Chapter Text
Somewhere, deep in seemingly endless woods, Enola found herself wandering futility, trying to find clues as to who could be trying to murder Tewkesbury. As she continued to walk around, she suddenly stopped herself in her tracks when a fallen tree branch came across her path.
“Well uh, a tree branch broke above me while I was collecting wild mushrooms.”
The young lord’s words resonated in Enola’s mind as she began to inspect the fallen branch.
“It should have crushed me.”
Enola stood up and resumed her investigation of her surroundings when she heard a strange noise. One that sounded unusually similar to wind chimes Following said sounds, she found herself beholding a tall treehouse, built using rickety boards that would most surely be unstable.
Pulling herself up the rope, she reached the treehouse and pushed herself through the hatch. Looking down, the girl realised how far up from the ground she was. How lucky Tewkesbury must have been for an escape like this. Many memories of him flashed through her mind, from the train encounter to when she had last bid him farewell.
‘So this is where you laid your plans. Or maybe that’s what you wanted them to think. You were leading them astray.’ Enola thought to herself. Her gaze flitted from maps until she found a location encircled with red. ‘This must be why Bowler hat was there, following your breadcrumb trail. So what was your real plan?’
She opened a book to find a blue flower printing and held it up. A smile spread across her face and she giggled, “Oh you tickle me, Viscount Tewkesbury. You magnificent Marquess of blooming Basilwether. And you’re a cleverer boy than I perhaps gave you credit for.”
“It’s not as stable as you think up there.” The voice startled her and she quickly righted herself on her feet. “Some of those branches are extremely capricious.”
Enola walked to the edge and looked down
“Good morning. I believe we’ve already met, you were dressed differently then.”
“You’d already discovered this, hadn’t you?”
The Dowager nodded, “We found it a few days ago. Would you care to come down?” Enola began to climb back down the rope to greet the older woman, “Did you see anything to report to your ‘employer’?”
“Oh. No. Sherlock. Um, he’ll probably want to come by,” Enola had frozen up at this question before continuing to climb down.
“What did you say your name was?”
“May,” Enola took off her cap and held it to her chest, “May Beatrice Posy.”
“And how old are you, Miss Posy?”
Enola paused for a small moment before answering, “Twenty-two.”
“I’ll have to let the gardener go for lending you his uniform.”
“No. No, I forced him. Tied him up. I know jujitsu,” She showed her point by shifting into a quick stance before relaxing and smiling, “It’s a martial art.”
Dowager raised her eyebrows, whether it was out of judgement or amusement, Enola couldn’t tell, “You are most intriguing, miss Posy.” Enola chuckled. “Or should I say ‘Mrs’? My condolences, by the way.”
The two began to walk down a dirt path, birds chirped in the background.
The Dowager broke the uncomfortable silence, “Beautiful, isn’t it? It always felt an honour to me that my family was given this part of England to protect.”
“To protect?” Enola frowned.
“That is what it is to be an ancestral landowner. As the world becomes increasingly unstable, it feels important that the ideas of England are preserved for the safety and security of the future of our country.”
“It is lovely here.”
Dowager nostalgically smiled before hardening her facial features, “But you’re probably one of those new thinkers. My son was a new thinker too, never could focus on what was. It was always about what could be. I suspect my grandson is the same.” Suddenly, the Dowager stopped and stared at something. “England’s true glory is what it is. Do you see?”
Enola looked around. “I can see much beauty,” She said with a smile on her face. The surrounding was indeed beautiful. Lush, green grass and trees surrounded them. It was very much different to the new industrial workings and scenery in the main city. It felt like a breath of fresh air and certainly smelled like one.
“Very sensible answer. Now go, if my son or daughter-in-law finds you here, they’ll have you arrested.” The two women give a small smile to each other. “If you see my grandson before I do, will you tell him that I care about him a great deal?”
“I will,” Enola nodded.”
“Off you go.”
Enola quickly made her way through the woods, trying to recall where she came from to exit the maze-like trees. After a small while, she realised that she was just wandering aimlessly around. She closed her eyes for a second but accidentally bumped into someone. She could tell that it was not a tree or anything of the sort due to the structure and surface feel of the clothing and movement.
“My apologies- wait… It’s you from the train!” Enola’s eyes widened. She looked up to find the same crimson eye that she had seen on the train. It was the man who had saved Tewkesbury and helped her pull the boy from being crushed on the train.
The man simply smiled, “Do I know you, miss?”
Enola quickly remembered that she was still undercover and that she had been disguised as a boy during the train incident. “Uh- no sorry, I mistook you for someone else.”
He simply chuckled, seemingly unsuspecting of anything amiss in her slip-up, “Well it seems that you’re lost, Ms May Posy, was it?”
“Who’s asking?”
“I was the young master’s mathematics tutor”
Another memory resurfaced in Enola’s mind. “So you’re the one that saved his life,” Before she could reflect on her words, they had already slipped out.
“Correct, fortunately. The tree branch was mere inches away from crushing him. Follow me,” The man confirmed Enola’s statement.
The two fell into silence as they navigated their way through the woods. Enola took in the man’s posture and surface-level mannerisms. He had a sophisticated air around him and his footwork seemed light and agile. This suggested to Enola that he was from a noble family and that he was quick on his feet, and could even maybe hold his own during a fight.
The thing that intrigued her was his eyepatch and unnatural eye color. It unnerved her whenever his gaze would flick back to her to make sure that she was following.
Enola didn’t know what to make of this strange man. He intimidated, unnerved and intrigued her at the same time. Some of her instincts told her to run away from him but the rest reasoned that he didn't seem to have any malicious intentions.
When the pair had finally found an exit, they stopped and addressed one another.
Enola respectfully smiled and bowed her head, “Thank you for leading me here.”
“My pleasure” The man responds in a practised fashion. He bows to her before walking off into the distance.
After a few days full of tedious paperwork, easy cases from Scotland Yard, and more paperwork passed, Sherlock was ready to fake his death and escape to New York, again.
He did try to vocalise these thoughts to John and Miss Hudson but they were quick to remind him of his rent being due in a short while. Granted, he was able to stop by Q’s and test out some cool new weapons. Unfortunately, his time got interrupted by Moran, just as eager or even more so to try them out too. Sherlock knew how trigger-happy the soldier could be when left to his own devices in Q’s lab so the detective was quick to escape.
Just as he was walking down the flower market, contemplating what flowers to gift to Lima, he spotted a familiar face. “Bonde! Fred!” He grinned and ran up to them.
“Hello, Sherlock!” Bonde smiled. His arms were full with roses and gardenias. “What brings you here?”
“Shopping for Liam.”
Fred rolled his eyes. He was starting to get sick the Holmes’ blatant, overly affectionate and cheesy pining for the Moriartys.
The trio walked around the flower market in idle conversation. Fred tuned out Sherlock’s rambling for the most of it while Bonde smiled and intently listened.
They passed many stalls and ended up buying a strange arrangement of flowers that Fred was sure would be an eyesore to anybody who would have the displeasure of seeing it. “Liam will know their meanings,” Sherlock grinned. Fred rolled his eyes. He was definitely sick of the Holmes’ pining.
“Damn. I lost track of time. I need to go meet my newest case. It was nice catching up, Mr Bonde,” Sherlock grinned.
Bonde smiled, “Likewise. Good luck on your case.” The detective left their little group.
The two wandered around a little more before noticing a familiar-looking girl, “Isn’t that Sherlock’s missing sister?”
James squinted at the figure that rushed inside a small building with a boy, “It appears so.”
“Mycroft’s requested for her capture.”
James fastened his gloves, “Well, let’s get on it then.”
The pair silently followed the Holmes sister and stationed themselves inside the room next door.
A few moments passed before James spoke up quietly, “Can you hear what they’re saying?”
“Only faintly. Something about the Viscount’s life being in danger and his father being murdered,” Fred had pressed himself next to the paper-thin walls, his ear flattened against the wall.
James checked outside the room, “Bollocks, Lestrade is here and on the move.”
Lestrade suddenly got knocked and fell into the hallway. Prompting the girl and boy to run upstairs
“Come back here!” Lestrade hollered as he clambered to his feet. James and Fred joined him on his chase but they were abruptly cut off by a lady.
“Who’s he?” Someone exclaimed from the floor above. The group could hear furniture being shifted and moved around in front of the door.
A lady yelled above the sounds in a nasal voice, “Did you get her Inspector?”
“Quiet!”
James and Fred joined him on his chase but their path was abruptly cut off by the lady getting in their way. The group of adults all ran upstairs and attempted to kick down the door. There seemed to be a force resisting back since the door would open but not budge open.
Lestrade began to bang his fist against the door, “Open up! Miss Posy, or should I say, Miss Holmes?” Fred was slightly taken aback at Lestrade’s strange, unexpected angry behaviour. He had rarely seen the inspector this angry.
“Inspector Lestrade, I need to report an attempted murder! You’re supposed to be on our side.” A girl’s voice called out from behind the door. That must have been Enola, Fred noted.
Lestrade rammed his body against the door in hopes of slamming it open. He turned and yelled to the crowd behind him, “Help me get in through this door.”
The lady huffed, “Well I’ll help you when I get my money, my finder’s fee.”
“You’ll get your money when we catch her. Come on!”
James ran forward and kicked the door a few times, also slamming against the door. A prolonged yell of denial sounded out from behind the door as it was busted open. Lestrade ran in a hurriedly surveyed the room. There was only Enola there. The boy had escaped, probably out the window as the opened frame suggested.
Lestrade sighed and turned his glare to Enola, “He’s worth more, but you’re my priority.”
The girl bolted towards the window, intent on escaping just as the boy had done. James rushed in and grabbed her by the arm. He then pushed Enola to the floor and pinned her arms behind her back.
James pressed his knee against her back to stop her from throwing him off, “The viscount must have fled through the window. Fred, can you tail him?”
Fred shook his head. “Can’t, lost track of him.”
“Damn it.” James lifted his knee off Enola’s back and gently helped the girl to her feet before cuffing her with a pair of handcuffs that he had swiped from Lestrade’s pocket earlier. “So sorry about that aggression. Are you hurt anywhere?”
Enola stubbornly remained silent and James sighed. “Mycroft is stationed outside. I had one of my people inform him we were here,” Lestrade informed them. Fred and James proceeded to drag her outside and into a carriage that they found to be parked out the front of the building.
The door opened to the oldest Holmes sitting in a seat with a grim expression on his face. “Thank you, Bonde. Send my regards to Moran and Moneypenny.”
James chuckled and helped Enoola step through the carriage before turning around, “Tell them yourself at the next meeting.” Fred nodded and followed the taller man. The two walked down the street until their figures were out of sight.
The rain hit the carriage windows, making soft sounds that contrasted the horse’s clacking hooves. All was silent inside the carriage between the two siblings. The tension was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Or even one of Q’s new machete inventions.
Mycroft swallowed his discomfort and broke the silence, “You may not like me. You may not think what I am doing is right but I just need you to be safe and out of the way. I want you to be happy.”
Another silent pause. It took Mycroft a minute before he realised that tears were streaming down his sister’s face. He desperately wanted to wipe them away and comfort her. But he knew he had to play the bad guy. So he remained where he sat, unmoving. Through sniffles, Enola said, “No. You want me controlled. Because otherwise, you think I will affect your standing
“Enola, being a Holmes is extremely risky right now. Britain is changing but it is still a terrifying world for a young person like you. Book Smart is different from Street Smart. Having the name Holmes alone will force a target on your back from all sides. You will be seen as a threat.”
Another pause. The atmosphere began to turn hostile. “Let me out of this carriage. I will deny I am your sister to whoever asks and I will do it with pleasure,” Enola seethed through gritted teeth.
“Enola!” Mycroft’s voice rose slightly, causing the girl to flinch. “Understand what I am saying. You will be going to this finishing school, no objections.” More tears began to roll down his sister’s face. “Now hand it over, it is my money, after all.”
Enola took out her money from her corset and Mycroft gently took it and placed it in his coat’s pocket it away.
Mycroft sighed and sat back, “You may think that I’m the bad guy, but I’m just doing what is best for you.”
And with that, he got the final word in of their argument as they pulled up at the finishing school. The school loomed overhead, daunting and terrifying to the youngest Holmes’ eyes. It already looked like her prison.
“Keep your head down and try not to cause any trouble. I’ll be asking Miss Harrison for regular updates on your well-being,” Mycroft instructed her. Enola simply ignored him and promptly exited the carriage, following a pair of girls into the building with her belongings.
After she left the carriage, Mycroft slumped back in his seat and sighed. He was tired of this. He needed something to take his mind off the family drama.
“The Moriarty Manor, quickly now.”
“Brother Albert. It’s Mr Holmes,” Louis’ grumpy voice resounded throughout the drawing room.
Albert dryly chuckled, “Which one?”
“The one with a stick stuck up his ass.” And with that, Louis turned his heel and retreated out of the room.
“The one with a stick up his ass?” Mycroft raised an eyebrow as he stepped through the grand room.
Albert sighed and stood to greet the man, “Louis has been quite moody the past few weeks. His… colorful language has been shining through these past few days. Especially whenever ‘Holmes’ is mentioned. Moran has been exploiting that fact.” As the brunette was talking, Mycroft had carefully placed his coat and gloves on a sofa and snaked his arm around the former’s waist, nuzzling into the crook of his neck.
Albert raised an eyebrow but said nothing, opting to carefully manoeuvre them into a more comfortable position while standing. “What’s wrong? You’re not usually this touchy and affectionate.”
“I’m plenty touchy,” Mycroft huffed. He let go of the other man’s waist and began to saunter over to the lounge. Albert joined him with a pair of glasses and a bottle of brandy in hand.
They both sat and Albert began pouring a generous amount into both glasses. “Trying to kill me with alcohol poisoning?” Mycroft picked up his glass and carefully swirled it.
“Oh please. Your tolerance is ridiculously high. Don’t deny that you want this,” Albert raised his own glass and held it as a toast.
They clinked glasses and laughed. “Say, where is William?” Mycroft questioned.
“Off at his weekly chess match against Sherlock.”
“Weekly chess match?” Mycroft took a bemused sip of his drink, “Is that so? Nothing more?”
Albert chuckled, “Those two ‘geniuses’ can’t figure out what they have and keep dancing around each other.”
“That sounds familiar,” Mycroft grinned.
This issued a hearty laugh from both men.
Meanwhile, in the bustling streets of London, two men were seated opposite a small table, locked in a painstakingly slow chess match. Both stared each other down, taking in and analysing one another for a giveaway, a slip on the other’s poker face.
“Something’s troubling you.”
Sherlock paused for a moment, clarifying that he heard correctly before looking up and meeting the crimson-eyed gaze of his Liam. He chuckled, “what gives it away?”
William answered the detective without missing a beat, “Your posture is tense, indicating your flight or fight response has been triggered, giving me the impression that you’ve just had an argument. This is later disapproved with the stench of cigars that your body is reeking. However, it seems like this smell isn’t exactly new and that you’ve divulged your smoking problem at an alarming increase over the past few days. You’re agitated and you’re more quiet than usual. There would normally be an array of complaints from you featuring Doctor Watson, Miss Hudson and your brother.”
The blonde took a moment to breathe before standing and walking over to Sherlock, placing a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder while giving him a reassuring smile, “what’s the matter?”
“Heh, you really do know me,” Sherlock took hold of William’s hand and began to draw circles on the palm using his thumb. William seated himself at a place on the lounge next to Sherlock. “It’s my sister. You know what happened.” It was true, as soon as Enola had been found and caught by Fred and James, William was informed along with Albert and Louis.
“She’s a capable and very intelligent woman. I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
Sherlock shook his head and laid his head on William’s lap, “That’s not it,” slim fingers carded through the detective’s hair. “She’s just… I haven’t seen her for so long. I don’t even know much about her. I feel like I’ve failed as an older brother.”
William knew that he should have sugar-coated his words to protect Sherlock’s feelings. He should have said something along the lines of, ‘It isn’t your fault.’ But instead, he chose to not mince his words. Sherlock already knew the truth but he needed to hear it from an external party. “You most certainly have.”
A moment of silence passed before Sherlock heartily laughed and sat up, “You really don’t hold back, do you. What are your reasons why you think that way?”
“Well, as you said, you’ve been absent in the most important milestones of her childhood. You were unable to provide neither emotional nor physical support or affection for the years she is able to remember and then you thought sending her to a finishing school was the most prudent option for her safety.”
Sherlock playfully rolled his eyes and grumbled, “Great, rub more salt on the wound.” William carefully rested his head on the other man’s shoulder.
The two men chuckled before William looked up and fondly gazed at his detective, “My advice for you, Sherly, would be to stop treating her like she’s some innocent, clueless child. She’s a grown woman and an excellent detective to boot. Communicate to her as if she were a fellow detective.”
The detective in question grinned, “Brilliant as always, Liam.”
Lowering his head, Sherlock affectionately kissed his former crime lord’s lips, savouring the way his Liams’ lips tasted against him.
They both remained like that for a few seconds before Sherlock pulled away. “Let’s save this game of chess for a later time. It’s getting late, we should go to bed.” He began to walk off before stopping and giving William a coy smile.
The former laughed and allowed himself to be dragged by the hand into their shared room.