The Girl Who Fell In Love With Flowers

Chapter 4

Bird calls fill the young girl's ears, a cool, gentle breeze pulls pieces of stray hair across Y/n's face as she lounges on a long, low hanging branch near the base of the large oak that sat in the overgrown field. Her eyes closed, she basked in the sun, content to be in nature and away from the chaos of the once pleasant family home. Enola sat between two branches farther up the tree, sketching in her leather bound book, a look of distaste and oddly intense focus fixated upon her face.

Unfortunately, all good things must be ruined one way or another. What disturbed Y/n's peace was a footstep, followed by the low, inquisitive voice of a certain detective that rang through the quiet atmosphere the young women had made their haven.

"I also enjoy a sketch. It helps me think, process my thoughts." Sherlock shared, accompanied with a sigh as he sat down at the trunk, resting between some roots that have grown out of the ground.

"Helps me do the same." Enola replied, her attempts at sounding emotionless failing as there was a bit of edge to her tone.

Y/n looked up at the girl above her. She watched as Enola seemed to finish whatever she was working so passionately on before ripping the piece of parchment out of her book. As she moved it behind said book, her grip loosened and the parchment slipped from her fingers, slowly gliding down past Y/n, and down into Sherlock's hand. He takes a puff from his pipe that Y/n had failed to notice earlier, before straightening out the paper and looking at the artwork in front of him. He began to chuckle. Now that piqued Y/n's curiosity. She sat up on the branch before laying down on her stomach, legs kicking behind her, her chin resting on her folded arms. She looked down over Sherlock's shoulder to see the unmistakable face of our eldest brother, Mycroft, except this drawing made him laughable. The overdramatic features of the angry man made Y/n want to frame it in the family room because of the detail and honest accuracy.

"A caricature. Perhaps best if Mycroft doesn't see this." Sherlock said, with a glimare of humor in his voice. "Do you intend to stay up there?"

"We were hoping for some privacy." Enola murmured.

"You know, the last I remember, you were quite a timid little thing." Sherlock spoke. His voice sounding far away, as if he was in his own world, deep in the depths of his mind.

Y/n's eyes once again closed, the bustling wind picking up, rustling the leaves that surrounded her. She listened to her brother. His voice soothed her despite her anger at him for refusing to help the sisters. In their youth, Sherlock, although always distant, would always come and hum a melody to her when he thought she was sleeping. But she wasn't. As time went on, he did it less and less, until he disappeared completely.

"You had a pinecone wrapped in wool," Sherlock continued. Y/n smirked as a flash of the memory came to the forefront of her mind. Enola was obsessed with the thing.

"Dragged it wherever you went. Calling it Dash." Sherlock chuckled softly, as he continued his story. "Someone told you that Queen Victoria had a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel called Dash and you decided you wanted the same."

Sherlock shook his head to get out of his trance and a smirk replaced the soft smile he had worn moments prior. "We could never persuade you to put any trousers on. Your bottom was always bare."

Y/n burst into laughter at the sudden and unexpected tone switch. Enola scowled as she tried to climb down the tree to escape her siblings.

Sherlock's expression turned solemn as a realization struck him. "I think that's all the memories I have."

"Thank you. If you could now forget them all." Enola's tone had a bitterness to it. "A pine cone called Dash? That sounds ridiculous."

Sherlock's smirked returned, his eyes not matching at all. "Father would chase you all about the place, shouting, 'Get that damn dog out of my house'." The siblings all shared a chuckle at the memory of their father. Oh how they missed him.

Enola sighed, as she contemplated her words. "Why did you never visit?"

Sherlock was taken aback by the sudden question. Y/n leaned in a little, her own wonders of the same subject coming forward.

"I lead a busy life." He said, shortly to try to avoid the subject.

Enola sighed as she dropped down from the tree, landing softly on the ground beside our brother.

"Why did you never write?" Y/n pushed, wanting to be involved in the conversation.

Sherlocked turned to her, finally acknowledging her presence. "Would you have cared for my letters?"

Enola sat beside Sherlock, her tone soft as she spoke. "I have kept every clipping of every case of yours that I can find."

Y/n sighed as she too decided to come down from the tree. She climbed down before joining her siblings at the base of the tree.

"That's flattering." Sherlock nodded his head, a smile on his face but unsure what to do with this sudden confession.

"And yet, it took mother's disappearance to bring you home." Y/n spoke quietly, just above a whisper. She brought her knee to her chest. Her fingers traced circles on her knee as her eyes grew distant.

"She meant to go." Enola continued for her older sister, knowing her thoughts and that the eldest girl finds it difficult to express her feelings in words. "She's not coming back." Enola's voice quivered the slightest bit at her last thought.

"No."

That one word confirmed Y/n's darkest thought. Their mother abandoned them. In a world built against them, their mother left them.

As if reading Y/n's thoughts, Sherlock continued his sentence.

"But the truth is, Mother always had a reason for everything. Her own way of doing things."

Y/n looked up at her brother, hope sprung into her chest. Only to be discouraged by her brother's next words.

"And those kinds of mysteries are always the most satisfying to unpick."

"I don't want a mystery Sherlock. I want my mother back and my life as it was." Y/n snapped, her anger that she has kept deep inside beginning to surface.

Sherlock made eye contact with the girl, making sure she understood. "You're being emotional. It's understandable, but unnecessary."

A tear slipped down Y/n's rosy cheeks. She has always been good at keeping her negative emotions to herself. Internalizing them. But with everything that is happening, she felt her walls begin to crack.

"Look for what's there. Not what you wish to be there. You'll see the truth soon enough." He whispered to her, hoping to get across to the girl.Y/n sniffled as she wiped the tears off with her sleeve before standing, and storming off through the field, away from her siblings. As she reached a distance where she knew no one would hear. She cried. She let all her sadness and pain out as she clenched her hands against her dress tugging at the collar. She wailed. She was still a child after all. A girl whose mother left and brothers want to ship her away. 

A/N
I know I always apologize and say I'm going to do better. SOOOO I not gonna say it again, as these promises go unfulfilled because life loves screwing me over when it comes to timing and my busy forever changing schedule. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! It's about to get fun!