Y/N Hudson grew up in America, daughter to a loving British mother and the leader of a notorious drug cartel in Florida. She grew into a brilliant and yet compassionate young woman with a penchant for solving mysteries. As soon as she could, Y/N esc...
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“You know I could arrest you.” The detective said.
“What for?” The woman took a drag from her cigarette.
“Wearing a dress like that.”
“Would you like me to take it off?” She asked.
“Then I’d really have to press charges.” He said.
“Press away. Isn’t that how they got started?”
“Who?”
“Adam and Eve.”
“Oh, them.” Mycroft mouthed along with the detective’s dialogue as the projector whirred beside him.
“And that turned out okay.” The woman said.
“You think so? I thought it was the beginning of all human misery.” Mycroft took a sip of brandy.
“Now, what was all that about arresting me?”
“Well, maybe not arresting you.” The detective said. “I could just keep you under close watch.”
The projector clicked and the image flickered for a moment.
“Very close?”
“Uh-huh.”
The image flickered again, and another scene appeared in a flash, gone before it could be identified. It flashed again.
“Shame, I was looking forward to putting myself into the hands of the authorities.”
Mycroft turned around, looking at the projector and then back to the screen. He put out his cigarette as the image flickered again and then again.
This time, however, it stayed on the new video. He watched himself on the beach, years and years before. His mother waved at the camera while Sherlock played with a ball, wearing his pirate hat. Mycroft gasped softly, the hint of a smile on his face.
“ I’m back,” flashed across the screen.
The family waved.
“I’m back”
The film melted, spinning out of alignment. The projector stopped whirring. Mycroft stood up, his shadow looming high on the blank screen. He stepped forward and tried to open the door. It was locked. He shook the handle, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Mycroft,” a child’s voice whispered.
He heard footsteps running on the floor above him. The door creaked, opening slowly. Mycroft stepped carefully into the corridor.
The door slammed shut behind him.
Lights flickered on the other end of the corridor before going completely dark. He picked up his umbrella from the stand by his feet, twisted it, and pulled off the canvas to reveal a sword. Mycroft switched on the flashlight on his phone and began walking down the hall.
