A/N: I really shouldn't be writing a new story now, when I have several to update. However, this plot bunny just grabbed me, and I had to write this before I lost inspiration. That's how most of my stories come about, by the way, and I just throw RL aside to chase after my little bunnies;)

Sherlock, John, and Mycroft entered an empty room. They had just witnessed the senseless demise of the three Garridebs, and were anxiously looking around for the clue to their next task.

"It's empty," Sherlock stated.

"Not as empty as it should be," Eurus stated smugly from the screen. "Mycroft will need to go to the adjoining room."

"Why am I so privileged today, sister mine?" the oldest Holmes asked sarcastically.

"Whether you may consider it a privilege is a matter of opinion. Now, go. The game will start soon."

Mycroft went. The door closed behind him.

"Now, Sherlock, you will pick up those earphones. Through it, you will have a little chat with Big Brother."

"You want me to just talk?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.

"Just talk, brother-to-brother. Oh, and I want to hear him say something specific. You can't tell him to say that, however, or hint that it's at my request. It has to be natural."

"What exactly do you want him to say? And what happens if he doesn't?"

"If he doesn't, well, we shall be down a participant. A pity, just when things were going so well."

"So, if Mycroft doesn't say some magic words, I get killed?" Sherlock frowned in confusion.

"No, Sherlock. The room Mycroft currently occupies is rigged. There will be a small explosion, and no more Mycroft."

The detective pressed his lips firmly together. It wouldn't do to lose his composure at that moment. "The magic words?" he pressed.

"Three little words. Three little words that Mycroft would never say, to anyone."

Sherlock paled. Three little words, it had to be natural, Mycroft would never say... it was clear what Eurus was aiming for.

I love you.

Mycroft would never say that.

Caring is not an advantage.

Mycroft would die.

Everyone dies. The East Wind is coming.

"You will have exactly three minutes before...BOOM. Remember, no hinting, no tricks. I'm smarter than both of you, I will see through it. Try anything funny, and it goes off early."

The detective gulped and nodded. He put the earphones in his ear and spoke softly.

"Mycroft?"

"Brother mine," came the drawling reply that Sherlock had never thought he would be so happy to hear.

"I hope your accommodations are comfortable in there," Sherlock continued, trying to ease his way with humour, while furiously thinking of a solution to his dilemma.

"I won't be complaining. Not when I've had my sister locked into this very same room for decades."

Sherlock bit his lips to prevent a gasp from escaping. So Eurus was intent on revenge. On the other hand, this gave him an opening.

"Mycroft, please tell me the truth now. I don't know if we'll ever speak again. How could you do this to your own sister?"

Eurus was watching him, wide-eyed.

There was a pause on the other end. "I did my duty. I had no choice." The voice was clipped and emotionless.

"Mycroft, please, don't lie to me. I'm asking you one last favor. Tell me, do you love her?"

Sherlock glanced at Eurus anxiously, hoping he hadn't broken her rules. "You may ask that, but you can't ask him directly if he loves you," she said softly.

Sherlock heard heavy breathing through the earpiece. "She's my sister, Sherlock."

The deceive glanced at the clock. One minute left. A monster had grabbed hold of his chest and was squeezing, squeezing all the air out of him. "Of course she is. But what does that mean? I'm your brother, and we don't get along very well, do we?"

"I suppose not."

"Then tell me if you love her."

"I don't do sentiment."

"Idiot," the younger brother wanted to scream. The clock was ticking, and still his brother's heart was encased in ice. "Liar. You were always there for me, Mycroft, even when I despised you for it. You watched out for me, and fulfilled my outrageous requests even when I gave you nothing in return. I pushed you away, again, and again, and yet you always came back for me. You cannot deny that there was sentiment involved. Now, for the last time, DO YOU LOVE HER?"

Twenty seconds remaining.

"Yes."

And then, "You too, Sherlock. I love you, brother mine."