The Visit
@imyourchristmaspresent
Eurus was playing violin, composing again, in her cell; all her tunes lately were darker, and yet somehow triumphant; even her guards had caught the happy tunes, though they dared not dance a jig where a certain Mycroft Holmes might see on the cameras.
Nonetheless, her afternoon guard entered with her lunch; Eurus turned round and ceased her playing for a moment, just a moment. She shook her hair a bit forward to cover her face from the cameras, to hide the recognition and the smile in her eyes, as James Moriarty walked in, in disguise, carrying her lunch.










