Glass: After the Storm

Another James

The helicopter soared above the choppy water, leaving Sherrinford behind; alone and uninviting on its rocky island. The Holmes' sat quietly strapped in their seats, their ears protected by large headsets – a stark contrast to their formal black attire.

They called it a funeral. But there were no guests, no flowers or comforting hymns. They had stood in a clinical room on a lower level of the prison, listened as a priest gave a short, impersonal sermon, and then they watched as her casket was taken away. Even when Eurus was alive, she hadn't existed; she was a secret, a ghost, nothing but a shell of the daughter and sister from their childhood. So, like a shell, all they could do was throw her back to sea, store her away as a memory and continue with their lives.

"At least she's finally at peace now," said Mr Holmes, resting a hand over his wife's as she gazed out the window.

"I take it you don't believe in hell, then?" said Sherlock bluntly.

"Sherlock!" His mother snapped her head around, her bright blue eyes glaring at him.

"Sorry," he mumbled reluctantly.

The helicopter rode over a wave of turbulence. Everyone gripped their seats until it passed.

"What she did was terrible. Unforgivable," said Mrs Holmes. "But she was a little girl once – our little girl. That's who I'm grieving for, not the monster she became. You'll know exactly how I feel when your own daughter is born." She turned back to the window. "She was just... lost."

"Mm," Mycroft nodded. "For many years, we resided to the fact that she was indeed lost completely. But she took her own life because the thought of Sherlock being dead was too much for her to bear. Makes you wonder..."

"She may have taken her own life, but it was still murder," said Sherlock.

His parents looked at him with frustration and Mycroft rolled his eyes, as if he knew this were coming and had hoped they'd be closer to home when it did.

"Don't you all look at me like that," Sherlock continued. "The whole time we thought the copycat was trying to antagonise me by telling the media I was dead. But really, they knew that the news would find her. They did it to hurt me. To take something from me in the most callous way–"

"But why? Why would anyone want to do such a thing?" said Mr Holmes.

"Because I didn't help them when they needed me. In their eyes, I ruined their life."

"It's preposterous," said Mycroft. "Eurus' death was simply the result of a terrible sequence of events."

"Nothing this person's done so far has been accidental or by chance. So why would this be?"

*

"No suspect contact," said Margaux with a sigh. "Basically, a fancy way of saying I'm useless until you can ship me off on maternity leave."

Will laughed into his laptop, glancing over the screen as Lestrade leaned forward and placed his hands on her desk.

"More like a fancy way of saying you're almost nine months pregnant and we don't want to put you at risk."

"Technicalities," she replied, reaching into a bag of crisps and throwing one in her mouth.

Lestrade rolled his eyes. "Just... sit and eat your bloody crisps, will you."

She chuckled to herself as he walked away, before turning back to Will with a smile.

"So, Roberts will go through his strategy with you before the interrogation," she said. "But we should probably still go over the info on the suspect now so you're fully briefed."