[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Nightingale's Diary)

A month of normal life followed, not even a minor case in Baker Street.I just need to go to work at the Addams's and I don't have to think about anything else, although Constance has gotten me into as much trouble as the Baker Street case.Fortunately, I have Hattie for company.Since she came to Baker Street last time, she never mentioned Holmes. Instead, she asked me about Watson every day when she saw me, and judging by her demeanor and tone, she thought it was not obvious.I answered them one by one, but never mentioned them, let alone to her, and Watson never mentioned her again after that day.

On the morning when it happened, I was combing my hair by the looking-glass at Holmes' door.Holmes moved all the tools to the desk and wondered what he was dismantling.We were both listening to Watson read the newspaper.

"This may interest you, Holmes. An unsolved murder. Lucas the pianist was murdered at his home. There were only two visitors that night. The first was his fiancée, Anna Forner. Miss Yi. Known because the second was the famous London nightingale - not you, nightingale - opera singer Hilda Hopkins, who was the first to discover the body. Now the two visitors and The Lucas servants have been taken to Scotland Yard."

"There's nothing interesting about it," said Holmes. "There are only two suspects, and there is nothing to worry about. Nightingale, if you have finished tidying your hair, can you come and do me a favor?"

I glanced at him and could only see his back.

"Come back when you're done packing, I beg you. Don't drop your hair in it."

I put the comb on the frame of the full-length mirror and walked to the desk.The morning sun shone through the windows, and the metal parts on the table shone brightly.Holmes sat at the desk.Downcast eyes, an aquiline nose and a sharp chin complete his signature silhouette.I have never seen the most poetic sight of Holmes's still eyes, as he gazed intently.

"Help me help the clock case." He picked up the screwdriver and aimed at the target screw.

"Wait a minute!" I just saw the parts on the table and pressed his wrist, "Did you dismantle my clock?!"

Holmes paused and looked up at me.

"Oh, it seems to be yours."

I slapped myself on the forehead.

"But there is a big one at home, in the drawing room." Holmes spoke as if I had not been living here for a year but had just arrived.

"This is the gift Hattie gave me last month, which is equivalent to three months of my salary!"

"She sent you an alarm clock?"

"Because I said a long time ago that I needed one and just put off buying it."

"That's what happened."

"You still didn't say why you took it apart?"

"I haven't used my brain for a long time, find something to do."

"what?!"

"Sorry, but I've literally been staring at it for a month."

At this time, I don't want to say a word.Holmes tapped the back of my hand with his left hand.

"Can you let go?"

Only from the temperature of my palm did I feel that I was still holding Holmes' wrist tightly.I let go.Holmes put down the screwdriver somewhat exaggeratedly and shook his hand.

"No kidding." He said, "I'll put it back on for you later."

"I don't think you toss this time just to put it back into the original."

"Well, then I have to think about how to improve it." Holmes picked up the screwdriver again. "Help me hold the bell case."

"Don't think about it."

I went back and sat next to Watson.The doctor conveniently threw a newspaper to me.

"Why do you care so much?" Holmes sounded as if he were reading from a play.

"Well," I suddenly had an idea, "if Watson gave you something and I took it apart, wouldn't you be angry?"

Watson gave me a sidelong glance from behind the newspaper, but said nothing.Holmes turned from his chair.

"Watson, tell her what you gave me."

Watson reluctantly put down the newspaper.

"I beg you to stop bickering with her even if you have nothing to do. What do you need from me?"

Holmes ignored Watson and scanned the table. "Nightingale, you can also take apart the things Watson gave me. That's fair. Hey, I remember there is another one."

Watson gave Holmes a startled look.Then, between our silent gazes, the detective tossed me a cigarette.

"Wait, Holmes," Watson threw the newspaper aside with a "squeak", "have you been injecting drugs again these two days?"

Holmes's smile faltered.

"No." He said quickly.

"Give it up," Watson answered quickly, "I came to the conclusion by your method of reasoning. Holmes has no case for a month. Holmes needs a way to stimulate the nerves. Holmes hasn't smoked the cigarettes of three days ago. To sum up As stated, Holmes was injecting cocaine."

Holmes took a deep breath, leaned back on the desk and looked at the ceiling.

"Watson, why didn't I think of teaching you?"

"I appreciate that you value me. But if I want to learn from you, I choose to die."

"It's a pity. Sometimes you are limitless."

Having heard enough gossip, I picked up the newspaper Watson threw to me and flipped through it casually.

"Watson, you didn't read the newspaper yesterday?"

"Huh?" Watson was taken aback. "Yes, you forgot that I came back very late yesterday? Someone asked me out... What's wrong?"

"It's nothing, it's just that you just did something immeasurable." I flashed the newspaper in my hand to him. "You were reading yesterday's paper. There is something about the case now."

"..."

"How?" asked Holmes.

"Preliminary conclusion is Hilda Hopkins, the opera singer."

"It's incredible," said Watson, "that she's a star in London."

"It doesn't matter if it's a celebrity or not. Miss Hopkins stayed upstairs for a long time after she went in." I read the newspaper carefully, "and then came down to say that Lucas had been killed. This is obviously unreasonable." .If she didn't do it, she should have found out as soon as she entered the house."

"And Lucas' fiancee, what did you say?"

"She had injuries on her hands and was unable to commit crimes."

Holmes was silent for a while, and gently tapped the desk with the screwdriver in his hand.

"Do you think this judgment is reliable?"

"I'm afraid I didn't think about it." Watson also took the newspaper and looked at it. "It's still a bit blurry in places. You see, Hopkins doesn't admit it either."

"Wait and see," said Holmes thoughtfully. "Perhaps the main event is yet to come."

Holmes' unintentional prophetic ability has been verified once again.That afternoon, Hilda Hopkins' client went to Baker Street and asked Holmes to find out the truth for her.Holmes spent much time persuading his client to go back first, assuring him that he would arrive shortly thereafter.After sending away the anxious client, the three of us fell into silence for a while.

"The case is actually very simple," said Holmes.

"Have you got an idea?" Watson asked.

"basically."

"Then let's go now?"

"You go now."

"what?"

Both Watson and I almost jumped up.

Holmes smiled slightly, and put his index finger to his lips, signaling not to react too violently.

"After studying for so long, you should go out and try it. Don't worry too much, Watson will remind you."

"You think too highly of me." Watson patted my shoulder. "It's hard to say who will remind Angela and me when the time comes."

"You two should remind each other. Such a simple case does not happen every day. According to my estimation, the two of you together are worth this one."

After Holmes finished speaking flatly, he went on to work on the pile of clock parts.Watson stared at him for a long time, and from the doctor's wonderful expression, it could be seen that he was looking for a way to fight back at full speed.I whispered something in his ear.

"Yes, Holmes, you managed to divert the topic this morning." Watson was immediately refreshed and stood up from the sofa. "Hand over your needle."

"..."

If the case was not urgent, as a doctor with a strong sense of responsibility, Watson would have to argue with Holmes before going out and getting into the carriage.As we sat side by side in the taxi, I glanced up and saw Holmes looking out of the window of 221B, as usual, looking at London, and maybe looking at us too.I don't need to see his expression clearly, his faint smile when he was in a trance has already been engraved in my mind.

Watson and I rushed to the scene of the crime, which was in charge of Inspector MacPherson.The room was still sealed when we arrived.

"The scene has not been clarified yet, and it has been protected." McPherson said as he unlocked the door. "Has Mr. Holmes not come?"

"He commissioned the two of us to come," said Watson. "He will only come when necessary."

"Who is this?"

"A student of Sherlock Holmes, Miss Angela Nightingale."

"Sorry, I haven't seen it before." McPherson looked a little unhappy.

"I have now," replied Watson.

He dragged me into the room, but we stopped at the door.The carpet in the center of the floor had a large bloodstain, which had soaked the carpet and was now black.Watson was still brooding, but I felt cold and sick to my stomach.

"You need to get used to it." Watson said softly when he saw me subconsciously put a hand over my mouth, "You must know that if you do this, you will see much more serious things than this."

"I am very grateful to Holmes for not letting me see the scene in Brook Street," I whispered.At this time, I saw MacPherson standing aside, showing a half-smile expression.I sort of understood what the tall detective was thinking.A trainee detective who dare not even see blood, hum.

"With a knife?"

"Yes. It's the decorative dagger on the wall." The detective pointed to the empty hook on the wall. "It was left at the scene."

"I don't quite understand. Isn't there only two suspects? What else is unclear?" Watson asked the detective.

"There's really only one, Miss Hilda Hopkins. But she refuses to admit it. Oh, and there's a little problem."

"what?"

"At your feet."

We looked down and there was a small black bloodstain not two feet from where we were standing.

The author has something to say: I started to make up the case again.Yes, there will be a while without Foer.However, Watson's gossip was out of control.