[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Manuscript by Dr. Watson)

I think it's time for me to wrap up this story.

Angela Nightingale left Baker Street ahead of Holmes at the end of October.This is beyond everyone's expectations.On the eve of London's detective retiring, he actually had to send Nightingale on the train back to Manchester.Of course I will go with you.The three of us were very quiet on the road, because it was extremely embarrassing for anyone to speak.

They didn't say a word while waiting for the train at the station.Angela looked scarier than Holmes, as if she hadn't slept for days and nights, she habitually clenched her collar tightly.Holmes stared intently in the direction in which the train was coming.The two men acted as if they barely knew each other and were very much alike.To be honest, there is nothing I can do this time.

"You had a problem when I first came here," she said suddenly.

Holmes beamed a little, and glanced back at her.

"I'm wondering if you'd like to make a bet now."

I took a step back with great interest and distanced myself.

"Of course it's something that neither you nor I can draw conclusions through reasoning."

Holmes looked calm, but from the look in his eyes, he was actually interested.

"Appreciate further details."

"You leave London on the ten o'clock train the day after tomorrow. Our bet is that I will see you off. I'm not sure what will happen in less than thirty-six hours. Maybe I'll change my mind. Maybe Get off halfway. Maybe, of course, I don't have any reason to go all the way back to London. The way it is. If you think I'm coming, get to the platform an hour early. If you don't think I'm coming, come on time. The measure is, If you get to the station early and I don't show up, you lose. If I go to the station, I lose."

"The point is that the party who compromises first is at a disadvantage," said Holmes flatly. "I almost know what to do."

"Sir, I know you agree that I will appear." Nightingale straightened her wind-torn hair, "But in fact, this is all unknown. And I don't want to lose it before I start."

"Perhaps so," said Holmes.I saw that his eyes were obviously brighter than before.

"You've got plenty of time to think, sir. We've pretty much got things packed."

"On the contrary." Holmes shook his head slightly.

"As you please, sir. Here comes my car. Farethewell."

"Faretheewellawhile." (Note) Holmes replied.

I was a little nervous on the return carriage, but Holmes seemed so unmoved that it irritated me greatly.

"How could you promise her like that," I said, "at least you should apologize and say something to stay."

"You mean I've deviated in dealing with people and things again?"

"No, Holmes, no, I have no right to say that about you," said I. "You have been above reproach in your dealings with others, but with your own friends. She was just giving you the last chance. Didn't you... oh?" , I'm sorry, of course I can't hear it, stupid me."

"You mean she's not serious," said Holmes absently, slipping on his gloves.

"Seriously what?"

"Play this game seriously."

"You are incurable, understand?" I helplessly covered my eyes, "There is no cure at all."

Holmes glanced at me out of the corner of his eye, and flashed a reassuring smile.But his current weakness weakened the effect of this trick, and it seemed that he was in special need of help.

"I just don't understand, Holmes, why you must have caused trouble when everything was going well. Annotated her note, and with such malice and sarcasm! Suppose one day I saw you using those words Me, then it's over for the two of us."

"You know that's impossible."

"Which point is impossible?"

"I wouldn't describe you that way."

"Thank you very much, Holmes. Why do you think you can do this to her? Don't tell me 'because it is the truth.'"

Holmes made a gesture of resignation.

"You wouldn't do that to anyone else, understand? Even to Lestrade and Grayson, your strongest words were privately with me." I said, "You wouldn't do that either." Treat Mrs. Hudson."

"I know, Watson, I know." Holmes suddenly became annoyed, and his slender fingers subconsciously grasped the cane. "I know that it seems irreparable now."

"I'd say it's a huge improvement. You take everything about her for granted."

"Never." He said coldly.

"Then do you still owe an explanation now?"

"The thing is, Watson," he said slowly, after a moment's silence, "that they were not written after her return. I used a pencil, and the handwriting changed very little, and she did not see the time difference."

"When is it?"

"During the disappearance. At that time, all her personal belongings in Baker Street were included in the scope of Scotland Yard's investigation, and the police had the right to inspect them. Her own notes were still the most important information. Lestrade thought it necessary to study what she wrote. items, especially from the period before the disappearance, but I asked to go through my screening first."

"Have you seen it all?"

"Yes. The Professor is a fascinating and dangerous character, and I'm not at all sure she's strong enough. I need more than Scotland Yard expects. I need to know all about her as I would a confirmed deceased."

This answer made both of us feel extremely bitter.I didn't know what to say for a moment. Holmes looked out of the window.

"Those things were written by me, which is equivalent to simple reading notes, but at that time I didn't have... So, when I saw her write those useless things on the whole page... Oh God, damn it!"

Suddenly he couldn't continue speaking peacefully, he lowered his head to hide his eyes, and clenched one hand into a fist.

"We still have time, Holmes."

"I believe so, Watson."

"There is room for redemption. She will understand what we just said, and Erin, I am more sure than anyone that you are not mourning her in the way some people think. Angela understands how it goes." It's just that too many things have piled up recently that she can't bear it all at once, and when she calms down, she will..."

"Isn't that asking too much?" Holmes interrupted me gently.

"what?"

"'She'll understand.' But this time she doesn't want to. She's already understood too many incredible things."

We were silent for a while.

"So," I cleared my throat, "it looks like it's back to square one. We've got a problem we haven't figured out for a while. Do you know how much simpler it was for me and Merry back then?"

"I know how to play this game, and I can't lose." Holmes ignored my question, "Unfortunately, it doesn't look like you can help me this time."

"Does this count as a day off for me?"

"No. You will go to the station with me the day after tomorrow."

"Holmes, we have agreed to say goodbye in Baker Street."

"Yes, but we also agreed that if you have time, please immediately..."

"If you don't have time, please come right away." I put my hand on his shoulder, "Okay old man, it's just a walk. But do you think she will come?"

Holmes was silent for a moment.

"I think I know."

I'm a little concerned about what the hell he's thinking.

For the next day and night Holmes remained in complete silence in his room.In the early morning of the day of departure, he walked into my room and woke me up rudely.

"Leave an hour early, Watson!"

"My God, Holmes, it's still dark!" I said, yawning when I was sure there was no fire.

"We'll be at the station before nine o'clock." He said that without thinking and exited the room.

"Wait! Are you sure you've thought it through?"

"Nothing to think about!" replied Holmes from outside the door.

"But you don't seem to be sleeping well..."

There was no answer from outside.

"Thanks for the reminder, good man, don't count me and Mrs. Hudson. As long as you get to the station." I said helplessly, covering my eyes with my hand.

But he ran downstairs again to call Mrs. Hudson.

The three of us waited on the platform for an hour.For now, there is no hope.At the beginning, Mrs. Hudson and I were listless and drowsy, while Holmes looked most like a patient but was mentally abnormal. This deliberate mental state made his face tired quickly, but he still fought hard. The spirit persisted.Mrs. Hudson and I exchanged a sleepy, questioning look.

"Tell me," she said angrily, "what do these two people want to do? Angela is in her 30s, and Mr. Detective is almost 50 years old, and he still makes troubles like teenagers. You have to pull us up every time."

"It can't be helped, Mrs. Hudson. Angela will always be fifteen to us, and Holmes will always be that way."

"Isn't he sure?" The landlady who was about to become the housekeeper complained, "Why hasn't Angela come?"

"If you ask me, we've made a bad bet," I said. "Good luck, Mrs. Hudson. I'm on my own for the rest of my life. I can't go with you to Sussex to take care of this human monster. "

"Watson, no conclusions can be drawn until the results are out." It was not Mrs. Hudson who answered me, but Holmes snarled.I shrugged at Mrs. Hudson.

Angela didn't come.

"I guess it's less than 10 minutes away from the car."

"Watson, I should be very obliged if you would keep quiet."

"Mrs. Hudson testifies that I just whispered to her alone."

"Doctor Watson, you should rest!"

I am telling the truth.Holmes knew very well that I was speaking the truth.His spirits faded quickly, replaced by disappointment that could no longer be denied.Mrs. Hudson and I watched his piercing gray eyes grow cold and lifeless.At first he tapped the ground restlessly with his cane, then, unable to stand still at all, he began to pace up and down in small circles, holding his hat in his hands, pinching its brim with his pale fingers as if to tear it to pieces.

There was no Angela on the platform.But I think the train will come soon.

I have to admit that what she did with her teacher in the end was brilliant.

After rearranging his scarf three times, Holmes No. 20 turned to look at me.I know the train is coming in about 5 minutes.Those bright gray eyes, if I didn't know him well, I'd think they were so clear as water from sadness.

"Holmes," I said, for it was evident that he would not be able to speak first.But I don't know what to say.

"I thought she was joking," said Mrs. Hudson, shaking her head. "I thought she meant she would come back when she calmed down by herself. Ordinarily."

"I thought so too," I said. "I thought you were sure she'd come."

Holmes and I looked at each other in the wind.I can't express how sad it made me to see him like that.

"Watson," his voice was clear as water, "I don't know."

I don't think I can comfort him anymore.

"Holmes."

"I don't know if she will come. There is no evidence that she will come."

"On the contrary." I said.

"On the contrary, there is ample evidence that she was sad this time."

"This proves it."

His eyes were very large because of the thinness of the whole person.He looked at me and didn't continue.

"But you're still an hour early," I said. "It defies logic."

The detective didn't answer.I think I hear a lot of voices in the wind.Crowds passed us.Not important, these are not important.

"You have lost, Holmes," I said. "You have lost."

We still look at each other like this.Holmes smiled, and a tear rolled down his pale cheek from his clear gray eye.I took a deep breath.

"Turn around, Holmes. The second sentence is not addressed to you."

Mrs. Hudson had the same smile on her face as I did.The detective froze for a second, dropped his cane, quickly wiped his eyes with his cuff, and turned around to look at the direction the train was coming.

A hundred yards from us on the platform, she stood looking at us.

Mrs. Hudson and I stood aside, and we also clearly saw Holmes' eyes suddenly lit up, like a struck match.

It's her, it can't be anyone else.All gray, always gray, dressed like a boy.She walked towards us along the tracks as if she was just passing by.The wind messed up her hair, and her bangs were scattered on her pale forehead. She raised her hand and brushed them away, as if there was a rising sun in her dark eyes.Holmes stood where he was for a moment, then walked towards her in the opposite direction from which the train was coming.We can ignore everything around the world, train stations, tracks, crowds.The two of them formed a clear line among the chaotic crowd on the platform.I never saw a more beautiful figure than this woman at that end.

Both of them lost the game at the same time.

"How is it, Mrs. Hudson?" I glanced at the landlady next to me.

"I'll see how he will laugh at me in the future and won't keep it secret."

"It's also best for him not to say that I can't act anymore."

"It's a great feeling that everyone knows something that only Mr. Holmes doesn't know!"

"Cherish it, Mrs. Hudson, it's only once in this life."

"But what about Merry?"

"The neighbors will take care of her for a few days while we are in Sussex, and that's all right. She would really like to come, but I told her that Sherlock Holmes will not allow her to take such risks."

"You are actually more cunning than anyone else, Dr. Watson!"

"Stop talking, Mrs. Hudson."

He held out his hands to her.She shook her head and raised a hand to lightly rest on his chest.

"Not yet, Mr. Detective. This is a public place."

"Nightingale, we need to talk."

"Don't worry, sir, we have plenty of time."

Under his clarifying gaze, she raised her hand in a silent gesture.

Note: These two English sentences were changed from Burns' ARedRedRose, and the original sentences have a little dialect.The Farewell that Nightingale said can be said to mean "goodbye", but it is much more serious, and is often used in scenes where we may not see each other again.However, Holmes added an awhile, which turned into a temporary farewell.It was actually a brief confrontation between the two men.

The author has something to say: This is the ending of the text.It was originally done early in the morning, but the link on the webpage was lost at a critical moment, so I can’t add it anyway... I just found out that I was too excited and forgot to add a note. I am adding it now, sorry...

The author looked at it and felt that the ending would not be very long, so it can be concluded today.In the afternoon, I broke out and posted the epilogue, that is, it was really over.

In fact, I was the one who suffered the most for the two of them tossing so much...

☆, the last compliment at the end

(God's perspective)

Finally, there is one more point that needs to be explained.

Doctor Watson and Nightingale jointly bought 221B from Mrs. Hudson, and the Watsons sold the original clinic and moved into Baker Street.The doctor's clinic is upstairs, and the living room downstairs is Nightingale's private detective agency.It does get a bit tight for space, and it happens that the doctor's patients get scared off by Nightingale's clients, but the three of them are determined not to be apart again.Little is known about Nightingale's obstinate refusal to have any more records of her case.Martha Hudson accompanied Holmes to Sussex to take care of his household.It was hard work, but perhaps old Mrs. Hudson was the only one who could hold Sherlock Holmes in check, like a headmaster to the naughtiest boys.The parties met occasionally, that is to say the London gang went to Sussex.But in fact, they have all but disappeared for Holmes.Three years after the detective retired, Merry Watson died in hospital of heart failure.The doctors said it was a miracle that she survived past 40.Her life had been smashed to pieces when she came to Baker Street, and she had the best of everything when she left.In some versions, Watson remarried later, some said it was Ms. Carfax, and others said it was the one in "The Noble Client", but in this version, Dr. Watson never remarried in his life.

If Hamish Holmes is real, we can easily guess the trajectory of his life.Born at Mycroft Manor, he lived mainly with his grandparents from early childhood, and many of them played his parental role until the age of seven, such as the Watsons and the McMurdos.When he was about nine years old, he went to South Sussex to live with the retired Sherlock Holmes.The alienation in his childhood made his relationship with his parents extremely cold.Holmes and he have very little to say.Before the First World War this serious and taciturn young man left for America, perhaps to join the McMurdos, changed his name, and never returned to England.

During the First World War, Sherlock Holmes and his students once again appeared in the arena.The doctor recorded the last cooperation between Holmes and his old partner Watson in "The Last Greetings".We believe that the consulting detectives of Baker Street also assisted in covert work in World War II.But during this chaotic period, he lost contact with both Watson and Nightingale.Faithful Dr. Watson witnessed the last meeting of the two of them. "There was nothing sad about it," Watson wrote. "They were not long, and they were peaceful. Nothing could separate them. It was as if they never doubted that they would never see each other again. , as they never doubted that somewhere they would meet again."

Nightingale died of tuberculosis in 1942 and did not survive the postwar period, surrounded only by his loyal follower, Bernard Jones.The news she sent in her last days had to go through several twists and turns before it reached Watson, and the doctor arrived just before her death and took the task of delivering her last words.Due to lack of information, Holmes did not know of her death until he reunited with Watson after the war.At this time, both of them are octogenarians, and Watson has to rely on a wheelchair to move.

"At least her mission has never failed, never." Holmes shook the water in the glass habitually, just like holding the test tube back then. "It's a happy ending, but it's just too lonely."

"It's a pity we can't reach you," the doctor said slowly, "this is the only one..."

Holmes interrupted Watson with a gesture.

"I don't want to hear you say that word. I've never felt that way, and she wouldn't feel that way. I feel very peaceful now." Holmes put his palms together, his fingertips resting on his forehead, and his eyes slightly closed as he thought. The standard action at the time, "Since the last time I saw her, she has been calm most of the time. Nothing in this world will happen to disturb my nerves. As long as we sit here like this, like in 221B, When it was raining outside the window, I would think that she would still walk in through that door with a suitcase, soaked all over her body."

"Don't you want to know what she said at the end?" Watson sighed. "It was something she never said explicitly."

"Do not want to."

Seeing the startled expression on his old friend's face, Holmes smiled faintly.

"because I know."

Holmes still chooses the old Sussex village to spend his last days "with bees and books as companions".As one of his biographers puts it, "Sherlock Holmes walked in the light".He was finally buried here.Watson didn't think it was a problem that he and Nightingale were so far apart.Both of them were also in the habit of ignoring rituals.

We found no further news of Iris and Jack McMurdo.We believe they are happy.

Well, that's all.

The doctor looked up at the simple tombstone as if he was drinking coffee with him across the table.There is not even a year or an epitaph on it, only a name engraved in print:

Sherlock Holmes

"Do you have any questions?" The doctor's blue eyes looked at the young writer who was in a trance.

"I can't think of a problem right now."

"You know what the one thing she's been trying to figure out is?"

The writer looked at the doctor hesitantly.

"She thought only people like Holmes could qualify," said the doctor. "You know what I mean."

"But it seems that she is very successful so far."

"It was very successful. Holmes didn't care if she was an equally brilliant detective, because he was the greatest himself. She didn't need to be like him, but he would never know her if she didn't go this way. The conundrum What is the correct answer, probably we will not know."

"Oh……"

"That's it, then."

"Oh, wait a minute, but what are Nightingale's last words?" asked the barber at the Opera House.

Dr. Watson smiled frankly and serenely.

"Since she said it was her secret, let's say we don't know!"

(End of the article)

The author has something to say: This is the end of the text.

The author really has a lot to say, but not right now.Now let's talk about the arrangements behind.This article is temporarily finished, and I will write an author's postscript in the past two days.The latter is to open a single extra volume, which will be updated from time to time and indefinitely.There are many, many things that will be said in the postscript, so I won't say more here.

Thanks in advance for everyone's support.