Enola Holmes- The Fox In The Henhouse

Chapter 30

Sherlock lifts the kettle off the stove and gently pours the boiling water into the tea cup, watching the water hit the tea leaves and turn into a soothing dark brown. He strains it, and after once again checking that no one is around, he takes a vile and syringe from his pocket. He pierces the cork of the vile with the syringe, and draws some of the clear liquid out, before removing it and squirting it into the tea. Finally, he stirs in sugar to try and cover the taste.

Enola had been recovering well these past 2 weeks, despite her best efforts. Watson had given clear instructions detailing the importance of rest, but even a broken ankle and bullet wound isn't enough to keep her in bed. Sherlock and Mycroft have repeatedly confiscated various case files and old newspapers that she's been using to try and work on the Nigh case. It took a while for Sherlock to figure out how she was even getting these, but it transpired that she had convinced Mary Watson to hide them in Watson's medical bag, where Enola would retrieve them after his visit.

Sherlock places the tea cup onto a small tray and carries it to Enola's room. As he opens the door to her bedroom, laughter erupts from her and Mrs Hudson as they sit at a table with cards and coins layed out onto. As soon as they hear him entering they try to pack everything away, to disguise the fact that they've been playing poker despite repeatedly being told not to.

'Good afternoon, Sherlock.' Mrs Hudson chirps, failing to impress him.

'You know Mycroft's view on Enola gambling. And all this excitement isn't good for her.'

Despite his stern tone, Enola just laughs. 'It's probably best we stop. I don't know if I can afford to lose anymore!'

Sherlock turns away from them to disguise his smile as he rests the tray down on a side table. Usually Mrs Hudson has the deductive skills of one of her scones; except when it comes to poker. Then she miraculously gains an intelligence sharp enough to rival that of Mycroft's.

Once Sherlock finally finishes herding Mrs Hudson out of Enola's room, he turns back towards Enola. 'I brought you some tea. Drink it and then we'll get you back into bed. You must rest.'

'Mrs Hudson mentioned something very interesting.' Enola responds, with the kind of smirk that leads Sherlock to believe he's not going to enjoy whatever she has to say. 'About the amount of gifts tewksbury has sent me.'

He was correct.

Damn it, Mrs Hudson. Ever since Enola left the hospital Tewksbury has been persistent in his attempts to visit Enola. After Mycroft made it clear that he was not permitted to do so while she was recovering, there had been an influx of letters, flowers and sweets sent here. They had mutually agreed not to let Enola see any of these, as doing so would cause her to want to see Tewksbury.

'... We didn't want to over excited you while you were still recovering.'

'I knew it!' She exclaims, causing Sherlock to realise that Mrs Hudson didn't in-fact tell her, and that she had simply tricked Sherlock. 'I can't believe you kept them from me, I demand to see them.'

Sherlock sighs. 'I will give them to you, if you drink your tea.'

Enola looks at the cup with one eyebrow raised. 'Deal.'

Sherlock leaves the room, sighing with relief that Enola didn't suspect anything. He goes into the dinning room, which now reeks of sweet, sappy pollen as this is where they've stored the abundance of bouquets. He takes the one that rests in the middle of the table as it seems the most innocent in appearance. While he knows very little about the language of flowers, Mycroft had spent many agonising hours reading the booklet mother had made, sputtering at the messages of affection that Tewksbury intended to send Enola, muttering about how it "isn't proper".