[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

The owner of the handkerchief has not been found for a long time.Holmes' estimate was good. No shop sold a handkerchief exactly like the evidence.The blanket search for witnesses also ended in failure. Although a lady in black is very eye-catching, it depends on whether people care or not.She was tracked as far as Regent's Park, and no one knew where she went anymore.When things got to this point, Holmes's frenzy broke out again, and he began to tutor a group of landladies headed by Mrs. Hudson in needlework, accurate the length of stitches and lace to one-thirtieth of an inch, and searched for them that no one else could see. come out features.

In the next few days, 221B was eerily quiet.Watson still went to work, and Holmes sometimes locked himself in his room, and sometimes he was away for a day.Nightingale didn't seem to be able to do anything but buttons, and couldn't help. He used his own and borrowed books to pile up a wall in the living room, kept silent all day long, and forbade Mrs. Hudson to pack her things.The poor landlady feels that the omen is not good from dear Angela's increasingly irritable temper. She really can't imagine the days of taking care of Holmes, one big and one small, so please come and accompany Nightingale as often as possible. , must stop this vicious evolution.Hattie came every day as scheduled, bringing all kinds of new tricks and news to Nightingale, and only then did she stabilize her emotions at the normal critical point.No matter what they were talking about, they always spoke in low voices, as if they were afraid to disturb someone.Except that when Watson was at home, he could bring everyone together peacefully and say a few words, the gloomy atmosphere in 221B was almost suffocating.One of Nightingale and Holmes has been downstairs for a long time, and the other is upstairs. Not to mention talking, they even meet a few times.

Things turned again the day Nightingale returned with an invitation from Hilda Hopkins.

"I don't think I understand opera," said Nightingale, who was sitting on the sofa studying French fruit embroidery stitches, "but since she's left tickets for us all, it doesn't hurt to go and see." .And there's a dinner party before the show."

"That is very well," said Holmes casually, "but I am not sure that it is proper for you to appear in Miss Hopkins' circle at this time."

"There are concerns." Nightingale said with her head down, "She hopes to take this opportunity to clarify."

"Clarify what?"

"Our relationship has not been affected by the rumours."

Holmes sneered unabashedly, and sat on the back of the sofa at Nightingale's side, squinting at the little lace she was busy with.

"You don't understand. It's also their talk that Hilda and I haven't seen each other after the necklace incident. Many people think this means there is something hidden."

"I need to warn you. You should learn not to listen to too many voices, or you will get nowhere. But I don't expect you to accept my warning. A woman can hear a thousand gossips, but not the useful one. "

"Perhaps these little schemes seem unrefined to you, Mr. Holmes, but we women have women's ways," said Hatty angrily.

As soon as the topic rose to the level of men and women, the detective immediately realized that the two women had already discussed it.Nightingale concentrated on threading the needle, her fingers fluttering up and down, as if she didn't hear anything.Holmes had to strain his nerves to deal with them seriously.He stood up from the back of the sofa, speaking a lot slower than usual because of his careful wording:

"Miss Dolan, there may be some misunderstanding here. I do hope that this matter can be settled before these matters reach her parents in Sussex."

"I almost forgot about Angela and her parents." Hattie was still angry, "I thought someone would guarantee her safety. But in fact, she has almost been charged with every crime in the code. It matters."

"You don't seem to understand, Miss Dolan, the trouble she's getting into may be alleviated by your method, but we must use our method to get rid of the root."

"Have you forgotten what the news I brought?" Nightingale looked up from the needlework, "Should we accept Hilda's invitation?"

"You have made up your own mind, so don't ask me," said Holmes bitterly. "Of course, you may need my presence to fend off any trouble that may arise."

Nightingale gritted her teeth and pulled off the thread in her hand without using scissors.

"Thank goodness if you can block it. Hilda kept your ticket."

"For safety's sake, tell me who she invited first."

"If this can make you feel at ease." Nightingale pinned the needle on the fabric, leaned back, closed the eyes that were a little sore from the long-term concentration, and said the following words like reading a newspaper.

"Having a relation or two of her own is not of much concern to us. The others invited were troublesome characters and ladies. Mr. Ronald Clovis, the critic, who had been on the necklace case Made suggestive comments, to the effect of believing that the two of us were inseparable. Then there was Balin Reginald, an actor whose reputation owed a bit to that Mr. Critic just mentioned. He was there on the day of the accident, and none of us It's just acquaintance. Speaking of which, have you offended this person?"

"Offended?" said Holmes amusedly. "This man used a stage name. He was involved in a shooting at a club gambling. He became famous after he regained his freedom. An ignorant crossover." critic."

"Ignorance is true, cross-border is not necessarily the case. He is a leader in some rumors about the two of us."

"In some respects." The detective snorted coldly, "wait a minute. Are you proving that this dinner table is full of our enemies?"

"you can say it this way."

"Then let me speculate that this is why you went."

"Exactly. And don't be too quick to object—that Clovis, he said..."

"I know. He has publicly claimed that the pending restaurant case proves that the deductive method is false." Holmes casually picked up the magnifying glass from the coffee table and wiped it on his sleeve. "But I'm curious how you know."

"We women have sources for women."

Holmes's smile was slightly crooked. "Okay, very good. When's the opera?"

"Tomorrow evening."

"Place?"

"The restaurant where the murder happened is next door to Smith's. I don't remember the name. After Scotland Yard finished its investigation, they reopened as normal. Of course, the location is much better than the one I had last time."

"I now suspect that you did it on purpose."

"I now thank you for being patient with me about these trivial matters. If you are impatient, we will find a reasonable excuse for you."

"Wait a moment!"

Holmes suddenly walked up to her and squatted down, looking through the magnifying glass in his hand at the needlework she was laying on her lap, which startled Nightingale.

"what happened again?"

"Based on your culinary skills, this is what you learned after you came to London, right?" he said.

"That's an inference. I would have done it." She pulled the fabric away from under the magnifying glass with some irritability, and Holmes pulled it back again, pointing at the stitches with his fingers.

"Before? Forgive me for saying that, it looks a little rusty."

"Whatever you say."

"There's something wrong with the angle of inclination. Not parallel."

"Hey."

"And this, in Mrs. Hudson's opinion, should be repeated stitched dots, not a miniature cross. And this . . . eh?"

"boom!"

Until he sat heavily on the floor holding the magnifying glass, Holmes never expected that one day he would be kicked by his own student when he was concentrating on observing with the magnifying glass.If Nightingale hadn't reacted quickly enough, he might have jumped up and grabbed her by the wrist, dragged her upstairs and threw her into the storage room, and then locked the door from the outside.Nightingale threw the piece of fabric aside, stood up, bent over and stretched out a hand apologetically to the detective who sat on the ground and glared at her in a little astonishment:

"I'm extremely sorry, Mr. Holmes. But just now, when you were studying acupuncture, that damned needle pricked me."

"Thank you, no need!" Holmes stood up from the ground, and calmly wiped the magnifying glass again. "If you help me up like this, all the people in London will laugh their teeth out. I hope you don't Such imitation of gentleman's etiquette to other beautiful creatures. It will frighten them."

"Then what do you mean?"

"I mean that you are imitating me," said Holmes, "but in fact you should be imitating them. You have a ladylike role model before you, but you do not hesitate to play beside her a nurse." The role of flower messenger."

"...Are you kidding me?"

"For instance—do you think about dressing up when you dine with Miss Hopkins' friends? Make the most of the time when you comb your hair?"

After thinking for a while, Nightingale automatically ignored the literal meaning of this sentence.

"You mean, you agree with me going?"

"Didn't I just say that you have already decided to go, and I have no right to interfere with your private social interaction."

"No, if you insist against it, I will change my mind, but now—are you really relieved?"

"Don't worry. So let's go together."

Nightingale rolled his eyes. "Stop me in trouble?"

"I'm afraid this time I will cause you more trouble."

"But there's still..."

"No other reason is needed."

Holmes raised his hand and made a "stop" gesture, and gently threw the magnifying glass back on the coffee table.

"Oh... is there any progress?" Nightingale asked, staring at his set of actions.

"Yes. And it's a remarkable progress." The detective looked at her with a deep look in his eyes, "To be honest, the reason why I am willing to spare no effort to carry out this kind of time-consuming and labor-intensive investigation is because there has never been a time without any gains."

"I see the danger now."

"It might sound unbelievable, but sometimes it's a little hopeful."

As if talking to himself, Holmes stretched out his hand to lightly wrap Nightingale's shoulder.

The author has something to say: I'm sorry to start risking my life right away, so let's take it easy. . .