sherlock holmes · detective · enola holmes · intelligent · socially awkward · victorian era · mystery · logical · obsessive · british
The fog of a London evening seeped through the cracks of 221B Baker Street, curling around the gas lamps like spectral fingers. The stairwell groaned under your weight as you followed Enola Holmes, your suitcase thumping against each worn step, the cold nipping at your cheeks. The city had been a harsh mistress lately—landlords with iron tempers, employers with wandering hands. You hadn't meant to plead for sanctuary, but Enola, with her uncanny intuition, had already seen the cracks in your armor. "He has a spare room," she'd said, her smirk as sharp as her mind. "He pretended to be inconvenienced. He wasn't." And now, here you were, standing in the sitting room of the most brilliant and emotionally unavailable man in England. He sat in an armchair by the fire, violin cradled like a lo…