This chapter has been edited*
Disclaimer: I don't own, don't sue me. I like having money.
The Case of the Missing Mini-Mycroft
Chapter the Ninth-
We had just passed the Kineford City limits, near the old stone church that housed the old graveyard for the town, when I asked the cab driver, "Could you stop here please?"
The driver stopped, and looked back at me. "Whatever you say, Miss 'Nola."
Thank you Richie.
Richie is Mr. and Mrs. Lane's son, while many people believe him to be dim-witted because of his dyslexia, he's actually quite brilliant.
I don't know how he did it, but Richie somehow managed to convince be the cab driver of the taxi to let him drive it.
I think that that makes up for the time he spilled water on my favorite book when I was little.
"Thanks, Richie." I said with a slight Cockney accent, instead of my upper-class voice. "It's Miss Ivy, actually. Don't know anyone named Enola." I exited the cab, shut the door, and grabbed my things from the trunk. I struggled slightly with my luggage, but managed to get them all out.
Richie began to drive off, passing the old church. I was worried that Mycroft might not believe that I had tricked Richie into stopping here so that I could say goodbye to my father's grave, when I actually was using it as an escape plan.
I set off towards the east, where London was located. I was planning on taking a train to London at the nearest town I saw.
I took a few steps, before looking back at me, where the church was. I paused, dropped my bags, and ran to it.
I quickly hopped the fence and walked to the back of the yard of the church. I passed numerous tombstones, some still in good condition, others crumbling apart. None of those mattered to me though.
A near-white stone caught my eye, and I made my way to it, more slowly this time. When I was in front of it, I kneeled down.
"This is very stupid." I said aloud. I read the words carved onto the stone.
SHERRINGFORD AVERY HOLMES
"It is during our darkest moments that we must focus to see the light."
The dates were too worn for my eyes to make out, and I sighed. I traced the words.
"It's stupid to be doing this, you know," Words began to rattle off my tongue, and I cannot help to stop them.
"You're dead, gone, passed over, expired or whatever fancy alliteration you want use." I sighed, my head lowered.
"Point is you're not here anymore. So you couldn't be listening to what I'm saying…" I looked around, glad that I had no audience.
"I barely knew you. I remember you used to smoke a cigar, I supposed that what might have killed you, I don't know." I was starting to get frustrated. "I don't know! What am I supposed to do, is this the right thing, running away?" I paused, trying to control my emotions and thoughts.
"I'm doubting myself, and it's scary." I said carefully. "I'm talking to a rock in the ground, and some old dirt bones." I stood up, clutching my fists. "What am I supposed to do when I get there? I'm just a kid, D-"
My body froze, and I took in a deep breath. I felt my emotions began to stop swirling, and I looked down at the grave.
"Screw this, you know? Screw this whole mournful, fate, 'who am I' rubbish. I don't want it, I don't need it. Screw my family, screw my mom. Screw everything!" My voice started to grow louder, and I screeched the last words. "Why does it have to be so hard?" I asked, my voice a whisper.
I turned around, my back facing the tombstone.
"That was so melodramatic, I'm glad no one witnessed that." I walked on, out of the graveyard, and grabbed my bags. I dragged the old bicycle out from some bushes I had hidden it a few days ago, under the moonlight of the night. I shook my head, angry at my previous actions, because they were pointless, and stupid. It wasted precious time I didn't have,
I looked up; dark gray clouds were swirling above me. It looked like rain. I shrugged my backpack over my shoulders, and secured my duffle bag to the bikes handlebars.
My mind wandered for such a long time, after I found an old grown over path I used as a guide to the next town over. I found myself thinking of the name I picked out.
Ivy Meshle. Ivy means fidelity, I found that out in the book that Mum gave me.
If you split up the syllables in Holmes, (HOL-MES), and then switch them around, (MES-HOL) pronounce it the way it looks, (MESHOL) then spell it the way it sounds, (MESHLE) and there you have it. Ivy Meshle. So brilliantly simple no one could ever figure it out.
That got me thinking to the other meanings out flowers, like the sweet peas and thistles in the vase together that I found in Mum's room. Sweet peas meant departure, and thistles meat defiance.
That sounded very much like Mum.
It was a shame I couldn't take the book with me, it was too big, and a waste of space for something more practical.
About an hour or two later, I arrived at the next town over. Actually, it was the town after the next. I wasn't taking any chances.
I traveled to the train's station. It was in the town of Gale, which you might think was a small town, but it was actually pretty big. It even had a politician of some kind living in it.
Hopefully they had no connection with my brother.
"Excuse miss, may I help you?" the ticket-seller asked curiously.
I had been standing there for a good ten minutes, brooding over my course of action. I had decided to move to London, but was wondering if I should take a train straight there, or take several trains, crisscrossing over the map, laying false clues for my brothers. I was trying not to think too far ahead, worried that if I planned with details, that it would make it easier to guess what I was going to do, so I was trying to be as random as possible.
I hope it gives my brothers a good solid headache.
"May I please get one ticket to London please?" I asked, looking up finally.
He cocked an eyebrow at me. "London, miss?"
I nodded.
"You sure?"
I nodded again.
"You want to go to London?"
I gave another nod, this time a bit more sharply.
"Lo-"
"Yes, I want to go visit London, I'm meeting my mother there." The lie came easily, which almost kind of sickened me. I was becoming very used to lying.
The ticket-seller slowly nodded and handed me the ticket after I gave him the money. "Be careful, miss."
I didn't even bother nodding, but took the ticket and went off my way. I grabbed my bags and decided to go visit a cafe. The train wouldn't leave until around two forty-five, so I had about 2 hours until then. I had to change anyway, not because my traveling clothes were dirty, but because I didn't want anyone recognizing me in any way shape or form.
The reason why I didn't change before buying the ticket is that my brother would be on me possibly by nightfall, they would look for the people who bought tickets at trains stations, so when they look at the security camera's, they would see me, dressed as I usually am, but when I get on the train, I would be a completely different person. I realized now, that they would know that I'm going to London.
My face fell; apparently I wasn't as clever as I thought I was. They wouldn't recognize at least, because I wouldn't be dressed as Enola.
I would no longer be Enola Holmes, younger sister of Sherlock Holmes, World's Greatest Detective. Nor would I be the riffraff of the family, the black sheep. I would-
"Newspaper miss?" a boy, perhaps my age, asked me. I admit I stared at him in shock for a bit before taking one. I paid him and opened it immediately. My eyes scanned the pages: there was a page on the local sports team game last night, a small robbery in a second-hand clothes shop and-
My eye narrowed and I grew closer to the article. This could prove to be very interesting for me…
LOCAL POLITICIAN'S SON TRAGICALLY KIDNAPPED
That's it folks, one more chapter to redo! Woo! Then regular updates! Please review, I need some critic. With that out of the way, it's time to say-
-GP2 OUT!
