[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Nightingale's Diary)

Irene Adler's calculations are more sophisticated than we thought.As long as there are people in the family, those people will keep an eye on the house, although it seems that they have already been exposed.We must wait for the earl to confirm the whereabouts of the second letter and withdraw the followers before we can go to the bank.But it can't be too long, because although the earl can be deceived, the messenger behind him is likely to see through this little trick.Robert and Holmes made an appointment to meet alone at the bank in the evening.To be on the safe side, Holmes even disguised himself.With the help of the footman, or rather under the arrangement of Irene Adler, we finally got the second letter from the bank safe.

Back in Baker Street, Holmes checked the doors and windows, and produced the paper.His expression was so serious that Watson and I didn't dare to look closely for fear of disturbing his thinking.

"No wonder he insisted on taking this letter back." Holmes finally chuckled and put down the letter.But his expression couldn't relax.

"What's the matter?" Watson took the letter and looked at it.

"Don't look at the previous ones, they are all nonsense. The important thing is at the end."

Watson skipped to the end according to Holmes' words. "What happened to the ending?"

"It's not the 'Your Faithful'." Holmes pulled the letter out of Watson's hand a little helplessly. "This plan should have been a big one, otherwise he wouldn't have signed this letter at the end of the letter just to convince the Earl. name."

Holmes turned the front of the letter towards us, and pointed to the final signature.It was a vulgar and non-arrogant font without curlicues. It was quite well-behaved and full of academic bookishness:

"sincerely yours,

James Moriarty"

"You know this man?" Watson asked.

"It's more than acquaintance." Holmes smiled wryly.

"I've seen this name before, but I can't remember it now." Watson rubbed his forehead. "It seems to be an engineer, or a university professor."

"Professor of Mathematics. He's at an obscure school, but you've probably heard of this book he wrote—Asteroid Dynamics."

"I have an impression of that." Watson's brows stretched. "It's hard to imagine that he would have anything to do with such a thing. That man is a genius. I still remember that he was only in his twenties when he published this book. "

"Whether you are a genius has nothing to do with whether you can commit a crime."

"Is there anything else we need to do now?" I asked hesitantly.

"To be honest, there is no way. There is no way to convict with just this letter and a signature. These can be forged. They have no conclusive crime, only a vague plan. Professor Moriarty wants to get the letter back, but he just tries to Just to avoid trouble." Holmes paced up and down the room. "Keep this letter for now. It may be useful later."

"For a person of his level, leaving his real signature in the wrong place is already a major mistake." Watson looked melancholy, "We hindered him this time, I'm afraid he won't let it go. "

Holmes smiled thoughtfully, but not at all pleased.

"Is it just getting in his way this time?"

"Huh? This is the first case I've recorded involving him. Have you fought him before?"

Holmes stopped in front of the workbench and gently scratched the surface with his fingers.This little action is now a little restless, causing me uneasiness.There are probably not many memories that troubled Holmes.

"Do you remember that bank robbery in connection with Brook Street?"

"I remember," said Watson.

"Of course I do. It gives me a headache just thinking about it," I said. "Too fancy a murder plan."

"Moriarty favors the profit method of robbing banks." Holmes' tone was very light, but the effect of weakening the emphasis was not necessarily lower than that of Gao Sheng, "or stealing world-famous paintings. For example, like Little money like Reigate's, and trafficking, which is so disreputable even in the criminal industry, he doesn't even bother to think about it."

"Understood." Watson said thoughtfully, "So Moriarty planned the bank robbery back then? He also directed the killing on Brook Street?"

"It can only be like this." I reluctantly thought about it, "letting his subordinates carry it out in the name of revenge for the father, covering up the fact of silence. The dead ghost was also willing to serve him, and refused to tell him until his death, perfect Borrowing a knife to kill."

"At this level, you call it a murder with a borrowed knife?" Holmes sneered, "and you don't have to think him scary. If you see him now, you will definitely think that he is a thousand times friendlier than me. There is no extraordinary charisma, just relying on Threats and lures cannot make your subordinates give up. If you meet him one day—I hope there is no such day—I don’t guarantee that you will be able to resist.”

"You think so?" I looked up at him a little darkly.

"At least I think so now." Holmes held up the letter again, and looked at it carefully for a while. "That woman is already very good. She is familiar with Moriarty's style, unaffected by his allure, and is surrounded by minions. London is more than capable of openly antagonizing him. Seriously..."

He sighed, did not continue, went to the desk, opened the drawer, threw the letter in, and locked the drawer.Then his eyes rested on the table, and he held up a coin with two fingers, like a connoisseur examining a piece of jewelry, perhaps a ring.It was the souvenir Irene gave Holmes in disguise on her wedding day, a gold one pound coin.He tossed it lightly and caught it again, the coin had a gentle metallic luster in his palm.The slightly indifferent voice and the well-regulated and elegant movements did not match what he said, not as natural as before.

"Almost forgot about it. I'm going to keep it on my fob as a keepsake of the adventure. What do you think?"

When he spoke, I seemed to be able to hear Irene's watery voice echoing in my ears in the church:

So, let's keep it as a little souvenir.

At this time, I suddenly wanted to cry.I have no reason to hate Erin.She is the most perfect woman I have ever seen.A man who treats everyone with tenderness while still calmly shooting his enemies.The person who gave me the first handle and gun in my life."The Woman" by Sherlock Holmes.

Holmes put the coin back on the writing-table with a gentle movement as if a drop of water had flowed from his hand.I realized later that there was only one occasion for this serious, dreamy look in his eyes.

Another curtain call for an opponent he respected.

"The Earl paid you?" Watson broke the silence.

"Yes. A thousand pounds—and this little thing."

Holmes drew a round amethyst from his pocket.

"It's useless to me. Nightingale, I think girls like these."

He weighed it gently in his hand, and threw it to me in a parabola like throwing a stone.I was startled, and stood up reflexively to catch it.

"You seem to have been wanting a necklace or something," he said.

"I have nothing to do with this case." I said dejectedly, turning the crystal in my hand, "I can't take it."

"Listen, Nightingale, if you hadn't entered Adler's house through Hilda Hopkins, we wouldn't know the truth. Not to mention you took the greatest risk in this farce."

I know he meant well, but now I can't forgive myself.

I got into Adler's house through Hilda.But even without this relationship, Holmes still had a way of getting in.I was almost shot, but it was an accident.If I'm really hurt, it's not a sacrifice, because it's of no value, it's just...

Unlucky.

After the bad luck, he did even more stupid things.

I couldn't think about it anymore, and tightly held the cold amethyst in my hand.At this moment Holmes asked casually again:

"Speaking of which, Nightingale, if you were forced to run around by Moriarty and you had the ability to fight him, would you run away or stay and fight him to the end?"

"Me?" Originally very depressed, I heard him ask such a sentence, and I said angrily:

"Of course it's life and death. Someone put a gun on my head, why don't you hurry up and punch me, and leave him a parting memorial?"

"Oh?" Holmes glanced in my direction, as if he had forgotten the question he asked a few seconds ago and wanted to recall it first. "Actually, I really don't know, and I can't explain, what is brave and what is stupid."

He didn't know that one word of his could send me to hell.But even if you know it, you won't hold back what you want to say.

"Holmes, I think..."

Before I finished speaking, Holmes looked at me as if he suddenly remembered something, and interrupted me directly.

"As for your novice, the gun, it is best to keep as far away as possible from it until Watson takes the time to instruct you. Watson, where have I hidden my violin again?"

If it was in the past, I would have laughed out loud.Now I just feel cold, as cold as a rainy day in London.I didn't answer him, but ran out the door before Watson went to get the violin. I thought he must be puzzled.I knocked open the door of the storage room, bolted it from the inside, and turned on the small light, and the small room was enveloped by streetlight-like winks.I went to the old desk and took the notebook out of the drawer.Mrs. Hudson turned out the old furniture because of me.I usually don't write in my room because the space is too small and the light is too dark.But right now I just want to be alone for the night.I filled the pen with ink and spread out the book.

Holmes' violin sounded, mixed with the patter of rain.I heard Watson say it's raining again.I took a coat and put it on.It's not cold, just trying to make myself feel a little bit safer.There are too many things to do today.The hand holding the pen is stiff.The sound of the violin might keep me up at night.I sat motionless for a long time with a pen in my hand, without writing a single word.

I shouldn't think so.

The highest compliment a woman can command from Holmes is admiration.Eileen was no exception.Such speculations about him are contemptible and narrow-minded, and only arouse his disgust and disgust.Whether this is hope or despair for me, I don't know.

I worry about what doesn't exist and hope for the impossible.He was cold, no matter how inspiring his smile was, no matter how convincingly reassuring and eliciting laughter.No fire can burn ice.What am I thinking, since when?

What am I thinking?

What can never be ignited is the rain in London.

What can never be ignited is the rain in London.

What can never be ignited is the rain in London.

……

The author has something to say: After finishing this chapter in a very gloomy weather, the air outside feels like fog.Depression (┯_┯)

This is the end of the first volume. We will bid farewell to No.1 for a while, and enter the second volume~ Actually, what is the name of the volume? I haven’t hesitated to come up with a result.