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Enola Holmes always thought herself to be a logical woman, no matter what anyone else in her life tried to insinuate. She knew her mother left and would probably not come back, she knew she must avoid her brother Mycroft at all cost, she knew Sherlock could be persuaded to help her if she was ever in too much trouble, and she knew her name spelled backwards became Alone. She had always been alone, from the moment her mother had named her, and she was sure she’d stay alone for the rest of her life if she didn’t defy her fate somehow.
She also knew there was only so much she could do as a woman in a man’s profession, and so she created her own man to work under, Doctor Leslie T. Ragostin, so she could do what she did best: find what was lost. She was a professional perditorian after all, and only by parading around as Ivy Meshle, Mrs Ragostin, and any of her many other disguises could she fulfil this profession.
People rarely took kindly to being denied access to Dr. Ragostin’s office when they came with their problems, but Enola had practised enough with calming down irate men that they were at least open to sharing the little details they knew with Miss Ivy Meshle, Dr. Ragostin’s personal assistant, so she could start her own investigation. Because of her skills in finding lost things and people, Dr. Ragostin never had to personally meet any of the clients because, well, he didn’t exist.
Enola had donned her Ivy Meshle disguise the same way she’d always done, her mousy brown hair hidden underneath a hat pinned neatly in place, the whalebone corset underneath her eccentric jacket just tight enough to hold the various items she hid in her bosom. A gaudy bauble was situated in the centre, hiding the dagger she kept on her person in plain sight. The bustle underneath her skirt helped hide more belongings she might need on any given case. Her sharp features were softened with fillers in her mouth, filling out her cheeks, and her hawk-like nose, which she shared with Sherlock, was rounded out with enhancers widening her nostrils. She was every bit the lively Miss Meshle as she had to be, sitting behind her desk in Dr. Ragostin’s perditorian office, doing some paperwork while waiting on a new client. Joddy had brought her the daily newspaper and a copy of the women’s gazette, (where she had quickly checked for any messages from her mother and pushed down her disappointment when she found none), and was now waiting restlessly by the door, unable to keep still.
Luckily for him, and for Enola who was about to tell him to go to the kitchen if he couldn’t stand still for a moment longer, the door opened to let in a boy about the same age as Enola herself. His hair was a deep shade of black, something she hadn’t seen often around here, and his eyes were a penetrating blue. He was wearing a white blouse with black buttons, hidden underneath a dark blue tweed blazer. His pants were the same blue as the blazer and pressed so well there was no crinkle to be seen. His shoes were black, a bit of mud at the edges showing he had been walking either in the middle of the road or in the less savoury parts of town. His hair was windswept, suggesting he’d been walking in a hurry, and he didn’t have a hat on, something Enola found odd when he was otherwise dressed appropriately.
“Let me take your coat, Sir,” Joddy said, happy to have something to do. The boy took a surprised step backward, looking at Joddy in bewilderment. After a moment of pause, the boy took off his blazer and handed it to Joddy with a smile.
“Uh, sure, here ya go,” he said, chuckling nervously. He must’ve been from one of the wealthier families in the city to be able to afford such clothing, but the way he startled from Joddy asking for his jacket and the awkward response suggested otherwise. How peculiar.
“Welcome,” Enola said, making sure to sound like Ivy Meshle. Not too posh, not too poor, just in the middle. She stood up to extend a hand, noting that the boy didn’t wear any gloves. “I’m Ivy Meshle, Dr. Ragostin’s assistant. What can I help you with today?”
“Ah, hello, I’m Danny,” the boy said, shaking her hand. “Danny Fenton, nice to meet you. I, uh, I found something and I heard from someone that you might be able to help.”
Found something? That’s a new one, usually it was Enola who had to find things for others, not the other way around. Then why did he need her help, if he already found what he was looking for? Was it stuck somewhere, perhaps? Maybe he found where it was hidden, but couldn’t get to it for one reason or another. Either way, she should get some more information before making her judgement.
“I will do my best to help you, Mr. Fenton,” Enola said, sitting back down. She motioned for Danny to sit as well, which he thankfully did. She grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil to start making notes. “What is it exactly that you found?”
“A dead body.”
Enola’s hand hovered above the paper for a moment, her thoughts having crashed to a halt. Danny had said it so casually that it took a few seconds to register what exactly he’d said, and when it did, Enola had to force herself to start moving again. She nodded and looked back at him, the words “dead body” now neatly written on her paper.
“Would you be able to tell me where, when and what the person looks like?” Enola asked, trying to sound professional and not at all undone by what was just revealed.
“Well, it was not too far from here, at uh, where was it again?” he thought for a moment before turning to his right, looking in the air as if he was asking a question to someone, but surely he was just asking himself to jog his memory. His eyes widened in recognition. “Ah, yeah! Addle Street, that’s right. I found her a few minutes ago, it didn’t seem like she’d been dead for long. She had a long red dress I think, and a hat. Uh, blond hair? I think?” He waited a second before nodding. “Yeah, blond for sure. She looked like she got stabbed a few times. Her name’s Charlotte Hayes.”
Enola set aside her surprise at how nonchalant he was talking about this and wrote down all the details she gave him. Surely it was just the shock keeping him sane right now, and he wasn’t used to seeing death all around? Danny tilted his head, like he was listening to something, and then handed her the most unexpected part of the story yet.
“I think I know who killed her,” he said casually, like he was talking about what kind of treat he would eat during tea time later, “I just don’t know how to prove it, which is why I’m here. Apparently Dr. Ragostin is alright at finding people?”
Enola restrained her shock before she could say something stupid that would scare the boy away from taking her services. He knew who the killer was? He had seen the murder happen, then? Or did he know the woman and he had a possible suspect?
“Dr. Ragostin specialises in finding lost things and people, so yes, you could say he is good at his job,” she said instead of the million questions stuck in her head. “Could you describe the suspect please?”
“Oh, sure! He’s about thirty, pretty tall, dresses very fancy.” Danny waited a few more moments before continuing. “He’s got brown hair and grey eyes. His name is… Robert Bancroft? He should live somewhere in the upper part of town, I think.”
“Thank you,” Enola said, putting her pencil down. “I will give all the information you’ve given me to Dr. Ragostin the moment he’s back in the office. I’ll keep you updated on the case if you could give me your contact information. Just an address would be fine.”
“Oh, that’s okay, you don’t have to send me anything. The newspaper will report on it if he gets arrested, right? I have to go now, see ya later!”
Without waiting for an answer, Danny got up, taking the coat from the coatrack Joddy had hung it on, and leaving out the door right as Joddy came back with a platter of tea. Enola watched him leave in bewilderment, not sure how to stop him. That’s fine, though, she thought, she’ll find his address somehow since she got his full name. If that is his real name. She motioned for Joddy to give her the tea and have a cup himself, a request he happily complied with. She looked at the details she wrote down. This would be an interesting case.
A few days later, the arrest of Robert Bancroft appeared in the newspaper, the credit going to Dr. Leslie T. Ragostin for bringing the evidence to the police via his assistant, Ivy Meshle. She was pretty proud of this one, even though the boy had given her a lot of information to work with. Robert had hidden the evidence pretty well, forcing Enola to use multiple disguises to frequent many different places to find the dagger he had used to stab poor Charlotte. Seems like he’d taken a fancy to her and refused to take no for an answer, resorting to killing her once she threatened to expose him to his wife. Poor Charlotte, hopefully her spirit could rest in peace now that her killer had been apprehended.
She had just returned to her office, sipping some tea and reading the morning paper as Ivy Meshle, when the door opened. Joddy sprang into action and quickly took the person’s coat as Enola put the newspaper to the side. She put on her best Ivy Meshle smile and looked at her possible client, only to blink in surprise when she saw Danny giving his still dark blue blazer to Joddy.
“Hello, Mr. Fenton, it’s good to see you again,” she said, and she meant it. She hadn’t thought she’d see the boy again, but maybe he was here to talk about the case she had just solved? Surely he didn’t have another case for her this soon.
“Hi, Miss Meshle,” Danny said with a bright smile, “Good job on the murder case, I’m really glad Dr. Ragostin could solve it. How much do I owe you?”
“Whatever you’re able to pay,” Enola replied, preening a little at the praise. Sure, Danny may think Dr. Ragostin solved it, but Enola knew the truth. It had taken her a lot of work, and being acknowledged, even indirectly, immediately put her in a good mood.
Danny took out some bank notes, handing them over to Enola with a smile. “I’m not sure how much is expected for a job like this, so I hope this is enough?”
Enola looked down, expecting to see a few pounds at most, and choked on air once she saw the actual amount. Danny had handed her five notes of a hundred pounds. She had more than that stashed away in her corset, all gotten through her mother, but it was unexpected to see such a large amount coming from one single person, especially when it was handed over so casually, like this couldn’t have fed a large family for years. Her initial impression of him being from a richer family seemed to hold true. Maybe he hadn’t gone out much before now and didn’t know the value of money? Either way, if he was rich enough to give her this amount so casually, then she would accept it. She could help buy some more groceries for Mrs. Tupper, her nearly-deaf landlady, for a richer supper than usual.
“Thank you, Mr. Fenton, this is very generous,” she said once the shock died down. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Now that you mention it, I could really use your help again,” Danny chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. Didn’t his governess not teach him not to do that? Enola knew men were permitted more indiscretions in general, but rich children had to adhere to strict rules and regulations. There was no way a governess of someone as rich as Danny would have permitted him to show such nervous ticks. “I found another body.”
Pausing her assessment of his upbringing, Enola looked at him in surprise. She opened her mouth before closing it again, unsure of what to say to that. How had he found another body this soon after the first one? Was he a perditorian as well, perhaps? Did he go looking for missing people, or did he stumble on them by accident?
Grabbing another piece of paper and a pencil, Enola set those thoughts aside as she looked at Danny. “Since you’re back here, I’m assuming you want Dr. Ragostin to help solve this crime as well?”
Danny nodded, seemingly relieved. Maybe he expected her to have more questions? Enola sure had questions, but she wasn’t about to scare her client away by being too nosy. She had looked into Danny Fenton during her investigation, but had found nothing on him. He wasn’t in any family registry, there was no Fenton residency in the city–even her brother Sherlock hadn’t heard about any Fentons. And with the amount of money he had just given her, it was even more peculiar that he or his family was nowhere to be found. A foreigner, then? His accent had been very different from those she’d known all her life and those she came to know after moving to London.
Questions on his origin aside, she had another case to solve, and she wouldn’t be a professional perditorian if she couldn’t find the evidence needed.
The third time Danny opened the door, Enola was sure he had another case for her. Once is an accident, twice is a coincidence, but thrice? He had to be looking for crimes on purpose, and she couldn’t judge him for it because she had done the exact same thing before. Her brother Sherlock still nagged her about it, despite everything having turned out well even without his help.
“Hello, Mr. Fenton,” Enola smiled, “Are you here for the last case you told me about, or for a new one?”
Danny laughed, handing her the money for the last case, another five hundred pounds, and thanked Joddy for the tea. Joddy was starting to get faster at getting tea for guests, which Enola was grateful for, and smiled happily at Danny. Enola hoped he hadn’t gotten attached just yet, she would rather not find another porter.
“Please, call me Danny,” he said first, taking a sip from his tea, “Mr. Fenton is my father.” He chuckled quietly, like it was a private joke she wasn’t privy to. “And sorry, Miss Meshle, I’ve found another one.”
Enola was sure he was searching them out now. How else could a boy like him find so many dead people? He was also still wearing the same clothes as before. Again, thrice cannot be a coincidence anymore, especially if he could throw around money like that without a care in the world. Danny turned to his left this time, seemingly focussed on something Enola could neither see nor hear. She’d noticed that on his other visits too. He seemed unclear on some details, having to think for a while before he was able to give her any information, and asking questions to the empty air if he got stuck. Was it like her writing lists of questions whenever she got stuck? Somehow, she doubted that was the case. It was almost… like he was talking to someone. But that was preposterous!
Enola shook herself out of her own mind and instead grabbed a piece of paper and a pencil, waiting for Danny to tell her the details of a new case.
Enola couldn’t get Danny out of her head. He was an enigma, a riddle she wanted to solve, a question she didn’t know the answer to. Five times he had brought her a new case already, and five times he knew things about the killer beforehand, only unable to find the evidence to prove his suspicions right. Five times he had come in with his white button-up and blue tweed blazer with matching blue pants, no hat or gloves, handing her five hundred pounds like it was nothing and giving her the details of a new murder.
She had searched everywhere for his whereabouts, but had been unable to find him anywhere unless he walked into Dr. Ragostin’s office. He wasn’t in any register she had checked, none of the constables keeping watch in the fancier neighbourhoods had seen him, and even her brother was at a loss. He couldn’t have just gone up in smoke! He had to be somewhere, she knew it.
She’d made a list of questions to keep her mind working, and to give her a starting point.
- How does he keep finding new murder victims?
- How does he know their names? And, in extension, how does he know the names of their killers?
- How is he always right on who killed them?
- Where does he go after leaving Dr. Ragostin’s building? Where is his family?
- Where does he get all the money he pays me?
- Why does he keep talking to empty air?
That’s how Enola found herself hiding in Dr. Ragostin’s office instead of sitting at her desk, sketching Danny on a piece of paper. Her frustrations bled through in her drawings, exaggerating features more than usual and drawing him in more poses than she had drawn anyone else before. She had just solved the latest case he had given her, a house robbery gone wrong, and was waiting for Danny to appear again. If he kept up the pattern he had so far, he would be here soon. This time, though, Ivy Meshle wouldn’t be waiting for him. She had told Joddy she’d be out for a while and to tell any possible clients to please come back later. Then, she’d snuck around the back of the building to enter again through a secret passageway which led into a room behind a bookcase in Dr. Ragostin’s office. The building used to belong to a fortune teller who scammed all his clients by using this secret room, and after taking him and his compatriots down, Enola had purchased the building for herself. The secret room had served her well so far, making it easier for her to don her many disguises.
She was sure she could find the answer to at least one of her questions by following Danny once he left the office. To make sure she had the time to disguise herself as, well, herself, very different from the flamboyant Miss Ivy Meshle, and go around the building to follow him, she had chosen not to be Ivy Meshle when he came in. Apologies to the next murder victim he would bring to light, finding their killer would take a day longer than usual, but Enola had a more important mystery to solve right now. She planned to follow him as a working woman, wearing her ever trusty corset but hiding it beneath a smart skirt and blazer combination, a pair of glasses pinched to her sharp nose and her hair pinned up. Her dagger had been switched out with another one, this one carrying an elegant stone on the hilt which complimented her outfit once the dagger was hidden in her corset.
Right on time, the door opened and Danny walked in. Enola waited with bated breath as Danny and Joddy talked, hearing Joddy tell him that “Miss Meshle and Dr. Ragostin weren’t there right now, Miss Meshle said she’d be back tomorrow.”
Danny sounded disappointed, like he had looked forward to seeing her again. During the last meeting, he’d stayed a little longer to make some conversation, and though he said some strange things (her foreigner theory was starting to make more sense here), she had enjoyed his company. He had been interested in her work, wondering what it was like to be an assistant to a detective, which led to her explaining what the difference between a detective and a perditorian was. He had asked her about past cases, things she had solved all on her own even though no one knew it had been her, and had hung on her every word as she talked. She hadn’t thought anyone would pay her so much attention, especially as Ivy Meshle. It was… nice. It made her want to meet Danny as Enola too, to see what he would say then. Would he still be as nice as he was now if he knew she was a girl the same age as him? Would he still be willing to have these conversations about death and adventure and logic if he knew who she really was?
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she heard Danny say goodbye to Joddy, which was her que to get out of there and follow him. Quickly, she left through the hidden entrance behind the bookcase and into an alley behind her office, walking towards the main street with long strides. She turned the corner just as Danny walked away from the building, going in the opposite direction as her. She slowed down and followed him at a sedate pace, making sure to keep enough distance not to be noticed but staying close enough to not lose him in a crowd.
Danny seemed to periodically talk to himself, just like he’d done in her office, though this time he also reacted to things that weren’t there, laughing and ducking his head like someone had made a joke and swatted at him. She was too far away to hear any conversation, but from the looks passers by were giving him, it was clear he wasn’t just talking to himself. He walked through streets seemingly at random, never staying in one place too long. Enola had thought he would go to the upper part of town, but instead he had made his way over to the poorer district, not caring about the mud and filth that collected on his shoes as he walked. This wasn’t exactly the place Enola had expected to go, and her outfit stood out between all the people selling food or begging for money. Luckily, people didn’t pay her much mind when there was a much easier target not far in front of her who looked much richer than her. She looked like a scholar, meanwhile Danny’s clothes practically screamed rich heir.
To her surprise, though, Danny was greeted kindly by some of the people around them. Kids came up to him and emptied his pockets, which he allowed with loud laughter. A middle aged woman scolded them, but calmed down after Danny said something, after which more people approached him. He handed out money without a care in the world, giving bank notes to anyone who asked. Enola was sure someone would soon stab him and rob him of all he was worth, but Danny didn’t seem worried in the slightest. She sped up a bit so she could be closer by. She didn’t want Danny to end up as the next murder victim she had to solve the crime for. Furthermore, she was worried what would happen to the people who got money from him now.
She’d gone out disguised as a nun during the night before, handing blankets, clothes, food and candles to those who needed it most, and that had nearly cost her her life. Blankets she had given to the poorest ended up in the possession of others soon enough, having been stolen soon after, and people had fought each other for less than the money Danny was giving them now. She wouldn’t be surprised if there were more muggings and murders in the slums soon because Danny didn’t know not to give a beggar a hundred pound note.
Unable to stop him without giving herself away or causing a riot from the people around them, Enola watched Danny hand out all the money he had on him, waving at everyone once he lost it all and walked on. Enola followed him soon after, closing the distance a bit to keep an eye on him through the narrow and winding roads of the slums. Eventually, he ended up closer to the proper streets of London again, slipping into a pub which was famous for their ladies of the night. She hadn’t thought he would be one of those who frequented establishments like that, and part of her was disappointed that he was still a sleazy man at heart.
Deciding she didn’t want to know what he was doing inside, she waited in a nearby alleyway until he would come out again. She made sure to stay out of sight of the entrance and focussed on the sounds of the city around her. Even here, street vendors yelled about their fresh fish, the meat pies of questionable origins, and any other wares that might sell in the poorer parts of London. Enola’s stomach started to growl in protest as she waited for one hour, two hours, three hours, eventually forcing her to go to one of the street vendors and buying a meat pie. At least it looked more natural than just standing around and doing nothing. She decided to slowly walk around while eating, keeping a subtle eye on the pub as she did so.
Finally, after way too long, Danny exited the pub. He waved at the ladies of the night who stood in the doorway and started walking again. By now, it was well past noon and he seemed to be heading back to the fancier part of town. Maybe now that he was done satiating whatever perverse need he had, he would finally go home and she would know where he lived and could do some more research on his family.
Danny walked. And kept walking. And kept walking some more. Danny meandered through the streets seemingly at random, not paying any attention to the people around him. This time he wasn’t talking to himself anymore, just putting one foot in front of the other and continuing on his way like he hadn’t just left the part of town most people would avoid like the plague.
Enola followed him throughout the rest of the day, and once night fell, she followed him throughout the entire night. Not once did he stop at any of the houses they passed, nor did he talk to anyone they passed. She had to stay even further away once night fell, no longer having the crowds of people around her to blend in with. Did he know she was following him and that’s why he didn’t go into any of the homes? He hadn’t shown any signs of being aware he was being followed, but maybe he was good at hiding that.
Enola thought back to the awkward boy in her office, showing emotions so openly and freely, like he didn’t have the upper-class upbringing his clothes suggested. Was it all an act? A way to make her take her walls down and fool her? But, why? He’d come to her to report murder victims he’d found, none of which he had killed himself, something she had investigated just to be sure, and seemed genuinely thankful that the killers were apprehended. What was she missing? He couldn’t just be living on the streets, right? With all that money, he could easily rent a place to stay at, why would he just be wandering around like that? Was that how he found the murder victims?
More confused than ever, Enola returned to her own lodgings in Mrs. Tupper’s home, thankful that the woman was too deaf to hear her come in at the crack of dawn. She ignored her bed for now, putting on her Ivy Meshle disguise again and going downstairs for breakfast before leaving for her day job.
The moment she sat down behind her desk, Danny walked in looking as refreshed as ever. Did he not need sleep? Ignoring that she had followed him around all day yesterday, she welcomed him with a smile and motioned for him to sit down. Joddy had already taken his blazer and brought some tea and snacks, which Danny devoured like he hadn’t eaten in days. Did he… not buy any food for himself? Thinking back on it, Danny hadn’t stopped at any street vendor, and though he had been in that pub for a while, he had also walked around all night without eating. At least Enola had her candy hidden in her pockets to snack on while she walked. Danny didn’t really take care of himself at all, she thought with a frown.
“So, what murder scene have you stumbled upon this time, Danny?” she asked, knowing what to expect from Danny by now when he came for their help.
“Well, Roxy got killed by one of the patrons at the pub she works at. Her friends were hoping you’d be able to find the killer and any evidence of his crime.”
“Which pub, exactly?”
“The Wandering Rose.”
Enola’s smile froze on her face. That was the pub Danny had gone into the day before. Was he there because of the murder case? Was he talking with the victim’s friends to get more evidence because Enola hadn’t been there to get the details immediately? She felt her opinion of him rise once more, expelling any doubts about his character. Still, he was an odd fellow. He was back to talking to himself, looking to his right or left whenever he asked a question or was thinking about something.
What a strange boy.
She followed him again a few days later, having found him wandering around the pub once more while she was investigating. This time, she was dressed as a bookmark seller, having bought the whole basket from a little girl earlier, with a shawl over her head and shoulders to hide her dress. He was ducking into random alleyways, going all over the city without a care in the world, and Enola had been starting to wonder if it would be like last time and she’d find nothing of use, until Danny suddenly stopped in front of one of the big townhouses that were common in this part of London. Enola stood on the other side of the street, slowly walking further at the same pace she had been going to follow him, asking passers by if they would want to buy a bookmark as to not raise suspicion.
Danny didn’t pay her any mind, tilting his head up to look at something. When she followed his gaze, all she could see was the front of a townhouse, nothing odd about it. It was four stories tall, including the attic, with flowers on the windowsill–begonias, she noted, meaning “beware” according to the Language of Flowers book her mother had left her–and a lantern hanging from the overhang to light up the front of the house during the night. The brick was a tasteful soft yellow and the windows were clean, definitely a well-cared for city home for whatever rich family lived there. Enola passed the house from the other side of the street and kept walking slowly, keeping an eye on Danny as best she could without raising suspicion.
After a few moments where Enola contemplated if she should turn around and walk back so she could pass Danny again, when Danny strode forward with long strides, like a man on a mission. He finally seemed to have a goal in mind while walking and Enola was determined to find out what that goal was. She let him pass her first, then she crossed the street, making sure to avoid the carriages passing by and ignoring the muck on the street that now clung to her shoes. She followed him at the same pace he was walking, waiting until he had turned a corner to run and catch up. He turned right, and right again, into a tiny alleyway running behind the fenced in gardens of the townhouses. Enola waited a moment before looking around the corner, not wanting to give herself away, only to find the alley empty of life. Danny was nowhere to be seen.
He couldn’t have hid anywhere, all the gardens were fenced up with iron bars and the rest of the alleyway was deserted of any objects he could use to hide behind. Sure, Enola had climbed fences too in her time as perditorian the past year, but then she would’ve at least seen him in one of the gardens! She inspected the alleyway all the way through, looking into the gardens of every home she came across, but found nothing of note. Cursing her luck, uttering a few words that would have even her brothers blushing in shame, she turned back to the end of the alley and left. She would have to try and find him again later.
And by God, she would find him.
The moment the papers citing Dr. Ragostin’s success in another case hit her desk, Danny walked in again with information on another murder victim. If Enola hadn’t solved the previous cases herself, she would’ve thought the boy himself was committing these crimes, but as it was, the real perpetrators were behind bars, and Danny had nothing to do with any of them. He didn’t have a link with any of the victims either. They were often the poor or unfortunate, people who wouldn’t be missed or easily forgotten about, but even that pattern changed today when he brought forth the murder of a Lady Arabella Grey, a respected woman in the upper echelons of London society.
Her murder had been featured in the newspaper a few days ago, together with the apprehension of the suspected murderer, her husband Lord Sebastian Grey. Enola had briefly glossed over the article, not finding anything noteworthy at first glance, and thus had put the matter out of her mind. But here Danny was, bringing forth the notion that her husband didn’t kill her at all, but that she was murdered by her daughter and her son-in-law, who were banking on the fortune that would be her inheritance to get them out of a deep debt they’d gotten themselves into. The state of their financial issues hadn’t been disclosed anywhere, so how Danny knew this was just another mystery to add to the growing mountain Enola didn’t even want to think about.
All she knew now was this: an innocent man was in jail, the killers were currently using up Lady Grey’s fortune, and the house the murder happened at was the yellow house with begonias in the windowsill.
How had Danny known? Had he heard something she hadn’t? The murder had happened two days before Enola had followed Danny to the house, so he couldn’t have heard the murder happening. The daughter and son-in-law, vultures though they are, hadn’t yet moved into the house yet because of the police investigation, so he couldn’t have heard them talking about the murder either. It didn’t make any sense!
Enola kept trying to figure out what could be going on with Danny as she put on the face enhancers needed for her Miss Everseau disguise, turning her from a disgrace to a beautiful lady no man but her brothers could resist. She muttered to herself about “impossible boys” and “strange behaviours” as she carefully placed the wig of tasteful auburn curls on her own pinned up mousy brown hair. She spent the next few hours adding her make-up and finishing with the two beauty marks as she tried to get into the right mindset to infiltrate the tea party Mrs. Clement was throwing in the house that was now her own after the death of Lady Grey.
She could worry about odd boys later, she had evidence to find.
“Excuse me,” Enola, or rather, Miss Everseau said, “I’m a bit lost. Could you help me?”
Danny turned around to look at her, his usual smile on his face. Surely, even Danny wouldn’t be able to resist Miss Everseau? The only men who had any problem with beautiful women were her brothers, a category Danny didn’t belong to. Yet, when he looked at her, he didn’t start gaping as some of the schoolboys she had passed, nor did he look her up and down like the men near the carriage stand had done. No, weirdly enough, he seemed to almost… recognise her? But that was preposterous! She was wearing her most intricate disguise, make-up, face enhancers, wig, corset, beautiful dress, and high heels included! Then why did it feel like was humouring her?
“Sure, where do ya need to go?” He replied, unphased and smiling almost mischievously. If Enola hadn’t just secured the evidence she needed for her newest case, she would think he was about to send her on a wild goose chase for more.
“Well, I just arrived in London and I was hoping to find some accommodations. Would you be able to point me the right way?” That was a lie, of course, Enola had her accommodations with Mrs. Tupper and she was quite alright with that. She was hoping Danny would show her to a place he himself was renting from, or someone he’d been in contact with during his time in London, so that she might be able to find some more clues about this mysterious boy.
Danny turned his head to the left for a moment, probably thinking about places to take her, or perhaps listening to whatever had been speaking to him that got him to talk to himself so much. He nodded once, twice, and the third nod was aimed at Enola herself. “I know a place,” he said, smiling broadly.
“That’s wonderful,” Enola returned the smile with an equally enthusiastic one and motioned for him to take the lead, which he did with much gusto. They walked side by side for a moment before Enola spoke again. “If I may inquire, have you been in the city for long?”
“Oh, not that long, just a few months now,” Danny replied, “I’m on vacation, you know? Wanted a change of view after being stuck at home for so long.”
Enola hadn’t expected the boy to give that information so freely. She had expected him to be more secretive, that she would have to wiggle the information out with tricky questions and reading between the lines. Maybe her disguise had the desired effect after all?
“Oh? Where are you from?” She asked, trying to sound both intrigued and not interested at all. She’d perfected the tone over her time as a perditorian talking with all sorts of people. She knew people were less likely to dole out information if you seem too interested, and the same might happen if you’re not interested enough. It was a tricky line to balance, but she was sure she could manage.
“America,” Danny supplied without a care in the world, “From a small town I’m sure you won’t know.”
“How delightful,” Enola replied, keeping her voice at an acceptable volume for a conversation in public, though she was very happy her guess had been correct. He had indeed been from America! But, what was such a young boy doing here all by himself? Was he like Enola, a runaway, maybe trying to find someone or something, surviving all on his own while his family didn’t know where he was? Had she found another kindred spirit, like the young Lady Cecily? Someone she could talk with, who could share her ideals and brainstorm over cases together?
“Sure is,” Danny said, pulling her from her thoughts, “How about you? What brought you to London?” A crooked smile confused her once more. Had he really seen through her disguise? Either way, she had to keep up the pretences or she might not be able to use this disguise ever again.
“I’m here to find a husband,” she lied, keeping her smile open and happy despite the words wanting to make her throw herself off a bridge. Unfortunately, she had a character to play. “Oh, finding a handsome man to dance with at the Spring Ball, wouldn’t that be so romantic?”
Danny badly disguised a laugh with a cough, almost making her lose her composure and start laughing as well. Luckily, she was quite good at pretending and she just uttered a soft “Bless you.” as they kept walking. Enola eventually dared to ask another question, as it seemed Danny had no qualms about sharing information.
“Are you here on your own?” She asked, a lot more direct than she had planned beforehand but hopefully, if her intuition was correct, he would appreciate the bluntness.
“I am,” Danny nodded, “My parents didn’t want to come, and my sister is busy with college, so I decided to come on my own.”
“College?” Enola turned to Danny so fast she nearly tripped on her heels. It was unheard of for women to study at any of the men’s colleges. Sure, there were scholarly women, but they were often looked down upon and had taken it upon themselves to further their studies on their own or with private tutors their family decided to provide for them. The few women’s colleges that existed had exorbitant fees which didn’t allow many women to participate at all, and even after getting an education, they would scarcely be listened to.
“Yeah! It’s pretty cool, she’s really smart. She’s studying psychology ‘cause she wants to help people, ya know?”
That was… extraordinary! Danny’s sister being able to go to college and Danny saying that so casually meant he was a lot richer than he let on. It also meant he really might be a kindred spirit if the pride she heard in his voice was as real as she thought it was.
“That’s incredible,” she said, barely able to contain herself. “Are you planning on studying something yourself as well?”
“Nah, probably not. I’m not really cut out for school. Besides, I have… other duties to attend to.” He seemed a lot less enthusiastic about those duties, and Enola had a few guesses to what those might be. If he was as rich as she imagined, they were definitely either aristocrats or traders, and either way, his parents were probably expecting him to take over after he became old enough or his father died. She did not envy him in the slightest. Her runaway theory was also still viable, she wouldn’t want to stay to become the next head of house either if it meant she couldn’t follow her own dreams. Mycroft was already the head of their house after their father had died, and Sherlock had no interest in the position, so nothing was expected of Enola besides going to a finishing school and getting married, something she was desperately trying to avoid.
“I understand,” she said, her true self shining through the disguise before she pushed it all back behind her face modifications and make-up, throwing on an award winning smile. “Though I’m sure you’ll do great no matter what those duties are. You seem like a kind boy.”
At last, that seemed to fluster him. Good to know there was at least some use from her disguise with a stubborn boy like that. Although she wouldn’t mind it if he really felt the same way about kissing girls as she did about boys: absolutely disinterested at best and disgusted at worst. She hoped he did. She would hate to find out he’d been like any of the other boys she’d walked past so far after enjoying his company over the past couple of months.
“Thanks, I guess,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck. A nervous gesture she was sure a good governess would’ve trained out of him by now. Same with the overly casual manner of speech. Maybe he and Lady Cecily had more in common than she thought. The left-handed girl had to split her life into two to please her family and conform to the world around her. Maybe Danny had similar problems, not able to fit into his family because of actions or words that were too much him, and not enough what they wanted him to be. Like Enola herself had been.
“Here we are,” Danny said as they stopped in front of a normal looking townhouse with a sign in the window that said ‘Rooms to let’. “I’ve heard it’s pretty good for an okay price,” he continued, tilting his head for a few seconds before talking again. “The owner is a nice woman who provides food too, so you should be alright here.”
“Is this where you’re staying too?” Enola asked, again trying not to sound too curious but now also trying to keep the disappointment out of her voice. She had hoped to talk to Danny some more before they got to their destination. She had barely paid any attention to where they were going either, damn her distracted mind!
“Nah, this is women’s only apparently,” Danny shrugged, putting his hands in his pockets. How did he come to know about this place then? Did he try to rent out a room here and was told off by the owner?
“If I’m not intruding too much, are you staying nearby, then?”
“Sure, I guess you could say that,” Danny replied with a mischievous grin. He turned to walk away, waving behind himself. “It was nice meeting you, Miss! See ya around!”
Before she could reply, he had crossed the street and disappeared out of view, leaving Enola behind with only a few answers and a lot more questions. At least now she had a lead. Turning away from the townhouse she was led to, she made sure to check the street name before calling a carriage to take her home. She had work to do, after all.
The next time Enola saw Danny, she wasn't wearing any disguise at all. No Ivy Meshle, no Miss Everseau, no bookmark seller, just Enola Holmes, a fourteen year old girl living on her own in London, trying to outrun her brothers. It was precisely because of this running that she had bumped into Danny, quite literally, and sent them both sprawling on the pavement, limbs interlocked awkwardly.
Enola didn't have time to take note of any injuries, as she was sure Sherlock, with his superior height and long legs, was fast gaining on her. Without pause to think, she sprang upright, pulling a confused Danny with her, and bolting down the street again. She could hear Sherlock yelling for her as he rounded the corner and fastened her pace, ignoring the urge to look back at the more tolerable of her brothers. Though Sherlock was brilliant and she looked up to him and his work immensely, he was still equally as likely to lock her up in a finishing school as her other brother, Mycroft. Both wanted her to become a nice young lady who could marry someone of high standing and bear many children, but if Enola had any say in it, she would stay as far away from such a fate as the universe would allow.
So she kept running, and running, and running, until she was sure she had lost Sherlock and her legs were about to give out. Heaving deep breaths, she finally let go of Danny's wrist, which she had admittedly forgotten she was holding, and crouched down to give herself a chance to calm down. She was safe once more, but she was sure this would happen again, and she dearly hoped she could keep outrunning and outwitting them until she was old enough to properly stand her ground.
“Are you okay?” Danny asked, startling her from her folded position on the sidewalk and making her lose her balance. Only Danny's quick reflexes saved her from falling over completely, and he helped her to her feet with a worried look on his face. At least, she was pretty sure he was worried, but she could swear she saw some amusement for a moment as well.
“Perfectly fine, thank you,” Enola replied, straightening her skirt, “Sorry for pulling you along like that, I didn't mean to involve you in my business.” Sherlock was sure to search for the mysterious black-haired boy she had pulled along just now. Enola hadn’t believed in a God for a while now, but she prayed to the universe that Danny would stay safe and that he wouldn't be able to lead Sherlock to Miss Ivy Meshle, the disguise that looked the most like her, in Dr. Ragostin’s office.
“That's alright, I've been pulled into a lot of crazy things before,” Danny chuckled. Enola was sure of that too, with how many murders he brought to her every couple of weeks. “What was going on there though? Why was he chasing you?”
Enola groaned, letting her head fall into her hands before instantly letting go again, hissing at the scratches and bruises she had gotten from her fall earlier. That was going to be annoying for a while. Taking out a swath of cloth from her corset, she started wrapping her left hand first as she replied.
“That was my brother Sherlock, he's been keen on catching me for a while now. Wants to send me to a finishing school I don't have any intentions of attending.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, as distracted as she was with wrapping her hand, she regretted saying them. Was it because she had seen him so often in her other personas that she had been so open, or was it because Danny himself had been so open when she asked questions the last time they met? Either way, she wished she could swallow those words and make Danny un-hear what she said.
“Sherlock? Like the detective?” Danny asked, leaning closer to take over the wound care. He wrapped her bandage with a lot more precision than she had and she felt herself relax in his care. She rolled her eyes at his response.
“Yes, like the detective. I'm Enola, his sister. A pleasure to meet you, Mr.…?” She asked for his name despite knowing it already, but she had never met Danny like this before and so it would be incredibly odd to already know his name.
“Danny. Danny Fenton, nice to meet you too.” There it was again, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes that told her he knew more than he let on and that he thought that was funny. Oh how infuriating!
“Say, do I know you from somewhere?” Danny asked, a lopsided smile on his face. He was trying to seem innocent, but Enola was sure of her suspicions now: he had seen through her disguises. He had connected not only Ivy Meshle and Enola Holmes, but also Miss Everseau.
“I don't know, do you?” She asked back, a challenge in her voice.
“I think I do,” Danny replied, winking mischievously. He finished wrapping her left hand and then grabbed her right. “Do you have any more bandages, Miss Meshle?”
This was it, Enola thought as she grabbed some more cloth from her corset, Danny knew who she was in and out of disguise. He was going to tell her brother where she worked because everyone respected Sherlock and she was going to be sent to a finishing school before the week was out. She was going to have to stop working as Ivy Meshle if she wanted to stay safe, and probably never use the disguise of Miss Everseau anymore either. Enola dreaded having to come up with another disguise she could easily wear every day without raising suspicion.
Danny started wrapping her right hand as she thought of ways to escape. She was sure she could outrun Danny if she really needed to. She'd been in London longer than he had been and she knew the alleyways like the back of her hand, surely she could hide from him before he could go get her brother. Then she could run to Mrs. Tupper and get all of her stuff together to go live in a different place. She would miss her nearly-deaf landlady, but she couldn't risk Danny somehow also knowing where she lived.
Danny must've noticed her tense shoulders, because he started talking again. “Chill, Enola. I'm not gonna rat you out or anything. I don't know what a finishing school is, but if you don't wanna go, then you shouldn't have to go.”
Enola's head snapped up, her eyes searching his face for any signs of a lie. He kept wrapping her hand but made sure to look her in the eye when he noticed her staring, sending her a genuine smile. At least, it seemed genuine to her. Without giving her body the command, she relaxed a fraction, convinced by his words that he wasn't about to run to Sherlock the moment he was done wrapping her hands.
“It's a school for young ladies,” she said after a few moments of silence. “They put you in a tight corset with barely any food to get your waist down to 16 inches, make you wear the most uncomfortable clothing known to women, and teach you how to be a good and demure housewife with many children. It's horrid and dehumanising and neither of my brothers have any idea what kind of hell it would be for me and any other girl who gets sent there.”
Danny's eyes had nearly grown to the size of dinner plates by the time she finished her explanation, staring at her in horror. “And your brothers want you to go to that place? Why?”
Enola snorted in a most un-ladylike way. “Because I'm a disgrace to the family, of course. Mother never gave me the ‘proper education for a young lady’ and so Mycroft, being the head of house, decided to give me that education ‘before it's too late’. Sherlock follows along because he thinks that's what young ladies should be like.”
“They're both nincompoops if they think that,” Danny said, and Enola was startled by how much he seemed to mean that. “Ladylike this, young ladies that, who cares? You only get one life after all, why not make the most of it?” He almost seemed a bit wistful as he said that last part, a certain sadness washing over him. It was gone before Enola could look too much into it, with Danny finishing up the knot keeping together her make-shift bandages. “Besides, you've been doing quite well with the murder cases I've been bringing to you, right? Everyone's been really happy with your work.”
“Everyone?” Enola thought he was here alone, who in the world would be ‘everyone’ in this case?
“Yeah,” he said, not elaborating. He looked her in the eye before bowing deeply. “Thank you.”
Enola watched him bow, frozen in place and too flustered to say anything. He stood up straight after a few moments and extended his arm for her to grab onto, which she did. She started following him in a daze as he started walking.
“How about dinner as a thank you? I'll pay, of course.” What was he saying? This didn't make any sense! What was he thanking her for? Why so formally? What had she stumbled in on?
“Why?” She managed to utter after her brain started working again.
Danny shrugged. “I don't have much time left on my vacation and I wanted to hang out at least once without a murder case, ya know? You're really cool, so I thought maybe we could be friends? Only if you want to, of course.”
Friends. Enola didn't have any friends. She wanted to be friends with Lady Cecily, but she hadn't been able to see her after saving her life that day by bursting into Dr. Watson's home while working on her kidnapping case. She hadn't had the time or chance to talk to anyone even close to her age before or after that, unless little Lord Tewkesbury could be counted, but he had been twelve and locked in a ship and had been sent back home right after finding him. She really didn't have anyone, did she?
‘You'll do well on your own, Enola,’ her mother's words echoed in her head. Was she doomed to be alone? Or, she thought as she looked at the boy next to her, did she just have to take the chance when it was offered? Could she defy her fate?
“I'd like that,” Enola replied, and she was surprised to realise she meant it. “To be friends, I mean.”
“Oh thank Ancients, I really thought you were going to say no, that would've been awkward,” Danny let out in one big breath before bursting out laughing. “Damn, I didn't know I was so nervous about that.”
Enola couldn't help but join in on the laughter. What a strange boy, but at least he was kind. What more could she ask for?
Enola didn't see Danny anymore after the dinner they shared. It was like he had disappeared from the face of the earth. He had definitely left London, but no one she asked had seen hide nor hair from him. Either he had snuck off on a boat on his own as a stowaway, or he'd left to look around the rest of England before going back to America.
She knew he wasn't going to stay much longer, but she was disappointed he had left without another word. She thought she'd finally had a friend to talk to, only for him to disappear on her. He didn't even leave her an address to send letters to or a phone number for her to try and call. Sure, it was going to be expensive, but she had enough money to at least call him once every few weeks, and she was sure he had more than enough money to do the same.
She sat sketching in frustration at her desk, dressed as Ivy Meshle, drawing caricatures of Danny in different outfits and poses, her pencil flying over the paper unable to stop. A few sketches of Sherlock, the way he had looked the last time she saw him, popped up in empty spaces too, along with one or two of Mycroft. She wasn't sure why she added them, but it made her feel better, so she kept going. She drew the murder victims whose cases she solved, the perpetrators who tried getting away by pinning the blame on others. She drew Lady Cecily, Dr. Watson and his wife. She tried drawing mother, but the empty paper stared at her like it was challenging her to try and bring her likeness there.
Eventually, after filling dozens of pieces of paper, all strewn around her desk haphazardly, she sighed and dropped her head on the dark wood. She felt her eyes sting as she held back her tears. Why did everyone always abandon her…?
Something light fell on her head. At first she refused to move. Maybe Joddy had brought her a handkerchief. Soon after, something else fell on her head, just as light as the first object had been. Irritated, she lifted her head, ready to tell Joddy to leave her alone, when two envelopes fell from her head and onto her desk. Enola looked around to see who had left them, but no one was in the room with her. She picked one up, confused on how they got there, and looked at the address. On the back, in a horrible scrawl, was her name. When she picked up the other one, it was addressed to Joddy.
Frowning, she opened the one addressed to her first, ignoring the urge to rip it open and instead using the letter opener laying on her desk. Inside was one piece of paper with a message in the same horrible handwriting. Enola had to squint to make out what was written. Her heart started beating faster as she realised who it was from.
It said:
Hey Enola!
Sorry for leaving so abruptly, I was needed back at home, important duties and all. I really hope you still wanna be my friend. If so, you can just reply to this letter by writing on the backside, it'll be picked up soon! I don't really have an address you can send it to, so just put “To Phantom” on top, and it should get to me in no time. Hope to hear from you soon!!
Love, Danny
P.S., there's something fishy going on on East Street, maybe you could check it out? Miss Esther Shelly would be eternally grateful :)
Enola always thought she was a logical woman. She was the daughter of a suffragette and was raised with the same free spirit. She had a mind for finding things and solving mysteries. Esther Shelly's murder had been another cover-up she solved easily, the real murderer locked tightly behind bars. Finding her had been logical, just by following the clues and using her brain did Enola find most things around her.
But some things were not meant to be logical. Like letters appearing and disappearing without a trace, like the letters Joddy could somehow read without being literate, like the strange boy with black hair and blue eyes. Enola had tried her best to find a logical explanation for his appearance in her life, but maybe some things were meant to just be strange and illogical.
Enola smiled as another letter landed in front of her on her desk, her name in a now familiar chicken scratch on the back. Maybe it was for the best she didn't think too much about that. At least now, she had a friend. A strange one, but a friend for sure.
She didn't have to be alone.