Hello all! For anyone interested, this is going to be an Enola Holmes fic just minus the majority of the Enola Holmes Mysteries plot (ages, story line, etc.) in fact, really, I'm just borrowing the name more than anything and placing the character in modern Sherlock 'cause, you know, the series is amazing. So please enjoy! And constructive criticism is welcomed, not any of the simple story hating bull.
Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own the high-functioning sociopath or Enola for that matter- I am simply borrowing for others (I hope) entertainment!
If someone had told her that she would be returning to England because of her brothers, she would have laughed and very seriously threatened to have them murdered. Never in a million years did she expect to find herself in this particular situation. In fact, she still didn't believe she was doing what she was doing; she was used to hiding in plain sight and removing anyone familiar from her range, but clearly the game had changed. So for that reason, she walked off the small plane she had taken from Amsterdam to London and walked through the vast airport without even glancing at anyone she didn't have to, called a cab and muttered the infamous number.
"To 221b Baker Street."
When Sherlock received a phone call off Mrs Hudson –the woman still didn't know how to text- he was highly surprised to find he had a client who was willing to hire his abilities.
It had only been a few months since the whole Magnusson incident and the media had had a wonderful time ruining his already tarnished reputation, so more often than not, he was spending time in the lab -out of the public's eye- doing as much as he could for the cases Lestrade managed to get for him rather than being at the crime scenes themselves. It was often awfully boring. Getting back to his work, he looked between the notes he'd been given and the victim's poisoned body and found what he was looking for.
"Molly, tell Lestrade that it was the victim's brother who murdered her- something about an inheritance issue I'd believe-" He grabbed his coat and scarf and leisurely put them on, "The murder weapon is the victim's insulin pen and it should be inside her bag."
"And how did you figure that out from that?" she gestured towards the body.
"Really? Well, I suppose I should explain myself." He paused before moving back over to the notes, "The victim was diabetic and her doctor brother took care of everything for her- made her believed he truly cared for her but he didn't really- however when he found out that their father was going to remove him from the will, he thought to accidentally murder his sister so he'd get the inheritance. So, when she wasn't looking, he switched her insulin pen for another one with a higher dosage, causing hypoglycaemia when she took it, ultimately causing her death. He thought he could get away with it because of the whole amazing big brother role, but clearly he didn't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a new case." And he swiftly walked out the door.
"What? A new case? Sherlock!"
She wasn't expecting an old woman at the door when she knocked, but she was grateful it was not her brother, even if she only a certain amount of time before she'd see him, she wasn't sure so sure she could handle that yet. Mycroft wouldn't be happy at all, she thought nearly growling, caring is not an advantage my arse, no one is free from emotion.
Instead she smiled at the woman and introduced herself as Alina House, a client for Mr. Holmes. She'd almost laughed at the woman's reaction- she'd heard about her brother's misfortune but she didn't think it had ruined him that much.
She was then lead upstairs to a crowded living room, first noticing the horrendous wallpaper with a smiley face spray painted on it with bullet holes as eyes- very Sherlock she thought. She sat on the sofa and accepted the woman's apology of why Mr Holmes wasn't there and was promptly left alone. She fidgeted, her leather jacket rubbing against the couch, a nervous habit she had never managed to grow out of.
It wasn't long before she heard the front door open and shut and the heavy footsteps up the stairs almost made her want to sink into the couch. Too late to turn back now she thought before feigning an American accent as her brother came through the door.
"So you're the infamous Sherlock Holmes? I was expecting you to be taller." She smiled at him, shifting her sunglasses but not taking them off.
"I am." He eyed her suspiciously, "And you are?"
"Alina House."
"Alina House?" He walked over to the leather single seat and slowly sat down, "May I ask why you have come to me?"
"Shouldn't I have? I was under the impression that you where the best consulting detective in the world?"
"The only." She smiled again before making herself comfortable.
"Oh, well, I have a problem which I need help with, but you already know that."
"Do I? I only assume certain things, but I can tell you your life's story before you've even thought about it." He paused," However, there's something about you that doesn't quite make sense" He smiled as she fidgeted again.
"I thought as much Mr Holmes, care to elaborate on what doesn't make sense?" 'Alina' worriedly asked before mentally berating herself for giving her act away.
"Where to begin? The way you're dressed suggests that you're young, 25 years of age or thereabouts, however, you act far older- you've been in many situations that you've had to be someone you are not, older perhaps. Your hair is dyed, rushed even, so I can only assume that you have had to hide from someone or something; your accent is also fake, admirably so though- an octave or so lower gives it a more natural feel and the fact that you are wearing sunglasses indoors where it is particularly dark suggests you do not want me to know who you are- but that leads me to the most important discovery."
On the outside, she was calm- simply smiling at his deductions- but on the inside 'Alina' was a wreck, watching his every move as he flicked through a notebook without a care in the world.
"I'm not too surprised Mr Holmes, but I am intrigued- what is this 'most important discovery'?"
He smirked before getting up and moving closer to her, "Alina- means alone- if you're hiding from someone, you'd give yourself a name that means the opposite of your real name, however, you're smarter than that and know that they'd expect it, so you'd do the opposite to what you're meant to." He was in front of her now, "And House? A house is a home should you make it one..."
"Dear sister."
Shit.
Thanks for reading, and again constructive criticism is wanted- I highly doubt any of this makes sense, but hopefully will start to. So please review! I'd give you cookies but they've been replaced with some sort of bug.. :/
