A Sign Of Two

20 - The Final Problem

After the third room, Eurus had set up a number of torturous games for us to play along to. Sherlock described them as vivisection, and he was right.

I was forced to watch as Sherlock had to make the agonizing decision between shooting John or Mycroft. The look in his eyes when his sister told him he was going to have to murder either his brother or his best friend.
In the end, Sherlock chose neither, and brought the gun up to his chin with the intention of taking his own life.

He would have died if Eurus didn't intervene. I knew that after that, nothing was ever going to be the same.

It was utterly horrifying and the events that occurred at Sherrinford that day still haunt my dreams. It turned out the 'little girl on the plane' was Eurus all along, a perfect metaphor to describe how Eurus was being tormented inside her own head. Even though she had committed atrocities to me and my loved ones, and possibly ruined my mental state indefinitely, I felt nothing but pity for her.

John, Mycroft, Sherlock and I all made it out alive and relatively unharmed, apart from our mental injuries, so that was something.

A helicopter escorted the three of us back to London, and then we all got a cab back to Baker Street. 

The entire cab journey was spent in complete silence, but it was nothing more than what I was expecting, we'd all been through so much, and we all had a lot to think about, especially Sherlock. 

I could feel my heart thumping faster inside my chest as soon as I was standing in the living room. Everything was exactly how we'd left it. Used coffee cups still on the table, clutter from Sherlock's experiments still in the fridge, even the lid to John's laptop was still open. 

24 hours ago, I was beginning to come to terms with the thought that I might not ever be able to see our beloved flat again, but there I was. Surprisingly though, I didn't feel happy or excited, I just felt...odd. Something was wrong.

I shrugged it off and turned to Sherlock and John, who had both remained eerily silent the whole time. 

"I'm gonna go straight to bed" I sighed. "Goodnight"

Sherlock's hand twitched and he looked up at me, opening his mouth slightly as if he was going to say something. I looked at my boyfriend in anticipation, waiting for him to say what he wanted to say, but he simply looked back down at the ground and shook his head.

"Goodnight, Eliza" he replied.

This just made me feel even worse than I already did, but I didn't have the energy to question the detective about it, so I wandered into mine and Sherlock's room, stripped off into a baggy T-shirt and shorts and crawled into bed. 

I reveled in the warmth of the duvet, moving my legs around for no particular reason other than to be able to enjoy what it felt like to relax again. 

I lay there for what seemed like hours, closing my eyes a few times and almost drifting off, but each time I failed to fall asleep completely. I was so tired, but something was keeping me up, and I couldn't put my finger on what it was. 

I sighed and reached for my phone on the table beside me, I pressed the lock button and the screen lit up with bright light, making me wince at first. 

When I managed to focus on the screen, I saw that it was 3am.

"3 in the morning?" I whispered to myself. "Then why hasn't Sherlock-"

I stared at the empty space next to me, where Sherlock should have been. I felt a nervous feeling in my stomach as I wondered why he had chosen not to sleep in his own room that night. Did he just want some alone time? Or was it because of me?