Enola Holmes- The Fox In The Henhouse

Chapter 11

I've never been kidnapped before, but I'd always imagined it to be much more eventful than this. I suppose reading an extensive amount of books about pirates affected my view, and perhaps I should be glad that I do find it boring, for if I were to be kidnapped by a pirate I could be forced to eat my own ear or have my mouth sewn shut. Instead, I spend my days confined to my room. I wake up, lay in bed and read until it's too dark to do so. Then I let the myriad of questions I have about the case swarm inside my head.

The only break from this are the visits from George. They are few and far between, due to the fact that he has to sneak past the servants and goons. I actually enjoy our talks. He obviously has no one else to talk to about his love of literature, and so he is practically bursting to discuss metaphors and alliteration with me. It is useful for me to indulge him, as he brings me whatever food he can steal away, and occasionally he'll let useful information slip.

From what I can gather, Lord Nigh is out most of the days, and while this officially leaves George incharge of the house, that rarely seems to be the case. Also, the majority of the servants were temporarily dismissed and the remaining ones have been led to believe that I'm Lord Nigh's mentally ill niece. I must give Lord Nigh credit for this, as it will explain any odd behaviour either he or George display. If it were true I'd be a great source of embarrassment to the family, and not something to be discussed in polite society.

I hear footsteps, and am disappointed to see the newspaper slide under the door, rather than George shuffling in with a book. Regardless, I hobble forward and pick it up. As per usual, I flip over to the personals and begin to scan through. I've done this everyday I've been here and I've never seen anything; until now.

As soon as I spot code I sit up and begin to decipher it in my head. It's a series of 2 digit numbers, and I correctly guess the code used. It looks complex but is easy to decipher. First you split the alphabet into 5 rows of 5 like thus.

A B C D E

F G H I J

K L M N O

P Q R S T

U V W X Y

Since Z is seldom used in words it can be lumped together with the Y.

The first number in the personals is a 15. So, to get the letter you look at the 1st row and the 5th number. E.

The next- 23. That's the 2nd row and the 3rd number. H.

I continue on, which takes me a considerable amount of time given I have no pencil, until I have deciphered the whole message.

E.H - If you have run away, please let us know that you're alright. S.H

I let the paper drop to the floor as I feel my face turn red. How can Sherlock possibly believe I have run away! I had suspected it before, so this shouldn't be a surprise, but yet anger floods my entire body. I take the pillow from behind me and hug it, before repeatedly punching it, and then hugging it again.

The anger settles, and I'm left with only sadness. I try to think of other things, but my mind constantly drifts to my brothers. Smartest detective in the world! Utter tosh. 

If he's not going to solve this case, then I will.

I bolt up, an insane idea flooding into my brain. Perhaps in any other circumstance I'd dismiss the idea as ludicrous, but since I've done little and made little progress in over a week, I'm going to declare it brilliant!

I sit in bed, ideas and plans bouncing around my brain before I finally decide I'm ready to enact stage 1. I stand up, leaning on the wall and trying to grab the crutch they left next to the door. Eventually I'm able to grasp a hold of it, and then proceed to jab it against the door loudly.

The wooden door to my room is sturdy and won't budge, but I'm not trying to move it, I'm trying to get attention. It takes about 10 minutes of banging and yelling before I hear some heavy footsteps stomp up the stairs. The door opens and in walks a man who I haven't met before. I can tell he's one of the goons Lord Nigh hired before he even speaks. His face is already sweaty and red from ascending the short flight of stairs.

'What's you want?' He tries to seem calm, but the noise I caused clearly alarmed him.

'I wish to write a letter. It's important.'

His brow furrows and he lets out a gruff 'No,' before attempting to shut the door.

'Wait!' I stop him and he peers round, already annoyed with me. 'It's a letter to Lord Nigh. He will want to read it, I assure you.'

He thinks about this for a few seconds. 'Alrigh', I'll bring you some paper.'

Once again I stop him 'No. This is a proper letter. I saw in the study they have a writing desk. I wish to use it.'

'I'm not suppose ta let you out.'

'It will only take a few minutes.'

'No.' he replies flattely.

I sigh dramatically. 'I see.' I hobble back to the bed, looking deflated. 'Well I suppose I should take that as a compliment.'

He pauses, crossing his arms and furrowing his brow in confusion. 'What d'ya mean by that?'

'Well, you think I am so dangerous, that even when my foot is broken you don't want to let me go downstairs on my own.' He doesn't move, so I add 'When will another guard get here, so that I will be allowed to go?'

Clearly my argument hit the mark, as he puffs out his chest with a huff. He proceeds to undo my chain and escort me as I hobble downstairs. When I finally reach the desk, he looms over me, watching my every move.

I carefully select my paper and a fine ink pen, and begin to write. I quickly deliberate about whether or not I should use third-person, as is conventional when writing to a stranger. However, while I don't know lord Nigh personally I think we're, at the very least, acquaintances.

Dear Sir,

I am writing to request a discourse with yourself over dinner at your earliest convenience. If you agree, I will require a few items for the evening and I would be very grateful if you could acquire them for me using the money I had previously kept on my person. I would myself, but as you're probably aware, I am otherwise detained.

I will require an evening dress, a corset and some basic hair pins and makeup from Ebenezer Finch & Son Emporium.

Please write back with your response.

Hoping this letter finds you in good health

- Enola Holmes

I review my work. While I certainly don't hope this letter finds him in good health, it is social etiquette. Once I'm pleased with it, I place it in an envelope and finish with a red wax seal. I even ask the guard to fetch my hair pin, and while he's sceptical, he does so. Tewksbury gave me the pin as a Christmas present, and it has an Iris (my favourite flower) as a signet that I use to press down the wax. Afterwards, I'm brought back up to my room where all I can do is wait. 

The next day, along with the daily newspaper, I receive my reply.

Dear Madam,

I was delighted, if not surprised, to receive your letter and would be honoured to have you as a dinner guest on the 13th of October. The items you have requested will be purchased, and delivered to you  in the morning.

- Lord Michael Nigh

The game is afoot.