#platonic enola holmes

[heliads]

Enola Holmes x sibling!reader who isn’t as smart as Enola and feels inadequate because of it; and gets hurt on a case and worries Enola?

'my mind isn't yours' - enola holmes

masterlist

To be a Holmes is to be beyond anything or anyone else. No one in your family would ever say this aloud, of course; it didn’t need to be said, and all of your direct blood relations knew better than to say things that weren’t needed. You have your mind for the long, extensive, impractical thoughts, but spoken words are meant to be heard and pondered over for generations. A Holmes does not need to state their supposed victory over their neighbours. It is simply known and celebrated in the glorious expanse of their own private intellect.

Sometimes, though, again in the quiet confines of your mind, you wonder if this divine knowledge skipped a beat when it came to you. You may be a Holmes in blood and legal right, but that doesn’t mean you think like them. Sometimes, it feels a bit like being an outsider in your own family, watching Sherlock and Enola race off on proverbial puzzles while you sit back and try to pick up the pieces they’ve already put together.

You try not to let it get to you, but it’s hard not to feel some sort of inferior. You’re a clever student in your own right, but clever alone does not a Holmes make. You’re supposed to be a genius like your brother or a prodigy like your sister, but instead you just feel like you. Y/N Holmes, not a screwup in any sense but worse than that to some– completely, utterly normal. Base level. Right in the middle of the pack if a little bit above.

To a Holmes, though, mediocrity is a mortal sin. Sherlock and Enola seem leagues out of your reach. Since Enola is closest to you in age, you feel the sharp stab of that comparison with extra burn. She excels even despite the extra burden of being a young woman in this world of yours, but you could never burst the bubble and go shooting far beyond the stars like her.

You’ve never brought up any of this to either Enola or Sherlock, of course, but there’s no reason to do so. You have no doubt that they both realized your inadequacies compared to them far early on. Why comment on something that’s so obvious? Every time you’re working on a case together and they both figure out the twist in the plot ages before you, you can feel that deep cut slice open afresh. You don’t have to be a complete genius, you were never planning on becoming a mastermind academic anyway, but goodness knows you really want to feel like something compared to them.

It aches away, but what can you do? With your mother off doing who knows what, Sherlock and Enola are the closest you have to family. You have your friends, of course, but they don’t understand what it is to be a Holmes, even if you don’t entirely feel like one all the time either. To put it simply, it’s your siblings or nothing sometimes, and goodness knows there’s an awful lot of aching in nothingness even when the only alternative makes you feel terrible about yourself too.

And thus you find a way to sit on the outskirts of the case discussion and puzzle solving sessions anyway. Maybe you can’t always be the first to untangle the riddles, but you can be the first to offer up a cup of tea, and sometimes there’s something they’ve overlooked in their grand hurry to get to the finish line that you can point out and feel useful for along the way. It’s not awful, no, not in the slightest. You just wish it could be a little better as well.

You’re reminded of this little agony whenever they stumble upon a new case, which, as luck would have it, happened recently. Mysterious ransom notes are popping up all over town. Some group of strangers is threatening the top businesses around, demanding cash and gold in exchange for being left alone. No one was really taking the notes seriously until a small bank ignored the messages and had their establishment robbed before being burnt to the ground.

Now, the case has been turned over to the Holmes’ possession. Well, it’s been given to Sherlock and Enola, to be precise. They’ve been kind enough to allow you to join their inner circle while they try to puzzle the whole thing out, but you swear there’s this unspoken agreement that they’ll be the ones finding the solution, not you. It’s not like they’d ever bar you from speaking, they just know that you won’t have anything new to say that they hadn’t already come up with.

You sit silently, watching them go back and forth. Sherlock and Enola get lost in their own world at times like this, forgetting there’s even a country or universe outside of their feverish planning. At the end of an hour’s time, though, they’ve decided that the criminals must be hidden somewhere near an abandoned railway station near the southern end of the city, and that their main modus operandi involves bribing secretaries in each building to anonymously drop off the notes, then clue them into easy ways to get into the businesses without getting caught.

More importantly, this group of thieves has managed to get their hands on a master ring of keys to the city through bribing an overworked and embittered assistant of the chief inspector. So long as these crooks have that key ring, they’ll be able to let themselves into whatever building they please, and the demands will just keep worsening until the entire city has been wrung dry.

An idea is occurring to you. You may not have been able to figure out the clues quite as easily as Sherlock and Enola, but you can still be helpful. While they’re haggling over how exactly to move forward, an idea is already occurring to you. You take after your mother in one important manner:  you are a person of action. When you are given direction, you follow it exactly. And, when you come across a situation in need of a physical solution, you take charge and get the job down. Adrenaline is your best friend, followed quickly by good balance and good coordination. This, at last, is where you can step in.

Sherlock and Enola are too busy with their plotting to notice when you sneak out of Sherlock’s flat and creep into the city. You’ve got an hour or two until nightfall, which means it’s the perfect time to strike. These robbers will have day jobs and places to be. There’s a reason all of the attacks happened at night, it’s because these people had to keep up pretenses until they could break into the businesses under the cover of darkness.

That means you’ll have a very short window of time in which to find their hideout and grab the master key ring before they come back. You don’t doubt that the key ring will be in their foxhole near the abandoned railway station; they can’t exactly risk bringing it back to any of their respective flats and having it found out by the maids or neighbours.

You stealthily make your way over to the abandoned railway station. The sun is setting much faster than you’d like, so much for taking your time to thoroughly scout out the place. Then again, that doesn’t much matter. What’s most important is getting that key ring and getting out, then seeing the looks on Sherlock and Enola’s faces when they realize you’ve saved the day.

It is this thought of victory that propels you into the station house. You stalk down the dusty corridors, checking in rooms and peering in the drawers of desks. Most everything here seems long abandoned, but there’s one room at the far end of the hall that seems most frequently used, at least judging by the smears of fresh mud outside the door. 

After pausing to listen carefully in case of approaching footsteps, you quickly try the doorknob and are surprised to find it opens easily. These guys were so sure of themselves that they didn’t even bother to lock the door. You try a few drawers in the desk in the center of the room, and you grin in silent victory when you find the key ring sitting in one of them, covered halfway by a stack of folders labeled with the names of various buildings in the city.

You grab the key ring and the folders as well, just in case extra evidence is needed. Just as you’re straightening up, though, you hear sounds echoing through the dusty hallways. You panic, quickly closing the desk drawers and heading for the door. You won’t have time to run, though; you can see a silhouette in the corridor, right outside the door.

Instead, you flatten yourself to the wall right next to the door. Moments after you get into position, the door flies open and a man steps inside. Brow furrowed, he calls out a name, likely one of his compatriots.

“Miller? Was that you I heard?”

The second he’s clear of the door, you immediately scurry back outside. You do your best to be quiet, but the man whips around.

“Hey! Get back here!”

You’re not all that inclined to follow instructions, especially when doing so would likely bring great danger onto yourself, so you hurl yourself out into the corridor, dashing down the dusty floor in a mad sprint. The man immediately gives chase. He almost catches up to you by the end of the hallway, but a series of quick turns give you a chance to put more distance between the two of you again.

All that’s left between you and the freedom of the outside air is a wide, rickety staircase. You go up the stairs as quickly as you can. Risking a glance behind you so you can tell how close the man is behind you, your eyes widen when you realize he’s pulled out a knife. You’re almost to the top, so close, but the man lunges at you in an attempt to slow you down and you feel a hot pain as the knife cuts through your sleeve and slices your arm. It’s not a deep cut, or you don’t think so, at least, but it’s the extra incentive you need to push yourself to the top of the staircase and out into the open.

Immediately, you’re greeted with loud shouting. For a moment, you panic, and then you realize it’s the inspector with his men. “You’re alright,” one of them tells you, “Stand aside so we can put the thief under arrest.”

You nod, taking a hasty sidestep so you won’t get in their way. The robber comes up just seconds after you, but upon seeing the police, he immediately starts sprinting down the abandoned railway. The inspector and his men give chase, and you watch them go shouting down into the gloomy distance.

You’re not alone for long. Sherlock comes up to you, shaking his head. “That was an absurd move to pull. Give me the key ring and folders, I’ve got to get this to the inspector as soon as possible.”

You want to protest that you should be the one handing over the evidence since you went to so much trouble to get it, but one firm look from Sherlock reminds you of how much trouble you’re probably in for pulling a stunt like this and you quickly hand over the materials. He starts walking back towards the city proper, trading out his spot by your side with your sister.

Enola. Great. She looks furious. “Just what were you thinking?” She asks incredulously. “That was ridiculously stupid. And look, you’re bleeding. This is awful.”

You frown. “Don’t call me stupid.”

“I’m not calling you stupid, just the idea to break into the robbers’ hideaway,” she clarifies. “I mean, why on Earth would you feel compelled to do this?”

Looking at the tortured expression on her face makes the last of your confidence bleed away. The whole point of retrieving the key ring was so your siblings would finally feel like you might be one of their equals, but now they’re even more convinced of your bad decision-making skills. This was precisely the opposite of what was supposed to happen.

“Well, that’s the thing,” you say desperately. “If I can’t be the smart one, if I can’t be the one making all the clever plans and figuring out the loopholes like you and Sherlock, at least I can be the brave one. At least that’s something right I can do.”

Enola’s face slackens. “What are you talking about?”

You laugh bitterly. “I’m sure you’ve figured it out by now. Come on, you can crack cases and solve puzzles in your sleep but you can’t understand your own sibling? I’m not like you two. I’m not as smart as you and Sherlock, and I hate that.”

Enola shakes her head. “I’ve never thought that in my entire life. We’re both chatterboxes, obviously, but just because you weren’t talking as much as either of us didn’t mean I thought you weren’t as smart. I just assumed you were doing your thinking in your head instead of out loud, which was what I was supposed to be doing, anyway.”

You look at her cautiously. “Really?”

“Really,” she promises. “Y/N, the thought had never so much as occurred to me. I’m so sorry, I wish I had realized you felt this way sooner. You’re my sibling. Of course I hold you in the greatest regards. I mean, I never would have been brave enough to march into the thieves’ hideout like that on my own, not without several hours of planning to make myself better about it. You up and decided it just like that. I was so impressed with the whole affair, only I was so worried about you that I forgot to tell you.”

You smile at her. “I’m glad you think so, Enola.”

“Well, of course I do,” she says exasperatedly. “What else would I think about? Now come on, we’ve got to get that arm of yours bandaged. Maybe I’ll see about getting the paper to put something in about you being a local hero while I’m at it, too. It would be quite deserved.”

You laugh. “That’s more than I was expecting, to be sure. I’ll settle for knowing that you’re proud.”

“That, of course, is already decided,” Enola declares, and starts to lead you back into town. Watching the sun set overhead, you think that this little rescue mission of yours went quite according to plan indeed. Perhaps you’ll have to stage another one fairly soon.

enola tag list: @mayfieldss

all tags list: @wordsarelife

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being Enola Holmes' sibling:

You've always been the quieter one out of the two.

Your mother worked with you on that, trying to help you find ways to communicate if you didn't want to talk. She was happy to help.

You were less of a fighter than Enola was. More creatively gifted.

Still, your sister and you could - and would - communicate through only a stare or a look.

She always tried to keep you involved in what she was doing.

Your mother saw your interest in the word 'they' in books. You would refer to people like that without even thinking.

You would immediately correct yourself however as if you had made a mistake.

"Do you want to be referred to that way, Y/N?" Your mother asked. And, as much as you shook your head, she knew you better than that.

So, without thinking, your mother and your sister would. Even if you seemed to pause, or flinch at it.

As Enola and you road to the station, she would mention you to...well, the audience, "and then there is my sibling, Y/N. Which I think is a scrumptious name. However...they have been more withdrawn lately. It worries me, truth be told."

Still, your mother goes missing. It feels like a part of you is gone too. Your peace has been disturbed.

Enola, despite your protests, sticks up for you against your brothers and Miss Harrison. With both the pronouns and how they are treating you both.

When she gets slapped for her disobedience, you feel terrible.

You aren't wild children, just children who have been abandoned by your mother.

You were never one for abiding by all social rules. You made your own. You especially, it was one of the many things your sister admired about you.

You and Enola stick together. Going to the tree together. You don't need to talk, just each other's company is enough.

Your creativity comes into play as you help solve the first puzzle that your mother left behind.

"Brilliant deduction, Y/N!"

She's always been your biggest supporter.

So, off the two of you go. Breaking the rules once again, dressing how you shouldn't.

Enola sees a light in your eyes. And she couldn't be happier.

You both run into Tewksbury. He, correctly, identifies you both as not boys.

"Why isn't --"

"Arent they," Enola corrects.

"Sorry?"

"They."

"...Right. Of course, sorry. Why aren't...they, talking?"

"Maybe they don't want to waste their voice talking to someone like you," Enola says, looking at you and seeing your discomfort at this moment, and leaving with you.

However, as he said to you that people were after him, when a man passes you and enters your previous place of residence on the train, you can guess why.

You tap Enola on the shoulder, pointing back to where you were.

"No. Please, can we just move on? He's not worth it."

You shake your head, going back. Enola, always having your back, follows. Even if she doesn't like this idea.

You both help Tewksbury and run to the edge of the train.

Together, the three of you jump to escape.

Enola looks to you, first to check on you - but you are just cleaning yourself off as best you can, but also to show her exasperation at Tewksbury never shutting up.

"I wish you would be like, Y/N. Honestly."

Tewksbury, however, continues to talk. He asks you who you are, and who you actually are. Why you've run away. Where you are going.

As Enola continues to get frustrated with him, you put your eyes on the flowers and nature around you, instead.

The pair stop as they realise you aren't following them. Enola looks with a smile, while Tewksbury looks confused. You pick out a flower and put it in your shirt pocket. He tells you a bit about it, you nod, a light in your eyes as you learn more about the flower.

Then, excitedly, you jog past them, gesturing for them to follow. The pair do.

You've found a good place to camp.

Using what your mother taught you, you both set it up.

Not interested in getting to know your new traveling companion, you go to sleep first.

"Why --"

"Sh!" Enola whispers, gesturing to you.

Tewksbury nods, "why don't they talk?" he asks, more gently, this time, "and...they? It doesn't seem to fit."

"It does for them," she says, firmly, "as for the talking part, it's just never been something they've ever done."

"Don't you find that...odd?" he's not sure how to word it in a way that doesn't sound mean.

Enola, however, seems to understand it. She shrugs, "not really. It's just been who they are. I've never known them any other way, really."

"Are you not worried that...other people might see them that way?"

Enola looks to the fire, shrugging again. This time a sag to her shoulders, "I don't think the world would be that kind to me, either."

"Me neither," Tewksbury admits.

Enola looks at him with a smile, maybe he's not so bad after all.

The next day, you notice, Enola is more happy. She has a spring in her step. Finally, you all make it to London.

As you bit farwell to Tewksbury, with Enola him and having some banter about names, it's just the pair of you now.

You nudge her. She nudges you back, "shut up."

You raise your hands, before signing, "I didn't say anything."

She just chuckles, leading you both into the city.

It's...big. And scary. And loud.

You take Enola's hand and squeeze it.

She holds it the whole time, making sure you know she's with you.

You make to the clothes shop.

"Sorry," you sign to her as you enter the store, finally releasing her hand.

"It's alright," she reassures, "it's a lot for me too."

While Enola finds her clothes easily, you are more of a trouble.

You go through each one carefully, checking the fabric and colour.

Despite your mother being missing, Enola lets you take all the time you need. You got the mirror countless times, before finally settling.

"I knew you'd like that one," she says.

You get to work on the letters to try find the next hint to finding your mother. That leads you to a friend, then to a place filled with explosives and other not-so-nice things.

As Enola leaves, you are dragged back by the man from the train.

He dunks your head underwater, bringing you up and asking about Tewksbury, "not speaking, eh?" he says, shoving your head underwater again.

You wish he knew the irony.

Still, while not being as good at fighting as Enola, you get out of his grip and run. Your sister finds you, stopping you as you catch your breath, "what's wrong? what happened?"

She gets her answer as the man comes around the corner. She puts you behind her.

She goes in for the fight. As you freeze.

She gets thrown against the wall, but as she recovers, she gives you a wink. She's got this.

She gives the same to the man, before getting back into the fight.

You then look back to the warehouse. The dynamite. You can use that as...an escape. Somehow, you haven't really thought that far ahead.

As if reading your mind, Enola lures him with the fight to a different one, as you go to the other.

You light the fuse.

Then. BOOM.

With the fireworks going off, you sprint out, Enola joining you as the two of you escape.

Later, you dry yourself off as Enola sits by the fireplace, trying to repair her stabbed dress.

You sit by her, "are you ok?"

She looks to you with a smile, "I'm ok."

You nod, but your smile isn't true. You look to the fire, guilt eating up at you.

Enola looks to you after a moment of silence, "you saved us, Y/N," she says, as if reading your mind, "maybe I am," ok, it's not getting creepy, "it is."

You chuckle. You silently, but still, it's a chuckle.

"I mean it," she waits until you look at her before she continues, "you did save us. You survived him, and bought us the time we needed. You did that."

You smile a true one this time. Yes, you did.

Enola's smile grows at this.

You both agree to save Tewksbury.

The two of you continue on your investigation. Dressing up as a grieving family.

It hurts Enola to have to use the wrong pronouns with you. But, you understand it's for a cover.

Still, it reminds you of the oppressive world you live in.

You let Enola climb up the treehouse, scared of heights yourself. But also because she'd be quicker.

You meet Tewksbury Grandmother, who calls you an 'odd little thing' at you not talking, only pointing up as she asks where your sister is.

Finally, you find him selling flowers. You give him your flower. He spins it, before looking at you thankfully, knowing what it means: you're on his side. Maybe even friends.

You take him back to where you and Enola are staying, but are interrupted by Lestrade.

You and Enola hold the door back. She tells him to run --

Then she looks to you, "you too, Y/N."

You shake your head. No way. You're not leaving your sister. Your best friend.

"Please," she begs, the door once again budging, "I need you to do this for me. I need you to be safe, ok? You can trust Tewksbury. Even if he is a stupid boy," she looks to the boy who is by the window. She sends him a silent request. One he nods at.

She looks back at you one more time, "I'll be sent to a school, that's all that will happen to me. I can't have that happen to you. You need to change the world with that mind of yours, Y/N. Please, please go."

While not wanting to, you do go.

Tewksbury is...well, to be honest, he's lost.

Both in where to go now, but also how to help you.

You're crying. But your facial expression hasn't changed. It's as if, although you're moving, you're frozen in time.

"It will be ok. We'll get through this," he hopes. But even he isn't sure.

"Where...do you know of anywhere we can go?" he asks.

After all, you are both only two frightened children, on the run from god knows how many people.

It takes a bit, but you end up going back to the campsite you made when you first got off the train.

Your face has changed now, going into one of stubbornness. You nudge him, gesturing if he has something to write on. He does, bringing out a crumpled bit of paper and pen. You write on it, giving it to him. Using the firelight, he reads it: "We can't leave her. It's not in our family's blood to just leave."

"I don't mean to be rude, but it does seem to be. With your...mother and brothers," he tries to say it as gently as he can.

You, however, shake your head. He gives you the tools again, and your scribble something else down, this time more harshly.

"Well, I'm going to change that," the words say.

He looks back at you, "how?" he asks.

He sees a spark in your eye.

He knows you have a plan.

Enola gets a box. Opening it, she holds back her scream as you jump out of it.

"Y/N?" she asks, in disbelief.

You nod, doing a little 'ta-da' pose.

She hugs you, tight.

"Oh, I never thought I'd see you again!" she says, cheered up now, as you both spin.

"What are you doing here?" she asks, quietly.

"Saving you," you sign.

"Y/N...I can't leave," she says, defeated.

You tap her on the shoulder, simply pointing from the box to her.

"Oh. Oh, you genius!" She says, giving you another hug. Hurriedly, she gets in.

People who catch you dragging her out, get tired of your sign language. While it stings, it does help get them out of the way.

Once out, you escape on Miss Harrison's bike.

You all go to the estate, ready to end this.

You are, once again, ambushed by the man from the train.

Enola shoves you into cover, trying to fight the man off. She is thrown on the floor.

Looking to Tewksbury, his target, and the armour you see around you, you nudge him, pointing to it and then back to him. When he goes to question what you mean, you run out of cover, letting out a whistle, gaining the other man's attention. He fires at you, just missing.

Enola, however, sees him reloading, and uses her jujitsu move on him to take him down.

Tewksbury's grandmother then comes out with a shotgun. Before either of you can react, Tewksbury is shot, hitting the floor. Enola cries out his name as you both run to him. She has tears running down her face, you are worried, but you are also praying.

Thankfully, that time you bought Tewksbury pays off as much as it did for Enola, he had used some armour from the suits to protect himself.

"You can thank Y/N for my survival," he says, sending a thankful look your way. You give him a smile and a hand squeeze.

As Enola and you help him up, you all knock your heads together.

You're all ok.

Your mother reveals herself to you after you both say goodbye to Tewksbury.

She hugs you both, "oh, my children. How you have grown."

"Y/N saved us more times than I can count."

"I knew they would."

"It took some encouraging."

"As anything does."

You tap them both, making them turn to you, "they are right here," you sign. They chuckle but also notice how you're using your pronouns now.

After having to say goodbye to your mother again, the two of you go out into the streets of London.

"Together?" your sister asks you, holding out her hand to you.

You nod, taking her hand.

You have your sister and yourself.

You know who you are now.

Just as she does.

Because your futures are up to you.

PART 2

[book-place]

The Thing About Love

Warnings: none (I think), let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Tewksbury x sister reader

Request: So, what about being Tewksbury's younger sister and teasing him about Enola??

Request by: @creative-girl

*not my gif*

Summary: It was really just a simple inquiry, but then again, your brother always was dramatic

A/N: I’m literally obsessed with Enola Holmes

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

“Brother,” You announced, striding into the sitting room, “I need to talk to you about love.”

Tewksbury’s head snapped up at that, “You’re not in love are you?” His eyes widened in horror at the thought.

You rolled your eyes impatiently, plopping down in a chair across from him, “No, of course not,” A sly smirk made its way onto your face, “But you are…”

He sputtered on air for a moment before choking out, “And wherever did you hear a thing like that?”

You shrugged, proudly stating, “I heard some of the maids whispering about it.”

A huff escaped from his lips as he tried to go back to whatever book he was reading, “It is none of their business, and nor is it yours.”

Your smirk widened as you leaned forward in your seat, “Does Miss Enola Holmes know that you love her?”

He snapped his book shut and glared at you, standing up, “That is none of your concern.” He was really starting to grow annoyed, something you loved to do to him.

You leaned back with a giggle, putting a hand over your mouth, “Oh, alright, don’t get all angry with me.” A snicker escaped your lips.

Groaning playfully, you skipped after him as he stomped out of the room, clearly leaving to try and get some peace and quiet.

“What happens in my life is not for you to know, especially not… that.” He threw a glare at you from over his shoulder.

Dramatically, you threw a hand over your heart, “Oh, how you wound me, brother!”

An idea sparked in your head as you both entered the gardens, him sitting down against a tree and opening his book once again, and a mischievous smirk took over your features.

You quickly shook it off and put your acting skills to the test, timidly walking over to your brother as you rubbed your hand up and down one of your arms.

“Brother?” You called out hesitantly, head trained to the ground, but eyes glancing up at him.

He turned his head up and opened his mouth to snap at you once more, but closed it when he saw the state you were in, “What is it?” He softened slightly.

It took every bit of willpower you had not to laugh at how geniuses your plan was.

“I… I really did want to ask you about love.” You replied, making sure to turn red a little bit at your words, “There’s… this boy.”

Once again, his book was slammed shut and he was on his feet quicker than you could blink.

“A boy?” He demanded, eyes holding a different kind of rage than you had ever seen before, “Who?”

You sighed dreamily for extra effect as you looked up to the sky, “Oh, just this boy I met at the market the other day. He really is the most wonderful boy I have ever met.”

“Who?” He seethed again, knuckles turning white from where he was gripping his book. Then, he began murmuring to himself, “Why, when I get my hands on him-“

That was when it became too much, you burst out in laughter, doubling over in the most un-ladylike fashion, even snorting a little bit.

“Oh, my!” You exclaimed, reaching up to wipe a tear, “You really should have seen your face, brother, I could hardly have hoped for such a reaction!”

He stood frozen for a moment before he realized you were making the whole thing up and he scowled, crossing his arms over his chest and beginning to once again sulk away.

“Oh, come now, brother!” You called after him in between giggles, “You must admit, that was comical!”

“It most certainly was not!” He snapped back.

You grinned and hurried along after him, “So, tell me more about you and Enola.”

Detectives 🕵️- none yet

[fandomtravelers]

Found family dynamics in shows

Okay I'm a sucker for found family dynamics in shows so I'm going to list all the found family or platonic relationships I know of. In TV shows/series. Just because :) ALSO please add if you know more, because I'm probably missing a whole lot. I JUST WANT MORE.

Here are the ones me and my friends know or have found (some might be father daughter centric and they're all from very random fandoms so excuse that) :

1. Kakashi & Team 7 (Naruto)

2. Anakin & Ahsoka & Obiwan (Clone wars. I know the whole star wars universe too, but I'm focusing on clone wars)

3. Kate Bishop & Clint Barton (Hawkeye)

4. Farah Dowling & Bloom (Fate : Winx)

4. Charming & Emma (Once Upon A Time)

5. Bay Kennish & Daphne Vasquez (Switched at Birth)

6. Cirilla & Geralt (The Witcher)

7. Calliope & Augie (tidelanders)

8. Byakuya & Rukia (Bleach)

9. Sara & Danny (Witchblade)

10. Georgia & Rube (Dead like me)

11. Silco & Jinx, Vander & Vi (Arcane)

12. Andrè & Jane (Painkiller Jane)

13. Jamie & Jonas & Jay (Bionic woman)

14. Dr. Tom & Erica (Being Erica)

15. The pines family (Gravity falls)

16. Tom & Cassie (the inbetween)

17. The Gaang & Team Avatar (Avatar the last Airbender & Legend of korra)

18. Kara & Clark (Supergirl & superman/batman apocalypse)

19. Charlie & Miles matheson (revolution)

20. Arthur & Joan & Auggie & Annie (Covert affairs)

21. Khlyen & Dutch (Killjoys)

22. Guerrero & Ames (Human Target)

23. Adam & Emma (Mutant X)

24. Nolan & Emily "Amanda" (Revenge)

25. Voight & his whole team (Chicago P. D.)

26. Elena & Jeremy (Bitten)

27. Jinggang & Chu hun (double world)

28. Hannibal & Abigail (Hannibal)

29. Dream & Death (The sandman)

30. Jiwoo & Mujin (My name)

31. Buffy & Giles (BTVS)

32. Benedict & his kids (Mysterious Benedict society)

33. The cullen family (twilight)

34. Elijah & Yo Han (the devil's judge)

35. Magnus & Clary (Shadow hunters)

36. Gu xiang & Wen Kexing (Word of honor (Cdrama))

37. Optimus & the human kids (Transformers prime)

38. Mildred & her teachers (Mainly miss hardbroom)

39. Dylan & Lizzie (instinct)

40. Marina & Arturo (A private affair)

41. Moiraine & Lan (Wheel of time)

42. the BAU team (Criminal minds)

43. The SVU team (Law & Order : SVU)

44. Ellie & Joel (TLOU)

45. Barbara & the batfam (Batgirl, batman comics)

46. Carmen & Shadow San (Carmen sandiego)

47. Nile & the rest of the old guard (the old guard)

48. Nick Fury & Maria Hill (secret invasion)

49. Jordan & Garrett (crossing Jordan)

50. America chavez & Doctor strange (Multiverse of Madness)

51. The Eternals (Eternals)

52. Enola & Sherlock (Enola Holmes)

53. NCIS team/family (NCIS)

54. Aizawa & his kids (BNHA)

55. Abigail & Ichabod (Sleepy Hollow)

56. Carol & Kamala (The Marvels)

57. Gojo & his students (JJK)

58. The golden trio (HP)

59. Ryan & Max (The following)

60. ICC team (crossing lines)

[michealdontleavemeher3]

Introduction post!!!!!!!

Heya I'm Micheal, and I write requests

I'm kinda new to this whole thing so don't expect masterpieces😔

(small note: it takes some time for me to write sometimes)

Here are the fandoms I'm in/write for

Marvel

G/t

The last of us (game and show)

Fnaf

Hunger games

Celebrities (as parental/sibling figures)

Dsmp (I'm not really educated on the lore so I might have to do some research

atsv

The Stanley parable

Hamilton

Saw

Enola Holmes

Barbie movie

Arcane

Alice in borderland

Stranger Things

Escape the night

Hunger games

The owl house

Thats about it for fandoms

And now for things I write

Platonic relationships

Parental figures

Sibling figures

Trans reader/oc

Queer reader/oc

Autistic reader/oc (im autistic)

Non verbal reader/oc

Heavy angst (with and without happy ending)

Any mental disorder (I might have to do some research if I'm not familiar with it)

Things I DONT write

Smutt

Romance

[glitchinginhyperfixis]

for those that are conflicted about enola holmes and lowkey shipped enola with whatever his name is (affectionate), consider: qpr

[lordystrange]

I watched both Enola Holmes movies and now I’m disappointed cause I thought Enola was a lesbian

She and Tewkesbury had such platonic Madwheeler chemistry

[oceanblueeyesoul]

Hi! Call me Aerith, may I request a romantic and platonic Enola Holmes matchup?

𝗦𝗘𝗫𝗨𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬/𝗣𝗥𝗢𝗡𝗢𝗨𝗡𝗦: Biromantic Pansexual and Genderfluid; He/They (though I'm biologically woman irl)

𝗔𝗣𝗣𝗘𝗔𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗘: 21 years old, 5'1.5", Southeast Asian. Chubby with messy shoulder length brunette hair, chocolate brown eyes, and a small beauty mark on my forehead. My style is in between soft grunge and soft punk (not a big fan of dress except for occasions) but loves to wear Korean makeup style

𝗣𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗔𝗟𝗜𝗧𝗬: Libra-Scorpio cusp, Muggleborn Ravenclaw with a patronous spirit of Hummingbird, an INFJ, my enneagram is 4w5 and my moral alignment is Neutral Good. I may have a slight introverted tendencies and awkward/anxious nature, I describe myself as fiery, swears like a sailor, confident, jokester, and, passionate. Religious, super talkative, sometimes hyper (because of excitement), giggly (I always laugh/snort for stupid reasons), nerdy, also sweet and nice though I can be aloof, intimidating, and scary when I get so angry. I tend to become really fiesty, stands boldly on what I believe (claiming myself as a realist though some of my views doesn't makes sense), unhinged to be myself, stubborn, young-at-heart, clumsy unfortunate and inattentive. Would don't give af towards the people that I hate, sarcasam and savagery is my main language. But on the other side, I overthink a lot and cry over small things many times which I sound like a drama queen, and a perfectionist that provokes even more, yet recognizes a soft spot for dumb jokes, cheesy pickup lines and prefer people with a good sense of humour who see myself as equal. Chill in academics, but very competitive that manages to the top even for my dreams---I'm very dedicated on what I want for my life, and I display modesty and gracefulness towards some people that deserves respect. One notable feature about her is her multi-potentiality due to being naturally gifted in artistic fields (this includes singing).

𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦/𝗜𝗡𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦: Arts, choir, poetry, karaoke, literature, history, makeup, beauty pageants, fun/deep/dumb conversations, expanding my knowledge in Christianity, documentaries (about saints), reading interesting stuffs, talking about social issues, and creative writing, chilling both indoors and outdoors

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘𝗦: Stereotyping, obligation (without a logical reason), getting excluded, being interrupted, invalidating my feelings, judgemental people, telenovelas, hypocrites, dirty bathrooms, blackout, lightning, firecrackers, toads, snakes, cockroaches, toxic masculinity, misogyny, fake woke individuals, colonial mentality, and absurdly girly things

𝗛𝗢𝗕𝗕𝗜𝗘𝗦: Drawing, singing, dancing when nobody's around (I'm very bad at it), sharing nerdy or opinionated thoughts, walking like a model (if I ever feel so confident), sleeping, listening to music (from rock to kpop), chatting or browsing on social media, watching videos on YouTube, making terrible jokes/puns, watching cartoons, writing, cooking, reading interesting things, and conceptualizing my artworks. I also used to study Italian language a bit

(P.S. I almost forgot to mention I want platonic and romantic matchup 😅)

Thank Aerith, for the platonic and romantic ships and you sounded like an awesome person!

Your platonic Enola Holmes ship is... LORD TEWKESBURY!

He would like your intelligence about things that he didn't know about until now and he would like to teach you about flowers.

He would tease you playfully about you liking beauty pageants while also knowing that you don't like girly things.

He would be so supportive for you about proving someone else wrong by your feistiness.

ISFP and INFJ buddies!

Ravenclaw and Ravenclaw artistic friends!

Your romantic Enola Holmes matchup is...

ENOLA HOLMES!

Finally, she meets someone who can challenge her intelligence! So what if you have slightly introverted tendencies she will be talking to people for you.

Enola will research for you about the things you're passionate about to make you happy and besides she likes to learn new things.

You brings out the silly and non-serious side to Enola that no one has before you two will be singing and dancing till you heart contains.

Enola Holmes is the feminist icon so of course she will be supporting you through talking about social issues and justice.

ENFP x INFJ social justice seeking power couple!

Ravenclaw x Gryffindor intellectual sweethearts!

[vole-mon-amour]

So Sherlock x Enola tag is still empty. After two movies. Siiiigh.

[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)

[badbatchlover99]

What the Bad Batchers kids would be like!!

(a short collection of characters to keep my mind off my current WIP)

Disclaimer!! There is no ‘timeline’ per se, just ages. You be the judge.

Markus: 

the son of Tech and Phee (sorry, I had to!). 

He is 16 years of age and the epitome of the best of both worlds. 

He is very intelligent, and adventurous. He also has a strange love of geology, but we won’t get into that. 

He is generally quite bashful like his father but leans a little more towards extrovert like his mother.

 One of those kids who really prefers to stay out of trouble at all costs, but then surprises you with lock-picking skills or something. (still working on him. Will probably add more later)

Leonié (or as preferred, Leo): 

the daughter of Crosshair (I had too much fun with this one.

 She is 14 years old and was… not meant to happen, but here she is. 

She lived with her mother until she was eight (mainly because Crosshair didn’t know she existed) but now she lives with her father and the rest of the bad batch. 

She is very monotone, yet sassy like her father, and (though she’d never admit it) wants more than anything to be just like him. 

She is an ambivert with the social battery of an Android phone.

She looks just like Crosshair but with some… obvious differences.

She is a troublemaker, but not the normal kind. She’s the kind that will go days acting like an angel, and then one day, there’s Suran wrap on all the toilet seats, which distracts you from her sneaking out to go get piercings and a tattoo. Yeah.

Is, as the writer of Enola Holmes said, prone to melancholy (aka she’s a smidge bipolar).

Buck (shut up, I know it’s a dumb name)

Is Hunter’s son (I ship Fennter, but we’re not getting into that right now)

He is 13 years old, and a scrappy little kiddo.

He definitely inherited Hunter’s shortness and gets into regular arguments with Leo about it.

And yes, he and Leo are the “you're an idiot, said with (platonic) love” duo.

He is an extrovert and very curious. Loves to see all the different cultures of planets.

Also inherited his father’s fabulous hair

Usually stays out of trouble, but… things happen.

Scout:

Wrecker’s (adopted) son.

8 years old.

Wrecker found him on the planet equivalent to Scotland (don’t ask) as an infant, and was immediately like “This child is mine now.”

He is very high-energy. All.the.time!

Is the kind of kid that is always accidentally getting into trouble, and it’s cute for some reason.

Extrovert. No way around it. 

Want’s to try everything, meet everyone, do everything, eat every food, all at the same time type of energy.

Please leave comments, I'm new to all this and wold love feedback!!!

[jamiedc-they-them]

Being Enola Holmes' sibling - Part II

In honour of Enola Holmes 2 releasing, and being amazing! I thought I'd do a part II. Spoilers, ahead!

This is (much longer - in fact, the most extended piece I have ever written for these fics! - than the first one, which was more a set of a sequel to part I of my first Enola Holmes fic, which you can find in my master list. Y/N is nb, just for a note. Enjoy!!!

PART 1

Almost right after your big break with the Tewksbury case, you followed Enola, looking at her smile as she handed the name of the new agency she was making in the first name of you both. Part of you was proud yourself. Don’t get it wrong, this was a big thing. It meant a lot. A first step into a truly new world; and the excitement your sister had did rub off on you too.

But, there was a part of you that felt…alone? Ironic, given Enola’s name. But, that was the only word you could put to it.

You didn’t really have much time to relax after the case, given that the money you got wasn’t infinite, it would run out a some point, and you’d need that money for both where you lived and to run the agency.

So, it opened. The nerves inside you made you tell Enola you’d go out for a walk. She nodded, smiling a small one in understanding, just hoping you’d stay safe.

You knew you would be.

The place you went to had a nice view. Luckily, the bench you went to was unoccupied, it helped your nerves a bit.

You sat down, taking a long breath and closing your eyes, letting the ambience of the place take you. The ideas it sprung in your head. The stories you could tell, if only you had the time to –

A voice coughing to gain your attention did its job. You opened your eyes, looking up at the person who did it with wide eyes for a moment, but they then softened.

Tewksbury, the friend that you had saved, was the one to get your attention.

“How have you been?” he asked.

He gestured to the bench, and you shuffled a bit to let him sit. When he was comfy, you nodded with a smile and pointed a finger back at him.

“I am well, too. Thank you,” he said, “how has Enola been?”

You were no Enola, you were no detective. Or, at least, not at her level. But, emotions you were always good at. You saw a sparkle in your friend’s eye when he asked about your sister.

“She’s well,” you signed. Tewksbury watched your hands carefully, seemed he was getting lessons. Your heart swelled a bit at his attempt to follow with your main way of communication. At least one that might be for only a bit longer.

Although, you did see him struggle a bit. So, you tried a different tactic.

“Opened a Detective agency,” you said aloud.

His eyes widened a bit at hearing your voice for the first time. Your voice was not as posh as Enola’s was. He nodded, that sparkle still there.

“That’s good. Is business well?”

You shrugged, “not sure,” he read from your notepad after you finished writing on it, “I left before I met anyone…just nervous.”

He gave you back the notepad, “that’s understandable,” he sympathised, “we all have different parts to us. Different paths.”

You nodded, looking back out at the water as you sighed, “I don’t want to leave Enola behind,” you admitted, words soft.

Tewksbury himself looked back to the water as he thought about his response, “you wouldn’t be,” he said, “she’d understand. I know she would,” he gave you a smile, before getting up from his seat, “I must be off, I’m afraid.”

You got up yourself, holding out your hand, “until next time, Lord Tewksbury.”

He shook your hand, “Until next time, Y/N Holmes.”

You both departed.

When you arrived in, Enola was gone. Gone where, you did not know. But, one thing you did notice, was that everything she placed were in the same place as where she left it last.

The door then opened, and she appeared. She gave you a smile, “sorry, had to pop out,” she said, putting her jacket on the hook and giving you a hug, “did your walk help?”

You tapped her twice on the back: a question.

“With your stories,” she clarified. You pulled out of the hug, but she still held your arms, “I do know you a little,” she says, in a joking tone.

You smiled at it. You nodded, “yes.”

She nodded, “good,” she said. Her smile dimmed a bit looking at the seeming lack of progress she had herself.

“Well,” she said trying to be optimistic, “there’s always tomorrow, right?”

“There is,” you say, trying to keep that optimism going.

You both then retired to your separate bedrooms for the night.

 That tomorrow you and Enola had tried to envision – even if you were sure it was askew slightly to each other’s version of it – did not come to pass. Well, people came in, for sure. But, they just wanted Sherlock. You were either too young, or they called her gender into question. They said you didn’t look the smart type, Enola’s glare made that person leave quick.

You had some stories that sold over the months. That kept you going for a bit. But, soon the reality caught up with you; the money ran out, your ideas ran dry, and Enola had no case.

Enola called it a failure, you called it an “attempt well done,” which did make her smile appreciatively.

“I’ve always appreciated your positivity, Y/N,” she said, packing her own case for the journey, “thank you for sticking with me. I know it didn’t exactly live up to what we wanted it to.”

You clipped your case shut, and turned to her, “I’m always going to be by your side, Enola. No matter what.”

“As am I,” she assured.

At least you had each other.

As she tried to find something on the floor, the door opened. She climbed up, you turned and gave a tight lipped smile to your new acquaintance. A young girl.

Enola leant one way, the girl went the other. Same on the second attempt. You shut the lid gently, Enola going red in embarrassment of not trying that first. The girl gave you a thankful look.

“Enola and Y/N Holmes?” the girl asked. Her accent was a thick London one.

“Yes?” Enola said, glee in her eyes at this maybe being something. Something to keep you both in London. Although the difference of Enola’s posh one vs the girl’s one was stark. Still, the hope in the girl’s voice and soft hope in Enola’s seemed to find some common ground.

“I’ve come to the right place, then. Is it true you find lost people?” the girl asked, handing your sister a piece of paper. You went around the desk, Enola holding it so you both could see it. It was a ripped piece of newspaper. One with the advertisement in. It was ripped poorly. There seemed to be a story there.

Enola looked to you, seeing your eyebrows furrow as you looked at the newspaper. She knew that look; you were trying to put together that story.

“Where did you get this?” Enola asked, letting you do your own investigation, “it’s months old.”

“I found it on the street.”

You looked back to the girl, Enola sharing your gentle eyes as she asked the question softly, “who have you lost?”

There was a small pause before the girl answered. As if bracing herself for it, “my sister,” she said.

Enola stilled, looking off to…you weren’t quite sure what. She had moments like this, where she’d space out. Sometimes she’d talk out loud. It was to no one; and to be honest, it unnerved you a bit.

She then looked back to you. You could see the thoughts running through her head, just as she could yours.

This girl had lost her sister. Just like either of you could’ve lost the other at any point.

It pained you both. Just the mere thought. This poor girl had to live it.

You followed the girl as she led you back to hers. The journey took you to the docks, the low end area. Cobble road streets that had seen better days. Boards giving you access to other areas.

“Watch the step,” the girl warned as you all hopped board after board to pass the water. Enola nearly fell, but your hand was there, grabbing her arm as you grabbed a post, helping steady herself.

You weren’t as lucky when you slipped and fell in.

“Y/N!” Enola called as you rose up, climbing onto shore, “are you alright?”

“Cold,” was your blunt and short answer. She nodded.

“We’ll be in soon. Don’t worry,” the girl assured you, continuing to lead you when you nodded for the go ahead, “she disappeared a week ago,” she informed, Enola and you clocking a poster that read ‘TYPHUS KILLS.’

“Everyone says she’s run away, but Sarah wouldn’t do that, not to me,” she was sure. As you continued, Enola holding the girl’s hand, you saw an older woman, laying on the floor coughing. You wanted to help, but Enola grabbed your hand, gently squeezing it; ‘not now’ it said.

“She’s my only family now,” the girl finished. Enola felt your hand tighten on hers. Those words struck a cord.

She led you into a house. It looked cramped. Run down. Some of the wallpaper was missing. Enola paused, looking at a bed at the bottom of the stairs. Words being exchanged upstairs drew your gaze, but you couldn’t see who it was.

“The other girls are still at work,” the younger girl said as you entered a larger room. Candle chandelier showing the room with a table, a table, some chairs, a bookshelf, and a single bed.

“Tea?” she offered.

“Thank you,” Enola said, knowing you’d want one as well. The girl pouring your drinks. You start to look around the room, guessing it would be the place you needed to be in.

Enola, however, asked, “might we see her bedroom?”

“Ours, you mean?” Enola looked confused. You continued looking around, already having made the guess yourself. You didn’t hold it against your sister; you were both raised differently and never saw people in the poorer states of life.

“You’re standing in it,” the girl supplied. Enola looked at the room in a new light. Finally looking to the single bed.

“We’re lucky. Most girls here are five to a room,” the girl said as she blew out a match for the lantern on the table. She gave it to Enola, “this might help,” Enola sent a smile as she took it.

That smile then died as she yelped. You spun around, seeing a mouse run out of the room.

“Oh. Sarah likes to leave cheese out for ‘em,” Enola and you followed the girl’s knock of her head to see some cheese on the floor, a bit eaten out of it, but still there.

“She’s soft,” Enola looked to you as you cocked your head and still looked at the cheese. You both were, but she knew you had that in spades.

“What does she look like, Sarah?” Enola asked, getting out her own notepad. You stood by her, turning yours to a new page.

“About this tall,” the younger girl said, putting her hand up fairly high, “pretty. Very pretty. Green eyes, red hair, freckles –” she explained.

“Red hair?” Enola questioned. You paused your attempt at drawing what the girl may of looked like.

“We weren’t sisters in the usual way,” she said. You smiled, now even more wanting to help this girl.

“Found sisters,” a new voice said. You all looked over, seeing an older girl, a bit older than you both, “Sarah took her in,” she said, tone unfriendly, “who’re they, Bess?”

Enola moved forward, as you stuck your tongue out, too lost in your attempt at drawing, “Enola and Y/N Holmes,” she said on your behalf, holding her hand out.

“They’re detectives,” Bess said.

“They both look like they’d blow over in the wind,” was the retort from the newcomer.

“Mae!” Bess reprimanded.

“So, Bessie, what was Sarah wearing the day she disappeared?” Enola asked, knowing that you’d be listening for the details you could both note down and try to draw.

She saw that Mae was looking at you suspiciously, eyes narrowed a bit.

“What’s she doing?” Mae asked, seeing Enola lightly touch one of Sarah’s items of clothing.

“Shh,” was all Bess said.

“They’re both wasting their time,” Mae said, “the other one’s over there, drawin’. Not much’ll come out of that,”

“You’d be surprised,” Enola said softly as she concentrated, “on what they can sometimes put together if you give them the pieces.”

Mae’s gaze went to you for a moment, but you’re just looking at Bess attentively. Patiently too.

“It was her other dress, the green one,” Bess said. You went back to your notepad as Enola continued exploring.

“Reading?” you say, pointing to the books.

“Oh, yes. She taught herself. Sarah said you had to learn about the world if you’re gonna live in it.”

Your mother said a similar thing. And you did, to a degree. But not as much as you needed, you would’ve argued. You still loved your mother dearly, however.

Enola looked to you, seeing some smudges of something pink on your finger. She looked into the drawer. Ah, so you had found something earlier. She picked it up, a piece of lipstick.

“Did she have a suitor?” She asked.

Apparently some took an interest. You wrote that down, possible motive and all.

As for the plants, apparently – despite one of them being very much alive – was not her forte, given the second one being dead.

“Look, how about you both quit sniffing ‘round?” Mae demanded.

Bess just told her to be quiet.

Enola looked to the fireplace, seeing ashes there, and a finger print. You tapped her on the back. She turned, and you held out a note you had found. She took it, looking at the date. The 12th March was the date. When enquired if it meant anything to Bess, Mae broke in, “that’s enough. We don’t need help from people like you.”

Well, that was blunt.

“I found them, so they’re staying,” Bess argued. Enola and you just looked between the two, not wanting to get involved, despite being the subjects.

Mae didn’t answer. She just looked at you both one more time, before departing herself.

Enola continued her lead of the note, you clocked Bess going into her pockets. Maybe you or Enola should get pockets like that, be useful for holding more items.

Apparently, Sarah worked two jobs, and gave you a name: “The Stag Antlers.” She then tried to offer you both the coin, but you both declined. She needed it far more than you both.

And the last time she’d seen her? A week ago, at the match factory. She’d had a fight with the Forman, Mr Crouch, in his office. According to the man, she was stealing. Bess vouched for Sarah, however.

After confirming to Bess you’d take the case, you were both hugged with the biggest one you’d ever received. You looked to Enola, she could see the softness in your eye, and the appreciation for taking this. To at least try and help.

You both agreed that she’d go the factory, and you’d draw up your own ideas on your own at home. That was the difference between you and Enola, however; while she wasn’t Sherlock in terms of being cold, she did look at those cases factually. You didn’t. Emotions ran you. Not logic. You were never good at that part. At least, not at all times.

So, it was fair to say you had about 55 million ideas as to what had happened to Sarah. You had even made a note board. Maybe you were destined for this detective life after all. You were sure your older brother had one, given his newest case being a spot of bother for him.

You were squinting at the board with barely anything on, when Enola quickly ran in.

“Y/N, I need you for something,” she said, grabbing your hand. When she turned and tried to leave, you didn’t move. Still stuck in your own world.

She clicked in front of your face, making you startle and come back to reality, “sorry,” she said, “but I need you.”

So, off you were again.

You were following Mae. You were leading it this time. With all your time out exploring London, you seemed to have a knack for hiding when the need arose.

“…but in truth, there’s only one,” Enola said as she followed you and Mae. You pulled her out of the way so she wouldn’t hit someone as she spoke to…well, whatever or whoever it was, once again.

“She’s a loose thread…” Enola and you hid behind a wagon. She looked behind again, eyes focused.

You both continue following Mae, “where is it you go?” you asked.

“Pardon?” She questioned, the two of you mingling with the crowd when Mae turned yet again.

“The things you say to thin air,” you clarified as you both saw Mae turn a corner, “the distant looks.”

“Ah, that…” she said, unsure of how to explain it.

That look appeared once again.

When, in her experience, she’s talking – to well, us – “they still can’t see you. Not yet. I’m hoping they will soon. I used to call you my ‘imaginary friend’ when we were younger. But, they’re catching on now, which is good. There is hope, still. I think they need that confidant to talk to, other than myself,” she smiled lightly, “you’ll see. I know they’ll get there.”

She turned back to you, “I will explain. I will. I promise. Just like you promised you’d find Dash when he went missing.”

You narrowed your eyes as you took a quick glance back to Mae to see her enter a pub – by the look of the thing, anyway – “but I did find Dash.”

“I know you did,” she said, “which is why I’m making my promise based on that experience. Now,” she pointed to where she too saw Mae go, “shall we?”

It was lively, to say the least. Packed too. It was like one thing you hated about London shoved into this place. Granted, the people were happy, and you were glad at that, at least. But still, far too many for your liking.

“We’ll be quick,” Enola assured as she gave a man who held a clipboard some money to be let in.

You nudged Enola, pointing to some people playing violin.

“A show,” she said.

“What’d you bet she’s here in it?” you signed to her. She considered it, then you both looked to the stage as the show started.

And there she was.

You and Enola knew your next move; get backstage. You both looked at each other, hands closed in a fist. You did quick rounds of “rock, paper, scissors,” with you being victorious.

“How do you always win?” Enola complained. You just tapped your head, making your way to the door, before she grabbed your hand.

“Be careful?” was all she asked. You nodded, tapping her hand; “you too,” the message was.

You both then parted. You finding it surprisingly easy to get in. Well, the packed place worked wonders after all.

You made your way in, looking around at the place. People running everywhere. Desperately trying to have it all go smoothly. Seemed, despite how it seemed on stage, behind the scenes it was a mess of people barely holding it together.

You found something, at least. The same lipstick you found before. As you turned, however, you found yourself pinned against a pole with a knife to your neck. Mae.

“You got five seconds to tell me why you’re here,” she said.

You put your hands up, before gesturing them to your pockets. She looked at them, then back at you, and watched you carefully as you lowered them, taking out the notepad. You flicked to the page you needed, giving her a shaky smile of an apology as you knew you were over the limit of five seconds. Still, you found what you needed, and showed it to her. You tapped on the part she needed to see; the part about the bar job. It was a lie.

You then tapped on another name; Bessie.

“There’s plenty Bessie don’t know. And plenty you don’t need to tell her,” at that, you shook your head. You wouldn’t.

You held up a finger as you went through more pages, before tapping once again on the important part. Enola had filled you in on what she found at the Match factory. Sarah had stolen some pages, the only question was why. You then tapped once again on a name; Sarah.

Mae understood your question.

“Just leave us be, alright? Posh people like you don’t belong in this fight.”

Ah, you realised, so there was something going on.

Despite not being a full fighter like Enola. She had taught you some things in the months of your time in London. Now was the real test.

It was a quick switch, bending an arm. But it ended up with you holding the knife to Mae’s throat. It was then removed, however, as you gave the knife back, “fighting, I can just about do. Was she hiding something?”

“So, you do speak. You’ve got more to you than I thought.”

A throat cleared, as Mae massaged her throat and took the knife back, Mae was needed on stage soon and was still dressed as a lad.

Mae looked to you, that angry look there once again, this time a sparkle to it. A hint of amusement, “get ‘em out of here,” was all she asked of the manager. She then showed you the knife, a fake. A spring one for the stage.

Fine, if it wasn’t going to work out with Mae, you were gonna try something else.

You bribed your way to Sarah’s makeup chair. Full of secrets, apparently. No kidding, you thought. She attracted the men with big pockets, and that – along with being a good actress – made her stay.

You paid him once again to find out which men in particular. One guy, society type, regular, apparently.

You looked at the box on the table. Enola wasn’t here, she was in the crowd. But, if she was, what would she have done? You thought.

So, you moved your hand around the box as the man continued to explain. She was keen on him. He’d send things; flowers, letters.

You heard a click as you went under the compartment. It was one of those secrets Sarah held onto. In it was a letter. From the mystery man, most likely.

Once again, you paid the man to try find the identity. Only one problem –

“Never gave one,” the manager said, “you see, they all think there’s hope. That love is coming their way. But it never is. Blokes like that, they want cheap, but they marry dear,” the man said as you left.

Wonderful.

You couldn’t find Enola at first in the crowd. Managing to put down that feeling you had in this crowd for a moment, you asked someone if they had seen her. They said she’d gone outside.

Going to that very place, out those doors and back into fresh air, there she was. Arms crossed and waiting.

She turned, as if knowing you were there, “thank goodness,” she said, relieved, “did you find anything?”

You held up the letter, “just one thing. And lost some money,” you admitted.

“It’s alright,” she assured, “now, the letter?” you opened it, the two of you started to walk. On it was a poem and a poppy.

Enola and you rolled your eyes at the love part of the poem.

“As we two ate of the fruit of love. A bell did ring in the sky above. So wander that place with its blossoms white. A chapel awaits us out of sight,” she read.

“Do you think that’s his name?” Enola asked you.

“Could be.”

Now there were more questions. Why did she leave? Did she run away with the man? Or was she running from him?

“I hope it’s the latter. His poetry is extremely bad,” you heard all of it, for once. You heard all of what she said. As you looked to where she had, however, you saw that there was…something, there.

You guessed this was the imaginary friend she’d talked about before. Only now, not so imaginary.

The two of you then started on your walk home, not hearing the walking stick clangs behind you…

At least, not at first. It took a bit, but you heard it once again. How it rang out. Looking back, no one else was there.

“Y/N?” Enola said, pausing when you did as well.

“Someone’s here. Can’t you hear it?” you asked her.

She listened closer, “I can,” she confirmed.

You went on a bit more, before turning once again. Nothing.

She tapped you three times on the arm; “hurry up,” was that message for you both.

So, you did.

With that adrenaline, you both crossed the street, having more added to it when you were reminded just how dangerous the streets of London were when a carriage nearly hit you both.

Then you found someone you didn’t expect to, Sherlock.

“Enola? Y/N?” he said, drunkenly, “what are you both doing here? It’s not safe,” you rolled your eyes, “there are scary people about.”

“Yes, let me know when you meet one.”

It was a long night, for sure. You ended up getting Sherlock back home, after his ‘disagreement over a glass of wine’ and his lecture about stairs and being stepped on. You hung back up the stairs, going to be there if one of the fell. No one did, luckily. Still, you doubted your abilities to actually stop their falls.

He told you not to touch anything in his acclaimed room. You both ignored him, however. You read over the notes to his case, on a board bigger than your own with a map of London and notes all around.

The lines were gibberish to you both.

Sherlock was, lets say, not the most pleased the next morning.

“This is why I don’t have people in my rooms. Look what you both have done,” he said, trying to work through his hangover and be the…brother? You weren’t quite sure what role he was trying to play here, to be honest, “my papers are entirely out of order,” he tried to rearrange them, before stepping back up.

Sherlock denied your offers to help, and did what made him known in the first place; he read you both like a book. He detected things. He knew Enola was in the match factory. The nails gave it away.

He moved onto you, but paused, “your neck is red,” he said. Enola spun around, looking to you as you subconsciously put a hand on it, “someone has gripped it or held a knife against…” he paused. Enola’s face fell. You cleared your throat.

“Are either of you involved in something dangerous? Because you are both still my wards. If you need my help, my offer remains on the table. Don’t be so desperate to prove yourselves.”

You scoffed, “you just rejected ours. Besides, I got out of it.”

“But you might not have if –”

“But I did,” you said, again, “Enola’s training helped me.”

“So, you required her help, then?” he had you there.

“Y/N and I don’t need your or anyone’s help,” despite having said that, she did take the food he offered, and waited for you by the door.

“Y/N,” Sherlock called out as you approached her. You shut your eyes and sighed. She gave you a nod, leaving the room and waiting for you outside. Giving you the space to talk to your brother.

You wordlessly turned to Sherlock, “if you don’t think this is the path you should walk,” he said, “then Enola will understand.”

“I can’t…” you pause, the words not being able to be spoken. So, instead, you pulled out your notebook and wrote them, showing them to him, “I can’t just leave her. She needs me.”

“More than you’ll ever know,” he admitted, before passing the notebook back to you, “but you can still help her and not get hurt in the process.”

“But I’m still here,” you argued.

“Barely,” he said, a bit firmer this time.

You looked at him in confusion, cocking your head to the side like a dog.

He sighed before continuing, “this world needs that head of yours, Y/N. I read your work, and while I think it needs work, there is a talent there. A talent you can hone by not doing this.”

“It is better I, than her, hurt. She can solve it, I can help –” that’s all he read before he responded.

“And I need you alive!” you backed up a bit at his shout. Even Enola looked up to the open window in concern.

He softened his voice as he spoke, “you’re my Wards. And you are my…” siblings, it was on the tip of his tongue. The word wouldn’t leave him, however.

“Now whose being emotional?” you threw back at him, before leaving, wiping at the tears on your face.

There was a rage in Enola’s eyes when she saw you that you had never seen before. You were just glad she was on your side.

Interestingly enough, she took you to the bench you’d go to on your walks out. It was nice, the familiar.

Seemed you were in it too with Enola. Instead of the tree, it was now a bench. How civilised.

She ranted to this new friend you both seemingly had, as she ate. She broke half of it off for you. You weren’t exactly in the eating mood. She was, however. The crumbs went everywhere. Your face scrunched up at them as you swatted them away. She didn’t pay it any mind, however, just continuing the rant about Sherlock’s room, his case.

Her own case of ranting paused when an old friend came knocking. Tewksbury. It was awkward, it was very awkward.

Even with you, he was. Must’ve been your state, that gentle look in his eye turning to concern when he looked to you. You just gave him a tight-lipped smile, not exactly a great start to the day. You’d had better.

You looked to Enola’s imaginary friend. You still didn’t know what it was. But, it seemed almost welcoming. You narrowed your eyes at it. Right now, however, it seemed more interested in Enola. You looked away, zoning back in on the conversation between your two friends; a bit jealous, to be honest.

Enola revealed she’d seen all of his doing. You looked to your new friend, hoping no one else saw you as you facepalmed at it. Seemed no one did. Good. Felt almost liberating, to be honest, that no one saw you action.

He’d even written to her. Ah, so those were the letters she’d packed. She’d never told you what they were.

Tewksbury, the kind friend he was, did offer his help. But, it was declined. Which was fair, he was a Lord, and he’d almost died once. He had more things to keep on eye on this time than survival, or you two.

You didn’t want to burden him.

“Is he looking back?” Enola whispered to the object. You watched your sister oddly. Why would that matter?

You both looked back, he wasn’t.

That seemed a relief to her.

Then the overexplaining came in.

“I don’t come here every day. Just on days when I feel a need…And sometimes he doesn’t take this path –“

“Yes, he does,” you filled in. You felt a bit smug, feeling your sister’s glare on you.

“He doesn’t,” she assured it, “sometimes he takes a parallel one –“

You coughed, but she knew you were saying something under your breath. She hit you in the side, making you cough a lot.

You sort of wished you just saw her phase out for a moment, if you were honest.

Still, it got you somewhere.

You know where to find me. Tewksbury had said that.

The poem was a cipher. No wonder it was bad poetry.

The two of you found different sections.

You had an address: 28 Bell Place, Whitechapel.

She let out a squeal, one that surprised even you. One she had to quieten down when a mother shushed her as her child cried.

You and Enola got up, “the game has found its feet again,” she declared, as you both walked off, arm in arm to your destination.

“What does that even mean, ‘again’?”

“Nothing.”

“No it’s not.”

“It is.”

“Is not.”

“Is.

“Isn’t.”

“Will we do this the whole way there, my dear sibling?”

“We shall,” you confirmed.

She just sighed.

The plan was simple; reunite Bessie with her sister once again, your names would be known, a job well done…

The door was open. Ah. Bugger.

Carefully, with her leading the way, you made your way up, swatting away any insects that flew by.

There were signs of a fight. But Enola found a brush with Red hair. Just like the factory. Sarah had been there.

You tapped Enola’s arm, but she was looking at the hair, so you ran over to where Mae was. She was dying. You put your hands over the wound, it only got yourself bloody too.

As Enola, oblivious to this, continued to explore. You hit your foot on the floor, Mae gasped. Seemed you both had the same idea there.

Enola spun around, letting out her own gasp at seeing the situation.

You were both panicked; in her last moments, Mae moved down to her pocket. The deep ones like Bessie had.

Taking breaths to try calm yourself, even just a little, you put your hand into the pocket.

“What are you – what are you doing? Y/N” Enola asked, still shaken by what had happened. You’d witnessed a death. And you were covered in that person’s blood.

There was a piano piece: “The truth of the Gods” it was named.

A door creaking made you both jump, you hid the letter up your sleave. God you wished you had those long pockets.

Lestrade. The very same man who caught Enola last time, now acted more as a friend.

You just kept your eyes on the man as Enola tried to explain the situation.

Lestrade – in a way, almost rightfully, almost, as in like a slither of a chance, given the circumstances – thought that you two had done it.

As Enola continued to clear up the facts and your names, then clanging was heard again.

You looked to Enola, she nodded. She recognised it too.

The door was knocked open by the cane. His name was Superintendent Grail. He wasn’t all that impressed by there being more Holmes detectives.

“Good god, more?” he asked, exasperated. At least, you thought so, anyway.

Turned out, Grail was looking for Sarah too. On charges of theft and blackmail.

Grail was like Lestrade, only less able to be talked down. Words couldn’t leave you. In fact, all went quiet. All you heard was your heartbeat. It was loud, and it was fast.

Enola turned to Lestrade, you didn’t know why. But Enola tapped you on the arm, pointing to him. You followed, but she felt your pulse for a moment, it was skyrocketing.

She gave Grail her purse. You, for all your effort of hiding, the letter. Or, he seemed to ask for it anyway. Enola took it out of your grip, knowing the internal situation you were in.

He got loud; Enola backed into you a bit.

Your heartbeat got even faster. It was do or die now. Go to jail, or run.

You picked run. Enola hit Grail in a part that you shan’t name. And you ran. Booting the door to stop more officers from getting in.

You didn’t even think, you just did. You went onto the roof just like Enola, falling with less grace than her. She helped you up, and off you went.

You went into different parts of the crowd. You didn’t bother saying sorry, as you knew the chase part would give all the context you needed.

You were then in an alleyway. No way out. At least, not at first.

You tapped Enola’s arm four times: “trust me?” it asked.

She stamped her foot on the ground twice: “yes,” was the answer.

You went first, reaching a pipe and climbing up, Enola following after you. You kicked your foot into the horizontal part of the pipe, it swinging down and hitting another officer as Enola kicked one and climbed up after you.

Both on the roof, after helping her up, you knew your next moves. Your own fear of heights be damned, this was an emergency. You could let all the fear hit you later.

As you went across, Enola slips, you reached for her, only to miss and nearly fall yourself. She grabbed onto a pipe, “I’m alright, Y/N!” she called, “keep going! I’ll meet you at Sherlocks!” she knew you hadn’t move, “I promise. Dash promise.”

She still hadn’t paid off the first one, but it was enough to get you to move.

You reached the other entrance first, via the chimney. Enola joined you a few moments, and gave you a smile. You gave it back, but it became puzzled via her outfit. You both then held your breath as you heard Lestrade talking to Sherlock. Finally, the right chimney. The others were a bit awkward.

Sherlock, seemingly who had a six sense – no wonder he made it in the detective world – opened up his board and out you came. For once, it was you who was more graceful than Enola, who fell right down.

“My mistake. I should have warned you I was opening it,” so he wasn’t completely inhumane. He had a sense of humour. You were sure of that of your brother anyway, but it helped to know. Sherlock offered Enola assistance up, but it was rejected. She straightened out her new clothes.

“Dare I ask?” The look Enola to your imaginary friend was all you needed to know. No, was the answer.

To him at least, anyway.

“I think it fits you,” you said.

She turned to you, “thank you, Y/N.”

“How much did it cost us?”

“Not too much. Not to worry.”

You nodded, knowing similar was said to when you some, probably, when you needed answers.

“Never mind. Tell me everything.”

She tried to steer it to Sherlock’s case, one he moved off of instantly. You had heard a lot after all.

Enola’s impression of Lestrade was good, you gave her that.

“He’s a ninny. I needed to know what he had on you.”

Enola and you looked to him with pleading looks.

“Money,” he conceded, “unaccounted transfers going in and out of government offices,” you both turned to the board, “my theory is either bribery, extortion, or blackmail.”

“Or all of the above,” you suggested.

“It very well good be,” Sherlock admitted.

He continued. There were separate filings for five different accounts all going from the Treasury into one private bank.

Someone was getting rich off this.

You didn’t want the extortionate – ha – amount of wealth that some people had, just enough to live and try help those who couldn’t.

No name was to this person, however. Just a number. The money had disappeared when Sherlock went to the bank to inquire. It went to another bank, then another. And on and on the movement went. Each one with different numbers. 27 in total.

“Commitment,” you commented.

“Very much so,” Enola agreed, “what can you deduce from that?” she asked your older brother.

“Three things,” he said, “firstly, the man’s a game player, a perhaps a genius in mathematics, capable of covering his traces at every turn. Secondly,” Enola and you lifted up another finger, trying to keep all this information together, “the sources are varied. Five banks, south of the river, but no clear link between them. All anonymous.  All going into one pocket.”

“And the third?” You and your sister asked in sync. Sherlock forgot you were twins.

He blinked, then remembered, chuckled to himself before continuing, “he knows I’m onto him.”

Great.

Every thread Sherlock pulled – a loose thread, as your mother called it – it disappeared, then returned somewhere else.

It was a dance, as he called it. You found that description quite pretty.

It was, in his own words, “infuriating.”

No leads for him, nor for you it seemed. Same boat and all that.

That was a lie, “one,” he said, “A week before the first transfer, there was a break-in at the Treasury office by a man in a taper crown hat.”

A document was taken as you noted down the hat. Very sensitive apparently, the document. As for how it all connected, Sherlock was at a loss.

“Your turn,” he said, walking to his office, “I hope the blood’s not yours.”

“We’re looking for a girl, Sarah Chapman.”

“Her sister, Bessie, employed us.”

“Sarah worked at Lyons match factory by day, and the music hall at night.”

“She has a…lover, whose flat we went to.”

Enola passed the letter with the poppy on to Sherlock. You both hadn’t really noticed it, the talking over each other. Granted, it used to be – and still was, in certain situations – sign and talk, but same thing.

Sherlock, being who he was, figured it out instantly.

“Whitechapel, yes –“ Enola said, taking the letter back.

“There, we found her friend –“

“Mae –“

“…murdered,” you whispered the last part out. Seemed it was finally catching up on you.

Sherlock’s expression changed, into one of concern. Enola looked down. Seemed it had finally caught up on her as well.

“And who killed her,” well, that lasted long on Sherlock’s end, “this poppy fellow?”

You hated that flower book for making you stay away from certain things. Sure, nature had its dark point but…actually, your point was void, as the book you were reading was non fiction.

“Told you it would help,” Enola said, looking at your imaginary friend. You were startled, seemed you’d confessed all that to it, “it’s fine,” she assured, “I do it too when I need.”

You then turned back to Sherlock, “I suspect so,” Enola said.

“Maybe he took Sarah, and her friend discovered it. I think,” you added on.

Sherlock scoffed, “love. What it does to people.”

You just hoped the reason he shouted at you wasn’t because of hate.

Sherlock continued, asking what she was killed with. Then if you touched the weapon. You had not. Then came a question you guessed would; why did you run?

“We found more evidence on her. This policemen wanted it. Y/N had frozen. I had to get them out of there, too.”

“He had a stick,” you say, looking down in shame for your action.

“Grail,” they had a history, Sherlock revealed.

Then was the newest letter, the bloodstained musical one. You stayed in your place.

Sherlock tried playing it, Enola looked to you, then your friend with a look of confusion. Fine, so it wasn’t music. It wasn’t very good.

As bad as the poem. Oh, then Sherlock said that very thing. Maybe you did have hope yet.

Sherlock asked to have it be left with him, something you and Enola denied him. It was yours. It was important to your case.

You slipped up as you both continued to explain that case, however. You said she would never blackmail people.

“You don’t know this person,” Sherlock argued.

“We feel we do.”

“You came here running from the police. Someone is already dead, and you are both now suspects in a murder case. You’ve let your emotions get the better of you,” Sherlock reprimanded as he got his coat, “stay here. Don’t leave. I will look into this.”

“But Sarah Chapman is our responsibility. No one else cares for these girls!” Enola argued, “we promised her sister.”

“The first mistake a detective makes is to make it about themselves and not the case,” he went to the door, opening it with frustration. That melted a way for a moment, as he paused at the door, turning back to you both, “Enola, Y/N, I know neither of you are a fan of unnecessary advice, but please…don’t turn into me.”

He shut the door. As Enola looked to your friend once again, “we should probably write that down.”

“Do you want me to?” You offered.

“Please?” you nodded at her request, doing so.

“I’m sorry,” you said, after a short while.

Enola turned from the window, “whatever for?”

“We almost had Sherlock, and I – he was right, I was being emotional.”

Enola sat opposite you, “that’s not a bad thing, Y/N.”

“Maybe it is for this type of work,” you traced shapes onto the table, before looking back up at her, “I wish I could that that, you know? I wish I could just talk to anyone out there. I wish I could not have to write it down. I wish I could just…turn it all off. Like a switch. It would certainly help.”

She leant forward, holding her hands out. You placed yours in hers, “I don’t think your emotions are a curse, Y/N. I think they’re your greatest gift. You put it into your writing. You put it into how you interact with people, be that with paper, fingers, or words. You’re careful about what you say and when. That care you had for Tewksbury made you warn him and go back to save him. That anger you had for the man in Bowler hat made you think fast to get us out,” she smiled, “our brains just work differently. That’s a fact we can’t avoid. But, there is another.”

“That is…?”

“When we put them together, nothing can stop us.”

She gave you a moment to process her words, letting you speak first, “I take it you figured something out?” while its not what she wanted, it would have to do. There was still a case, after all.

“I have. A well-heeled gentlemen to afford love like that.”

“The papers?” you suggested.

She nods, “the papers,” she confirmed.

So, together, you read through different ones, trying to find something to match. Something to go from. A lead.

“Match makers ball…Enola,” you called. She came over to you, “look,” you pointed to a name, “Typhus from the poster.”

She read further down, “hosted by Henry and Hilda Lyon. 12 Marchmont Square.”

“Wait,” you said, going back to your notebook and scrolling back a bit. You brought out the “12 March” note.

“It’s not a date at all…” she then continued reading the print, “’Their eldest son, William Lyon will be leading the first…’”

“What?” you prompted.

“Tewksbury. He said about…sweet Williams. Red. At the factory, a man there was named William.”

“They’re the same?”

“That…and, the flower. It’s not a poppy. It’s a…” she left it for you to fill in.

You shut your eyes, trying to remember. You used to read that book all the time.

“Sweet William flower!”

“Exactly!” you both then looked at your comrade, “let’s see how sweet you are, Sweet William.”

She paused, giving you an excited look, “we’re going to a ball,” she chuckled. That smile then faded, “ugh.”

“Yes, ‘ugh.’” You both shared a laugh at that.

Still, you both found some outfits to wear, you knew your style now, so knew what to look for. And off you went. Bringing masks. Being wanted and all, it would help.

“Tis I,” Enola said, as you both turned back, removing the mask. She then put it back, “tis not I.”

She then looked to you, “you do it?”

“Why?”

“Because it’s fun, dear sibling.”

“No –”

“Please…”

“Enola, no.”

“Please, Y/N…”

“No –”

“Please!” she begged.

You sighed, “tis I.”

“Louder.”

“Tis I,” you said, a bit louder.

“Louder!”

“Tis I!” You announced to the heavens above.

Enola laughed, “see? Took some weight off, didn’t it?”

You chuckled yourself, nodding, “It did.”

You go in first, but Enola turns back and raises her eyebrows, glad it’s working.

As you went in, however, you saw it was…not that type of ball.

“No masks. No matter,” your sister declared.

You both leant against opposite sides of the doorway, listening to the speech. Of how Henry Lyon turned everything into gold. He was a legend allegedly because of what he did with matches. In two years, he’d turned red into black. Or, as so funnily quipped, red into white?

He mentioned Typhus as well. Then, William was pointed to. There he was, in the flesh.

Enola and you both watched the fans and how they were moved. Like Sherlock it seemed like a dance. Like its own language to be deciphered.

Wait…

As the speech ended with the string on the cake being set on fire and the ball in full swing, you and Enola regrouped, “what is it?” she asked you as you weaved your way through the crowd.

“I think I figured a small part of Sherlock’s case out.”

“Oh?”

“What if it’s a cipher. That fan…they seemed to be communicating something. Maybe his notes are the same…”

“I will give you a well done, but we will have to tell him this later. Once we’re done here.”

“Dash promise?”

“Dash promise.”

You then pass three women, “I believe I’ve seen that dress somewhere before. Oh yes, last year…” the girls laughed.

“I think it’s charming, elegant,” another, blonde girl, said to you.

“I think you are kind,” Enola said. The two sharing a smile. The girl then sent one to you as well. One you returned.

You both continued on your way, but you breath picked up a bit when you saw that the Lyon family were reunited.

“I shall handle this,” she assured you, “I will be back,” she gave your hand a squeeze, before leaving to confront them.

You went to the side-lines, folding your arms as you looked at how comfortable everyone is.

“I mean what I said,” that voice from earlier said. She holds out a glass towards you, of which you gratefully take.

“I’m Cicely,” she held out her hand, one you shook.

“Y/N.”

“Are you that girl’s chaperone?” the question almost killed you via choking on your drink.

“No. No,” you said, after getting your breath back, “she’s, my sister.

She looked between you both, “ah, I see,” she said, “my mistake.”

“It happens,” more than you’d ever have liked to admit.

“I think your sister might need you, it seems,” she said, pointing to where Enola was walking up the stairs.

“It does,” you said, “excuse me.”

“Of course,” she said, letting you go.

You caught up with Enola at the balcony, “that did not go well.”

“It did not, no.”

There was a pause. You just looking at the party itself, Enola looking between it and you. You looked up after a minute, not liking the heights again.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

You looked at her silently, eyebrows raised, “I shouldn’t have left you there. I should have come back for you.”

You shook your head, “I can look after myself.”

“I know you can,” she said, softly, “I just worry about you.”

“You don’t think I worry about you, too?”

“I know you do. It’s just…I think we…” she didn’t quite know how to do put into words that wouldn’t sting.

“I think I have, inadvertently, put you in my shadow. Just like Sherlock put us in his.”

“If it means anything, I don’t think you have.”

“It does. It does. A great deal, I can assure. It’s just, I fear I may have compromised you in the process. Forced you to become something you aren’t.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m not sure yet.”

You both looked back out over the crowd, as someone new – but someone Enola recognised – approached, “Terrible, aren’t they? These things?” she said, “all Pompidou and popinjay,” she then looked at Enola only, “have we met somewhere before? I feel I recognise you from somewhere.”

Enola chuckled awkwardly, “I simply have one of those faces.”

The other woman laughed, “Mira Troy, private secretary to Lord McIntyre” she introduced, she gestured down to the man himself, “Treasury Minister.”

“Tabitha. Tabitha Timothy. And this is my brother (or sister), Troy (or Tiffany for she/her),” she was quick on the name, but – once again, like the estate – she had to refer to you the wrong way.

The woman smiles to you both, “you mustn’t let them concern you,” she said, “it’s just a performance. Everyone here is playing a part. Testing each other,” she pointed down to one couple, “winning,” then some girls on the side-lines, “losing,” she then turned back to you, “and it’s fun, once you now the rules.”

You then tried not to stumble as you spoke, “what about the fans?”

The woman looked to you, “what are they doing with them?” Enola clarified for you.

The woman chuckled. They were sending messages. Things they couldn’t say out loud. Enola then thanked her for the lesson. One Mira said was ‘hard learned.’ She then passed on her fan to Enola. All she had to do, if she wished to speak to William, was to use that.

Enola flicked the fan open, making a face as she waved it. Trying to be a lady. You did smile a bit at her antics. It grew even more, and she followed your eyesight to see a man, charmed by those moments.

“Help,” she mouthed to you and your silent friend, but neither of you did anything. You liked this entity.

She made wild gestures, desperately trying to get him away. He got the signal, but was hurt.

“Could have gone worse, dear sister,” you said, nudging Enola with your elbow.

“Hush now,” she snapped, “I need to think.”

“Oh…” you looked up at her noise, then followed her eyes to see someone you didn’t expect. Tewksbury.

“I have an idea,” she said, leaning down so you could both whisper now.

“And that is?”

“Have Tewksbury teach me how to dance.”

“Ah,” you said, looking to your friend, “go get him then. I’ll be here.”

She gave you a pat on the back, “I’ll try to not be too long.”

“I’ll keep on eye on William.”

“Thank you, honestly. You’re a good sibling, Y/N.”

“You’re a good sister, Enola.”

After that, she goes to get Tewksbury, leaving you alone.

As she learns, you look at your shared imaginary friend, “can I be honest?” You asked, looking down, the glass – it looked to be anyway – and not feeling that judgment like before, “maybe Enola is right. Maybe I am becoming something else. To tell the truth, even I don’t know. My own voice shocks me. I do not sound like her, or mother. Yet I was raised the same. I speak the same, but it does not sound the same. I sound less like the people in here. And more like people out there,” you pointed with your thumb outside the hall.

“Sherlock said love made you do things. Maybe that is why Tewksbury is around me. To get to Enola. I don’t understand why, or that notion. But…it does trouble me.”

As you finished your speech, Enola exited the room. She took her place by you again.

“Everything alright?” she asked.

“Always,” you lied.

The two of you split up again as Enola got her dance signed by William. The writings matched.

The two of you then just needed a moment to strike. So, you stayed back, happening to be in the same place Tewksbury was. While Enola ate, you drank. Only a small amount, but still.

Enola and Cicely had a conversation, one you were half listening into. Mainly Enola’s side, with her denying liking Tewksbury. Liking someone was fine, nothing wrong with that and –

Oh. Oh, the romance books you read as a child. They never did much for you, to be honest.

“Do you not have a dance partner?” Enola asked as Cicely went to Tewksbury to ask for a dance; he looked back to you as he signed it.

“I shall watch, rather than participate.”

“Very well, then. Keep an eye out.”

“I will,” You assured.

After the dance, she approached you, “we’re meeting. At midnight.”

“Shall we,” you say, offering your arm, “to not bring suspicion.”

“I’m afraid we must conform, if only for a moment. Although, you have been for a whole night, dear sibling.”

“That night is almost over.”

“That it is.”

As Enola and Tewksbury argued, the male looked to you, “did you know about this man?”

“Why is that important? But no, I did not know about it.”

“So, you are living in her shadow, then?”

The words stung you.

“I – I apologise. That –”

“No, no,” you said, “she thought it true, as well.”

“Y/N,” Enola’s hand was rejected when you moved back. Not in a flinch, it was the calmest she’d ever seen you.

“You’re right,” you admitted, “I may have. But I have made my bed, and I shall now sleep in it,” you then point to the other two, “now, whatever this is between you, you resolve it. I am not standing here a moment longer as you two talk ill of each other and tear each other apart over a thing as simple as love!”

The two were stunned by your words. But, before they could retort, William walked in.

However, before that could even be, Lestrade had appeared. Now, he had taken both Holmes siblings.

Tewksbury, always the honourable friend, had tried to argue your case, but you both stopped him. There was no point. You weren’t dragging him down with you.

This was your case. Not his. But he could still aid in one way.

He kept the letters as you were both escorted out.

You were together in one carriage ride, then separated in the next.

“No,” Enola cried, “Y/N, no! No, let me see them! No. No!” her cries only became more quieter the further you were away.

It seemed the police knew how dangerous you could be together.

So, you were both sent to different places.

Sherlock tried to use his detective skills to free you both, but it proved foul when Grail showed his silver bullet in the case of Enola’s fingerprints on the weapon, and you were always by her side, so you were an accomplice, with more blood on your hands than her.

You were silent, and you were scared.

You had never been to jail. But you had also never been this far from Enola or your family in general before.

You knew no one here. But one thing you did know, was that you were not safe.

You would never know this, but like Enola, you were surrounded – and expected a fight.

You got anything but.

Instead, there was a loud BANG! And the prisoners attacked the guards. In the mayhem, you found your way to the door. You slammed through it, and were greeted by Edith – Enola and yours’ friend.

“Get in!” she told you. You did so, only to see someone you thought you never would again.

“Hello, my little dove,” said your mother.

She expected the hug, but it still threw her back a bit, but she hugged you just as tight.

“Enola. She –”

“Shhh. We know. I know. Don’t worry, we’re getting her out next. Don’t worry,” she soothed.

You put your head on her shoulder, “I missed you.”

“Just as I did with you both.”

“Mother?” You asked as you pulled away.

“What is it?”

 “I fear I have chosen the wrong path,” you admitted.

“Why would you say that dear?”

“I am glad Enola has her Detective agency, truly. And part of it being in my name is very nice of her. It…I don’t know if that’s me. Is that bad?”

“Of course, it isn’t,” she said, moving some of your hair out of the way. She put her hand under your chin, and gently brought your head up, “whatever path you choose, your true allies will walk it with you. I am among those. I always will be.”

You nodded, glad to have your mother’s wisdom again. But she also saw something else bothering you.

“Is there anything else that is troubling you, my dear?”

“Am I…are you my real mother?”

The way she paused did not sit right with you.

“I always knew this day would come.”

“…You’re not?” You asked, tears in your eyes.

“Of course, I am,” she assured, quickly, holding your hand, “not by blood, but something stronger.”

“Like Sarah…and Bessie…”

“Yes, love. Just like Sarah and Bessie.”

The ride continued as you took it all in. You weren’t a Holmes by blood. And yet they accepted you.

“Does…” the question wasn’t finished, but she knew what you were asking.

“Mycroft and Sherlock do, yes. Edith brought you to me when I was pregnant with Enola. There was a name on the basket, so I kept it for you. If you want, once we’ve solved this, we can find your blood parents?”

You thought about it, you really did. A part of your history that was fully yours. It was enticing. But –

“No,” you said, “I think that’s better left to whatever I can picture up here.”

“Very well,” your mother said, before opening her arms up again. You filled them quite quick with your own hug.

Enola was then freed, and she hugs you both tightly as you set off once again.

The police had now caught up with you, and the chase was on.

“So, this case of yours, how’s it going?”

“I don’t know. We were trying to help a girl find her sister, but I –”

“We,” you corrected. Enola smiles at you, glad you’re still on her side.

“We’ve made things worse.”

“Nonsense,” you mother said as she lit a match, “you stirred up a hornet’s nest. You are both onto something. Why else would they try and silence you?” she had a point; and a very good one at that.

She lit the bomb, “don’t worry, it’s completely harmless,” oh, so not bomb.

Either way, out the window it went. Whatever it was, it gave you some time to get away.

“This match factory, what do you know about it?”

“It’s a roaring success.”

“In two years, it’s doubled its profits.”

“And now there’s Typhus.”

“Typhus?” Your mother questioned, having been used to your overlapping talking since you were kids.

“Yes, the girls are going down with it.”

“They’re dying.”

However, given your mother’s face, she didn’t believe that.

“That’s a loose thread,” one that was now being pulled.

“What?” there was no answer, instead only a warning that they were back. Then a warning to brace yourselves. Your mother’s leg hooked your own, so you had some support.

BAM! The carriage shook as you all tried to keep your balance.

Another bomb was lit as your mother continued talking, “we know about these factories. Girls like Sarah Chapman, they’re expendable. They go missing, too often they die, no one cares. But this girl, they care about. And greatly. So, what does she know?”

“She stole something. Some papers.”

“Aha! So, what’s she gonna do with them? What’s her plan? She’s not a thief. She’s not a blackmailer. She is a troublemaker.”

“She knows something,” Your mother pointed to you, the three of you had something now.

“And that is infinitely more dangerous.”

As the carriage continued to shake, the three of you held the bomb as best you could. Enola blew out the match. The direction for it, this time, was the right, Enola’s side.

She threw it, and it landed right where they needed.

“Now, whatever Sarah is hiding, it’s a secret. You need to look for what she knows. Find that out, and everything else will follow. She’s probably right under your nose,” as your mother said that a bullet very much almost took that object off your nose. The three of you ducking down. Eudoria covering you with her body as much as she could.

She took a peek up, seeing who it was, “Grail.”

More shots rang out, some hit the parts of the carriage you were in, others hit where Edith were. Eudoria called out to your friend, but she was still ok. Good, you were still in this.

There was a tense moment of silence, none of you inside the carriage not knowing Grail’s next move. It was soon revealed to you, however.

In the form of the carriage going onto its side. You all flipped over, being crushed by your family.

When it stopped, Eudoria spoke, “that’s not good,” then she remembered you being slightly crushed, “so sorry, darling. Here we go,” she said as herself and Enola got up, helping you up as well.

Edith helped you all out, only for to then find yourself surrounded by Grail. One of his men tossed him his cane. You scoffed at it. Enola smirked, having an idea of why you scoffed.

Smug prick, he was.

“Glory be,” he said, “it’s the holy quadruple. I’ll make commissioner for this,” he then looked to his men, “take ‘em.”

That, as he’d find out, was easier said than done. Edith and your mother threw the first punches. You and Enola took your own fights each.

Now, as said before, you weren’t exactly an expert in fighting. Enola had always told you to ‘avoid the punch, make the counterpunch,’ so it was time to see if it paid off.

It did at first, you doing exactly as she had taught you. You even threw in your own thing, with the trees being used to angle your attacker into.

At least, until Grail approached you, hooking you with his cain and then slamming it into you. You fell to the ground, trying to recover. When you realised what you were in, a forest. Trees, grass – and, more importantly – soil.

You dug your hands into it, before throwing it up into Grail’s face, he cried out, clutching his eyes. Enola punched your first opponent in the face, before helping you up, only for you both to be thrown down as Eudoria came to your aid. Using his own weapon against him.

Enola, after the two of you got up, ran to finally finish Grail off, flipping him over. You then watched as your mother pulled a new pin, “this is not harmless. Run!”

You all did, as fast as you could.

You made it a bit further, before resting and recovering.

“Good thing I never valued my pelvis,” she said, helping Enola with her hair, “how about you, Edith? How are the kidneys?”

“Fine,” her friend answered, looking at the mark on your face, “you will be fine,” she assured you, before going back to Eudoria’s point, “I quite enjoyed it.”

“Hm,” your mother said, “you enjoy everything. It’s most irritating.”

Enola and you had been redressed as well. More protection from what was next.

The three Holmes’ walked together, with Edith taking the lead.

“So, um, how’s that useless boy of yours?” Eudoria asked, looking between you and Enola, “I hear he’s doing good work.”

“He is,” Enola said, after clicking her tongue.

“Uh-huh. Well then, perhaps not so useless after all.”

“He has his moments,” you said, your sister and mother turning to you and chuckling.

“I wouldn’t say he’s ‘my boy,’” Eudoria’s tiny smirk made Enola lose eye contact.

“You know, I sometimes think I brought you both up to be too independent.”

You both turned to your mother, “mother!” you both scolded her. Ironic, but still.

“I did it with all of you. You both, Sherlock, Mycroft. Strong, formidable, individual children all in your own right; but, well, perhaps a little lonely.”

Ah, so that was the word, then. You were lonely. A little.

Enola looked crestfallen, “you both will do very well on your own,” Eudoria said, stopping you both with hands on your arms, “whether that be together or not. But, with others, you could be magnificent. Together, you are extraordinary, but with more help, you could be more.”

Your mother then gestured to Edith, “who do you think organised all of this after all? Hm? Me?” Edith hugged Enola, then held her hand out to you, one she squeezed, “no, you find your allies. Work with them, and you will become more of who you are. You speak with one voice, and you will make more noise than you could ever have imagined.”

Enola and you both had tears in your eyes as you walked. This was goodbye for now. But you knew you both needed a talk like this.

“Come on. They should go. We’ll put them off their scent,” Edith suggested.

Eudoria nodded, fixing both of your hairs one more time. She put her hand on your cheek, “a battle scar,” she said, even if her tone was a little sad.

“A story unto itself.”

She smiled, “yes.”

“I don’t know if I want anymore,” you said.

She nodded, “understandable. Still, remember what I said?”

“Always,” you promised.

You looked to Enola for a second, who was hugging Edith, then back to your mother. She knew your question.

“Do you want to tell her?” she prompted.

You used to hate when she did this, throw the question back at you. But now, now you understood why she would do that. For you to form your own answer.

To find your own way through the issue.

You nodded, and she did too.

She then turned back to Enola, a hand on both of your shoulders, “so, you dust yourselves down, and keep facing forward. And, if either of you ever get condemned for murder again, you give me a shout,” it made you both smile, having your mother in your corner. Always.

“We will,” you both promised.

Tears fell on your end as you hugged your mother and Edith.

“Be careful,” Enola said to Eudoria. She nodded; she always was.

So, with you and Enola at the front, you looked at each other, and nodded. Off you went, stopping and then you looked at your other friend at the comment about your hair needing a cut.

“I think ours is fine,” you nodded, agreeing. Still, you smiled. Your mother would always be there. When you needed her.

You both knew where to go next, “Bessie,” you said in sync.

The walk was nice. Just being in each other’s presence was enough. But you knew you had to say it.

“Enola...?” you asked quietly, coming to a stop. Enola herself paused, turning to you.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Can I, uh, can I tell you something?”

Her eyebrows knitted into confusion and concern for a moment, before she straightened her back, eyebrows rose back up, and she smiled, “of course you can.”

“It’s uh…I, um…”

“Y/N,” she said, taking your hands once again, “I promise it won’t drive me away. You can trust me. Whatever it is.”

“I’m not a Holmes,” ok, she didn’t expect that, “at least, not by blood. Edith…she brought me to mother, and she took me in.”

You saw her thoughts going a mile a minute, putting connections together. You just watched her, nervously playing with your fingers.

Then, she smiled, “ok.”

“’Ok?’” you parroted back.

“It doesn’t change anything,” she said, “Bessie and Sarah were found sisters. We’re found siblings. If anything, it just makes us stronger. Our bond is real.”

You felt more tears, and your smile wobbled. It was done; and it didn’t backfire.

“Come here, you,” she said, having seen this, and hugged you gently.

“Thank you,” it hurts her a little that you had thanked her for merely accepting you.

“Y/N,” she pulled away from the hug, holding your arms still, “you’re you. We might not fully know what that means for each of us, yet. But, know one thing, I will always walk with you down whichever road you choose. Always.”

“So will I,” you promise.

Together, you went to Bessie’s. Now a more united from than ever. You warned her about the danger, and that she needed to go somewhere safe you both solved this.

She had a place to go, Doris had a spare bed, her sister dead from Typhus. Enola then looked to the flowers. Speaking of dead things…

“Y/N, your notebook,” she said, putting the pieces together in her head. You flicked back to the notes on the factory, seeing the red and white in the different soils. The two-year gap of changing them as well made the picture become more clear to you both. The science book Sarah had, the jars Enola had found at house.

Then, the cheese you had looked at earlier. You approached it, pulling out a now dead mouse. But around it was the white substance as before.

You had a smoking bullet, now you just had to find someone to help you pull the trigger.

You and Enola shared a look. Tewksbury. You both crossed the road, now more careful, and knocked on his door. He opened it, stopping in surprise at your arrival.

“We need your help,” Enola said.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at you both still.

“Don’t make me repeat it! May we come in?”

He let you in.

“Firstly, I would like to apologise for so much. We – I have failed to see allies in plain sight. Y/N would visit you; they always knew you were on our side. And I’m sorry that I didn’t sooner,” she looked to you, giving you an apologetic look. You just nodded, knowing that it was now going to fixed.

“Enola,” Tewksbury said to try say his piece, “there’s something I wish to say too,” he moved Enola to the couch, gesturing for you to follow as well. You do. He sat in the chair opposite you.

It took him a moment, but he started, “all day, everyday, all I do is compromise. If I vote for this lord’s bill that will allow him to pump bilge water into a lake, then he will vote for my forestry reform. I want to stand up and say, ‘this isn’t right,’ but I have no allies. So, to do so would be a risk to all that is good, so I lie awake trying to work out which path to follow, alone.”

You knew what you wanted to say to him, but you could also tell that he wasn’t done, “there is no search for a wife, because politics consumes me constantly. That is the speech I stored up for you,” he said, talking directly to Enola.

Enola smiled a small one, “you’re a good man,” seemed she was right, the bond brought your twin being able to know exactly what you were thinking.

“I’m a man now?” he asked. Ah yes, he would only have been one once she declared it so.

“On occasion,” the two chuckled, you smiled, “but I understand your struggle, because we struggle too. I am sorry we cannot talk more, because we have –”

“A case to solve?” he guessed, even if he didn’t seem too hurt by it.

“The girl we’re looking for, Sarah Chapman, she has proof that girls are dying from the phosphorus they work with every day. And the factory are trying to cover it up as a typhus.”

“She knows what it actually is,” you say, “someone wants her dead because of it.”

“Then what can we do?” Tewksbury asked.

“We?”

That never got an answer, as a knock on the door was heard. You all stood.

“Don’t open it. It could be the police.”

“You’re still wanted by the police?” your friend asked.

“How do you think we’re here?” you threw back at him.

“You escaped?”

“Daringly so -”

“Forget we told you that,” Enola and you said in sync.

Tewksbury told you to hide, knowing that with the lights on, whoever wanted to see him, would know he was in.

You both did, going to a large plant room. As a last ditch effort to both keep an eye on it and be discreet, Enola held up a plant to cover her face, one you moved down.

It was Cicely, from the ball. She had come to ask him about a relationship.

Enola’s glare deepened more and more the more the two spoke. You kept your eyes on Tewksbury, watching and listening as he was gentle in getting her out. He was always a man of manners, it was one of the things you admired about him.

You both reappeared, Tewksbury didn’t know that you had seen the whole thing. He called her ‘flustered.’

Enola seemed to act unbothered, but she clearly was.

Cicely had come to him before, for help. She was working on a bill to change the factory law. For Enola, that sparked something. As Tewksbury continued to go on for a speech about his feelings for Enola, it then clicked for you as well.

As she said to your company that had been there this whole time, Sarah was Cicely. Sure, she went to seemingly dance with him at the ball, but it was also for the bill.

Enola ran out first, before opening the door back up, grabbing your hand, and pulling you with her. You were trying to do two things; one, fully grasp what Tewksbury was trying to say despite being flustered himself; and two, going back over everything you had seen with this new revelation in mind.

You made it outside, but Tewksbury stopped you both, asking if either of you had heard what he had said. Or, rather, what he didn’t say. What he meant. The meaning.

You were still trying that part.

“Yes,” Enola said, “you were saying that you…” she paused. The word there on her tongue, but unable to be spoken.

The stare between Tewksbury and Enola became softer, and yet more charged at the same time.

“That message you sent me with the fan at the hall,” you weren’t sure if you should do something else right now, but you also didn’t know where to go exactly. You were forced to stay put as this happened, “what did it mean?”

He was able to say the words, however, “it means I love you.”

Oh, that was it; and, judging by Enola’s smile and scoff, she felt that same way as well.

“Of course,” she said, having reached another conclusion now.

Tewksbury went to talk, but you held up a finger, “one moment,” you signed.

“They were working together, in love,” Sarah and William, that was, “they had a plan. To expose the corruption in that factory and stop what his father was doing. They wanted your help,” she said, turning back to Tewksbury, “William Lyon invited you to that ball. He’s a radical just like you.”

“They needed my help,” he said, putting the puzzle pieces together himself, “you’re right,” however, “but, Enola, we must return inside."

“I’m not just staying out here,” you quipped.

He looked to you, “no, of course. Both of you. We must go inside. The police are pursuing you both; and Enola, we have much to talk of,” he said, trying to pull you both inside.

“No!” she denied, slapping him on the arm, “I know we have much to talk of, my dear, dear lord. You love me. And as it turns out, I love you too.”

“You love me too?”

The smile and tears in her eyes said it all, “you really are a nincompoop,” she said, affectionately recalling the old nickname she had for him.

“Now,” she said, getting back on track, “hail a cab.”

He did so; and before you knew it, you were back at the factory. Well, for you, the first time at the thing. But still.

You made your way as quietly as you could across the gravel.

“Shh!” Enola snapped, hitting Tewksbury again on the arm, “you’re walking loudly.”

“But it’s gravel,” he argued.

“Here,” you said, “try this,” as you did a sort of dance on the gravel, not making as much noise as either of them.

“I don’t think he can, Y/N, he has large feet.”

“I know,” he said.

You reached the gate. Just as you’d expected, it was locked. Tewksbury helped Enola over, then he turned to you, but you stopped, “no.”

“No?” they both said.

“But, Y/N, this is our case,” your sister argued.

“I know it is,” you said, softly, “but I’m not the fighter that you are, Enola. At least, not in the same way. You go, we’ll stand guard, I’ll go over my notes.”

She thought about it, before nodding. Accepting this decision.

“If anyone comes. Tell them you’re a Lord or something,” Enola said to Tewksbury.

“I am a Lord,” Tewksbury pointed out.

“Then they’ll likely believe you,” she then turned to you, “and you are –”

“A detective,” you answered, smirk on your face. You winked. She smirked back. This was going good.

It was a small bit of time later, when Tewksbury spoke up, “do you think we should find our own way in?”

You looked to your friend, “why’s that?”

“It just…it doesn’t feel right, being right. Something feels off.”

You put your finger in your mouth, then holding it up. You shut your eyes, feeling the wind. The rush of it. The coldness of it all.

You opened your eyes, looking to your other friend, “he’s right,” you said, before looking to Tewksbury, “we should find a way in.”

He nodded, and the two of you left to do that.

You both did find a way in, and made your way to the only light in the place, the office. Entering it, Tewksbury seemed to want to speak to Sherlock, but you were more occupied with who was in the chair.

William. He was the one in the chair; and he was dead.

Lord McIntyre, the treasury man, had been profiting off this place; and William wanted to expose it. Cheaper formula for cheaper phosphorous. But one that was more deadly.

That was the corruption part, at least.

You wish you had Tewksbury’s reaction. But this wasn’t a death like Mae. As she said, you needed to stay unemotional.

You couldn’t quite. You felt sorry for the man, given all that had happened, and he wouldn’t be able to see it concluded. Still, you knew he’d get the justice he deserved.

Lord McIntyre seemed to be behind the death. Only –

“No one has sat in this chair,” Sherlock said, looking to the other chair in the room, “no marks on the carpet, no indentation. The cigar has been smoked, but is now cold,” he then picked up the ashtray, “and look, no ash.”

Enola took a closer look, “no lips have touched that glass.”

“Exactly,” Sherlock said.

“It’s been staged,” you concluded, everyone looked to you. But you only looked at the pieces, “they were placed here to tell a certain story. To hide who really did this.”

“Precisely,” Sherlock said.

By who, was the big question, however. It wasn’t McIntyre, he was off the hook, for the murder at least. But it had to be someone close to him. Someone who knew what they were up to and was blackmailing them.

That was number two then, blackmail. Now you just needed extortion.

Apparently, this person liked a game. And they hadn’t gotten what they had wanted.

“Poor William,” your sister said, putting her hand in his, only to find something in that grasp. A note. You looked at it too, and it was musical…

Ah, you pulled the musical letter out of Enola’s pocket and put it on the table. You made it fit. To you, it was still just music.

Enola read out the name again, looking to you. Maybe not to bounce an idea off of, but just to look somewhere else as her mind went over this new puzzle.

“Could be biblical, mythical,” Sherlock guessed.

“Theatrical?”

You looked up, ahead as you narrowed your eyes.

“The Gods is the –”

“Top row,” you finished, quietly.

“Yes," Tewksbury said, “the balcony.”

You clicked your fingers, and Enola saw in your eyes you had a similar idea.

“It’s not a song,” you said, holding it up to the light, the letters on it being from that theatre. Enola had a good look around, and made note of those things while you were backstage.

“It’s a map,” you both said together.

So, you had your destination, the theatre.

To say it was awkward in the carriage, was an understatement. Now was a time of calm, or at least build up. So, there was time to talk. As Tewksbury had said, apparently Enola and him had a lot to discuss. Yet, you noted, that no words had come out. You looked out the window, trying to focus on the sounds of the world around you. It worked, for a few moments. But it didn’t drown them out. Most people, you could. You didn’t know most people. These two, however, you did. And you cared for them dearly.

“Just to be clear,” Tewksbury said, “as to what we might be about to face.”

Enola shrugged, “there may be some violence. You’ve faced it before.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “I did have part of a suit of armour on,” he looked to you, “thank you, again.”

You just nodded.

“But yes,” he continued, “fighting will be…” he chuckled nervously, “yes.”

“You’ve been in a fight before, right?” Enola asked.

“Yes, plenty of fights. Fenced for my school.”

“Fist fights? The ones with no real rules?” you questioned.

He didn’t answer, his mouth opened and closed a few times, however.

“Fine, point taken. Can you teach me to fight?” he asked, looking between you. You just pointed to Enola, who knocked your finger down.

“What, right now? In a carriage?”

“Did I not teach you to dance in five minutes in a bathroom?” true, he did.

“Alright,” she said, “fine,” she looked to you, “swap, please?”

You both did so, even if it was a bit of a hassle. So, she taught him what she taught you; avoid the punch, make the counterpunch. She even taught him the same way she taught you, by forcing you to do so.

She gave him the same lessons, avoid the punch and don’t leave yourself open. Although, his want to be respectful did get in the way. So, she lamped him. He fell back, you moved a bit to make sure he didn’t collide with you. Enola chuckled, and you had a smile.

She did it again, the laugh continued. He snapped at her to stop. But that only made her laugh more.

Sherlock knocked on the top bit of the carriage, announcing your arrival. That lead to a silence, as they stared at each other. You were sure of what was going to happen, so you closed your eyes. Not even tightly, just enough so that you could focus on the ambience around you. And it all came to you, helped you control your breathing.

“Sorry you had to –” Tewksbury started to say, still laughing with Enola after the kiss.

“Give them a moment,” Enola said, as you started to let go of the ambience.

“What are they doing?” he asked.

“Preparing,” she answered.

You arrived, and made your way into the Paragon, ready to put another case again to the solved pile. Granted, it was a short pile for you two, but it still counted. You entered through the back, making your way onto the stage. It was odd, seeing it so empty, and so dark.

“May I see the map?” Enola asked. You gave it to her, and she held it up. X marked the spot.

You made your way to that area, at the Gods section, and to the chair the X was alluding to. There, lied something under it. A scroll. As she grabbed it, you noticed someone both new, and old at the same time.

“Sarah,” Enola greeted. There she was, in her Cicely outfit.

“It’s all there,” she said, in her natural voice, “all the proof we need.”

Enola reread it, then passed it to you, “the contract between Lyon and McIntyre,” when you looked back up from it, Sarah had removed her wig, “to change the phosphorus.”

Enola looked to the next one as you scanned the first, “what William stole for you.”

She then read her one, “and the pages from the factory register. That’s what you stole from the office,” Sarah nodded. Enola came to stand by you, “these are the names of the girls they killed.”

“I couldn’t let ‘em be forgotten.”

“We won’t,” you promised, and Sarah looked to you thankfully, but there was still a bit of doubt.

“And,” Enola continued, “it’s proof that match girls are dying from working in that factory, and they knew all along.”

“You’re a bloody good detective, Enola and Y/N Holmes,” Enola inhaled deeply, you just nodded – even if the job was more your sister’s title.

“You are too, Sarah Chapman,” Enola said.

“I will share this with the world, I promise you,” Tewksbury said.

“I shall write about it. Share it wherever I can,” you said.

That doubt Sarah had before had all but gone when she saw the conviction you both had to help, “thank you,” she said, eyes bright, “now we just need to find William. He was supposed to meet me six hours ago.”

Ah.

You all had to give the news. Enola gave her a hug; you gave her arm a pat. They were ready to go public, all they needed was someone in power who would listen or else no one would care. All the man was doing was trying to keep her safe. He’d paid for it.

But, looking to Enola, you both knew you wouldn’t let it be in vain.

Sherlock then spoke up, “we must move quickly, or we’ll lose you too.”

It was then, that another voice spoke up. Grail.

“Losing this…losing that,” he wasn’t along, Bessie was being held by him, with a knife to her throat, “seems you lost everything.

“Bessie!” Sarah said in concern.

“You’ve all been very careless,” Grail said as more of his men appeared, aiming weapons at you, “I’ll take those,” he said, looking at the papers.

“Let go of her,” Enola demanded.

He only leant down a bit to her level, instead, “give me the papers and I will.”

Enola looked back at you all, before meeting your eyes. You shook your head, despite the fear you had of death itself, you had to get this out there.

She couldn’t risk all of you, however. She couldn’t. She couldn’t bare anymore lose.

She walked forward, Bessie pleading with Enola through a look to stop. Your sister didn’t, however. So, she acted herself.

She bit him. As he cried out, Sherlock slammed his stick into the pistol of the one holding him hostage. You were lucky with your doge of a bullet; your fist went into your would-be killer. You threw Tewksbury’s one away to Sherlock.

“Run, Bessie!” Sarah shouted, she did so as Enola bent Grail’s arm and kicked him.

“Don’t just stand there!” Sherlock yelled at Tewksbury as he looked back to you blocking one punch, then hitting your one with your own. He ran, tackling yours to the ground.

Enola, meanwhile, untied the rope of the trapezium, not landing it perfectly, but still. She made her way off the stage, just dodging a bullet fired at her from Grail.

As you fought your fight, Sherlock took a bullet from Grail. The man then aimed up to you, but luck as on your side as your opponent was in the way, taking the bullet for you.

Tewksbury went down the stairs, hoping you had yours handled. He was about to start his own scrap, remembering Enola’s lessons and –

He missed the punch, instead being the one who was countered.

Sherlock was on the stage, fighting someone new. This one had a blade.

You ducked a punch, hitting your one in the throat, before hitting his head into the chairs. It wasn’t nice. It was rough. But you had won.

At least, for a moment, as you were then on the floor. Then up again. Then almost going over the balcony, off the gods and down to earth. Sherlock looked up, after having thrown Tewksbury his blade. You gave him a wink, before ducking low. The man who had almost sent you off almost went off himself. Sadly, like you, he was able to as well.

Enola had made her way upstairs, jumping onto a wooden beam, hoping it would’ve brought her to safety. Instead, it only brought her to a dead end. Hopefully, not an actual one.

She took a hit or two but was able to hold her own. Until a hook was involved. It slammed into her head, blood left her, and the world went fuzzy.

She didn’t even hear the bang of her hitting the wood, but she felt it. She looked over, seeing Tewksbury bloodied and bruised; focusing for a moment, she saw you being strangled, the man seemingly deciding whether to go through with his plan to through you off or not.

She looked up and saw something that would save her. The winch. All she had to do, was make the hook go up, then she could go down.

She rolled off, as Tewksbury found the will power in him to fight, and knocked out his opponent. You, meanwhile, you had never been a fighter like Enola. You were sure she would’ve dispatched this man at this point.

But that was the point, you weren’t Enola.

So, putting your hand on the ledge, the man and you going over. His grip on you failing and he plummeted to the earth, while you struggled for grip on the ledge.

“Y/N!” Tewksbury called out. The other three looked up at your struggle. They knew that fall, while it might not have killed you, would hurt you massively.

Trusting yourself, you let one hand go, to try to point. You swung, so it made it hard for them to guess what it was you were pointing to.

Sherlock, like the man he was, figured it out, “the chairs!” he announced.

Together, they pushed a table over to you, the one directly below having been smashed by the man’s fall.

They then found some chairs and put them on top of the other.

“Just hold on!” Enola called up, before wincing, “sorry!”

You didn’t respond, you just tried all you could to hold on.

“You’re safe now!” Sherlock called, giving you the all clear.

You swung a bit with on arm dangling. You were indeed. But heights were never your thing.

Taking one more breath, closing your eyes, you lowered your foot as far as your fingers would allow. It touched one chair. Slowly, you place the other on it.

You were in the air now. You had to recover quickly as the chairs rocked.

“Here,” Tewksbury said, “if we each hold an end, it should stabilise it enough.”

The other three complied, doing so.

“It’s alright, we won’t let you fall,” Sherlock assured.

“Because I’m your ward?” You guessed, lowering yourself into the self-made ladder.

“Because you’re my sibling, Y/N,” Sherlock corrected. The chairs wobbled a bit as you paused.

Even Enola looked to him in a new light. She smiled, and he smiled back.

You reached the table, Enola giving you a hand to help you off. When you were on ground level, she brought you into a hug, before knocking your foreheads together.

“We did it,” she said, softly.

“We did,” you confirmed.

“Quite the story to write down.”

“If anyone would believe it,” you countered with.

“We would.”

You pulled back, looking at her head, “your head,” you said, putting your hand on it, she winced, and you pulled away, “sorry. Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” she said, “I’ll be fine, Dash promise.”

You chuckled at the promise.

You turned to Tewksbury, seeing his state, “you didn’t throw the first punch?”

“Oh, I did,” he assured, “I just missed.”

You nodded, “you’ll get there.”

Then, you looked to Sherlock, who gave you a nod. One you gave back.

McIntyre, the police, and Lestrade appeared, giving you his thanks for retrieving the government property. And for bringing Grail to justice. He promised the world would know your names. You both then looked to Bessie and Sarah, who were hugging, just glad it seemed to be over.

Lestrade was then ordered to arrest Sarah. You both stuck up for the woman.

“All she stole from you was the truth,” Enola argued. He argued it was personal information, which had the two of Sherlock’s guesses in, extortion, and blackmail. You just needed bribery.

You didn’t, deep down.

Sherlock then stepped in, this time being able to clear a name. He had failed earlier trying to clear yours and Enola’s. He wasn’t failing this time.

He put it all together, about the someone that was close to him who had pocket all the money. Someone who had been ignored for years. Playing them all. Like a game, as Enola had said. She tapped you twice on the arm, a question.

You’d heard the game before. You stamped your foot on the floor. You knew it too.

You both looked to the technical third Holmes who had travelled this journey with you, eyes widening.

The game was being played by Mira Troy.

William died because the contract would have cut off her money trail. So, she hired Grail to find the document, but it quickly got out of hand, and so she painted Lord McIntyre as the mastermind.

Her true name was then revealed: Moriarty.

Despite being caught, she smiled. She confessed to enjoying the game, even with the two of you. All she wanted was the agreements. She herself couldn’t question William, so she had you both do it for her.

She did admit that the deaths were so unnecessary. But that Grail was a ‘blunt instrument.’ Your scar on your cheek confirmed it.

In the end, it was just a woman trying to find her place in society, failing to do so, and then finding her own way. Much like you and Enola.

During the distraction of arresting Moriarty, McIntyre had taken to burning the documents. The evidence. What you had to crack this thing wide open, now only ashes.

The four of you – yourself, Enola, Sarah, and Bessie – sat outside, looking at the factory that had caused so much pain. Sarah thought it was over. Those lives would be worth nothing.

But Enola thought otherwise. You still had each other; you still had the truth.

That was enough. That was all you needed to make that difference.

Enola went to the factory one more time, as you set up in your new office, writing down all you could to get the story published and out there.

You were so busy writing that you almost didn’t notice Enola enter. She smiled, seeing you so focused and now doing your own thing to help the fight.

“May I see what you have so far?” she asked. You pause and leaned to the side of your typewriter and looked to her. This time, unlike her interaction with Bessie when you first met her, you got it right first time. You nodded, resetting the typewriter, and pulling out the latest page and giving her the manuscript.

“I’m going to go for a walk,” you said, stretching your arms. You had been in for a while, “do you want anything while I’m out?”

She looked up from your work, shaking her head, “no, thank you. I’m not sure if I shall be here when you return. Tewksbury is coming over, you see,” she smiled nervously at the thought of the boy.

You nod, smiling as well, “of course. Just, keep that safe, please?” is all you asked of her.

She nodded, face going to a firm expression, “I will. Be safe.”

“I will be,” you promised, before leaving the office and waving to Edith, who waved back.

You passed Sherlock, giving him a nod and ‘thank you’ as he held the door open for you.

You smiled, taking in the busy city. Sure, it was still a bit much at times. But it was home. That, and you weren’t alone anymore. You had people you could visit.

So, you took off, letting yourself get immersed once again, a different way to the route Enola would take…

[book-place]

Rainstorms

Warnings: slight injuries, let me know if I missed any :)

Pairings: Sherlock Holmes x sister reader

Request: I would love an Enola Holmes Sherlock/sister!reader of some kind. Something comforting, like the reader getting lost on the way home and Sherlock finding her and making sure she gets home safe. I’m a sucker for brother-sister tropes. :D

Requested by: Anon

*not my gif*

Summary: A sudden storm hits, and you can’t find your way home

A/N: I wanted this to be better, but whatever

Please don’t plagiarize my work, you may reblog if you like but I’m asking that you don’t steal my hard work

It wasn’t supposed to rain. The newspapers had specifically stated that the weather would be absolutely perfect with hardly a cloud in the sky for the next week or so.

Worst case scenario, there would be a tiny drizzle at one point, not the torrential downpour that you were currently stumbling your way through.

Sherlock had been hesitant enough to allow you to walk from school back home- and it was only two streets away- so you could only imagine the kind of heart attack he would be having if he were there with you right now.

Despite that fact though, you longed for him to be with you in that moment as you wrapped your arms around yourself to try and preserve body heat that had long since vanished.

Over the last three days, your elder brother had been wrapped up in a case that he was so close to cracking, that he didn’t even have time to walk you home from school.

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to- of course he did- but the authorities were breathing down his neck for this case, hardly even letting the man get a couple mere hours of sleep a night.

It was raining so heavily at this point, that you could hardly see a foot in front of your own face, and the bricks that paved the sidewalk had become so slippery that you had to unravel one of your arms from around you and use it to steady yourself on the side of a nearby building.

Panic began to flood into your body faster than the rain had filled the streets and your breathing began to pick up to an abnormal pace, causing you to try and take deep, gasping breaths that left you sputtering from rain being dragged into your gaping mouth.

You had no idea where you were. You had no idea what was going on. The only sounds that filled your ears were the harsh slapping of rain on brick.

All of your senses were clogged by the rain, rain, rain, rain, rain-

As you continued to try and trek forward in hopes of finding home, your right foot slipped off to the side while all your weight was put into it, causing you to go tumbling to the ground.

Dully, you felt the stinging sensation on your palms from impact with the ground, but quickly huddled up against yourself and lent back against the wall, dropping your head into your lap.

Only two streets away, Sherlock’s attention was diverted from the papers in front of him for the first time in hours by the feel of something wet against his cheek.

His head lifted from his desk and a silent curse left his lips when he realized it was raining and his window had been left open.

He hurried to close it, but froze as soon as it was latched back into place. You hadn’t yet returned from school and you should have at least ten minutes ago.

With slightly panic-filled eyes, he took in the scene of the outside, with vendors' tables blowing every which way and the rain beating down like a merciless drum.

Without wasting another second, he practically flew to the door and hurriedly shrugged on his coat before quickly swiping an umbrella and rushing outside.

As soon as the door opened, he was forced to tighten his grip on the umbrella in fear of it blowing away in the strong winds.

“Y/n?” He began to call in a frenzy.

You were only nine years old and he had been stupid enough to allow you to travel the dangerous streets of London all by yourself because he couldn’t take five minutes out of his day to ensure that you were safe.

“Y/n?” Hardly any people were out in the storm, most having sought out shelter by then, and for the first time in a long time, Sherlock Holmes was truly becoming terrified.

Anything could have happened to you during or even before the storm, and he would hold himself responsible for the rest of his life if that were the case.

“Y/n!”

Your ears perked up at the sound. It seemed so far away, so soft, like the light at the end of a very long tunnel.

For a moment, you had thought you made it up, until it sounded again, “Y/n?”

You were finally able to lift your head from your knees, and there, like a knight in soaked armor, stood your brother, staring down at you with wide eyes as his chest heaved up and down in pants, like he had run a marathon to get to you.

“Sherlock?” You asked shakily, teeth rattling from the cold.

“Oh, Y/n,” He breathed out, immediately crouching down and scooping you up into his arms. He had long since lost the umbrella, or he would have flung it to the side without a care.

Though his shirt was drenched through like yours, his chest somehow still held a warmth that you automatically nestled into as he picked up his pace to get the two of you back home.

When you finally did get back, he kicked the door shut behind him and hurried over to the couch near the fire, gently resting you on there before scrambling around to try and find some blankets to cover you with.

By the time your chills had eventually subsided, your brother was sitting on the table in front of you, eyes worriedly raking over your body over and over again.

“Sherlock-“

“I am so sorry,” He interrupted you. And though you were young, you were taken aback, because your brother never apologized. He would always make up things in a different way, like buying you candy or making you your favorite food, “I never should have let you walk home all by yourself.”

He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, “I promise, I will never put my cases before your own needs again.”

Without thinking much of it, you threw the blankets aside and leapt towards your brother with outstretched arms, him catching you with ease, “It’s okay,” You whispered into the clothing of his shoulder.

He shook his head stubbornly, pulling away slightly so you could look him in the eyes, “I never meant to do that.”

“I know,” You replied, smiling softly at him.

He smiled back, relaxing slightly when he finally came to terms with the fact that you were no longer in danger, “Come on,” He said, lifting you up and spinning you around a little so that giggles escaped your lips, “Let’s go make some warm food.”

Detectives 🕵️‍♂️- @your-local-questioning-agender @popfishjr @spadecentral @gengen64

[freckles-things]

Introduction / Masterlist

So, I guess it's finally time to introduce myself. It might be 7 years too late, but better late than never, right?

Julia | 25

Pan, so this blog is lgbtqi+ safe :)

This is my side blog, so I follow and like from @potterheadandsherlocked

I love writing, art and travelling. I also enjoy reading and appreciate photography and architecture.

I try to treat everyone I meet with kindness and respect, if you do decide to contact me, please do the same.

I am open to meeting new friends/mutuals and talking to others on a personal level. Please do not send unsolicited nsfw messages or content to me.

This blog might contain nsfw content, and is not suitable for users under the age of 18.

Asks: Go nuts! Question about my works? Yes! Request for a little drabble? Sure! Imagine requests? I will try, but I am a very slow writer. :’) 

Fandoms I write for: Criminal Minds; NCIS; BBC Sherlock; BBC Merlin; Harry Potter; Good Omens; The Sandman; Enola Holmes; Bridgerton; Outlander; the Black magicians guild; Top Gun; Supernatural

I also write for celebrities as long as they haven't explicitly stated that they're uncomfortable with it. If in doubt just message me and I'll let you know if I know who the person is and if I will write for them.

The same goes for fandoms. If there's a fandom not listed here you can always just ask. Chances are that I might know the show/film/etc. and feel confident that I might be able to write for the requested characters. The above list is just an indication for the fandoms I'm definitely comfortable writing for.

Masterlist

Aaron Hotchner

Camera Roll Materpost

Criminal Minds

Losing the Shadows (Aaron Hotchner x reader) | part 1 | part 2

In the Eye of a Hurricane (daughter!reader)

Imagine Hotch comforting you (platonic)

Imagine embarassing Hotch in front of the team

Imagine giving Hotch a sassy answer

Imagine secretly dating Hotch and him always teasing you when the team is around

Imagine Hotch looking at you walking towards the altar

Signs of the Past (Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader)

Derek Morgan

Of Dates and Cases

Imagine Derek calming you down (platonic)

Imagine being best friends with Derek and pranking Reid (platonic)

Something Domestic

Spencer Reid

Imagine having a nightmare and calling Reid (can be read as paring or platonic)

Imagine meeting Reid and going to be his best friend (platonic)

You are Weird | part 1 (platonic)

Imagine Reid trying to save you from an unsub

Imagine surprising Spencer on a hard day and giving him a backrub

Imagine Dating Reid

David Rossi

Imagine bickering with Rossi

BAU!Team

Out of Time (BAU!Team x reader) | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Moodboards

Harry Potter

Severus Snape

Imagine duelling with Severus Snape

Draco Malfoy

The Beauty of your Smile (Draco Malfoy x reader)

Imagine Draco always sending you hidden messages

BBC Sherlock

James Moriarty

Imagine dating Moriarty

Sherlock Holmes

Sherlock stopping work at crime scenes to answer your text

Imagine Sherlock telling you that he loves you

Imagine being Sherlock's and John's roommate

Stolen Love (Sherlock Holmes x Reader)

Fantastic Beats

Imagine having a pet niffler

NCIS

Nightly Disturbance (Jenny Sherpard x Gibbs)

Anthony DiNozzo

Imagine being Tony's best friend and getting sassy with Gibbs (platonic)

Ziva David

Being best friends with Ziva would include

Abby Sciuto

Imagine Abby calling you in to help her with a computer problem to McGee's dismay (platonic)

The Joker

Imagine the Joker having a soft spot for you

Lucifer (TV)

Lucifer Morningstar

Rescued by the Devil

[runwiththerain]

hellooooo :]

this is my intro post !

welcome to my lil corner of the internet. it is a safe space that you can always call home <3

my main blog is mostly a hub for all my sideblogs and other stuff. it has no theme and is mostly reblogs

[if you've read this, please give it a like <3]

------------------------------------------------

basic information

hi! my name is percy/perce/perseus/persephone and my pronouns are he/they/she [please do not use it/its or neos/xenos]

i'm 14 and i'm genderfluid/aroace. i'm also neurodivergent and have been diagnosed with autism and anxiety among other things

some of my main interests are marauders, riordanverse, osemanverse, stranger things, ever after high, enola holmes, brooklyn 99, the good place, stardew valley, taylor swift, conan gray, anson seabra, spotify, music, orchestra, choir, writing, winter, cats, netflix and pinterest

my dms are always open! and feel free to send me random asks to get to know me better! in general i'll try to respond quickly but with school and family it's hard to! i do not hate you!

dnis: racist, homophobic, terf, bigoted in general, but also harringrove/billy stans, mileven, snape apologists, people in the marauders fandom who overlook the women and nsfw blogs

we do not support jkr here !!!!!

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my tags, sideblogs and links

my tags:

#rwtr: main tag ig

#rwtr originals: my original posts

#rwtr mecore: stuff about me/that i relate to

#rwtr asks: my asks

#rwtr ask games: ask games

#rwtr writing: my writing

#rwtr music: my music spam/spotify links

#rwtr tag games: tag games that i participate in

#rwtr sideblogs: bc i have too many

#*insert sideblog*: that said sideblog

#rwtrs loves: my moots

#rwtrs love *insert name*: ur moot tag

my sideblogs: [this is where i will post my fandom specific content, sidenote: i am a multishipper]

daily journal ig: planetpercy [mostly og posts]

ever after high: maddiedarlingandchase

marauders: mirrorballjamespotter

music: feelslikewehadmatchingwounds [mainly conan, taylor, olivia, cavetown, gracie, alec, anson, etc. but also whatever i feel like]

my story/oc spam: thewallflowersstory

osemanverse: toricharlieolly

relatable posts: nowimjustajigsaw [where i put posts so i don't spam my main]

riordanverse: percypipesbesties

stranger things: willelmaxfriendship

taylor swift: somebodylosestheirmind [gaylor]

my other links:

ao3 [i occasionally post fics]

osemanverse discord [dm me if you want my discord acc]

pinterest [i started a new acc so it's basically empty lol]

pronouns page [it has more on my names and preferred terms and labels and such]

spotify [i am an addict and it's a problem, i have over 4,000 liked songs and 400 playlists]

uquiz masterlist [for all my uquizzes that i've made]

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fandom specific stuff

ever after high: maddie hatter, darling charming, chase redford, lizzie hearts, alistair wonderland, briar beauty, cerise hood, raven queen, rapple, dapple, huntlynn, dexven, lizziexmaddie, kittyxlizzie, hopperxbriar, lizziexdarig, ravenxcerise, maddiexkitty, ravenxmaddie, aroace maddie

marauders: james potter, pandora ollivander, regulus black, sirius black, remus lupin, lily evans, marlene mckinnon, xeno lovegood, minerva mcgonagall, poppy pomfrey, jily, jegulus, jegulily, wolfstar, pandalily, pandamarylily, marylily, dorlene, minervaxpoppy, platonic jily, platonic prongsfoot, platonic moonwater

osemanverse: [i've read everything] charlie spring, olly spring, darcy olsson, elle argent, nellie, tori spring, michael holden, aled last, frances janvier, bliss lai, lister bird, georgia warr, sunil jha, rooney bach, narlie, taoelle, tarcy, sprolden, daled, rowanxbliss, listerxjimmy, pipxrooney, sunilxjason, qpr georgiaxroony, platonic charliexelle, qpr sprolden, qpr francesxaled

riordanverse: percy jackson, annabeth chase, piper mclean, leo valdez, reyna ramirez arellano, will solace, hazel levesque, rachel dare, magnus chase, alex fierro, mallory keen, tj, sally jackson, percabeth, pipabeth, shelper, theyna, solangelo, frazel, fierrochase, platonic percyxpiper, platonic leoxannabeth, platonic piperxleo, platonic willxrachel

stranger things: el hopper, will byers, max mayfield, lucas sinclair, robin buckley, steve harrington, nancy wheeler, joyce byers, jim hopper, byler, elmax, elumax, lumax, ronance, steddie, jargyle, jopper, platonic stobin, platonic madwheeler, platonic elmike, willel twims

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favourite music stuff

[i also listen to classical music and soundtracks]

artists: taylor swift, conan gray, alec benjamin, anson seabra, one direction, olivia rodrigo, lovelytheband, cavetown, girl in red, harry styles, 5 seconds of summer, louis tomlinson, why don't we, ajr, the neighbourhood, panic at the disco, all time low, fall out boy, arctic monkeys and set it off

songs: wonderland by taylor swift, august by taylor swift, dancing with our hands tied by taylor swift, the great war by taylor swift, champagne problems by taylor swift, the exit by conan gray, jigsaw by conan gray, broken by lovelytheband, devil town by cavetown, we made it by david hugo, walked through hell by anson seabra, come close by anson seabra and youth by troye sivan

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finally, to end this long-ass post [that may or may not have took me an hour to make], here are some reminders :]

please drink some water, stay hydrated!

please eat some food, even if your brain thinks your body doesn't deserve it

sleep if it is past 10pm or before 7am xx

go to the bathroom, if you need to

have a shower, if you need to and can /nf

brush your teeth/hair, if you need to and can /nf

take a break, relax, if you have been working for a while

slow progress is still progress

healing/recovery isn't linear, there will be good days ad bad days

you are loved <3 if not by anyone, but me

it will get better, somehow, even if you don't believe it

please stay safe y'all, ilysm xx

[froggywritesstuff]

character list

the title is self explanatory. this is a list of the characters i'll write for. it'll probably change over time, and if you see a character you'd like but don't see them on the list, just ask cause i might've forgotten about them

Hamilton

Eliza Schuyler

Angelica Schuyler

Peggy Schuyler

Maria Reynolds

Alexander Hamilton

John Laurens

Philip Hamilton

Lafayette

Hercules Mulligan

James Madison

Thomas Jefferson

Aaron Burr

Umbrella Academy

Viktor Hargreeves

Diego Hargreeves

Klaus Hargreeves

Allison Hargreeves

Luther Hargreeves

Five Hargreeves

Ben Hargreeves (Umbrella or Sparrow)

Sloane Hargreeves

Jayme Hargreeves

Stranger Things

Will Byers (non female readers only)

Mike Wheeler

Lucas Sinclair

Dustin Henderson

Eleven Hopper

Max Mayfield

Robin Buckley (non male readers only)

Nancy Wheeler

Jonathan Byers

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

21 Chump Street

Justin Laboy

The Goldfinch

Boris Pavlikovsky

Theodore Decker

Marvel

Peter Parker (any actor)

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Sam Wilson

Makkari

Sersi

Sprite (platonic only)

Steven Grant

Marc Spector

Layla El-Faouly

America Chavez (non male readers only)

Kate Bishop

Yelena Belova (platonic only)

Shuri

Namor

Riri Williams

X-Men

Mystique

Kitty Pryde

Peter Maximoff

Rogue

In The Heights (movie version)

Usnavi de la Vega

Vanessa 

Nina Rosario

Benny

Sonny de la Vega 

Heathers

Veronica Sawyer

JD (Jason Dean)

Heather Chandler

Heather McNamara

Heather Duke

John Doe

John Doe

Ride The Cyclone

Noel Gruber (male or nb readers only)

Ocean O'Connel Rosenburg

Mischa Bachinski

Constance Blackwood

Ricky Potts

Hatchetfieldverse

Paul Matthews

Emma Perkins

Ted Spankoffski

Bill Woodard

Ruth Fleming

Pete Spankoffski

Richie Lipschitz

Max Jagerman

Grace Chasity

Lex Foster

Ethan Green

Hannah Foster (platonic only)

Heartstopper

Charlie Spring (non female readers only)

Nick Nelson

Tara Jones (non male readers only)

Darcy Olsson (non male readers readers only)

Elle Argent

Tao Xu (non male readers only(headcanoning him as bi or pan is disrespectful and transphobic))

Tori Spring

Imogen Heaney

Isaac Henderson (platonic only)

Do Revenge

Eleanor Levetan (non male readers only)

Drea Torres

Deadpool

Wade Wilson/Deadpool

Wednesday

Wednesday Addams

Enid Sinclair

Bianca Barclay

Xavier Thorpe

Ajax Petropolus

Eugene Otinger

(young) Morticia Addams

(young) Gomez Addams

Beetlejuice

Lydia Deetz

Tomorrow When The War Began

Ellie Linton

Lee Takkam

Fiona Maxwell

Homer Yannos

Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse/Across the Spider-Verse

Miles Morales

Gwen Stacy

Pavitr Prabhakar

Hobie Brown

Margo Kess

Miles G Morales (earth 42)

Miguel O’Hara

Maze Runner

Thomas

Newt (non female readers only)

The Broken Hearts Gallery

Lucy Gulliver

Nadine (non male readers only)

Nick Danielson

Treasure Planet

Jim Hawkins

Enola Holmes

Enola Holmes

Lord Tewkesbury

Turning Red

Mei Mei

Miriam

Abby

Priya

Raising Dion

Nicole Warren

Tevin Wakefield

Dion Warren (platonic only)

Julie and the Phantoms

Julie Molina

Luke Patterson

Reggie Peters

Alex Mercer (non female readers only)

Flynn

Carrie

Abbott Elementary

Janine Teagues

Jacob Hill (non female readers only)

Gregory Eddie

Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Jake Peralta

Amy Santiago

Rosa Diaz

Love Victor

Victor Salazar (non female readers only)

Benji (non female readers only)

Felix Weston

Pilar Salazar

Lake Meriwether

Lucy

Mia Brooks

Andrew

In Treatment

Eladio

Laila

Spree

Kurt Kunkle

Once Upon a Time

Emma Swan

Regina Mills

Killian Jones

Mary Margaret Blanchard

David Nolan

Henry Mills

Mulan (non male readers only)

Graham

Neal Cassidy

Peter Pan

Jefferson

Dash and Lily

Dash

Lily

Boomer

Juno

Juno MacGuff

Paulie Bleeker

Summer Days Summer Nights

Debbie Espinoza

Frankie Espinoza

Scream (1 through 6)

Sidney Prescott

Billy Loomis

Mickey Altieri

Roman Bridger

Jill Roberts

Charlie Walker

Sam Carpenter

Tara Carpenter

Amber Freeman

Chad Meeks-Martin

Mindy Meeks-Martin

Quinn Bailey

Venom

Eddie Brock

Honest Thief

Ramon Hall

Beth Hall

Wild Child

Poppy Moore

Kate

Drippy

Freddie Kingsley

Monsters and Men

Manny Ortega

Marisol Ortega

Ghostbusters: Afterlife

Trevor Spengler

Phoebe Spengler (platonic only)

Error 143

Micah Yujin

Community

Abed Nadir

Troy Barnes

Annie Edison

Jeff Winger

Britta Perry

The Obession

Logan

Delilah

The New Girl

Lia Setiawan

Stacey Hoffman

Mythic Quest

Poppy Li

Brad Bakshi

Adventure Time

Finn

Princess Bubblegum

Marceline

Marshall Lee

Prince Bubblegum

Flame Princess

School Spirits

Madison

Simon

Charley (non female readers only)

Wally

Rhonda

Dungeons and Dragons: Honour Among Thieves

Simon Aumar

Disventure Camp

Aiden (non fem readers only)

James (non fem readers only)

Grease: Rise of the Pink Ladies

Jane Facciano

Olivia Valdovinos

Nancy Nakagawa

Cynthia Zdunowski

Richie Valdovinos

Ted Lasso

Ted Lasso

Roy Kent

Jamie Tartt

Keeley Jones

Sam Obisanya

Transformers: Rise of the Beasts

Noah Diaz

Elena Wallace

Mirage

Helluva Boss

Blitzø

Stolas (non female readers only)

Loona

Millie

Moxxie

Octavia

Verosika Mayday

Fizzarolli

Asmodeus

Hazbin Hotel

Charlie Morningstar

Vaggie (non male readers only)

Angel Dust (non female readers only)

Husk

Alastor (platonic only)

Vox

Lucifer

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (rise + mutant mayhem + tmnt 2007 + tmnt 2012)

Donnie

Mikey

Raph

Leo

April

The After Party

Yasper Lennov

Space Force

Tony Scarapiducci

Renfield

Teddy Lobo

Robert Montague Renfield

Undercovers

Bill Hoyt

Amazing Digital Circus

Jax

Parks and Recreation

Leslie Knope

Ben Wyatt

April Ludgate

Andy Dwyer

Jean-Ralphio Saperstein

Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja

Randy Cunningham (18+ people DNI unless requesting platonic stories)

The Earliest Show

Josh Bath

House of Lies

Clyde Oberholt

Mean Girls (movie + musical + movie musical)

Cady Heron

Regina George

Gretchen Wieners

Karen Smith/Shetty

Janis Ian/Sarkisian/Imi'ike (non male readers only)

Damian Hubbard (non female readers only)

Warm Bodies

R

Peep World

Nathan Meyerwitz

Your Boyfriend

Peter Dunbar