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i.
It wasn’t a month until after the Lord’s vote that Tewksbury saw Enola again. He spent the entire time wondering when he would, checking to see if she had sent him any sort of letter or left a message in the papers. There was never anything.
But a month after the vote, she arrived on his door asking to have tea with him.
He wasn’t quite sure what to do with himself.
“Will it always be like this with you? Showing up at my house and demanding tea out of the blue?” He questioned with a grin as they sat down.
Enola rolled her eyes. “Honestly Tewksbury, I told you you would see me again, and so here I am. And it just so happens that tea is the perfect excuse for us to see each other without raising suspicion.”
She lifted her cup to her lips, and he mirrored the action. As she brought her cup back to her lap, his eyes found hers. “It’s not a problem, is it? Me stopping by?”
Her voice was soft, hesitant. Completely un-Enola like.
Tewksbury’s eyes softened at their own accord and he tilted his head at her with a smile. “Of course not, Enola, I was kidding. I was just surprised to see you.” Her smile widened at his words, and his heart fluttered. His brows furrowed as he suddenly realized the entirety of what she had said. “What did you mean you wanted to stop by without any suspicion?”
Enola sat straighter and grinned, looking as if she was moments away from jumping up and down with joy. “I have a new case.”
Tewksbury's heart stuttered and he tried not to show it on his face. If his smile became strained, Enola didn’t seem to notice, probably too ecstatic at the idea of solving a new case.
It wasn’t as if he thought she wasn’t capable of handling herself. It was more that the last time they had been involved in a case, someone had tried to kill them both and he didn’t want to see her hurt.
Enola didn’t seem to notice any of his inner turmoil and began to disclose the case details.
“It’s about all of the missing children, the ones from the orphanages. You remember which ones, don’t you?-” He did. Multiple reports of children going missing from orphanages had been in the newspapers lately, although no one had taken it seriously at first. But a dozen had gone missing over the past few weeks, and now apparently Enola was going to go off and stop them. This was not helping his worries for her. “Well I’ve been asked to help catch them, along with my brother. It’s utterly ridiculous that I can’t go on my own and solve the case, but I suppose I’m just not seen as capable enough.”
“That’s ludicrous.” Enola paused, and Tewksbury realized he had spoken aloud. Blushing, he continued on before she could draw her own conclusions. “You jumped off a train and caught the man hired to kill me at sixteen. You’re absolutely brilliant. The idea of you being incapable of anything is absurd.”
His tone had been far too defensive, he realized too late. When he looked back at her, her eyes were wide and impossible to read. Tewksbury resisted the desire to brush his fingers along her cheek.
“You could solve the case in a matter of days all on your own, is all I meant.” His thumb traced the rim of his cup to prevent moving his hand towards her. He was sure she wouldn’t appreciate it in the slightest.
“Oh.” He looked up in time to see her swallow and shake her head, as if collecting her thoughts. “Well thank you, I suppose.”
Tewksbury nodded, and that was that.
Or so he thought, until Enola inhaled and spoke.
“You know-” It was a bit pathetic how fast his head shot up so he could look her in the eyes. She was looking down at her lap, which was unfortunate, because he couldn’t see the lovely hazel flecks in her eyes, but she was also smiling, so he could look at that instead. “You weren’t a total nincompoop during our last adventure.”
“Oh, I wasn’t?” His voice conveyed amusement, and he was nowhere near insulted at her words. Nincompoop had become some sort of nickname since he had met her.
Enola looked up at him as her smile grew, and Tewksbury's eyes shot to his lap. If she caught him staring at her lips, she would surely throw her tea at him and storm out, not that he wouldn’t deserve it.
“Well you managed to avoid getting shot, so I’d say you’re only a bit of a nincompoop, not a complete one.”
He raised one brow at her words, sipping at his tea before responding. The drink had gone a bit cold, but it was no matter when Enola had his complete attention. “What a compliment from the Enola Holmes. I had no idea you had it in you!”
She started to laugh, and who cared about anything else when that noise existed. He let out a laugh along with her, trying not to become too distracted.
Her hair bounced around her shoulders as she giggled, and the sunlight streaming through the windows left it with a golden shine. His breath caught in his throat at the sight.
Her laughter died down to a gentle smile, and she brought her cup back up to her lips. He copied her movement with shaking hands, gaze still locked on her hair.
The idea of being completely coherent and rational when around Enola Holmes was entirely out of the question.
It had been from the moment Tewksbury met her.
Once they had finished their lukewarm tea, they moved to the woods, per Enola’s request.
“I feel the need to be amongst the trees. I’m sure you understand the urge.” Was all Enola offered as a reasoning, and he did understand.
They passed his mother on the way out, and he pointedly ignored the grin she sent his way as she saw them together. He’s sure his face was one of utmost frustration, and he hurried Enola out the door before she could see his mother.
They were nearing the treehouse when Enola spoke. She had been staring at the trees and plants around them, and Tewksbury had been staring at Enola.
The sun was shining through her hair even more brilliantly than inside, and each time she took another step her hair moved and shimmered.
“I’ll be gone for weeks for the case, maybe months, but after that I’ll be sure to come back for more tea.” Tewksbury smiled at the thought, brushing aside the idea of not seeing her for weeks, or possibly even months.
“I’d like that. Hopefully you can write to me while you're away.” Enola nodded absentmindedly, still staring off at the budding flowers. There was a patch of common daisies in the nearby grass, just up ahead, and he saw her squint in an effort to make them out against the sun.
“I’ll try to. I’m not sure if I can, but we’ll see.” As they neared the patch, Tewksbury leaned down, plucking a single daisy between gentle fingers. Enola raised her brow as he leaned up and towards her, placing the flower behind her ear.
Without thinking, he smoothed out a lock of her hair over her shoulder, relishing in the smoothness of the strands.
Enola inhaled sharply at the motion and he jerked his hand back to his side as if it had been burned. Her eyes were wide and full of astonishment, but she didn’t look as if she was about to yell at him for impropriety.
She looked a bit dazed, actually.
Tewksbury looked at her in concern, not sure what to do or say. He wasn’t sure what exactly there was to say. He only hoped she didn’t know the meaning of daisies. Knowing Enola, however, she most certainly did.
She gave him the same smile she had after he had kissed her hand the day of the Lord’s vote, all those weeks ago, and turned to continue on the path. He followed, as he always did.
“Do you have any leads on the missing children yet?” Tewksbury’s voice was tentative, still not entirely sure if everything was alright between them yet.
But Enola perked up at his question, as she always did when discussing a mystery or riddle. His shoulders loosened at the movement, relief settling in his bones at the returned casualty between them.
“Of course I do.” He chuckled and fondly shook his head.
“Of course you do. I can’t believe I thought for a second that you didn’t.”
Enola laughed softly before her voice turned serious. “One of the directors of the orphanages has gone missing as well, and I think she’s involved in the kidnappings. The timing of her disappearance aligns with one of the children exactly.”
Tewksbury’s brows furrowed. “And you think she’s been kidnapped as well? Or the one taking the children?”
“Taking the children. There are other suspects, but she has a motive.” Tewksbury turned to Enola to find her already watching him with a sly smile, clearly knowing he would look her way.
“Well, what is this secretive motive?” He implored, knocking his elbow into hers. They were almost at his treehouse, and he looked ahead towards it rather than staring at Enola’s lips.
She snorted in a rather unladylike manner (which just made him fonder of her) and rolled her shoulders. “Her daughter ran away a year ago and is believed to either be dead or in one of the orphanages in London. It’s possible the director wants to make up for her lost child by taking other children.”
Tewksbury nodded slowly, processing her theory. It made complete sense, especially when no other suspects had been mentioned in the papers.
“Why has this director never been named in the papers? I’ve never even heard of a director going missing. Even if she isn’t the one behind the kidnappings, a missing woman is still something to note to the public.”
Enola rolled her eyes, and Tewksbury understood immediately that whatever she was to say would have to do with Enola being far smarter than the entire police force combined.
“Because the police think it has barely any connection to the case. Which is incredibly stupid of them, but hopefully Sherlock will have more sense,” She huffed in irritation, and he tried not to smile at the way it sent a lock of curly hair flying away from her face.
Now wasn’t the time for that.
“I’m sure he will. And I’m sure no matter what, you’ll catch whoever is behind all this.” Enola sent him a small but grateful smile, and he gave her one in return. They had reached his treehouse, and he let her climb the rope first, humming as he waited for her to reach the top.
Once she had, and he had climbed in as well, they sat side by side against the leather chest. She thumbed through his book, and he watched her. It seemed this always happened.
Enola sporadically came across his flower pressings between the pages, and would lift each one to spin between two gentle fingers.
A month later, reports in the paper of Enola and Sherlock Holmes having cracked the case made him pause. The culprit was reported to be Tabitha Hill, the old advisory of one of the London orphanages, just as Enola had suspected back in the woods that day.
Tewksbury grinned and didn’t even attempt to bury his affection for her as he read through the report.
ii.
He didn’t hear from Enola again until two months after seeing the report in the paper. Admittedly, he repeatedly checked the paper to see if she’d been mentioned again, but she hadn’t. But eventually, he didn’t have to wait any longer.
The letter from her was a surprise. She had said she would try to write to him, but he knew it would be unlikely.
The surprise Tewksbury felt upon seeing her small scroll of “Enola” in the upper corner melted into tenderness and warmed his chest.
Tewksbury took careful care of opening the envelope, gentle fingers prying the paper open. After extracting the letter, the envelope was gently placed onto the table beside his bed, next to the vase of tulips.
His eyes skipped over her messy scroll, barely able to read it coherently in his elation. By the end, he knew two things: Enola was safe, and she was coming to visit soon.
His face split into a grin, jaw nearly aching with the force of it. After three months with no word from her, Enola was coming back.
Sure enough, a week later, Enola was back. Tewksbury had arrived before her in anticipation, meeting her at the square she had found him selling flowers, as she had requested they meet there.
He had bought a red rose for her already, and twirled it in his hand as he watched for a glimpse of her.
The last time she had received a rose from him, she had proclaimed she didn’t care for them, but he had seen her with his pressings in his treehouse. He hoped she would like this one too.
A tap on his shoulder made him turn, and Tewksbury had barely looked in the direction of the touch before someone was throwing their arms around him.
“Tewksbury!” Enola’s voice met his ears, and he didn’t hesitate to throw his arms around her, nearly stumbling back with the force of her embrace. He laughed and tightened his arm around her back when he heard her giggle, pressing her to his chest.
After a moment, they both pulled back, and he brushed his thumb along her shoulder, his hand on her upper arm. Tewksbury melted a bit at the soft look on her face, but kept his grin firmly in place to not show it.
He remembered the rose, which was held limply in his other hand and blinked. “Oh! This is for you.”
She rolled her eyes as she took the flower, but he could see her biting back a smile. “And what’s this for?”
“Well, I missed you, Enola Holmes.”
“I suppose I missed you too, Lord Viscount Nincompoop Tewksbury of Basilwether.” He laughed and she did too, finger brushing along the petals of the rose.
Their laughter died, and Tewksbury took a moment to soak in the sight of her. He knew it was ridiculous to have missed her so much, but he couldn’t help it. Every nerve in his body had been waiting to reunite with her since the moment they had parted.
“So, you solved the case.”
Enola raised a brow. “Are you surprised?”
“Of course I’m not. And I’m not surprised that it was the director either. You suspected it from the beginning.” They began to slowly walk through the throng of people, and Tewksbury wondered if she would be upset if he bought her every flower in the square.
“Well we both know I’m far smarter then every officer in London,” She shrugged playfully, tossing her hair behind her shoulder when it moved in front of her face. He tracked the movement with his eyes, laughing all the while at her comment.
“I know you are. Was the case any fun?” As predicted, her eyes lit up as she began to detail everything that had happened, and he grinned at her.
After hours had passed, they both knew it was time to leave. They walked together for as far as they could, Tewksbury telling her everything that had happened in the past three months.
Enola nodded along to his story of the Lord’s discussions and how prickly they all seemed to be, and laughed when he told her of nearly setting himself on fire when he had sat too close to the fireplace.
When it came to depart, both turned to each other at the same time. Enola smiled gingerly, and he reached down for her hand, bringing it to his mouth to leave a gentle kiss on her skin.
She let her hand linger in his before she pulled it back to her chest, smiling still. “I’ll see you again soon, Viscount Tewksbury.”
“And I’ll see you, Enola Holmes.” She turned away first, red rose still clutched in her hand, and didn’t look back as she left. As ridiculous as it was, he felt longing spread over him the moment she turned the corner and disappeared from his view.
Tewksbury wanted to follow her, wanted to refuse to separate from her.
He turned and left instead.
iii.
The next few months were awful, in short.
It should have been a good year: the seasons changed, he turned seventeen, and everything was relatively normal. But Enola hadn’t returned home once, so Tewksbury couldn’t exactly call it a considerably wonderful year.
He didn’t know her birthday, she had never told him, but on the day he turned seventeen, he bought a bouquet of red roses and placed them in a vase beside his bed.
He remembered her in the square months ago, clasping the red rose he had bought her in her hand, uncaring of thorns. His eyes softened each time he looked at the bouquet beside his bed, and he thought distinctly of her every time.
Tewksbury strode out of his house and walked down to the town square. It had been ten months since he’d seen Enola Holmes. Not a necessarily significant date in the grand scheme of anniversaries, but the concreteness of ten months without her was enough to make his head spin.
He was agitated by the time he made it to the square, and he knew he couldn’t stay long considering it was already nearly dark, but he wasn’t sure what to do with himself at home.
He crossed a small alley, nearly passing it entirely, but he hesitated as a shadow moved in the corner of his vision.
Tewksbury’s head turned, and he wasn’t sure what to expect, but it sure as hell wasn’t Enola leaning against the wall of the alley, covered in blood and grimacing in pain.
His jaw dropped and he froze for a moment before he shot towards her. His blood was frozen and breath raced, not caring of being quiet or careful as he practically sprinted her way.
She heard him quick enough, looking in his direction with glassy eyes. When she recognized him to be Tewksbury, she disguised the pain on her face with a cheery smile, but sweat was beading on her forehead and he could hear her rapid breathing.
“Tewksbury! What a surprise.”
“What the fuck happened?” Enola jerked in surprise at his language, but Tewksbury paid no mind, directing his attention to the blood on her body. She had a cut on her forehead, and blood dripped down half of her face. Her hand was pressed to her side, which seemed to be seeping blood as well.
“Just a run in with an assassin, you know how it goes,” She coughed, and he was horrified to see a bit of blood splatter onto her lips. “I’m fine, really, no need to worry. I’ll patch myself up, there's no need-”
“No need for what? For me to care about you? You’re coming to my house and I’m helping you.” Enola began to protest, but her breathing had begun to shallow and Tewksbury was not willing to fight with her about this. “Enola. Now, please.”
His voice quieted with his plea, and she looked up at him with defeat in her eyes. Slowly, she nodded, and Tewksbury swooped down to wrap his arm around her shoulder, helping to lift her up. She gasped sharply in pain at the movement, and he murmured a quiet apology before they began to move.
The walk back was brisk. Thankfully, it was dark enough that barely anyone was out, and those who were didn’t look their way. He nearly cried with relief when his house came into view, and turned his gaze to Enola.
Her eyes had turned glassy again, and her head looked dangerously close to falling asleep on his shoulder. That wasn’t good.
Tewksbury was quick to half carry her inside, effectively sneaking her past his mother and uncle. They would surely call a doctor, and he knew that was the last thing Enola wanted. Maybe he would regret it later, but for now he would try and help her in any way he could.
Enola seemed more alert as he helped her to sit on his bed, though she seemed to be murmuring to herself incoherently. Tewksbury hastily grabbed any medical supplies he could, returning to his room to find Enola pressing a hand to her forehand.
Blood was dripping down her forehead from the still bleeding wound.
He wanted to cry, just a bit.
He settled for sitting in front of her, moving her head aside gently and pressing a cloth to the wound before returning her hand.
“Keep pressure on it.”
“Yes, Doctor Tewksbury.” He rolled his eyes, but if she could crack jokes then maybe her wounds weren’t as bad as they seemed.
“I need to see the wound on your side. You need to- um. You need to move your shirt,” Tewksbury could feel the heat in his cheeks, but Enola only rolled her eyes. Any other time he was sure she would have smacked him, but for now she settled for lifting the fabric with her free hand.
At least she was in a shirt and trousers, rather than a dress and corset.
Tewksbury pointedly ignored thinking about how much bare skin of Enola’s was on display, instead leaning in to look at the wound.
“I need to touch it. Is that alright?” He swallowed carefully.
“Honestly, Tewksbury, of course you need to touch it to treat it. Just do it, please,” Enola spoke sharply.
“Right, of course,” He shook his head, and grabbed another cloth to place onto her wound, whipping away as much blood as possible. When her skin was nearly clean, he placed the needle at her skin, pausing and looking up at her.
She nodded once at him, and he began to sew the wound. She winced the entire time, and he winced at her pain, but he continued until the wound was closed.
He wrapped a long cloth around her torso, crossing it around until he deemed it acceptable and tied the ends across her stomach. It would hopefully keep his stitching in place.
Unless, of course, Enola went off on another mission tomorrow and ripped them all open.
Tewksbury moved up to her head next, removing her hand from her wound when it seemed she wasn’t aware enough to do it herself.
The bleeding had stopped, thankfully, and he used a clean cloth to wipe the blood away. He left the blood on her cheek for now, knowing that sewing her wound was more important.
As he sewed, Enola stared aimlessly over her shoulder. Tewksbury wasn't sure if she was feeling distorted or if she was just trying to distract herself from the pain.
He left her lying on his bed as he cleaned up, trying not to flinch at the sight of her blood staining the fabric. He left the bloody cloths in a small pile in the corner of his room, not wanting someone to find them and question where they had come from.
Tewksbury sat gently on the bed next to Enola, and she looked up at him as the mattress shifted.
“Enola, what happened?”
She sighed. He waited patiently for her to answer. “I was on a case, and there was an assassin, as I said. I wasn’t quick enough, and he hit me over the head and stabbed me.”
Tewksbury wasn’t able to not blanch at her words. He had seen her wounds, but hearing her describe it so frankly was making him want to hurl. Seeing his reaction, Enola placed a gentle hand against his. Her skin was warm against his.
“I’m fine, I promise. Especially since you helped me, against my wishes.” He smiled weakly at her jest, looking down at their joined hands. His heart fluttered, but he couldn’t force himself to smile, not after seeing her dripping in her own blood. She squeezed his hand, and his eyes found hers. “Tewksbury, I’m okay. I’m okay.”
He nodded, and turned his hand in hers to join them, his thumb moving to brush against her knuckles. Enola didn’t blink at the movement, but hazed down at their hands drowsily.
“You can sleep. I’ll be here,” He whispered.
She nodded sleepily. He knew if she had been any more coherent she would have proclaimed that she didn’t need any sort of protection, but for now she borrowed further under his blankets and settled to sleep.
Tewksbury watched her for most of the night, memorizing the lines of her face, the movement of her breathing. He didn’t know if it would be another year before he saw her again. It could be longer. For now, he sat quietly and committed her entire being to his memory and soul.
He moved to the floor eventually, her hand still clasped firmly in his. He fell asleep slumped against the bed with their fingers linked.
When Tewksbury woke the next morning, Enola was gone. He wasn’t exactly surprised, though the familiar feeling of longing and heartache had settled over him.
He sat up slowly, not sure what to do. He looked around before his gaze settled on his vase of roses. One was missing. A smile settled across his face, and the heartache lessened, just the tiniest bit.
iv.
Another two months passed, and as usual, Tewksbury didn’t hear from Enola. He knew this was their routine, of her solving cases and appearing at random moments, but he wished she would stay for longer. He missed her presence. But, deep down, he understood she was not one for staying in one place for too long.
He had just arrived at a ball being thrown by one of the fellow Lords, and he was already bored even without having stepped inside. His mother had insisted he attend, and so there he was, though begrudgingly.
He already knew he would most likely spend the entire night off to the side, pretending to have fun and wishing he was with a certain Holmes detective instead.
Tewksbury stepped inside the ballroom, and immediately choked on his drink. The couple a foot away stared at him, but he paid them no mind.
She was there in the ballroom. Enola.
She was in a deep blue dress, the front low cut to reveal cleavage, which instantly made him blush, and her hair was in loose waves. The front was pulled away to show her lovely face, and he could see how bright her eyes were from across the room.
He could also see how wrapped up she was in another boy. He was spinning her around, both of them smiling, and she occasionally let out a gentle giggle and flirtatious flutter of her eyelids. Tewksbury had no idea who the boy was, but he looked about seventeen, the same as both of them.
He pulled Enola closer after spinning her once more, and Tewksbury’s entire body trembled with rage.
He had absolutely no right to be jealous. But he could see red tinging the edges of his vision and his heart was beating quicker than it should be. He was frozen in place, with absolutely no idea what to do about this boy dancing with Enola, when the music changed.
Enola pulled away from the boy, sending him a gentle way and another smile before she turned away from him completely. She began to walk away neatly, and he could see her face had dropped to one of boredom, a complete opposite to what it had been while she had been dancing.
Enola had been acting.
Tewksbury felt like the nincompoop she often declared he was. She was probably undercover, and she had had to dance with him. She had absolutely no interest in that random boy. Hopefully.
Enola was walking in his direction, but glanced around to absorb every detail of the room in the way she always did, and he found himself grinning. She looked his way eventually, delight settling over her face as she recognized him. He straightened his jacket as she stepped toward him, grin still in place at the sight of her.
“Lord Viscount Tewksbury. It’s my pleasure.” She curtsied, amusement twinkling in her eyes, but her face was serious. She must be undercover as he had suspected.
“The pleasure is all mine, My Lady.”
Enola held out her hand, and his heart froze before beating twice as fast as he realized what she meant for him to do. “Priscilla, My Lord.”
He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her hand. The gesture was as familiar as it was thrilling. Enola let a small smile slip, and he mirrored it.
“Priscilla, of course. Would you care to dance?”
She tilted her head in agreement, and he pulled her onto the dance floor. He twirled her slowly, matching the movements of the other couples dancing alongside them. No one was paying them any attention, and so he brushed a lock of her hair behind her ear.
His hand slid down behind her shoulder to settle at her hip, and she raised a brow with a smirk. She stepped closer to him as they spun across the floor, and he could almost feel her breath across his face. He tilted his head down, as if he was going to kiss her, and her breath stuttered in her throat.
The look she gave him was enough for him to want to faint then and there. He spun her out before spinning her back to his side, and she managed to nudge his jaw with her nose without anyone noticing. It was his turn to stutter, and she smirked in triumph.
Tewksbury was about to lean towards her again, when her gaze flitted over his shoulder and her smile tightened. No one else would have seen the difference, but he knew her well enough to know that she had seen something, or someone.
She brought her eyes back to his, smile just a bit too cheery to be real.
“Would you like to step out for a breath of fresh air, Lord Tewksbury?”
He nodded, smiling politely and playing the part. “Of course.”
They walked side by side out the door, smiling but moving quiet so as not to draw attention to themselves. Once in the empty hallway, they threw their arms around each other at nearly the same time, and Tewksbury buried his head in her hair as much as he could with his height.
He pulled back first, because he wanted to see her face. He kept his hands on her arms, rubbing his thumbs along her upper arms.
“I missed you so much. And I was so worried about you.” She smiled widely, and he nearly threw his arms around her again.
“I missed you too. I’m so sorry, I wanted to write. The case I’m in has been much too busy for me to do anything but focus on it.” He nodded his head in understanding. He had missed her, of course, and letters would've been nice, but he knew she wanted to focus on her case.
“What are you doing here of all places? And with a fake name, too.”
Enola sighed, and it sounded equal parts amused and tired. He wondered if she had been sleeping well, and hoped she had but knew she probably had been staying up to work. “The assassin I’m looking for still hasn’t been caught, and he’s supposed to be here tonight. I saw him, and that’s why I wanted to step out.”
He frowned. “The assassin who stabbed you, you mean?” When she nodded, he took a moment to consider the idea of tearing the entire ballroom apart so he could personally find and punish the assassin who had stabbed her, before breathing deeply and scowling instead. “Why are you here alone? You could get hurt again.”
She glared at him, narrowing her eyes. “I can handle myself. I’ll be just fine, thank you.”
“Well last time you said that was when you were stabbed, so I’m sorry if I’m a bit worried.” Enola jerked her arms out of his grip, and his hands instantly felt colder.
“That was a mistake that won’t happen again.”
“A mistake? A mistake is getting on the wrong train, not getting your head bashed in and stabbed, and bleeding out in an alleyway.” Their voices were steadily rising, but Tewskbury didn't care. He couldn’t believe she felt such little indifference towards nearly dying.
Her gaze hardened further and she crossed her arms, brows tightly furrowed. “Well, as I said, it won’t happen again. I’m here to catch him, and I can handle this, whether or not you think so.”
Tewksbury's jaw dropped in disbelief. The idea of him not believing in her was the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “This isn’t about me having faith in you. I think you’re fully capable of doing anything you’d like. This is about me finding you bleeding in an alley and thinking you were going to die, and not wanting to live through that again!”
Her eyes widened and he realized he had been nearly shouting. She opened her mouth to say something, maybe to shout or maybe to just to call him a sentimental idiot, but both froze as they heard footsteps nearing.
Enola looked behind the corner of the hallway they stood in, and when she stepped back towards him her eyes were wide and apologetic.
“Sorry for this. I’ll explain later,” Her voice was a near whisper and he had to lean closer to hear her.
“What-” He wasn’t able to finish his question before she was firmly pressing herself against the wall and pulling him towards her by the front of his coat.
He didn’t have time to blink before her lips were on his.
Tewksbury’s eyes bulged before they closed entirely and he savored the feeling of her lips against his. They were soft, and warm, and she pulled him even closer as he began to kiss back.
Her hand came up to rest on his jaw, and he nearly fainted at the feeling of her soft fingers against his face. He tried to focus on her rather than her hand, pressing his body closer, one hand winding behind her back and pulling her flush to him while the other wove into her hair. Her hand mirrored the action, moving behind his neck and resting against the small hair there.
Her mouth moved against him, and he felt her sigh against his lips. Her mouth was warm and tasted of wine and chocolate. It was absolutely the best thing he had ever tasted.
He barely noticed the footsteps behind them receding, having taken no notice of them. When she pulled back from the kiss, whoever had been in the hall with them was gone.
The look on her face was dazed, and she gently pushed against his chest until he understood and stepped back.
“Sorry. The assassin was coming. I couldn’t let him see me.” His chest caved in at those words, but he covered it with a shaky smile.
“Right. Of course.”
She placed her hand on his arm, gentle and warm. “I’ll be careful with him, I swear. I won’t get hurt, and nothing will happen to me.”
“Alright,” Was all he could bring himself to say, and Enola gave him a weak smile before she turned and followed the assassin down the hallway. When she turned the corner and disappeared from view, he slumped against the wall, breathing as steadily as he could. He didn’t think anything would ever be the same after tonight.
Tewksbury found Enola outside of the mansion an hour later, but she was devoid of blood, and the assassin was dead at her feet. He pressed her to his chest and exhaled once, twice.
She was alright, and that was all that mattered.
v.
After the ball, neither one of them mentioned the kiss. It was easy not too, when Enola was gone and they only talked through letters, but it still weighed down over Tewksbury. It was always in the back of his mind: the feel of her, the heat and taste of her mouth, her hair beneath his fingers.
She had at least begun writing to him more often. He understood the lack of letters in the past, with her case-working taking up the entirety of her focus and days, but he appreciated that she was trying to bridge the gap between the month long separation.
And she seemed to understand now how terrified he had been to find her bleeding and then gone the next day. She may have brushed aside her injury, but it was constantly in Tewksbury’s nightmares: finding her bleeding out, or worse, already dead from her injuries.
Her letters mostly consisted of vague details of the case and what she wished they could be doing together. She couldn’t be too specific lest a spy somehow finds one of the letters, not that it had happened yet. His responses were always accompanied with a pressed flower.
Her most recent letter had been to tell him that she was coming home, and with a surprise. He waits patiently each day after receiving her letter in his room, since she had given no instructions of a meeting spot. He was half asleep one night when a knock startled him awake, and he nearly fell out of bed upon seeing Enola in his window.
“Enola! Did you climb up here?” He stood from his bed, ready to help her up, but she was already coming over the sill and into the room, moving to sit on his bed without a care.
He supposed after nearly bleeding out on his bed and kissing him at the ball she didn’t exactly care about proprietary between them.
“Yes, I did. It seemed faster than coming through the front door.”
He looked at her in blatant confusion. “You thought scaling my house was faster than using the front door?”
She blinked as if his question was absurd. “Yes?”
He shook his head. There was no use trying to pretend there would be a day when Enola Holmes wouldn’t surprise or amaze him.
“Alright then, I suppose. What’s that?” She had a letter clutched firmly in her hand, and she waved it excitedly as he spoke.
“It’s my surprise. I think it’s rather boring, but I’m sure you’ll love it. Here, let me read.” He nodded and sat beside her, and she cleared her throat before dramatically reading the letter aloud. “Dear Miss Holmes. We thank you for your hard work in so many cases for the past few months. You’re truly one of our best,” She paused to send him an ecstatic smile and he grinned in response. “We implore that you take some sort of vacation for all of your hard work, a least for a few short weeks to months. Knowing you and your brother, it’ll be closer to weeks rather than months. It goes on and on, but that’s the important bit. The police are insisting that I take a break from detective work.”
She rolled her eyes, but a grin was slowly forming on his face. Enola was going to be home for the next few weeks, and there was no case that was going to drag her away.
“I think it sounds positively dreadful to have no case work to do, but I know you’ll be excited to have me,” Her tone was mostly teasing, but there's a note of vulnerability he never would have expected to hear.
“Of course I’m overjoyed! And we can solve our own cases and mysteries, if you’d like! You’re really going to be here for weeks, possibly months?”
She giggled at his enthusiasm, and his chest glowed at the noise. “Yes, you nincompoop. I’m actually staying.”
He can’t resist pulling her into a hug, and she let out a small inhale of surprise before moving to hug him back. They swayed gently in embrace atop his bed, both laughing and happy.
When Tewksbury pulled back, he paused upon seeing how close their faces were. Enola seemed to do the same.
“Did you ever wonder why I always had red roses around? And why I gave you one, all that time ago?” His voice was quiet. He didn’t want to mess this up. “Surely you know the meaning of them.”
A gentle dusting of pink rested over her cheeks, and he wanted to trace the blush, so he did. She flushed deeper at his gentle fingers touching her cheek, but her voice was steady when she spoke.
“Red roses symbolize love, usually a confession of it.”
He nodded. “I gave you one once, a year and however many months ago. Did you know what it meant then?”
She inhaled. “Yes, but I never quite thought you meant it.”
Tewksbury tilted his head. “Why is that?”
“I’m Enola Holmes, wild and messy and completely unladylike,” She stated it as if it was entirely obvious, as if those weren’t reasons he loved her. “I leave every month for a case and leave you to find me bleeding out in alleyways after getting stabbed.”
“And I love you for all of those things.” Enola inhaled sharply. Her eyes flashed between his and his lips, and he unconsciously drew closer to her.
“That day, at the ball, I didn’t just kiss you because the assassin was there,” She whispered, breath gentle against his lips. As quiet as her voice was, it was still solid and bold and seemed to fill the room, just as it always did. He smiled affectionately, looking at her as if she was the entire sun lighting his world. “I kissed you because I wanted to as well.”
“Well, when have you ever done something you didn’t want to do?” He murmured, and it was the last thing he said before she dove forward and captured his lips with hers.
It was so similar to that night at the ball. The only thing that mattered was Enola, and her warm, eager mouth and her soft hair beneath his fingers. As Tewksbury leaned into her more, trying to kiss her deeper, she began to tilt back, and he twisted them so she was lying flat on his bed.
He knew the amount of trouble they could be in for being in such a position, but it didn't matter. What mattered was her hand against his jaw, and her hip under his. Her body brushed against his, lips still moving fervently, and neither minded as the letter telling them Enola would be coming home crumpled beneath her shoulder.