[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

Nightingale was not surprised at all, as if all these had been played out in her mind before, as if she was thinking about the same problem as Holmes when she was in a semi-conscious state.Before he spoke, she had expected, or worried for a long time, that he would say such a thing.

"Today?" she asked peacefully.

"As soon as possible," said Holmes, abandoning all the graceful language reserved for women.He had a vague feeling that he wasn't surprised by her—a logical tongue twister.

"What about later?"

"It's settled, you can come back."

At last Holmes saw on Nightingale's face the ironic smile which he himself so often used.Maybe she didn't realize it, maybe she deliberately imitated it with the talent of an actor.This smile reminds two people of the same thing at the same time:

She hid when the storm was on the cusp, and came back after the matter was resolved, then there was no need for her to exist.

"Let Mrs. Hudson help you pack," he said.

"I don't have much stuff—I knew it wouldn't last long." Nightingale threw the blanket back on the bed, grabbed his coat from the bedside and put it directly over the pajamas, saying as he walked out.

"But I have a hunch that someone will pay for this."

Holmes turned to the vanity mirror, and seemed to meet his serious reflection.

The little box was placed at the door, just as it had been when they came, and the three old residents of Baker Street stood in the drawing room without saying a word.Nightingale put on her coat and scarf, combed her hair in front of the vanity mirror, and straightened her hat, just like going to work at Adams's house.Hatty treated the red and swollen eyes with cold water a little bit, and it was not obvious that she had cried, so she finished dressing.The whole 221B could only hear the sound of footsteps and clothes, until Nightingale was dressed in gray, holding a box in his hand, looked up and looked at everyone with dreamy eyes:

"Then, that's it."

Mrs. Hudson, red-eyed, stepped forward and straightened the collar she had tucked under her scarf.Nightingale and the landlady hugged each other.

"Nothing, Mrs. Hudson. After all, I paid off the rent before I left."

This untimely biting joke was rewarded with an exasperated slap on the back from Mrs. Hudson.Watson came over and patted her on the shoulder.

"Remember to write to us."

"That will have to wait until my parents put out the fire."

"Ok?"

"Job not kept, fleeing home from London with murder charges, enough for them to babble for a while."

"Has the taxi arrived, Miss Dolan?" Holmes said to Hatty.

"Wait outside the door."

"Go directly to the station, don't be delayed by anything on the way, and don't spend too much time saying goodbye."

"Do you think they're going to kill you?" Watson asked.

"I can't tell. Compared with the loss of tens of thousands of pounds, one life may not be enough to vent your anger."

Hatty pressed the brim of his hat, looking a little uneasy.

"You don't have to worry. People who have nothing to do with the situation are safe with her. Can I trust you?"

"I can manage that, Mr. Holmes."

"Must they go at night?" complained Mrs. Hudson. "It's safer to go out during the day."

"I think if they pack up before dark, they can go out during the day."

"Better start as soon as possible." Watson explained Holmes' mocking remarks to Mrs. Hudson in a more gentle manner.

"Is there anything else to say? I'll leave without me." Nightingale said in a high-spirited voice, "Maybe we will meet again in London, but I guess it is unlikely. Unless you go to Su Go to Sussex. It's a good place to do your job, not as good as London, but I reckon I'm worth it—will you go to Sussex?"

"Maybe. Maybe while working on a case."

"Maybe I can still help."

There was an awkward silence.Holmes took a deep breath.

"That's all I have to say, so—"

He smiled lightly, raised his hand and made a "please" gesture.

"So be it."

The sound of the carriage was no longer heard.On the contrary, Watson looked much sadder than his old friend.

"What's the matter, Watson?" Holmes looked back at the doctor who shook his head and sighed, and patted him on the shoulder.

"I hope you don't. It would have been a relief. It's kind of awkward having a woman in the family, especially for committed singles. I've been trying to forget it though."

Mrs. Hudson coughed heavily.

"I'll just pretend you didn't count the numbers, Mr. Holmes."

Dr. Watson coughed too.

"Strong singles, no 'them'."

"Gentlemen, you haven't had supper yet." Mrs. Hudson was the first to regain her composure, evidenced by her supper announcement.

"I don't want to eat right now. But I think everything will be back to normal tomorrow."

Holmes concluded in the same tone, and turned and hurried upstairs.Watson said to the bewildered Mrs. Hudson:

"It seems that only the two of us will have a candlelight dinner tonight."

"Who will light the candles for you, squirrel, do you know how much the candles cost now?"

"I bet there's still a free soundtrack today."

As soon as the voice fell, the violin upstairs rang.Watson cast a sidelong glance at the landlady.

"Stop talking nonsense and eat quickly. You young people are getting more and more lawless. May I trouble the doctor to go upstairs and ask Mr. Holmes to change the tune? This score is a bit too miserable for dinner."

With that, Mrs. Hudson set to work.Dr. Watson chose to sit at the dining table, ignoring her instruction just now.But the music upstairs continued to be melodious, and the more depressing it became, the more sad it became. In the end, both the doctor and the landlady stared at their plates in silence, and neither could eat.

"Don't stare at me like that, Mrs. Hudson, I'm definitely not going." Watson responded bluntly to the landlady's annoyed eyes. "We can consider hiding that tormenting violin tomorrow if he can't find it." We got away with it. Now let me talk to him, I'd rather jump out of a second-story window."

"You're talking more than our Mr. Detective now. Well, but it's just not right for the song."

Both saw their own frustration in the other's face.

"From what I know of Holmes, it was his own improvisation."

"He's a very affectionate man," said Mrs. Hudson. "Angela is such a nice kid again."

Watson looked up at the upstairs, as if he could see the person in the room standing in front of the window as if on a stage through the floor, the bow of the violin was as soft and melodious as the melody, his eyes were slightly closed, not in reality but in memory inside.

"That might not be the case."

Mrs. Hudson wiped her tears again and looked at Watson.

"It is difficult to say who Holmes would have thought of."

"Doctor, this is a bit..."

"No, I mean it," said Watson, "though I don't know much about music, but I have listened to his violin for too long. He is seldom frustrated, especially in seemingly simple problems. .It takes more than a parallel to his life to occupy a place in Holmes' heart."

"I'm not sure I understand you," said the landlady, "but it makes me feel like I don't fit."

"I'm not targeting anyone, Mrs. Hudson." Watson smiled freshly.

"But you don't mean to say that Mr. Holmes is indifferent to Angela's departure."

"Not quite, but there's a very different thing between being frustrated with one's own failure and being sad about someone leaving. I've met too many people in my career as a consulting detective to take time to remember each one. What's needed is not a parallel line, but It's an intersection."

Mrs. Hudson was stunned for a long time before she remembered to put the soup from the spoon into her mouth.

"My God, you don't need to publish those novels that Mr. Holmes laughed at, doctor, you should become a poet."

"Then he laughed even harder, right? Besides, I didn't say that." Watson looked up upstairs again, "She said that."

As soon as the landlady became sad, the wrinkles on her face became more numerous. "Angela should be on the train by now. Hattie probably went straight home. You said, one just came back and the other left."

Watson hurriedly took out a handkerchief and handed it to Mrs. Hudson who was about to cry again.

"Don't do this, at least she is safer now than here."

"Tomorrow, I think, everything will be back to normal again. There won't be all kinds of weird horror novels anymore, and hardly anyone will touch that piano again. We'll go and explain it to the Addams's, and we'll be done. Only the detectives." It turned out to be a pleasure for Mr. to be alone." The landlady shook her head and continued to drink soup.Dr. Watson pondered for a moment what she had said, which was exactly the same as Holmes's.

"She has tried her best to fit in. She has worked very hard." The doctor said with a little regret.

So where is Nightingale, who theoretically should have been "safer than here" now?

"Openshaw! Openshaw! Open the door!"

There was a loud banging on the door for a while, and the maid opened the door.At the same time the handsome young student came to the door.He was stunned when he saw the two ladies at the door, and then skillfully showed a gentle smile to please the girls.

"What's the matter, Miss Nightingale?"

"I... don't you guys have a club? Today is Friday."

Openshaw was speechless for a few seconds at this hasty answer.

"But now at this time the club has broken up."

"No matter what club, please let us in first. There are some troubles to hide."

"What trouble are you hiding from?" Openshaw was stunned for a moment.

"Dodge a [-] bullet," said Nightingale, "and I don't think it's any smaller than this size."

The author has something to say: the candlelight dinner seems a bit outrageous.But it's all so outrageous. . .

No way, I gave up being cute, and I can’t get cute? T_T This volume is so frustratingly written that I can’t sleep or eat. . . _(:з」∠)_Let the author cry for a while. . .