CHAPTER ONE
nowhere to be found
THE AIR WAS fresh entering her nostrils as she stared tiredly at the ceiling, finding the pale color more interesting than actually standing up and doing something productive. Her blue eyes wanted to flutter shut, thanks to going to bed at three in the morning because of the book Eudoria gifted her was worth enough for some sleep deprivation.
She was almost melted against the mattress, wrapped between her covers when her eyelids were almost meeting each other, she heard the light footsteps of someone, by the rhythm she swore it was Enola. She sat on the bed, stretching with some of her bones creaking.
The door swung open, revealing her sister's frame with a notorious frown upon her face. The redhead yawned sniffling a little bit, but frowning at Enola's not usual demeanor.
"What's wrong, Nola?" her voice came out just as a morning voice would be.
Enola was pacing in their shared room biting her already short nails. Florence yawned again and sat with her feet touching the wooden floor. She waited a moment and stood going to where Enola was pacing, taking her shoulders and looking at her questioningly and asked again. "Enola, what's wrong?" she looked straight into her hazel eyes.
"I've been all morning looking for mom, she's not here, she just left and I-I don't know what's happening," she stammered under Florence's gaze.
"How come? Did she leave? H-How?" she blurted, her arms falling to her sides biting her lip. Eudoria wasn't someone to leave just like that, she wouldn't leave them just like that.
Florence's mind starting thinking about every kind of possibility, she could literally feel the gears working in her head. Her blue eyes met Enola's one more time before the brown-haired girl engulfed her in a hug. And then Florence remembered something very important. "Today's your birthday, Noly. Happy birthday! You're sixteen now! I'm still older than you by one year, you know," she tried to lighten the mood hugging her sister tighter, something she returned.
"Thank you, Flor," she chuckled and they parted, and just when Florence was going to say something else about Eudoria she just stopped, keeping it for herself so she could think about it better.
Enola gave her a little smile, but she knew her, how wouldn't she? She had known her for all her life, in fact, Florence arrived the Holmes household a year before Enola was born, so practically she was her older sister, more than her own.
"It's insanely late, I stayed up reading the book she gifted me," Florence mumbled.
"I know, and if I were you I would start dressing, lunch is almost ready," she said with a smile, Enola just walked out of the room with her heels clicking the floor, she was worried as hell, so worried about Eudoria. Where would she have gone? Why she would leave them just like that?
She definitely wouldn't have time to figure something out if she constantly had Mycroft over her shoulder complaining about everything. Because they were going to arrive in one week, and with they, we talk about Mycroft and Sherlock.
Every kind of things rushed in her mind as she stood zoned out in the middle of the room. Her feet brought her quickly to the bathroom door into their room, stopping in her tracks, her eyes then traveling slowly to the book sitting on her nightstand next to a melted candle.
She pursed her lips, putting a strand of red hair behind her ear, shaking her head at the thoughts that crossed her mind.
JUST AS ENOLA told her that day, she was nowhere to be found. And it absolutely wasn't a kidnap because they would have heard something, especially Florence who stayed up till late in the morning the day she disappeared.
But she couldn't think about that now, she had to focus on not falling off the bike, they sure knew how to ride them, but it wasn't exactly their specialty. Florence was a little bit, just a little bit better than Enola. They just preferred running, but they'd be so late and out of breath, almost fainting.
But she liked the way the wind felt on her skin, and how the sun tickled her freckles, making them rise when she had her eyes almost closed. She liked how fresh she felt.
They were pedaling as fast as they could, but everything was so calm until the ground greeted Enola's face as she tripped. Florence stopped. She left a chuckled as Enola did the same. "Are you ok?"
Enola laughed nodding. "You have something," she pointed to her face. "Here," Enola wiped as hard as she could the dirty side of her face.
"How about now?" she asked.
But Florence let out another chuckle. "You still have right there," she pointed to her cheekbone, and the girl started rubbing again but in the wrong place.
"My god, your cheek is as red as my hair and you still have dirt," she took out her hand from her lace glove, noticing how Enola wasn't wearing hers since she lost them the day they were with Eudoria in the woods for self-defense classes.
She rubbed a little bit, she definitely would need to wash her face. "Better."
"Thank you," Enola smiled at her. Florence did the same.
They continued their way to the station, pedaling as fast as they could, Florence swore she would have sore legs after that, everything for going to take Sherlock and one of the persons she most despised, Mycroft.
They had quite the relationship because Florence had that my mouth won't stay shut if you talk such rubbish temper, let's say emotions have colors, well, she always had that drop of red in her, just like her hair.
And Sherlock, her third favorite Holmes, after Enola and Eudoria, she wasn't going to add Mr. Holmes to the list since she didn't remember a lot of him. Well, her third favourite Holmes, she even remembered she had the tiniest stupid infatuation on Sherlock that only lasted two years, she still cringed about it.
And let's say Mycroft wasn't even in her «Top Favourite Holmes» list.
At the station, their steps were fast and gracile, just as Eudoria taught them, with a hint of confidence.
She and the brown-haired girl, saw from afar two men, that they absolutely recognized, Even though they haven't seen them for a long time.
But it was evident they didn't see who they were, because they just walked past them, making both teens look at each other.
They turned around. "Mr. Holmes!" Enola called.
"And Mr. Holmes..." the redhead completed.
The men turned to look at them, to which Florence smiled to the one she liked more, well, to the only one she liked. It was quite evident her preference.
She fiddled which a loose string of the hem of her gloves, her red strands that were out of her bun swaying softly. The day was sunny but they always had the refreshing breeze flowing through their coats and gowns.
"Yes," the taller brother inquired stopping on his tracks, looking between both girls.
They walked to them, the heels of their shoes clicking against the ground. "You sent for us?" Enola said smiling.
"What she said, you sent a telegram," Florence continued looking between them.
"Asked us to meet you here?" Enola said trying them to recognize them. And let's say Florence was getting impatient.
Sherlock was everything you could imagine, a detective, a scholar, a chemist, he even played the violin! But his mind seemed to be quite blurry since it took him various minutes to know who they were. And she didn't have another word to describe Mycroft more than an absolute prick.
"Enola, Florence," finally the so-called deductive thinker remembered, giving them a smile.
"My god," the man with the black hat blurted, looking at them disapprovingly. "Look at you. You're such a mess."
He stepped closer looking at Florence but then at Enola, his gaze going to her hair, to her dress, and to her hands, making Enola look at herself. The only thing Florence could do was roll her eyes, not caring if Mycroft noticed.
And how she predicted, he saw her gesture. "And it seems like you still have the same bad conduct, Florence," he spoke.
Her cheeks got red, but not in an I'm flattered way, more in an I can't fucking stand you way.
"And it seems you still have that toxic controlling behaviour you always had, you can take the man out the toxicity but not the toxicity out the man, don't ya' think so Sherlock?" she said innocently batting her lashes.
The mentioned gave her a warning look because it was clear that Mycroft was getting fed up. Mycroft ripped his gaze from her to look at Enola. She was mainly surprised by the fact he didn't talk back at her sassy response.
"Where's your hat and your gloves?" he asked Enola. "And where's your hat too?"
"I don't like hats," she simply responded, changing her weight to her other foot.
"Well, I have a hat," Enola started, she knew Enola couldn't stand hats. "It just makes my head itch. And I have no gloves..." she said smiling nervously yet brightly.
"She has no gloves?" Mycroft asked Sherlock, and he only shrugged.
"Plainly not, Mycroft," the detective said.
"We didn't send for you, silly girl," Mycroft's stupid mouth said. And she looked at him like somehow he had a second head. "We sent for the carriage."
"You can't call your sister that after not seeing her in a long time! That's extremely rude, did you know that Mycroft?" the redhead said annoyed.
He didn't pay attention to what she said, gaining a scoff from Florence and Enola placing her hand on her right shoulder. Florence swore the years made Mycroft more and more insufferable as they passed. To keep her mouth shut for a moment she bit the flesh of the inside of her cheek. "We sent for the carriage. Did you at least bring it?"
«No,» she thought.
"The carriage?"
"Yes," Mycroft responded.
"What carriage would you be wanting? Because I have a few in mind..." one thing she loved of Enola was how cool she sometimes could manage a situation, she wasn't like that because if she wouldn't have been biting the inside of her cheek she would be already screaming at the man with the mustache.
"The carriage I pay for."
By that moment, Sherlock and Florence were like the bystanders. "Right," Enola said, her smile not disappearing. "I think you may have us confused with another house," she explained, and this time she had to bite harder her cheek to not let out a laugh at the brown-haired girl's brother face.
Sherlock turned and spoke. "Boy, fetch us a carriage."
"Quickly."
"My God, I'm going to kill him already," the redhead whispered to Enola, gaining a little chuckle from her.
This was going to be a hell of a ride, and she will have to bite her other cheek.
VIC SPEAKS !
HEY! First, I want to say thank you for all the support this book is getting, really, thank you so much!
Second, I really did Mycroft dirty here, but my good fellas, he's a bitch and I can't stand him and that mustache, but I love Sam tho.
Well, don't forget to vote and comment on what do you think about this! And I'm so sorry if there are any grammar mistakes!
Lil self-promo time: Go and check my IT 2017 story, Everest, pairing my male OC with Richie Tozier and my Louis Partridge story called Lovely Vincent.
With all the love,
Vic.