My Mr.Holmes

Chapter 13: The quiet between storms

Sofia's POV:

This was a case I would never forget. I fell in love, lost a friend, and watched Enola help save countless young women. That alone made every sleepless night worth it.

After the whole McIntyre ordeal, James and I returned home together. Sherlock stopped by to check on Enola before he left, of course. James paced the floor for hours, frustrated we hadn't been able to stop McIntyre ourselves. I made tea to settle him and reminded him that now we at least knew who we were truly dealing with. That counted for something.

Life returned to a kind of normal. I went back to the bookshop. James resumed his work as a lord. We were both relieved that Will had found justice, but the unresolved nature of it all still lingered in the back of our minds.

I had lunch with Enola a few days ago. She told me about the success at the match factory, and I was so proud of her I could hardly say it aloud. Enola Holmes — determined, graceful, sharp as ever. We spoke briefly about our brothers, mostly to complain about how maddening they were. That part hadn't changed.

She'd become something elegant, almost ethereal. And I... hadn't. At times, I felt out of place among James's guests. I'd play the piano, serve tea, bake little things for them, read aloud if prompted. They thought me perfectly refined. But I didn't feel like a lady, not in the way they expected. I was just me. I knew I was fortunate, and I tried to act the part, but I missed the adventure. I missed the danger. The unexpected. The way Enola made the world feel wide open.

Someday, I would find a way to be more than just content.

⸻

Sherlock's POV:

My routine had settled back into something familiar: wake, work, sleep, repeat. I'd become comfortable again in solitude, but the more I pretended that I didn't mind it, the more I realised I missed something, or rather, someone.

This morning, while reading the paper, a headline caught my attention. It was all I needed to rise from my chair and make my way to her.

She was at her desk, working on her typewriter, when I dropped the paper in front of her.

"Seems your boy has learned how to fight," I said.

The headline read: LORD MCINTYRE ARRESTED. If anyone could've made that happen, it was James Tewksbury. I had underestimated him before. I wouldn't make that mistake again.

Enola grinned. "Indeed." But her smile faded just a little. "He's not my boy."

I smirked, she never missed a chance to point that out.

My eyes caught the flyers on her desk. "Pay what you can? And what will they pay you in, potatoes and gratitude?"

"If that's all they've got," she said. "You can keep the lords and ladies. This is where I'm needed. Besides, Edith's promised she'll be kind with the rent."

I knew she was right, but I still worried.

"You know... if you wanted something more... refined, I was thinking..." I met her eyes. "Holmes and Holmes?"

Her surprise was immediate. "A partnership?"

I already knew the answer.

"That's a generous offer," she said softly. "But I'd always be in your shadow."

"Hm. Yes," I replied, trying not to let the disappointment show.

She smiled. "Still, I like this version of you. No one should be alone all the time. A friend wouldn't hurt."

"I'll write that down," I murmured, then added, "I'll drop by. To check on you."

"I'd like that," she said. "And maybe i could stop by Baker Street sometime. Let me check on you for a change."