Enola Holmes - The Witch

CHAPTER 1

Now, where to begin?

My name is Alexandra Thompson, my mother insisted I be named that for its strong meaning - protector of mankind. She would constantly tell me, "You were born to fight, to protect those who cannot protect themselves." and I live by that. My father was never really around, so my mother practically raised me, despite my father's persistence to simply get me a governess. My mother, sadly, passed away when I was 12, and as of her last wishes (which I did not know of until much later), I spent my days with Enola Holmes, my best friend, and her mother, and the evenings with my father, which were now worse than before, all things considered.

Between my mother and Enola's, I was taught many different things, such as reading, science, history, the basics, plus hand to hand combat, archery, sports of all kinds (I especially like tennis), and it was amazing. We did anything and everything we wanted, within reason of course. To avoid my father, I would wake up as early as possible and walk to Enola's home, which wasn't far considering we were neighbours. I would leave after supper, and my father made sure to pay her a decent sum of money every now and then for "keeping me out of his hair".

A week ago, on the July morning of Enola's birthday, I awoke rather early, grabbed the present I had made her, and walked to her house only to see it looking rather empty and less full of life. Her mother had gone missing, and on her birthday. She'd left Ferndell Hall, their home, at some point during the night. And she did not return. She had left Enola with little, bar some gifts that she instructed Mrs. Lane to give me at teatime.

Presently, Enola is on her way to collect her brothers from the train station, while I wait in the empty house. I wandered the halls, looking for anything that might help, though I know Enola already combed through everything for a sign of her mother. I went to the spare room, the one that I tended to stay in on days when I knew my father would be most hateful towards me. As I walked around, I noticed that my bedside table drawer, the one I always leave shut and had never truly used, was open a bit. Curious, I opened it further, expecting to see it empty, however there was a small envelope with my name on it. I opened it cautiously and read it aloud, knowing full well that my window overlooked the front door so I would notice Enola's arrival, and that Mrs. Lane was taking a short break in the kitchen. Inside was a small note.

My Lily,

Though you may not really be my lily, you will always have a place in my heart as though you are. There are many paths in life, so choose the one meant for you, not the one others choose for you. It's your life, how will you live it?

Best Wishes,

Chrysanthemum

Lily, a flower that stands for a mother-daughter relationship, is one that I was always fond of. Chrysanthemums are also beauties, and symbolise familial attachment, and just so happen to be Enola's mothers' favourite flower. I looked out the window and noticed Enola and her brothers approaching with a carriage. I put on my hat, one I didn't find that uncomfortable, a pair of super comfortable gloves, and left my room to greet everyone. I had always been polite and proper when I needed to be, the one good thing that came out of my father's "lessons". I walked down the stairs and noticed Mrs. Lane, and decided on following her. We walked outside and I noticed Sherlock Holmes, a face now very recognizable from the papers, and Mycroft, one I had only heard about.

"Gentlemen, welcome home. It's been some time." Mrs. Lane said. I walked a little in front of her and introduced myself.

"Hello, I'm Alexandra Thompson, I live next door, though I spend my days here learning. How are you two?" I asked as politely as possible.

"Well, thank you." Sherlock said, shaking my hand with a very sincere smile.

"Ah, well, at least you have some manners, Enola could learn from you. Now, please, answer me this, if you live next door why come here to learn?" Mycroft followed. We all began walking inside while continuing our conversation, Enola stepping beside me.