Y/n Holmes

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Sherlock eyes Y/n with a slight smile then walks over to Mycroft.

I would say this is going quite well, wouldn't you?

In Eudoria's bedroom, Sherlock and Mycroft look around.

"Her bed hasn't been made." Mycroft tells Sherlock walking around.

"Hmm. Chrysanthemums." Sherlock touches the flowers.

"Clothes haven't been put away."

"And laurustinus, and Queen Anne's lace." Sherlock says quietly to himself.

"Enough with the bally flowers, Sherlock."

Sherlock moves from the flowers and walks towards Mycroft. Mycroft looks through papers on their mothers desk.

"Huh. But it wasn't foul play." Sherlock says to Mycroft looking at her paintings.

"How? Are you certain?"

"Her regular supply of drawing pencils has dwindled to nothing. She clearly has decided not to replace them, and you rarely find kidnapped victims have planned for their own disappearance. She wasn't returning. And yet, she disguised her intentions, perfectly." Sherlock tells Mycroft picking up Eudoria's high heel, and touching the bottom of it, and touching ash from a fireplace. 

"That's good news, is it not?" 

"Depends if you're relying on her coming back."

Y/n walks towards the room and eavesdrops. 

"Hmm."

Mycroft finds a book titled, "The Subjection of Women." 

"Oh good, God. Feminism. Perhaps she was mad, or senile. Though madness, in our family? I would doubt it. Ooh." Mycroft sits on his mother's bed as it creaks, startling him a bit.

"I think i can surmise by the way that she left leaving no clear leads, she still had her full wits about her." Sherlock tells him sniffing a bottle of perfume.

"No madwoman could compile the accounts she sent me over the last ten years. Perfectly clear and orderly, detailing a bathroom.." Mycroft goes on, walking over to a window.

Which, to be clear, does not exist.

"And a water closet."

Likewise.

"And the constantly rising salaries of the footmen, the housemaids, the kitchen maids, the gardeners, the under gardeners!"

You're getting the point. 

"...and for Y/n, a music teacher, a dance instructor, a governess. "

"Y/n, you at least had a governess."

Y/n stands in the doorway staring that both of her brothers. "She wouldn't like you in here. This is her private space."

"Tell me, she at least saw that you had an education? She valued education." Sherlock asks Y/n as Mycroft scoffs.

"She taught me herself. She made me read every book in Ferndall Hall's library. Shakespeare, Locke, and the encyclopedia. And thackeray, and the essays of Mary Wollenscraft. And I did it on my own account. For my own learning. Which, mother said, was the best way to become a young....woman." Y/n tells Sherlock and Mycroft slightly smiling.

"Well, this is what she wanted you to become?" Mycroft asks Y/n staring at her.

"Mycroft." Sherlock stops him.

"What? 

Sherlock slowly looks at Mycroft.

"I don't know what she wanted me to be. She's left me too." Y/n tells Mycroft.