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Eurus eventually did start speaking again, which was hailed by the Sherrinford doctors as a major therapeutic breakthrough.  They met with her every day after that, and soon enough they all agreed that she was completely reformed and could be released to the care of her family.  

Mummy and Father were delighted, of course, and Mycroft apparently thought it best to go along with the official story.  Sherlock, for his part, had his doubts about the sincerity of his sister's rehabilitation, but he decided to keep them to himself.  It would only worry John, and anyway, with Moriarty definitely dead and Mycroft on his best behavior, Sherlock had recently found himself without an arch-nemesis, which was a sad state of affairs for the world's only consulting detective.  Eurus might at least liven things up a bit. 

The only problem was, Eurus wasn't being very lively at all.  She had moved into 221b a week ago, but seemed a bit intimidated by the idea of navigating the world without the protection of a false persona.  Instead, she mostly lay around the flat in her pyjamas, flicking idly through the television channels and ordering delivery in a variety of funny voices. Sherlock had had enough.  

"Could you at least change your clothes?  You've been wearing that for days now."

"I have not," declared Eurus, insulted.  "I change my clothes every morning.  It's just that they all look the same."

"Yes, institutional white doesn't really suit you.  I think it's time to branch out."

"I suppose I could borrow your shirts and trousers..." she offered.

"Not what I had in mind. Here," said Sherlock, pulling out his bank card.  "Take this and go shopping."

"Where?  I've spent my life in an institution, I'm not exactly familiar with all the London shops."

Sherlock paced the sitting room with his hands pressed to his lips in prayer-form, considering.  "Where did you get your clothes for your alternate identities, back when you were seducing John and pretending to be my client?"

"Oh, that.  I strangled people."

Sherlock stopped his pacing and turned to his sister.  "Really?  Did you kill them?"

"Well, I didn't bother checking for a pulse, but I presume so."

He cast her a sidelong look and resumed pacing.  "You must really hate shopping."

"Maybe if I didn't have to do it alone...  " Eurus suggested.  "You could come with me.  Or we could visit your tailor."

Sherlock scoffed.  "I don't know anything about women's clothes, and neither does my tailor."

"What about your friend, then?  Molly Hooper."

"Molly?  The one whose house you broke into, placed cameras everywhere, and emotionally tortured?"

Eurus flicked her hair over one shoulder.  "Is she still upset about that? People can be so petty."

"Anyway, I absolutely forbid you to go shopping with Molly Hooper."

"Why?  She has lots of cute clothes.  I noticed when I was surveilling her."

Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disgust at the word 'cute'.  "Molly Hooper is a dear friend and a lovely woman, but you, Eurus, are a Holmes, and we must have standards.  I will not have a member of my family dressing like...  like that."  He gave a shudder and pulled out his phone.  "I have a different idea in mind," he said, dialing.  "Though I had hoped this could be avoided.  It's going to upset an extremely delicate balance, and I really hate when she's one up on me."

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The Woman turned out to be hiding out in Jakarta for some reason, but two days later she swept into the sitting room of 221b in a navy blue sheath and matching fur capelet.  John was sitting in his chair braiding Rosie's hair, while Eurus helped Sherlock tie up the loose ends from a unexpectedly intriguing counterfeiting case. Eurus looked up immediately and Sherlock could see from his sister's expression that she had registered Miss Adler's suitability as a shopping companion.

"You must be the patient," said the Woman, pulling Eurus from her chair and looking her over with an appraising eye.  "Not bad, not bad at all.  We'll have to burn this smock, of course, but there's a good figure, excellent posture.  I can work with this."

"I appreciate the favor," said Sherlock, "but you really didn't need to come such a long way for this."

Miss Adler's blood red lips spread into a smile.  "Oh, I wanted to, believe me.  I've felt like such an idiot ever since I heard your request."

"Why's that?"

"What's the first question every lesbian should ask when she meets a man who unexpectedly arouses her interest?"

Sherlock stared at her blankly.

"Oh, I know this," said John as he fiddled with his daughter's barrette. "'Do you have a sister?'"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and John shrugged.  "Harry used to ask all my rugby mates."

"A Holmes sister!" Irene exclaimed, clasping her hands together in devilish glee. "It's Christmas and my birthday all wrapped into one. Where have they been keeping you locked away all this time?"

Eurus hesitated.  "It's a long story."

The Woman raised her eyebrows.  

"It'd probably just bore you," said John.  "Unless you're desperately curious what really happened to Sherlock's beloved childhood dog."

"Oh dear, that does sound dreadfully dull.  Let's skip it."  The Woman slid an arm around Eurus's waist and tugged her close.  "Come, darling.  I'm thinking Balenciaga is your look—something with a bit of drama.  But first we need to address these split ends.  What do you think?  Are you up for a cut and color?"

Eurus's eyes shined with excitement.  "It sounds wonderful."

"Perfect.  I have a car waiting outside," said the Woman, guiding her toward the door.  

"Miss Adler," said Sherlock, pulling her back as Eurus set off down the stairs.  "Are you sure you're all right with this?"

"I'm delighted!  We're going to have ever so much fun."

She grinned wickedly and followed Eurus out.

"Well," said John, standing up with Rosie in his arms. "That's going to be weird."

"Indeed."

"Do you think you should warn her?  About what happened to your sister's last sexual partner?"

"Oh, she knows.  I think it was part of the appeal, to be honest.  Miss Adler does love a challenge."