holmesbury one shots

one of the girls finale

it was night. everything was dark and everything was quiet. While Mycroft and Sherlock were in there bedchamber's sleeping, Enola in the other hand was down stairs inside the kitchen eating ice-cream. Ice-cream is basically therapy for enola it made her happy eating a big wad of ice cream when has a bad day, and it helped her. A lil bit. 

Enola stood in the kitchen, the rhythmic ticking of the clock echoing the tumult of her thoughts. The weight of Mycroft's words hung heavy in the air, each syllable a painful reminder of the truth she had long sought to evade.

She gripped the edge of the countertop, her fingers trembling with a mixture of anger and despair. How could Tewkesbury betray her trust so callously? How could she have been so blind to the deception that lurked beneath the surface of their seemingly perfect romance?

As she stared into the depths of her bowl of ice cream, swirling the cold confection in a futile attempt to find soothe herself, a wave of defiance surged within her—a defiance born of the refusal to confront the harsh realities that lay beyond the veil of illusion.

But beneath the veneer of defiance lurked a gnawing sense of uncertainty—a nagging voice that whispered of the inevitability of truth, of the futility of denial. Mycroft's words echoed in the recesses of her mind, a relentless reminder that she could not continue to hide from the reality of Tewkesbury's betrayal.

With a heavy sigh, Enola closed her eyes, allowing the truth to wash over her like a tidal wave crashing against the shores of her consciousness. She had spent too long clinging to the shards of a broken dream, too long yearning for a love that had long since withered away.

And yet, amidst the wreckage of her shattered illusions, a flicker of resolve ignited within her—a resolve to face the truth head-on, to confront the demons that haunted her heart, to emerge from the depths of despair with her spirit unbroken.

For she knew that true strength lay not in the denial of reality, but in the courage to embrace it—to acknowledge the pain, to confront the betrayal, to reclaim her sense of self-worth in the face of adversity.

And so, with determination etched upon her features, Enola squared her shoulders, her gaze fixed upon the uncertain horizon that stretched before her. Armed with the knowledge that she was stronger than the sum of her fears, she took her first tentative steps towards the daunting journey of self-discovery—a journey illuminated by the unwavering light of truth.

Enola ascended the staircase to her room, each step a solemn reminder of the turmoil that had engulfed her heart. As she reached the threshold of her sanctuary, she was met with the stark reality of the chaos that lay within—a disarray of scattered belongings and tangled emotions.

With a heavy sigh, Enola surveyed the cluttered expanse of her room, the weight of her own indecision mirrored in the disarray that surrounded her. How had she allowed her life to descend into such disarray, both figuratively and literally?

Faced with the daunting task of confronting the mess that she had unwittingly created, Enola knew that she could not bear to face it alone. And so, with a sense of reluctant resignation, she reached for her phone, her fingers trembling with uncertainty as she dialed the number of her trusted maids.

"Hello?" came the familiar voice of Mrs. Hudson, her unwavering calm a beacon of reassurance amidst the storm of Enola's emotions.

"It's Enola," she began, her voice betraying the strain of her inner turmoil. "I... I need your help. My room—it's a mess, and I just... I can't deal with it right now."

Mrs. Hudson listened patiently, her words a soothing balm to Enola's frazzled nerves. "Of course, dear. We'll take care of it right away. You just focus on taking care of yourself."