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My friend, Sherlock Holmes, rarely talks about his family. I think he's quite secretive about it even though I'm a close friend he has. His family is another mystery about him to me that I want to solve even if it's a bit of an invasion of his privacy. Seeing his sometimes arbitrary behaviour made me think that he was an only child, not until I read the news with Mycroft Holmes's name in the title. Only then did I find out that he had a brother who was quite an important person in the government.
Even though Sherlock acknowledged Mycroft was his brother, he didn't tell me much other than that Mycroft was several years older than him. Maybe because of the age difference that is quite far that makes the two of them not too close. Or maybe there's something else he doesn't want to talk about. Perhaps so. I myself am not very close to my brother either, you guys will understand why I don't like talking about my family either.
After a few months of living with him, I decided not to be too curious about his family anymore unless he wanted to tell me about it himself. Not because I give up, it just feels disrespectful to his privacy.
Until a telegram from Mrs Lane came to be directed to Sherlock.
Sherlock received the telegram. The lazy expression on his face turned serious after reading it. He folded the telegram and entered his room before coming out neatly dressed and carrying his suitcase.
"Where are you going?" I asked curiously.
"Back to my hometown, there's a bit of an issue there," he replied while adjusting his tie.
"Issue?"
"My mother disappeared."
"What!?"
“And leaving my sister alone,” he added.
"Sister??! You have a sister?" That's probably the most shocking news I've heard this week, and it's still Monday.
"Not now, Watson." Sherlock grabbed his coat and wand. "I'll be gone for a few days, enjoy the time without me as best you can."
He then stepped outside, leaving me who fell awestruck.
Now, knowing Sherlock, I wouldn't say he was worried by the news but he certainly was. I don't think the relationship with his family is that poor, perhaps the Holmes family have their own busy lives so they don't have time to just keep in touch with each other. Seems awful but who am I to judge?
Still doesn't explain why he never told me about them. Was it because I never asked him before?
For a couple of days, I was alone while waiting for Sherlock with his good news, slightly enjoying the room which looked a bit tidier than when he was here. Now, I may not be a great cleaner, but I'm pretty sure I am a little tidier than Sherlock. I will not hesitate to say that I enjoyed every second without him, even though every second of it was quite torturous for me.
My mind always runs to the fact that Sherlock turns out to be the middle child and he has a younger sister whom I'm guessing is very much younger than him. Then he also has a mother, which I shouldn't be too surprised about, but that was still new information for me. I know this seems like an exaggeration, but, bloody holy! Sherlock still has a family.
By the time his back, his face still looks serious as usual although I can also see the tired lines there. For someone who never showed emotion, this was the first time I saw him uneasy.
"Enjoying time without me, Watson?" asked he.
I lifted my hand and gestured around the room. "You can see for yourself."
Sherlock smiled slightly. He then excuse himself to go to his room to put away his things before returning and sitting down on his armchair carrying a pinecone wrapped with woollen thread and which had been fashioned into the shape of either a rabbit, a hedgehog, or a dog; just like the work of a five-year-old child.
Sherlock was quiet while observing the pinecone closely. Sometimes I see a smile tugging at his lips with a softened face, something I've never seen before.
I couldn't contain my curiosity.
"What's that?" I asked.
Sherlock who was too deep in his thoughts turned to me and smiled apologising.
"Ah, sorry, Watson, I was too absorbed in memories to forget that you seem to be waiting for a story from me. For your question, this is Dash,” he held the pinecone high so I can see it clearly. "My sister, Enola, made it when she was soo young and always carries it around, imagining it to be a dog just like Queen Victoria's."
A smile never left his lips while his eyes glistened as he spoke. Just like when he explained to me a case that really caught his attention, the difference is maybe this time the words he issued were full of the warmth of a family. It's nice to see the brotherly side of Sherlock.
"You're a good brother, Sherlock."
Right after I said that the smile on Sherlock's face vanished and was replaced by a gloomy face.
"Maybe if I didn't keep myself busy and visited her a bit," he said. The difference in the atmosphere made me slightly uncomfortable. Did something happen to his sister as well?
“Enola, she was raised alone by our Mother, Eudoria. Our father past away when Enola was too young to understand loss while I and Mycroft choose to move out from Ferndell Hall not long after that. Mother decided to teach everything to Enola herself, and her efforts paid off because Enola herself grew up to be a very smart girl so she could do her own deducing."
Sherlock carefully puts 'Dash' on the table. His fingers fondly rubbed 'Dash''s back as gently as possible as if it was a living thing.
I guess I'm not that surprised to know that Enola is a smart girl considering that her two brothers are very intelligent people. Maybe the Holmes family is indeed endowed with an intelligence that is above the average human. I'm so curious about how their mother educates them so that their children can grow up this smart.
"He knew that Mother left and had no intention of coming back, she just asked to prove her deduction is wrong which sadly isn't."
"Good grief!" I shouted. "What kind of mother could leave her daughter at home alone?"
Sherlock smiled faintly. "My mother always has a reason for everything, Watson, that's what's so interesting about her; a mystery that's quite amusing to think about."
That doesn't mean it can be justified like that. It is still wrong even for an outsider like me. If his mother was this unorthodox, I can't imagine how his father would be.
“Then, how about Enola? Does she live with your brother now?”
Sherlock chuckled. "Like the two of them can just put up with each other."
It confused me. Do these siblings have such a problem that they rarely contact each other?
"Our ways of seeing the world are different, Watson. Enola has grown up to be an independent woman who loves freedom."
Ah, a girl like that. "So?"
"Mycroft wanted him to go to boarding school, which of course she absolutely didn't want it."
Another confusion strikes me. Wouldn't it be great for Enola to go to boarding school? Wouldn't she be able to get a better education than before? I mean, I remember a group of women who protested and wanted a proper education for themselves which of course I agreed to.
"Why won't Enola?"
"Oh, Watsons." Sherlock shook his head. "The boarding school you have in mind is probably different from the one Mycroft has."
Different? Well... I don't really know much about the different kinds of schools that exist. I admit that my understanding of women is not that much because I spend all of my life only focused on my own goals and working hard to live.
"That's not important, what's important is that Enola ran away wearing my old clothes to look for Mother even though the facts made it clear that Mother didn't want to be found. And seeing how smart she is at erasing traces, I think she has a clue as to her whereabouts.”
"Ran away?" I was stunned for a moment. "Okay, that's a dangerous decision, how old is she now, Sherlock?"
"16 years."
“16- wait, what? You tell me that your sister, who spends all of her life living in your home, wandering to the middle of nowhere just to find your mother who doesn't want to be met at all.”
“You really are good at making a po-”
“SHERLOCK, IT’S TOO DANGEROUS!!”
Sherlock waved his hand. “Hush, Watson. I know that, but right now it's not me who has control over Enola, Mycroft does, so whatever happens to Enola is Mycroft's responsibility.”
"So you're just going to let her be?" I shouted. “Sherlock, you've been ignoring her for so long and now you're going to do it too? What if something bad happened to her?”
Sherlock pondered for a moment, his lips pursed together as his brow furrowed. He then turned his attention to 'Dash' for a few moments before looking down at his beloved violin.
"Sorry, Watson," he muttered before picking up his violin and starting to play.
I do not believe this. Is he really just going to be fixated on the very mysterious disappearance of his mother compared to his sister? I knew that guy was a machine but I didn't think he would be that cruel even to his own family. Even I still feel pity for my own brother.
I hope Enola is okay out there.
Almost all day he plays with his violin non-stop. He was too absorbed in his thoughts to ignore Lestade who came with a representative from the
My friend, Sherlock Holmes, rarely talks about his family. I think he's quite secretive about it even though I'm a close friend he has. His family is another mystery about him to me that I want to solve even if it's a bit of an invasion of his privacy. Seeing his sometimes arbitrary behaviour made me think that he was an only child, not until I read the news with Mycroft Holmes's name in the title. Only then did I find out that he had a brother who was quite an important person in the government.
Even though Sherlock acknowledged Mycroft was his brother, he didn't tell me much other than that Mycroft was several years older than him. Maybe because of the age difference that is quite far that makes the two of them not too close. Or maybe there's something else he doesn't want to talk about. Perhaps so. I myself am not very close to my brother either, you guys will understand why I don't like talking about my family either.
After a few months of living with him, I decided not to be too curious about his family anymore unless he wanted to tell me about it himself. Not because I give up, it just feels disrespectful to his privacy. Until a telegram from Mrs Lane came to be directed to Sherlock.
Sherlock received the telegram. The lazy expression on his face turned serious after reading it. He folded the telegram and entered his room before coming out neatly dressed and carrying his suitcase.
"Where are you going?" I asked curiously.
"Back to my hometown, there's a bit of an issue there," he replied while adjusting his tie.
"Issue?"
"My mother disappeared."
"What!?"
“And leaving my sister alone,” he added.
"Sister??! You have a sister?" That's probably the most shocking news I've heard this week, and it's still Monday.
"Not now, Watson." Sherlock grabbed his coat and wand. "I'll be gone for a few days, enjoy the time without me as best you can."
He then stepped outside, leaving me who fell awestruck.
Now, knowing Sherlock, I wouldn't say he was worried by the news but he certainly was. I don't think the relationship with his family is that poor, perhaps the Holmes family have their own busy lives so they don't have time to just keep in touch with each other. Seems awful but who am I to judge?
Still doesn't explain why he never told me about them. Was it because I never asked him before?
For a couple of days, I was alone while waiting for Sherlock with his good news, slightly enjoying the room which looked a bit tidier than when he was here. Now, I may not be a great cleaner, but I'm pretty sure I am a little tidier than Sherlock. I will not hesitate to say that I enjoyed every second without him, even though every second of it was quite torturous for me.
My mind always runs to the fact that Sherlock turns out to be the middle child and he has a younger sister whom I'm guessing is very much younger than him. Then he also has a mother, which I shouldn't be too surprised about, but that was still new information for me. I know this seems like an exaggeration, but, bloody holy! Sherlock still has a family.
By the time his back, his face still looks serious as usual although I can also see the tired lines there. For someone who never showed emotion, this was the first time I saw him uneasy.
"Enjoying time without me, Watson?" asked he.
I lifted my hand and gestured around the room. "You can see for yourself."
Sherlock smiled slightly. He then excuse himself to go to his room to put away his things before returning and sitting down on his armchair carrying a pinecone wrapped with woollen thread and which had been fashioned into the shape of either a rabbit, a hedgehog, or a dog; just like the work of a five-year-old child.
Sherlock was quiet while observing the pinecone closely. Sometimes I see a smile tugging at his lips with a softened face, something I've never seen before.
I couldn't contain my curiosity.
"What's that?" I asked.
Sherlock who was too deep in his thoughts turned to me and smiled apologising.
"Ah, sorry, Watson, I was too absorbed in memories to forget that you seem to be waiting for a story from me. For your question, this is Dash,” he held the pinecone high so I can see it clearly. "My sister, Enola, made it when she was soo young and always carries it around, imagining it to be a dog just like Queen Victoria's."
A smile never left his lips while his eyes glistened as he spoke. Just like when he explained to me a case that really caught his attention, the difference is maybe this time the words he issued were full of the warmth of a family. It's nice to see the brotherly side of Sherlock.
"You're a good brother, Sherlock."
Right after I said that the smile on Sherlock's face vanished and was replaced by a gloomy face.
"Maybe if I didn't keep myself busy and visited him a bit," he said. The difference in the atmosphere made me slightly uncomfortable. Did something happen to his sister as well?
“Enola, she was raised alone by our Mother, Eudoria. Our father past away when Enola was too young to understand loss while I and Mycroft choose to move out from Ferndell Hall not long after that. Mother decided to teach everything to Enola herself, and her efforts paid off because Enola herself grew up to be a very smart girl so she could do her own deducing."
Sherlock carefully puts 'Dash' on the table. His fingers fondly rubbed 'Dash''s back as gently as possible as if it was a living thing.
I guess I'm not that surprised to know that Enola is a smart girl considering that her two brothers are very intelligent people. Maybe the Holmes family is indeed endowed with an intelligence that is above the average human. I'm so curious about how their mother educates them so that their children can grow up this smart.
"He knew that Mother left and had no intention of coming back, she just asked to prove her deduction is wrong which sadly isn't."
"Good grief!" I shouted. "What kind of mother could leave her daughter at home alone?"
Sherlock smiled faintly. "My mother always has a reason for everything, Watson, that's what's so interesting about her; a mystery that's quite amusing to think about."
That doesn't mean it can be justified like that. It is still wrong even for an outsider like me. If his mother was this unorthodox, I can't imagine how his father would be.
“Then, how about Enola? Does she live with your brother now?”
Sherlock chuckled. "Like the two of them can just put up with each other."
It confused me. Do these siblings have such a problem that they rarely contact each other?
"Our ways of seeing the world are different, Watson. Enola has grown up to be an independent woman who loves freedom."
Ah, a girl like that. "So?"
"Mycroft wanted him to go to boarding school, which of course she absolutely didn't want it."
Another confusion strikes me. Wouldn't it be great for Enola to go to boarding school? Wouldn't she be able to get a better education than before? I mean, I remember a group of women who protested and wanted a proper education for themselves which of course I agreed to.
"Why won't Enola?"
"Oh, Watsons." Sherlock shook his head. "The boarding school you have in mind is probably different from the one Mycroft has."
Different? Well... I don't really know much about the different kinds of schools that exist. I admit that my understanding of women is not that much. I spend all of my life only focused on my own goals and worked hard to live.
"That's not important, what's important is that Enola ran away wearing my old clothes to look for Mother even though the facts made it clear that Mother didn't want to be found out. And seeing how smart she is at erasing traces, I think she has a clue as to her whereabouts.”
"Ran away?" I was stunned for a moment. "Okay, that's a dangerous decision, how old is she now, Sherlock?"
"16 years."
“16- wait, what? You tell me that your sister, who spends all of her life living in your home, wandering to the middle of nowhere just to find your mother who doesn't want to be met at all.”
“You really are good at making a po-”
“SHERLOCK, IT’S TOO DANGEROUS!!”
Sherlock waved his hand. “Hush, Watson. I know that, but right now it's not me who has control over Enola, Mycroft does, so whatever happens to Enola is Mycroft's responsibility.”
"So you're just going to let her be?" I shouted. “Sherlock, you've been ignoring her for so long and now you're going to do it too? What if something bad happened to her?”
Sherlock pondered for a moment, his lips pursed together as his brow furrowed. He then turned his attention to 'Dash' for a few moments before looking down at his beloved violin.
"Sorry, Watson," he muttered before picking up his fiddle and starting to play.
I do not believe this. Is he really just going to be fixated on the very mysterious disappearance of his mother compared to his sister? I knew that guy was a machine but I didn't think he would be that cruel even to his own family. Even I still feel pity for my brother.
I hope the Enola is okay out there.
Almost all day he plays with his violin non-stop. He was too absorbed in his thoughts to ignore Lestade who came with a representative from the Tewksbury family from Basilwether who asked for help in finding the missing Viscount, which of course they had to accept the harsh reality that Sherlock didn't want to take it.
After all, it didn't seem like searching for a missing Viscount would entertain Sherlock. The case would be too simple for his mystery-hungry brain, while his mother's case is fine dining.
I don't know, I don't care. I'm too pissed with the fact that he doesn't even have any emotions even for his own family. I thought when he told me about 'Dash' that he at least has a good relationship with his siblings.
He really only uses his brain to think about cases or puzzles.
It wasn't until I was reading in the sitting room that Sherlock came out of his bedroom fully clothed.
"Watson, do you want to come with me?" he offered.
I distracted myself from the news about two boys who were seen jumping from the train and it is not known what their fate is now. Even though I'm still annoyed, it can't be denied that my curiosity about the disappearance of the mother of the Holmes siblings is enough to make me can't sleep. Besides, it's sunny outside, and it looks like it's a pleasant time to go out for a walk. So, giving a small nod, I then grabbed my coat and cane and the two of us headed out. Sherlock called a taxi, it seems the destination this time will be quite far.
Throughout the trip, Sherlock was still quiet as usual which meant there was still something on his mind. I decided to let him be since he doesn't like being disturbed in his mind castle. Until finally the taxi stopped in front of a tea shop that looks quite simple. ‘TEA ROOMS Dining, Smoking & Reading Rooms Upstairs’ well, that looks interesting.
The bell jingled as we entered, and the aroma of spices and cake easily teased my nostrils and made me want to taste it. There is a cupboard full of books around the light blue walls while the round tables are in the middle of the room. Inside it looks quite crowded with women who are enjoying a cup of tea while chatting with each other or reading books, there is also an old man who is engrossed in smoking at one table.
"Excuse me, ma'am," said Sherlock to one of the waitress who was very old but still looked lively.
The woman who was pouring tea for her customers turned to us and smiled warmly. "Is there anything I can help you with, gentlemen?"
"Is Miss Edith Grayston here?"
The woman tapped her fingers lightly. “She will probably arrive soon, you can wait for her while enjoying a cup of tea.”
"Thank you, we will really appreciate it."
The lady then showed us an empty table. I sat on the chair while looking back at the simple interior of this tea shop, on the other side Sherlock was more interested in seeing the collection of books provided there. Sometimes he would pull out a book and open it for a moment before smirking and putting it back in. It made me interested to give a look at the books provided there.
I was barely a few pages from the book I was reading when the shop door opened again and entered a black woman with a fairly stocky build body. Her steps were light but swift, and her smile gave off a warm impression to anyone who saw her.
"Grab a book and have a seat, and I'll be with you as soon as I'm free," she said to Sherlock while serving a customer before walking towards the kitchen. It seemed she was Miss Grayston that Sherlock had been looking for.
"Delightful," said Sherlock as he turned his body towards Miss Grayston. "Perhaps you could join me for a tea."
Miss Grayston stopped walking and looked at Sherlock, her warm gaze quickly turned cold and wary of knowing who wanted to talk to her.
"I advise you not to walk away," suggested Sherlock who of course was ignored by the woman as she continued walking towards the kitchen.
Sherlock gazed at me for a moment before taking a step towards the kitchen. I put back the book I was reading and followed them into the kitchen.
The kitchen itself is full of a cupboard containing China teapots and cups. On a counter, some cakes have been cut neatly. The stove was boiling water for tea while the two existing ovens were baking cakes. This place feels warm but not stuffy knowing the ventilation there is running well.
"Whatever you think you know, Sherlock Holmes," Miss Grayston took a carafe of porcelain teapot from the kitchen table and pointed it at Sherlock. “please be advised that if you disturb any of my customers-“
"You'd hurt me badly?"
Miss Grayston was silent with the teapot now pointed at me and Sherlock.
“I am well aware of your talent, Miss Grayston. The question is, what would you risk if I were to advise my friends in the government to take a look at this place? I know my brother would be delighted to browse your secret, dangerous, and extremely banned bookshelves."
In his hand, Sherlock showed a book entitled 'A Handbook For Women Engaged In Social And Political Work'. One of the books that sparked debate in various circles, especially the government and men.
For me, I don't think there's anything wrong with allowing women to interfere with men's affairs as long as they can. When I was still in the army, I once stopped in a country where women had the same authority as men. I've also seen women who fought and even defeated quite several male soldiers which left me quite amazed. At least I learned that there are some things women can actually do if they want to.
Miss Grayston snorted in annoyance, she was still looking at Sherlock as if considering his threat just now.
“You see. We can both hurt each other. Now, please put the teapot down. In your hands, it is a mighty weapon," said Sherlock, looking at the teapot seriously.
Miss Grayston smiled slightly at that, but it was only a blink before she complied and placed the teapot onto a tray.
"Thank you. Do you have any sense as to where my mother is?” asked Sherlock starting his interrogation.
I should have known his purpose here was to find his mother.
"How did you find me?" Miss Grayston asked back while preparing tea for her customers. However, the customers were waiting and Sherlock did come at a fairly busy time for a tea shop worker like her.
“Letters hidden up her chimney. The ash on the sole of her shoe and the coal dust led me to them," answered Sherlock in a tone as if it was an easy thing for him, and indeed it was an easy thing for him.
Miss Grayston poured hot water into the teapot while smiling crookedly. “She always said you never missed anything.”
I'm guessing that Miss Grayston is quite close to Mrs Holmes, and by her casual demeanour, she seems to know quite well where Sherlock's mother has gone.
"She needs to be home," said Sherlock. “She has a daughter that needs her.”
My eyes blink slowly. Everyone would probably say that Sherlock had spoken in a fairly flat tone, but I'm pretty sure there was a hint of an imploring tone which again I rarely hear when he mentions his sister.
Perhaps I'm wrong. Perhaps Sherlock really cares about his younger sister. Is it possible that he decided to focus on finding his mother, not only because this case is not that simple, but also for his sister who has now disappeared somewhere. It made me smile faintly without realizing it.
“Enola seems to be surviving perfectly well on her own,” said Miss Grayston.
"So you've seen her?" Sherlock's serious face softened slightly at the fact that his sister was in London. "Is she safe?" he asked again after a few seconds of silence.
“She's had company, a useless boy. But clearly, she didn't feel like she needed him," explained Miss Grayston. "Enola is on her own path, and so, for better or for worse, is Eudoria."
"Whatever mischief you-" Sherlock stepped forward only to be stopped by Miss Grayston's voice.
“Mischiefs?!” Miss Grayston's body straightened as her gaze grew sharp. “A poor choice of words. Try not to sound like your brother."
Her words made me a little curious about Sherlock's brother because Miss Grayston clearly didn't like him. Doesn't Mycroft work for the government? Of course, he wouldn't be that bad until Sherlock himself didn't like being compared to him. But isn't it like that sometimes? People didn't like to equate or compare their brother or their sister. I myself would also be very annoyed if people start to compare me with my brother.
“You haven’t any hope of understanding any of this. You do know that?”
“Educate me as to why.”
There was a feeling of relief hearing Sherlock himself looked confused about that. He folded his hands forward to show a polite attitude. After all, this woman has answers to her mother's whereabouts and possibly Enola's whereabouts.
"Because you don't know what it is to be without power," said Miss Grayston while cutting a cake in one of the pantries. "Politics doesn't interest you. Why?”
"Because it's fatally boring."
"Because you have no interest in changing a world that suits you so well," objected Miss Grayston. Sherlock looked a little taken back hearing that, I think those words stabbed him a little.
"A pretty speech," said Sherlock.
“A scary one. You're intelligent enough to know that every word of it is true." Miss Grayston chuckled. “What a family. A lost child, a puffed-up misanthrope, a revolutionary, and yourself. No wife, not many friends, just a strange occupation obsessed with footprints and coal dust.”
I want to refute Miss Grayston's words. But my mind was too fixated on the word 'revolutionary' at that time which seemed to refer to Mrs Holmes.
Recently there has been a mysterious movement that could be considered a threat to the government. I heard that several people were arrested for supporting the movement. If Sherlock's mother was a member of the revolution it was only natural that she would want to hide and stay away from her children as much as possible.
That feels tragic considering that one of her children, Mycroft, actually works for the government. If people found out about his mother, then Mycroft's career might be on the hills. I guess that's also the reason why they decided to find out about their mother secretly, the fewer people who know the better.
“You see the world so closely, but do you see how it's changing? The reform bill is just the beginning,” said Miss Grayston.
"If it passes."
Miss Grayston gave a small nod. “I have to get back to work now, Mr Holmes. Customers to serve. Cakes to bake.”
She then carried a tray of tea and cake for her customer and stepped out. With a swift move, I got out of her way only for her to stop in the doorway and turn back to face Sherlock.
"I'm pleased you're interested, at least. Eudoria thought that you'd just ignore your sister like the ostrich you are. But I suspect that she needs you.”
She resumed her walk, eyeing me as she passed me who had only been nothing but a listener. Probably judging what side I am on here.
"So everyone keeps telling me," muttered Sherlock as he placed the book he was still holding onto a nearby table. Sherlock was still standing in place, his hands tapping on the table.
"Her words bother you?" I asked him.
"What do you think, Watson?" he said quietly.
I shrugged my shoulders. "I don't know anything about your family. As an outsider, I can't just jump to conclusions. One thing's for sure, I think Miss Grayston was right about your sister needs you."
"Why?"
“Sherlock, as your friend, I would say that while Enola looks fine she is definitely still too new to the outside world. She needs guidance, and if your brother is not what Enola expects and your mother is in a dangerous situation then you the only hope she has.”
I held his shoulders tightly. “I know that it will be very inconvenient for you, but at least it can be a payment for your ignorance.”
Sherlock smiled faintly. After pondering for a while, his face returned to the seriousness and he began to look around.
"Our business here is finished, Watson." He turned and walked out.
"You sure? You don't want to at least have a cup of tea here?” I asked, catching up to walk beside him.
Sherlock laughed before shaking his head. "I know I'll be fine, but after that conversation, I want to at least be a bit more careful."
"I don't think Miss Grayston couldn't have killed someone, could she?"
"But she could hurt someone."
I mumble in agreement. "Then, where are we headed?"
Sherlock called a passing taxi. “Limehouse Line,” he said to the coachman before stepping inside.
“Limehouse Line?” I repeated when we were already on the carriage that went straight towards that destination.
“This is just my guess. Almost all of the cups and teapots that were there earlier were made in China. And knowing that there are illegal activities on the premises, I don't want to ignore that fact as only a trace of the uniqueness of the shop. Something they must have smuggled in there impersonating the teapot and cup package, and where else could they get that other than in Limehouse.”
I almost jumped from my seat hearing Sherlock's description. Illegal activity? Smuggling? Great god, what is Mrs Holmes's plan?
My thoughts were cut off when I heard Sherlock's laugh. I wanted to scold him saying that this wasn't the time to laugh like that, but I realized that he was laughing not for a fun situation like he always did, but of my surprised face.
"I'm sorry, Watson, for someone who doesn't know my family, you may look very confused by this situation. I concede that I also just found out myself that my mother was a revolutionist which of course this news won't please Mycroft."
"What will you do if you manage to find your mother?" I asked.
“I won’t.”
“But, what if.”
Sherlock stared straight ahead while tapping his foot. He then took a deep breath before leaning back.
"I don't know," he said. “In the eyes of some public and the government, being revolutionary is wrong, but in my eyes, I know that everything she does has a valid reason. So, unless, if, she kills someone for whatever reason she has in mind, I don't think I will hesitate to put her in jail.”
"Even though it's your mother?"
"We must not get emotional when solving a case, Watson. But don't worry, I know my mother is extreme, but she can't just kill someone for the sake of her goals.”
I hope he's right because I would not have dared to see Sherlock handcuff his mother himself to be taken to prison. It was too cruel, and I can't imagine how Enola would feel if that happened.
One thing is certain, Miss Grayston was right about this family: the Holmes may not be a normal family.
.
The train stopped at the harbour gate, and then, as usual, Sherlock chose to walk while looking around. I tried to do what he did, but a harbour is a busy place and I'm sure if anything Sherlock wanted was already get erased by the footprints and caravans of workers there.
We continued walking around the harbour until we stopped at a warehouse that had been burned down with two police officers on guard. Sherlock casually approached the warehouse. But he didn't go straight into it but looked around the warehouse with cautiousness. He also took out his magnifying glass to see the around the window or the ground. Satisfied with the outside of the warehouse, he then stepped inside.
"Excuse me, sir-"
"Don't be ridiculous!"
I apologized to the two officers for how Sherlock behaved before following him.
Being in it, my nose quickly caught the smell of gunpowder around the warehouse, reminding me of when I was still in the army. I shook my head to get rid of the image that always irritates me. There are other things more important than my memories of being in the war.
Looking around, I see there were piles of wooden boxes and barrels that had been burnt and scattered on the floor, I also saw some lab equipment that had been destroyed and lying among the piles of rubble. Apart from that, I also found melted plastic inside the box.
"What caused the fire?" asked Sherlock to the two police officers who were now watching us.
"This is a fireworks factory, it looks like something went wrong causing the fireworks to go off and set fire to this warehouse or..."
"Or?" Sherlock raised his eyebrows while staring at the factory door.
“Witnesses said there was a fight between a woman and a man wearing a brown bowler hat, then the woman fled when the building started exploding. We don't know for sure, but we suspect it has something to do with this fire."
A woman?
"How does this woman look?"
“That woman looks like a woman in general, elegant and looks educated. But she's also good at martial arts because at least she can keep up with the men who attack her.”
Sherlock nodded in understanding. Even so, I can see his face a little upset, this news could mean bad for him right now. That woman can be anyone he knows.
"We'll excuse you then."
Sherlock didn't say anything until we got home. His mind is filled with various facts that keep coming and going, I think it's only a matter of time until he can string together each incident with ease as usual.
"I confess, Watson, that I have lost a key to solving this problem," he said as the day got dark.
That's rare.
"That warehouse, it's not a fireworks factory, right?"
"Glad you notice that," said Sherlock as he lit his cigarettes.
"What is that place?"
"What do you think is it, Watson?"
I gulped at his questions. I have a couple of ideas, but I prefer none of them.
"You didn't find anything in that place?" I asked, trying to divert the conversation.
"Anything that might point to my mother was probably wiped out by the fire."
“Could it be that they knew you were going there and that's why they burned it? To destroy evidence?” I guessed.
"No, the door was smashed from the outside. If even that was them, they would definitely wipe everything out, not leaving any evidence. The woman probably comes there through a window and gets to know about the explosives inside, once she is attacked, she is lucky to be thrown into the warehouse so she makes an explosion to escape. That reckless act was carried out when her life felt threatened, whoever that man was attacking her intended to kill her.”
“And that woman is...”
Sherlock looked bitter. "I hope she's not Enola."
"If it's Enola, why is she there?"
"Why, Watsons? Of course, she found a clue to Mother's whereabouts and was determined to go there because she needs to find mother. But I have no idea why she gets attacked especially by a man."
That makes me worry even more. By heaven, I've never even met that girl and I've shown concern for her. I think the feeling of sympathy runs out knowing her who knows nothing about the world and is immediately swayed by it. It felt like I was reading a novel and was so immersed in the story that I cared about the main character.
The night is getting late but I can't even close my eyes. With today's events, I don't think I'll be able to rest easy until things are resolved. Associated with feelings of anxiety towards Enola herself.
Where is she now? Is she okay? Who had attacked her last night, and what was the man in the brown bowler hat have to do with her? Then, who is the useless boy Miss Grayston refers to? A boy who was with her and then separated.
The more I think about it, the more anxious I feel and it makes it harder for me to sleep. I knew it wasn't good, so I forced my brain to shut up as I closed my eyes to sleep. Unfortunately, there's nothing I can do at this point.
It also makes me wonder how Sherlock is doing right now. I know that he always locks his emotions when he's in a case, but today I realized his emotions burst several times when his sister was mentioned. After all, he's an older brother.
It makes me wonder a bit if my brother is also worried about me but he doesn't show it. I hope so. Two days later, Sherlock handed me a telegram.
"Mycroft found her," he said simply.
I opened the telegram and read it. 'I found the girl, I will take her to boarding school. You better hurry and find Mother as well.’
"At least she's safe now," I muttered as I handed the telegram back to Sherlock.
"She's not like it."
Sherlock let out a big sigh as he looked out the window. "Before you woke up I went to see Lestrade, he was the one who found Enola in the room that girl was renting. She's with Viscount Tewksbury-"
“Viscount Tewksbury?!”
“—Yes, he's the 'useless boy' referred to by Enola. What Lestrade didn't understand was why Enola had sacrificed herself so Viscount Tewksbury could escape from the police. It's a pity that Lestrade didn't hear their conversation very well."
"You think something bad will happen?" I asked.
“Probably. Enola loves freedom and she will do anything to get it. There must be something dangerous targeting Viscount Tewksbury that makes her give up to what she hates so much.”
"Should we find out?"
"Well, if it concerns Viscount Tewksbury it must have something to do with politics."
And Sherlock doesn't want to get involved in politics at all. I thought Miss Grayston's words had moved him at least, but it seemed that once he had stuck to something, nothing would be able to shake him.
What about his sister? What if Enola is the one who said that to him? If Enola can shake him off I guess I finally find out Sherlock Holmes' only weakness and that would be amusing.
At least now that the case for Enola is closed, how about Mrs Holmes?
"She's out of reach," Sherlock said when I asked him about it. "Don't look at me like that, Watson. My mother may be an interesting and difficult puzzle, but any clues as to where her whereabouts are now completely gone. Knowing my mother, she would be found if she wanted it, and if Edith had told me I was looking for her she would have been much more careful in her steps. For now, at least we have Edith as a bridge between us and Mother.”
I nodded understanding. "You didn't try to search the Tea Rooms for clues about your mother?"
"No, I don't want to get into trouble with them."
"But, aren't you interested in the case of your mother's disappearance?"
“No, not really. I only did it because Mycroft told me to, as long as I said I didn't get any further leads he can squawk to his heart's content."
My eyebrows raised at him. If he wasn't interested in solving his mother's problems, why he didn't reject it from the start? Is it because the one asking for it is his own brother?
Sherlock was pensive in his seat, something I'm used to seeing. But this time his eyes were fixed on 'Dash', twirling the pinecone in his hands. Sometimes I saw him smile, but it was his serious gaze that came out more often. Looking at that makes something hit me in the face. Why I didn't realize it sooner? He didn't look for his mother, but for his sister. Good grief, why he didn't just tell me?
On the next day, I saw he was fully dressed early in the morning.
"Where are you going?" I asked, who had just woken up.
“Visiting Enola,” he replied. “There is something I want to confirm.”
But my eyes caught a white handkerchief with something wrapped in it which he tucked carefully into his jacket pocket. I also noticed the absence of 'Dash' where it used to be. Perhaps more precisely, there was something he wanted to tell Enola.
I let him go without saying anything.
Trying to keep myself busy by reading today's article, I closed it again knowing that the news being conveyed was all the same. Elections, feminism, corruption, the theory about Viscount Tewksbury's disappearance – that one is a little bit interesting. But, aside from Enola, no one seems to know where he disappeared to.
No one knows whether he was run away or get kidnapped. As far as I know, he could have purposely run away to enjoy the same freedom as Enola or because he knew his life is in danger.
Sherlock returned in the afternoon. Dash was nowhere to be found and I'm guessing he had given it to Enola for some reason. He himself lay back on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. Something bothering him, but I will only know it when he wants to talk about it.
Luckily I don't have to wait for too long. He approached me who had just woken up in the next morning with a happy smile.
"Someone has killed Lord Tewksbury, and disguised it as an accident," he said to sleepily me.
"What? What for?" I asked.
“Political business. Probably he was murdered after someone found out about his decision, my guess is that Viscount Tewksbury is also being targeted because he followed in his father's footsteps."
"Then who killed him? His brother, Lord Basilwether, as I recall was in the Afghan war,” which I was also in was left unspoken in my mouth.
Of course I will remember. I am probably not a high-ranked soldier because of that damn Nazi shot, but I remember Lord Basilwether because he once visited my camp. We never saw each other face to face, but I remember his name pretty well.
“That leaves only one person left doesn't it?”
Sherlock then tidied himself up, put on his tie and took off his coat. "I must report this immediately before Lady Dowager kills Viscount Tewksbury."
And he walked away again leaving me to have breakfast alone. Interestingly, Sherlock came back while laughing in amusement. He never stopped smiling proudly and ignoring me who was confused.
“Oh, Watson, you will not believe this. This is the first time I feel really happy even though I lost.”
"Lost?" I repeated.
Sherlock laughed loudly. “My sister, Enola, she really is an extraordinary girl, always one step ahead of me. First the Tea Rooms, then the Limehouse Line, and now he's solving the Lord Tewksbury case while she's also managed to save Viscount Tewksbury."
I laughed too. That's awesome, I never thought that one day I would be able to see Sherlock being defeated by someone, and who would have thought that 'someone' would turn out to be his own sister? It made me want to meet that girl in person.
Someone who could be Sherlock's equal seemed pretty impressive to me. Yeah... maybe it's not yet time for me to meet her.
"I have decided it, Watson," Sherlock said again after lighting his cigarette, "I have to pay for what I have done to Enola, I will take her as my ward as she wishes."