𝒆𝒍𝒆𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒄 𝒕𝒐𝒖𝒄𝒉

𝒄𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒘𝒐

✩ ☽ ✩

Gradually she walked back to the centre, this time being careful who she passed and whether anyone was following her. Wandering down one of the very busy streets, the weather turned bad in a matter of minutes; the sky clouded over, and black clouds appeared. Betty felt she was chilled to the bone; with the arrival of the rain, she had lost all hope of drying out. So, she paddled along, resigned to the night on the street.

As time passed, she no longer looked at the road, so it was no surprise that she found herself on the ground for the third time in a day.

„Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to - I'm really... sorry -" a girl's voice echoed over Betty's head. She was relieved that the said Sherlock wasn't standing over her. She stopped it with a gesture and got back to her feet. Her gaze swept over the girl in front of her; she was young, twenty at most.

„Enola," she offered her hand, „I'm Enola." Betty paused silently at the name but shook her hand with a small smile: „Betty. And don't worry about it, I've kind of gotten used to it."

Enola nodded with a smile, measuring her with interest. „Where are you going?" She asked eagerly. Betty shrugged helplessly and sighed. „Oh," Enola's smile loosened and she ruffled her long light brown hair. „I can take you," she offered back. „I'm going home, to a flat here in London, that is. My home is... elsewhere," she added after a pause. „Do you live far away?"

„Farther than you can imagine." Betty willingly got into the taxi-cab opposite Enola. „What are you doing, anyway? In London, I mean." „Ou," she waved a hand in mock boredom, but there was an excited sparkle in her eyes, and she straightened up all over, „I've opened an office and I'm handling some cases. I'm a detective!"

„Detective?" Betty repeated, noticeably more bored. „Exactly! Isn't that great?" „Yeah. Downright fabulous, I'd say," she uttered. „I've got some luck on you..." she muttered quietly enough to herself.

„Why are you like that?" Enola pointed out her appearance. The dirty white shirt, the spotty grey trousers, the dishevelled hair (not even a bun could save it, after all), the pumps, all of it completely wet and sticking to her body. Underneath the shirt, a razor was visibly hiding. „I mean," Enola blurted bluntly, „I don't care about appearances, much less clothes. I'm not like my brother! You just look... well - how can I put this - a bit... er, eccentric?"

„I have a rather special reason for it," Betty replied, and the girl's words didn't seem to faze her in the least. „And," she held up her hand as Enola took another breath, „I don't think I want to talk about him."

Soon she was climbing the stairs at the accommodation where Enola offered to share her room for night (or more). Betty, of course, accepted without hesitation and with gratitude. The room was indeed nice, and the view was worth it too. There was a vase of flowers on the chest of drawers, just as there had been in her home, only there were many more. „Thank you," she said sincerely. Enola didn't answer and just nodded.