65Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or Enola Holmes.
ENOLA HOLMES AND THE CASE OF THE LEFT-HANDED LIAR
-CHAPTER THE EIGHTH-
Alexander Finch look very nondescript in the photograph. I was sure I had not seen him before, since I had never come to this side of town before and I had never visited London before, but I felt as if I had seen his face previously.
Shaking the odd feeling in my stomach I wandered the store, looking for him. I passed by an employee area, where above in an alcove I could see a large office. My ears perked up when I heard the arguing. I immediately slowed down my footsteps, showing interest in the merchandise nearby.
The conversation went like this:
"... some chaotic colors, one would expect from a bleeding mentalist!" An older and manly voice yelled. "Change them straight away!"
"Yes sir." A tactful and low voice replied.
The door from the office opened and out walked the very man I had come to see. Alexander Finch.
I caught a glimpse at a steaming Ebenezer Finch, his father. The father's face was beet red from arguing. Alexander's face, however, was like a stone wall. Completely calm and stoic.
"Don't you dare think of leaving, you hear me?!" Ebenezer called out to his son.
Without turning around, he replied, " Yes sir." Alexander walked down the metal stairs quickly, heading towards the main part of the store.
I hurried to catch up with him, and when I did so, I said, a little breathlessly, "Excuse me, Mr. Finch…"
"May I help you, miss?" He asked, not unpleasantly. He turned around, letting me get a good look at Alexander Finch. He was not dressed dully, as most of the employees working at the store. He wore a bright blue scarf and a grey blazer. His slacks were also grey and his shoes were polished impeccably. I was suddenly reminded of what I was wearing, and how we had similarities. I wore bright blue flats, the same color as his scarf, darker grey slacks paired with a comfortable jacket the same color. I was dressed quite fetchingly, I might. I wondered briefly, if Alexander was the seducer, would he might be interested in me?
I scoffed internally. TO compare myself to Cecily Alistair was to compare a drunken giraffe to a graceful gazelle. I shoved those thoughts aside and focused on the case at hand. "I find myself a little lost and unsure, there's so many fascinating things. I was wondering, if you could help me…" I trailed off and murmured to him, "Mrs. Theodora Alistair sent me." I can't deny that my heart did beat faster when I finished my whisper. How would he react?
I was disappointed, in a way. Alexander Finch only reacted by raising his eyebrows briefly in surprise. He recovered quickly and fell into my charade. "If you'll just walk this way, miss, I'll be pleased to assist you."
He led me to towards a different side of the store, towards the women's clothing section. Our destination ended at a counter where a young willowy girl was stationed at. To her, Alexander ordered, "Disappear."
She did, without a smile or frown.
I glanced at Alexander, his tone had been low and neutral. Did he intimidate all of the clerks, or was this her usual manner with him? After all, the girl was young and doe-eyed, and he was the boss's son.
Alexander slipped behind the counter, offering me a neutral smile. "Now, miss, here we have the latest in ladies' footwear." He brought up a faux ivory leather boot, with laces up to mid-calf."
It might have looked suspicious if we were just conversing, plus, I had no desire to attract the attention of the two policemen I had noticed walking into the store.
"Mrs. Alistair is taking matters into her own hands, you could say," I explained, "she has hired, outside help… from a private detective." I could have said Scientific Perditorian, but that would have required further explanation, and I had no idea how long I would have with Alexander."
"Quite so. Something for spring, you said?" Alexander pulled out a white open toed shoe with a ridiculous heel.
I pretended to admire said footwear while continuing, "The police have been no help."
"I'd say, all they do is sit outside and watch me, but my father is so vexed that he won't even let me step foot out the front door."
"Do you live at home with your parents, then?"
"No, I stay with some of the other workers, in a flat next door."
I glanced to my sides, and continued my questions when I noticed no eavesdroppers, "Why is your father so angry with you?"
"Because I forget my place, as he says." Alexander scowled briefly. His eyes lit up and met mine, "How rude of me, may I offer you a seat, miss?" He gestured to a wooden seat that was next to the counter.
"No, no thank you I'm fine." I replied, a little flustered. I was beginning to see what Cecily Alistair saw in this young man. Beyond the almost bland exterior was an intelligent mind, and some other, less definable qualities.
Indeed, for a moment I felt quite uncomfortable as he leant forward and studied me through his small framed glasses. I was about to turn away when his face almost split into a smile; realization lit up in his eyes and with a smirk-like expression he asked, "I believe we have met before. May I ask, what is your name?"
"Certainly, you may ask." I answered, controlling my tone as best as I could.
A tense moment came and passed before he realized that I was not going to give up my name willingly, or at all. Alexander surprised me by dropping the subject all together. He grabbed another show from behind the counter. "I prefer the boot with laces, you see. You get a tighter… mold, to the limb." His tone, again, was completely neutral, and only had a hint of something that couldn't identify. He grabbed the bootlaces strands and pulled, tight, creating a tiny waist where the ankle would have gone.
I studied this absentmindedly. "You said your father thinks you don't know your place, what does that mean?"
"It means that just because one is born in a palace, or in a barn, whether one is born with money or hasn't a penny to their name, whether ones' blood is impure or not, doesn't matter to me." I caught Alexander's hands tensing the slightest bit. "What does it matter, one's age, race, gender? I'll befriend anyone, help anyone-"
I saw his hands tense again when the word help came out of his mouth. "Cecily Alistair needed help, did she?"
Alexander's eyes met mine. Coolly he replied, "Flat tire on her bicycle. I was riding by on mine and stopped to patch it. She had no clue on how to take care of one, you see. We got to chatting-"
"Alexander!" The voice of Ebenezer Finch was loud and suddenly very near.
Quickly Alexander switched the conversation, "If you want to put in a special order, or put these in hold, then we'll need-"
"Alexander! Why-" Mr. Finch Sr. stopped and stared at us, like we were an unknown object in his shop. "You're helping a customer… Fine then."
After his father departed without another to word, (Ebenezer did not even acknowledge me) Alexander continued, "Cecily was surprising, to say the least. She was… loud. Curious. Some would even say, rebellious."
I grinned on the inside. I was beginning to grow fond of Cecily, despite never knowing the girl.
"She thought our meeting was fate; she asked me to show her everything. Museums, the docks, the-" He paused for half a second before continuing, "the slums. She asked me to show her the dirtiest streets and roughest of blocks."
"Oh!"
Alexander met my eyes, "What?"
I shook my head, "Nothing, sorry." I just realized how Cecily drew her charcoal sketches. She saw these things, just as I saw them. "You took her to St. Giles, and the fish market at Billingsgate."
A small frown appeared between Alexander's eyebrows. "Yes, how did you know that?" He paused for a beat before continuing, "She would arrange to go out with friends and then meet me afterwards. I would escort her around town, showing her the sights, answering her questions."
"What kind of questions?"
"Endless ones," He answered, drumming his fingers along the counter to some unknown rhythm. "Why were there so many pawnshops. How expensive are cabbies. Why is one painting worth more than the one next to it. Why were there children running around without parents."
"She wanted this knowledge for something, why?"
Alexander's tone became a little less pleasant. "To make a scapegoat out of me."
I was surprised at his answer. "What do you mean?"
He mimicked me, "Could it not be plainer? She has gone off somewhere, and here I am, taking all of the blame."
Quietly I told him. "Perhaps she didn't realize that you would take the blame."
In the same volume, he asked, "Why the ladder then?"
So that her family would think that the young naive girl who painted the sugary pastel paintings was not harboring a secretive, rebellious side, and was just a silly young thing that went off with a seductive man.
I asked Alexander Finch one last question. "She didn't confide in you at all? You haven't any idea here she has gone?"
"I have no idea where she could have gone." He answered. The young man started to rearrange the display of shoes that were behind the counter. He turned, showing me his profile, and added, "I think that Cecily Alistair walked right out her front door and put that ladder there herself."
IT'S BEING UPDATED SO SOON. YAY. Also, sorry that it's short. I hope that the next chapter will be longer.
I promised that I would update better, and I have! The next chapter might take some time, because right now I have to focus on the timeline of the Sherlock show. I'm in season 1 episode 3. However, Sherlock will make an appearance not next chapter, but the chapter after that, so chapter tenth, he'll make an appearance. I think.
Reviews:
RedtailHawk19: Thank you for reviewing! I'm glad you liked this chapter. Enola is pretty intense at times, really though, she just doesn't like stupid people, and Jody wasn't being very intelligent at the time. I always liked that part in the book because Enola actually got really upset and impatient.
Black Night15: Thank you for reviewing! Yeah, I'm going to try and work on updating better. At least with this story.
VampireHuntress72095: Thank you for reviewing! I'm so glad that you felt that way, and that you got that, because that's really an under thought of the books that I was trying to portray. I actually remember not liking Cecily at all the first time I read the books, but now I like her more. She will meet Moriarty, she will. I just, I'm unsure on how to put that in right now, but they will meet! Also, I'm curious to that as well, I want to figure out how they will interact.
Anyway, please, please review!
With that out of the way, it's time to say-
-GP2 OUT!