65Disclaimer: I don't own Enola Holmes.
This is the sequel. Let the games begin.
WARNING: If you have not read the first story in this series: "Enola Holmes", I highly suggest you go do so. It will be confusing if you did not.
LONDON
NOVEMBER, I GUESS, THE TIMELINE CAN BE A LITTLE WONKY AT TIMES.
"You know as well as I, that we would not be in this deplorable situation," The younger of the two men informed the older man, "If you had not tried to bully her into boarding school." He is slouched in his chair, every inch of his body emitting his displeasure at having the other man near him.
"Oh please, brother, what other way would you have me act? Must I always play the villain? You've even influenced our sister." The older man retorted. He was tall, although not as tall as his younger brother, and was stouter. He was standing in the disorganized flat, an umbrella twirling at his fingertips.
"Our sister." Murmured the great detective, who was sitting down in his favorite chair. "Our sister who managed to elude both of us, and is now doing who knows what to survive. She is alone in this city, and we both know how dangerous this place can be."
"Why Sherlock," His brother stated, "Is that concern I detect? Such behavior is not like you. I thought, personally, you would be jumping at the chance for another, as you put it, case."
"Which one, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. "The case of our missing mother, who has tricked you into setting up our sister for escape, or the case of Enola Holmes, a missing teenager who is lost in London?" He jumped up to stand, and began to pace very quickly.
"Our mother," Mycroft began, "A woman who had a very small hand in Enola's upbringing. While our Mummy spent hours painting posies, Enola was running wild, it was our Mummy who embezzled funds which should have gone to educating our sister. Instead, she was the one who abandoned the girl."
"On her fifteenth birthday." Muttered the pacing man.
Mycroft rolled his eyes, "Birthday or any other day, it does not matter. Mother deserted Enola, therefore it falls to me, the eldest to look after-"
"And you impose your will upon her?" Sherlock laughed, hard and cold. "We've seen how Enola acts. She did set up a scheme for you and me. She is quick-thinking, although her mind is not even close it ours. She is a rebel, Mycroft. I'm afraid a more gentle hand would have to be taken, if one wished to have her act-"
"The only rational way to break in a horse is with discipline, Sherlock." Mycroft cut in harshly. "You of all people should see the logic in that."
After a moment or two, Sherlock said softly. "Logic is not everything, it seems."
Mycroft snorted, "Certainly the first I've ever heard you say that! If you are so fond of her, then you can try and find her in your own way. But why is this different from any other case?"
Sherlock turned to Mycroft. "You're hiding something." He stated.
Mycroft remained still, not showing any emotion. "She is our sister, albeit so much younger that I could count the times you've met her on one hand."
"...She reminds me of myself at her age. Tall and gawky, not fitting in-"
Mycroft interrupted him, "Preposterous! Nevertheless, the most important thing is this: who do you propose we find her?"
Sherlock remained silent. "Why do we find her? Why not simply leave her be? How much harm-"
"You know as well as I do that there's plenty harm that could come to her. She is fragile, if you will. She cannot handle herself."
"She certainly handled herself when she jumped out a window."
Mycroft was losing his patience. "Do not think I didn't realize that you avoided the question. What are you going to do, Sherlock? I like to think that I know you well enough that you're not going to just leave this. What do you usually say? The game is on?"
The great detective remained quiet except for one small uttering. "I have a plan."
His older brother sighed. "Must you have your cloak of mystery, Sherlock?"
"There is no need in telling you, Mycroft, if I find myself in need of your assistance, however unlikely that might be, do remember that I will call you." She picked up his violin and sat back down in his chair.
Mycroft, however, did not leave. He sat down in the opposite chair, the umbrella still by his side. "There is another matter, one that might suit your interests."
They were both interrupted by the entrance of one John Watson.
"John." Sherlock greeted solemnly. He plucked a string on his violin.
A little bit breathless, John said concerned, "I saw it on the telly, are you okay?"
"Me? What? Oh yes, fine. Gas leak apparently." He glanced around the flat. The windows were blown out and there were small debris littering the floor. Sherlock looked up at Mycroft. "I can't."
"Can't?"
"Stuff I've got on is just too big. I can't spare the time."
"Put you're able to take on the case of finding her?" Mycroft inquired, scowling. "Never mind any of your usual trivia. This is of national importance."
"How's the diet?"
"Fine. Perhaps you can get through to him John."
"What?" John asked, a little surprised and out of it.
"I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." Mycroft stated.
Sherlock, plucking on another string, added, "It runs in the family. Mycroft, if you're so keen, why don't you investigate it?" Those words had double-meaning. He was also asking why Mycroft couldn't just find Enola by himself.
Mycroft answered both questions, "No, no, no, no, I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time, not with the Korean elections so…" He trailed off when the other two men looked at him. "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you? Besides, a case like this requires… legwork."
Sherlock said suddenly after a moment, "How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?"
"Sofa, Sherlock it was the sofa."
"Oh yes, of course."
"How-never mind." John sat down on the couch.
"Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became… pals." Mycroft said. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine."
John replied perfectly, "I'm never bored."
Mycroft smiled, "Good, that's good isn't it?" He stood up, and handed a file to Sherlock, but his brother did not take it. "Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends," Mycroft instead handed it to John, "Civil servant, found dead on the tracks of Batter sea station this morning with his head bashed in."
John inquired, "Jumped in front of a train?"
"Seems like it."
"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." John stated.
Mycroft went on to explain the case with a few interrupted from John and he finished with this to Sherlock, "You've got find those plans Sherlock. Don't make me order you."
Sherlock smirked and retorted, "We both know what happened the last time you tried ordering a Holmes to do something Mycroft."
Mycroft scowled and turned around to bid John a farewell. After that, he left, walking down the stairs and out of 221b Baker Street.
John turned to Sherlock, "Why'd you lie? You've got nothing on, not a single case. That's why the wall took a pounding. Why did you tell your brother you were busy?"
"Why shouldn't I?"
"Oh… Nice… Sibling rivalry, now we're getting somewhere." The doctor declared. Before anything else could be said, Sherlock got a call.
"Of course, how could I refuse?" He told the man over the phone. Soon he and John were out the door and in a cab, heading to the police station.
"You mentioned another case." John stated, as they waited for a light to turn green.
"Hmm?"
"You mentioned another case, back at the flat. Mycroft said something about finding some woman, who is she?"
Sherlock was silent for several minutes before answering. "Her name is Enola."
"Alright, well, is there a last name too?" John asked, raising an eyebrow. When Sherlock didn't answer he rolled his eyes. "Fine. Was she kidnapped or something? And how come you were complaining about being bored but you had a case already? And why didn't I know about this one?"
Sherlock scowled. "This particular case requires… time. Patience."
"Something you have little of." John muttered.
The detective continued, "As well, for right now, I have no clues." He revealed, rather reluctantly.
John let out a small chuckle. "No clues?" he repeated. "You, Sherlock Holmes, have no clues?"
Needless to say that Sherlock Holmes was not amused.
-CHAPTER THE FIRST-
I was rather shocked.
I looked at Jody. "Would you kindly say that again?" I inquired, as if he didn't say it loudly enough the first time. It couldn't be right. He had to be mistaken.
Jody, who is a handyman (although boy is more accurate) and a part-time employee who helps around the residence and Dr. Ragostin's office, repeated for me "A Dr. J-John Watson for you, ma'am."
Dr. John Watson. John of course is such a common name but Watson? My brother has associated himself with a Dr. John Watson. I know of this, because of my brother's website and because of Dr. Watson's blog. Indeed, when I found out about this, I hurried to read as much as I could. I had to know if there was anything about me, or Mum.
Unfortunately, there was none. Or perhaps luck was in my favor. That could mean that there are no clues regarding 'my case'. Unless Sherlock has decided not tell Dr. Watson.
"Alright." I said reluctantly, "Have you've informed him of Dr. Ragostin's absence?"
"Yes ma'am."
I set my shoulders straight, "Send him in then, Jody."
"Yes ma'am." Jody, a nickname for Jodpher, was not a very bright boy, but his mother lived in the residence. She was my first boarder. Jody lives with her and when I had mentioned something about needing a helper now and then, Jody jumped at the chance. Luckily, he seemed almost in awe of me, and that helped. Especially since he was only a year or two younger then me.
Once Jody left to bring the good doctor in, I let my knees shake. My whole body had goose-bumps and I felt my hands shake. All in the fear of my brother. It says so much about the Holmes family.
Taking a deep breath, I pictured my mother's face in my mind along with her voice.
You'll do very well on your own, Enola.
That did the trick, and as I was opening my eyes, a Dr. John Watson entered the room.
"Hello," I greeted him pleasantly. "Please, do take a seat by the fire. Dreadfully cold outside, correct?"
The doctor nodded and added, "Yes, it seems like you could skate across the Thames."
I too nodded. Giving him a smile, I settled my skirt around my legs and said, "Well, now you know that Dr. Ragostin is busy, sadly, but I am fully capable of listening and taking notes."
Dr. Watson hesitated.
"Please," I began, "Don't fret. Dr. Ragostin will receive my notes." I held up the pen and pad of paper I had. If my instincts were right, he had come here to check out competition or something for Sherlock.
I knew that 221b Baker Street had experienced an explosion, but Ivy Meshle wouldn't know that. Ivy Meshle would not worry if her brother was okay or not. Ivy Meshle was not Enola Holmes.
I had come up with the name Ivy Meshle. Ivy, for fidelity; then you take the word Holmes, split up the syllables (HOL-MES), reverse each syllable, (MES-HOL) and then spell it the way it sounds (MESHLE). Simple.
Dr. Watson ahem-ed, getting my attention and said, "Uh, I, well, I run a blog."
"Oh!" I chimed, grinning. "You must be the Dr. John Watson. You work with Sherlock Holmes, correct?" While Ivy Meshle would not have heard about the explosion on Baker Street, she would, being the dutiful assistant/secretary to a Scientific Perditorian, know about any other 'detectives'.
"Uh, yes, he doesn't know I'm here, you see." John added.
My nerves went out the window. Sherlock didn't suspect a thing. I told him dully, "Continue."
"I was, well, getting, concerned in a way. You see, I was hoping that Dr. Ragostin would help find someone."
And hello nerves.
Dr. Watson continued, "Sherlock Holmes is an odd man, I won't lie about that, and while he is usually somewhat cold, he seems to be more so than usual lately."
I wrote this down, keeping notes.
"So I went to a mutual, uh, friend, of ours, Detective Lestrade at Scotland Yard, and asked him if he knew anything. He replied, telling me that Sherlock is looking for a girl."
"Well aren't most men?" I joked. I never clapped a hand over my mouth, that hadn't meant to come out. Luckily, it wasn't said with the tone I had been using in my head. It came off as a lame joke.
Dr. Watson chuckled quietly before continuing, "Yes, well, this girl is related to him. She's, uh, his sister."
I'm dead.
"Ah." I said quietly. "What is her name? What does she look like?"
"Enola Holmes. And I'm told that she's tall and thin, with a long face and a-" He paused for a moment. "A pronounced, um, chin and nose. She's apparently quite, bony and very-um-"
I held a hand to pause the slight stuttering man. "No need to be polite here, Dr. She has a large chin and nose, and a not very feminine build?" I knew that I looked a lot Sherlock and so I tried putting in a pair of rubber devices inside my mouth, one in each cheek. These devices, however, where actually intended for filling out another, unmentionable part of the body. But they were helpful it making my bone-structure less sharp and more full.
The doctor continued, "She's very tomboyish too."
"Is there a picture that Dr. Ragostin may use?" I asked, trying to keep in laughter.
"No, she has appeared to stay away from any photos."
"Really?" I inquired, sounding shocked, "Not one little photo? Oh well, is that all?" I knew that missing all of the school picture days would be a good thing.
Dr. Watson shook his head. "There's one more thing. Her mother is missing as well."
You'll do very well on your own, Enola.
"Oh?" I said once again, keeping my voice light. "How terrible! What is her name? What does she look like?"
Once he supplied me with Eudoria Vernet Holmes's name and age and a few other facts about my mother and I; I informed him. "Thank you for your time, but I'm afraid that Dr. Ragostin will probably not take this case."
Dr. Watson looked confused. "Excuse me?"
I put away the notes and pen and then gave him a steely gaze. "Do not think that I don't see a spy when one is right underneath my nose!" I exclaimed. I stood up suddenly, as did the doctor. I was disheartened that I had to act in such a rude way to the kind man, but I needed to have a reason why I-Dr. Ragostin- could not take this case. "Sherlock Holmes, the World's Only Consulting Detective! Not being able to look for his own mother and sister? I doubt they even exist!"
He looked flabbergasted. "What?" He said, outraged. "O-Of course they do!"
I raised an eyebrow.
"Listen," He tried taking another approach. "I've seen Sherlock, he is sincerely acting odd! We had a case, a walk-in a few days ago, a Mr. and Mrs. Alistair, their daughter went missing and he had the strangest look on his face! Then before they even finished, he kicked them out, turned down their case."
Ah, it seems while trying to rid of one case, I stumbled upon another. "Besides, why should Dr. Ragostin even take this case? Another detective helping another detective? Sounds like a lie too good to be true. I suspect that Sherlock Holmes has sent you here to 'stake out' the rising competition." I didn't let Dr. Watson get in another word. "While I am honored that Holmes thinks so highly of my boss," I let my sass slip out, "I'm afraid that the Scientific Perditorian might not have the time for this case."
Dr. Watson looked at a loss for words before saying a final goodbye. "I'd like to speak to Dr. Ragostin personally, still."
"Fine. I suppose that if he does take it up, I'll be able to find you at 221b Baker Street?"
He cocked his head to the side.
I told him, "The doctor and I are both readers of your blog, and Holmes's website."
Then, Dr. John Watson finally took his leave.
Once he left, I sat back down, suddenly exhausted. Again, the cold came back to me, as it was forgotten by my nerves. I tucked back a piece of red-gold hair. I wore a wig when I was Ms. Ivy Meshle.
I felt bad on what I had done, treating him so rudely, but looking back at it, I was grateful.
I pulled out the laptop that was hidden in a drawer of the desk I was behind. I typed into the search engine: Alistair-missing daughter.
As several small articles popped up I felt a smile come on me. It looks like Dr. Ragostin had a case after all.
THE END
Wow, that was a long chapter. I'm thinking about the timeline a lot… Right now, it's somewhere in the third episode and between the second season. I felt that Dr. Watson's visit was a little forced, sadly, but that was very canon, and I couldn't just cut it out.
What did you think? If you're just tuning in, I highly suggest reading ENOLA HOLMES, the first book in this series. It's on my page. I'm afraid that you won't get very much without that. It sets everything up.
And for people who have followed me through that story, thank you! This is it! Let's begin!
Please review! And with that out of the way, it's time to say-
-GP2 OUT!