Sherlock walks down the empty hallway, his footsteps echoing around him. It had been almost five days since Enola's surgery, but the hours of waiting anxiously by her side blur together in Sherlock's mind into an endless memory. Once Enola's condition had stabilized, Mycroft insisted upon having her recover in his manor. While the house itself still felt strange and unfamiliar to Sherlock, he appreciated the privilege of privacy it allowed. He had hated seeing Enola at the hospital, being swarmed by nurses and doctors in the hospital like wasps at a picnic. In the white room, in her thin nightgown; she looked like a corpse at a morgue. At least here, she simply looks like she's asleep. Like she's going to wake up.
Sherlock and Mycroft had agreed to take turns having 12 hour shifts watching over her. What with her being unconscious, this mainly involved staying in her room while they worked and occasionally taking her temperature or leaving while Eliza (Mycroft's maid and temporary nurse) cleaned and fed her. Sherlock took the night shift, since he was more accustomed to being awake during these hours, and Mycroft's work still involved frequent correspondence with other government officials (most of which occurred during the day).
When Sherlock entered Enola's room he was surprised to not find Mycroft watching over her, but instead Eliza delicately brushing the knots out of Enola's hair. As soon as she sees Sherlock she stands up and averts her eyes.
'Mr Holmes.'
'Where is Mycroft?' Sherlock asks, striding across the room to stand by Enola.
'Mr Holmes had to take leave to attend to business. He asked me to watch over Miss Holmes while he was absent.' Eliza explained. She was a timid girl, it was no wonder why Mycroft had hired her; she always kept to herself.
With a wave of his hand, Sherlock dismissed her. As he sat down on the seat that had been placed by the bedside, he contemplated what could possibly be so important for Mycroft to leave.
The two of them hadn't talked much since the day of the incident; they rather just fell into their natural roles. Sherlock began to investigate the case itself, further pursuing how and why Enola became involved in this, and Mycroft dealing with the issue as a government official. The few times they have spoken was to talk about the situation from a logistical standpoint. Talking about what Sherlock discovered and Watson's diagnosis'.
Their last discussion ended abruptly after Mycroft asked Sherlock why he was so sure Enola knew a man wrote the article just by reading it. The truth being that his conversation with their mother revealed as much; but as far as Mycroft is concerned that conversation never happened, and Sherlock would very much like to keep it this way.
In the early hours of the morning, Sherlock's attention was roused by the sound of a cab rolling up the gravel driveway. Hastily he leaves Enola's room, greeting his brother by the front door.
'Might I ask where you've been?' He snaps as Mycroft removes his hat and gloves in a calm and ordinary fashion. As he slips off his right glove with his left hand, a blue ink smudge is left on his palm. Curious. Mycroft usually only writes with black ink.
'I had work to attend to. I didn't think that was any of your business.'
'It is my business when you leave Enola unattended! What if she were to wake alone?'
'She did wake. At 5'o clock' Mycroft exclaims. He picks up his briefcase and walks past Sherlock, striding towards his study.
'WHAT? Enola woke and you didn't THINK TO TELL ME?'
'I'm telling you now.' He responds in a calm, cold voice.
Sherlock laughs, overwhelmed by irritation. 'Then what was so important that it required your urgent attention?'
Mycroft lays his briefcase on his desk, opening it and taking out papers. Immediately Sherlock recognises some of the contents as Enola's keepsakes that were in her desk. He takes a letter from the case, turning it over in his hand.
Before he can ask why Mycroft collected these he sees forms and bank statements, written in blue ink, under the rest of the memorabilia. He takes them out and reads them over quickly. And then again, to insure he wasn't mistaken the first time.
'Mycroft? What is this?'
The forms detail transactions between a Dr Ragostine and Mycroft. Dr Ragostine is the more than a pseudonym Enola uses; he's an entire person she created. He's the name under which all of her businesses are filled - her carriage business, her pediatrician business, her lodgings business and her home. She also plays his wife (Mrs Ragostine) and his secretary (Miss Meshle). Yet according to these documents he just sold all of the above to Mycroft.
'You thought I was lying when I said Enola was no longer your ward?' Mycroft turns away, opening the globe and retrieving a bottle of whiskey from it.
'No but. But we were wrong; she didn't run away.'
'That changes nothing.' He pours himself a glass, drinking it in front of the burning hearth. 'The girl is still wild.'
'"The girl" is our sister.' Sherlock snaps. 'And I don't understand why you're doing this now? She has shown that she is capable and happy-'
'AND SHE ALMOST DIED, SHERLOCK.' Mycroft turns to face his brother, his face dark and emotionless. 'She almost died because of us.'
He walks over to the globe, refilling his now empty glass. 'Not a word to her about this. Or anyone.'