𝔸𝔻𝕍𝔼ℕ𝕋𝕌ℝ𝔼. 𝔼nola ℍolmes

𝕋𝕎𝕆 brothers are wasteful.

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 is that I'm currently on the way to collect my dearest brothers, Mycroft and Sherlock. Names, which backwards spell; weirdly, tforcym and Kcolrehs. Perhaps one shouldn't read too much into the "anele" thing.

Also, yes. Sherlock Holmes. The brilliant and well known detective, scholar, chemist, virtuoso violinist, expert marksman, swordsman, singlestick fighter, pugilist, and deductive thinker. My extremely intelligent brother. He will find mother and sort out this fallacious mess out. I'm confident in that.

I straightened my posture and stared ahead firmly. I stood next to Enola as she and I prepared ourselves. Only to be ignored and walked past.

I smirked. Enola and I turned. And it was her whom had called out to them, "Mr. Holmes?"

We stepped closer just as the two of them turned around. "And, um, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock answered quickly. "Yes."

"You sent for us, hadn't you?" I inquired, raising one brow. "You sent a telegram. Asked us to meet you here?"

And I lied. The final thing you all need to know is that as I stated earlier, I hadn't remembered my brothers very well. And I suppose nothing less from them. Which is why they stared at us as if we were two strangers.

The two men exchanged glances. Obviously, it was the detective who'd figured it out first. "Enola and Elena."

"My god." Mycroft whispered to himself. He looked disgusted. And I tried to hold back my laughter, as I watch his mustache waver from his words.

He gestured towards Enola. "Look at you. You're in such a mess." He did a once over on me and almost recoiled in distaste. I, on the other hand, watched as Enola lifted up her long brunette hair to see a dirt spot on it. She patted it down and it hide underneath her hair.

My dark violet dress was dirtied up in the most strangest places. I had been riding on the back of the bike as best as I could. Already having scrapped knacks and sore legs, when she fell, it only worsened for me. At least I didn't land on my face, like Enola did. I landed on my back. Which, made me realize that tomorrow I would feel that pain.

"Where are your hats and gloves?"

"Well, I have a hat. It just makes my head itch. And I have no gloves." Enola answered carelessly.

I nodded. "I am allergic to all gloves until I am forced to wear them."

Mycroft turned to Sherlock in despair, it seemed. "They have no gloves?"

"Plainly not, Mycroft." Sherlock stated. I sent him a small smile. He didn't seem to be too upset over this fact. Unlike, Mycroft.

Mycroft's unbelievable gaze landed on us once again. "We didn't send for you two, silly girls. We sent for the carriage. Did either of you at least bring it?"

"The carriage?" Enola questioned. "Yes." Mycroft confirmed slowly.

"What carriage would you be wanting? Because we have a few in mind—" Enola was cut off.

Mycroft seethed, "The carriage I pay for."

Enola's small smile slowly faded away. As did mine. I don't presume he knows. "Right. I think you may have us confused with another house."