𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 ❀ ᴛᴇᴡᴋᴇꜱʙᴜʀʏ₁

❀𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞❀

My choice looms above my head like a dark cloud as I follow my siblings into the hall, the click of Ms. Harrison's shoes hitting the cold tile floor echoing around us. Sherlock's words play through my mind on repeat.

I want you to choose for yourself, not for me, or Enola, or even Mycroft.

I wish I could, but it seems my choice is being made for me. Freedom will never be guaranteed at Ferndell. And what is freedom when you have nothing to do with it? My sister will be here, and I will be there. As much as my resent can grow day by day, Sherlock was right about something else.

Enola needs you.  She hates to admit it, but she does.  She would fall apart if you weren't there.

And so would I without her.

Remembering the past can be hard, but its necessary to understand the present and move towards the future.

He read my diary. He knows what I have been thinking all along. He tells me I have the choice, but he's guiding me towards one option. And that option is staying with my sister.

He's telling me to forget everything she's done, every moment, every I want, I think, and more. Sherlock is showing me something I've known all along, and that is that I have to stay with my sister. I don't quite know whether it is love or obligation, but whatever it is, we are a package item. You can't have one without the other. And so I make my choice. It will be us against the world, even if my sister doesn't see it that way.

~

"You've missed supper, but no matter. You could do with losing a pound or two."

I almost take back my decision as soon as this old hag begins talking. I didn't have to tell my brother anything. If anyone asks, I will just say Sherlock instructed me to stay here. Nobody needs to know.

Enola shoots me a look as two girls around our age come forward with a pile of clothes. I accept mine with a smile, but the girl only nods and steps back.

If this is what is coming for me, count me out.

"The name Holmes," Ms. Hag- Harrison continues, "is coming to mean something in this country. At this school, you'll be given a chance to live up to it."

Enola begins to protest and is quickly interrupted. "And you can begin by closing your mouth. The next time you meet your brothers, they will have reason to be proud of you."

I can't believe this. Sherlock's already said he's proud of me, but I would never put voice to those words. I hate this woman so very much. She's your stereotypical British housewife, even though the "Ms." in her name hints that she's never been married.

I can't imagine why.

She offers us a tight lipped smile. "Welcome."

~

The next day passes in a blur. Everything is formal. We take the stairs quietly, no speaking, side by side with another girl.

And every class you can imagine!

In the most boring subjects possible.

Who needs to know how to "laugh politely?" All this "hahaha" is going to scare people off. I learn to walk with a textbook on top of my head. Headache lasts for hours. "What whim led white Whitney to whittle?" I guess tongue twisters are a way of speaking to nobles now. Embroidery? Forget it. This is pure madness. I don't even need to be a society girl to survive, to do anything really. I wish I had just gone home, with or without my sister.