Not So Alone ~ Enola Holmes x Viscount Tewksbury

Reunited

With a little modern touch ;)

Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God. He was bleeding. On the ground. Heavily panting. Bleeding.

It made me woozy. Before I fainted due to the heaps of blood, I ran downstairs to the lobby.

"I need help, someone! M-My friend was shot by one of the maids!"

Unfortunately, the other women were carrying rifles as well.

Everyone seemed to have a gun. Everyone was chasing after us. Even the motel inhabitants were firing off their guns as soon as they opened the door to me.

I needed to take him to the hospital. But he was too heavy.

My only choice was to confide on the two men I had been running from all this time.

I picked up the telephone and put in the number. "3... 0... 2... 4... 6... Dial."

They answered at the second ring, "Hello, Holmes Manor. How may I make your acquaintance?"

"Sherlock," I sighed. "I need your help. My... friend has been shot."

"What!? Who?

"Viscount Tewksbury, Marquess of Basilweather. Please, no questions. I'm at Lotus Motel in Sandhills, Oxford."

"Sandhills? What are you doing over there?"

"Running. Now I told you, no questions. Just get here, quickly! I can't call the hospital because all the inhabitants here turned out to be lunatics with guns!"

"Okay. Be there in ten." Sherlock hung up.

I paced to and fro. I tapped my foot on the floor. I drummed my fingers on the desk.

He came in a helicopter. Totally inconspicuous.

"He's really bad." Sherlock was here.

Go ahead, cheer. Clap your hands. Round of applause. Sherlock Holmes is probably your greatest hero. That's why I was hesitant to let him come, but Tewksbury needed it.

"Nice boy you found there," he said. I couldn't help but slap him for that.

Together, we lugged Tewky into the chopper and we flew to the hospital.

The doctors took him on a stretcher into the emergency room.

Sherlock left me be, claiming he had work to do and he hopes I wouldn't need him again. I waited in the lobby for what seemed like days; though it was only a couple of hours.

Soon, I drifted off to sleep. I dreamed of the same thing over and over. Tewksbury getting shot in his stomach...

Someone shook me. I had to get them away. I was in pain and I needed to mourn.

"Enola. Enola!"

I awoke and gasped. It was Tewksbury! "Oh, how worried I had been!" I reached out and gave him a big hug.

He winced. I looked down and saw that his stomach had been plastered with bandages and in the region he had been shot, there was a blood stain. "Sorry..."

"No worries. Thanks for getting me here!" he smiled.

"Well, I had some help. I was lucky enough to get Sherlock on the phone. If Mycroft had answered... I probably wouldn't be here...

"Anyway, how long until you get out?"

"A couple of days."

"How many exactly."

"Five... but I can still roam around the city with you!"

"Good. Want to get something to eat at the cafe next door?"

"Sure!"

Tewky couldn't walk properly with his wound so I pushed him in a wheelchair.

We picked up two mini pecan pies and headed to the register. I looked around as I was in line. My eyes widened.

What's Mycroft doing in Oxford?