"How many girls work here?" Enola asks.
We're walking through the factory with Bessie, the young girl smiles as we walk by a group of girls.
"I believe there's around five or six hundred of us now."
I notice a girl ahead of us, she's significantly shorter than the rest of us, and her hair is pulled back into pigtails. "What's the age requirement to work here?"
Bessie frowns, "They don't ask for your age."
We make it to the foreman who is checking everyone's mouths before allowing them in. I watch curiously as he prevents a woman from entering, she glares at me, and it's then that I notice how swollen her mouth is.
"New girls, sign in."
Enola and I take turns signing our names and wait for him to check our mouths.
Enola goes first, "What are you checking for?"
"Typhus."
He pushes Enola away and gestures for me to come forward. He grabs my face, forcing my mouth open, and then smirks. "You're not bad looking for a match girl."
I pull away from him in disgust and walk with Enola and Bessie. "Why must men be so disgusting?"
Bessie and Enola pair up while I work at the station behind them with an older woman. I can hear them whisper, but can't understand what they're saying.
Enola drops matches on the floor and the foreman slams his cane on to their table, "That's a penny off your wages!"
"She's just learning the way, Mr. Crouch."
"Well then she better learn quicker or I'm docking a penny off yours as well."
The man walks by me, brushing his arm against mine. It takes everything in me to not physically gag. I imagine puking on the job wouldn't go very well.
I see Enola sneak off while the foreman isn't looking and notice that she's heading towards the office upstairs. I look around anxiously and see that Mae is watching her as well, the two of us share a panicked look, but continue working.
She definitely knows something we don't, but why is she hiding it? Wouldn't she want her friend to be found?
~~°°••°°~~
"So here's what I've gathered, Sarah got into an argument with Mr. Crouch the day she disappeared. He accused her of stealing, and when I went into the office the owners were having a meeting, they were talking about a theif. I went through the books and there were some pages ripped out."
I listen to Enola as we walk through the streets, we're on our way to 'The Stag Antlers' the pub Sarah worked at.
"And when I asked Bessie how she managed to get into the office she said a fire had broke out at one of the workstations."
"Mae's workstation," I reply.
"Exactly."
"So they were working together? But why would they steal papers?"
"I don't know yet, but we'll look into it later," she replies.
We finally spot Mae ahead of us and quietly follow her. The girl stops suddenly and looks over her shoulder, Enola links arms with a random man while I hide behind a barrel.
She begins to walk again and the two of us quickly fall in step behind her. Mae walks into a shabby looking pub and Enola stops, "Let's wait a few minutes before going in."
Of course, the two of us are overly eager so we head inside exactly one minute later.
When we enter the building a man stops us, "Hello, dearies. Forget your tickets?"
Enola nods and the man laughs. "That's tuppence for sweet, cheating faces like yours."
We walk through the building, ignoring the flirty military men, and when we get to the floor in front of the stage an announcer yells. "Here she is!"
A woman jumps from a trapeze and lands on the stage in front of us, the crowd cheers loudly, and soon a group of women take the stage and start singing.
"There she is!" I yell to Enola.
Mae dances around the stage, she hasn't noticed us yet, so we duck down and sneak backstage.
A man approachs us, "Are you two the foolzers that took my pan stick?"
"No sir, we're looking for a-" the man cuts Enola off by walking away.
"What a charming lad," I say sarcastically.
Someone throws me against the wall, I open my eyes to see one of the dancer girls holding a knife to my throat. When I look over I see that Mae is doing the same to Enola.
"We know you helped her into the office, she took those pages. Why?"
Mae narrows her eyes, "Posh girls like you two don't belong in a fight like this."
I headbutt the girl in front of me, she stumbles back, so I run behind her, and wrap my arms around her, using her own hand to hold the knife against her throat.
Enola stares in shock but turns to Mae, "Lucky for us, we know how to fight."
"Now tell us, what does she know, and why is she hiding?"
Mae scoffs, "You two got more to ya than I thought."
A man stomps over to us, "What the hell is going on over here?! I need Mae on stage in thirty ticks and she's still dressed as a gent!"
Mae lets go of Enola, "Get them out of here."
I let go of the girl I'm holding and Mae pushes the blade of her knife, showing that it was actually fake. I touch my neck and feel small droplets of warm liquid, when I pull my hand away I realize that it's blood.
Why must I be so unlucky?
The man leads Enola and I away from the girls but Enola stops him, "Where did Sarah Chapman do her makeup?"
"Full of secrets that one, and not a bad actress. I'd have given her the boot if she weren't so good, but she did attract the men with big pockets."
So she was popular amongst the rich men? Rich men are the most dangerous of people, they can do anything they want, and pay their way to get out of the consequences.
This isn't a good sign.
"Which men?"
The man gives her a look and she sighs, giving him a few coins.
"There was this one gent, society type, and he came regular. Very keen on him she was. He'd send flowers, letters."
"And his name?"
He hold his hand out and she dumps more coins into his palm. The man greedily counts the coins and smirks, "Never gave one."
"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."
Enola and I leave the pub, she reads the letter we had found on Sarah's desk out loud. It was truly the most horrific poem I had ever heard.
"A poppy? Perhaps, that's his name?"
I take the letter from her and look over it, "Maybe. But, do you suppose she was running away with him, or away from him?"
"I hope it's the latter, his poetry is really bad."
The two of us laugh loudly but our laughter is interrupted by a loud clanging noise. The two of us look at each other in worry before whipping around to look behind us. I can see a small movement in the shadows behind us, but I'm known to have bad eyesight, so it could've been my eyes playing tricks on me.
Enola turns to me, "We must be alert at all times."
We start walking again and the clanging noise fades away. As we're walking down the street a man gets tossed in front of us.
"Be away with you, boy!"
The man grunts as he pushes himself to his feet, wobbling back and forth before standing up straight.
Enola scoffs, "Sherlock?!"
"Enola," he says in confusion.
"What are you doing here? There's scary people about."
Enola laughs, "Right, let me know when you see one."
The man looks around slowly and Enola steps closer. "Are you quite yourself, brother?"
So this is the famous Sherlock Holmes?
"It was just a disagreement over a glass of wine and whose it was. And," he pauses for a second, "I find that it's very difficult to move your limbs after a few glasses of wine."
"(Y/n), I hate to ask this, but could you help me get my brother home?"
"It's no problem at all."
The two of us wrap an arm around the man and he drapes his arms across our shoulders. Normally I would be disgusted at being this close to an unknown man, especially a drunk one, but I feel as though he's a good man.
Although, it could just be the fact that everyone talks so highly of him.
Enola calls a cab over and we somehow manage to get Sherlock into the carriage. The two of us sit across from him, watching as he fumbles with his pocket watch.
"And who might you be?" he asks.
Enola clears her throat, "This is, (Y/n) (L/n), she's my partner. Although, I'm sure you'll remember nothing of this conversation in the morning."
"Your partner? But she's just a foreigner."
"And you're just a silly drunken man," I snap back.
He grunts in response and leans against the door.
"I'm terribly sorry, I was hoping you'd meet Sherlock under better and more professional circumstances."
I laugh, "It's alright, my dad used to spend every night at the bar, so I'm quite familiar with drunken family members."
The cab stops and Enola and I not-so gracefully help Sherlock out. We lead Sherlock into the building, and it's now that I notice how attractive he is.
"Aha! We have made it home. Well done, Sherlock."
Enola rolls her eyes and we walk him over to a door. I let out a sigh, "This is apartment 221A"
"Yes, and I am 221B."
Enola and I share a pained look as Sherlock points to the stairs ahead of us, "Come on then, let's get to my apartment."
We walk him up the stairs and into his apartment. Enola lights the lantern and gasps at the messy room.
Sherlock throws his coat on the floor and falls on to the couch in front of us, "I don't usually imbibe you see. But I'm working on a new case, and it's proven rather tricky."
"Sherlock, this is such a mess," Enola says.
"It's perfect. Don't touch anything."
He hangs his leg off the couch, one of his arms is draped across his eyes. "Now hush, I'm trying to think. One should never be interrupted while thinking."
"Huh, you should-"
"Write that down?" Enola finishes.
She continues walking around the room while I stand by the door awkwardly. She beckons me over to her and I follow. We stare at the board in front of us, there are notes plastered across it with threads connecting them. Most of the notes however are just question marks.
"Sherlock's new case..."
"Interesting," I say quietly.
"What kind of case is this?" She asks.
Sherlock lifts his head up to look at us, "None of your business. I work alone."
He falls back on to the couch.
"I have to go now, what time should we meet?"
"Meet me here at eight," she says.
I tell her goodbye and walk to the door, stepping over the messy papers.
I look at Sherlock one last time before closing the door behind me.
I guess the paper's weren't wrong. Sherlock Holmes is indeed an extremely attractive man.