The Perditorian and The Detective

A Little Game of Ours-SH

My sister never ceases to amaze me.

My disguises never seem to fool her. Anyone else, even Mycroft, would have and has. And yet...

... somehow, she knew.

It makes me question the limits of my ability in this area. Is it the disguise's deficiency? It's becoming increasingly difficult to come up with new, better, and more elaborate disguises just to attempt to fool Enola. I make sacrifices where I need to for whatever case I'm on. It pains me that I can't design it soully for the sake of our little game. Do I need to disguise my proportions better? There is only so much I can do for my height. Perhaps my mannerisms give me away? I think I'm starting to obsess over it. Dr. Watson thinks it's probably for the best, seeing as it has kerbed my slumps between cases. I often find my mind slipping not to how the person I'm surveying will see (or often rather not see) me, but to how to evade Enola's detection. Most unhelpful and unnecessary.

It honestly brings a taste of joy to my life. In part, just knowing Enola is safe and, in part, being astounded by her brilliance. I'm just glad she has stopped running from Mycroft and I.

It always seems to happen when I least expect it. I'm on a case, narrowing in on a conclusion, and I slip out to prove my hypothesis, and suddenly there she is. She's usually careful not to expose me. She also makes it clear that she knows it's me. More recently, she has taken to dropping little notes, sometimes right into my pockets! They say various things, like "Nice hat", "You look terrible with a beard", or "Are you eating enough?" (The answer to which at the time was no, but I had other engagements and couldn't bring myself tell her, though I suspect it was rhetorical), never anything in need of immediate attention, so I generally read them at my leisure.

On one particular occasion, I was dressed in my newest rendition of a beggar (as I had thought Enola would recognize my old one too quickly). I had been staking out a street to see if a hypothesis of mine was correct. I hadn't even seen her until she stared me right in the eye and dropped something, probably her note, in my hat. I was startled, though I hope it didn't show. "Hope" is not a vary controlled method. The man I was looking for showed himself, said a word to his driver, and walked down the street. I was spared from the spiral of inadequacy my near blunder had caused. After allowing for an inconspicuous following distance, I reach for the contents of my hat. As I suspected, there was a note... and a candy (I guess she knew). I popped the candy into my mouth, I saved the note for later, and off I went to catch a crook.

It wasn't until later that night that I read the note. The paper and ink were like that of all the other notes, nothing new to be learned of her location, well-being, etc. Although the state of the note suggests it was written beforehand. Did she know where I was going to be? How?

The note read:
I can always tell. -E.H.