"I'm so sorry…she didn't make it."

The Holmes family was gathered in their new living room, which, after two months, still felt cold and unwelcoming compared to the burned one at Musgrave. Uncle Rudi quietly described the circumstances of the fire in which Eurus had perished, watching grimly as Mr. and Mrs. Holmes huddled together on the sofa in pain and horror, whispering her name in broken voices. Little Sherlock stood in a corner, utterly still, face blank and eyes unfocused, seemingly unaware of Rudi's words, his parents' sobs, or for that matter anything else in the world. Thirteen-year-old Mycroft perched at the tip of a tall wooden chair, as still and emotionless as his brother. But where Sherlock appeared insensate, Mycroft was coiled with alertness, staring at Rudi with a predator's eyes.

When Rudi had said everything he could and gotten up to leave, Mycroft waited until he'd closed the front door behind him. Then he glanced around quickly, concluded that nobody in the room would notice his disappearance in their current state, and slipped out after his uncle. He ran to catch up and got to Rudi just as he was about to get in his car.

"Yes, Mycroft?" Rudi asked uncertainly.

"You-liar," Mycroft panted, winded from the unexpected exertion. "You-dirty-rotten-liar. I know she isn't dead."

Rudi's eyes widened in alarm. "Denial is a normal part of the grieving process-"

"Shut up," Mycroft snapped. "I know where you sent her. She's at an island prison named Sherrinford and she's alive and well. I found the papers."

"How did you-" Rudi stopped without finishing the question and surrendered. Of course Mycroft would figure it out. Dealing with the Holmes children had always been like this. His sister's abstract intelligence and his brother-in-law's good common sense had proven a remarkable and frankly toxic combination, three times over. "I lied for a good reason, Mycroft. You must keep this a secret."

"What good reason could there possibly be for-for-" Mycroft gestured furiously at the house behind him, with its living room smothered in grief.

"Tell me, nephew mine," Rudi said softly, "how much did you learn about Sherrinford when you were spying on me? Did you see the names of the other people locked there? Did you read the rules governing what human contact the prisoners may have? Did you find out that most likely none of you will ever be allowed to see her, that every word of correspondence you exchange will be carefully examined and edited, and most of them will be ultimately blocked from reaching their intended recipient even if nothing nefarious can be found? Did you realize exactly how they plan for her to spend the rest of her childhood and the rest of her life? Knowing that she is alive, under such circumstances, will cause your family far more pain than what they are feeling now. It is better that they accept that they have lost her, because they have lost her, alive or dead. It is better that they believe this and move on."

"You are wrong," Mycroft said hotly. "I know everything you said, and it's better than thinking my sister is dead. I'd rather be able to exchange five words with her than none. I'd rather spend my life trying to convince the Governor of Sherrinford to let me see her than think there is nothing to see."

"Then consider this," Rudi said. "Your sister is not harmless merely because she is locked in an island fortress. At five years of age, she is capable of a level of psychological manipulation that ruins almost anyone who comes near her and that even you and I, who understand her best, are only moderately resistant to. It is clear enough what she wishes to do to you, your brother, and your parents with her powers. Already your brother's friend is dead and your whole family would have been burnt to a crisp in your home if it hadn't been for sheer luck. You know if your parents know she is alive, they will do anything to speak to her, no matter the cost. Do you think that is worth the risk? If so, do you think it will still be worth the risk when she is an adult?"

Mycroft stared at Rudi, fists clenched. They stood silently for a long time. Slowly, Mycroft released his fists, lowered his eyes, and sighed.

"No," he whispered. "I can't let her hurt them."

"I'm sorry," Rudi said.

Another long silence. Mycroft seemed to come to some kind of resolve. He looked up again, the fire back in his eyes. "I can't let her hurt them, so I will keep your secret. But, mark my words, I will find a way to speak to her."

"The Governor of Sherrinford won't let you."

"If all else fails, I will become the Governor of Sherrinford."

Rudi smiled for the first time all day-actually, quite possibly for the first time all month. "Oh, nephew mine," he said gently. "You are a very good brother."

"No, I am a horrible brother," Mycroft snapped, and stalked off before Rudi could figure out how to reply.