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23. Family ties

The paramedics have placed Cathy on a stretcher and are carrying her into the ambulance. Giulia remembers something and runs to her, with Sherlock following suit.

"Cathy, wait," she calls, slipping her hand into her coat pocket as she reaches the stretcher. "Here," she says, pulling out a creased note. "I thought you should have this. Your sister wrote it before—" she gets choked up and her voice dies in her throat.

Cathy looks up at her and smiles faintly, clutching her hand around the paper. "Thank you."

Giulia bows her head, overwhelmed by emotions. Cathy lifts a hand with great effort and gently caresses her cheek. "Do you have any siblings?"

At that question, Giulia's eyes shimmer for an instant.

"I have a sister. She lives in Italy. We are a bit far away these days."

"Distance doesn't matter. When we were working on the MI6 project, my sister and I were always in different places and could never be together. But we were just one person; I was her, and she was me. And I must live for her too, now." She shoots a glance at the hurrying paramedics and turns towards Giulia for one last word.

"Tell your sister that you love her. You never know how greedy time could get: tell her."

"I will."

Sherlock places a hand on Giulia's shoulder in a clumsy attempt to comfort her and drive her away from the ambulance that pulls away, accompanied by the plaintive wail of its sirens. She gives him a faint smile, then takes the phone out of her pocket and dials a number, rubbing the back of her free hand under her watery eyes.

He understands that someone has picked up when he sees her face light up with pure joy.

"Hey," she says fondly. "It's me. How are you? I just called to hear your voice." She walks away laughing and talking on the phone.

The detective looks at her for a moment, then makes a call himself.

"Good evening, Sherlock." A well-known voice picks up.

"Hello, brother mine. It appears I've just solved the case you wanted to assign to me all along," he replies smugly.

"I heard. You've found and saved an agent of the Secret Service, and kept international relations between Palestine and the UK to a stable level, thus sparing us all the catastrophic possibility of World War III. Yes, I've already been informed. Why are you calling me, then?" Mycroft can't hide the exhaustion in his voice.

"Just to underline that it was extremely unwise of you not to tell me about the twin project."

"I'm the big brother. It's my duty to protect you."

"Oh, shut up," Sherlock snaps back.

"Did you call to complain? Goodbye, brother dear." Mycroft is about to hang up when Sherlock stops him, an unusual trace of urgency tainting his voice.

"Wait, Mycroft."

"Yes?" He asks suspiciously. He can distinctively hear Sherlock take a deep breath on the other side of the line.

"One more thing," he almost whispers.

The elder frowns in confusion. "I'm listening."

Sherlock makes a pause. He wonders why he has always found it so difficult to deal with his brother. They share blood ties, after all. Shouldn't it be enough? Sibling rivalry: is this the only kind of relationship they can have?

He realises his silence is becoming awkward and says, "You aren't the smart one."

"Of course I am. Goodnight, Sherlock."