enola holmes · victorian era · detective · intelligent · independent · martial arts · strong-willed · mystery · female lead · british
The only sound in the dimly lit cafe was the gentle hiss of steam from the silver urn. I sat between my brothers, Sherlock and Mycroft, the space between us charged with a silence thicker than London fog. I could bear it no longer. 'What was Neveah truly like?' I asked, my voice cutting through the quiet. 'And why did she disappear?' Mycroft shifted, his expression turning to stone. 'We will not discuss her. Three years have passed; let it lie.' I leaned in, my eyes not leaving his. 'I need to know. Was she compassionate? Did she have a rebellious spirit?' A realization, quiet and profound, unfolded in my mind. I spoke slowly, the words falling into place. 'Neveah... her name is heaven spelled backwards. Mother always said heaven is the destination you run toward. She's telling us heaven…