The June Bug (Enola Holmes Fanfic)

221b Baker Street

"Sherlock, you have a guest and you haven't even offered her a cup of tea."  Enola scolds him. 

"Oh, yes. I don't have guests very often, you'll have to forgive me, Miss Lowell." He begins to exit the room with fewer strides than I would have predicted. It was clear he didn't have guests very often- papers were strewn about the room in a neatly organised mess, in the adjacent room there were jars and pots filled with goodness knows what, and the place was in dire need of some windows opening. Though I didn't mind, it had a homely, lived-in aura that you could sink into. 

"It's Victoria, please, and don't trouble yourself. You've done so much for me already. I can't thank you enough," I had never been shown such kind hospitality in my entire life. Though I have not been a flower seller my entire life, albeit it is my first job, most people have looked down upon me. They view me as inferior because I was born a woman. Women viewed, and still do view, me as competition to their potential husbands, and especially since the scandal, my family is viewed as outcasts in society. 

The corners of his mouth pulled up slightly, into what, I can only assume, is his interpretation of a smile, "Very well." 

"Thank you again for your help, Victoria. You know, you have quite a throw. There may be a potential for you to be an excellent fighter in your future," Enola winked at me, teasing me about our shared trauma with our near-death experience. 

"So you fought those gangstas? Enola, how many times have I told you: just run away? You don't have to engage in combat at every opportunity you get," He chastises her with his brotherly instincts oozing out of every pore in his body. They both seem to be in the habit of scolding each other.  It must be a brother-sister thing, I ponder.

"Actually, we couldn't outrun them. We had to do something to hold them off." I interject.

He stares at me for what seems like an eternity boring his pupils into me again. I become very self-conscious. Eventually, he prises his eyes away from me, diverting his attention to Enola, "Next time, don't go alone."

"Do you think I'm taking Tukesbury with me? He can't even fight!" Enola exclaims. She huffs to a stand and stares him down, waiting for him to budge. She's braver than I am. We're both very petite and he's, well, not. He could very easily pick her up and place her wherever he wanted. However, from what I've seen of his character so far, he wouldn't even imagine doing something so forceful.

"It's just a precaution. They're less likely to try anything smart if you have something of an escort. You don't have to do everything alone, Enola." There was that frown again that was so authoritative yet so comforting.

I shake myself out of the daydream and remember where I am, "So what case are you working on?" 

They both stop their bickering and turn to face me. A brief silence falls across the room. 

"Oh, come on. I almost got killed today, the least you could do is explain what on earth is going on?"

"My brother is very particular about who he shares case details with." She glances up at him but he continues to stare back at me. I can't stand the tension any longer. I break eye contact and point toward the kitchen.

"Anything to do with what's in those jars." I saunter over to them to satisfy my curiosity. Bugs. Fantastic.

"Please don't touch anything." He enters the room at an alarming speed.

"My brother is very particular about who touches his things too. But don't worry, I do it all the time." 

"Enola. Stop. Please." He exasperates.