Trust never dies | Sherlock Holmes

Chapter V ~ Sweet William

   I watch Enola walk to the window, her eyes fixed with a dejected expression on the little girl on the street who was selling matches. 

   -I understand very well that it is difficult for you, Enola, I sigh, approaching the place where she was sitting. 

   -Do you really? she raised her eyebrows and I frowned in confusion. 

   -What are you talking about? 

   -You didn't do anything to stop Sherlock from leaving or to make him understand that my case is my case, she speaks with a note of accusation in her voice. 

   I sigh again, taking a break to consider her statement. As much as I wanted to be on her side, I couldn't deny the truth in Sherlock's words, and while I support her in following her path, I can't help but be outraged by the trouble she causes and the danger she dares to lust after voluntary. 

   -Enola, the police are looking for you. It is not as easy as it seems. Sherlock and I just want to keep you safe and protect you... 

   -I don't need protection! she bursts out, taking me by surprise. I need to solve this case to prove who I am and what I can do, to step out of the shadow of the great Sherlock Holmes! You should know better than anyone what it's like to be defined by your family. 

   I bite my bottom lip as her words run through my mind, soul and reason. She was right, I'm the one who always told her to fight for what she wants and I'm the one who inadvertently became her example. Enola is trying to do what I have achieved, to prove to the world the potential that blossoms rooted in her soul. I can't underestimate her, stop her, or judge her choices because I have learned from the obstacles that have crossed my path at every turn. 

   -I'm sorry, I say almost strangled, drawing the young woman's attention. I would not have liked to have difficulties when I was trying to achieve what I have now. As for Sherlock... He's obstinate and doesn't want you to put yourself in any more danger. Leave him to me. 

   I see a smile on Enola's face, and as I raise my arms in anticipation of one of her long missed hugs, she doesn't hesitate to oblige. 

   -I know I've said it before, but I'll always be here for you, don't forget, I say as I hold her close. 

   -I won't, she chuckles, then leaves for Sherlock's office. So, Poppy, you're a gent are you? she grumbles, as I take the opportunity to check my mail which I see sticking out of the bag on the table. 

   In addition to coupons, cards from students and parents, and reviews from the publisher I work with, I quickly glance over invitations to high society balls as I make my way to Enola. 

   I see her sitting at the desk and I can't help but notice how well she looks in this position. 

   -Match makers' ball, she says without taking her eyes off the newspaper. Hosted by Henry and Hilda Lyon. 

   I recognize the text read by Enola on the invitation that was now in front of my eyes, and, without hesitation, I complete it: 

   -12 Marchmont Square. 

   Enola's face contorts in astonishment and she rushes to her purse, where she pulls out a damaged piece of paper. 

   -It's not a date at all, she says when I approach. Their eldest son, William Lyon, will be leading the first... 

   Again, as if in a trance, Enola fumbles in her pockets and pulls out the poem signed by poppy.

   -And all along, I thought you were a poppy...