Love never dies | Sherlock Holmes

Chapter III ~ Arguments

   Evening darkness fell over Frendell Hall, burying the surrounding fields, orchards and houses in blackness. As I had promised Sherlock, I stayed for dinner, much to Enola's delight and Mycroft's dismay, who, although he hadn't distinctly objected to my presence, seemed bothered by me. I confess that Mrs. Lane's excellent food was a decisive factor in my choosing to stay for dinner, accompanied, of course, by the author of the invitation. 

   -Tell me, Elizabeth, how is your life? I guess you are already married! Mycroft asked, sitting across from me at the dining room table. 

   I finish chewing my steak, then stare at him, searching for a polite answer that will satisfy him. I peek at Sherlock's expression as he stands next to his brother, clenching one of his fists tensely. I am not hasty in my excitement, for he might be disturbed only by indiscretion, not by the possibility of me belonging to another. 

   -Fortunately, I managed to cross the road of life in my own company, to fulfill my dreams, to discover myself and to develop as a person. It was and will be enough for me at the moment, I answer as if I had received the most trivial of questions. 

   I focus on those in front of me after smiling at Enola. Mycroft grimaces, certainly not amused by my curmudgeonly response, and Sherlock seems to relax, continuing his meal. 

   -And your parents? As I remember, the respectable baron was looking for a husband for you while I was at home, wasn't he, little brother? Mycroft seeks the validation of his brother, who does not tire of supporting him. 

   -Unfortunately, my dear parents left us far too soon, I answer impassive. They were on the train that derailed before Christmas almost a decade ago. That very day I had turned eighteen. 

   Silence falls in the room and Mycroft looks like he's trying to say something, his lips twitching constantly. 

   -I'm sorry to hear that, I hear Sherlock's voice. 

   In a strange way, I think I'm the only one who found a hint of gentleness and empathy in his tone, because the way he said it, so formal and theatrical, wouldn't suggest any kind of emotion. Too bad I know him better than that. 

   I feel Enola bump her leg against mine under the table, a sign that she's with me, and Mycroft joins his brother in condolences. Dinner continued quietly, and I was able to enjoy Mrs. Lane's incredible steak.

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   As I was about to leave the Holmes home, I was stopped by Sherlock and the more needy Mycroft to join them for the evening. Curiously, they chose the pool room, where I sat in the chair under the scoreboard, listening to the older one's complaints. 

   -What is she up to? She was too old to remarry, she had no passions or ambitions I was aware of. She simply had to ensure Enola a decent life and to live her remaining years with dignity. 

   -That's what she's done so far, I comment, scanning the room. 

   -This is my house, not hers, Mycroft continued, hitting a ball and ignoring me. and has been since Father died. She asked for sixteen years to bring up Enola here. I gave it! And for that I deserve to be robbed? I'm not the villain here! 

   I roll my eyes, snorting, and Sherlock looks back at me. I read the agreement in his eyes, then say: 

   -Perhaps she needed the money. You clearly don't, or has the government cut your salary? 

   Mycroft grimaces, but doesn't answer me, instead turning to his brother, who lets out an amused chuckle. 

   -Why are you laughing, Sherlock? It's always yhe same, isn't it? Always the same. We don't see each other for months, and then you blust in without a care and condemn me with your bon mots.

   -We should assume that was Elizabeth, right? 

   -But you thought of it. Whether she said it or you did, you two always think the same. 

   Sherlock turns back to me as he tightens his grip on the cue. I'd blush like a child if I didn't know better, though he seems to agree with what his older brother said. But whatever, the last part. 

   -You've never shown an interest in this family, Mycroft states as Sherlock hits a red ball, then moves towardsme. 

   I watch him reach over me, changing the score. 

   -I don't mean to judge, he says, meeting my eyes, then turning away. 

   -We have two problems, as I see it. One, finding a boarding school that is willing to take Enola on so she won't be a complete failure in this world. That I am in the process of solving with the help of an old friend. And two, finding mother. The first is my problem, the second I consider yours. 

   It's hard for me not to impose my vision, my soles tingle in anticipation and my throat eases from the weight of the words that want to come out of my mouth. 

   -Let me propose that a boarding school is not a solution for Enola. Totally absurd, to be honest. I think she is exceptionally trained practically and intellectually to handle the world and receive acclaim! I blurt out, trying to retain all the diplomacy I have to brush off Mycroft's impassiveness. 

   -I think I am the only one in position to decide what is right for my sister's sake! 

   -Enola may prefer to stay here, Sherlock interjects, to whom I thank in my mind. You could acquire a governess. 

   -She needs a firm hand, Mycroft says, looking at both of us. We need to break her and build her up. 

   -Let me give you a personal example! I rush. I have never liked firm hands and principles and would have preferred to receive an education based more on culture and reality than embroidery techniques. Yes, Enola has so far had what I would have liked, she is used to a universal thinking and different from what is taught in a finishing school. It would be ideal for her to have a governess to replace her mother in practices. 

   -Elizabeth, let me remind you that Enola is my ward. A wild and dangerous woman brought up a wild child. 

   -Eudoria is a formidable woman! I counter, screeching up from my chair. 

   -Enola seems inteligent, Sherlock confirms. 

   -I assure you that it is much more than that, I say, looking at him. 

   -With Miss Harrison's help, we will make her acceptable for society. Father would be turning in his grave. An uneducated, underdressed, poorly mannered wilding! 

   Mycroft raised his voice, his face blushing considerably. 

   -Your sister has more knowledge than any young lady her age! She is extremely ready for the world, and yes, she may not be mannered, but it is well known that intelligence and behavior are closely related and essential to the formation of reputation and personality. Enola is exceptional, you just have to open your mind to observe her abilities. 

   Once I finish my sentence, I leave the room, wishing them a pleasant evening and heading towards the mansion. 

   I spend the night thinking about Enola, about a way to save her from the cruel fate her brother is assigning her, and, though I would never admit it, how handsome Sherlock Holmes looked in that chemise that was falling off his body.