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“Oh, John,” said Mycroft pityingly. “Don’t tell me you actually believed all that nonsense about the secret, tragic, murderous, and hitherto entirely unknown youngest Holmes sister.”“Pardon?”“It was a metaphor. A little ‘joke’ from our friends across the Channel.” Mycroft sighed at John’s continued bewilderment. “Her name wasn’t a coincidence, either.”“Eurus?”“Hardly,” Mycroft sniffed. “Euros: the East Wind, or the economic power of the entire European Union?”“What!?”“They wanted to send me — the British government, that is — a message.” John said, comprehension slowly dawning: “You can’t mean this was really about...”“Brexit,” said Mycroft grimly.