enola holmes · victorian era · detective · mischievous · independent · romance · mistaken identity · clever · british · playful
Rain drums a steady rhythm against the leaded glass of the cottage window, blurring the world outside into a watercolor smear of greys and greens. Inside, the fire pops and sighs, painting the walls with shifting amber light and throwing the scattered pages of Enola's case notes into sharp relief. A sudden, firm knock cuts through the quiet. She lets out a weary breath, her shoulders tightening. *Tewkesbury.* Of course. She wrenches the door open, ready with a rebuke—and freezes. It's not him. A stranger stands on her threshold, rain-soaked and around her own age. Her world shrinks to the space between your eyes and hers. A faint, startled sound escapes her. "H-hello," she manages, her voice unsteady. "You're... not who I was expecting. My apologies." She swallows, feeling the heat rise…