𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐬

☼︎ 𝐓 𝐰 𝐨 ☼︎

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Miss Harrison proved to be quite the headache, her presence casting a figurative storm cloud over the room.

A chuckle escaped her lips as she measured Enola's waist. The truth was, I'd crossed paths with Miss Harrison before, and let's say, it didn't unfold harmoniously. A disagreement over the insistence on wearing a corset had left our interactions strained, a tension that lingered in the air like a phantom echo of past clashes.

"Well, that's too small," she declared, measuring the chest with a scrutinizing eye.
"They are perfectly fine."
I knew, sister, I knew.
"Oh, how disappointing. We will have to use an amplifier," she remarked, shifting her focus to Enola's hips, her words resonating with an air of dissatisfaction.
"Hips are simply a function of legs, aren't they? What need have they of amplification?" Enola's retort was a stroke of brilliance, a defiance that added a layer of satisfaction in the midst of tension. She was, after all, holding her own.

"Aren't you the clever little tongue? I'll enjoy that," Miss Harrison responded, a subtle smirk playing on her lips as she continued her measurements with an almost predatory precision.
"I'm sure you'll do."
"I won't enjoy being imprisoned in those preposterous clothes," Enola continued, visibly irritated, her rebellion a palpable force.
"These clothes will not imprison. They will free. They will allow you to fit into society, to take part in its numerous pleasures. To catch an eye, to attract." Miss Harrison's words resonated with an unyielding determination, a conviction in the transformative power of attire.
What if she doesn't want any of that? Have you thought? The silent question hung in the air, a subtle challenge to Miss Harrison's rigid notions.

"At my finishing school, you will learn how to be a young lady, and you'll make many new friends." The offer held a promise of societal acceptance, but Enola's response was a resolute rejection of conformity.

"I don't need friends. I have Florence." I smiled at Enola, feeling a surge of warmth at the acknowledgment of our bond, a counterpoint to the cold formality of Miss Harrison's regime.
"And I don't need to go to your ridiculous school."

The sound of a slap reverberated through the room, a sudden eruption of violence in the face of Enola's defiance.

What the-

"No!"
"Please don't do this to me. Let me remain happy. I AM happy here." Enola's plea reverberated with desperation, a cry for autonomy in the face of impending change.
I was kind of out of it, everything's going so fast.
"You are a young woman now, Enola. You need an education."
"Test me on anything you think I need to know—to be sufficient for this world." They argued again, the room pulsating with tension.

I walked to Enola, giving her a blanket as Mycroft continued:
"If she taught you so well, you wouldn't be standing in your undergarments in front of me. You have no hope of making a husband in your current state." Even more pressure, huh. The weight of societal expectations hung in the air, a suffocating reminder of the constraints placed upon Enola's choices.

I wondered why Sherlock allowed his brother to be so unkind to their sister, a familial dynamic that seemed shrouded in complexities beyond my immediate understanding.
"I don't want a husband! Look at Florence; she doesn't have one!"

Silence. What a betrayal; everyone was looking at me now. The spotlight shifted unexpectedly, and I had nothing left to do except say, "Ouch."
And so I left. I went outside for some fresh air.

🎞️

"I'm sorry Flo, I didn't mean to, I swear!" Enola approached me by the tree, visibly saddened, her eyes reflecting the turmoil within.
"Don't worry, En, it happens." The tree provided a quiet refuge, its branches cradling her as she began to climb, a physical manifestation of a desire to escape, if only temporarily.

I closed my eyes, listening to the birds chirping until I heard footsteps.
"I also enjoy a sketch," Sherlock sat next to me, a silent companion amidst the chaos.
"Helps me think, process my thoughts," he continued, his words revealing a vulnerability beneath the veneer of analytical detachment.
God, his side profile is so pretty!
They talked. I, again, didn't listen. I don't feel like investing my energy in something that doesn't include me, so I stood up and went back inside, leaving behind the intimate exchange of thoughts beneath the tree.

The rest of the day unfolded in a mundane haze, but my mind kept circling back to Sherlock.
Yes, I know; thinking about a man sounds really weird. But hey, he seems like a good guy! Except for the fact that he abandoned his sister and will probably leave her again.

And so I fell asleep with those thoughts, a tapestry of uncertainties woven into the fabric of my dreams.

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Hey! Sorry this chapter's a little bit shorter. Yeah, that's all.
Byee !!! :D