Chapter Text
Annaliése Amélie Moore is a dear in the society. At least that’s what some people like to call her. Born into the Moore family, she was expected to grow up as a proper lady, whatever proper means in their eyes. And so she did. Or at least she half-ly did, if that’s even the right word to describe it. Annaliése Amélie Moore could easily blend into the crowd of a ball. Dancing on her feet, her hand brushed against the gent's shoulders as she twirled onto the other with the grace of a former ballerina. Just like the meaning of her name, Graced with God’s Bounty.
You see, Annaliése did grow up as a proper lady but that itself wasn’t enough in the public eye. Some would say that to be seen, a woman such as herself would need to find herself a suitor, a husband to provide for her which she found as such a dulling mindset. Is not the idea of having a husband that aggravates her nor was it the idea of loving someone with such honesty and innocent purpose, for Anneliése, was someone who once yearned to love although she seemed to give up on that long ago.
But would she? Would she be seen as an individual if she ever found herself a husband who will provide for her? Would people finally acknowledge her tremendous mind? In the truth of her mind, she didn’t think so. Even if she found herself a name, all of those will get credited to her husband because what a man he is for getting himself a woman like her. And of course, it wasn’t the man’s fault, no it’s not. It was the society and the world she grew up in that was at fault.
She changed her whole demeanour as she realised the deep thought she was in had brought a scowl on her face. Putting back a smile, she muttered a small apology to her companion whom she was waltzing with. Although, that didn’t last long as her eyes caught a familiar pair of eyes who was also waltzing not even five feet from her.
What is he doing here? She found herself asking the question that she already knew the answer to.
Not even a minute later, she twirled around and landed in the arms of a man that she once had the privilege of being close with. She said nothing and let him lead the dance for the night. And it seems that the same idea appeared inside his head. His arm fits flawlessly around her waist as he dips her before the proximity of their body becomes closer as she faces him again.
“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence tonight, Mr. Holmes?” She asked, breath fanning the side of his face as she could feel him tense under the sound of her voice which brought a small smirk to her face.
“I was hoping to find you here. I heard you are finally back from France.” The lie rolled out of his mouth so naturally, as if he just received the news of her arrival earlier the day when in fact he had known exactly that she first arrived back a month ago.
The orchestra faded as the dance came to an end, the two friends facing one another. The two friends that have a well-known face in the public eye. Her eyes met his once more, daring him to say something more about his unwelcome presence. “It seems that the news has gotten a bit late for you. I’ve been back for a month, Mr. Holmes. Now if you really don’t have anything more to say to me, I will excuse myself and let you get on with whatever case you are on right now.” She said, already preparing to take a step away from him when the man himself took a step forward causing her to slap his chest out of instinct.
“Now what are you thinking you’re doing?” She asked once more. Sherlock only smiled slightly at the people around them, before grabbing her by the forearm and leading her away from the crowd. “Sherlock!” She yelped, and tried to look over her shoulders, perhaps one of the guests there would notice that a man had taken her away without her will. But then again, everyone recognizes Sherlock Holmes, and who would dare to question his integrity, at least that’s not what the general public would do.
The man leaned forward to her shoulders. “My mother and sister are missing.” He said, finally letting go of her once they are far enough from the others. She turned to look at him, taking in the information. Although she had never met Enola, she did get the privilege to meet the amazing mother of the Holmes family once. Hearing them go missing isn't precisely how she expected herself to meet him again.
Sherlock Holmes is never one to waste time in striking up a conversation. Always getting to the point of it. She might be used to it by now. But she couldn't help but feel that it was a bit much for the man to dump the information on her after not even acknowledging her existence for the last two-three years.
“What happened?” She questioned with concern laced in her words.
Sherlock turned slightly, making sure that no one are listening to their private conversation. It would be such a nuisance if the news had gotten out to the public. Sherlock Holmes’s sister and mother were missing. People sure would get the chance to ruin his reputation. Even more, if they had known that at least one of them are running away from her own family.
“If we could go to your place-”
“There’s no such thing as you being in my place,” She exclaimed. “What makes you think I’ll welcome you, Sherlock Holmes? Was it because of your name? Does being a genius renowned detective give you the privilege of being anywhere anytime you want? You could’ve at least told me what your intention was before asking such a question.”
“Anna, I-” He halted and she raised her eyebrow at the nickname he uttered. He looked away for a bit. She could sense him hesitating to say the words. “I need-I need your help.”
And within those four words, she found herself letting him back into her life. That was a decision that might get her hurt but surely not one that she will wish undone.
***
“So you’re saying that your mother left home leaving young Enola behind? And Enola ran away the day after meeting her two brothers for so many years?”
She took a seat, finger trailing the rim of her teacup as she stared at the man in front of her. Although Sherlock’s eyes seemed to have more interest in looking around her flat. He only nodded slightly in her direction without taking his eyes away. Without even saying anything, Annaliése had already known what was in his mind. There’s no point in hiding something from the Sherlock Holmes.
“I mean not to be insensitive, but I would’ve done the same if I had a misogynist of a person as my brother. Not to mention that Mycroft tried to force her into these lady-ish traits. You do see the problem here, don’t you?” She asked him. And this was when Sherlock decided to turn to look at her directly with one of his eyebrows raised in a questioning manner.
“Don’t look at me like that. There is a difference in our situation. I was educated that way since I was a kid, it was essentially my sole purpose in life to become a lady or so they said, whereas Enola wasn’t. So you could imagine her horror of being forced into something that she isn’t used to.” She explained.
“You’ve met her.” Those are the first three words he uttered after being quiet for some time
“What?” She questioned.
“Enola. She had come to you, did she not?” He leaned forward, propping his elbow on the table. She only stared at him as he stared back, both not making a single move. “She’s my sister, Annaliése.” He said.
She was silently debating on what to and what not to say. Each word she uses would reveal yet another thing about her. She thought about the young woman who had come to her early that day, at first glance she didn't recognize who it was. But by opening her mouth, Enola had revealed her identity without even saying her name. It wasn’t very difficult for Annaliése to recognize a Holmes just by the way they were speaking.
There was indeed nothing you could try to hide from Sherlock Holmes. And it’s not necessarily hiding something when the man hadn’t asked her the question and she answered with the truth of it. Downcasted her gaze, she spoke out. “If you truly cared for her, you would’ve made her your ward instead of Mycroft’s. I know you have problems connecting with other people, but just like you said. She is your sister.”
“And Mycroft is my brother.” He replied.
Anneliése scoffed at the words that he just uttered. “In that case, I think both of us know that he’s not really the best in that category.” She stood up and walked over to the other side of the room, putting her cup down on the kitchen table. “You’ve figured out that Enola had come to me just by stepping into my flat. You sure will be able to figure out that I sincerely don’t know about her where being at the moment.” She looked over her shoulder at him.
“I met Edith.” He said, suddenly.
“Who?”
“My mother’s friend. Called me an ostrich for being alone. Enola had come to her too, my mother had led her there. So tell me Annaliése, why mother led Enola to you? Furthermore, why did she send two letters to you?” He stood up from his seat, making his way to get closer to her.
She straightened her back, furrowing her eyebrows in irritation. Anneliése does not like how he worded the sentence against her. “I don’t understand. You keep asking questions, you already know the answer to.” She stepped forward towards him. With one finger up, she pointed to his chest. “You came to me in the middle of a dance, practically ruined my night. I invited you to my flat because you said you are in need of my help and now you’re accusing me.” She said.
“Of what?” He asked, leaning down ever so slightly. “What am I accusing you of?”
“I am not hiding anything from you.” She stated, not breaking her eyes away from him now that they were practically chest to chest. He did the same, although his eyes seemed to soften, knowing that she is, in fact, telling the truth. However, his mouth seemed to lose its ability to speak under her stern gaze. The topic of the night had spiralled from one to another in a quick ill-mannered way. That was his fault, undoubtedly.
“If you are stressed, I beg you not to let it out on me. Take a walk, Sherlock. Clear your head, you’re in need of it.” Those are the last words spoken to her that night before she turned her back on him and went out of the room. Leaving the man standing in the middle of it. And Annaliése was already in her room when the sound of the front door being closed was heard.
Sherlock lingered in front of the door for quite a long time, pondering whether he should go back in there or not before he turned around and walked away from the place. This was not how he wanted the reunion to be.