florence - enola holmes

saving tewkesbury

do i wanna know?- arctic monkeys

"uhm... could i possibly sleep in your room tonight enola?" i ask my worn out sister.
"i guess flora." she begins.
"thank you tha-"
"on one condition." she tells me sternly, pointing her finger at me.
"what?" i whine.
why does there have to be a condition?
i'm too scared to sleep in my own room.
can't she just let me sleep without a hassle?
"i get to ask you questions."
"ok?" i say.
shouldn't of said that.
i get changed into my sleeping clothes and sit across from enola.
"soooooo." she coos.
"what?" i ask, i have no idea what the girls talking about.
"you fancy him don't you?" she asks me softly.
i look down, around, up,
anywhere that's not enola's eyes.
"i'm not going to be mad at you. besides, i know you do."
"i'm sorry but i have no idea what you are talking about." i say, getting under the rather itchy blanket on the bed.
"flora yes you do. i can tell by the way you talk about the boy, the way you look at him, the way you react when i talk bad about him." she goes on.
"i was only with him for two days, that time span can't show anything." i tell her, hoping to just avoid the conversation all together.
"whatever you say flora, whatever you say." she says before drifting off to sleep.
do i fancy him?
do i fancy viscount tewkesbury, marquess of basilwether?

enola and i are currently in a horse-drawn carriage, head to toe in black.
the carriage bumps up and down as we ride down the gravel trail to,
no other then,
basilwether hall.
home to viscount tewkesbury, his mother, his uncle, his grandmother, and their servants.

*enola*

when looking to travel incognito,
it's safest to travel as a widow.
people are always anxious to avoid conversations about death.
widows scare them,
and there's no better disguise then fear.

enola brings her handkerchief to her face, wiping away her fake tears.
she decided to have me be the deceased husbands daughter.
why?
no idea.
we both stick our heads outside of the carriage windows, admiring the beautiful house before us.

"miss may beatrice posy. and miss cordelia posy." the man in the george washington looking wig states.
enola lifts up her black veil, putting it over her hat as i simply look up.

*enola and florence*

tis i.

"for the lady tewkesbury, marchioness of basilwether." the man says as he sharply turns around walking away.
i turn around hearing a creak behind me, as the two other men close the large door.
the man turns sharply at the end of the hallway, walking into a room on the right.
i look around at the guards, their eyes don't move anywhere.
only straight ahead.

"what's your business here?" sir whimbrel asks us, more directed towards enola,
or shall i say,
miss may beatrice posy.
"i'm a private detective, and i've come to offer my services." she responds as the family enters the room.
"my sister-in-law has all the help she needs. show them out." he orders the guard.
the man begins to walk towards us as i look towards enola.
"i believe i can help you." she speaks, stepping forward.
"you are a reporter for one of those dirty newspapers." tewkesbury's mother tells enola.
"i am a lady detective." she snaps back, rather snarky.
his mother looks at her with wide eyes before continuing. "please leave, before we make you leave."
the guard grabs enola and i by our arms, attempting to turn us around.
"i work for sherlock holmes." enola shouts.
this b-
the guard stops where he is and let's go of us both, as the family stares at us with wide eyes.
"i... i'm his assistant." she continues, both of us now turning around.
i look at enola, trying to hide the confusion on my face.
why is she saying this?
"he sends me ahead of time to prepare the ground."
"sherlock holmes is interested in our case?" the mother speaks, walking towards us with wide eyes.
"yes." enola tells her.
"and he... sent along a widow and..." she trails off looking at me confused.
"my daughter, she misses her father dearly." she says with a sniffle.
"a widow and young girl to fleece his path?" she asks us.

*enola*

a very good issue to take.
may have overthought our outfits.

she looks up at his mother, clearing her throat.
"widowhood doesn't impact on my ability to do my job." enola says quite loudly. "sherlock trusts me to-"
"poppycock!" someone shouts, as a man enters the room.
"i'm sorry, but i've heard enough. you do not know sherlock holmes." he tells us.
"oh, lestrade. so please you could make these young lady's acquaintances." sir whimbrel says to him.
"i am lestrade of scotland yard, and i'm a close personal friend of sherlock holmes."
"so you claim." enola says before looking at tewkesbury's mother. "he's never mentioned him."
"and you are not his assistant, neither of you are." he begins, pointing his cane towards us. "he doesn't have an assistant. sherlock holmes always works alone."
ms. tewkesbury looks between us and lestrade in shock and confusion.
"he's changed his ways since you claim to have know him." enola states as she walk towards him.
i stay behind, keeping up the act.
"impossible."
"ask me three questions about him, and i'll ask you three, and we'll discover who knows him best. shall we?" enola asks with a slight smile, almost acting.. interested?
"enough! this circus is not appropriate for basilwether." ms. tewkesbury announces, taking a couple steps towards them.
"she's right. leave, all three of you." sir whimbrel tells us as ms. tewkesbury exhales shakily.
"but, madam, you know me. i'm lestrade, i am from scotland yard, and i'm investigating your sons disappearance."
"he has proven useful." the older ms. tewkesbury says.
"mama.." sir whimbrel says lowly.
"i don't care if you're from the houses of parliament. leave this house this instant." ms. tewkesbury says as enola looks at him with an 'i told you so' look.
the man looks at enola as she shakes her head, squinting her eyes.
he walks past her, soon walking past me, giving me an odd look as i just continue to look down.
enola gives the older tewkesbury's a slight smile before putting her hand to her chest.
"me too." she says, shaking her head before turning around and flipping her veil back over her head, walking towards me.
i watch the family stare as i walk behind her.
"thank you for having us." i say to the guard who turns sharply and follows us.

i stand next to enola, in the middle of her and the lestrade man.
i hear all kinds of birds and their beautiful chirping until the comfortable silence is ruined.
"his favorite tobacco?" the man asks us, mostly directed at enola.
"black shag. favorite desert?"
"plum pie. his favorite composer?"
"paganini. favorite meal of the day?"
"breakfast. are all your questions about food?" he asks walking towards the carriage that had just arrived. "his favorite case?"
"the one before. favorite board game?"
the man stands still, then turns to face us.
"how do you know sherlock holmes?"
"chess." enola states with a smile. "but only with a worthy opponent." she finishes shaking a finger in the air.
"hm..." he hums, entering the carriage.
enola begins to walk towards him as i follow behind.
the carriage door swings open as he reaches out, trying to close it back.
enola starts walking towards a pair of servants, pulling her veil back over her head, chuckling for a moment.
she runs towards two men, standing side by side.
"i say! i'll pay you each five pounds... to swap clothes with us." they both look us up and down.
"you needn't wear our dresses if you prefer not to." i tell them.
they eagerly shake there heads.
"the young master, he was outside a lot. correct?" i ask them.
"could never get him inside." one of the men sighs.
"where would he go?" enola asks.
one of them slightly gesture behind them as i begin to talk.
"the woods." the man and i say at the same time.
enola looks at me rather confused, looking back up and chuckling.