This is the last chapter * sobs. I've had so much fun with this story and it's never been perfect but I've just given so much time and effort that I'm really sad to see it over.I may make a sequel to this so keep check on my stories.
Last but not least here is the final chapter of 'Enola Holmes'
The funeral was a short service,with little people and white roses. There was speeches. Sherlock was asked yet he denied.
John made his way to the altar piece of paper in hand. He spoke clearly and slowly. Only choking when he saw her coffin. He didn't know Enola the longest or the best. They weren't best friends or inseparable and for a short time before her death he acted like he hated her.
No one did know Enola. Some came close though.
She was buried with her necklace,reminding her of who she was not what she was.
He wondered if in her final moments of she gazed apon it and thought of him.
Though he realised her thoughts were probably plagued with the demons she had lived with for 15 years.
Shortly after she had been put into the ground mycroft approached Sherlock.
A note sat on the table beside him in 221B informing Mycroft of just what he had taken.
It had been the longest list yet.
Yet for the first time a note had been left,in exchange for sherlocks.
That's what they do don't they ... Leave a note.
When he finally came to his senses he was still not able to see properly therefore the note was given to John to read aloud to him.
He didn't want to.
But he did.
Because that's friendship.
"My dearest Sherlock
It seemed a bit cliché to leave a note. Yet I feel as if you understand or rather I hope you understand why I have left this.
I am sorry. What I did was wrong and bitter and selfish. But we're not all like you or John or the people in the movies,we're not all heroes who turn out okay at the of us are bad and evil and bitter and some of us have enemies in ourselves. Now this is probably a few days after my funeral, because I know you've yet again reached for the drugs. For a man with the most intricate mind you are so predictable. I hated leaving you and John and Mrs Hudson and even Mycroft. I would say I miss you but I think missing someone is for the living and that is what I'm not. I'm 'd know about that Sherlock ,the fall the final jump or rope or cut or pill. I thought of how I'd do it , I've considered over dosing , but that seemed too easy ,I deserve pain. That's why I chose this ,the original way , quick slash in the right place. I thought about a tall building but I'm not worth a jump brother waste of air,messy footpath, in the view of children.
Tell John to look after you. Like he has all along. I have no doubt in my mind that he will but I must include the good doctor.
I don't want to make this too long Sherlock for I fear il wimp out and not do it.
Finally I must tell you that loneliest is not something you will ever have, you have people who love you , care about you and whether you like it or not you will never know what alone is. Alone is not all you have, you have a best friend and a brother and a family and friends and a job and a fantastic mind and Sherlock my dear Sherlock it does not protect you,it haunts your every move and makes life harder than it already is. Alone kills you, alone is the voice in your head and the knife in your hand and once your alone, completely alone you realise your no longer breathing and your falling but not gracefully for your friends and family but because of the lack of them.
And you will always have me.
Sincerely
Enola Holmes."
John was crying as he got to the end of the note tears that drowned his face and hit of the blood stained letter. Sherlock sat still and as the doctor went to the bathroom, he raised from his chair and reached his as he was holding it up, now raised ready to play a rattle came from the inside.
He shook it and the object fell out hitting the floor.
A necklace.
With a black pendant.
As he turned it around.
A gold engraving glinting in the light.
Holmes
It was Enola's necklace.
The one she was buried in.