[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Nightingale's Diary)

The morning light shines in through the flower window.The dark and solemn chapel gradually brightened.Stained glass shines through, casting blurred patches of color on the floor.Today is a working day, and there are only a handful of people in the two rows of seats.The cross on the podium is so tender in the light.

It was light, not sunshine, because it was still cloudy outside.It was cloudy outside because the sun was in the chapel.

The hoarse sound of the central hall door opening took longer than usual, and it went through a long process like a parabola before returning to calm.I nudged the notebook on the edge of the table lightly, and it fell into the aisle with a muffled thud.I got up to pick it up, and looked around logically, especially the door.At that time, I knew why London had been rainy for a month, and why it suddenly became bright today.Because she brought all the sunshine, because she came here today.

It started off a little strangely.I should start from the beginning.

Hilda Hopkins has just returned from performing out of town in May and is taking a break at her London home.She has greeted everyone in the family and I can drop by anytime.I gave my name and entered her villa smoothly.Hilda is not a low-key person. The decoration in the home is gorgeous and elegant, and she can name the author, year, and background allusion of almost every decoration, but I am not interested in this.

"You want to know Irene Adler?" Hilda screamed, the enthusiasm on her face disappeared when she heard the name.I quickly made a "stop" gesture.I don't understand how she can shout so well normally, but how she managed to keep her good voice like a London nightingale.

"Don't be so surprised. The famous Irene Adler is in London. It would be a pity not to get to know him. It's not every day that the chief of the Imperial Opera House sees—of course, if it's not for special conditions, it's not every day for you." can be seen.”

"That's natural." The London Nightingale's haughty look returned, "I think we were classmates at that time, but she went to Italy later, and I just stayed here because I was reluctant to part with my hometown in London."

"She was born in America."

"What does that matter!" Hilda said vaguely and perfunctorily. "We met when she first came back to London, and here is a photo of the two of us together. If it wasn't for her unwillingness to show her face , this photo is sure to make headlines. The opera stars of London and Warsaw meet again after many years." She took a framed photo from the desk and handed it to me.I looked carefully at the beautiful woman standing next to Hilda in the photograph, and got her face firmly in my mind.

"I wonder when you became interested in opera."

"People always have to develop new hobbies—what about her?" I changed the subject.

"She has a strange attraction, especially to men."

It took some work to separate the truth from Hilda's somewhat sour personal opinion.

"That's none of my business. Is she nice to people?"

Hilda sighed and leaned on the desk, just like she was holding on to the conductor's railing when performing on the stage, habitually posing a charming appearance.

"You'd better see her in person before meeting her. Photographs and gramophones can't replicate Irene Adler. If you go to her without any mental preparation and think it's the same as meeting me, You'll be turned to stone right then and there. I don't mean she's a gorgon."

"Okay then. When can I see her? I mean, see her?"

"She is now living with relatives in St John's Wood, Serpentine Street, Brioni."

I gave a wry smile. "St. John's Wood? I'll have to think about what I'm going to wear through her door without looking too out of place."

"She usually likes to dress plainly and go to the chapel." She said with disdain in her tone, "Basically, I have the opportunity to see her there every one or two days. When you want to visit, I can say hello to her first. "

That's the antecedent.I imagined many times what a prima donna would be like offstage.I figured she'd be heavily made up and jeweled, and one of her lipsticks would cost more than my year's salary.Even if I could memorize all of Edgar Allan Poe's lyric poems, I still can't remember the name of a bottle of her perfume.A female adventurer.A rider and gunner.Maybe she has a pair of sharp eyes without rouge, and the arrogance that tramples all men under her feet.A femme fatale.A famous deceit that makes men helpless.When he is in love, he can spend money like water for her without caring about her reputation, but when he is not in love, she is his nightmare.She knows how to hide her pride, win the favor of the man she despises, and crush him to dust.In the flamboyant world of Italy, in the smokeless battlefield of London, on the stage of operas, in the tragicomedy of the world, this is the most perfect woman for Satan.

But it seems that she deliberately proved something to me. She appeared in this holy place today, turning the colorful imagination in my mind into a blank.

Why is she like this?

If I hadn't been to this church more than once, I would really like to touch the surrounding walls now to see whether it is a wall made of stone bricks or a few sets made of wood on the opera stage.Is the door of the atrium or the door of the actor's entrance opened before me?She stood in the doorway, wearing a plain dress and curly chestnut hair.I couldn't see her face clearly at this moment.Probably aware of my gaze, she turned her head slightly and walked from the door.

The closer she was to me, the clearer I could see.She has a slightly elongated face, and she wears light makeup, only the eye shadow is slightly heavier.Proportionally speaking, the mouth is a bit big, but she has a smile that blends with her own temperament. I can't tell if she is really smiling.In this fog, anyone will only notice her charming lips.A pair of earrings adorn her face like two stars.At this time, I realized that the only jewelry on her body was this pair of pearl earrings. The light of the gentle jewelry probably came from her own.It wasn't until I could smell her faint perfume that I realized that when I was in a daze, she had already stopped two steps away from me, like meeting a long-lost old friend, with a gentle smile On her face, I could almost see in her eyes that she was saying, it's good to see you here.

If I didn't tell me with a clear mind that this is the legendary Irene Adler, the opponent of this mission, I really want to just accept her kindness that melts the strange atmosphere, and return a sincere smile, as relaxed as a friend talk a few words.

But I can't.Her quietness made me ashamed of my secret thoughts instead, preventing me from smiling from the bottom of my heart.I stood there absurdly, tongue-tied, still clutching the old notebook in my hand, and staring blankly.Even a gray bird would not be as stunned as I am when it sees a swan appearing in front of it.I was in this state for only a few seconds, but it was rather awkward for human interaction.

"Excuse me, can you let me go?" she asked.

"Ah, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." I took two steps back in embarrassment and wanted to sit back, but forgot that I was still holding a notebook in my hand. With a "snap", it fell to the ground again.I squatted down immediately like a stone falling, because I didn't dare to look at her. I don't know where this shame came from.Before my hand can touch the notebook, a long-fingered hand rests on it and takes it away.I stood up in panic, and saw her palm up, handing the notebook in front of me.

"Thank you...thank you." I took it over and found that my language function had deteriorated severely.She smiled at me again and walked past me.The faint scent of perfume is gone.I just realized my stupid behavior before, but I couldn't leave right away, so I had to bite the bullet and sit back in my original position.I glanced forward and saw that she had taken a seat in the first row.After thinking about it again and again, I felt that I couldn't bring up any more topics, and I couldn't see any more information, so I planned to sit for a while and leave quietly.

She said only one sentence, but I remembered every word, playing it back in my head like a gramophone.Her voice belonged to the nuns in the choir, to a queen.

If this were the age of chivalry, I would also be willing to serve such a mistress.

When I saw the light of day again, I still didn't feel very clear-headed.It must have something to do with your literature major, not because she's such a shocker.I say to myself like a fool poet.Ordinary people may not have so many emotions as I do. Only those with a strong literary temperament will casually connect real people with their own literary ideals and create a perfect image that is beyond ordinary people.Thinking about it this way, I am calmer than before.Eileen will probably stay in the church for a long time, so I decided to go back to Baker Street first.

Only Watson was at home in the afternoon.I talked to him about today's experience for a while, and although I tried to avoid embellishment, he still felt that I was a bit out of line.It was not until evening that Holmes opened the door of 221B.

"Have you seen her?" I asked.

"I see, to be precise, I should have seen it." Holmes lazily tossed his coat on the coat hook. "The weather is fine today, and it's a bit hot to wear."

"What impression do you have?"

"What impression?" Holmes undid the first button of his shirt, and sat down on the sofa.In less than five seconds, Mr. Holmes, who was elegant and tidy on the outside, turned into a lazy Baker Street detective. "Nothing to say. Just a woman."

"Is there anything better to say?"

"No. If I had to say it, it would be the exact opposite."

"Ok?"

"An ordinary courtesan, with heavy makeup, putting on a show, that's all. Although she was seen in a decent restaurant, to be honest, her appearance is not worthy of the status she has."

After saying these unkind words, Holmes just turned away from me.Watson looked at him, then at me, and felt that it was impossible to smooth things over this time, so he simply followed his own catchphrase and gave up.

"Are... are you sure you saw her?" I couldn't believe my ears.

"Sure. I saw her come out of the house. St. John's Wood, Serpentine Street, Brioni."

"But there were other people in that house."

"She has curly chestnut hair, a long face, and a bit of a big mouth. I managed to read the registration signatures they booked, G. Norton and I. Adler." However, it is possible for me to succeed in denying his proposition.

"That's right." I said dejectedly.

"She was having dinner with a gentleman. Her laughter could be heard in the street. I walked past her and she threw her handkerchief on the ground in front of me without any disguise, and I couldn't help it. If I didn’t pick it up and return it to her, she even gave me a wink.”

After saying this, Holmes leaned back on the sofa, closed his eyes and meditated, and ignored me again.Both Watson and I knew that he was thinking about the following things, so it was better not to interrupt him.But my diametrically opposed observations from Holmes's have puzzled me.

Is she really a woman with two sides, day and night?

The author has something to say: Come back on time!Dear friends, let me see your hands!

Goddess Irene arrived as scheduled, and it took a lot of thought to write this paragraph.

The prototype of Irene Adler in this article is the JB version of Sherlock Holmes, played by Gail Henny Carter (also Lady Jenkins), I like the most and the only version I agree with.She is inferior to the peerless appearance that the original novel tried to exaggerate, but she perfectly presents a peerless beauty with both gentleness and fortitude.Such an Irene is definitely worthy of being "thewoman" of Sherlock Holmes.