Chapter Text
The middle of the night did not stop the bustling of London. People were still moving or drinking the night away, the latter was something that Sherlock had done time to time. But tonight there was no alcohol, just tea. After all, he knew Edith was never too pleased when he ended up intoxicated.
“I assume you’ll be attending Enola’s wedding,” the man commented as the woman added some sugar to her cup.
“Your mother and I will be present the same way we’ve been all your lives,” Edith responded as she leaned back in her chair.
The man smiled at that, “Who would’ve thought Enola would be the first Holmes of our generation to marry?”
“You,” Edith said bluntly, “Of course she would with that boy of hers.” The woman gave a playful smirk at Sherlock, “And what of you? Any big developments you’ve been keeping out the paper?”
“Can’t say much,” Sherlock idly swirled his tea, “I suppose John is moving out.”
This caught Edith’s attention. With a raised eyebrow she asked, “What did you do?”
“He’s getting marry actually,” Sherlock corrected, “They’re going to move in together.”
Giving him barely a comment, Edith simply asked, “And how do you feel about that? I know you two are… partners.”
“Well I certainly don’t need to risk seeing them kissing. Better for John to get his own place especially since the chances of additional residents are high. No sense in having children around my lab equipment.”
“Seems like you have two weddings to look forward to.”
“Mary and John truly love each other,,” Sherlock said instead, “Tewksbury is a good lad and he brings Enola so much joy. He’ll love her to her dying day. I wouldn’t want to get in the way of any of that. They’re good people who deserve to be happy.”
“Just because you aren’t them, doesn’t mean you don’t deserve happiness too,” Edith spoke to the other sympathetically.
There was a beat of silence before, “I have a question for you, Miss Grayston,” Sherlock finally said, “What was it like when you first found mother?”
The woman took a pause of her ow before declaring firmly, “It was like coming home when I didn’t even know I was lost. Your mother was kind and warm and funny and just absolutely perfect.”
“I remember when I was young,” Sherlock began in remorse, “That she would sit there reading the paper with a pipe in her mouth while father would speak to Mycroft. While father was so busy ensuring his oldest would carry on the family reputation, she would pull me aside. We would climb trees and draw the nature together. She taught me everything I know about chemistry. We had some fun, she and I. Then Enola was born, then father overdosed, then Mycroft left, and I was a young lad looking for adventure.” Sherlock let silence wash over him to look at Edith, “Did mother ever regret what she did?”
Edith sighed, “Every action your mother has done, it was to make the world a better place, not only for Enola, but for everyone. Even if she had to do something morally questionable things, she would never regret it.” Edith gave a small smile, “But you don’t need me to tell you this. You’re just like her and there are few things you regrets.”
“Just two regrets,” Sherlock clarified but his heart was really in it. His thoughts dwelled on something else, “I suppose I’m becoming more like her everyday.”
“Do what you want, Sherlock,” Edith smiled, “We’ll be fine and we’ll be safe. Especially with Enola’s progressive young lord. We haven’t had a champion like him since the so called White Knight all those years back. After his death by the Lord of Crime, all of Hell broke loose.”
“Yes,” Sherlock’s eyes were downcast, “I was there you know. After that, the entire country changed, yet not as fast as I think he would’ve liked.”
“Certain people changed more than others,” Edith sighed, “Besides, progress isn’t quick but what happened did open the door to new reforms, even if that does take a bit.”
Finally standing up, Sherlock gave a small smile, “Thank you, Edith, for everything.”
“So London’s Hero does have some humility,” the woman smirked.
“You’ve looked out for my family for some time,” Sherlock explained, “Enola and mother. I won’t say keep them out of trouble. If you did, I know mother wouldn’t have chosen you all those years ago.”
Edith smiled back as she watched Sherlock exit. There was nothing more to be said, just a mutual understanding about what he was about to do. It was a journey that Edith wished him best of luck on with the hope he would regain that joy he had as a boy from back then.
When it came down to it, Enola Holmes could say in complete confidence that she was happy. She had her Tewkesbury for quite some time now and against all possible odds, managed to be the first Holmes sibling to find engagement. It was a fun coincidence that Enola was quite proud of and would gladly lord it over her brothers’ heads. It was a point that Enola dwelled on since her proposal. That she would wake up every morning to a devoted husband that would give her the world while maintaining her freedom. By all accounts she should live out her days happily rather than Sherlock’s consistent boredom and whatever the hell was going on with Mycroft.
Enola did not have the fame her brothers had, but see had found a love that did not chain her down. Rather she found a love that allowed her to soar higher without previous barriers that also brought out the best in her. It was a feelings that did not come to Holmes, not even for their parents. Yet Enola broke the mold in more ways than one, and she wouldn’t trade what she had with Tewksbury for the world.
This was Enola’s life and that was the life of her brothers. Sad, lonely, and single and while a part of her did pity them, Enola also cited their own snobbishness. Truly Enola figured she won the game. Her days full of joy with Tewksbury while she could still run her own investigations. There were no sacrifices, just happiness. She wouldn’t be on the run like her mother, fight with the dullness of life like Sherlock, and she wouldn’t be alone like Mycroft.
That was how the story would go yet Enola doubted the true extent of her brother’s own sins leaving to a poor doctor being led into the Tewksbury estate.
Pausing their badminton match momentarily expertly located in the bedroom, Enola turned her attention to one Doctor John H. Watson entering their home.
“Doctor Watson,” She assessed the man. His face was red showcasing sign of exertion or worry. There was faint smell of sweat as well. But there was a far more notable thing out of place with this visit. She step towards the man, “Where is Sherlock?”
“Ms. Holmes,” Watson approached, “That was a question I hoped you would answer. Ms. Hudson had said that you had stopped by earlier.”
“Yes, to continue discussing my engagement. I suppose he’s just that excited to no longer be responsible for me,” Enola answered remembering some of their previous conversations. When Enola had first told him the news he had a huge smile, something Enola hadn’t remembered seeing in years.
Enola remembered bits and pieces from before he moved to London. Though Enola had chalked it up the memories to it being just an idolized version of her brother. Back then she seemed to remember Sherlock having a broad smile and a more dramatic flair. He would brush his hand through his hair while laughing. Then when their mother disappeared and Sherlock returned, he was poised with carefully trimmed hair and a calm seriousness to him. Even wore a complete suit to top it all off. Nothing like the brother she remembered who climbed trees with her or laugh about chemistry with wide hopeful eyes. It has become clear when they were reunited that the Sherlock she knew was really more of a caricature she had created of a fun loving older brother.
Enola had come to accept this reality until she had broke the news of her engagement. It was then he had that smile that she had perceived as a fairytale.
Returning her attention to Watson though, Enola admitted, “We had planned to discuss more but no one was home. I assumed you two were out on a case.”
“I was in the country for a week,” Watson explained, “Haven’t seen Holmes since.”
“I last saw him four days ago,” Enola narrowed her eyes, “Did by chance Ms. Hudson mention when she last saw him?”
Watson thought back, “I think it was a couple of days ago. We’ll have to inquire her ourselves for the specifics. She was under the impression that he was staying with you again.”
Finally taking a step forward, Tewksbury chimed in, “Sherlock has only stayed here about four nights and each night was separate.”
At this Watson widened his eyes, “This past month he’s missed more nights than just four!”
“So,” Enola began to clarify, “Sherlock had gone missing repeatedly. He spent the last week at wherever he’s been sneaking off to. It’s possible you got home early, Watson, before he was able to make it back to make it seem like he’s been at Baker Street the majority of the time.”
“I arrived back two days ago,” Watson urged, “If that was the case then Holmes would’ve returned by now.”
Tewksbury titled his head, a habit he picked up from Enola, “Do you know where he’s been going? Or if he’s seeing anyone? Or a crime in his case I suppose?”
Immediately Enola broke into laughter, catching the other two off guard. They paused and a full minute of silence went by them as Enola laughed, tears of joy in her eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she failed to contain her laughter, “But Sherlock seeing someone!” She laughed again, “Oh Tewksbury your humor never ceases to amaze me.”
“Well,” Watson continued that line of thought, “Sherlock has seemed happier as of late.”
“That’s because he’s a snob who’s happy I’m not his problem anymore,” Enola explained. After all, her marrying Tewksbury meant that he no longer had to act as her guardian.
“What if he was kidnapped?” Tewksbury suggested. Honestly it was adorable to Enola when he tried to help.
“I’m assuming the flat was standard messy for Sherlock than messy as a fight broke out?” Enola asked to which Watson nodded, “Then he’s probably just undercover for a case.”
“Can you still investigate?” Watson continued, “Just to make sure he’s safe. It bothers me that if this were a case that he’s told me nothing about it.”
“Very well,” Enola agreed, “It would be amusing to find what has been vexing my brother all month.”
When arriving and confronting Ms. Hudson, the first thing Enola noticed was her choice of a new dress and perfume.
“Ms. Hudson!” Enola greeted, “Whose the lucky gent?”
“Enola!” Ms. Hudson beamed. Despite Enola first perceiving the woman as someone who was old fashion and would just scold her, Ms. Hudson immediately took a liking to her, blaming any unruliness on Sherlock. Honestly Enola was beginning to akin the woman to an older sister, helping teach her things Enola had approached with distain.
Ms. Hudson had taken Enola shopping which Enola had originally thought would be a living hell only to have fun as Ms. Hudson was never forceful about anything. It was a change from how Enola saw the woman’s relationship with Sherlock.
“You have a date?” Watson asked the landlady, “Congratulations!”
“Why thank you,” Ms. Hudson smiled, “He’s a proper gentleman you know. Respectful and well off too. Not to mention fierce as he’s always protecting us ladies.”
“That’s wonderful,” Enola celebrated with Ms. Hudson, “How long have you two been seeing each other?”
“Oh about a handful of months now,” Ms. Hudson said joyfully.
“That’s great,” Enola reassured. Honestly this woman needed a break from having to constantly dealing with Sherlock’s shenanigans. Still there is a matter at hand, “Anyway we were hoping you could tell us when you last saw Sherlock. You see he’s been missing for the past two days and we’re trying to figure out if this is typical Sherlock-ness or troubling Sherlock-ness.”
Ms. Hudson’s face dropped, “I thought he was with you. Last time we spoke was three days ago.”
Enola let out a sigh and held her finger in the air, “To his room!” She twirled around and began to march up the stairs.
Once entering his flat, Enola was immediately caught off guard. She thought he would be on a case, one that was baffling him enough to repeatedly spend nights away. Instead the floor was clean, no papers were amiss. Her eyes drifted to Sherlock’s chemistry supplies. Her eyes caught onto some basic chemicals that didn’t yield much. A whiff of lavender filled her nose as she got closer to the beakers.
When Enola was younger her mother used to attempt to bake some cakes for her birthday. Key word attempt. More often than not they ended up burnt and dry. To drown out the smell, her mother set up various flowers including lavender.
Sherlock was trying to hide whatever his most recent experiment was. That meant whichever chemicals were lying about probably weren’t the ones most recently used.
She pulled open the cabinet with the remaining chemicals, her eyes examining container in hopes of something connecting them. There! Enola smiled. A small blue residue was one of the containers leading Enola to pull each out. Silver nitrate. It was usually used for medical purposes so it was possible that Sherlock had gotten hurt. But if it was just that then when all the secrecy with the lavender and whatnot. Carefully Enola slipped the container into her pocket.
Still… Enola could use this. Turning to Tewksbury she asked, “Where’s the nearest flower shop?”
Quickly trying to follow Enola as she walked to Sherlock’s personal room, Tewksbury explained, “Well, there’s a traveling seller and Baker Street is part of his route.”
“That’s makes him harder to find,” Enola muttered to herself before turning to Watson, “Did Sherlock ever keep a journal that you saw?”
“No,” Watson answered, “You could say that’s always been more of my job.”
Enola glanced away. Every person always had their own form of expression, something that they were able to process their thoughts with. Enola continued her questioning, “What about his violin? Sherlock doesn’t typically read off music sheets so that won’t help but what kind of music has he been playing lately?”
Watson furrowed his brow, “Well let’s see… there was… uh… I’m afraid I can’t name them but they were… joyful I think?”
“Sherlock. Violin. Joyful,” Enola repeated sarcastically as she examined his room. Some books in the corner of the shelf caught her eye. Way back Sherlock had once said he enjoyed sketching as a way to process thoughts. Enola pulled out the least worn sketchbook and began to flip through it.
A staircase that after closer inspection gave the Golden Ratio. But Sherlock wasn’t that much of a mathematician, why would he be drawing that? She turned more pages only to stop suddenly. Enola ran her finger along the torn page mark. She flipped through it more only to find more torn pages. Sometimes it was only a chunk and others had the entire page ripped out.
Enola grabbed one of the pieces charcoal and began to rub it one the page after the torn one. If Sherlock had pressed down hard enough during his sketching then— the image was formed. One of a man. The lack of marks in the hair that nicely framed his face implied that he was blond. Enola tore the page out for herself and placed the book back.
Suddenly Enola heard the door to the flat swing open and loud footsteps, “Enola!”
“Why does he have to be here?” Enola said and folding the paper and adding it to her collection of clues. Then with a firm smile she stepped out to meet the dreadful sight of a stupid mustache and tall hat.
“Mycroft,” she greeted stiffly, “Sherlock is out at the moment but—“
“And where has he run off to this time?” Mycroft gestured to the room, “A case I presume yet Doctor Watson has not a clue to where so he called you. Something is clearly a matter as his smoking has decreased and the room is too neat to be his work.”
Enola smelled it. Or rather the lack of smoke that would linger in the room due to Sherlock’s habits. Then of course the room was too neat, she saw that with the perfectly made bed. Sherlock didn’t think that he should waste his time on such things. Someone had clearly been here begging the question was it Sherlock who tried to cover his tracks? Or was it the culprit of whoever he was pursuing?
“And now you’re investigating,” Mycroft gestured to Enola, “You will hand over any evidence you’ve found now!”
“Whatever do you mean, brother?” Enola tilted her head innocently, “According to you I lack any investigative and deductive skills so—“
“There’s an added weight in your pocket,” Mycroft glared at her, “A container with a weight similar to that which Sherlock uses. Hand it over now.”
“Mr. Holmes,” Tewksbury tried to stand it front of the man, “I would like to request— well, rather demand, that you not interfere with Enola’s investigation—“
“What are you on about, boy?” Mycroft stared at Tewksbury.
“What I’m saying is,” Tewksbury tried to put more command into his voice, “I, Viscount Tewksbury, Marquess of Basilwether, a member of our government and House of Lords, would like you to show more respect to my fiancé.”
Mycroft stepped forward, “And I am the government, boy. And as such it is well within my power to arrest a lord who lacks the confidence and support of much of the older and more influential lords for obstruction of justice.”
“Well,” Tewksbury swallowed, “You may have been the government as you put it a few years back but since a notable portion of your power was stripped due to your handling of the Lord of Crime incident by those same older and more influential lords. I’m sure I would be able to bond with them over a mutual distaste of you.”
There was a pause as he stared at Tewksbury, a look of disbelief at such a young man having the gall to try to back him, Mycroft Holmes, into a corner. The older man chuckled, “The real question, Lord Tewksbury, is how much will they care about a woman thinking she can tracked down my brother better than me, or a list of every shortcoming your family has had as a way to soil your reputation.”
Enola glared at Mycroft, “You’re a proper arse, you know that? Sherlock is my brother too.” She pulled out the silver nitrate and practically slapped it on his hand, “I already got what I needed from it.”
She couldn’t believe that just a few years ago when their mother first disappeared Enola had been excited to see her brothers again, Mycroft included. She had remembered that while professional, he had a fun side that he shared with his siblings. Mostly it was to embarrass Sherlock by beating him in combat repeatedly. But he would smile and call him Sherly while patting him on the back a bit too hard. It was honestly one of the few things Enola remembered of the man. Now he was as cold as any of the men in this damn society.
Meanwhile Mycroft examined the silver nitrate, “What else did you find? Have you checked his sketch book yet?”
“Of course I checked his sketchbook,” Enola rolled her eyes, “I’m not an amateur.”
“Show me what he drew.”
“Only if you keep me on the case,” Enola bartered.
Mycroft scoffed and walked towards Sherlock’s room, “I will retrieve it myself then.”
“Wait!” Enola rushed in front of the door, “I have the closest to the original so if you want it, you have to hire me for this case.”
“I don’t need your help to solve this case,” Mycroft glared.
“Please,” Enola reasoned, “I can get to places the great Mycroft can’t go without getting recognized. I’ve spent more time with Sherlock recently than you have and I have more time to investigate. Plus Sherlock said you’ve been in a bit of a deduction stump recently—“
“He said what?!” Mycroft said offended, “When I find him…” he muttered before deciding, “I have more resources to find him and will use every one of them—“
“Use your fancy resources to find him like how you found mother?” Enola challenged, “If you want the drawing then I expect compensation!”
“You are marrying a lord what riches could you possibly want!?”
“Not money,” Enola declared spitefully in a fit of sibling pride, “In return for the picture, you will say out loud that Enola Holmes is the smartest Holmes to ever live.”
“I will not be saying that!”
“Very well, just say smarter than you then.”
“Fine, I am smarter than you then. Now give me the drawing!”
“You know that’s not what I meant—“
The clearing of a throat, “Excuse me?”
Both Holmes siblings turned from where they were fighting with the doorknob, “What!”
Watson immediately jumped back at their tone and intense glare, “Sorry, I was just wanted to say that I called Mr. Holmes here—“
“Ha!”
“Why!?”
“—So that you two could work together—“
“I am not going to work with her/him!”
“—That way we have the best chance at finding Sherlock.”
Stepping into the fray, Ms. Hudson began, “Put whatever petty quarrels you have aside. We just need to focus on Sherlock being safe.”
There was a silence between the two until the crinkling of paper. Holding up the drawing that had been folded, Enola told her brother, “If I show you this, you better not cut me out of the case.”
The man gave a nod as she handed him the paper. As he unfolded it, the second the face of the blond man stared back at him, his face dropped in a way Enola had never seen before. Wordlessly he folded the paper back up and handed it back to Enola.
“What did you see?” Enola asked as Mycroft began to slowly pace. “Well?”
He held up a finger to say wait as he was deep on his thoughts as Enola insisted, “What is it, Mycroft? Do you recognize the man?”
“Hush,” he hissed, “I’m trying to think.” The man stopped, “I can’t be seen investigating this. I’m too recognizable and they know too much. They’ll undoubtedly be on this case now since he’s involved.” Suddenly Mycroft turned to Enola, “But they don’t know you. You can get by undetected. They’ll figure your connection out eventually but for now it’ll buy us some time.”
“Who can’t see you?” Enola pushed, “Mycroft, who is this man?”
“Someone who’s very dangerous, Enola,” Mycroft admitted, “Sherlock is no doubt chasing after him. It’ll get him killed though.” There was a pause as he addressed Enola, “I have a deal for you. That man that Sherlock drew, we need to catch him. I fear what he may do free and what lengths Sherlock will go to because of this man.” Mycroft tapped on the paper, “You find one of them, you find both of them. Then you call on me and I’ll have a raid done. We’ll catch him and we’ll save Sherlock.”
“Thank you for trusting me, Mycroft,” Enola gave him a smile. It was rare for Enola, but she was just happy that Mycroft wasn’t be a complete fool about the situation, about her.
“If you solve this,” the man added, “I can get you a job.” Immediately Enola perked up. “Solve this, and you have my respect. Your job will probably be more undercover work but it’s something.”
Enola grew a huge smile, “Mycroft, are you serious?”
The man gave a nod, “You’d be working directly under me in the government.”
“Thank you!” Enola beamed and turned to Tewksbury, “The flower merchant, do you know where he is?”
“Uh, yeah,” Tewksbury nodded, “Probably Daner Street.”
“Then come on,” Enola motioned, “We have a Holmes to find!”
Mycroft watched the group leave the flat, Enola leading the way. Once the door was shut, Mycroft waited a moment before conducting his own search.
A Holmes always leaves clues for another Holmes to find.
Mycroft needed to find whatever Sherlock left for Enola before she found it herself. That way no one will know what their brother is really up to.