NOTE: Inspired by Enola Holmes (film) by Legendary Pictures PCMA Productions
It was a balmy autumn evening, and the sun shone upon me as I walked along the narrow parapet above the garret. By the time I reached the end, the mist that hung across the green valleys had arisen and dispersed. I lived on a farm in the countryside with my elder brothers, Mycroft and Sherlock Holmes. My father died thirteen years ago, and my mother disappeared two days ago. When I discovered this, my heart was heavy, and I would not leave my room that day. I felt as though I was expecting something like this to happen all year, and yet I was shocked when I discovered her absence in the country in which she had been two days ago. I resolved that I would be the one to find her and bring her back home. Throughout my childhood, she would constantly tell me, “You will do very well on your own.” I could not think why she would always tell me that, but now I have come to realise that she had been planning her disappearance for years. She would have wanted me to do well on my own if she kept telling me so, and now that I come to think of it, my name, Enola, if spelt backwards, is alone.
As I lay in my bed that night, the image of my mother would persistently haunt my thoughts. If I would ever find her, I would have to begin my chase as soon as possible. The more ahead of me that she was, the further on her trail I would be. I slipped out of bed, tiptoed across the room and gazed out of the window. The moon shone brightly onto the farm, and the stars twinkled merrily. I hurriedly undressed and put on joggings and a jumper. I had to wear something warm but easy to walk in if I was travelling on foot at night. After packing my spy and detective equipment and a good amount of money in my backpack, I sneaked downstairs and filled my bag with as much dry food as possible.
The idea of running away from my beloved home and family made my blood run cold, but if I was the one who would find Mother and bring her back, I must be prepared to sacrifice my comforts. I opened the front door and stepped outside, shutting it softly behind me. I took a deep breath and looked behind me. The door had locked itself, and my search had begun. There was no going back now.
I woke up to find myself lying in the bushes in a park I had stumbled across a few hours ago, where I had decided to take a nap. The light was blinding, and I groaned as I stretched out. My bones were stiff, and my hair was tangled. I washed my face and brushed my teeth in a nearby stream. I then went back to my den, feeling refreshed. I sat down and took out a map from my backpack. I did not have any clues about my mother’s location, but one thing I knew for sure was that she would be in the city. Mother was always talking about starting a spy organisation of her own for the government. My current location was London. I had walked from our farmhouse in Chilham to London, taking long rests at intervals. It was four in the afternoon when I had reached, and I had had some trouble trying to find an adequate place in the bushes to make a den unnoticed.
I silently crept out of my den and trudged along the path that led from the nearby waterfall to the exit of the park. I quickened my pace and strived to keep my eyes open. It was already six in the evening, and I still had no clues about my mother’s whereabouts. Suddenly, I caught sight of a white envelope fluttering in the boughs of an oak tree beside me. I climbed the tree lightly and cautiously retrieved it. As I recognised the handwriting as my mother’s, my face was burned with curiosity, and my hands became numb with fright. Ghastly images came into my mind when I thought about what the envelope would contain. I clumsily but cautiously opened the seal of the envelope and peered inside. What would it contain? My heart was beating so fast I thought it would burst. “Oh, please let it be from mother,” I chanted. I took out a blank slip of paper. Out of the blue, I heard a loud, grumbling voice. “Oh! Good heavens! It is quite stuffy in here.” My jaw fell open in shock. The voice sounded as though it was coming from the paper! “What do you think you’re gawking at?” shouted the piece of paper. Many people started to stare at me as though I was a suspicious bunch of bananas growing from the ground. I pretended to scratch my chin and whispered out of the corner of my mouth, “Don’t talk so loudly! Everyone’s staring at me! Who are you?” “Well, I am Patty Poon, and even though my name may be poon, I am very clever!” the note shouted. I then realised that it was not a note. It was a talking sentence! On the bottom right corner of the paper, written in tiny handwriting, was Patty Poon. Only one thing bothered me. Why did Mother leave me a talking sentence and not a coded note? The sentence told me, with much dignity, that he held all of the information to my mother’s disappearance.
I started to walk towards the park’s exit, but I noticed a tall shadow alongside mine on the ground. I immediately spun around to see a tall man in a dark green coat, black trousers and a long sour-looking face. When I whirled around, he gave me a mean, twisted smile and raised an eyebrow. I had a mad urge to slap him, steal his lime-green bowler hat and run away, but he started walking briskly towards me. Instinctively, I ran in the opposite direction as fast as I could.
I found myself standing in an alleyway next to dozens of black bin bags, but no flies were buzzing around them, and there was not a stench of rotten food like there usually was. I decided to investigate, so I bent down and started to untie the bag nearest to me. I was surprised to see that it was full of new, fashionable clothes and shoes! An idea struck me. I hid behind a bin, took off the clothes I was initially wearing and pulled a fancy dress over my head. I then stepped out, looked around and spotted the man who was following me some distance off. His sharp eyes rested on me for a moment and then turned away. I heaved a sigh of relief that the large columbo hat I was wearing hid my features. All at once, the talking sentence I was gripping tightly in my left hand shouted, “Run! Run! Run to the right! Run for your life!” I instantly panicked, and again, I found myself running as fast as my aching legs would permit me. I was running so fast that my head started to spin, and my vision blurred. I then realised that I was not running anymore. I was sliding down a steep tunnel! I must have fallen through a trapdoor in the alleyway to which I had run back. I had been sliding down the interminable tunnel for a long time now and started to feel nauseous. After a few minutes, my feet hit a wooden door, and I stopped abruptly. I slowly reached down and unfastened a wedge of wood that kept the door closed. It had been wedged in from the side I was on, so someone must have exited through the tunnel. As I cautiously opened the little door, I held my penknife in front of me for defence. I gasped as I beheld an astounding sight. I was kneeling in front of the entrance of a 12-foot building. The floor was made of marble, and the glass roof was hexagonal-shaped. My heart was filled with inexpressible joy by the sight I beheld before me. In the middle of a circle of professional-looking businesswomen, was my mother. The instant her gaze lingered upon me, I saw recognition and delight fill her eyes. I ran into her outstretched arms and started sobbing uncontrollably. I never stopped hugging her. Not even when we took a train back home to our farmhouse in Chilham.