[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

Holmes stood in front of the window, his eyes fixed, and it was almost impossible to tell whether he was thinking or not.The wind blowing across his face also carried his calm breath.

"Close the windows, it's cold." Watson appeared beside the detective with a pale face, and buttoned the first button of his shirt.

Holmes closed the window, turned to face the doctor, and sat down on the writing-table.The two looked at each other not knowing what to say.

"It's ridiculous." Watson said dryly. "As a doctor, I still have to ask a doctor for help."

"To be fair, it's not just any doctor who can respond to Suzuran on the spot."

"I'm just guessing." Watson raised his eyebrows. "Then I also have a part in saving my own life?"

"Based on the available information, so to speak." Holmes smiled reassuringly, and winked at the doctor slyly.

"I must admit that there is a huge difference between my personal experience and what I read from the materials, or even from the sidelines." The doctor kept his eyes on, and did not change Wen Run's attitude. A scientific experiment. If you were the one who drank that glass of wine at that time, I would have to ask someone to take paper and a pen to record the whole process of the onset of toxicity on the spot, and prohibit the doctor from disturbing."

"To be honest, doctor, based on my knowledge of plant poisons, I estimated that you would not last half an hour at all. Who knew it would take so long. I have to admit that I am a little disappointed in my knowledge reserve."

The detective's serious attitude really stunned Watson, and two seconds later, the two old friends who had just had a round of confrontation laughed.

"I came back alive from the battlefield," Watson smiled calmly, "I can't die at the tea party with the ladies and wives."

"You should have expressed this opinion at the time, and maybe you didn't even need to find a doctor."

"Holmes, I am going to warn you in the name of .[-] caliber."

"Okay, okay," Holmes raised his hands side by side in front of his chest, palms forward, "I don't want to compete with you in terms of non-brain power."

However, when Holmes' gray eyes dimmed uncontrollably and Watson's smile froze on his face, the fleeting buoyancy soon ended with a silent wry smile that the two could no longer hide.

"So, you still don't have a clue?"

"Just pretend that the man in front of you is the most conceited fool in England, Watson." Holmes tried to knock leisurely on the window sill, but finally punched it uncontrollably.

"We still have a way." The doctor's voice was very soft and toneless.However, his eyes clearly said that there was little hope.

"I feel that something is completely wrong with me." Holmes said with a wry smile. "Starting from the necklace, the scope of the suspect is so small that I can't do anything about it. And then the shooting. I'm never supposed to say that, right?"

"It's really like a line I've been saying all the time," Watson said.

"And now they've put the poison in the wine glass in front of us."

"Colorless, odorless, and non-reactive, it is difficult to prevent. Anyway, we found the poisoner and dug up other murders he was responsible for."

"Isn't that a trivial matter? The waiter dropped all five orange pits—but do you believe his ridiculous motive?" Holmes turned his face to look out the window, subconsciously not wanting Watson to see him. Angry irrational expression.

"We have no other explanation," said Watson, with a touch of resignation. "The insanity of the man who stole the necklace from the drawer and put it back in the owner's pocket is not your fault after all. Track down the lady." We've gone through all the normal procedures by then. Well, it's true that we shouldn't stick to 'normal' procedures. But now the problem is..."

"Why do all these center on Nightingale." The detective said seriously but without a tone.

"You can say that."

"Speaking of this, did I just forget to ask the most important thing to ask?"

Watson was not sure, but he thought he heard a little sadness in Holmes' voice.

"How is she?"

"It's all right. If you ask her own opinion, as soon as she wakes up, she can run to the street and beat seven people by herself." Watson reluctantly wanted to "sarcastically lighten up the matter", but the answer he got was Holmes' long silence.When he spoke again, he seemed to have thrown Nightingale aside again.

"I want to know clearly whether these cases are too strange, or because of some reason I have a... how to say? Malfunction."

"You are too harsh," said the doctor.

"I'm asking this question seriously."

"Seriously, you mean the case of sand getting into a precision instrument?"

At last Holmes smiled imperceptibly at this old friend's tacit joke.

"Or there are cracks on the high-power magnifying glass." He continued the second half of the sentence verbatim.

"You said the last time this was a problem was...a long time ago. You get it."

What Watson hinted at was because Holmes chose to be a consulting detective rather than an engineer, and his father, Sig Holmes, cut off contact with him.At that time Watson and Holmes had not known each other.According to Holmes himself, during that time, although he won his freedom, he could hardly work.

"What do you mean this time?"

The detective looked back at the doctor with a bitter sarcasm on his face.

"She still blames herself, but she shouldn't. The result of my inability to do anything is not her fault."

"What else do I need to say?" Watson shielded his eyes with his hands in trouble. "You two really didn't agree with each other? You are almost the same. Now I start to think that you are a bit of a problem."

The doctor walked away from the window and walked around the room, as if this would take away the dark atmosphere of the detective.

"It now appears that there is another solution." Holmes said in a casual tone. "Let Nightingale go back."

"Huh?" Watson looked up at him, "Where are you going?"

"Going home, of course."

"You're not kidding, are you?" cried the doctor. "If their aim is to destroy Angela, wouldn't it be nice to have her leave London?"

"It doesn't take so much effort to deal with her." Holmes raised one arm to support the wall, still looking out of the window, "You know who their goal is. You may not be clear about the remarks outside right now?"

"I know a little bit. They said it was Angela who poisoned."

"If one day people suspect that Holmes is exonerated from murder, or better yet, if Holmes is only busy with exonerating his own students every day... then what is the use of him?"

"But, but..." the doctor tapped his forehead, "it's not her fault."

"This is just the best solution at the moment. All plans are aimed at her. We tried to protect her but failed. Let Nightingale leave Moriarty's sphere of influence. She is no longer an obstacle, and they will no longer The conspiracy was spent on her."

Watson looked at Holmes' back.

"And then he'll use it on you."

"I can handle it."

"She may not want to go."

"She'll agree. I'm reassured that she knows what to do when."

"I hope she knows." The doctor shook his head. "When?"

"Tonight." The detective suddenly jumped up from the window and walked quickly to the door, "If there is time, it is best to leave in the afternoon."

"Holmes, but she hasn't—"

"Didn't she say that she could hit seven of them?" Holmes said while holding the door frame, and then rushed out.Watson couldn't react to the sudden vitality in Holmes' melancholy, and was stunned in the room for a long time.

According to the doctor's advice, Nightingale has not fully recovered.Doctors insisted that the female constitution was more sensitive to poison, and that, combined with her younger age, she needed rest.She herself simply couldn't stay in bed for another minute.Watson offered to give her his room.She lived in Holmes' room last time, but during this time Holmes smoked at least twice as much as before. She really didn't want to try that room that could choke people to death again.Watson also resolutely rejected Holmes' proposal to give up the room, and went to live on the sofa in the living room by himself.

When Holmes entered the temporary ward, Mrs. Hudson and Hatty were still busy bringing tea and water to Nightingale.Seeing the detective, they all stopped chatting.Seeing the complicated look in Holmes' eyes, Mrs. Hudson was the first to feel that something was wrong.

"Mr. Holmes, we..."

"I'm afraid you'll be asked to withdraw for a while, Miss Dolan. You, too, Mrs. Hudson."

Hatty was shunned again.Holmes inadvertently inspected her eyes, which were abnormally red and swollen.Mrs. Hudson whispered in his ear as she passed:

"If there is anything harsh to be said to her, sir, please do so with tact. The doctor says she cannot be stimulated."

"I think I know her better than that second-rate doctor." Holmes also replied in a low voice.

The landlady went out worriedly.Holmes turned his head to confirm that they had all gone downstairs, then closed the door, turned around and looked at Nightingale. The eagle-like bright eyes made people feel high-spirited.Nightingale, who was listlessly leaning against the head of the bed, couldn't help sitting upright, her eyes lit up.

"To be honest, I shouldn't have made that request, otherwise..."

Holmes lightly pressed his index finger to his lips, and gave her a look to signal her not to speak further.

"Since you think it's okay and they've already left, you can do whatever you want."

After hearing this, Nightingale didn't react for a second, threw off the blanket and jumped up from the bed, lightly jumped to the ground, and raised her hand to stroke the hair that was a bit messy due to bed rest.Holmes didn't expect her reaction to be so rough, and a little helpless, he pulled the blanket on the bed, covered her from behind, and folded the two quilt corners tightly at the neckline.

"The poisoner has been caught. There are still five orange pits, the same as before."

"I'm used to it."

Holmes frowned slightly, and then returned to his light-hearted self.

"Nightingale, I'm not a sweet talker. The sooner things are cleared up, the better for us."

Nightingale looked up into Holmes' eyes.

He found that this seemed to be the first time to observe Nightingale closely and seriously.This is a strange thing.He habitually saw the details of everyone, but he never used the slightest thought on her.In the past two years, she has grown taller, not as thin as when she first came here, and she looks like a child.Maybe it's a habit, maybe it's because she looks better than before, especially the plump face and soft features.It doesn't matter to Holmes whether Nightingale is Helen (beauty) or Graier (ugly), but that doesn't mean Holmes has no aesthetics.Puberty girls are at their most beautiful when they are at their healthiest.As for the future, it mostly depends on how long this vitality can be fresh.

According to common sense, he shouldn't have left her in Baker Street.She will grow up, marry and raise children like every other woman.No matter what happened to her in the past, everything before it was wiped out.Of course, she can live the life of other women, stay or not get married.Iris was right. At her age, living in Baker Street would damage her reputation.Who knew if he had ruined her in that way—probably, logically speaking, he had.

But what if she is out of line with common sense.

"You must leave London and return to Sussex. To-day."

The author has something to say: Valentine's Day is silently hidden, and the author is also a dog's leader when the plot develops like this. . .

Graier is the three sisters of monsters who share one eye and one tooth in Greek mythology, and are sometimes used as a symbol of ugliness.

The author had nothing to say, and went back to complete the holiday book list task that seemed impossible to complete. . .