[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Nightingale's Diary)

When I heard the gate close, I ran downstairs.

"What did he say?"

"Someone is behind the scenes." Holmes said in a low voice. "That person asked him to lie to us on the one hand and make fake missions, and on the other hand arrange for people to find the letter he wanted. This is very strange. He tricked us all around him. what is the benefit?"

"Do you mean the count, or the one behind the scenes?" asked Watson.

Holmes tapped lightly on the work-bench with his fingers. "All of them. Mr. Earl must know more about the situation. Although he has said frankly that there are criminal activities here, he has no intention of helping us expose that person. He thinks that he has reined in the precipice, but in fact he is still an accomplice of that person in concealing the situation. .It appears that the Adler sisters are trying to preserve this evidence."

"He must be of some use to us." I began to feel terrified, "This time, the count thinks it's a disaster, but it's within that person's plan."

"The earl and the people behind him don't know you exist, and Watson has nothing to do with this matter. They should only know that I am investigating this matter." Holmes didn't seem to have heard what I said, leaning lazily on his work On the stage, other arrangements were made lightly, "So now you two are still within the safe range. Don't worry about the rest."

I'd love to remind him that it's so easy to knock over the instrument.

It's not over yet.Holmes will not easily let go of a little doubt.

The next day, I went to work at the Adams house as usual.Constance began to learn to sketch.I am not very good at painting myself, but it is more than enough as a first teacher at this stage.I sat drowsily in her room for the whole morning without saying a word, just watching her "scratch" with a pencil on the white paper.It was she who woke me up when it was time for lunch.

"I've finished it," she said slyly, and ran out to dinner.I straightened my bangs, and glanced at her drawing paper, the black and white triangular shape of some unknown monster baring its teeth and claws.I should have known that activities that bored me to sleep were more torture for Constance.

In the afternoon I decided I couldn't do this anymore.The weather outside was not bad, so I let her play in the yard by herself, and read a book in the living room by myself.In order not to let Mrs. Adams see what it was, I wrapped the cover in brown paper and stamped a title "Grammar" vaguely on it.Madame is not interested in absurd literature, and even scoffs at it.I couldn't let her know that her daughter's governess liked watching Through the Looking-Glass.Although the author's first Alice-titled book seems to be more famous, I still have a soft spot for this one.

Just when I saw Alice rowing in the goat's grocer (speaking of which should understand why Mrs. Adams once said that no one in his right mind would read this book), someone suddenly shoved me roughly on my shoulder. I almost collapsed on the couch.I quickly buckled the book down, and then looked back.Sure enough, Constance was laughing.

"Why, do you want to draw another picture?" I sat up and said.

"No. A lady passed by just now. Let me bring you a letter." Constance likes to use the formal word "lady" like an adult, and she bites this very clearly.She handed me an envelope.

"Did she introduce herself?"

"No. She said you knew her."

"What does it look like?"

Konstantin's expression already told me that she wasn't paying attention.But she thought about it anyway. "Brown hair, black clothes."

I went to the window and held up the envelope to the sunlight.There is only one piece of paper inside.

"Who is she?" Constance asked.

Turning off curious little girls may seem easy, but if you don't get it right, it can detonate a bomb.I sniffed it close to the envelope, and there was a faint, unappealing scent of perfume.

"My neighbor." I replied.

"Why did she ask me to send you a letter?"

"Because we're...pen pals." I didn't even dare to compliment my ability to make up lies, "We wrote letters to say everything we had."

"Why don't you say it to your face?"

"Because it's more fun to write letters. Why don't we try later? Will you write to me?"

"I'll write tomorrow," said Constance, and ran out of the living room again.I knew she must be secretly belittling the "strange governess."She hates writing the most.I picked up the book on the sofa, walked quickly into Constance's room, closed the door, opened the envelope, and unfolded the letter.There are a few lines of beautiful words on it:

Nightingale:

At eight o'clock tonight on Cable Street, I'll give you the photos that don't exist.It's an emergency, so we must meet.Don't tell your teacher that someone is staring at him.

I. Adler

I slipped the short note into my coat pocket.It has me scratching my head.It's I. Adler again. From the smell of the perfume and Constantine's description, I can barely tell it's Iris, but it's not necessarily true. "Non-existent photo" should be used to refer to the two letters that caused trouble.She wants to see me because Holmes is being followed.Why are you sending us a letter?The only reason I can think of is that they cannot keep this evidence by themselves and need to transfer it to others.There's no need to play tricks on me.I have nothing and know nothing.

I should tell Holmes.He just said yesterday that Watson and I should not be involved in this matter again.Adler's warning, however, left me a bit undecided.If I told him that obviously he would not allow me to act alone, he would go, or simply go by himself, and those people Adler feared would follow him and find her and the two letters.Holmes did not tell the Earl of my existence, and he kept Scotland Yard a secret.The two burglars were street gangsters, already in jail.In this respect, "they" probably don't know me.

I slowly gripped the note tightly.Probably everyone, at least once in their life, insists on taking a risk when they know they're being stupid, and then want to kill themselves afterwards.

When I got back to Baker Street, I announced that I was going for a walk with friends for the evening.From a security point of view, this can easily arouse the vigilance of Sherlock Holmes and Watson.They questioned me at length who my companion was.I was surprisingly calm, and I reported Richard Clarke's personal information and the process of getting to know me completely, without revealing anything, and got permission to go out smoothly.I put on my coat and took a rare look in the mirror before heading out.

"So hard, have any boys dated you? My God!" Mrs. Hudson suddenly stopped me in the living room, "Isn't anyone going out with you at this time? It's too unsafe Inappropriate. Tell me what's going on, it's okay, women know how to keep women secret."

"Nightingale, you can do whatever you want. With Mrs. Hudson's loud voice, you should understand that she will never know how to keep it secret." Holmes' smiling voice came from upstairs.Mrs. Hudson angrily went upstairs to settle accounts with the loathsome lodger.Despite my turmoil, I smiled from the bottom of my heart and put my hands in my pockets.My right hand touched Erin's revolver (gun.

If Holmes knew what I was really going to do, he would not be so calm.

Who knows what will happen today.

Cable Street is a really bad place.Even if it is to find a secluded place to meet, there is no need to come to this dirty and messy place.The streets are narrow, with dilapidated two-story buildings on both sides.About twenty yards from me, there is a dead street lamp, which is all the light source at present, and it is the only warm color on this street.Why do they still need street lamps, obviously candles can achieve the same effect.It's hard to say which house here is the colony of thieves and prostitutes.I'm almost sure it's Iris who's going to meet me.Erin couldn't have come here anyway.I couldn't tell whether I was relieved or more frightened when I saw a woman in a black coat walking silently towards me down the dark street.Until she approached, I also kept silent and didn't say hello.For a moment I even thought we would just pass each other.I still put my hands in my pockets.Not because of the cold.The right hand has grasped the gun.Just in case.

"We leave England tomorrow." She stopped in front of me like a shadow, and spoke.Her voice was so serious and emotionless that I couldn't tell if it was Irene or Iris. "Save this well. It will be used later."

She reached for something in her pocket.At this point I'm sure I heard a slight "click" in the quiet air.

God, don't do it again.That was the only sentence that flashed through my blank mind at the time.

There are two near-coincident gunshots behind me.

The two of us froze in place like stone statues.A few seconds later, the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground was heard.Her hands were still in the coat, staring straight ahead, and I knew she was looking over my shoulder.I felt a chill go up my back, but I was too stiff to look back.

Not exactly an encore.This time I heard two voices not far behind.The first is as gentle as water, and the second is as cold and hard as ice.

"I didn't expect you to come too."

"That's what I want to say too."

The sound reawakened my senses.I turned around abruptly.Not fifteen yards from us, a man lay on the icy ground, lifeless.At the same place as the dim street lamp, a person on each side of the small street took a step out of the shadows, stepped into the warm light, and stood facing each other.Both of them are dressed as gentlemen, and they are heroic.The one on the left is thinner and the one on the right is taller.The silent staring at each other is like a flat song under this light.The man on the right has taken off his top hat.

"I'm sure the shot to the heart was yours, Mrs. Norton," he said.

"We can test the target, Mr. Holmes," said the legendary companion.

At this moment, Adler behind me screamed, took my arm and ran towards them, almost dragging me to the ground.She dragged me around the body on the ground and stood in front of the two men.

"Irene, I knew it was you," she said.She is indeed Iris.

I do not know how many times I have fallen into a trance in this case.On the left is Irene disguised as a man, and on the right is Sherlock Holmes.The black overcoat and top hat set off the delicate face. In the dark, there is no makeup and no coquettishness, which can overshadow Titian's beauty.Her smile was half a smile, as bright as candlelight, like a lamp.Holmes on the opposite side slightly turned his head to look at his companion, showing a slight smile.This is an opponent at the peak level, who can only be described as "handsome".

The author has something to say: Ok, OK, I know about the end-of-semester review, and the update notice. Facts have proved that the author is a person who can't stand loneliness. He was so busy that he sneaked in and coded another chapter.What's hot, the normal update still has to wait until the holiday, this time it was an accident. . .Accident. . .

Before I wrote an article, I never estimated how long it would be. I just wrote down, and I couldn't write much.After thinking about it for the past two days, I feel that I am off-line: I thought I would write a hundred chapters at best, but now I have already written thirty chapters!Horror, this is how long it takes to write!I don’t care what I have already written, and I can’t be too procrastinated later. The story will develop rapidly~ The sub-volume plan has also been suddenly decided to be changed. After Irene’s case is written, the adventure history will be closed, so later——The author will be offline on a large scale hhhhhhhh