[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Manuscript by Dr. Watson)

Lestrade and Holmes had a pretty good personal relationship aside from business matters.Lestrade was also the first person who dared to bring up the topic of "teaching" to Holmes, which was completely out of his style.

"As with any technology, there are inheritors," Lestrade said over the dinner table, "and detectives are no exception."

Holmes was noncommittal.

"For example, old friend, it would be a pity if a detective as skilled as yourself did not teach his talents to a new generation of detectives."

"Yes," said Holmes, examining his glass, "how embarrassing it will be for Scotland Yard."

Speaking of this, Holmes raised his head and smiled at Lestrade, saying that the remark was just a joke, and did not mean to make him unable to step down, although he was no longer able to step down.

"I mean it seriously," said Lestrade awkwardly.

"Sorry, but I'll listen carefully from now on. Tell me."

"Many private detectives are now doing this in an organized way. Some young people who are interested sign up to work as assistants in the detective agency to gain experience and don't have to pay tuition..."

"I am not a private eye," Holmes interrupted the inspector.

"It's about the same meaning," said Lestrade. "It's more suitable for you."

"You are trying to torture me, my friend, by asking me to explain some trivial things to a kid with zero experience while doing high-intensity mental work."

Lestrade gave an odd smile.

"Not quite. Besides, you are much younger than you think." He looked smug, as if he was sure to say something that Holmes could not guess.But Holmes leaned back in his chair as serenely as before, and said flatly:

"Then let's not be tricky, let's talk about the girl."

Lestrade was dumb.

"You don't need to ask, you didn't talk about this topic casually, but to persuade me with a purpose. You are young and inexperienced, it's okay, then it's a girl."

"Okay. There is such a candidate. He is from Sussex County. He was going to study language and literature at the Faculty of Arts. Later, he stopped his studies because of his family's financial situation. Now he is looking for something to do."

"Ah, literature!" repeated Holmes loudly. "You're going to recommend me a poet in a moment!"

I understand what Holmes means very well.In his opinion, it is not the most unacceptable to be a girl who he doesn't think highly of, but at least she should be a student of mathematics or chemistry, even if she is a female worker.

"You'd better look at her before making up your mind. She's already bought a ticket to London."

"Very well, I will pay her travel expenses back."

"No, that's not what it means. She found a job as a governess here, but she didn't want to live in the employer's house - so she would find someone to share the rent. Even if she wasn't with her when she was working on the case, she might move here here."

"A storage room? I remember Mrs. Hudson saying that the storage room is habitable."

"Believe it or not, Holmes, I have seen her, and I assure you that the girl is, as her family say, a precocious child."

"Most parents have had the dream that their children are geniuses."

"Precocious and superintelligent are two different things. I mean, you know her when you see her, she's a complete grown-up."

"Then you have found a precocious young adult."

"Holmes, he's right. We need to see how she's doing," I said, because I thought Holmes' sarcasm went too far. "Maybe it's not what you expected. It's not your style to draw conclusions without any facts."

"Okay, Watson, it's a way of dealing with a person. Then tell me, what's the use of having a student?"

"Assist...?" said Lestrade, looking at me in embarrassment.I think we should seize this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

"I'm no assistant, Lestrade. I have my own work, and I don't have time for everything."

"You see, Holmes," said the Inspector with a smug face, "an intern can be of some use."

"Although I don't think an assistant is a necessity, since you are all so persistent, it seems that I have to try to calm things down. When will she come?"

"This Friday, which is tomorrow," replied Lestrade, "in the evening."

"What's her name?"

"Angela Nightingale."

"My fellow, it's still a nightingale. It's time to cry," said Holmes.

There was nothing to do on Friday, and we were waiting for the arrival of Miss Nightingale at home.During this period, I imagined many times what this girl would be like.Maybe a gentle lady, blond, well dressed, with good musical taste.Maybe a little nerd who can memorize the library but can't move an inch without his glasses.Maybe a tomboy, hot-tempered.The morning passed like this.It started to get cloudy in the afternoon, and the street lamps were turned on before dark.At night, there was thunder and lightning outside, and it was pouring rain. I was reading a book in the house, and Holmes was bewitched by something else, and spread the newspapers on the floor, forcing me to only have a little space on the sofa.If Mrs. Hudson came in at this time the sky would fall.

"Holmes, what are you doing?"

It was useless, Holmes, who was in a state of thinking, could not hear anything.I simply did not ask.The miraculous thing is that Holmes jumped up from the pile of newspapers when I didn't even hear the doorbell downstairs.

"Mrs. Hudson! Open the door for Miss Nightingale!"

The landlady answered the door with astonishment. She could not understand it, but she was used to Holmes being able to tell exactly who was standing outside the door.We heard thunder outside and Mrs. Hudson's screams.

"My God! What are you doing! Come in!"

Holmes had absolutely no intention of tidying up the room before the lady entered.Even I guessed it, the situation outside is worse than the situation inside.

"Mrs. Hudson, is she in?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes, but it would be better not to come into the house until she has changed her clothes."

"Let her in, now."

The door opened.I was dumbfounded by what I saw, but Mrs. Hudson was quite another.

"My God! Miss Nightingale!"

"Mr. Holmes! What are you doing!"

Only Holmes and the girl standing at the door were at peace.Holmes, who was sitting on the floor among the newspapers, looked up at the door consciously or unconsciously, and his eyes met hers.

All my previous imaginations collapsed the moment I saw her.

If I had met her on the streets of London tonight, I would have believed in witches.Her black hair was soaked and fell to her shoulders, and the water was dripping down, and her face was covered with water.There was no umbrella, no raincoat, no overshoes, and her overcoat probably wrung out enough water for a drizzle in London.She must have stumbled and fell into a ditch on the road, otherwise she would never have been soaked in muddy water like this. It was impossible to see what color clothes and shoes she was wearing, and the suitcase she was carrying was also like mud. Pinch the same.It can be imagined that there are footprints and water marks all over the place from the gate to here, and it is difficult for Mrs. Hudson to allow her to enter.Once in contact with the warm indoor air, she took a deep breath.

"Sorry for being late. I'm Angela Nightingale," she said in a singing voice.It seemed that the torrential rain did not dampen her active emotions.

"It's okay, we've already heard about Nightingale's name," I said.Holmes got up from a pile of newspapers and went over to shake hands with her, not feeling at all unnatural. "I am Sherlock Holmes, and this is my friend and colleague, Dr. John Watson."

Miss Nightingale wanted to shake my hand, but looked at her shoes and did not move.I had to go over and shake hands with her.

"You can come in by stepping on the newspaper." Holmes returned to his original position and leaned on the writing desk, smiling and making a "please" gesture. "You know you underestimated the weather. You know that weather like this doesn't happen every day."

"Thank you. However, it's not entirely an underestimation. It's just that I can't see the road clearly at night. I should have put on my glasses. Excuse me, can I put the suitcase here?"

Holmes nodded, and Nightingale carefully placed the box on the newspaper.

"Mr. Holmes, will you tell the poor girl to change her clothes first and wash and dry her body before she catches a bad cold?" Mrs. Hudson's yelling interrupted the surprisingly calm conversation between Holmes and Nightingale. .

"And, Mr. Holmes, please go back and clean up the room yourself."

"Naturally, Mrs. Hudson, you just need to boil Miss Nightingale's bath water. I don't need you to worry about my room."

"I hope not," muttered Mrs. Hudson, and went out.By this time Miss Nightingale had taken off her soaking overcoat, and looked at Holmes and me.

"Give it to me, miss." I took the clothes.At the same time, she had already opened the box, and took a long time to pull out a piece of...

raincoat.

I almost dropped her coat on the floor.Holmes' gesticulating hand froze in midair.

"Miss Nightingale." I said with some difficulty.

"Huh?" She glanced at me and threw the raincoat to Holmes, very naturally, without feeling anything wrong.

"Do you mean to ask her why she puts it in a box and gets caught in the rain when she has a raincoat?" said Holmes suddenly.There was an unspeakable expression on his face.Whenever he wanted to understand something, he would smile in such a mysterious way, because he knew that revealing the mystery suddenly would cause a surprise effect.

"Yes, but I wish Nightingale had told me."

"No, Mr. Holmes, you go first." The girl showed a smile very similar to his.Her dark eyes glowed in the light. "I'd like to know if what you think is true."

It's an amazing thing.Most people would ask, "I want to know if you guessed it right" when Holmes hit something for the first time.

Then Holmes would say, "No, I never guess."

Nightingale did not give this opportunity.

"There are things in your suitcase that are afraid of getting wet, most likely books, because these are the most common and very important books for you. Since this suitcase is not waterproof, you wrapped it in a raincoat. For the time being Say it's a book."

The smile on Nightingale's face at the moment gave her a lot of color, even though she was not beautiful in person.She opened the box again and carefully took out a stack of books from inside.I took it in time, and it was a few books on literature.

"Let me think about it, because the raincoat is in the box, but it is wet. It is interesting. Mr. Holmes, it seems that there is a lot to learn."

"I didn't say I would accept you." Holmes weighed the raincoat in his hand, went to the door and hung it on the coat hook at the door. "But I will try to teach you first, and then decide whether to keep you."

"You know it's an honor, Miss Nightingale," I said, "to be a student of Sherlock Holmes, if only for a day."

"I think I prefer another name-how did you call me just now? A poetic name, just don't add a title."

"which one?"

"Nightingale," said Holmes, leaning back on the writing-table.

"In the future, you don't have to be bored when you don't have a case," I suddenly remembered this matter. "You can be normal when teaching her, and you don't have to go crazy looking for all kinds of things like before."

"Normal?"

Holmes and Nightingale looked at me at the same time, as if I had said something out of the ordinary and they were partners who had known each other for a long time.

I should have had a hunch that adding a student of Holmes to Holmes's foundation would not be a sign that life was on the right track at all, but a crazier start.

The author has something to say: the heroine appears, and the next chapter will talk about her. At this time, the heroine is still young...