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Most Unconventional

Summary:

In the years after her first case, Enola continues to fly in the face of every tradition she meets. Her brothers come around eventually and Tewky, well, he never really minded in the first place.

Chapter Text

17

"I don't think I'll ever be fully used to seeing you in skirts," Tewky declares as hands her out of the carriage.

Enola accepts his help, then links her elbow with his.

"I should hope not. They're quite cumbersome, but until ladies in trousers are accepted at court events we shall both have to bear with them."

"Hmm. You could also continue to avoid court events entirely. You're the one who demanded I escort you to this one. On a case?"

Enola sighs in what might be defeat. The again, she never really expected Tewky to accept her rather flimsy excuses in the first place. He smirks a bit, taking her lack of verbal response as the confirmation it is.

"Alright then. Who are we to socialize with so you may gather your clues?" he inquires.

She gives him the names of her suspects as the doorman takes their cloaks. He nods thoughtfully, offering suggestions for who will be better coerced by the punch bowl and who will be more enticed by a dance. It is not as bothersome as it once was, accepting his help. Speaking of bothersome, however.

"My dear sister. Viscount Tewksbury."

Mycroft greets them a few steps inside the door with a stiff bow.

"Mycroft." "Mr. Holmes." they reply, nearly in unison.

"It is good to see you in proper company, sister." Mycroft observes, "But do take care that your name not end up on the society pages for any unpleasantness."

"I'll keep her out of trouble Mr. Holmes," Tewky answers, cutting off what would have been her rather more curt reply with his eyes dancing.

Mycroft, of course, is not particularly well-versed in the moods of Tewky's eyes. He accepts the reassurance and moves on to bother some politician or other.

"Keep me out of trouble will you?"

"Or at least keep you out of it alone," He amends.

"Hmm."

(Later in the evening as Tewky's carriage provides them a quick exit, Enola is in fact grateful for his presence.)

18

"Happy birthday dear sister!" Shelock announces, bursting into her sitting room.

Enola looks up from her work.

"Is it? I'd quite forgotten."

Sherlock seems to have forgotten as well as he peruses the papers spread out over Enola's desk. There's a map of London, some legal documents, and the blueprint of a townhouse that Enola was poring over when her brother arrived.

"What's the case?" he inquires.

"Missing jewelry. Something is off with these blueprints. I'm probably going to have to sneak into the house to figure out what though."

"And how will you do that?"

"Chimney sweep seems the most likely option..." she muses

"You'll get filthy!"

"Really Sherlock. Like you never have."

"That's different. I'm a-"

"And I will be too." She cuts him off decisively.

He was the one who figured out she was the "boy" who jumped from the train, really, the idea of her crossdressing again shouldn't scandalize him all that much. Nevermind the dozens of times she's done it since then. Though, of course, he doesn't exactly know about those.

"Be careful will you" he responds, somewhere between a question and a command.

"I will. Now, you were saying it's my birthday. I think this calls for cake."

19

"How is this place still standing?" Enola laughs, as they climb up to Tewky's old treehouse.

She's borrowed a set of his outgrown garments to allow her ease of movement; her own men's clothing is back in London and not fit for high society besides.

"I have the groundskeepers make sure it stays in good condition," he admits. "I'm in London so much that when I'm back here at the estate, I want it to feel like home. It wouldn't without the treehouse."

Enola hums in acknowledgement. They chat for a while, catching up on family, and work. They see each other in the city sometimes, but it's generally among company with no real chance to say more than how-do-you-do's. She's busy with cases, him with governing. Now and again they have the chance to send letters back and forth, but it isn't as often as it once was. His invitation to the countryside had been a surprise, but hardly an unwelcome one. She had been between jobs anyhow.

"Enola?" his voice brings her back from her musings.

"Yes?"

"I...well, I must confess I had an additional motive for asking you here. Not that I'm not happy just to talk."

"An additional motive? Do you have a case for me Viscount Tewksbury?"

"I do it fact. The case of the Unmarried Marquess."

"Am I to find you a wife?"

"By looking in a mirror, perhaps."

Enola had been leaning casually against the trunk of the tree but at his pronouncement she scrambles to her feet.

"You cannot be serious?"

In contrast, the Marquess has not changed posture, still reclining and relaxed.

"I am perfectly serious Enola! Ferndell is not titled, but it is a respectable estate and you and your brothers have brought dignity to the Holmes family name. My mother would not object I am sure, and you cannot tell me your brothers would be unhappy. You told me the last time we met that they still expect you to marry."

Enola's shoulders slump, but she does not sit back down. Instead, she begins to pace.

"It is not an altogether horrible prospect I suppose." she begins, as she crosses, back and forth, the short span of the treehouse, "But Tewky I simply cannot be bound up in all the intricacies of a wedding, I have too much to do. And once we are married, what then? Am I to give up my work to have your children? Surely your mother would expect it."

"Do you think so little of me?" He asks, rising at last and placing his hands on her shoulders. "You would be my wife, my mother could not make demands of you that I would not. And being a Lady would open doors for you in some of your cases. What I am proposing is a business arrangement between friends. Nothing more."

"I'll...I'll consider it." Enola manages, before she twists away and flees.

20

For her twentieth birthday, Enola orders herself a suit. Well, she doesn't tell they tailor she's buying herself a suit, she tells him it is for his brother who is about her size. With her chest bound and her hair tucked away under a hat she bought along with the clothing, Enola surveys herself in the mirror a month later. Excellent.

She descends down the steps of her current rooming house, and traverses the now-familiar streets of London until she reaches her brothers' club. She takes a deep breath and enters.

"Excuse me sir, this is a private club." greets the doorman frostily.

"I am Mr. Semloh, here at the request of the Holmes brothers, and I demand entry," Enola replies, deepening her voice and trying to infuse it with the pompous tone that Mycroft, Sherlock, and even Tewky seem to use when they feel they are being disrespected.

The doorman eyes her suspiciously, but she lifts her eyebrow and he relents.

"Very well sir. The Mr. Holmeses are in the back right corner."

Enola nods frostily and strides through the entrance to the main part of the club. She scans the room quickly. Finding her brothers exactly where the doorman said they would be, Enola instead goes to the bar and orders herself a whiskey. Drink acquired, she then directs her steps towards the back right corner.

"Mr. Holmes, Mr. Holmes," She greets them.

Sherlock squints suspiciously; Mycroft speaks.

"Have we met?"

"I don't believe so." Enola returns, struggling to keep a smile at bay so as not to give up the game. The dim lighting of the club helps, and she continues. "But I have heard of you by reputation, and may need your assistance."

"Our assistance?" Sherlock asks.

"Indeed. My sister has gone missing."

Mycroft's lips purse; the corner of Sherlock's mouth twitches upwards.

"They do tend to do that." Mycroft replies.

"Tell us," Sherlock takes over, "Is there any indication as to where she might have gone?"

"To Gretna Green, I think," Enola replies. "There was a gentlemen she often spoke of, but I never met him. If she suspected I would disprove, she may have decided to elope."

They chat for a bit longer, and Enola makes her exit.

21

The doors to the apartment burst open. The footman scrambles in the wake of the Holmes brothers storming through them.

"What is the meaning of this?" Mycroft demands shaking a newspaper at the couple breakfasting near a window.

Enola looks up from her own copy. She also takes a bite of her apple, watching Mycroft's face get redder and redder as she chews.

"Well I should think it was quite obvious," Enola answers, once the has tormented her brother to her satisfaction.

"We got married," Tewky adds, in case it wasn't.

"You most certainly did not 'get married.' You eloped!" Mycroft disputes, "And then announced it to the world anyways. With no warning to your families whatsoever!"

"I did warn you," Enola replies. "Nearly a year ago, in fact. Plenty of time to resign yourselves to it, as if you haven't been pushing me about marrying for ages anyways."

"Mr. Semloh, at the club" Sherlock states, realization coloring his voice.

"Rather odd that he didn't put it together sooner isn't it?" Tewky says to Enola, as if her brothers aren't right there.

"Rather." She responds, in the same tone.

Sherlock and Mycroft let out twin sighs of defeat.

"I suppose there's no chance of you being a conventional wife, is there?" Sherlock says, his tone resigned.

"Don't be ridiculous Sherlock. I was never going to be a conventional anything."

Chapter 2

Notes:

WOWOWOWOWOW I have been absolutely blown away by the response to this story!!! Thank you to everyone who has left kudos and comments, to everyone who has bookmarked and subscribed. y'all are AMAZING. You asked for it, you got it. Presenting: Most Unconventional-Part 2

Chapter Text

22

"Bloody hell if I have to deal with one more bothersome prig telling me I'm too young to have an opinion I shall go utterly mad." Tewksbury huffs as he arrives home from a day at Parliament.

Enola looks up from her book.

"What is it this time?"

"Oh, everyone is up in arms about what to do about the goings-on in France."

"Hmph. And no discussion of anything going on right here in London of course."

"Of course not. I'm going to take a trip to the estate this weekend I think, clear my head. Care to join me?"

"Lovely as that sounds I've got a few cases on and I'm due at Edith's."

"Alright then."

The day of Tewky's departure comes soon enough, and Enola waves off the carriage from their front door. Once it is out of sight, Enola sets off towards the tea house where Edith still presides.  She goes directly upstairs.

Dressed in her loose white uniform, Enola allows herself to get lost in the familiar motions of the drills before being called to spar. The new girl she is facing is very, very good, but Enola has the experience to win out in the end.

"Well fought my dear," comes a voice from near the door.

"Mother!" Enola exclaims, flying across the room and into Eudoria's arms.

They embrace, then leave the training area in favor of a pot of earl grey on the bottom floor.  It's a lovely way to spend an afternoon.

23

Many things have changed over the years. For one, Enola is now fully capable of properly carrying herself so that a whole stack of books wouldn't wobble on her head.

Many things have not changed over the years. For one, Enola still loathes the full skirts required for society events.

She has, however, learned to adapt. Every gown she owns has plenty of hidden places for her to squirrel away small knives, a notebook with charcoal, and a few other select tools. It's something she's grateful for as she rushes down an alleyway after a man who had hurled a brick through the window of the event she had been attending.

The hem of the gown is irreparably ruined despite her lifting it up to run, but the small compartment built into the bodice still holds everything she put there including the throwing knife. Enola hurls it down the alley-whoops, there goes a seam- and it embeds itself in the man's shoulder. Enola starts running again as he stumbles, catching up to him and pinning him to the side of the building.

"Who sent you?" she demands, pulling the blade out of his shoulder.

"Nobody" The man answers.

"Someone sent you. Who was it?"

"Nobody sent me!"

"Nobody?"

"Nobody!"

The man pulls free, wincing in pain, and hurries away. Out of his pocket, a piece of paper flutters-a drawing of a man with one eye in the center of his head.

"Nobody." Enola repeats, thoughtfully. 

Good thing she's read the Odyssey a dozen times over-the game is afoot.

24

Elam Semloh has become a regular at the Diogenes club, along with his close friend Viscount Tewksbury, Marquess of Basilwether. The two can often be found in the back right corner along with the Holmes brothers.

"Really Enola, I don't see why you can't just send that husband of yours. He would of course keep you informed," Mycroft huffs, exasperated, one evening as they puff on some cigars. "It would be an utter scandal if you were caught."

Tewky and Sherlock are at the bar retrieving a round of drinks.

"An extra set of ears is always appreciated. But if you would just allow women into the club in the first place, I wouldn't have to cross dress to get about my business."

And really, it's an open secret that Enola is Elam, Elam is Enola. But Mycroft likes appearances and Enola enjoys her men's getup anyways so she might as well have a chance to use it. 

"You're never going to win this battle, brother," Sherlock says as he and Tewky return and distribute glasses of whiskey.

"Really Mycroft, at this point I've known her as long as you have and I've figured out quite well that Enola's decisions are hers alone."

Enola hides her smile in her glass. The difference, of course, is that Tewky had never expected to have undue influence on her. Several years in in their marriage is still going strong. They found a lovely townhouse to serve as their home. Enola had found she enjoyed decorating it far more than expected, from paintings on the walls to cushions she can lounge against while reading.

Yes, Enola thinks as Sherlock turns to ask her about her latest case, things are going along quite well.