𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 | 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐦𝐞𝐬

☼ 𝐒 𝐢 𝐱 ☼

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WALKING BACK TO her place, Florence finally took in London. The place of polite society, the place of literature, of music. And there it was, dirty, with polluted air, having lack of civil rights, overcrowded and much more. Her dreams of a fairytale capital disappeared and instead, she started to miss the countryside.

As she turned a corner, she noticed a figure standing under a flickering streetlamp, engrossed in a book. It was none other than Sherlock Holmes. Florence couldn't help but smile; she was always intrigued by the enigmatic man. He seemed to be completely lost in his world of deduction, the subtle furrowing of his brow and the tapping of his fingers against the book betraying his intense focus.

She hesitated for a moment, debating whether she should interrupt him. As she pondered, a gentle breeze lifted a few strands of her hair, and it caught Sherlock's attention. He looked up, his piercing blue eyes meeting hers, and a faint spark of recognition flickered in his gaze.

"Ah, Florence?" he said, closing the book and tucking it under his arm. "I was wondering what you'd been up to."

Florence's heart skipped a beat "I've just searched for a job that's all, what, miss me already?"
she replied, a touch of cockiness in her voice. "Have you found out anything?"

Sherlock's lips curved into a subtle smile, a rare sight for most. "Yes indeed, some clues regarding Enola" he replied.

The two stood there for a moment, the bustling city fading into the background as they shared a silent exchange of glances. There was a certain understanding between them, as if they could sense the hidden depths in each other's souls.

"Would you like some tea?" Florence finally said, breaking the brief spell between them. "I know it is quite late, but you know, it would be nice to have company."

Sherlock nodded, a hint of appreciation in his eyes. "It would be very nice of you, thank you."

As they started walking, Florence couldn't help but feel a newfound connection with the enigmatic detective. There was something magnetic about him, a puzzle she couldn't resist attempting to solve.

The streets of London were still abuzz with activity as Florence and Sherlock made their way towards her apartment. The fading light of the day painted the city in soft hues, and the occasional gas lamps illuminated their path. The air was filled with the fragrance of blooming flowers and freshly baked treats from nearby bakeries, creating an atmosphere of comfort and familiarity if you ignored how dirty it was, as most often did.

"So, tea, is it?" Sherlock remarked, his hands tucked into his coat pockets as he walked alongside Florence.

"Yes," she replied, a smile playing on her lips. "It's one of my favorite pastimes. I find it quite calming."

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Tea has its merits, I suppose, but I've always found that my mind works better when it's engaged in active pursuits."

"Oh, I've noticed that about you," Florence said, casting a sidelong glance at him. "You're always so focused on your cases, on solving mysteries and uncovering the truth."

Sherlock inclined his head, acknowledging her observation. "Indeed. It's a way of life for me, you could say."

As they continued their leisurely walk, their conversation flowed effortlessly, covering an array of topics from literature to current events, each sharing their unique perspectives. Florence was impressed by Sherlock's depth of knowledge and keen intellect, while Sherlock found himself surprisingly at ease discussing matters that weren't related to crime-solving.

Eventually, they arrived at their apartment building, a charming and quaint structure nestled among others on the cobbled street. She led Sherlock up to her cozy flat, the scent of lavender and vanilla wafting through the air, she had managed to make it homey very fast.

Once inside, Florence busied herself with boiling water and prepared the tea while Sherlock observed her with a sense of curiosity. She moved gracefully, the simple act of making tea becoming an art in her hands.

"So, tell me more about yourself, Florence," Sherlock asked, taking a seat at the small dining table. "I've heard bits and pieces from Enola, but I'd like to know the person behind the stories."

Florence smiled as she poured the fragrant tea into delicate china cups. "Well, there's not much to tell, really. Grew up on the countryside, was off to be married, but decided the last minute, that it was not for me. Eudoria offering me a job to care about Enola isone of the best things that happened to me."

Sherlock sipped his tea, watching her with those intense blue eyes. "You're being modest, I believe. Enola speaks highly of you. There must be more to your story."

Florence hesitated for a moment, then decided to open up a little. "I've always loved stories and adventures, hence the spontaneous act of rebellion. Perhaps that's why I'm drawn to Enola's independent spirit. It reminds me of the characters I used to read about as a child, and I can't help but see a bit of myself in her."

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully, his curiosity piqued. "Interesting. So, you aspire to be like those characters, then?"

"In a way," Florence said, taking a seat opposite him. "I want to be strong and independent, to live life on my own terms. I admire Enola's courage to follow her own path, and it inspires me to do the same."

Their conversation flowed seamlessly, delving into deeper topics as they discovered shared interests and beliefs. Florence found herself drawn to Sherlock's enigmatic persona, while he found her openness and passion for life intriguing.

As the evening wore on, Florence lit a few more candles, creating a warm and cozy ambiance in her apartment. The flickering glow danced in Sherlock's eyes, making him seem almost softer, more approachable.

"Thank you for the tea and the company, Florence," Sherlock said, glancing at the clock. "I should be going; it's getting late."

Florence smiled warmly, feeling a connection that was unlike anything she had experienced before. "You're welcome anytime, Sherlock. It was a pleasure having you here, please don't forget to share any new discoveries with me."

As Sherlock bid her farewell, Florence couldn't help but feel her chest flutter a bit. She was left to hope that this seemingly ordinary afternoon tea would be the start of something different , and that their paths would intertwine in ways neither of them could have anticipated.

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Hey you that are reading this, thank you if you are.
So sorry for not updating, I don't have much ideas.
It would be nice for you to leave suggestions, ideas and maybe some criticisms so I can improve.
Also I may have started another book involving Jon Snow, but we'll see how that will go as I try to keep this book my priority.
Have a good day, night, whatever🫶