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#just imagine Tewksbury watching over them both
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Fanart "Enola Holmes" - Enola + Sherlock Holmes
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thechindiannerd280 · 3 years
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Resemblance (A Holmesbury Fic)
Hey everyone! It’s been a long and stressful week but I made it, and with a new fic! Spoiler: it’s another pregnancy one but I decided to write it because I was in the mood to write another cute fic about them just being cute and cuddly so I guess this is the product of that haha.
Summary: The due date is days away, and Tewksbury and Enola decide to look through old archives to see what their future child would look like.
“It’s the box to the left.”
Enola watched as Tewksbury searched her vanity for the box she was looking for. It was a small one, but beautiful nonetheless. It was easy to miss since it blended in well with the other items on the table, so she didn’t blame him for not seeing it at first. She would have gotten it herself but she was due in less than two weeks and was confined to bed most of the time with intense pain and weakness. As she watched her husband walk back towards the bed with the box, she grunted as she put herself into a sitting position.
“Easy, easy, not too fast,” Tewksbury said as he placed the box in Enola’s hands. He lay down on the bed next to Enola. “Let’s see what we got here.”
Enola reached into the box and pulled out a pile of old photographs. It’s been so long since she looked at them, and seeing them made the childhood memories come flooding back. Tewksbury reached into his jacket and pulled out a pile of his own photographs and placed them on his lap.
“Let’s see,” he said as he laid out the photos on his lap. “Ahh, this one.”
Enola smiled as he reached over and placed one of the photos on her stomach. In it, a much younger Tewksbury sat on top of a rocking horse and smiled back at her. He couldn’t have been older than two or three.
“You were such an adorable baby,” she said. “Look at that sly little smile. What mischief were you cooking up?”
“My master plans to raid the kitchens,” Tewksbury laughed. “Especially the chocolate.” He reached over and took a random photo from Enola’s hands. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“Oh, that one!” Enola exclaimed as she looked over. “That’s one of the only pictures I have with my father.”
“You still have the same stare,” he said with a chuckle. “That deep, concentrated look on your face when you’re deep in thought. You were probably concentrating on getting out of your father’s arms.”
“Yes, some things just never change,” she joked. “Always the rebellious one.”
“Hmm,” said Tewksbury as he searched through his pile again. “This one! For my sixth birthday I got a pony and this photo is from the day I got him! I was very proud, you know.”
Enola couldn’t contain her smile as he handed her the photo. He was such a beautiful child, with his angelic curls and sweet smile. Cherubic indeed. As he shuffled through his photos again, Enola placed her free hand on her stomach. Ten more days. Ten more days until she would meet the tiny creature that had been growing inside of her for nearly nine months. As the due date grew closer, she decided to go through their childhood photos to figure out what their future child would look like. It was a brilliant idea, really. Seeing their younger selves gave them a general idea of their baby’s appearance and it seemed like the possibilities are endless. Enola’s face with Tewksbury’s smile. Maybe Tewksbury’s eyes. Or maybe he or she would completely like Enola or completely like Tewksbury. Genetics are truly mysterious.
“Enola, look!” Tewksbury’s voice broke her train of thought. “I remember this day so clearly. “I was in the gardens and my father was teaching me about flowers and what they symbolize!” He handed her a photo of himself sitting on one of the benches in the gardens with dozens of flowers in his hands. A proud smile was plastered on his face and as her eyes scanned the photo, Enola noticed he was surrounded by different flower bushes.
“Look, it’s you in your natural habitat,” she joked as she playfully shoved her husband. “How old were you?”
“About eight,” he responded. “And yes, I was in my true habitat,” he added with a smile. “I like to joke that I found living with flowers much more appealing than living in the manor.
“Of course you did,” said Enola. “I have an idea,” she added all the sudden.
“As you always do.”
“We should put our pictures side by side depending on our age. Here, since we’re around two or three in these two, why don’t we put them together. Same for these. We’re around ten here so let’s put these together as well.” She reached forwards and started to match the photos that were already scattered over their laps. “Here, why don’t you hand me some and I’ll match those as well.”
“Enola, what are you doing,” Tewksbury asked with a furrowed brow as he passed some pictures to her. She matched them quickly and before long, a whole picture gallery was spread across their laps and the bed.
“I’m trying to figure out what our child will look like,” she responded and she straightened the photos. “Who our child will look like.”
“Us,” said Tewksbury.
“Yes, of course it will look like us,” said Enola, rolling her eyes. “By looking at these pictures, I think we can at least have a general idea of what to expect.”
“I know, I’m just kidding. I think it’s a splendid idea,” Tewksbury said.
“Anyways, look at this.” Enola held up two pictures. “What do you notice?”
“Well, we’re with our fathers. I know I’m six in that picture and you look like you’re four.”
“What about these over here?” She pointed to another set of pictures, this time with their mothers.
“Our mothers,” said Tewksbury, deep in thought. “Ooh, I think I know what you’re getting at. We both look nothing like our mothers. Except for you, I guess. You have her eyes and smile. But otherwise you look more like your father.”
“You look exactly like yours,” Enola said as she held his photos closer.
“I wonder why I don’t look like my mother,” he said as he leaned back. “I know some things about genetics and how it can vary, but most people I know have equal traits from both parents. Do you know why?”
“To be honest, I do not have an answer for that,” Enola said as she continued to scan the pictures in front of her.  
“Come on, you always have answers to everything,” her husband teased.
“I have heard from multiple people that firstborns look more like their father. Of course not everyone, but I know Mycroft looks like our father and he’s the firstborn. Here.”
Enola reached back into her box and pulled out an old photo of Mycroft and Sherlock and held it next to the photo of her father. The resemblance was uncanny. “I’m the first born and I look just like my father as well. This makes sense!” Tewksbury whispered. He turned to his wife with an excited look on his face. “Enola, what if? What if the baby looks just like me? There will be so much of me in my daughter!”
“Daughter?” Enola asked with a laugh. She could have sworn he had a bigger smile on his face than a child at the fair. “You’ve said that so many times already. What makes you think we’re going to have a girl?”
“Oh, I know,” he responded. “I have my way of sensing things.”
“Really? You say you can sense things but couldn’t sense someone was trying to murder you all those years ago?”
“Ok, fine. Fair point. But I do and truly think we will have a girl. A perfect little girl.”
“Who will look like her father,” said Enola as she held up one of Tewksbury’s baby photos. “She’ll have his perfect eyes and perfect smile.”
“And her mother’s brains, may I add,” said Tewksbury with a wink.
“Imagine this,” said Enola as she held up photos of each of them as toddlers. “The baby will have your good looks, but the same mischievous twinkle I had. Behind that cherubic face is a strong willed and free soul.”
“Agreed. Do you reckon she’ll share my love of flowers?”
“I don’t see why she wouldn’t.”
“Your curly hair?”
“I can definitely see that.”
“You want to hear something really crazy?”
“Of course,” said Enola as she rested her hands on her stomach.
“I have a feeling she’ll have your nose.”
Enola tilted her head back and laughed, ignoring the sharp pain going down her spine.
“My nose? Why on earth would it be my nose?”
Tewksbury looked at her with a sheepish grin.
“I thought it wouldn't be fair if she didn’t have at least one thing from you,” he joked. “I think your nose is your best quality, so we’ll give it to her.”
“William Tewksbury Marquess of Basilwether, you take that back,” said Enola as she playfully took a pillow and hit her husband over the head with it. Just as Tewksbury reached up to grab it, Enola felt a flutter in her stomach. The baby was kicking.
“Stop, stop, the baby’s awake,” said Enola as she let go of the pillow.
Tewksbury immediately stopped and threw the pillow to the opposite side of the bed, a concerned look growing on his face.
“I’m so sorry,” he said as he placed both hands on her stomach. “Should I call Mother? Maybe the physician?”
“No,” Enola said with a pained smile. “Everything’s fine. It looks like our little one has something to say. Stand still.”
The room fell dead silent as the two adults waited for another response from their child, who now seemed to be in the mood to move around inside Enola’s stomach. They held their breaths, not wanting to miss anything. After a while, she felt it again. This time, it was stronger than the last one. Tewksbury had a huge smile on his face and leaned over to press his lips over her stomach.
“What was that, my dear?” he whispered. “Did you have something to say to your papa?”
Another kick.
“Hello to you too,” he said as a small tear formed in the corner of his eye. “I can’t wait to meet you, my little angel. I’m not sure if you can hear us, but we were walking about you. I think you and I will look just like each other. What do you think?”
No response. As adorable as it was, Enola was glad she stopped because some of her kicks were hard and gave her a lot of pain. Tewksbury turned towards her and they made eye contact, enjoying each other's company before he spoke again.
“I think she agrees with me. She’s going to look exactly like me,” he said as he began to pick up the photographs.
“She didn’t kick back when you asked her,” Enola laughed as she handed him some pictures. “She went silent after you asked, so I don’t think she agrees.”
Tewksbury looked at her with a twinkle in his eye.
“Oh, no. She does. She just doesn’t want to hurt your feelings. After all, she knows that hurting her mother’s feelings before she’s even born would be an awful thing. Smart girl.”
“Nobody hurts my feelings,” Enola replied with a wink. “Especially a newborn baby we know absolutely nothing about!”
“I beg to differ, but we shall see. Trust me, I am right.” He winked back.
“Of course. You are the Marquess of Basilwether after all.”
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