

"I-I ..." Sherlock said, slowly, hesitantly.

Molly has her eyes closed against her tears. She brings up her free hand to the side of her face where she's holding the phone. Opening her eyes for a moment, she shuts them again and moves her free hand around to cup the one which is holding the phone to her ear. Sherlock has his head lowered but then raises it.

"I love you." Sherlock said, opening his eyes and looking towards the screen.

Molly sighs softly and smiles a little, bringing the thumb of her top hand round to press it against her mouth. Sherlock stares at the screen.

"I love you." Sherlock said, more softly.

Molly closes her eyes again for a moment and then brings the phone round to look at its screen.

Sherlock looks at the wallscreen anxiously, perhaps worried that Molly's going to hang up, "Molly?"

The countdown reaches 00.13. Molly brings her hand round towards the screen. It looks as if she is about to hang up as she lifts the phone closer to her mouth.

Sherlock steps closer to the screen, his expression frantic, "Molly, please."

Gazing into the distance and holding the phone in both hands, Molly rubs a finger across her mouth. John stares towards the screen in dread. He is trembling slightly. I clutched the stap of my sling bag, not wanting the timeline to change due to my influence. Mycroft takes another step towards the screen, his eyes wide and his mouth open as he breathes heavily.

Molly takes her finger from her mouth and takes in a breath and with her mouth almost touching the phone, she speaks softly, "I love you."

Sherlock gasps and rears back from the screen as the countdown clock beeps several times to signify that it has stopped. John, Mycroft, and I heave out noisy sighs of relief. Sherlock also sighs and buries his head in both hands, bending forward. In her kitchen, Molly closes her eyes. In the coffin room, the countdown stopped at 00:02. One of the cameras in the kitchen shows Molly putting the phone down and raising both hands to her mouth.

Sherlock lifts his head and straightens up, sighing out loudly and looking exhausted.

Mycroft walks towards Sherlock, "Sherlock, however hard that was ..."

"Eurus, I won. I won." Sherlock said, tiredly, looking towards the camera on the wall.

Eurus doesn't say anything.

"Come on, play fair. The girl on the plane: I need to talk to her." Sherlock said, more strongly.

In her office, Eurus looks a little emotional for the first time, though whether she's genuinely feeling any emotion is anyone's guess at this moment.

"I won. I saved Molly Hooper." Sherlock said.

Eurus makes a disparaging sound and reappears on the screen in front of Sherlock.

"Saved her? From what? Oh, do be sensible. There were no explosives in her little house. Why would I be so clumsy? You didn't win. You lost." Eurus said, while Sherlock frowns a little. "Look what you did to her. Look what you did to yourself." Sherlock turns away. "All those complicated little emotions. I lost count. Emotional context, Sherlock. It destroys you every time."

Sherlock walks past the coffin, noisily dropping the pistol down beside it and continuing on towards the lid propped up against the wall. Eurus sits back in her chair.

"Now, please, pull yourself together. I need you at peak efficiency. The next one isn't going to be so easy." Eurus said, as one of the doors slid open causing Mycroft to turn to look at it. "In your own time."

The screen turns to the pouring water. Sherlock picks up the lid and turns and walks towards the coffin while Mycroft, John, and I head for the open door.

"Eurus helped bring Sherlock and Molly together." I said, as Sherlock put the lid into place on top of the coffin while Mycroft, John and I turned to watch him. "It's a lot more sad to see it happen in person."

Sherlock rests his hand on the top and slowly draws his hand across towards him, his eyes lowered as he breathes out what is almost a quiet sob.

"Sherlock?" John asked.

Pulling his hand across the top of the lid, Sherlock turns towards the coffin, lifting his other hand to unbutton his jacket.

"No. No." Sherlock said, and his face starts to twist with rage and he pulls back his right arm and smashes it with all his strength down onto the lid, shattering it.

Sherlock draws back his hand and then slams both fists down onto the lid again and again, then seizes the side of the coffin and lifts the whole thing before smashing it down repeatedly on top of the trestles, disintegrating the box into pieces while he cries out over and over again in rage, grief and frustration. Eventually, he lets out a long anguished scream which echoes upwards into the chimney and up into the air above the prison. The rain has arrived and pours downwards, while lightning flashes and thunder rumbles.

Later, John walks across the room, avoiding all the splintered wood lying around, and bends down to pick up the pistol from the floor. Straightening up, he clears his throat softly and walks across to where Sherlock is sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. His legs are bent up in front of him and his wrists rest on the tops of his knees. His head is lowered and he is staring at the floor in front of him, breathing heavily with a distressed look on his face. Mycroft and I are standing and watching them from just outside the open door and the nearby screen is still showing pouring water. John stops a few paces in front of his friend.

"Look, I know this is difficult and I know you're being tortured, but you have got to keep it together." John said, quietly but firmly.

"This isn't torture; this is vivisection. We're experiencing science from the perspective of lab rats." Sherlock said, not lifting his head, breathing out loudly and raises his head to rest it against the wall behind him and gazes upwards.

Mycroft and I watched nearby, looking concerned with me walking towards Sherlock. Sherlock glances in my direction without turning his head, then swallows and looks up at John and I.

"Soldiers?" Sherlock asked.

"Soldiers." John said, nodding, bending down and holds out his right hand to Sherlock, who takes it with his own right hand.

John pulls Sherlock to his feet. Sherlock buttons his jacket and John blows out a breath as we walk side-by-side to the doorway, John holding out the pistol and Sherlock taking it as we go.

"Not long now." I said, while we reach the doorway the lights turn red and Jim's voice comes over the speakers. "Please hurry up..."

"Tick-tock, tickets please!" Jim yelled, over the speakers.

Room...

This time there's no corridor and the doorway leads directly into another grey-walled room. The lights in both rooms turn white again. Sherlock's eyes flick around the new room. Again there's no window and each of the four walls has a screen against it – although these are on stands – currently showing pouring water. There is nothing else in the room. The floor is mostly grey apart from a large white panel in the centre.

"Hey, sis, don't mean to complain but this one's empty. What happened? Did you run out of ideas?" Sherlock asked.

The screens flicker on and show Eurus still sitting in the governor's office.

"It's not empty, Sherlock. You've still got the gun, haven't you? I told you you'd need it, because only two can play the next game. Just two of you go on from here; your choice." Eurus said, smiling brightly into the camera. "It's make-your-mind-up time. Whose help do you need the most – John and Jared or Mycroft?" Mycroft frowns round at John and I, with the two of us sighing and turning away. "It's an elimination round. You choose one and kill the other. You have to choose family or friends. Mycroft or John Watson and Jared Shay?"

Sherlock turns round to face the others. The lights turn red and Jim appears on the screens, tilting his head from one side to the other as he whispers loudly through his teeth.

"Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick-tick." Jim said, stopping and closing his mouth.

"Eurus, enough!" Mycroft said, angrily.

The lights turn white and Eurus' back.

"Not yet, I think." Eurus said, mildly, smiling. "But nearly. Remember, there's a plane in the sky, and it's not going to land."

Mycroft rubs his hands over his face and then lowers them and steps forward towards Sherlock, "Well?"

"Well, what?" Sherlock asked.

"We're not actually going to discuss this, are we?" Mycroft asked, turning his head towards John and I. "I'm sorry, Doctor Watson and Jared Shay. You're fine men in many respects." He turns back to Sherlock. "Make your goodbyes and shoot them." Mycroft looks at his brother for a couple of seconds, then points towards John and raises his voice. "Shoot them!"

"What?" John asked, walking to Mycroft.

"You're joking." I said, sadly. "You can't shoot us, Sherlock. Not after everything we've been through."

Mycroft glances at John and I for a brief moment and then turns back to his brother, "Shoot Doctor Watson and Jared Shay. There's no question who has to continue from here. It's us; you and me. Whatever lies ahead requires brainpower, Sherlock, not sentiment. Don't prolong his agony; shoot them."

"Do Jared and I get a say in this?" John asked.

"Today, we are soldiers. Soldiers die for their country." Mycroft said, turning to John and Sherlock watches him closely as he continues. "I regret, Doctor Watson, that privilege is now yours and Jared's."

John glares towards Mycroft, his jaw clenched.

"Shit." John said, turning his head to Sherlock. "He's right." Sherlock turns to him as John turns his body round to face him. "He is, in fact, right."

"He's absolutely right. Yes, I have my foreknowledge. And you need that, Sherlock. But you're sentimental over who I am as a person." I said, frowning.

"Make it swift." Mycroft said, looking at John and I but speaking to Sherlock. "No need to prolong their agony. Get it over with ..." He turns his head to his brother. "... and we can get to work."

John shifts on the spot and straightens up, bracing himself. I looked up to the ceiling, straightening myself. Sherlock lowers his head and half-turns away. Mycroft scoffs at the sight, then starts to chuckle sarcastically.

"God!" Mycroft yelled, putting his hands in his trouser pockets, grinning. "I should have expected this." His smile drops. "Pathetic. You always were the slow one ..." Sherlock tilts one eyebrow, not meeting his brother's eyes. "... the idiot. That's why I've always despised you. You shame us all. You shame the family name. Now, for once in your life, do the right thing." He tilts his head towards John and I. "Put these stupid little men out of all our misery." John bites his lips and I looked down at the ground, not looking towards Sherlock. "Shoot them."

"Stop it." Sherlock said, quietly, his head still turned away.

"Look at them. What are they?" Mycroft asked, while John, still facing Sherlock, sighs heavily, his gaze sad and distant as I am clutching the strap of my sling bag while still looking at the consulting detective. "Nothing more than distractions; little scraps of ordinariness for you to impress, to dazzle with your cleverness. You'll find more."

"Please, for God's sake, just stop it." Sherlock said, not looking at Mycroft, his voice low.

"Why?"

"Because, on balance, even your Lady Bracknell was more convincing." Sherlock said, slowly turning towards Mycroft.

Mycroft blinks and lifts his head, looking a little disappointed. Sherlock turns his head towards John but doesn't look at him.

"Ignore everything he just said. He's being kind. He's trying to make it easy for me to kill him." Sherlock said, his voice still low, looking towards John and I but the army doctor and I have already turned our heads to Mycroft.

Mycroft has apparently reached up to smooth his hair a little but now lowers his hand and smiles ruefully at his brother.

"Which is why this is going to be so much harder." Sherlock said, turning to face

Mycroft and raises the gun, pointing it at him. On the screen behind him, Eurus shows a trace of emotion for the first time, her eyes widening and her mouth open a little.

Mycroft smiles at Sherlock, "You said you liked my Lady Bracknell."

"Sherlock. Don't." John said, in a whisper.

"It's not your decision or Jared's decision, Doctor Watson." Mycroft said, turning to look at John.

John looks at Mycroft.

Mycroft turns back to his brother, "Not in the face, though, please. I've promised my brain to the Royal Society."

Behind Sherlock, Eurus leans closer to the camera, looking concerned.

Sherlock closes his eyes for a moment, then opens them again, "Where would you suggest?"

"Well ..." Mycroft said, starting to do up the top button of his shirt. "... I suppose there is a heart somewhere inside me." He looks down and straightens his tie. "I don't imagine it's much of a target but ..."

Sherlock's face is anguished but he smiles a little, and Eurus briefly raises her eyes away from the camera for the first time.

"... why don't we try for that?" Mycroft asked, lowering his hands and looking directly at Sherlock.

John walks to Mycroft's side and holds out a hand towards Sherlock.

"I won't allow this." John said, almost in a whisper, turning his head to Mycroft, who looked at him seriously.

"Same." I said, walking to Mycroft's side and also held out a hand towards Sherlock. "I've known Sherlock for years. And we can't let him kill any of us."

"This is my fault." Mycroft said, turning his eyes to Sherlock. "Moriarty."

"Moriarty?" Sherlock asked.

"Her Christmas treat: five minutes' conversation with Jim Moriarty five years ago."

"What did they discuss?"

"Five minutes' conversation ..." Mycroft said, as Sherlock lowers the pistol a little and his expression suggests he already knows what his brother is going to say. Mycroft pauses, then shrugs. "... unsupervised."

John's mouth opens and he stumbles back a step with me. Mycroft looks down ruefully. As John continues to back away with me, Sherlock sighs softly and raises the pistol again. Mycroft straightens up and looks at him.

"Goodbye, brother mine. No flowers ..." Mycroft said, putting his hands behind his back. "... by request."

Sherlock shifts his finger more firmly onto the trigger of the gun and takes aim.

On the screen behind Sherlock, Eurus speaks breathlessly, her eyes wide, "Jim Moriarty thought you'd make this choice. He was so excited."

The lights in the room turn red and Jim appears on the screen, speaking more softly than previously, "And here we are, at the end of the line. Holmes killing Holmes."

Mycroft shifts uncomfortably on the spot while Sherlock looks at him with a determined gaze. His eyes narrow slightly.

"This is where I get off." Jim said, smiling.

The lights go white and Eurus is back on the screen. Sherlock's gaze is fixed on his brother, his expression grim.

"Five minutes. It took her just five minutes to do all of this to us." Sherlock said, tightly, through almost clenched teeth.

"I wish I could have stopped it." I said, and Sherlock turns his eyes towards John and I, who looks at him more closely. "Stopped all of this from happening."

"I know." Sherlock said, returning his gaze to his brother, then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, pressing his lips together for a moment before lowering the gun and turning away, to speak quietly. "Well, not on my watch."

Mycroft looks startled. John and I turn to face Sherlock, with the army doctor licking his lips.

"What are you doing?" Eurus asked.

"A moment ago, a brave man asked to be remembered." Sherlock said, turning to face John, Mycroft, and I.

Mycroft starts to look alarmed.

"I'm remembering the governor." Sherlock said, holding the pistol in both hands, he lifts the muzzle and presses the end under his chin, before speaking calmly. "Ten ..."

Eurus frowns, "No, no, Sherlock."

John and I looked briefly to Mycroft then back to Sherlock.

"Nine ..." Sherlock said, and Mycroft, John, and I stare at him in horror. "Eight ..."

"You can't!" Eurus said, worried.

"Seven ..."

"You don't know about Redbeard yet." Eurus said, urgently.

Sherlock has lowered his left hand, continuing to hold the muzzle under his chin with the other.

"Six ..." Sherlock said.

"Sherlock!" Eurus said, anxiously.

"Five ..."

"Sherlock, stop that at once!" Eurus said, loudly, panicked.

As Eurus yells at him, a small dart whizzes out of a round hole in the wall and impacts the back of Sherlock's head. He jolts and reaches his left hand round to it.

"Four ..." Sherlock said.

Two more darts shoot out into the back of John's neck and my neck. John and I reached round for it. Sherlock pulls the dart from his own neck.

"Three ..." Sherlock said, more quietly, looking at the dart, still holding the gun under his chin, before speaking weakly. "Two ..."

And Sherlock slowly falls backwards, the pistol falling from his hand. His eyes slowly close as he falls, and when he lands it's as if he has fallen into thick black oil, which rises up around him and envelops him until he disappears from view.