An Enola Holmes Mystery

Chapter 6

"What in the world were you thinking?" Sherlock yelled as he paced the parlor. An open telegram lay on the table in between the two of us, addressed to Sherlock in Tewkesbury's handwriting. It laid out what had happened and how the attack had transpired, adding that they had taken me in afterwards to ensure I had proper treatment. It also included the small detail that I wasn't planning to tell Sherlock about it. I was standing there placidly as Sherlock paced the sitting room, outwardly calm but seething inside. The last thing I needed right now was my older brother preventing me from finding out who had attacked me and why. The fact that Tewkesbury had informed him personally of what had happened increased my irritation with him as well. He knew I was unsure of telling my brother about it, and had decided to inform Sherlock anyway without my consent. 

Sherlock was furious, I could see, but whether it was because I had been attacked or because he knew I wasn't going to tell him, I was unsure. We were exceptionally similar to each other, and it was an irritation. It was a different type of irritation than it was with Mycroft. With Mycroft, he was so different than I that we constantly fought. With Sherlock, it was an irritation that was bothersome, but we could work out our differences. Surely this time would be no different. 

"You're being very emotional today, Brother. It is not necessary." I said, trying to stem his flow of incessant grumblings. 

"You are my ward, Enola. The fact that you weren't going to tell me what happened disturbs me just as much as the attack." Sherlock said, finally stopping his pacing and sitting on the sofa opposite me. 

"You trust me to take care of myself, and that is what I intend to do. I will solve this case, just as I have solved so many others. It was the housekeeper who killed the girl in the last one, if you still haven't figured that out." I commented dryly, wanting to end this conversation quickly.

"Even the best detectives know when they will require help. You're exceedingly independent, Enola, and if you're not careful one of these days, you're going to get yourself killed. And yes, I did know it was the housekeeper three days ago." Sherlock added.

"You must be losing your touch. I found it out five days ago." I said, trying to turn the conversation from its present course.

"You're attempting to distract me. It's beneath you." Sherlock said, steepling his fingers together while looking at me with a look of deep contemplation.

I held my head high despite my aggrievance that Sherlock had called me out. "If you were in my position, you would want the conversation to be concluded quickly, no?"

"Perhaps, but that doesn't mean you'd let it happen. You'd persist on knowing the details, and then insist that you would help. I am the same, Enola. Just because I know you can take care of yourself doesn't lessen my concern for your safety." Sherlock said gently, while reminding me once again of our similarities, which were more a hindrance than a help currently.

I thought for a moment, then responded. "You have made your points, Brother, now let me make mine. This case affects me personally; I will be the one to go after my attackers. Your points are valid, and because of that, I will concede to let you help me when I deem necessary, but not outside of that."

"Oh, Enola. Must you be so proud?" Sherlock stood again an walked to a desk that sat in the corner of the room, coming back with a newspaper. "You won't like what you see." He warned as he handed the day's copy to me.

The front headline read Famous Private Detective Attacked. My face grew heated. Not only would my reputation now be at stake, but the whole of London would be interested in me, which would hinder, if not halt completely, any and all investigations I would conduct. I quickly skimmed the article, catching small snippets like "Sherlock Holmes is unavailable for comment at this time" and "women should be continue to be discouraged from participating in dangerous detective work". My blood was boiling. The politics in this country were rubbish, and this one article all but shouted it to the public. I wanted to find who had published this and give him a piece of my mind, but knew that in light of the article, that would be very unwise.

"And the thing we care for the least raises its ugly head once more." I sighed angrily, tossing the paper on the low table in front of me. 

"If you are referring to politics, I agree. I have been shamed by public works before, but the next case solved always pushes it back. It may or may not be harder for you, as you are an amazing lady detective, but you still need to be careful. These type of stories can bring out the best in some people, and the worst in others. It might be best if you alter your identity for awhile. Your landlady will need to be informed of the change as well until people have calmed down. Please be safe, Enola." With that, Sherlock, took the paper and his cane and strode out of my residence, closing the door behind him. 

I leaned forward and put my head in my hands, sighing deeply. My temper was still near the surface, and as I had nothing and no one to vent it out on, I took deep breaths and held it down until I was calm once more, at least for a little while. Sherlock had left the letter on the table, and seeing it made my irritation spike again. Anger surged through me at the violation of trust, but an undercurrent of contentment at the fact that he cared stilled me. Why did he and my brother have to be so complicated and frustrating? They'd better both not show their faces at least until my training with Edith, where I could vent my frustrations about the both of them, especially that nincompoop. 

And then there was the case itself. MFE was the only clue I had, and it could either be an acronym for a name, an organization, or both. But why would they give me a hint? Did they want me to find them? Surely they knew I would track them down eventually. I took out the note from my bag, reading it through again. What could they want?

If you know what's best for you and those around you, disappear and never return. This is your only warning.
-MFE

Well, if this was my only warning, then I'd better find the answer quickly.

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Another surge of inspiration overtook me, and this is the result. What do you think of the Enola/Sherlock dynamic? 

As always, let me know what you guys think! This fanfic is for all of you, so let me know what you want to see happen.

~IcyCat

Also, we hit 700 reads! We're so close to 1K, you guys! Let's make it happen!