[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Nightingale's Diary)

I think it will take me a while to digest the weirdness that happened the next morning.

Hilda has fixed a time for my visit.I couldn't stay at home, so I went to try my luck at Erin's usual places.After searching fruitlessly in churches and parks, I went to the Bothwell Hotel which Holmes had mentioned.It was not appropriate to go in with my dress, so I stood at the door and looked in through the glass, and there was no her.When I turned around and walked back, because I was too focused on thinking, I bumped into someone.

"Careful!" The gentleman grabbed my shoulders and pushed me away from him. "Are you all right, miss?"

"Sorry, I didn't see the way."

"No ma'am, I was not careful."

At this moment, a female voice behind him sneered.

"Come on, Norton, a little girl who can't find her parents. They're still waiting for us."

Norton took off his hat apologetically, gave me a salute, and walked past me.I stared blankly at the woman speaking behind him.

She has chestnut hair, a long face, and a big mouth. It's still the face of an angel, but with courtesan winks and a meaningful smile.It was still that pleasant voice, which was so sweet and disgusting because it was deliberately protracted.

Maybe it's the contrast that makes me sick.

She sensed that I was looking at her, and looked at me curiously, the same way she looked at me seriously in the church.But the way she pursed her lips slightly made me frown.

"What, have we met before?" A question with a tone that is enough to make people's bones crisp.As long as she goes to strike up a conversation with any man in the street with such bright eyes and these words, no one will pretend not to notice—as long as it is not Holmes—but seeing her like this, I just shook my head silently.

"Very cute girl, but she is not good looking." She probably thought that what she said was very clever, so she laughed loudly, her voice was so sharp that even the people in the restaurant looked out.She pinched my waist with one hand and patted my shoulder with the other, which was a gesture resembling a gypsy girl.I saw a turquoise ring on her finger.I don't like the smell of her perfume today.

"Goodbye and good luck."

"Good luck to you too." I replied reflexively.She smiled again and walked over.I stared at them for a while, and they entered the private room.Had Holmes been there there might have been a way of getting more information, but I hadn't, so I went back to Baker Street as I wondered, bumping into three ladies, a gentleman, and almost a carriage.

When I went back, there was no one at 221B Baker Street.Holmes did not return until afternoon.Watson was later than him.

"There have been some adventures that none of you could have dreamed of today," said Holmes.

He told about today's miraculous experience.While following Irene, he discovered that she and a gentleman named Norton rushed to the Santa Monica Church to hold a hasty wedding. Without finding a witness in advance, he caught Holmes in disguise on the spot, and then the bride and groom went their separate ways. Ben something.Before leaving, Irene also gave Holmes a pound as a reward.

"I said no, I said I wasn't doing it for the money. But she said, let's just keep it as a little souvenir."

Holmes twirled the gold coin gently with his slender fingers.It reflected a quiet luster in his hand, the same as his pensive eyes at the moment.

"You are right. This woman is very interesting." Holmes looked back at me. "She is quite different from what I have seen before. Like a nobleman."

"The problem is that I saw her and Mr. Norton in Bothwell this morning," I realized that something was wrong. "At that time she was the same as you described yesterday."

"So?" Holmes fixed his gaze on my face.He frowned.

"Then she's gone too far. Was it necessary to switch roles so quickly?"

We are probably dealing with angels and demons.

"I think the problem is that she got married suddenly. It's unbelievable." Watson was so surprised that he took a long time to say, "I thought she would be entangled with the earl to death. If she decided to marry someone else, why did she still have to marry someone else?" To blackmail him with photos and letters?"

"Pure revenge is possible," I said. "What shall we do now?"

"When will you go to her house?" said Holmes, as if making up his mind.

"Just tonight."

"Still strange, isn't it?" Watson seemed to be preoccupied with the wedding. "She just got married today, but she doesn't go with her husband..."

"That's not surprising, especially since she is potentially dangerous now, and she doesn't want to involve that Mr. Norton." Holmes just confused Watson's question, "In what capacity are you going?"

"Just a friend. A piano student. Hilda in turn asked me not to say I had anything to do with the detective, because she knew Irene was sensitive about it." I replied, "My name was in the papers, I use an alias."

"Nightingale, you understand that we only have one chance like this. If it fails, although I will think of other ways, it won't be as easy as this time."

"Of course I understand." I said softly.

"Very well. Then we shall proceed as planned," said Holmes, placing the coin on the writing-table.

A little governess in cheap grey, hat and purse clutched in his hand, knocked on the door of a mansion in St. John's Wood, hoping not to attract too much attention.

A footman with an indifferent face came out and opened the door for me.Although his appearance made people laugh, I still managed to make a friendly smile after training in Sherlock Holmes' drama performance.

"I'm Hazel Green. I was introduced by Miss Hilda Hopkins to visit Miss Adler. I have an appointment before."

"Come with me, Miss Green."

Under the leadership of the footman, I walked into this house full of mystery.The house is large, but silent.I doubt very much if there is anyone here besides Irene and the footman.

"Miss is waiting for you in the drawing room." The footman stopped at the door, said politely, and then walked away quickly without looking back.Before I could thank you, I couldn't even see his back clearly.The door of the parlor was open, and the light shone from the inside.After hesitating for a while, I took a deep breath, walked to the door like an actor about to go on stage, raised my hand, and knocked on the open door, not even daring to look inside.

"Please come in."

This sentence is too short, I can't tell which style she is.

I bit the bullet and walked in.It was Irene of Bothwell who appeared before me.

She was sitting at a desk against the wall, with her back to the desk, facing the door.She belongs to the black category now, wearing a relatively plain black dress, which would definitely have the effect of the three witches of Macbeth on me, but on her it is the charm of the night.She didn't immediately get up to greet the guests, but raised her eyes slightly and gave me a confused look.

"Good evening, Miss Green." She rose from her armchair with the air of a cat waking up from a nap. "Have we met before? You look familiar."

"Maybe," I said, still reeling from my confusion at her role reversal.

"Sit down, please. Allow me to ask, why did you come to see me?"

"Of course it's because I like opera and I admire Miss Adler." Behind the smile, I secretly wanted to slap myself.

"Worship me? Then you've misjudged the person." She let out a mocking laugh, "but that's okay. You're a friend of Hilda Hopkins? A piano learner, have you ever performed?"

A long and difficult professional conversation begins.But I must persist as long as possible. According to the plan, from the time I entered the house, Sherlock Holmes and Watson, who were guarding outside, would throw a pyrotechnic tube through her window to give the illusion of a fire.At this time, I have to keep a close eye on her, because according to Sherlock Holmes' theory, in emergencies, she will reflexively look at her most important things first, that is, the photos and letters we are looking for.

But as if fate was deliberately against us, something went wrong again.

After sitting for less than 5 minutes, I suddenly heard a faint "click" in the air.I thought I had heard wrong, but Eileen stopped talking.She got up from the armchair, turned and pressed a spot on the wallpaper above the desk, looking like a wary cat this time.Then she jumped away from the desk and returned to where she was.I watched her series of actions in surprise, and I was still wondering if it had something to do with the photos.If so, why did she openly touch the mechanism in front of me?

At the same time, the windows of the living room opened.I can be sure that this is definitely not the result of Sherlock Holmes and the others getting the window wrong.

"Keep quiet. Hands up."

Two men crawled in through the window, both holding pistols/guns, aiming at Irene and Irene respectively.My mind went blank and I raised my hands stiffly.

"Miss Adler, please give us the things." The person who spoke just now calmed down a little, "So as not to cause trouble."

I didn't dare to turn my head, fearing that any action might attract a bullet, so I just looked at Irene without moving.The way she raised her hand was also careless.

"Green, my dear, don't be so nervous. It's only two hired locksmiths. The shots will be heard. They won't risk the gallows as long as you don't react too violently," she said. "Gentlemen, would you like some tea?"

I was shocked by her behavior.Although the words are very reasonable, speaking out now to provoke the other party may lead to the worst consequences.The man standing across from me raised the muzzle of his gun slightly, a threatening gesture.Reflexively, I leaned back a little.

"But your little friend doesn't seem to be that confident. If you don't take out the things, I'll pierce her heart."

what? !

For a moment, I felt that the place in my heart was empty. Before I could respond, I heard two gunshots that almost coincided.

The author has something to say: Today is Christmas Eve, so it was released in advance~Although it is not Christmas, we Sherlock Holmes and a group of friends have passed it, so I still want to say Merry Christmas~~ In fact, the sapphire case I want to write later is Christmas It's a pity that I didn't have time to write about it.Do you guys want a Christmas extra?Consider getting out before tomorrow night if someone supports it!

Irene's wedding with Sherlock Holmes as a witness is in the original book, and she did give him a pound as a souvenir. The JB version of Sherlock Holmes focuses on showing the passing scenes in the original book. Irene gives the coin to Holmes, and then Holmes looks at her carriage going away. It is a very beautiful picture.In the TV series, Sherlock Holmes said that he wanted to tie this coin to a chain. I feel that for his character, the emotional density of this move is quite high.

Frankly speaking, my heroine is not as perfect as Irene in my mind.Bit sad. . .

Then it's old fashioned.If you want to know how the heroine’s life is, let’s listen to the next chapter to break it down~ (If it’s true, what else do you write==)

☆、Christmas episode

1886 passed relatively peacefully, without Moriarty's direct participation, without Irene Adler, and Miss Nightingale had no lethal weapons... In short, Christmas in 1886 was complete and peaceful.Without reviewing 221B's little daily life on Christmas Eve, this biography would inevitably be less interesting.Let's rewind time to December 1886, 12, a snowless Christmas Eve...

"If you know that you are still studying so hard on this day, I believe your teachers must be very happy." Watson looked helplessly at Nightingale, who had been lying on the sofa in the living room and reading books all afternoon, "but the problem is , now you have no teacher, and today is Christmas Eve."

"Yes," Nightingale said without raising his head, "that's why I have to hurry up and read this book."

Watson went to the sofa, took the book out of her hand, and looked at the cover.It is a collection of Edgar Allan Poe's stories.

"Please tell me who first showed you this?" The doctor flipped through the book, which made his scalp tingle. "I have rarely heard of anyone who likes this person."

"Uh... I'm an esthete."

"Really?" The doctor closed the book and threw it to Nightingale. "Today is Christmas Eve, but you are looking at these weird things."

"It's not quaint...and to be honest, I don't usually dare to watch it all the time. When it's dark, uh...you know, but tonight it's totally safe."

Watson smiled and sat down on the only space on the sofa not occupied by her.

"Where is Holmes?" she asked, "he hasn't come back yet?"

Watson tapped his forehead. "He came back at four o'clock in the afternoon, so you didn't hear him tidy up in the living room at all?"

"……No."

Nightingale's smile was full of apology, and Watson rubbed his forehead helplessly.

"Go to the kitchen and help Mrs. Hudson cook. Although she usually doesn't ask us to help, she can't really stand by. I'll call Holmes. He has locked himself in his room for more than an hour, and let me pass. This kind of life, you don't want to live in less than a week. Can you two be more alike?"

Nightingale threw the book aside without looking at it, and it buckled down on the back of the sofa.

"Well, I'm tired too. I've got a few tunes to play with Mrs. Hudson. I'll see you when the pudding is baked."

She jumped off the sofa and flew to the kitchen.Watson closed her book and put it on the coffee table, then went upstairs and knocked on Holmes' door.

"Holmes, may I come in?"

He was answered by a crisp glass crash.Watson pushed the door open and walked in. Sure enough, he saw Holmes pacing in front of the workbench.The sound just now was made by him knocking on the beaker with a glass rod.

"Let's go, don't work so hard today. Nightingale and Mrs. Hudson are making pudding in the kitchen, and we have to clean up."

"I know, I just got ready here...huh? When did Nightingale come back?"

Watson really wanted to ask if he was pretending so much or if he really didn't know.

"You don't know when she came back?"

"Don't know. Didn't see it."

"She's been home all the time, okay?"

"Oh really?"

"When you came back, she was sitting in the living room reading a book!"

Holmes looked at the collapsed Watson for a long time with a puzzled look, and then slowly revealed a smile that was "just as I expected".

"Just kidding. Of course I saw it. I was so soft so as not to disturb her."

"Exactly. You pretended not to see her, she really didn't hear you."

"..."

"What are you preparing in the room?"

"Christmas gift."

Watson thought about it. "But haven't you got it ready for everyone? I think you've wrapped it up and put it under the Christmas tree."

"Yes. But today I had a sudden idea and prepared a special one for Nightingale." Holmes tidied up the utensils on the workbench and said casually, "Don't tell her later."

Watson nodded.Sherlock Holmes is inspired and must be stunning.

With Mrs. Hudson in charge, the dinner was sumptuous.She had no relatives in London, so Christmas was spent with the tenants, if not at home.Nightingale and the landlady played a few Christmas carols four-handed, and because Mrs. Hudson was procrastinating, she didn't realize that Nightingale had made any mistakes.Then they compelled the two gentlemen to sing to the accompaniment, and finally the four happily sang Christmas Eve in four completely dissonant notes. 221B has a warm atmosphere.

"It's almost twelve o'clock." Holmes glanced at his watch. "Let's begin now."

"Start what?"

"You seem to mind that there is no snow today." Holmes looked at Nightingale. "That's why I thought of preparing something special for you. Upstairs."

Holmes smiled and made a "please" sign.Nightingale showed a smile to show that she was not surprised, got up and went upstairs with him.Mrs. Hudson insisted on asking Watson, who couldn't laugh or cry, what it was, but the doctor couldn't answer, so he could only drag her to see it together.After entering the room, Holmes pushed aside the alcohol lamp, test tube holder, crucible, etc. on the workbench, leaving only a glass bottle in the middle filled with a transparent liquid. There was some white precipitation at the bottom of the bottle, which could not be discerned.

Nightingale looked up at Holmes.She didn't look surprised at all, as if she would be surprised if Holmes hadn't come up with this marvelous thing.

"Here is snow for you," said Holmes, taking up the bottle and shaking it slightly.

Nightingale stared at the glass bottle.

A layer of transparent snowflake-like crystals rises up, some are finely broken, some form large pieces of crystals, like heavy snow, hovering in the transparent organic liquid, erratic, and permeating the entire bottle.Nightingale's eyes lit up.Holmes handed her the bottle, which she intercepted carefully with both hands.

"For forecasting the weather, huh?" she said.

"Can't you, like other girls, quietly marvel at beautiful things for a while before thinking about how you did it?" Holmes' voice was soft.

"I can't resist beautiful things, you know," whispered Nightingale.The snowflakes crystallized gradually.She shook the bottle in her hand again, and looked up at Holmes.

"This is the most amazing Christmas present I've ever seen, Mr. Holmes." It was Mrs. Hudson who spoke. "You'll have to show me how to make it."

Holmes laughed. "It's not the same as cooking, Mrs. Hudson. But it shouldn't be too different. Nightingale, are you satisfied with this gift? Unfortunately, it's not real snow."

"Better than real." The transparent snowflakes were reflected in Nightingale's eyes, crystal clear. "It's too uncomfortable not to keep beautiful things."

At this time, the clock struck midnight.Both Watson and Mrs. Hudson looked out of the window.London is brightly lit tonight, full of happiness.Holmes leaned on the workbench, staring at the glass bottle opposite Nightingale.The eyes of the two people merged into the snowflakes.

I know you're not looking at me.

I just can't resist all things beautiful.

The author has something to say: The Christmas extravaganza that was promised yesterday, I have been working hard today, and it has already reached this point, and the author is about to die (TT) I didn't make it carefully on a whim, let's watch and play!How do I know if it snowed in London on December 1886, 12? 乛v乛? Put it here first, and I will sort out the episodes later when it is over.I feel that there will be extra episodes in the middle (≧ω≦)

And, for calculations today, the 20 years (approximately) in the copywriting has only been written for two years now.

But believe me, even if it's a bit rough, I won't hate it endlessly (/^-^(^^*)/