[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

At seven o'clock in the evening, it was getting late, and the villagers all went home.The coachman William had just returned from delivering goods, and saw Nightingale in a dark trench coat, with his hands in his pockets, walking past his carriage on the dimly lit road, as if he didn't see him.He stopped and called her.

"Miss Nightingale, it's getting dark, where are you going?"

"Go to town," she said.

"Is Mr. Holmes not with you?"

"He still has something to do."

The coachman was not at ease, but he said goodbye and left without saying anything.Nightingale went straight along the main road to the town, and encountered no more than three pedestrians.After less than half the distance, she had to put on her glasses to see the road clearly.It was dark in the town, and the dim lights of the witch's shop were clearly visible.At this time, at this place, there is no one else on the street.Her own footsteps could be heard clearly.Nightingale took a deep breath, stood at the door for a while, as if she had finally made up her mind, raised her head slightly, raised her hand and knocked on the door.

After knocking several times, a grumpy voice came from inside:

"Who? For what?"

"It's me, Nightingale."

"Wait!"

There was a crashing sound in the room, as if something had collapsed, and then there was a sound of footsteps, and the door opened.Through the curtain of pebbles, Mrs. Cunningham's tall figure suddenly appeared, with her back to the light in the room, and her shadow was cast on the short Nightingale.

"It's so late, what's the matter?"

"Yesterday's pendulum, I want to see it again."

"Why are you here now?"

"I was playing in the town today, and I was just about to go back, when I suddenly remembered, I stopped by."

Mrs. Cunningham opened the door with a grunt, and let Nightingale in.She walked into the warm-toned room, took off her glasses, stood in front of the counter, and looked around.The witch, in a shawl and with loose hair, followed her with a gloomy expression.She was probably tidying up the shelves when she heard someone knock on the door and knocked all the bone carvings off the shelf.

"Which one do you want to see?" Considering that she could sell things, the witch's attitude made sense.

"I can't remember clearly. Let's take it out and have a look."

Mrs. Cunningham pulled out a box from behind the counter. It was a pendulum cone.Nightingale leaned on the counter and twirled the chain.

"Fortunately, I remember that there is another one that is a little weirder than this one."

The witch took out another one, the long tail one.Nightingale seemed to like this one more, and watched it repeatedly for a long time.Mrs. Cunningham was keenly aware of the promise.

"It's specially tuned, it's absolutely stable. It won't fade. I'm not a skilled craftsman, and the tail can't be so sharp. And... Huh?"

There was another knock on the door.Nightingale didn't look back as if she didn't hear it.Mrs. Cunningham straightened her hair and went to answer the door.

The pendulum gleamed metallically under the light.Nightingale heard Mrs. Cunningham ask who it was, but no one answered but knocked on the door.Then the door opened, and before the witch's exclamation was finished, there was another sound of a heavy object falling to the ground.Nightingale turned around, leaning her back against the counter and facing the door.

"How did you come here, Mr. Stevenson?" she said.

With an anxious expression on his face, Stevenson walked quickly towards her with one hand in his coat pocket.Nightingale moved to the right to avoid facing him.Sensing her vigilance, Stevenson stopped in his tracks.

"I heard from William that you came to the town alone." He said in a reproachful tone, "I guessed that you came here. This witch wanted to hurt you, but luckily I came not too late. Let's go, I'll send you off." You go back."

"Mrs. Cunningham did nothing." Nightingale looked at him. "What do you want?"

"What's wrong with you? It's too late when she kills you. There's no time to explain this. Let's go back and call the police." Stevenson's tone was a little impatient.She took a step forward hesitantly, then stopped, as if still undecided, he simply reached out and pulled her arm.At this moment Nightingale, who moved slowly, suddenly blocked his hand, pressed his wrist still in the pocket, and grabbed something and pulled it out.It is a white handkerchief.

"What's wrong with you?" Saying this, Stevenson suddenly laughed, "You don't think I'm carrying a gun, do you? Now that it's been identified, can you return it to me?"

Nightingale dodged his outstretched hand and flung the handkerchief behind the counter.Stevenson looked at her in amazement.

"Sorry, I can't identify this." She said succinctly, "B, ether, right?"

"What did you say?"

"Don't think I don't know," Nightingale slowly moved a few steps to the right, close to the counter, "Handkerchiefs soaked in ether are necessary for kidnapping. This trick is not new."

Stevenson clenched his fists. "Miss Nightingale, if detectives are as suspicious as you are, I will doubt your profession. Now, let's talk about something serious."

Following Nightingale's truncated exclamation, Stevenson grabbed her both hands, put his back behind her, grabbed her with one hand, and covered her mouth with the other.

"Stay still. It's an easy thing to do. You've got yourself to blame for throwing your handkerchief away. If I get into trouble, I'll have to do as I did with poor Jack Osborne. They'll all believe it was the old woman." of."

Nightingale couldn't speak, Stevenson felt her trembling, pushed her to go out, Nightingale was surprisingly strong at this time, struggling desperately, Stevenson was so angry that he was about to spit fire , neither hand can let go.While dealing with her, a cold voice suddenly came from the door:

"My little girl has always had such a temper. It seems that not only is it causing me trouble, but even you can't do anything about her."

Holmes stood in the doorway, his hands in the pockets of his gray coat, his figure tall and erect.Seeing Stevenson raise his head, he raised his chin slightly and looked straight at the other person with bright eyes. Few people could ignore this sense of calm oppression.He was followed in by a local police officer and two constables.Stevenson froze in place, his eyes darkened.

"The time was just right," said Holmes simply. "Arrested on the spot."

"Hands up," the officer drew his gun, "and hold on."

Stevenson let go of Nightingale's hands, as if to raise them slowly.When his hands reached the same level as Nightingale's shoulders, he suddenly shook his wrist, pushed a blade to her throat as if by magic, and restrained her from behind with his other hand arms.Holmes also looked a little surprised, and the three policemen looked at each other.

"Get out of the way, I know you're afraid to shoot," Stevenson said tremblingly. "Let me out, or I'll slit her throat."

The air seemed to freeze.Holmes stared at him for a moment.Nightingale didn't make any sound either, her eyes wandered over several rescuers.

"You should know that the result will not be any different," said Holmes in a deep voice. "Where can you go with her?"

"Get out of the way, or I will do it." Stevenson pressed the blade tightly against Nightingale's neck, "Anyway, killing one or killing two is a capital crime."

At this time, the hostage under him closed his eyes, his feet went limp, and he collapsed.Stevenson didn't expect the hostage to faint from fright, so he quickly moved the blade away to prevent her from hitting the blade, leaned over and held her arm to prevent her from lying down, very embarrassed, and said Shouted: "Don't come here!"

This desperate struggle only received a contemptuous smile from Holmes.His eyes flicked over the tablecloth on the counter, the large and small boxes, the box and chain of the pendulum, and finally fell back on Stevenson.

"Mr. Holmes," said the police officer solemnly, "in order to ensure the safety of the hostages, we can only make temporary concessions."

"It's a madman," said the detective like a sigh.Seeing that he didn't seem to care as much as he did, the police officer was a little anxious.Holmes raised his hand to stop what he was about to say.

"Actually, Stevenson, I'm afraid we don't need to go out."

Before Stevenson could respond, he felt a chill on the right side of his neck.

Something sharp pierced the flesh, causing a sharp pain.Extremely nervous, coupled with fear, the blood in his whole body became cold instantly.He clearly felt a needle-like thing stuck in his neck, another inch would be able to penetrate the carotid artery.During this daze, Nightingale opened his eyes and looked at him from bottom to top, with his raised right hand still pressing on his neck.

"I think I'll end up with you faster."

Stevenson froze.His knife was indeed still in his hand, but when he dragged the "fainted" hostage just now, he had already left her deadly place, and the tip of the sharp weapon in her hand had already sunk into his neck.

"Throw away the knife." She said again, "I killed you in self-defense."

Stevenson's knife fell to the ground.Three police officers rushed forward and handcuffed him.Nightingale suddenly pulled out his hidden weapon, which made Stevenson scream in fright, but in fact there was only a little flesh wound and not much blood flow.She put that thing in her coat pocket.Holmes, who had been watching silently, walked up to her.

"How is Mrs. Cunningham?" Her breathing was still a little unsteady, her heart beating like a drum.

"Sent to the hospital. I was hit on the head. At best, it was a concussion, not more serious."

Nightingale had nothing more to say, and both of them were silent for a while.She realized that the detective had been eyeing her with research eyes.

"What's wrong? I'm fine." She said reluctantly.

"Did you use a pendulum just now?" Holmes asked incoherently.She spread out her palms, and the long-tailed pendulum was lying in her palm, the long, slender and sharp tail was still stained with blood.

"The box on the counter was opened, and there was only the chain on the table, and there was no pendulum anywhere, so I knew it was still in your hand." The detective said, "It's too fake to be dizzy, and only a person like Stevenson would do it." Fooled."

"You don't mean that you don't worry about my life at all?" Nightingale snorted, "When a murderer put a knife on my neck, you put on a confident look, look It's driving me crazy."

"Honestly, don't worry. But as I said just now, I didn't understand until I saw the things on the counter."

"It's really reassuring," she said sarcastically.

"Okay, I admit this adventure." The detective's eyes drifted away for a moment, and then looked into her eyes again.The calmness of his face disappeared, as if the surface of the water parted, revealing the turbulent torrent hidden in the deep water.He often showed this look after the case was settled. "I should have thought he would try his best. I was careless."

"Actually, I mean..."

Nightingale was interrupted.As the officers were leading Stevenson out, the officer approached. "Mr. Holmes, you and Miss Nightingale are also going to the police station. The chief will thank you in person."

Holmes gestured to Nightingale to wait. "Is there room in the carriage?"

"There's another one here," replied the officer. "The one that went to the hospital has returned."

"great."

As soon as the officer had gone out, Holmes looked again at Nightingale. "You finish first."

"Aren't you worried just because you're sure I can do it?" she asked.

"No doubt," replied Holmes.

The author has something to say: Oh, I should have finished the manuscript deposit box yesterday, covering my face...

Looking at the timeline, it feels like it's time to broadcast the preview of Irene Adler's appearance.However, looking at the school calendar, I feel that it is time to review at the end of the term. . .How can Goddess Irene surprise the audience~~