Author's Note: HNNNNGGGGGG! Okay I knew I would be writing a chapter for these nerds but I waited until after watching the second movie and GOOD GOLLY WAS IT WORTH IT I just wanted to stay in their light forever *heart eyes*
(can you tell I'm writing this A.N immediately after watching Enola Holmes 2? lol)
This particular chapter is dedicated to my dear friend MissingCrowdof1000s because, as usual, she gave me just the push I needed to get a-writing ;)
Tewksbury had a secret, and it was driving Enola mad.
"Let- me- see-!" she grunted as his obnoxiously lanky frame boxed her out of a room jutting off of his study. "Tewksbury!"
She stomped her foot, glaring at him furiously. "Why can't I go inside?"
"Because it's a surprise," Tewksbury laughed, looking absolutely delighted at her rage. He kept a firm eye on Enola and patted the air behind him until he could grab the doorknob and pull the door safely closed. "And it's not yet ready, so you must be patient."
"I have many attributes, Lord Irritation Marquess of Bothersomshire," Enola huffed, though a smirk was starting to fight at her face. "Patience? Not one of them."
"Of that I am well aware," Tewksbury teased. He grabbed her hands and gently tugged her away from the mysterious guarded room, one that he seemed to be emerging from every single time Enola visited in the past two weeks. "I promise it will be worth it."
Enola rolled her eyes, still annoyed. But it was in a fond way, as her irritation usually was when it came to her beaux.
"Tell me of your Christmas plans," Tewksbury urged, leading Enola to a couch so they could sit together. "Will you be able to see your mother?"
Enola winced a little, her mood dimming. "Hard to say for sure," she admitted, fiddling with the edge of her fashionable jacket. "If she shows up it is likely to be entirely a surprise and entirely on her time. She's rather on the run at the moment, so limiting herself to a schedule, much less sharing that schedule, could prove dangerous."
"Well, then you must have Christmas Eve with us," Tewksbury declared, nodding with finality. "Sherlock is invited as well, of course. I'll even extend the invitation to Mycroft, though I believe we'd all prefer he didn't come."
"We are not inviting Mycroft," Enola glowered. Any mention of her eldest brother brought back the memory of the carriage ride to Mrs. Harrison's Finishing School, where Mycroft had screamed in her face until tears rolled down her cheeks. As much as she hated to admit it, he terrified her. "I never want to see him again."
Tewksbury nodded sympathetically, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "No Mycroft," he agreed. "Probably for the best, I can make no promises that I wouldn't punch him out at first sight."
Enola grinned into his shoulder. "Maybe we should invite him, then."
Tewksbury laughed and gave her a squeeze, and they sat for a moment in silence. "So you'll come?" he asked a bit later. "To my mother's house? For Christmas Eve?"
Enola considered, one arm draped comfortably across his waist. "I suppose it is best that I start to get to know her," she admitted. "Considering… well." She gave him an implicit nudge.
"Indeed," Tewksbury agreed. "And there is no cheerier time than Christmas. Hence, my mother will be in much more receptive spirits than she might be usually. Though Enola, really, I don't believe you have much to fear." He gave her another squeeze. "You did save my life, multiple times, and I think she feels rather indebted to you still."
"Yes, but you cannot base the fondness of an entire relationship off of a feeling of debt," Enola protested.
"Perhaps not," Tewksbury allowed. "But it is a very good place to start."
W / T \ Y
As she watched horse hooves kick up sooty snow from her office window early on Christmas Eve, Enola felt a rare bit of homesickness wash over her. She hadn't been in her childhood home in what felt like eons, and around the holidays it was hard not to miss cozy evenings by the fireplace with her mother, the two of them sharing cocoa and stories.
Whether her daughter may have wanted her to or not, Eudoria had never fed her lies about Santa Claus; Enola knew that every gift under the tree came from her mother. Every tradition came from her, too, to the point where it was hard for Enola to branch off and create her own.
But this year, perhaps, would be a good place to start.
Enola stood up from her desk and swept her winter cloak over her shoulders. The clouds hung heavy over London, threatening snow later in the evening, and it was sure to be a chilly cab ride to the Tewksbury Estate.
Tewksbury met her at the door of his parents' mansion, a building she'd generally avoided returning to since she'd killed a man in self defense within its walls.
"Happy Christmas Eve, Enola," he said, kissing her cold-flushed cheek as if the butler wasn't standing two feet away.
"Happy Christmas Eve, Tewky," Enola replied, allowing him to take her coat, then her arm, and lead her inside. "I imagine you've informed your mother that I would be joining you this evening?"
"Enola, you have nothing to fear when it comes to my mother," Tewksbury assured her. "Trust me, she is… quite on-board. I've checked."
Still a bit dubious as to how an upper-class lady could ever be on-board with her, Enola Unconventional-Upbringing Holmes, courting her son, Enola merely shrugged and followed Tewksbury into the brightly lit parlor.
The household staff had gone to great lengths to make the too-large space look festive. There were multiple trees dotting the corners of the room, strung with garlands of popcorn and lit candles. Evergreen swags decorated the windows and the hearth held a large, merrily cracking fire. Tewksbury put his hand on Enola's waist and led her to the small cluster of people gathered around the hearth: his mother, dressed in elegant, festive colors; his uncle; and Sherlock, who seemed quite at ease considering he'd only officially met the Tewksbury family once, when he'd turned down investigating their son's disappearance.
"Good evening, Miss Holmes," Lady Tewksbury said, curtsying delicately. She always looked much too young to have a son Tewky's age, but knowing upper class society she'd probably been married by fifteen so Enola supposed it made sense. "Happy Christmas Eve."
"And to you, Lady Tewksbury," Enola answered, curtsying in reply. She did the same to Tewksbury's uncle, exchanging pleasantries, then nodded at her brother. "Sherlock. I see you have deigned to exclude Mycroft from the festivities."
"I thought that would be best for all involved," Sherlock agreed, giving her a small bow. "But I appreciated the invitation for my own attendance. It has been quite awhile since I have spent the holidays with someone other than my landlady."
Enola restrained herself from reminding her brother that it would have been the easiest thing in the world for him to join her and Eudoria at Ferndale Hall. She knew Sherlock regretted his years-long absence and she didn't need to make things awkward when she could control it.
The group of five fell into small talk for awhile, gradually moving towards the sitting area as they discussed the weather, Sherlock and Enola's cases, drama at the House of Lords, and the weather again. As the clock struck nine, Tewksbury stood. "Enola, could I speak to you for a moment? I'd like to give you your gift before it becomes too late."
Frowning quizzically, Enola rose and followed him into an adjoining hallway, which led to a small study. Tewksbury shut the door behind them and turned to face her. "So. I believe you have been rather eager to know what I've been hiding from you in my downtown apartments."
Immediately intrigued, Enola practically jumped at him. "Yes! Yes, please, do tell me."
"I… have been making… growing… your Christmas gift," Tewksbury revealed, dramatically stepping aside and gesturing behind him.
A shrub sat solidly on the revealed table, bushy, light green and scattered with white berries. Enola choked out a laugh. "You've been… growing me a bush?"
Tewksbury beamed, looking incredibly proud of himself. "I have. A special bush."
"At least you've moved on from flowers," she teased him, reaching out and poking a smooth berry with one finger. "Are they edible?"
Tewksbury groaned dramatically. "Enola, really, we must get you more up-to-date on your plant identification. Don't you know what this is?"
She looked at him blankly, eyebrows raised. "Why would I become more up-to-date on my plant identification when a rare instance of getting to know more than me pleases you so very much?"
"It's mistletoe," Tewksbury explained with a tolerant smile. "I grew you a mistletoe bush for Christmas. Not the easiest feat in this climate, I might add." He shrugged, a little more bashful. "I figured that you could try to keep it alive, so each Christmas we could share a wonderfully cliché kiss under the mistletoe."
Enola grinned. "This seems like a rather selfish gift, Tewky," she teased him, walking over to the bush and snapping off a branch close to the bottom of the plant. She held the sprig over her head. "Now, are you going to leave me standing under this alone?"
"I could never," Tewksbury assured her, stepping close and cupping her face with his hands. Enola let the mistletoe drop as he kissed her, wrapping her arms around his waist.
"Happy Christmas, Enola," Tewksbury whispered, pressing another quick kiss to her lips.
"Happy Christmas, Tewksbury."
Author's Note: Did the mistletoe tradition exist among the upper class of Victorian England? Is it possible to grow a mistletoe bush in London? Would Lady Tewksbury allow her son and his beaux to go into a room unsupervised?
No….? But I guess that's the joy of fanfiction lol.
Happy 1 week until Christmas :D