Enola Homles 3 - Holmesbury Fanfic

SIX

Enola's POV:

A familiar voice shouted my name over and over... I knew who it was but why couldn't I see him? The last I saw was Tewksbury's scared face hovering over me, his lips mouthing my name in a supposedly loud voice. I remember I responded something before darkness overcame me. 

And now here I was. My subconscious mind still kinda able to hear and feel everything thankfully, but not see consciously. 

"Enola! ENOLA!" His voice shouted again. I felt his strong arms carry me off the ground. My scratches didn't hurt, but pressure on the side of my head signaled that there was a very big wound there. I could feel Tewksbury running across the grass, with me in his arms. But one question scared me to death.

Will I ever wake up again?

___________________

"Grandmother!" Tewksbury yelled into the wide hallways of Basilweather. "Grandmother!"

"Tewksbury, whatever is wrong-" the Dowager froze midstep when she noticed Enola's unconscious body in her grandson's arms. Tewksbury was breathing heavily.

"Bring her to the guest room. I'll send some servants."

The young lord nodded and ran to the stairs. He struggled a bit with carrying Enola up the long steps but he barely noticed. He had one goal and one goal only: to make sure Enola was safe and tended to.

Once the young lord reached the guest room, he gently laid Enola on the nicely made queen bed. He tucked her with the thick bedsheets before scavenging for a comfy blanket to throw over her.

He touched her cheek with his hand. She's so cold...

The servants arrived at the room with a bowl full of lukewarm water and a soft towel. The other maid had another tray with bottles of medicine to help with the scratches and wounds. The young lord sat on the edge of the bed as the two maids rested the trays on the nightstand. He stayed to watch them tend to Enola.

Please rest, Enola. Once you're ready, please come back.

Once the maids finished tending to Enola's wounds and scratches, they hurriedly cleaned up and left the room. Tewksbury soon followed, closing the door behind him.

"How is she?" Edith suddenly appeared, the old lady on her heels. Tewksbury reeled back in surprise but eventually nodded.

"She's doing well, not awake yet."

Edith entered the room. The Dowager stood next to Tewksbury, watching the hostess of the tea room gasp at Enola's unconscious form. Edith tried helping to clean what was left of the worst of the scratches and the wound on her head.

"Poor darling," the old lady whispered. "A strong girl she is, Tewksbury, she'll pull through."

Tears threatened to escape the young lord's eyes. 

"She is strong, Tewksbury," Edith said, overhearing. "We'll do everything we can but in the end, it's up to her."

A concerned expression crossed Tewksbury's face. "What do you mean, it's up to her? She's still alive!"

"Yes...but this sleep is different,"  Edith said softly, draining a damp towel before placing it on Enola's forehead. "It's called a coma. I've not heard much about it myself except that the person remains unconscious until... they decide to wake up."

"But of course, she'll wake up. She has to!" Tewksbury protested. 

Edith sighed. "It's not always up to them. She can still hear and feel what's going on around her. The only thing is... she's not exactly consciously here with us like you and me."