#Enola is best girl

[smol-lydia]

On Thursday last week I went to see a preview of Enola Holmes 2 and I put together this girly kei co*de inspired by Enola’s general look! I rlly loved the movie overall and didn’t mind that it was a departure from the books it was a ton of fun ^_^

[milknhonies]

Wails of Wedded Bliss

Chapter 6 || Masterlist || Chapter 8

Chapter Summary: Upon meeting the Baroness you are enamoured by her devotion.

Pairing: Sherlock Homes x wife!reader

Chapter Warnings: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, (No Smut), typical historical misogyny and sexism, mentions and discussion on miscarriages. Implied domestic abuse and infidelity.

Word Count: 9k

Author Notes: This is an important but rather sad chapter. I beseech you all to read the warnings. The details of this chapter are important to the plot of the missing Baron Thaddeus Pennicott.

Inspiring Song: "Flightless Bird American Mouth" by Vitamin String Quartet

8:30am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock tucked your arm into his side as you three entered the Groveland house foyer. The floor was made of fine marble tile and with ever step a light echo raced down the halls.

The inspector called upon a nearby dusting maid to fetch the head of the house. Who returned was a thin and tall man in a butler’s uniform with a sliver pocket watch hanging from his chest. His hair was the colour of autumn leaves and his face littered in freckles.

He bowed, “I am mister Edward Redmayne, head butler of the Groveland estate, how may I assist you?”

The inspector shook his hand and stated quickly, “We spoke on the telephone yesterday? A telegraph was sent.”

The butler smiled with a relieving gasp, “Detective Holmes?”

Lestrade sheepishly looked over his shoulder to you and your husband. He nodded. His expression wore a emotion of embarrassment mixed with annoyance. Perhaps he was jealous of your husband’s successful published case stories. You wished you could have told the constable not to fret as Sherlock was nothing short of a arrogant mule...yet again- the mark on his face...he probably already knew that.

8:42am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Upon meeting the lady of the house, you stood frigid by your husband. You felt somewhat self conscious by her grey eyes that lingered over your dress. Perhaps you should’ve worn your Sunday best before meeting a woman of such a high status.

The baroness was unmistakably pregnant. Her belly was bold and rounded beneath her maternity gown. She had been sitting calmly on a resting chaise, knitting a small bonnet for her future child. Her hands were covered in fine burgundy velvet gloves to match her modest dress.

Her face was framed by a light brown curls, that appeared almost white in some places, twisted into a bum at the base of her neck. Her pale face was blotchy with pink flecks and slight acne.

“Lady Pennicott, I am Inspector Braydon Lestrade of Scotland Yard,” the British officer proclaimed as he bowed dramatically forward. You withheld a girlish giggle by how low the man had bent his head and presented himself foolishly, and from the corner of your eye you manage to catch the whisp of Sherlock’s smirk.

The inspector waved his arm behind him and moved aside, “-and with me is Detective Sherlock Holmes and his wife, Mrs Holmes.”

You produced the baroness a respectable curtsy, your eyes glued down to the beautifully patterned carpet. You wondered how the servants could keep it so clean and freshly unstained by dirty guests. It must have been new.

The baroness shuffled her knitting needles and ball of woollen yarn into a Whicker basket and disposed of it beside her.

A slow stretching smile graced her thin lips as she spoke to you, “Oh, are you the little dear who solved that factory match girl incident?”

You weren’t sure how to answer her question. You weren’t entirely sure what the baroness was referencing until Sherlock stepped closer with your arm still cradled in his.

“No dear Baroness,” Sherlock pat your hand gently, “That would have been my sister Enola Holmes, she has her own detective office at present moment. My wife is here on my invitation. I wished to gift her a sight of the grand park and estate while I was here upon duty.”

The Baroness cocked her head, from her ears hung pearls that swung and hung like rain drops.

“Come forth dear,” she lifted her hand and beckoned you, “I would like to have better view of you.”

You wondered if she could smell the sweat beginning to drop down the back of your neck. You bit your tongue and tried to refrain from trembling. You were nervous. Her eyes were cold but her smile warm, two conflating details that you couldn’t understand. The last thing you needed now on top of a terrible start to your marriage was to be scrutinized by a haughty pregnant baroness.

She flickered your fingers for you to bend down to her. As you leant down, you swore you could smell copper, a metalic scent. A vein on your scalp pulsed. She scanned your face of its details. You dared to wonder what she was searching for. And then it clicked...the smell...

‘Dear god, you prayed, please don’t let her smell my blood, please let this not be my blood...’

You should have sprits on some perfume before leaving baker street.

She glanced behind you and questioned angelically, “How does it feel having such a clever husband?”

Your lips opened and closed. You resembled a fish. You were stumped to answer quickly.

‘Miserable, infuriating, torturous, pleasurable mixed with a cup of agony...’

She lifted her brows until you hurriedly blurted, “He is...formidable and righteous...” you stood up tall and took a step back, adding with a monetarism of truth, “I am very lucky to have become his bride.”

‘Lucky, while incredibly resentful.’

You reached back, Sherlock adopted your arm back into his hold once more.

Lady Pennicott rubbed her belly, her eyes started to twinkle, “And soon you will have a plethora of children that will look like him I gather.”

Your eyes fluttered. Sherlock’s hand tightened around your glove and his throat bobbed. You felt hot in the face.

Yes that’s right, that’s what normal husband and wife did isn’t it? They have children. That was your role, to be the mother of Sherlock’s offspring...

You couldn’t answer.

And there. That dear girl is when you questioned for the first time. ‘Is this what I want?’ and ‘Do I want Sherlock’s children.’ Because having a knowing of his barbarism conflated a fear in your belly...would Sherlock hurt his own children if he could easily hurt you, his wife?

When you hesitated for too long to answer her again, Sherlock said with a strained tone that was masked in a hopeful joy, “One may only hope, Baroness.”

“Lady Pennicott,” Graydon interrupted, “We have come to ask you on the whereabouts of Lord Pennicott and the evening he was last sighted.”

Her eyes narrowed at the inspector and with an annoyed twinge she muttered and wiped her hands on a nearby blanket, “I already informed the police of what I was informed of by our butler Edward.”

She glanced up next her right. Mister Redmayne observed her, looking down. The pair smiled to each other. She reached out to him. She grabbed his hand and they squeezed.

The inspector laughed nervously, “Indeed but Detective Sherlock Holmes was not presently involved in the case until yesterday.”

Her eyes flickered quickly to your husband and her face flared with confusion quickly to be matched with a impressed smile, “Of course, please sit all of you as I am near a indisposition with my child,” she gestured to the mirroring chaise and a chair beside the fireplace, “Edward, please tell Martha to bring tea and biscuits for our kind service men and Mrs Holmes.”

The butler bowed to you all and left the sitting room.

Lestrade took his place on the lone chair while Sherlock sat you beside him on the chaise. You took your time to lower yourself. Sitting on your bruises was uncomfortable while another cramp hit you. Your fingers dug into his palm.

From Lestrades breast pocket he pulled out a notebook and small pencil.

“Lady Pennicott,” Sherlock softly hummed, “Please, could you tell me what your husband is like as a person?”

The woman who you believed was in her late thirties smiled and stated softly, “My Thaddeus is a noble man, good taste in wine and very devoted to his work. He likes to go hunting and we share a passion for gardening,” she glanced up at the ceiling and paused, “He prefers to plant vegetables to donate to the church and orphans, whereas I have always loved to grow my flowers.”

The way she described him, her devotion was deep and honourable. She touched her round belly.

Sherlock looked over to the fire place behind the baroness. On the mantle was a magnificent portrait twice your height, painted on the canvas was who you recognised as Lord and Lady Pennicott. He was sitting up straight on a fine red cushioned chair with his dirty blonde hair and softened mutton chops while she stood at his right and her ringed hand on his shoulder. The similarities were there but Lady Pennicotts hair had lightened in reality perhaps from all the years that separated her likeness and her reality.

“I was informed Lord Pennicott is a father of five?” Sherlock asked.

The Baroness smiled proudly and pat her tummy softly, “Six soon.”

You couldn’t help notice something was missing from the painting, Sherlock also had a similar thought.

Where were the children in the portrait? Where was a family portrait in the house?

“Forgive me,” a breath of air escaped from him, “are the children away at school?”

“Oh,” her uncanny smile remained while her brows angled down, her throat tightened as she spoke, “I fear they are in the loving embrace of angels now. All of them were taken from us by God,” her eyes glanced to you, “They came out sleeping.”

Your heart sunk to the pit of your belly with sorrow and pity.

Five babies lost, five babies gone…five pregnancies… four and a half years of pregnancy and for what? Five angels.

A woman had one holy role in life, to bare her husband children, and when a woman was defective or produced a sickly child, it was a symbol of failure in society. But you never saw it that way...you imagined it must’ve been agony to lose so many babies. One or two was a common occurrence but five? Five was a curse to experience and relive over and over.

“Well,” you interrupted Sherlock rudely, cutting him off from his next abrasive question by squeezing his hand a little too hard.

You could see the mourning in the baroness’ face. You saw the classic look of all women made uncomfortable by something a man has said. What the hell would the detective know about a woman’s emotions after how coldly he has treated all women and yourself.

You shuffled on the opposite chaise and smile softly, “I will pray this one will come swiftly and feel the warmth of their mother.”

The baroness’ face lifted and warmed. She smiled happily and nodded, “Thankyou, oh I’m just so excited! This one really is a big one, I can feel it. I hope it’s a boy.”

Sherlock was staring at you intensely as the maid Martha finally delivered a pot of tea and poured the steaming liquid. His brows were knitted and his eyes held suspicion as he kept you in his sight. You politely nodded your head once at him before reaching for a hot cup and lifting it to your lips.

Sherlock sighed and turned back to his questioning, “You would say you liked your marriage?”

The baroness appeared offended by your husband as her face wrinkled and a sneer spread her thin lips, “Of course, any woman who doesn’t like her marriage should not be married in the first place. She is a burden to her husband if she cannot perform her duties as a wife.”

Lady Pennicott leant forward and collected her own cup of tea, she delicately pinched a biscuit and dunked it into the contents.

…you felt Sherlock drag his thumb across your fingers. You felt chilly, could he read your thoughts? Did he know truly how much you already hated him and his ideas of intimacy in your marriage? He clear his throat when both your glancing eyes caught each other.

“Can you tell me what happened,” Sherlock pressed, “The night of your husbands disappearance?”

“Well...after dinner,” the baroness sighed in thought and nibbled on her moist biscuit, “Thaddeus wanted to speak with me in his office about a spending I had made a week ago. You see, I had bought a cradle for the nursery. The one we had originally was broken and beyond repair, we disposed of it a month prior. Thaddeus was not pleased with the price and claimed it was an unnecessary purchase,” she paused and set her cup aside before she touched her belly again; rubbing in soft slow circles, she began to blushed, “He was sorely hurt by my choice. He then became very cross with me and left his office in a huff.”

She looked to the yarn, to the tea pot and then finally to the painting on the mantle, “I deemed that he would find forgiveness in his heart by the morning and brush it off. I returned back to the nursery to tidy up before I went to my rooms and went to bed to sleep in my quarters of the east wing. Thaddeus keeps himself to the west wing most nights.”

The detective nodded, “What time do you believe it was when you went to your bed, Baroness?”

She hummed softly while pursuing her lips, “A quarter to nine in the evening.”

“And how did you realise your husband was missing?” Sherlock stole a scone off the tea tray and lifted it to his lips. He paused amidst chewing it slowly.

The noble woman sighed and recollected, pragmatically, “In the morning Mr Redmayne informed me on how Thaddeus took off into the night astride Arion, our prize stallion Clydesdale. Thaddeus had not returned by the next morning and that is when concern drew near. I sent members of my staff to the factories to investigate his whereabouts and none had come upon him. I knew something had to be wrong so I alerted the authorities by the second morning.”

Your husband took a deep breath and discarded the half bitten scone, he wiped his hand unceremoniously on his jacket and throatily asked, “Do you recall if Lord Pennicott has any potential persons he might be deemed as an enemy towards?”

“Only his company competitors, Detective,” She said saccharinely with her smile, “He was a very loveable man.”

“Do you have a list of the names of staff who were working that evening here in Groveland House?”

The butler stepped forward and cleared his throat, “That would be in Lord Pennicotts office,” he pulled out a pair of keys, “I can you show you gentlemen in and where he keeps his accounts and other paraphernalia to his business if you’d like?”

Both Sherlock and Lestrade smiled and stood up.

“Baroness,” Sherlock gently requested, “Would it be overly bothersome if my beloved wife remained and kept you company while the inspector and I look in your husband’s office.”

Your heart jumped to your throat. What was Sherlock doing leaving you behind with the Baroness by yourself!?....what if you spoke out of turn or said something too presumptuous for your status!?...

“Most certainly not,” she beamed “I will gladly accept such delightful company,” She held out a hand, palm down to her right. The butler speedily stepped to her side and leant her his hand. She winced as she scooted forward on the cushioned lounge before struggling to rise to her feet.

Sherlock leant down and kissed the back of your wrist again, so scantily in front of the baroness. You tried tor refrain from loudly gasped and bringing anymore dangerous attention to yourself. Your husband left your side and followed the butler with Lestrade out of the sitting room.

So the party turned to two married women. The baroness was pleased.

She stepped closer to you and reached for your arm. You were surprised by her familiarity but you would not deny the assistance of a woman so desperately swollen and ready to birth any day.

“My dear, would you care to have a stroll with me in my garden?” She smirked and jerked her chin, “Knowing how dear Thaddie kept his space organised I suspect the gentlemen might be a while.”

You nodded and quickly made the warning assurance, “Are you in a condition to move great feets Lady Pennicott?”

“Fret not,” She giggled girlishly and waved her hand casually, “The physician told me fresh air is delightful for the health of the babe,” she tapped the top of her belly, “I have a month or so before they come.”

Your eyes widened, she looked huge enough to give birth now, surely she wasn’t a month away!! Maybe she was going to be blessed with a pair of twins. You had such a limited knowledge of pregnancy in women. Your grandmother hadn’t given birthed a child in the last forty years before your birth!!!

She pointed the way out of the main mansion to enter the garden paths. The sun was perfect today amongst the clouds. It was neither cold nor hot nor humid and dank...it was pleasant and you could smell the fresh nature of bushels and flowers.

“How long have you been known as, The Mrs Holmes?” She inquired cheerfully with her shining silver eyes.

“...Not very long,” you replied warmly before risking a white lie, “We recently finished our honeymoon.”

She grinned and waddled passed a wooden bench, she took a quick stop to rest and pat the seat for you to join her instead of standing dumbly.

“Shall I share some words of advise?,” She hummed, “From a woman that has been married for twelve years?”

“I would be ever so grateful,” you said rushed and desperate. You wouldve listened to anything she had to say. A woman of her standing must’ve held adequate wisdom.

She warmly cupped both your hands and squeezed them. And yet there was an ice creepy into her gaze. She appeared to dissociate, her voice losing its youthful lilt. Her lip wobbled slightly.

“Men are visual creatures. While you are so young and beautiful, you must become pregnant as soon as possible,” Lady Pennicott ran her palm across your waist, her eyes like razors cut across the yard to a bush of red rose buds, “It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature,” those grey stones in her face rolled back and weighed you down, “as I said- visual creatures. The sooner you make a babe, the easier his devotion comes,” A joyous grin returned to her thin lips, she playfully tapped the tip of your nose and stated, “Trust me upon this.”

You clenched your hand behind you and strained a smile, “I thankyou for such wise words Baroness. I will endeavour to do what I must to conceive.”

At this moment in time Sherlock had proved himself a monstrous villain. Would it be possible for you to fall pregnant?

You looked out at the divine lush greenery and exhaled softly.

“Do you garden Mrs Holmes?” the baroness queried.

You chuckled softly and removed your gloves, you flashed her a sight of your palm, “I am afraid my hands have never been introduced. My grandmother preferred I focus on mastering piano and embroidery.”

The grey orbs fluttered back at you with a surprised him, “Embroidery is a lovely skill,” she pat your hand and pointed across the field, “Please help me up Mrs Holmes, let us take a look at my lilacs.”

You stood straight up and leant out your arm, she was surprisingly light for a woman her size. She leant against you and took small timid steps to her flower patches.

She stood and admired the flower patches, pointing to different types and explaining the breeds of flowers she hoped to grow in the future.

You finally bent over enough and cupped the petals of purple to hold up to your nose and took in a wiff “They smell lovely,” from the corner of your eye was a line of crimson, “I see your roses will soon be in bloom.”

She pinched a bud that was peaking to bloom soon.

“Oh yes, the soil is rich and healthy,” she giggled, “I can’t wait for Thaddeus to return, he liked the roses. He would stand here for a while and think. I know he will love the red colour. It is his favourite shade you see...” She sighed dreamily with her eyes scanning the bushes of scarlet rose buds, “I miss him terribly. I hope he’s alright. I want him to come home soon before the baby arrives.”

A fly smacked into your eye and you sputtered, battering it away. When you gracelessly composed yourself, you stood back up to your feet beside the Lady of Groveland.

You could see how her eyes puddles with droplets of mournful tears. You felt bad for any woman that did not know where her husband was. Especially if there was a rumour about him fleeing the marriage and abandoning her in her serious pregnant condition.

Taking the chance, you boldly took both your hands into yours and now squeezed them. Another buzzing from a fly sat on your shoulder.

The day was growing warmer and a bead of sweat rolled down your neck. The fly tickled your neck and suckled along your salted skin.

You tried your best to ignore the annoying creature.

“I am sure he will Lady Pennicott,” you soothed with a soft welcoming grin, “And he will be most happy when he returns.”

She sighed solemnly and glanced back at the rose bushes. You felt obligated for her happiness in that moment. Glancing back to the house you felt a opportunity come to you.

“May I visit your nursery Lady Pennicott, so I may have references for my own in the future?”

Her eyes flickered up, her face shine bright and her hand tightened over your wrists excitedly as though she was still as youthful as a school girl.

“Why of course Mrs Holmes,” she spun on her heel and wobbled a slight, she lifted her hand and called to the maid Martha still packing the china set inside, “Please inform the detective that I am taking his wife up to the nursery.”

“Yes Baroness,” she said with a humble curtsey and scurried off while Lady Pennicott took you totally inside the house and up a grand stair case from the foyer.

9:03am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Up, up, up you both climbed the stairs. You noticed how the stairs didn’t bother her ladyship once, she was fit and stridden widely whereas you were breathing a little hard by the top step.

She pulled you down a hallway to a white painted door.

She excitedly opened the door wide and practically skipped inside to show you around her future child’s room.

The walls were covered in light blue and yellow paint. There were small peonies covering the trim of the room. There was no carpet but who needed one when you had a newborn.

“Welcome to the resting nest of my baby,” Lady Pennicott proudly exclaimed, spreading her arms out at the room around you.

There was a tall shelf filled with stuffed animals and teddy bears. There was a rocking horse, a doll house, spinning tops, tin cars and rubber balls all waiting, collecting dust, awaiting the arrival of a playmate. There was a permabulator by the window sill. There was a rocking chair in one corner and against the wall closest to the door- you smiled and swaggered over curiously, “Is this the cradle you bought?”

It was made of fine cream painted wood. You chewed your bottom lip in the thought. It was a lovely crib, why was Lord Pennicott so upset by such a delightful purchase? He didn’t have money issues. You put it down as that you didn’t understand the way men thought and men will never know what women think.

“Yes,” Lady Pennicott chirped, “it is from William Whitely department store in Baywater next to the Howard & Co dress department.”

The Baroness sat down into her rocking chair and slowly moved it back and forth, watching you admire the nursery she spent hours and years consistently curating.

You clenched the edge and looked over the railing down at the empty bedding. There was a teddy lamb in the corner, you pinched it’s fluffy white tail and sighed. For a brief moment you let your eyes close and your imagination wander far.

One day you’d have this...with Sherlock. An empty cradle to be filled. You caught the vision of a tiny hand squeeze around your finger and the sound of soft gurgles with the warm pressure of a hand on your waist...was that Sherlock’s hand? Was that your child?

One day you’d have a baby to care for, to provide these things that meant love...yet, was any child of Sherlock’s capable of love? He certainly wasn’t as far as you were concerned.

You bit down a shudder and opened your eyes, feeling hot tears glide down a cheek. You pushed back and sighed, “I am most confident on one thing Lady Pennicott.”

“And what is that Mrs Holmes?” she said softly, she could see the unspoken pain in your face. You swallowed hard and your face fell into a smile, you flashed her a wink.

You laughed softly, “Your child will be spoilt rotten by the love you give.”

She chuckled with you and nodded.

“Have you thought of a name?” you inquired, waltzing over to the chested drawers of baby knick knacks on display.

“Thaddeus Colin if it’s a boy,” she hummed, “or Theresa Grace if it is a girl.”

“Theresa?”

She giggled gently, “That is my name dear.”

Mrs Theresa Pennicott. It suited her. Her old soul eyes reflected her devout name.

A shine of glass pierced a ray of sun into your eyes, you pinched the glass object carefully. You touched a long black tube pulling out of it. You couldnt understand it’s purpose, your eyes narrowed at the rubber end that was shaped like a thumb or a cows udder. There was a second tube attached to the first with a rubber squeeze ball at the end.

“What is this?” you humoured.

“Oh that? It’s a fantastic invention,” The baroness said, “It’s a pump for breast milk with a tube that syphons the milk into this baby feeding bottle. When babies start to teeth they can scar your breasts. This is an effective and modern method I look forward to trying.”

Your eyes widened, scarring!? Babies teeth could scar a breast!?

You placed the bottle bump back and helped Lady Pennicott when she beckoned to stand back up from the rocking chair.

“Have you ever felt the sensations?” She suddenly, “In which they kick within?”

Your face must’ve looked idiotic as you asked plainly, “Kick?”

She giggled and nodded, “Give me your hand, perhaps you may feel them moving.”

She plucked your palm and pulled your glove off your fingers. She pressed your entire hand intimately to her belly. You felt a sense of taboo shame, she was making you touch such a beloved spot.

“Do you feel it?” she then asked.

Felt what? Confusion flooded your mind. Your hand moved around her belly slowly.

“I am afraid I don’t know what I’m meant to be feeling?”

She moved your hand and again you felt absolutely nothing.

“They are very brutal on my body,” Lady Pennicott sarcastically assured, “trust me there is a kick.”

She made a point to push your hand harder, but all you felt was the hard material of her corsetry beneath her main dressing materials.

“Baby’s kick you inside?” you marvelled with stunned horror. This was the first time you’d ever heard of such a notion of a baby beating it’s mother inside.

“Not out of malicious intent Mrs Holmes,” she reassured, “mostly it is the baby using its limbs to move their cramped bodies inside or excitement at the sound of voices, I truly believe they can hear us while still inside. Fear not, to you it will feel like a faint touch like this-”

Lady Pennicott softly tapped your wrist, “Like that.”

And there again was new knowledge you heard from a woman on matters of pregnancy. You moved your fingers around, seeking the supposed feeling of a kick...

Still nothing. You frowned, was there something wrong with you that the baby was choosing not to reveal itself.

“How interesting...”

A soft knock on wood alerted you both to glance at the door.

“Mrs Holmes,” the butler from earlier politely spoke, “the detective is requesting your return, I believe he intends to depart.”

Your face fell. You couldn’t believe it but you’d found this experience immensely enjoyable. You had surprisingly made a friend of the Baroness.

The fair lady hugged your side and sweetly exhaled, “Then I shall escort you back to your husband, Eddie fetch me my cheque book.”

He nodded and walked ahead of you both. You solemnly shut the nursery door, trying to remember every precious detail as possible. It was a innocent place to escape from the crude world.

You returned to the bottom of the foyer and smiled at your husband that stood by Lestrade at the front doors.

By the bottom step you faced the noble woman and curtsied.

“Thankyou Lady Pennicott for your kind hospitality and agreeable cooperation to the case,” you heard Sherlock’s voice float over your shoulder.

“Of course detective, please,” the Butler returned with her cheque book, “find my beloved Thaddeus.”

She scribbled speedily with a modernised ink pen, a sharp tear of paper flashed to his direction, “Here. Thirty pounds. I am sure you are busy with other clients considering your reputation, but I beseech you to seek out my husband quickly.”

Sherlock bowed his head as he deposited the cheque into his pocket, “We shall try our hardest. Good afternoon Lady Pennicott.”

Your mouth might’ve collected flies. Thirty pounds. THIRTY pounds. That was a hefty wage for a year to many men.

Sherlock was granted his coat and walking cane along with Lestrade.

He opened the front door and left slowly, glancing over your shoulder back at the heavily pregnant Baroness.

9:21am Wednesday 7th May 1890, Grovelands House, The Bourne, London, England. 

Sherlock and you walked up the gravel path in silence for sometime. You weren’t in much of a mood to speak to him despite well knowing conversation would need to spark eventually.

The three of you slowed down beside the inspectors horse cart.

Thankfully it was Sherlock who destroyed the silence with a stretched sigh. Lestrade grimly smiled at that sigh and rocked on his heels.

“Lestrade, show a useful skill,” Sherlock slapped a coin purse into his chest, “Find my wife and I a decent ride homeward. You still need to return back to the office and finish writing those reports on the Spring heeled Jack sightings....” he snickered.

The mutton chop male grumbled and left you pair alone to walk down the path into the main parklands to hail a cabriolet or another hackney carriage.

Sherlock pulled out his pipe and lit it quickly, he inhaled fast and asked curiously, “Did you learn anything else from our suspect?”

You squinted and felt a gasp pop from your lips, your hand snapped out and dug your nails into his arm with a scolding hiss, “Suspect? Look at the state she is in Sherlock. She clearly loves her husband. How could such a indisposed woman do anything to her husband?”

He smirked, “Perhaps a jealous one?”

Your brows pulled together. Jealousy wasn’t something you would’ve describe Lady Pennicott as especially with such a privileged life. Such an emotion wouldve been beneath her...but.. ‘It is inevitable that our husbands will stray their gazes to other women, it is in their nature.’

Sherlock pinched out a piece of card from his pocket, a business calling card, he flashed it through his fingers and let you carefully pluck it from his hand.

“it is no wonder Thaddeus Pennicotts name was so familiar,” Sherlocks huffed a puff of air, “He visits a like minded establishment.”

On the front of the card was a single image, a dove holding a olive leaf, and when you turned the card around there was a woman modelled in immodest clothing with text and an address in perfect hand writing.

“The Mayfair Row Dove club.”

You almost dropped the card in the mud at your feet.

He tucked the card back into his breast pocket and hooked his arm around yours, walking you closer to Lestrade waving his hands back at you both.

“I’m curious who his go to bird is there,” He chuckled.

You shook your head and scoffed in disbelief, “but she’s pregnant.”

“Men have needs,” Sherlock sighed, “I thought you’d have learnt that from last evening?”

Your nails dug harder into his arm and grit your teeth. Not everyone was as depraved as Sherlock, surely not. You couldn’t imagine Mycroft or your grandfather practicing such atrocities on women, especially women that weren’t their wives.

You noted snootily, “She said her husband liked to stand out by the roses to think. Perhaps he regretted his choice.”

Sherlock laughed cruelly and hard enough to almost drop his pipe from his lips. He plucked it out of his mouth and kissed you hard and squarely in front of Lestrade and any passing people that shook their heads in disgust at such public affection.

The taste of his tobacco filled your cheeks and floated down your throat into your chest. You could feel how his breath became your breath. Your head grew dizzy from it. His release left you trembling and collapsing against him briefly. His arm grabbed around your waist and held you totally against his chest.

“You see too much good in the worst people,” he whispered wetly into your ear.

“Not true,” you panted, you blinked your eyes hard and tried speaking again. You weakly pushed away from him back onto your own two feet. From the corner of your eyes you could see the inspector standing beside another hackney carriage.

“Not true,” you repeated and swallowed hard, “...I don’t see any good in you Sherlock.”

He grinned devilishly and walked you both to the carriage, He ignored Lestrade entirely except for retrieving his own purse.

“None at all?” Sherlock asked as he helped you step up inside of the carriage. It jostled as he plotted himself next to you instead of opposite.

You thought hard on his question for a time. You shouldn’t have ever been as petty as him. So you kept your silence before you could decide on a eloquent response. You did try to find the good in him. The trouble was you barely knew Sherlock and the side that you’d encounter was nothing short of a blagged, insufferable man that happened to be very experienced in the arts of the bedroom. So you tried to think about qualities you hadn’t seen in him but had at least heard of him.

“You help solve cases and even sometimes restitution, these deeds could be counted as decent and beneficial...perhaps good...”

He smirked until you finished hastily, “However your mistreatment and lustful addiction is nothing short of that than a person that suffers in his sin.”

A long annoyed sigh drew from his lips, however the corners jerked up.

He tug out his pipe and tapped it’s contents out the moving window, “Might I ask Mrs Holmes...” he inquired as he tucked in his pipe, and wiped his lips thoughtfully, “Do you think yourself better than me?”

The silence shared between the horses trotting along the cobblestones allowed you a chance to glare long and hard at Sherlock.

It was a jab, a jibe, a joke, a trick, a trap...

He wanted you to say yes... You could see it in his eyes the way they flicked to your lips and almost drooled with anticipation. He wanted to start a fight.

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at you, you turned your head away and scoffed, “You may have quick wit and a expansive knowledge Sherlock, but I at least carry myself with the fairest morals.”

And that? The reply was granted a omen of Sherlock’s sickly chuckles and his heavy warm hand to sit over your thigh, running his them over the fabric of your skirts.

“We will see how fair a baker street whore morals really are when we arrive home then shall we?”

You leant against the wall of the carriage and chose to ignore him. You closed your eyes and held Sherlock’s hand to prevent it wandering anywhere else. His thumb rubbed along the back of your gloves hands.

You couldn’t understand Sherlock. And feared you never would.

HELPLINES:

If you are a victim of sexual abuse, assault or domestic violence or know someone who is please reach out to these links that share helpline services, phone numbers or emails. Consent and respect is important in every relationship whether between friends, family or even strangers.

Australian Helpline Services

UK Helpline Services

American Helpline Services

India Helpline Services.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

a list of some spring movies/series 🌷

spring is here!! and so is your friendly neighbourhood little organisation freak of a goblin to give you a list of some spring movies and series. as always, just close your eyes and point somewhere on this little list, or even put the numbers in a generator and go with whatever the result is ♡

summer | autumn | winter

🐝 ‧₊˚ ⋅ movies ⋅˚₊‧

mary poppins (1964)

the sound of music (1965)

aristocats (1970)

alla vi barn i bullerbyn (1986)

my neighbour totoro (1988)

kiki (1989)

a league of their own (1992)

the secret garden (1993)

pride and prejudice (1995/2005)

whisper of the heart (1995)

clueless (1995)

my best friend’s wedding (1997)

parent trap (1998)

10 things i hate about you (1999)

notting hill (1999)

she's all that (1999)

but i’m a cheerleader (1999)

bring it on (2000)

miss congeniality (2000)

spiritied away (2001)

the wedding planner (2001)

legally blonde (2001)

princess diaries (2001 + 2004)

spy kids (2001-2003)

maid in manhatten (2002)

bend it like beckham (2002)

tuck everlasting (2002)

school of rock (2003)

how to lose a guy in 10 days (2003)

something’s gotta give (2003)

13 going on 30 (2004)

finding neverland (2004)

howl’s moving castle (2004)

saving face (2004)

the notebook (2004)

imagine me and you (2005)

nanny mcphee (2005)

penelope (2006)

miss potter (2006)

step up (2006)

she’s the man (2006)

bridge to terabithia (2007)

enchanted (2007)

atonement (2007)

stardust (2007)

ps i love you (2007)

wild child (2008)

made of honour (2008)

ondine (2009)

bride wars (2009)

valentine’s day (2010)

tangled (2010)

leap year (2010)

easy a (2010)

from up on poppy hill (2011)

jane eyre (2011)

crazy, stupid, love (2011)

what to expect when you’re expecting (2012)

remember sunday (2013)

saving mr banks (2013)

about time (2013)

now you see me (2013 + 2016)

love, rosie (2014)

testament of youth (2014)

kingsman (2014-)

paddington (2014 + 2017)

far from the madding crowd (2015)

burnt (2015)

brooklyn (2015)

cinderella (2015)

the man from u.n.c.l.e. (2015)

lady chatterley's lover (2015/2022)

creed franchise (2015-2023)

me before you (2016)

mother’s day (2016)

this beautiful fantastic (2016)

the light between oceans (2016)

paterson (2016)

how to be single (2016)

hidden figures (2016)

gifted (2017)

dunkirk (2017)

ocean’s eight (2018)

life itself (2018)

peter rabbit (2018)

christopher robin (2018)

tomb raider (2018)

set it up (2018)

crazy rich asians (2018)

spider-verse movies (2018-)

1917 (2019)

the art of racing in the rain (2019)

can you keep a secret? (2019)

booksmart (2019)

someone great (2019)

endings, beginnings (2019)

emma (2020)

enola holms (2020-)

the last letter from your lover (2021)

the world to come (2021)

🌼 ‧₊˚ ⋅ series ⋅˚₊‧

little house on the prairie (1974-1983)

moomin valley (1990-1992)

greys anatomy (2005-)

gossip girl (2007-2012)

skins (2007-2013)

the great british bake off (2010-)

new girl (2011-2018)

brooklyn nine-nine (2013-2021)

the fosters (2013-2018)

the 100 (2014-2020)

jane the virgin (2014-2019)

outlander (2014-)

grace and frankie (2015-2022)

poldark (2015-2019)

critical role (2015-)

howards end (2017)

girlboss (2017)

she's gotta have it (2017-2019)

the bold type (2017-2021)

mr. sunshine (2018)

queer eye (2018-)

crash landing into you (2019)

the witcher (2019-)

dickinson (2019-2021)

sex education (2019-2023)

bridgerton (2020-)

ted lasso (2020-2023)

nevertheless (2021)

the falcon and the winter soilder (2021)

flatshare (2022)

[heliads]

Okay so here come the Enola Holmes requests; hear me out, Tewksbury best friends to lovers where the reader makes things out of paper and tries to teach Tewksbury how to make paper flowers when he asks. He SUCKS at it, but he's head over heels for her and so he spends hours alone practicing and he makes her this cute bouquet out of newspaper and maybe it has like a little love confession note or something in it idk idk but my brain is in overdrive rn

YES this idea is literally the cutest thing ever to me, hope i did it justice!

masterlist

Tewkesbury doesn’t know that he’s lost until he sees her. It’s been too long since he’s been able to get away like this, trade off the drama of the House of Lords and every rule he’s expected to follow for the actual thrills of life. It may be his destiny to grow so deeply entrenched in politics that he stops seeing the difference between his working life and the rest of his waking one, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.

Needless to say, the second he was able to skive off another day spent around the members of Parliament, Tewkesbury did so with a flourish. He could think of nothing better than tracking down his best friend and spending the rest of the weekend annoying her without pause, but now that he’s actually here, he finds himself coming up short. It was supposed to be nothing out of the ordinary, these couple of days away, but yet when Tewkesbury stares at the girl who’s been like a sister all of these years, he suddenly wishes that connection would disappear in his head forever.

The problem is that the girl who looks up at him with a smile when she sees him looks different somehow, as if spending a mere month or two out of her company has been enough to completely rewrite Tewkesbury’s entire mental picture of her. Do her eyes always shine like that when she sees him, or is that new? Has he always wanted to smile like mad whenever they’re together, or is that the lingering affection of some new affliction Tewkesbury doesn’t think he could name if he tried?

It shakes him to the core, this sudden feeling. One moment, he’s rounding the corner to meet up with a friend, just that, and then he’s looking at this girl and all he can think about is that he never wants to leave her side again. Politics can go to hell without him. Tewkesbury only has an excuse to leave the government buildings for this weekend, but he wishes it could be forever.

He doesn’t have all of eternity to ponder this, though. Y/N L/N races up to him when their eyes meet, and then he’s standing before her, breathless and wondering how on earth he is supposed to go about as if nothing has changed when he’s pretty sure that every possible thing has.

Y/N, however, seems utterly devoid of the miraculous transformation currently wreaking havoc in between Tewkesbury’s ribs. “It’s wonderful to see you,” she beams, “I was beginning to think that you’d gone ahead and moved into the Palace of Westminster forever. I haven’t seen you in years.”

Tewkesbury finds it within himself to scoff at this blatant lie. “That’s absurd. I saw you not seven weeks ago.”

Y/N arches a disbelieving brow. “Yes, seven weeks ago. That’s a perfectly ordinary time to go without visiting your best friend even once, you traitor.”

Tewkesbury clasps a hand to his heart, feigning hurt. “Cruel. I have never once been a traitor to you.”

He doesn’t know that he could, now. He can’t imagine a world in which he is not following her around, either in endless loops around the London streets or in constant cycles of daydreams in which Tewkesbury is able to put an actual name to the emotions currently driving him mad.

Y/N grins. “I’m glad to hear it. I was worried for a second there, you know.”

“No you weren’t,” Tewkesbury laughs.

“Perhaps not,” Y/N says with an elaborate shrug, “but I like to keep you on your toes. It makes for a more dramatic weekend if we’re both slinging accusations left and right.”

“Not as fun, though,” he argues.

Y/N concedes this point through a solemn nod. “No, not as fun. I’ve never had to worry about fun with you, though.”

She looks up at him with a smile, and Tewkesbury thinks that his heart might explode out of his chest. He wants to say something, needs to say something, but all he can manage is–

“You know what would be fun? If you showed me how to make those paper crafts. I know you can do it, I’ve seen you make tons of stuff from paper before. It’s really cool, and I missed seeing you do it. I missed–”

He cuts off the hopeless flood of words before he can say something incriminating like that he missed her, but Tewkesbury gets the feeling that he’s already said too much. Also too little at the same time; Y/N promises him that they’ll get to make the paper shapes as requested, but he swears her face drops a little, like she could sense that there was something Tewkesbury was trying to say but just couldn’t manage. He wants to try again, but the words choke up his throat and he can’t get out a single syllable.

Instead, he contents himself with watching Y/N as they walk, how the sun dapples her skin with endless patterns of gold. He watches as they leave the streets as well, once they head for Y/N’s house down the block. Tewkesbury pushes the door open; it’s always been more of his home than any other corner or annex of his family place. This is where he feels at peace, and although he’s always thought that was just what came with finding a friend like Y/N, he’s starting to think that it could be more. That maybe they could be more.

It is a false hope, however, and one that will only serve to make him bleed, to rob the happiness from his chest whenever Tewkesbury looks over and sees Y/N. They are friends, compatriots, brethren in a war that all young children grown old must face at some point. Never have they been closer, and never has he wished that they could be closer still.

He’s caught staring as they head up the stairs, and he looks away hastily although the damage is done. Y/N laughs at the blush forming on his cheeks. Although Tewkesbury reacts by habit and shoves her with an outstretched, playful arm, he can’t seem to stop his hand from lingering there on her shoulder, fingers reaching as if to pluck some sort of love out of her through willpower alone.

He finds it not, though, and is forced to stay satisfied with smiling to himself and wondering if the rest of his life will be like this, just watching and hoping for a happy ending that may never come his way. Tewkesbury has always wanted something he could never have:  a world outside of family rules, a universe that did not want him controlled, and now, worst of all, a love that should have stayed platonic. It is the cut that aches the most.

The moment is good, though. Y/N has always had this most peculiar skill when it comes to paper crafts, and Tewkesbury regards her now through lowered eyes. Her hands flit around the cut shapes, slicing off delicate corners and creasing folds until a simple note becomes a prancing pony, a soaring bird about to take flight around the room.

Tewkesbury shakes his head after she produces yet another paper marvel. “I don’t know how you do it,” he protests, “Show me, can’t you? Let’s make a flower or something.”

“Flowers have always been your favorite, haven’t they?” Y/N comments. She does as requested, although what are lovely narcissi and tulips in her hands turn into sadly wilted clumps of paper in his.

Tewkesbury just can’t figure out how she does it. Even after that particular day ends, he finds himself sitting in his room surrounded by heaps of useless folds, trying and failing to emulate her easy way with the paper crafts. One would think that Tewkesbury, with his lifetime of knowledge about every facet of flora there is to know, would be able to reproduce his beloved plants in paper form, but here you would be surprised.

Tewkesbury labors for hours, days even, but his progress is slow and totally frustrating. Y/N catches him at it a few times and laughs at him. The sound, so sharp it stings, carves a smile on Tewkesbury’s face even when he’s almost been driven to the point of madness by the infuriatingly unrealistic paper flowers.

He insists that Y/N show him a few more times, of course, but Tewkesbury can’t seem to pick up a single thing. Maybe that’s because he’s not really hearing but looking at his professor. The sunlight clings to her like a child, playing at her hair in ways that only golden beams can get away with in proper society. Despite Y/N’s protests that he really is getting better, Tewkesbury only thinks he’s getting better at one thing and one thing alone:  falling harder for her.

Soon enough, he finds that he cannot go a day, cannot even draw a breath, without thinking about how much he loves Y/N. His room is dizzy and chaotic, the paper flowers piling up in the corners and spilling out of waste paper baskets. Tewkesbury’s hands are nicked by all the paper cuts he’s given himself by accident, and he finds his fingers keep twitching by his sides to run through the familiar folds and patterns as he goes by his days.

At some point, Tewkesbury looks up and realizes that he’s done it, mastered the things. They’re nothing compared to Y/N’s magic with them, of course, but they do the trick for now. An idea comes to him, and Tewkesbury carefully makes one pristine paper flower after another, all the types he knows by heart and some he has to consult in his books, too, just to get the right varieties.

Y/N is surprised when he presents them to her at first, this newsprint bouquet. Her eyes are enchanted and rove up and down the folded petals, the cut stems.

“You did all of this?” She asks, voice tinged with excitement.

Tewkesbury laughs. “You don’t have to seem so surprised. I was bound to get it at some point, you know.”

Y/N flashes him a grin in between her admirations of the paper flowers. “I never doubted you for a second, I swear it.”

He believes her, he always has. How is it that Tewkesbury can see straight through politicians and their lies, but yet find himself stumbling over Y/N’s every word? Every ounce of critical thought leaves his head in a blessed whirlpool the second she smiles at him. It is a problem that Tewkesbury refuses to solve.

A voice calls from behind him; Tewkesbury wasn’t able to stay for long today, only long enough to press the paper bouquet into Y/N’s hands and make her swear to look at it before he’s dashing back to the House of Lords again for the day’s work.

He doesn’t have to stay to make sure she’ll investigate, nor to discover what she finds. Soon enough, Y/N will be glancing over the paper creases and realize that not all of the flowers are made of newsprint. Some are made of notes, notes to her, notes that are at last able to explain all that Tewkesbury couldn’t put into words if he tried.

It’s a story about how a boy fell in love with a girl, how Tewkesbury is so lost on Y/N that he can’t think straight. Unable to help himself, he’s cataloged the flowers he’s made for her; camellias for longing, jasmine for sweet love, goldenrod so he’ll have luck in this, begonias so that even if she doesn’t feel the same way, he can at least thank her for all of the memories they made in the past years.

It might be the bravest thing he’s ever done. In truth, when Tewkesbury steps out of the reaches of Parliament for the day, he doesn’t know what to expect. In all his endless plotting and scheming about how to do this, he was never able to accurately sum up how Y/N might respond.

In the end, she surprises him. Tewkesbury enters the streets of London and there she is, waiting for him with a smile on her face unlike anything he’s ever seen before. Tewkesbury has prided himself on being able to place each one of her smiles in his memory, rank them on how happy she truly is, and this one blows all of the others away.

He walks to her, and they meet in the middle somewhere, both bursting with hopes finally answered.

“I love you too,” she says, “more than anything. More than you love me, I think.”

“Doubtful,” Tewkesbury replies, “I don’t think it’s possible for anyone to love more than I love you.”

She laughs. “I look forward to proving you wrong on that point.”

He looks forward to it, too. There are few things in life that can be described as going perfectly, but this, this is it. This is perfection itself, him and her and the glorious world stretching out around them. Nothing could be better.

requested by @thatfangirl42, i hope you enjoy!

enola holmes tag list: empty for now!

[delicatenightfury]

Letters

2022 Month of Writing: Day 5

Pairing: Henry!Sherlock Holmes x reader

Prompt:

Word Count: 2,551

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work.

I just watched Enola Holmes 2 last night and felt inspired to write a Sherlock Holmes (Enola Holmes style) fic today.

“Thank you so much, Mr. Newman,” y/n said with a smile.

“Not a problem, dear!” the man said. “It’s always a pleasure to see you around. Feel free to stop by again soon!”

“I’ll do my best. Good day!”

She stepped out on the cobble street, still smiling. Mr. Newman was a pleasant man. He was old enough to be her father, and greeted every customer that walked into his shop with a smile. He sold a variety of items, but she primarily stopped in for art supplies. She would send him a telegram, detailing the items she wanted, and within a week, Mr. Newman would make sure to have them for her.

Painting was a hobby of hers, one she didn’t get to do often but greatly enjoyed. She had learned at a young age from her mother and had continued to enhance her skills as she grew older. However, painting now remained a thing to do in her spare time. 

She quickly ran the rest of her errands, making her last stop in the local market. She greeted the usual stall owners as she bought her groceries for the week. She knew that some people found it odd that she did her own shopping, but she enjoyed the hustle and bustle of the market. The people were pleasant for the most part and it gave her a chance to get out of the house.

Once she had all that she needed, she began making her way back home. She hummed lightly to herself and smiled at people as she passed by them. She always felt that it was right to smile at people, because you never knew if they needed a little bit of happiness. Not everyone responded to her smiles, but she was never offended by it. 

Just as she turned a corner, she heard someone shout her name.

“Miss l/n!”

y/n turned her head quickly to determine the source and smiled. Lilliana, a local florist, waved at her. y/n walked over to her, carefully crossing the street.

“Lilliana, it’s so good to see you!” y/n said. “How are you? Is your sister doing all right? Better I hope?”

“Much, thank you. Seemed to have just been a little cold. She’s back to causing chaos, that one.” Lilliana took in y/n’s bags. “Looks like you’ve got your hands full.”

“I’m afraid so. Otherwise I would be more than happy to buy some flowers off of you today. They look absolutely lovely.”

Lilliana smiled at the compliment.

“Well at least take a look around,” she invited. “If you’re not in a rush, that is.”

“All right, I’ll take a look.”

The girl cheered and left y/n to attend to another guest. y/n slowly walked through the selection of flowers, admiring the colors and scents. She carefully knelt down next to a basket full of (favorite flower). They were beautiful. She felt a little silly buying flowers for herself, but she couldn’t resist.

She waved down Lilliana and requested a small bundle of flowers. She smiled as she watched Lilliana build a small bouquet for her. Lilliana always treated her too well, giving her more than she paid for. As Lilliana carefully picked flowers to put together, she glanced at y/n.

“You know, y/n,” she said, “you seem to have an admirer.”

y/n looked at her, puzzled.

“I’m sorry?”

“An admirer. Since you started browsing, there’s a gent across the street that’s had an eye on you.”

Now that she mentioned it, y/n could feel the gaze. She was used to the occasional glance, but this felt different. It was… more persistent, curious even. y/n glanced around, making sure not to make it obvious. She didn’t notice anyone terribly out of place, but the street was filled with people. However, she knew not to question Lilliana. The girl saw these people almost every day. She would know when someone breaks routine.

y/n simply smiled, playing it off. She carefully adjusted her bags so she could get out a bit of money to pay Lilliana. They exchanged the money for the bouquet and y/n smiled.

“It’s beautiful, Lilliana,” she said. “Excellent job as always.”

“You flatter me. Have a lovely day, y/n.”

“You too! I’ll see you soon.”

y/n started back down the street, ready to get home. Her shoulders were starting to hurt from the weight of her bags. Luckily her flat was only about a block away. She briefly wondered about her mysterious admirer, but chose to forget about him.

She made good time and got to her home in no time. She unlocked the door and stepped inside. It was moments like this when she disliked living on the third floor. She waved briefly to the landlord’s wife, slowly made her way up, and was soon back in her comfortable home. She laid her things out on the dining table, sorting them briefly before beginning to put things away.

The food went in their respective homes, organized in a way that would be easy for her to access later. She cut the bottoms of the stems of her flowers and placed them in a vase, which she left by the window.

She then went to her bedroom and shed her overcoat. It had been cold, so the coat had been welcome on her outing. Her gloves and hat were put away, and her purse stored. She proceeded to make herself comfortable. She changed into slightly more comfortable clothing, a skirt and shirt that allowed her more movement. She pulled the pins out of her hair, letting it fall around her shoulders. Finally comfortable again, she went back to the main room and stored her new paints and canvases. 

Suddenly, she heard a knock on her door. She paused for a moment before slowly making her way to the door. She rarely got visitors, so questions started filling her mind.

y/n undid the lock and pulled the door open a little. A rather tall man stood in the hall. He looked a little awkward due to his height and broad shoulders. He turned to look at her and offered a small smile.

“Good afternoon,” he greeted.

“Hello,” y/n said. She remained partly behind the door. “Can I help you?”

“Ah, yes. I, um, well…” He fiddled slightly with his cane and hat, something she wouldn’t typically expect. “You are y/n l/n, correct?”

She raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes?”

“You used to live near Ferndell Hall.”

He sounded more sure of his statement this time, meanwhile she became slightly more wary.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes. I used to live at Ferndell with my mother and siblings.”

Of course!

“Oh my word!” y/n exclaimed, opening the door a little more. She could see it now. Those bright, intense eyes so full of wonder and never missed a thing. “I didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long!”

“Indeed it has. Might I come in?”

“Yes, forgive me.” She opened the door wider and watched him step into her home. Once he was in, she shut the door. “Can I get you anything? Tea?”

“Thank you.”

She went to the kitchen and started a kettle of water to heat. When she went back to check on Sherlock, she found him wandering around her flat, looking at her belongings. She didn’t say anything and simply let him observe.

It had been so long.

Sure enough, they had been neighbors. The two of them were close in age, so they frequently played together as children, running through the fields and climbing trees. They would occasionally study together too. Sherlock’s older brother Mycroft had often thought of her actions as “unfit for a lady”, but their mother Eudora encouraged the behavior for many years. They had been the closest of friends for many years. y/n smiled slightly; those were some of the best years of her life.

He had changed so much from the boy she knew. They were once the same height, now he towered over her. His dark hair was still curly and his eyes were still the same, if not more intense now. He definitely filled out. It was hard to tell with his suit jacket on, but he looked like he had gained a lot of muscle. His features became more defined. He looked handsome. She almost blushed.

“I see you still paint,” Sherlock observed. He was looking at her new and old paints, then her recent painting. “It’s lovely.”

“Thank you.”

He continued on, only briefly, and stopped at a collection of photographs. There weren’t many, but y/n loved them. One of her parents, one of her old home, one she had taken of London when she first arrived, then one of…

“Is this Alexander?”

y/n nodded sadly.

“Yes,” she said.

Alex had been her brother. He had died when she was early in her teen years. An accident. He had been on the road when his carriage was attacked. Those responsible had shot him and stolen most of his belongings. He hadn’t made it through the night. He had been only an hour from home when he was attacked.

“I am sorry,” Sherlock said, bringing her back once again. “He was a good man.”

She nodded, blinking to get rid of the tears that threatened to spill.

“Yes, he was.”

He had been her biggest supporter. He included her in all of his activities and lessons, never wanting her to feel excluded. He was the reason she knew the Holmes family. He would drag her out of the house and take her with him to visit Mycroft and Sherlock.

Just then, the kettle started to whistle. She went to the kitchen and started on the tea. She heard Sherlock’s footsteps continue to move around somewhere behind her.

“You receive letters from Enola?” he suddenly asked, loud enough for her to hear.

“Yes, I do,” she replied. She couldn’t help but smile at the thought of the youngest Holmes. “She is quite a character. I met her briefly when I returned from finishing school and spent many weeks with her and Eudora. We’ve kept in contact, so I’ve been up to date on her adventures.”

She joined him again and passed him his cup. He took it with a nod. y/n sat down in one of her chairs, reclining comfortably. She supposed she should be a little more polite with the way she sat, but she couldn’t really bring herself to care.

Sherlock cleared his throat.

“Do you remember when we used to write to one another?” he asked.

y/n smiled a little and nodded.

“Yes. We lived only a mile apart but we sent letters almost daily. I looked forward to those moments. Your stories were quite interesting.”

“As were yours. We could have written a novel.”

y/n laughed.

“What a story that would have been. The tales of two children and their imagination.”

Sherlock hummed.

“You know,” he continued slowly. He didn’t look at her and instead stared into his cup. He cleared his throat with a hum. “After Alex’s passing, and you went off to finishing school, I still tried to write to you.”

y/n froze, teacup lifted halfway to her lips. But Sherlock surprisingly didn’t seem to notice.

“I wrote to you, daily at first. I had hoped you were well for I knew you were still grieving when you left. I wanted to continue our stories, as a way to distract you or perhaps give you something other than your schooling to think about. When I didn’t receive a response at first, I thought it was just because you were busy. So I wrote weekly. Then monthly. Then…” He sighed. “I know I really have no right to ask you this, but why didn’t you answer any of my letters?”

He finally looked at her and his deduction skills kicked in almost against his will. 

Her grip was tight on her cup, yet her hands were shaking. Her eyes were wide. There were tears in them. She looked like a deer. Her expression was a little harder to read: shock, sadness, and puzzlement were the primary emotions. She gaped at him for another moment before swallowing.

“Sherlock,” she said, her voice thick. “You wrote me letters?”

Now it was his turn to be confused.

“What? Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?”

She shook her head slightly.

“I never received any letters, Sherlock.”

His eyes widened.

She blinked and the first tear fell. She quickly wiped it away.

“My going to finishing school was not by choice,” she said. “I was perfectly content to learn at home, like how your mother raised Enola. My parents were the ones who sent me away. Alex was the only thing keeping me home.” She paused to collect herself a little. “At finishing school, I would talk about you and our adventures, and I would get reprimanded by the headmistress. It’s apparently frowned upon to remain friends with a boy after a certain age.”

She looked at him and continued: “If you sent letters, Sherlock, I never saw them. I would presume the headmistress got rid of them..”

Sherlock set down his cup and moved to kneel in front of her. He gently grabbed her hand.

“I never wanted that. I wanted to keep in contact with you, to remain friends.” He paused for a moment. “Why didn’t you try to find me afterwards? You went back to Ferndell to see my mother and sister, and I was solving cases at the time. Surely…”

“I had thought you didn’t want to be friends any longer and never wanted to speak to me again. I became different after finishing school.”

He chuckled a little.

“I never wanted that. And I don’t think you’re much different now than you were then, y/n. As a detective, I can tell you are the same woman. Perhaps to an outsider you are one of society’s polite women, but here, deep down, you are the same spitfire girl I used to play with. Perhaps even more so now. If you’re friends with Enola, then I know that to be true.”

y/n laughed a little. She had to admit, he was right. Finishing school had taught her how to act in public, but had little effect on her interests and personality. She wiped away her tears and took a deep breath to calm herself. She looked back at him. He was still kneeling beside her, his large hand wrapped around hers.

“So what now?” she asked.

“Whatever you wish, I suppose. Personally, I want to get to know you again. I want to catch up on all we missed. And perhaps, make something new with it?”

y/n smiled and squeezed his hand.

“I would love that.”

She leaned forward a little and pressed her forehead to his, closing her eyes. He sighed and closed his own eyes, enjoying the new peace that settled around them.

“Just wait until Enola hears about this,” y/n then muttered. “She will lose her mind.”

“Let’s hold off on telling Mycroft then, yes?”

[urbanflorals]

Hiii im Emma the amount of fandoms I'm in is concerning. The amount of books i'm writing at once is also concerning. Point is you should just be concerned, enjoy your stay at my blog - here is a piece of cake 🍰

-> Im Emma/Ems or whatever nickname u want to give me I love giving people nicknames and petnames. Basic info -> She/her, minor, capricorn, intj, australian, ferrari girl, i will defend my babies warnette and evajacks until i die, a believer in sarcasm, i post about my writing sometimes, sometimes - cause im too lazy to write, im an ambivert and a joey lynch and damon torrance defender

Books -> [series] The inheritance games, acotar, shatter me, the folk of the air, pjo [im new to the fandom] the prison healer, caraval, ouabh, dance of theives, divine rivals, boys of tommen, the lunar chronicles, the red queen, the naturals, six of crows, devils night, boys of tommen [standalone] Better than the movies, the do over, betting on you (basically anything by lynn painter), the cheat sheet, powerless, the summer of broken rules and A LOT more. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 Music -> taylor swift, gracie abrams, [recently getting into] maisie peters, tate mcrea, sadie jean, a little of lana del rey, chase atlantic, artic monkeys, guns and roses, conan gray. my music is all over the place lmao. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 Movies/tv shows -> friends, b99, babysitters club, alexa and katie, fuller house, now you see me 1&2, oceans 11,12&13, knives out 1&2, mamma mia, adam project, red notice, enola holmes, and pretty much most chick flicks 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 Other -> rain <3, christmas, baking/cooking, art -> I paint, sketch, and draw, whenever I feel like it. I mostly draw though. 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 Moodboards -> I love making moodboards here is the masterlist 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝Writing -> i have a few side blogs but my public writing blog is @the-ballad-of-us and i also have a secret one see if you can find it ;)

Misc -> my dream life is to runaway to paris or new york and open up a bookstore/cafe/flower shop. (and to be the rich hot aunt the everyone loves), I want to travel when I'm older! [places] -> London, Paris, Italy, Greece, Turkey, Sweden, Germany, New York, Bahamas, Japan, Korea, and a bunch more!, I spend an unhealthy amount of time on Pinterest and Tumblr, 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 -> If we're moots, we're best friends, no takes backs. -> I over use lmao, lol, <3, :), and 😭 too much. im trying not to come on too strong and be rude lol (right there see? perfect example) -> My Wattpad -> My Pinterest -> I love talking to new people, and asks and dms (only for minors unless i agree to it :)) are always open <3 -> i most likely won't follow you back if you don't have an intro post, but if you want to get to know me just send me an ask :) 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Special people ->@skeelly - kris, @percabeths-blue-cookies - har, @a-beautiful-fool - lou lou, @moonlightt444 - mare bear, @nqds - nadsies, @mqstermindswift - nicky, @lost-in-reveriie - addy, @art-of-fools - mr o'hare, @reminiscentreader - jas, @myster3y - my wifey kiara, @sophiesonlinediary - soph, @deprivedofbraincellsandsleep - zia, @runwiththerain - ives, @doyoujustnotwantto - mihane, @that-multi-fandom-hijabi - nova my world manipulation partner, @hijabi-desi-bookworm - esme, @gergthecat - scout, @baboland - aria, @missedyour21st - fay, @daydream-of-a-wallflower - kat + all my other moots that i didn't tag but rlly wanted too [if you want to be added or removed just let me know!! <333

𓆝 this is a safe space for everyone!! ↳ Dni - if you're a racist, homophobe, sexist, pedos, ect..

love ya all <3

Emma

[skeelly]

"when im fat and old and my kids think im a joke"

"who cares if im pretty if i fail my finals??"

"who's your daddy?" (IYKYK ;))

"im tired and it's winter"

"i wish i could block me out"

"wanna die"

hi!! welcome. i suggest putting a seatbelt on and i will pay for your therapy, dont worry. :)

☘ "hi, it's me. im the problem it's me.": im kristen! you can call me kristen or kris. minor (im 14 if you really wanna know). she/her. intp-t. ambivert. 🇵🇭. reader (sort of). notes app writer (sometimes). i could not care less about my dumb typos so deal with it. i suck at math. biiiiiggg ophelia wilde fan. delulu swiftie no.9273737277. rodrigoxpartidge's biggest supporter. claire rosinkranz is the reason for my existence. gracie abrams ily. "how long can we be a sad song?". im married to grayson hawthorne. mirrorball//tolerate it girlie 4 life. stromboli fan until the day i die. nick girlie by heart. pjo stan at this point. harry potter simp. hermione granger is my mother. sherlock and enola holmes stan. "no body, no crime". haylor (sorry not sorry). one direction is my life. FREE PALESTINE. kenji, my spirit animal. jude is so ughhhhh perfect. javery shipper cause jameson for avery, grayson for me :3. massive k!nye west hater so if you like him, please leave. but i love rap. certified professional procrastinator. capricorn (not a believer in those things though). i love reading poetry. correct grammar = non existent. i can (technically) fluently speak 3 languages. i can speak (basic, not much) about 5 languages?. piano enthusiast. very big sport girly (football *soccer. america football can kiss my toes. that sport sucks*, f1, volleyball, badminton, basketball, tennis and hockey fan). walker scobell is perfect and i love him. c²>>>>. sharl leclerc. max the axe. oscar paistry. ankara messi. sewy. leah is my bestie. dior is the best artist no cap. pookie nation frfr. charlie's luke is best luke. andrew is underrated. olivea is jusssttt.

☘ rappers i like//listen to: eminem, lil skies, ysbtril (does he count?), nicki minaj, doja cat (:3), cardi b (rarely), dominic fike (does he count? yk, melodic rap). tbh idk who else lol.

☘ all around favorite artists: taylor swift, olivia rodrigo, claire rosinkranz, gracie abrams, the weeknd, doja cat, lil skies, ysbtril, selena gomez (?), harry styles, niall horan, louis tomlinson, zayn, liam payne, one direction, clairo, conan gray, lana del rey, one republic, why don't we, the neighborhood, billie elish, ariana grande, abba, michael jackson.

☘ navigation?:

rambles: #kristenstedtalk

anything i don't proof read: #i didn't proof read this lmao

grayson hawthorne: #loml

cringe posts that idk why i posted: #/j or #post to delete?

asks: #askaroo or #ty for answering <3

sturniolo triplets: #stombolis

☘ follower count (as of march 20): 313 (im actually not sure lol)

☘ DNI: racists, homophobes, sexists and anyone that's ok with any form of discrimination

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼ 　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

☘ safe space for: everyone lol

☘ my other accounts: @crysten my writing and other stuff @skeellymellows book rants (AAAH I CANT TAG)

☘ books/movies/series: harry potter, pjo, aggtm, tig, sherlock/enola holmes, little women, black beauty, tsitp, better than the movies. hp, pjo, enola holmes, tsitp, gilmore girls, gossip girl, mean girls, legally blonde, little women, hunger games (haven't read the books), marvel (barely lol), secretariat (my favorite :>>). tbh idk what else lol

☘ my people:

@stvrgirl111//@stvrlighhttt (mare) #maree

@urbanflorals (em) #walkers wife

@gergthecat (scouty) #evil batman sourdough guy #bread man #george

@mqstermindswift (quason) #nickyy

@nqds (NADS) #nads! or was it #NADS! ??

@reminiscentreader (JAS) #theworldneedsmorepeoplelikejas

@sophiesonlinediary (fifi) #fifi <3

@myster3y (kiaraah) #kiaraah

@regisdvmb(reggggg) ✶ @coco6420 (cocoo) ✶ @eddiethebanished (finn :)) ✶ @themidnightarcher ✶ @starchasers-stuff ✶ @what-about-wendy (wendy <3) ✶ @lucinda-008 ✶ @foaming-sea ✶ @lonelycatsblog ✶ @good-old-fashioned-lover ✶ @my-mind-is-frozen ✶ @dandelions-fly-in-summer-skies ✶ @baboland ✶ @blocked-zombieartist ✶ @sturn-wrld ✶ @swiftieannah ✶ @weeping-in-the-willows ✶ @s1xseasonsandamov1e ✶ @the-red-archer ✶ @svnflowermoon ✶ @helpimhopelesslyinlove ✶ @doyoujustnotwantto ✶ @atwtmvftvtvsgavralpsss ✶ @oh-whale13 ✶ @bonesofnixie ✶ @art-of-fools (stephanieee) ✶ @percabeths-blue-cookies ✶ @imthatweirdratinthecorner (a rat <3) ✶ @letmeseeallthefrogsinthecity ✶ @that-multi-fandom-hijabi (novaaa) ✶ @rachellelizabethhdare ✶ @sluttypoetsdepartment ✶ @kimu-dem ✶

[ellieslittleburrow]

Masterlist 🌹🌹🌹

Hi there, welcome. I'm reposting the masterlist on my other account, rusty's lodge and adding the fics i wrote on this one as well.

enjoyyyy 💕🌸

MASTERLIST P.2

4am Masterlist

Fandoms : Supernatural, Walker, The society, Hannibal, Peaky blinders, Sherlock Holmes, The Punisher, The Witcher, and many more!

Open to requests from other tv shows i might've watched, so request away 🖤🖤

Supernatural :   

One shots : 

Sam and dean :

Coming home late..doesn't keep Dean okay.(Angsty Dean x sister reader)

Graduation (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Broken heart (Dean x sister reader)

Cakepops (Dean x sister reader)

Tummy ache (Fluffy Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Arrested (Angsty Sam x sister reader)

Distant(Sam x sister reader)

The best dad (Sam x daughter reader)

Heartbroken (Sam/dean x sister reader)

I'll do it for you (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Sleep paralysis...Part1(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Witchcraft (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Fun evening...Part 2(Angsty Dean x sister reader)

Fun evening..Part 1(Fluffy Dean x sister reader)

Social anxiety (Dean/Sam x sister reader)

Eating disorder part 1 (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

ED part 2, Dean(Dean x sister reader)

ED part 2, Sam (Sam x sister reader)

Periods (Dean/Sam x sister reader)

Hungover Dean ( Fluffy Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Non-binary little winchester(Sam/Dean x sibling reader)

Dean realizes his sister’s lesbian( Dean x lesbian sister reader)

Forever love you, no matter what(Sam/Dean x lesbian sister)

I'm here now, kid (Dean winchester x daughter!reader)

Too young to go on hunts(Sam/Dean/Bobby x sister reader)

Sick (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Pretty girl (Sam/Dean x young sister reader)

psychic abilities (Sam/Dean x sister reader) 

Homeschooled Part 1 (Sam/sister reader)

Homeschooled Part 2 (Sam/sister reader)

Sir mister judge (Dean x sister reader)

Bites pt1 (angst Dean winchester x daughter reader)

Bites pt2 (fluffy Dean winchester x daughter reader)

The hairdresser (Sam x young daughter reader) 

Short hair (Sam/Dean x sister reader) 

Panicky..(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Hurtin' kid.(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Family breakup. (Angst Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Sentimental sister (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Other characters :

The little secret (Castiel x reader)

I promised i’d keep you safe and i broke that promise(Platonic jack x sister reader)

Savior castiel (platonic castielx sister reader)

Charlie's girlfriend (Romantic fluff charlie x sister reader)

Siblings (Dean/Sam Winchester x sister!reader)

Christmas time (Dean winchester x sister!reader)

  Texts 📱 :

Sam and Dean :

Are you sure you’re feeling better ? (Sam x sick sister reader)

Prank time. (Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Night terrors (Dean x sister reader)

I crashed baby...(Sam/Dean x sister reader)

Other characters :

Blackmail Part 1(Claire novak x winchester sister reader)

Blackmail Part 2 

Hannibal :

Poor behaviour Pt1 (hannibal x daughter reader)

Poor behaviour Pt2

It is but a little cold. (Fluff Hannibal x daughter reader)

Anger issues (Hannibal x daughter reader)

Protective family(AU Sherlock Holmes/Hannibal Lecter x daughter/sister!reader)

Peaky Blinders :

Final night in Soho (shelby brothers x sister)

Sherlock Holmes :

His ward. (Sherlock Holmes x sister reader)

His ward. PT2, choice 1

His ward. PT2, choice 2

The detectives (Sherlock/Enola holmes x sister!reader)

Big Sky :

Hurt but safe.(Beau Arlen x daughter!reader)

The Last Of Us :

A father like no other (Joel Miller x daughter!reader)

From stranger to father..(Joel miller x daughter!reader)

Fainter reader(Joel miller x daughter!reader/Ellie x sister!reader)

The witcher :

Geralt headcanons (Geralt x daughter!reader)

Top Gun Maverick :

Balls of fire (Rooster Bradshaw x sister!reader)

Elvis :

I own you. (Smut Elvis Presley x girlfriend!reader)

Classic case of jealousy (Elvis Presley x girlfriend!reader)

[shanastoryteller]

HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!!! Enola Holmes?

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6

Victoria quite likes her sister in law.

Her husband can't stand her, but her husband can't stand much of anything, so she hardly considers that a point against the girl. In fact, on his most irritating days, Victoria considers it to be quite a large point in her favor.

It's a bright and blissfully quiet morning when the butler says, "The Marchioness is here, madam."

She doesn't ask which one. There's only one that would bother coming here. It's also one that she doesn't change to receive - it's not like she'll appreciate the effort.

"Enola," she says warmly as she steps inside the sitting room, leaving off all her official titles like she never does in front of her husband.

It's a good thing Mycroft has a large fortune and a rigorous work schedule. He'd be intolerable otherwise.

"Victoria," she returns, returning her hug with that deceptive strength that hides behind her wiry frame. "Are you - can I - there are some questions. That I have."

"For a case?" she asks, guiding her onto the couch so they can sit together. She assumes that someone is already setting up for tea.

Mycroft may hate Enola's past times, but Victoria thinks they sound exciting. She loves family dinners, listing to her and Sherlock talk animatedly of their latest case.

She shakes her head. "It's - personal. I'd ask my mother, but she's a little busy at the moment."

The price on her head is so high in London that she rarely bothers to come here. Victoria wishes that Mycroft would take care of that, but he's so touchy about his mother.

"You can ask me anything," she says.

Enola hesitates. Victoria is starting to wonder if she should be concerned, when she's seen Enola ask some of the rudest questions she's ever heard out loud with a straight face.

"It's about babies."

Ah.

"Are you...?" she asks leadingly, glancing down at her stomach.

"No!" she yelps, then bits her bottom lip. "Not yet."

"What do you want to know?" she asks, doing her best to keep her humor tucked away. Enola hates not knowing something, it must be terrible for her to even ask. "You really can ask me anything. I don't mind."

Victoria is only older than Enola by a handful of years, but this is what her mother had raised her for, and what she'd been focused on during her first year of marriage.

Thank goodness she'd had a son. It means that Mycroft left her alone, for the most part.

[s0urw00lf]

omg?? yoo can i request a tewkesbury x reader where he has to meet up with some other ladies bc of obligation even tho he likes the reader alot?? ty!!

Of course! I didn’t know if you meant he met up with girls for like an arranged marriage or what but that’s what I did it as… I hope you like it!!

Only her - Viscount Tewkesbury x Reader

Y/n and Tewkesbury have been best friends since they had met by their dear friend Enola. They both just so happened to be in the same cabin as Enola well, he was in a bag on the shelves above y/n. The three quickly became close y/n and Tewksbury in a different light but both were too daft to see their obvious love for each other, Enola however saw right through the two.

After the three were able to solve who the killer of Tewksburys father and attempted murder of he himself, they all separated but y/n made sure to visit him and he the same but the two never revealed their true feelings for eachother. Months later y/n was reading the newspaper and happened to come across an article about the boy.

It read

“ Sir Viscount Tewksbury, Marquess of Basilwether is in search of a spouse, who will be the lucky lady that wins the handsome lords heart?”

This made y/ns heart stop for a second, she knew the boy didn’t feel for her what she felt for him. But did he really feel nothing at all? Tewkesbury on the other hand was troubled as well. He hadn’t told anyone about his feelings for the (y/h/c) haired girl, but he knew his title wouldn’t approve of a lady of y/ns nature. Not that he cared for his title, it was a big part of his life, and his mothers. He’d hate to tarnish the image his family had built overtime, so he agreed.

Over the months y/n had come back in contact with Enola. She of course knew of the situation as she made sure to keep an eye out for her two only and best friends. “I feel horrible, like fours he really feel nothing for me?” Y/n said sitting upside down on the couch beside enola. Enola wasn’t very good with emotional things so she focused on the facts “Tewkesbury is a nincompoop, he sees himself as a man of his word when he candle face put to his feelings.” She said. Y/n looked at the girl in wonder “what feelings? He’s out looking for a spouse, and it’s been months! Who knows he probably has one picked out” she cried. Enola just sighed at her friend.

Tewkesbury was standing in his bedroom looking out the window at the well trimmed hedges, and she freshly cut grass having an hard time getting his mind off of y/n… none of the lady’s he had met had quite caught his eye, not like y/n did. They didn’t have those witty remarks, or they wouldnt talk unless spoken too, they were all the same. None stuck out, it was at that moment standing in his room had he decided to confess his love to his mother, and the world.

At dinner he built up the courage to ask his mother to talk, she accepted of course. “ mum, I’d like to tell you something.” He said looking at his hands. “Sure, anything” she replied as she sat down her utensils and gave her full attention to her son. “I’ve made my decision, on the one I want to marry” he said now looking his mother in the eye. Her eyes lit up as she asked which lovely lady he had chosen to court. “ you remember y/n right? The one who helped save my life?” He asked. As if her smile couldn’t brighten anymore it did. “Of course I remember who saved my sons life. Is she the one?” She asked with a slight smirk at the end. Tewkesbury blushed at this and stuttered “y-yes, but only if she agrees” he stated. His mother beamed “I am very pleased with your choice, we’ll send out a word in the morning confirming your choice.”

The very next day a news article had been sent out all around London

“ Sir Viscount Tewksbury, Marquess of Basilwether has made his decision. He reveals his love for a lady unlike any he’d ever met, and he hopes to see her face to face again soon, I wonder who the anonymous lady is, hopefully she is soon revealed.”

When y/n read this her heart shelters to the tiniest pieces, he had found a girl, and it wasn’t her. Her fear had came true as she dropped tears all over the newspaper. She knew the boy was now taken but she had to see him one more time.

She made her way to the court where she knew he’d be. When she arrived she was welcomed in and met by the very person she had come to see. Tewkesbury had saw her red eyes and his heart shattered at the thought of the girl he loved crying over anything. “Y/n? Are you alright?” He asked worried. The girl smiled the best she could and replied “yes, I’m alright. I just came to say congratulations on finding your wife, I do hope she knows how lucky she is.” She said with a smile that didn’t real. It may have to anyone else but him. “I’d actually been meaning to talk to you about that” he said. She tilted her head in confusion at him. He took that as his que to continue

“Yn ever since the day I met you in that train, I’ve felt this urge to always be near you. I don’t know if it’s th way you are able ti make me laugh, or you don’t care about what anyone says or just maybe the simple face that you are like no woman I have ever met. I don’t know but I know that I love you, and it would mean the world to me is you would do the honors of becoming my wife.” He said every word with so much emotion it bought more tears to y/ns eyes but good tears.

She didn’t say anything for a while and it made him nervous. “If you don’t it’s completely okay I’ll choose someo-“ he was cut off by y/n wrapping her arms around his neck and firmly pressing her lips to his. It took him a second before he kissed back. The kiss was filled with so much passion it sent fireworks through their bodies, his arms snaked around her waist and they both pulled away. “Soo I take that as a yes” Tewkesbury said breathlessly as she laugh and nodded her head looking into each others eyes deeply. A flash broke the two out of the trance and they both looked over to see Enola giving a thumbs up beside a man who was holding a camera. The two laughed as Enola ran up and congratulated both of them.

(An): Idrk how this is… I hope you like it I wrote it fairly quickly but I hope this is at least somewhat what you imagined, this is my first one for Tewkesburyso I don’t really have the feel of him yet but I will get it down pact I promise!! I imagined a different way this could have gone so let me know if you want me to write that one.

[ginarickys]

after 48+‎ hours of trying to encompass what it is about holmesbury‎ that works so well without venturing too far into‎ my personal bias toward them,‎ i think the best thing about‎ them is what they mean for each other’s lives.‎ long post ahead.

enola’s biggest distinction is that she’s self-sufficient.‎ from the very beginning,‎ she’s known her own abilities,‎ and she’s known that she wanted to remain independent.‎ independence‎ ≠ loneliness,‎ however,‎ and that was a lesson she still needed to learn.‎ her story with tewkesbury was never about her sacrificing her independence to be with him,‎ it was never about enola herself changing.‎ it was about her accepting that love didn’t hinder her independence or her strength.‎ at the end of the first movie,‎ enola refuses his offer to stay with him because she’s essentially refusing to sidetrack her own desires.‎ she also refuses him because,‎ at the time,‎ she wasn’t ready to accept that both of these things could coexist.‎ this is so representative of how to be truly independent and what makes enola so different from characters like sherlock by the end of the second film.‎ she’s learned that she can be with someone and still be her,‎ no change necessary,‎ and immediately puts it into practice because that’s who she is.

it’s not only important that she didn’t have to change to be with tewkesbury,‎ but‎ also that he grew as a person from being with her.

most people might look at the circumstances these two met under and insist that enola parallels disruption in tewkesbury’s life,‎ but it couldn’t be more obvious that she represents a necessary change. when he’s first introduced,‎ tewkesbury is a boy trying to outrun the politics of his family.‎ becoming intertwined with enola means accepting the unconventional,‎ the things he never saw growing up the way that he did.‎ enola is strong,‎ she’s a fighter,‎ and he’s‎ never just looked at her as a girl that he loves.‎ he’s looked at her wit and her courage,‎ and albeit chaotic in the moment,‎ it’s what tewkesbury needed.‎ he needed to meet someone who didn’t need to be saved,‎ and tewkesbury didn’t have to change because of that,‎ he just needed to be willing to accept it.

they propel each other,‎ as well as counter each other,‎ and their relationship not only teaches them something new,‎ but makes them stronger because of it.‎ the fact is that they’re one of the of the most accurate teen romances due to how they showed each other something new.‎ seeing enola act so ooc,‎ getting jealous of seeing tewkesbury with another girl,‎ conveniently ending up on the same path as him,‎ all of it makes sense for someone who’s trying to deny that she’s fallen in love. it doesn’t dim that she’s a capable young woman,‎ it simply makes her more human. tewkesbury basically admitting that he loved enola on three separate occasions because he’s never known someone like her makes sense for a boy who’s been exposed to something new,‎ and found himself needing more of it.

this goes as far back to the first film.‎ the scene where tewkesbury is shot and enola is overcome with emotion.‎ her tears,‎ her vulnerability are what make them so real.‎ he brings out the side of her that has no qualms about crying,‎ or about being open. in that moment,‎ the two of them truly became tethered to one another.‎ it also reinforces that tewkesbury has never downgraded enola and her capability.‎ he’s never treated her like this thing that needs to be protected,‎ even if he does view her as delicate,‎ and is still so reluctant to hit her while they’re in the carriage before the two of them have their first proper kiss.‎ they parallel back to this scene in the second film when tewkesbury once again checks to see if enola is okay.‎ him knowing that she’s capable has never stopped him from worrying,‎ or chasing her down whenever she’s been gone for too long.

he doesn’t do it because he’s her keeper. he does it out of love. he wouldn’t do anything that would consciously hurt enola, even knowing how strong she is,‎ because of that love.‎ enola will never be like any other woman,‎ she’ll never stop persisting once she’s set her mind to something,‎ and tewkesbury will never be able to truly hold her back. he has no desire to.‎ he sees enola for who she is and he loves her all the same.

their separate worlds are essentially what make them work so well.‎‎ their inclusion in each other’s lives,‎ whether accidental or purposeful,‎ exposed them to things they both needed,‎ and added to their strength as characters.‎ enola has a man that she loves,‎ that loves her,‎ and she didn’t have to stop being herself for that to happen.‎ tewkesbury has now become more responsible and faithful to his duties,‎ but he’s still a lover of flowers,‎ and a lover of enola,‎ and all of those things get to coincide.

their relationship is all about growth and healthy change. it isn’t as simple as a “she hates every boy but one” trope,‎ nor is it simply sacrificing enola’s strength, or her reducing her as an individual just so she can conform to her male love interest.‎ they’re both their own characters,‎ with more differences than similarities,‎ but the love that they share is genuine and that doesn’t make them less of anything. that makes them better.

[azrielgreen]

The Way It Shouldn't Be - Final Part

They're playing a song Eddie would hate and everyone's paired up and pretending like they got ANY of Tommy's liquor, dancing wildly and laughing loud but not loud enough to drown out the song Eddie would hate.

Steve's on the fringes, watching.

Has his own alcohol, got a never ending supply from his Dad's office. He thinks of the massive blowout party he and Tommy and the boys always planned for. Post Prom Insanity: partying for two maybe three days and then taking a roadtrip together, see other places, go on adventures.

Tommy's engaged to Carol, who's pregnant and no one's meant to know but of course everyone does. He's gonna work for his Dad, the thing he always said he never wanted to do. Everyone else, Steve wouldn't piss on them if they were on fire so yeah, no party.

No road trip.

No Eddie.

But Steve's there; hired the tux and everything, so why fuckin' not?

He drinks and imagines fucking Eddie somewhere on campus, the music playing while they kiss. He imagines a lot of shit that's not ever gonna happen because good things don't last.

They're not made to last.

It's not the way things are.

Whatever.

Stupid Enola Gay comes on and Steve tries not get all caught up in the melody, the way the minor keys fuck him up.

Eddie's not coming.

He knows because he swung by Eddie's trailer earlier, met Wayne.

The older man was kind, but really clear when he said Eddie was staying with friends for a few days.

Steve is sulking.

Kind of spoiling for a fight.

First dick he sees harassing a girl is gonna eat it, simple as that.

God, he feels like a chaperone.

Like he's a thousand years old.

Cannot wait to get home, cry and jerk off before he falls asleep. Wonderful plans. Stellar.

'Fuck you,' he mutters, takes another slug. Enola Gay always moves him.

He gives up when the song ends, what's the literal point of staying when the best song is already gone.

He's sulky, moody and still heartbroken.

Still in love.

It's not how it should be.

He knows that.

But it's how it fucking is.

He's leaving, he decides.

He feels ruthlessly good about it when someone grabs his hand and yanks him with knowing roughness.

'Dumping out, Harrington?'

He whirls, blinks.

Is a little drunk but like... not enough for this.

'Eddie?'

He looks...

Oh my god he's kind of dressed up.

For Eddie, he's dressed up, meaning he looks way more Devil Worshipper than usual. Hair all roughed up and wavy, eyeliner, all black, laced untied and that godforsaken Dio cut off he adores.

He's got a silver earring in; a dangly rose. It's undoubtedly something a girl would wear, all sparkly.

'Oh my god,' Steve mutters, dazed.

Then he shakes himself and smacks Eddie around the face.

'OK, ow.'

'You fucker! You don't call me for weeks and now you just rock up here, looking stupidly hot--'

'Aww thanks, babe.'

'--like no time has passed and nothing happened!'

Eddie sighs, glances around.

'People are staring.'

'I don't care!'

'You're drunk!'

'Well, you're an idiot!'

'Well, I love you.'

'Well, I love YOU-wait, no. What?'

Eddie rolls his eyes, pulls Steve close.

'I want us too.' Then he lets out a shaky sigh, strokes Steve's face. 'Christ, everyone is literally staring but i--'

Steve kisses him.

The world jumps the tracks.

The song skips.

Nothing will ever be the same.

It's the best fucking kiss of his life.

'I wanna fuck you.'

'Right here?' Eddie's kissing him back, its delightful, fucking gorgeius. 'Man, you really are a kinky fucker, but I've actually for a surprise for you?'

'You're not gonna sing to me, right?'

'Have a little faith in me, Harrington.'

'Does it get us the fuck out of here?'

Eddie grins, grabs his hand again.

*

'So, what do you think?'

Steve can't think. His brain is all mushy.

'Um.'

'You don't like it.'

'Eddie,' he says with soft astonishment. 'You didn't have to do this.'

The van is big, spacious. Steve's been in it before when it was not spacious, at all. Eddie has cleared the back completely but more than that, he's got supplies inside. Bedrolls, pillows, knives (of course) as well as cases of bottled water, canned good, tools, a compass and a map.

'I heard good things about Chicago.'

'From who?'

'A lady trying to sell me tickets to Chicago, but look.' Eddie sighs, wraps his arms around Steve's middle from behind. 'I just wanna try. I wanna be with you and not be scared to lose out. I can't run, don't wanna do that.' He kisses his neck. 'I'm in if you are.'

'We could go anywhere?'

'Anywhere.'

'What if you hate me after a week?'

'That's why god invented hatefucking.'

'What if we get lost?'

Eddie's lips are warm against his skin. 'Sounds fun.'

'What if--?'

'Gonna save you some time, Harrington, there's a million reasons not to do something, OK? We don't have to, but I saw the maps on your wall. I know you want to blast outta this town and so do I. I love you, Steve. I'm being brave. You wanna be brave too?'

Steve leans his head back, looks up at the stars. He can hear the music from inside, muffled but still undeniable. Eddie's all around him, they're swaying a little.

He closes his eyes, smiles.

'Dance with me first?'

~ the end.

💕💕💕

[girlfromthecrypt]

Progress report time!

Yesterday as well as today were both great days for writing. Chapter 4 is now sitting at 25.568 words, and I'd say it's halfway finished.

It consists of a wakeup scene, then the MC grappling with what happened the night before, some decisions in regards to MC's sanity... then you get to meet Enola, the girl who punched a boy so hard his nose bled!

Afterwards, it's hiking time. MC will be assigned a small group, together with either their preferred RO or (in the absence of a crush) their best friend RO.

If you decided to pick neither a best friend nor a crush, you get to go with Sawyer, who is annoyed and stinky from working in the kitchen. Fun!

So the hike takes up the biggest part of this chapter. I have already finished Flo and Anita's route for this, so now, there's only Reem, Basil (and Sawyer) left to go. The options for what to do on the hike are all pretty similar route-to-route, with only the ROs' reactions differing (and Sawyer's). It's mainly cozy bonding time with the campers, but there are hints of spooky stuff mixed in, and also an opportunity to get closer to the ROs (not Sawyer).

After that, there's gonna be another evening campfire section. And after that, a new nighttime event. But I won't spoil that yet.

[siriustaylorsversion]

lavender haze - louis partridge x reader

summary- reader being known as a psycho serial dater, like taylor and people asking louis about that but him not caring. the reader is a new charecter in enola holmes 2 and they made their relationship public recently. it's basically all of rep combined with the few lyrics of lavender haze that highlight a few moments that you share privately.

staring at the ceiling with you oh, you don't ever say too much and you don't really read into my melancholia

the light was blinding as i look a seat with my friends and the cast of one of the most popular movies on netflix... enola holmes 2! i remember being completely shocked when i got the call for my role, how i was so terrified to meet the cast, but now, i found my best friends and my love among them.

after finding out how paranoid i was one afternoon louis just blurted out his feelings for me. i had a hard time believing him but, they were true. his stuttering was the cutest thing ever. "have you seen yourself?!" he said. "they see you on the screen, they see the way you carry yourself, how you can make anyone cry by just acting that way and it only takes you three seconds to get in your role. they love you just like i do! well- i mean, damn that is not how i planned this would go."

I've been under scrutiny (yeah, oh yeah) You handle it beautifully (yeah, oh yeah) All this shit is new to me (yeah, oh yeah)

just his instagram post for my birthday makes my heart flutter every time.

louispartridge_

louispartridge_ happy birthday to the happiest soul in the universe. you make every morning worth waking up to and every day worth living. being with you has been like a roller coaster but one that only goes up and just gets more thrilling as time passes. i hope to wake up next to you every single day of my life and wish to spend every single second of my day with you. i love you so so much and i hope you'll let these wishes come true.

I feel a lavender haze creeping up on me So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say No deal, the 1950s shit they want from me I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

my love language has always been physical touch and even though i've never discussed this... he just seemed to know it. be it three squeezes on my wrist before an interview or resting his hand on my thigh below the dinner table, he always knew. he used to share our playlists that we made for each other to his friends with pride and always got me lavenders after a successful...or stressful shoot because of the first movie we ever watched together... it said that lavender haze is a term for love, and flowers are my favorite things.

All they keep asking me (all they keep asking me) Is if I'm gonna be your bride The only kind of girl they see (the only kind of girl they see) Is a one night or a wife

i was never prepared for all the fans' recognition and they treated me with love for a newbie... they asked polite questions and about my experience. it was going well until a fan asked louis about my...well, past. "as everyone knows, y/n has been acquainted with many men in the past so, how did you as a friend since you guys were friends before you got into a relationship, fall in love with her? was it that this was only for publicity, maybe a one night stand... or is it getting serious, i mean, can we hear wedding bells ringing?"

I find it dizzying (yeah, oh yeah) They're bringing up my history (yeah, oh yeah) But you aren't even listening (yeah, oh yeah)

i can sense his muscles tensing. below the table, he squeezes my hand three times to make sure i don't panic, and with a deep breath and a smile, answers their question. "well first of all, i don't know how how many men a women has dated in the past impacts your feelings towards her. like you said... we were friends first and i always found her attractive but just her little attention to details you say like when she once made a playlist for one of our friends which consisted of a song that reminded him of his mother... on his mother's death anniversary she promptly skipped that song when asked to play the playlist. or how she would give her 100% to everything she does, like once she learnt how to perfectly play a song on the guitar in 32 hours just because it was my dream to form my own band with my friends and sing something for my sisters wedding."

he looks at me for a second and notices tears in my eyes, " she's so caring towards everyone even if they may have hurt her and cannot stand animal cruelty at all. one of my favorite things about her... her sarcasm, of course. it's, as per her, one of her main qualities. she'll make you laugh in any situation and bring your mood up." i squeeze his hand tightly. "she's telling me to shut up now and so i will, it's things like this that made me fall in love with her and not her reputation. even for you, it never should be."

Talk your talk and go viral I just need this love spiral Get it off your chest Get it off my desk (get it off my desk) Talk your talk and go viral I just need this love spiral Get it off your chest Get it off my desk

the next day his beautiful speech was trending all over social media. we went back home from there and had a dinner in our apartment muttering sweet nothings in each other's ears and not caring about what anyone may or may not think about us.

I feel (I feel) a lavender haze creeping up on me So real, I'm damned if I do give a damn what people say No deal (no deal), the 1950s shit they want from me I just wanna stay in that lavender haze

it is reasons like this i am so completely and utterly smitten for this guy. i mean, who wouldn't be?! the lavender haze has taken over my whole body and i cannot wait for a future with him by my side. that's all i need forever and always.

talk to loved ones or youself... do something to make the day memorable &lt;3

[heliads]

Hi! If that's okay could i request Tewksbury x gn!reader?

You know that scene where Enola takes him to her room to talk about what she discovered? That scene with reader instead except they don't get attacked by the police and he ends up staying the night, nothing nsfw just fluff! And maybe he or they confess? And could you add the one bed troupe? Ty!!

Your choice of a scenario or headcanons, whatever you're more comfortable with! :)

honestly thank you so much for the choice of scenario or headcanons i appreciate the opportunity to have less of a workload, as a reward you get a full length fic

masterlist

After all these days of searching, you think you’ve managed to find him at last. You and Enola have been worried sick about what could have happened to the Viscount of Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether, Owner of Far Too Many Titles for quite some time now, so even the sight of what could be familiar brown tousled hair across a crowded city square fills you with a rush of relief.

He’s alright, that’s what matters most. You can catch the barest flickers of his smile from where you stand. Scores of people weave in between the two of you, but the distance is slowly shrinking. You didn’t expect to miss him quite as much as you did when you first parted ways, but for some reason the thought that you’ll be able to see him again is enough to make you smile like a giddy fool.

In a way, you are. Judging by all the nasty business with Linthorn and the people trying to follow you, you were worried that leaving Tewkesbury behind had been a mistake. What would you have done if that man with the bowler hat from the train had caught up to him? The consequences are more severe than you care to think about, yet here you are, finding Tewkesbury at last.

He doesn’t know you’re here, not yet. You’re still doing your best to remain unnoticed. You and Enola are getting more paranoid by the hour, a practice which has only served to keep the two of you alive and mostly out of trouble. You’re being tracked by Linthorn and his men, of that you have no doubt, but what matters most right now is getting to Tewkesbury before they can.

That’s why Enola is currently on another side of the city, doing her best to distract anyone trying to find you. She’s also hoping to locate Tewkesbury yourself if you couldn’t manage it, although you have to admit that you feel very pleased to be the one who’s found him first.

You hurry across the town square, ducking obliviously around throngs of people and charging coaches to make it over to him. Tewkesbury is helming a small flower stand, and, judging by the empty spots in the vases lining his table, he’s making his fortune quite easily. 

That might be due in part to the easy smiles he’s giving out like extra change to any passersby. In fact, the customer currently purchasing a bouquet is looking at Tewkesbury as if she’d rather like to buy him, too, just for the thrill of propping him up in her house for a good stare or two. For some reason, the way that the girl keeps eyeing him makes a knot twist in your stomach, some deep unhappiness that only allows itself to be known through no uncertain pressure.

Just when you fear you may be swept away on the tide of what is definitely not jealousy, Tewkesbury looks up and sees you. Instantly, any thoughts of the girl in front of him, if they even existed in the first place, vanish from his face. It becomes clear that he must have been faking a good temper before, because the sheer joy on his face is infinitely better what he’d been displaying just a few minutes ago.

Evidently picking up on the fact that she’s no longer remotely on Tewkesbury’s mind, the flirtatious customer sighs in irritation and leaves. You don’t even think Tewkesbury noticed, he’s beaming ear to ear as you hurry up to him.

“Y/N!” He says, absolutely delighted. “What are you doing here? I didn’t think I was ever going to see you again.”

You laugh. “Well, I’m sorry to disappoint.”

“No,” Tewkesbury hurries to assure you, “not disappointed in the slightest. Really, I couldn’t be happier. What’s going on? How did you find me?”

“It’s not just me who’s been trying to find you,” you relate, “I think I’m being followed. Most likely you are too. There’s some man out there who’s been trying to find you. Enola and I split up so we could try to get to you first before anything happened. I’m glad I found you.”

“I’m glad you found me, too,” Tewkesbury says, then hurries to straighten some already pristine display on his stand before you can notice the blush rising to his cheeks.

You allow him a moment or two to collect himself, then continue on. “We’ve found out a lot since we saw you last. Do you know anywhere we could talk without being overheard? Sorry for being nervous, it’s just that I’d rather not have anyone know we were here.”

Tewkesbury nods, a faint grin on his face. “What, are you worried about getting into a fight?”

You blow out a tired breath. “You’d be surprised.”

His face turns awestruck. “You’ve been in a fight?”

“Yeah,” you say, glancing across the street to see if you spot Linthorn, “in trying to protect you, too. You’ll be pleased to know that I won.”

When you turn back to Tewkesbury, he’s regarding you with a charmed look, like he could listen to you talk for hours on end and never tire of it. Something tells you that the thought of you choosing his side over safety or anything else means more to him than Tewkesbury could possibly put into words.

Whatever he’s thinking, though, neither of you are quite brave enough to express it at the moment. Tewkesbury clears his throat and gestures towards the street.

“I have a place not far from here where we should be fine to talk. Just let me close up shop and we should be good to go.”

You watch him work with a smile. “You know, I do have to admit that it’s cool that you did all this. You know, you were able to set up your own store in Covent Garden and all that. Not bad for a boy on the run.”

Tewkesbury straightens up with an amused look. “Is that a compliment? I think I’m touched.”

You roll your eyes, but can’t hide a grin. “You’re allowed to have them every now and then. I’m not Enola, I can refrain from sarcasm once in a while.”

“I’m well aware that you’re not Enola,” he says, and for some reason you get the feeling that he’s very appreciative of the fact, too. It makes a flush of heat spiral up your cheeks until you have to look away to get your bearings once again.

Tewkesbury leads you through the busy streets until he comes to a stop in front of a locked door.

“This is my place,” he says by way of explanation, “I had to do a fair amount of convincing so the owner would even allow me to let the room, but it’s not too bad. It means no one is trying to follow me, at least. Well, except you.”

You laugh. “Thanks for the clarification.”

Tewkesbury chuckles and leads you upstairs. You can see a hallway with many similar doors stretching out into what feels like an endless abyss of rooms, but Tewkesbury seems to know the way to his flat like the back of his hand. Soon enough, he’s locking the door behind you, and the two of you are alone at last. You were together like this in the marketplace, but for some reason, it’s different now that no one else can see you.

Tewkesbury gestures for you to take a seat and settles into a chair opposite you. “So?” He asks, always curious, “what’s been going on?”

You let out a frustrated breath. “Everything. Enola and I have been running ourselves ragged trying to keep up with Linthorn and your family. Honestly, we were worried sick that we wouldn’t be able to find you in time. We agreed to meet up tomorrow morning, hopefully with you in tow.”

“At least we have a destination for tomorrow,” Tewkesbury muses. “And a plan, I hope?”

You nod. “The barest scrap of one, but it does for now. What, will you be sad to leave your flower stand?”

“A little,” he admits, “it was nice to pretend that I could have a life as simple as that, but I knew it was only temporary. Still, I get the feeling I’ll have reasons to enjoy my future anyway, with or without selling flowers in Covent Garden.”

Again, you get that feeling that he’s hinting towards more than he could ever say. You quickly steer the conversation back towards safer shores, like the fact that there’s at least one man out there trying to kill both of you, and slowly you’re able to fight back the wave of heat that’s currently dusting your cheeks.

It’s easy to spend time with Tewkesbury. You forgot about that in the time since you’ve last seen him, but it’s true. Before you know it, the dangerous topics of Tewkesbury’s family and Linthorn’s plotting are left far behind. You and Tewkesbury laugh until your ribs are sore, trading jokes like you’ve known each other all your lives instead of just a short matter of time. He is fascinating to speak to, host to knowledge you’d never guess at in your entire life. 

At the same time, you seem to hold his attention in the palm of your hand like a flightless bird, never to soar away. Every time you open your mouth to voice a single syllable, Tewkesbury looks at you with his heart in his eyes, totally captivated by you. It’s enough to make anyone feel important, and you are certainly no exception.

Before you know it, you’re fighting back a yawn in between another tangent of conversation. You do your best to hide the sudden bout of exhaustion that’s flung itself upon you, but Tewkesbury notices you. Always the eagle eye when it comes to spotting details about you, right? It’s as if he can only ever look at you, so he might as well do it right.

Tewkesbury glances at the window behind him and his face transfigures with surprise. “My goodness, it’s already so late. I had no idea.”

Sure enough, when you glance through the leaded panes, you notice that the streets outside have already succumbed to night. Darkness has fallen upon the town, pierced consistently by the even light of lanterns lining the streets.

You curse under your breath. You hadn’t meant to stay this long, but then again, if you were to do it all again, you have a feeling you’d repeat this afternoon exactly the same way. You haven’t felt half so light or free as when you’re talking with Tewkesbury. He makes you feel as if nothing in the world could ever trouble you, and when you have as many problems as you do right now, that’s certainly something worth your time.

Still, even the best of evenings have to end at some point, and the moon rising over the horizon acts as your timepiece for the night, signaling that you’re going to have to call off your happiness for the time being.

“I’d better head out,” you say, rising to your feet, “I’ll come back in the morning, we can go meet Enola. It’s just not safe for you to keep up your life here, not until we figure out Linthorn.”

Tewkesbury jerks into a standing position as well. “Wait, you can’t go out there by yourself, it’s pitch black. I’ll walk with you.”

You shake your head. “Then you’d be coming back here in the dead of night. Linthorn’s out there somewhere on the lookout for you, it would be too dangerous. I have to go by myself.”

Tewkesbury refuses to take no for an answer. “Then stay here. If I can’t go with you, you can’t walk these streets after dark on your own. I have space, you can stay the night.”

You hesitate, wavering on the edge of what you truly want and what surely must be done. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“Well, I can’t ask you to keep helping me stay safe from Linthorn, and you do it anyway,” Tewkesbury reasons, “Look, it’s no big deal at all. I promise.”

You cave at last. “Alright. I am rather tired.”

Tewkesbury grins, thrilling over his victory. He looks around to offer you a place to sleep, and that’s when the two of you reach an insurmountable problem at the exact same time. When Tewkesbury found this place, he was only thinking that he’d be host to himself. For this reason, there’s only one bed, and for this reason, the fact that you’re going to be here too creates many, many difficulties.

“I’ll sleep in the armchair,” you say quickly. “It looks quite comfortable.”

Tewkesbury scoffs. “That’s a lie and you know it. You take the bed, I’ll be in the armchair.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” you argue.

“And I’m not forcing you to stay here overnight just to delegate you to the chair,” Tewkesbury replies just as quickly, “Take the bed.”

“You take the bed,” you quarrel.

“We can both take the bed,” Tewkesbury says in a rush, and both of you try to pretend as if that declaration isn’t somehow both the most perfect solution and also the most terrifying option that could possibly come out of this debate.

Not one to show any sign of weakness, you nod before Tewkesbury can take it back. “Alright. It’s big enough for the two of us. It’ll be fine.”

“Very fine,” Tewkesbury adds, although you notice that he does look a bit panicked at the thought.

The two of you have gone and committed to the idea now, though, so it’s not like there’s anything you can do about it. You dress for sleep and crawl into the bed, Tewkesbury on the other side. It was definitely meant for one person, which is made clear when both of your efforts to give each other as much space as possible result in you practically falling onto the ground.

At last, you sigh and give in to what must be done. You turn on your side to face Tewkesbury and stretch out an arm to reach out to him. He stiffens at first, then turns over as well. Your head fits perfectly against his chest, and when his arm wraps around you, you wonder why either of you ever tried anything else. It’s as if you’re two halves of one being, always meant to be here together. The thought of ever getting up and splitting away from him feels like a strike through the heart.

Tewkesbury speaks quietly against the top of your head. “I’m glad you’re here. Really glad.”

You smile. “I’m glad too.”

It is easy to sleep after that, regardless of the fact that there’s a stranger out in the city who wishes for the quick death of both of you. Right here, nestled in Tewkesbury’s arms, the thought of danger has never even occurred to you. No safety net has ever been woven of stronger stuff. The stars wheel in the sky overhead and the two of you sleep soundly, brows smoothed of worry. All is well.

requested by @dexpairs-blog, i hope you enjoy!

enola holmes tag list: empty for now!

[daughter-of-melpomene]

HOLIDAY SHOUTOUTS

Merry Christmas and happy holidays, everyone!! Whether you celebrate or not, I sincerely hope that your day today is amazing and full of love and light <3. That said, I wanted to give some special shoutouts here to all the fellow creators who have helped to make my year that much better. I love every single one of you, and I want to thank every single person who has interacted with my stuff and sent me asks about my babies, but for now these people deserve some special love for all they’ve done for me. Therefore, I want to shout out:

— @luucypevensie, for always listening to my ramblings, no matter how crazy, and for always being willing to talk about crossovers with me.

— @dancingsunflowers-ocs, for being so endlessly supportive of all my plot bunnies and ideas, and for making the most beautiful moodboard gift for my boy Sebastian.

— @carmens-garden, for being my man Wyatt’s biggest fan, for making such beautiful gifts for her exchanges, and for being part of the inspiration for my new Teen Wolf OCs!

— @auxiliarydetective, for introducing me to both One Piece and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen this year (and inspiring my babies Star, Lark, Enola, and Lila as a result), always being willing to listen to my half-crazy ramblings, and teaching me about both ancient Roman society and how German schools work.

— @oneirataxia-girl, for inspiring me to actually introduce my Narnia babies, being my girl Annie’s biggest fan, and just generally being the absolute best.

— @starcrossedjedis, for being an amazing newfound friend this year, being the other person who inspired me to watch One Piece, and just generally being a super cool mom friend.

— @endless-oc-creations, for being the biggest champion of my babies Luci and Carlos, convincing me to watch The Walking Dead, and for the absolutely amazing edits she made for my slasher OC.

— @come-along-pond, as always, for inspiring me to watch The Boys, teaching me British slang, and calling me Mother many times on Discord.

— @ginevrastilinski-ocs, for making such beautiful gifts for my girl Ivana for the Halloween exchange, always sending me asks when I needed them, and being my sister in cool Winchester sister OCs.

— @asirensrage, for always being an inspiration to me and putting up with my rambles in her inbox, and being one of the coolest creators in the game.

— @arrthurpendragon, for always being the best OC fairy godmother any of us could ask for, for her amazing fics, and for inspiring me to create my new Pride & Prejudice babies.

— @nolanhollogay and @witchofinterest, for being some more newfound friends this year and always supporting my ramblings on the queer OC Discord - you guys are the best!!

— @richitozier, for always being an inspiration to me, and for having genuinely some of the coolest OCs and most amazing edits around.

— @bibaybe, for working tirelessly to run the queerocs blog and always hyping up my babies and sending me asks when I needed them most.

— @eddiemunscns, for inspiring me to create three new Ted Lasso OCs, being super nice whenever I chose to bother her, and just generally being a cool person.

And so many more people that I’m so sorry if I’m forgetting!! Again, I really really hope you all have an amazing day even if you’re not celebrating anything, and remember I love and appreciate every single one of you!! ✨🎄