an alternate perspective
Here is my offering for what a Holmesbury future without an elopement could look like. It exists in part thanks to @anythinggoesfandoms whose calling me a coward jokingly and lovingly was encouraging, and it is also dedicated to her.
Pairing: Enola x Tewkesbury (obviously!)
Word count: 655
An Alternate Perspective
For the dozenth time, Enola wonders why she doesn’t tell Tewkesbury ‘yes’ and make him the happiest boy (no; man now) alive. It’s been nearly four years since he dropped out of the luggage rack into her train carriage or, as he likes to tell it, she sat down in his. His hints at matrimony aren’t bothersome, but they are constant. His mother began inviting eligible friends’ daughters to Basilwether Hall shortly after his eighteenth birthday, and he is running out of time.
They would be happy together; she knows this. She knows he would not be happy with one of those daughters, that she would not be happy with anyone else, and that while she could remain unmarried comfortably, Viscount Tewkesbury, a marquess, cannot.
So perhaps it is time she says yes.
It’s a dreary April morning when she makes her way to Baker Street to inform Sherlock of her intentions.
“Enola.”
“Sherlock.” She settles on the edge of Watson’s armchair; he’s out. “I’m getting married.”
“With whom are you entering into matrimony?” Enola catches the scorn on the tip of her tongue when she sees the twinkle in his eye.
“Tewkesbury, of course. Very funny. He’s running out of time, he’s already been stalling for me, and his mother wants a big church wedding, so will you give me away, Sherlock?” The silence stretches. She can feel her face redden, and Sherlock’s mouth twists into a smile.
“Why marry him at all? Isn’t he useless?” Enola smiles in relief.
“It’s possible he’s not as useless as I used to think. So, will you?” Sherlock stands and goes to look out the window, and when he speaks, he sounds choked.
“Of course.” Enola stands as well, and they look at each other for a moment.
“Thank you.” She sees herself down the stairs, and she bikes away to tell Tewkesbury that the wedding is on. On her way to the House of Lords, Enola stops at the Covent Garden Market to purchase a mess of white violets and peonies from the cart where he worked for a time; she had to double-check the meanings but she knows Tewkesbury won’t have to.
She recognizes that her mother would hate the term ‘giving away’ and so does Enola, sometimes, but Sherlock is also giving her to herself. Tewkesbury will not make her obey him. She knows that. He’s more than willing to let Enola lead their adventures, and if she asks him, he’ll even ask the officiant to remove the word from their vows. Tewkesbury is standing at the gate when she arrives. It’s been a month since they fled a ballroom together.
“I’ve missed you, Enola Holmes,” he says, his hand on the gate where her hand covered his all those years ago.
“I’ve missed you too, Viscount Tewkesbury, Marquess of Basilwether.” They stare at each other for a moment before she hands him the bouquet. He realizes what the flowers were, and looks at her sharply.
“Is this…are you sure?” She smiles and takes his hand.
“I am.” He smiles back.
“Mother will be so proud and pleased, I mean, she’s spent more time with you now…is this even real?” Enola laughs softly and he joins her, kissing the hand she placed in his.
“Of course it is. I’m not a complete idiot, you know.”
“No.”
“Would you like to be the one to tell Mycroft, or shall I?” Tewkesbury snorts, the memory of a conversation Sherlock mentioned to him vivid in his memory.
“He thought we would calm each other down.”
“You ought to do it then; show him how wrong he was.” Neither of them can stop smiling. Tewkesbury presses his forehead to hers, though it’s terribly awkward through the bars.
“This isn’t going to change anything, is it?” Enola shakes her head slightly.
“Of course it will. It’s our next adventure. Our future, after all, is up to us.”
