It's just a small mystery that won't be that serious, you thought as you stepped through the rusty gates. The seamstress is most likely fine, this is just a small misunderstanding. Enola is too busy to try to solve these things that are obvious cases, that's why she threw this letter away.

You had secretly watched Enola from the stairway, who had been going through her mail. She had been looking through one of the letters and then just throwing it away. It wasn't like her, but you figured it's something too easy she wouldn't get paid for, so she threw it away. Which, again, wasn't like her, but all you saw was an opportunity. If you picked that letter up from the trash and went to check the case out, Enola could be surprised and proud how resourceful you were, and would surely give you another chance then.

"It's too dangerous," she had told you when you had tried to plead with her last time. "You're too young, you'd need to train—"

"I can train!" you exclaimed, smiling. "I will train, and I will become strong and fast like you."

She sighed, taking your hand, running her thumb over your knuckles. "There's still that other problem. You're too young. I can't risk it. You need to grow a little and train, and one day I could maybe take you along."

You scoffed, prying your hands away from her. "That's not fair, you started when you were my age."

"I was forced to, in case you don't remember," she sighed, turning back to her desk. "Our mother was missing, and our brothers weren't—"

You interrupted her, "I remember. You found her and on the side, you found Tewkie, saved his life and fell in love with him." You rolled your eyes. "True love story."

She was quiet for a moment, laying her hands flat on the desk, staring at the documents on it. "I understand why you feel offended by it, and that it feels like I don't believe in you. But when I worked on that case, I almost got killed, more than once. I can't risk it for you."

You stared at her for a moment longer, but she just shook her head and sat down, starting to go through her mail. You groaned and marched upstairs, making sure the whole building pounded with your footsteps. You knew it was childish, and further made clear to Enola that you weren't ready for jobs, but you just couldn't bear to stand by and watch as your sister went on all those exciting adventures.

So, the next time Enola was out of the building, you snuck downstairs and knelt next to the trash bin, digging it for a moment before you found it.

"Miss Birkin... the seamstress having gone missing," you mumbled, tracing the words on the letter. "Last seen two weeks ago, she didn't show up to her sister's birthday party."

The directions to the meeting point were below, where you were supposedly going to meet her sister. So you took your bag, stuck the letter in there and left the house.

The sun was already setting when you pushed through the old creaky gates. and found yourself in a dim alleyway where you could barely see. You looked around, trying to see if there was someone with you, but it was too dark.

Dread filled you, a gnawing feeling that something was wrong. Every single nerve end screamed for you to run, but you were too stubborn to leave — you had taken this job, you should finish it. Going back and whimpering and having to tell Enola you failed because you got too scared wasn't an option.

Then, a shadow. A large shadow, right at the end of the alleyway.

"H-hello?" you squeaked out, and right after that, you heard a loud clunk and you screamed, spinning around to see a large, bulky man closing the gate with a chain and a lock.

"It's not Holmes," someone said from behind you, and you felt something sharp pressing to your side. "Who are you?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to make up a way to escape, but came up with nothing. "I-I'm nobody, I just... I ordered something from Miss Birkin, is she here?"

The man snickered as he pressed himself closer to you, his disgusting breath blowing into your face. "I'm afraid Miss Birkin doesn't exist, and the only person knowing that name would be Enola Holmes, but you're not her. You're too small, too young to be her. Too scared. But I bet you're someone important to miss Holmes, aren't you? Maybe a little sibling who snooped through her papers?"

Your heart thrummed a little louder, sweat trickling down your forehead. But you still uttered out, "I... I don't know what you are talking about. I'm just here to—."

"Lying won't help you, little one. You're neck deep in trouble now." He then shifted to look at the man at the gates. "What will we do with this one?"

The man growled in frustration. "We'll take 'em to the boss. He'll decide what to do.He will be enraged that we didn't catch that little brat detective, but if this one is a Holmes too and we will let 'em go, he'll have our heads for it."

The guy behind you nodded and the next moment, you were bagged and dragged deeper to the alleyway.

The sack smelled of damp fabric and sweat, making it difficult to not cough. The other man, you guessed the larger one, had wrung your hands together behind your back and pushed you forward. You tried to count steps, take mental notes of turns, but eventually you had to give up. The pain combined with fear were too distracting on their own already.

Finally, you were led to a building, and you heard chatter briefly, which was silenced when you were brought in. Stairs up, turn right, a long hallway... three knocks and you were pushed inside a room and pushed onto a chair before the bag was finally taken off your head, and you couldn't keep in your coughs.

The man in front of you eyed you for a moment with a scowl, and then lifted his eyes to the two men above you. "Who's this? I told you to bring me Enola Holmes, this is not her."

"We know, boss," the slimmer guy drawled. "But we have a strong suspicion that this one is her little sibling, or her friend. She knew about the details we only sent to Miss Holmes."

The man immediately started to smile, and sat behind his desk. "Well, that does change things. Miss Holmes will likely be here in no time."

You shook your head. "I don't know anyone named Enola—"

The larger pushed the back of your head, making you jerk onwards. "You only speak when spoken to!"

The man in front of you smiled and held up a hand. "Now, now, Mr. Martin. No need to be rough with them. They're our guest."

Mr. Martin sighed. "Right, boss. I'm sorry."

The man behind the desk — the boss — leaned forward. "Now, little one. What's your name?"

You stayed silent, trying to hold his gaze despite your fear.

"Hm. What about your friend? Or actually, I think she's your sister. You're too snoopy not to be a Holmes. Tell us about her a little. We'll let you go if you tell me a few things."

You still were silent, and the boss nodded to one of the men behind you, and you felt the knife pressing on your side again, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

The boss sighed, cocking his head at you. "Now, I don't like hurting my guests, but I'm sure you know you're forcing my hand here."

Then, the lights flickered a few times, making everyone pause and look up.

"What the devil is going on?!" the boss shouted. "Check the entrances and exits, she—"

The lights turned off with a loud bang, and on the next moment, the room was full of smoke. You felt a knife against your wrists and winced, thinking the man was trying to open your arteries, but then you felt the binds around your wrists snap and you were pulled up and led out of the office.

It was Enola, of course it was. And you were grateful for that, of course, but as you ran, you knew what kind of talk you'd go through with her as soon as you'd be back at her office.

And sure enough, as soon as you were back in your own room, Enola began her lecture.

"What were you thinking?!" Enola shouted, crossing her arms. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"I– I wanted to prove myself to you, I wanted to, I don't know, make you realise I could do what you could. But I now know it was stupid, I know you were right. I'll never be as good as you."

"This isn't about proving how good you are, or how good you would be, going to try and solve cases without me is dangerous, and there are a lot of people wanting to capture me because they know I'm a threat!"

"I thought it's something you threw away because of it being too easy," you whispered, looking down. "I thought that I'd go there and find the seamstress in just an hour because there has been a misunderstanding."

Enola took a deep breath. "I threw it away because I knew it was a trap. The seamstress's assumed sister wanted to meet me at a crime infested area, in a dark alleyway. Sherlock warned me about someone named Edward Mitchell being after me, he's a boss of a criminal organisation in that area. And I knew that the moment I'd step in there, they'd drag me along and imprison me, hoping to get Sherlock to come and rescue me so they'd be free to do whatever they wanted."

"And I fell right through that trap," you mumbled. "I'm an idiot."

Enola shook her head, sitting down on your bed. "You're not. You tried to help, and I understand that. But these kinds of things are the exact reason why I don't want you to go take on cases yet."

You sat by her, leaning your head against her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

You sat there in silence for a moment, before Enola gently pushed you up. "You know, I could talk to Miss Edith next time I see her, ask her if she'd be willing to take a new student to learn self-defense. With enough training, you'll make a fine assistant, and one day, a detective."

You blinked at her. "Really?"

She smiled at you, stroking your back. "Really."

You surged forward to hug her, and she laughed, hugging you back. Despite all that happened that day, you felt like things were turning out well after all.