[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

"If possible, sir, please explain why you say that."

Nightingale really wanted to ask Sherlock Holmes if there was really only one consulting detective in the world, and why he would run into a random detective on the streets of London.

"That's offending, madam," said the gentleman in a casual tone. "You've got bad gin spilled on your dress, which you don't get in decent restaurants. Judging by the redness, the spot on your head The injury was from hitting something blunt on something long, maybe the edge of a table. As with the wine stain, it's no more than an hour old. Plus a slight ankle ligament strain. That is, unless you're in a Falling myself hard in a not-so-respectable tavern, spraining my ankle and smashing my head on the table, then it's an injury in a fight. I'm leaning towards the latter, because a trip won't hurt With that much force, at least it was pushed. The collar of your shirt (sorry, it should be the skirt) is a bit torn, and you pulled it hard. The action of pulling out the gun in your pocket just now shows that you are familiar with carrying a gun with you, and you didn’t touch it. Acted very shocked and frustrated when it arrived, so let's assume you lost it for some reason. Let's recreate the scene..."

"Thank you, it's very exciting, but I don't want to listen to the disaster I just experienced again." Nightingale raised her hand and made a "stop" gesture.She doesn't like to see someone she doesn't know "show a hand" and immediately express surprise without thinking.On the contrary, before she has enough evidence to convince her, she may still have the mentality of deliberately confronting this person.

"It's obviously not a normal way to communicate when you see someone on the street and start to deduce his details. For example, if I just saw you and said: 'Good afternoon, sir, it seems that the afternoon tea today is not satisfactory, Would you like some more brown sugar?' What would that be like?"

The gentleman smiled knowingly.

"Everyone in London is entitled to say that, but you should not, Miss Nightingale."

Nightingale took a deep breath.

"Sir, it's not quite right to say the person's name before introducing yourself. And I didn't lose the gun, it's just not here."

"I'm sorry, Miss Nightingale. But I think, since you still have a pin in your hair, you must have worn your hat when you went out."

Only then did Nightingale raise her hand and touched her head.Well, she forgot to pick up the lady's hat when she left the tavern.Seeing her frustrated look, the gentleman on the opposite side continued in a good-tempered manner:

"Miss, may I buy you a cup of tea?"

"To be safe, girls should not accept invitations from strangers on the street."

"Are you so sure it's a stranger?" He didn't mind her reaction, like an elder's tolerance for a reckless young man, "Didn't Mr. Holmes mention the Diogenes Club on Belmer Street?"

"No, but I'll remind him next time."

The sly expression on Nightingale's emaciated face lasted only for a moment, and immediately returned to a state of genuine joy.Cleverness is actually such a sincere thing, and stupidity often comes from obliqueness and cover-up.

"You wait for me here first." The gentleman said, turned around and entered the hall she didn't know what it was, and called out a waiter inside.

"Go to 221B Baker Street," he said, tipping the waiter casually, "find Mr. Sherlock Holmes and tell him that Miss Nightingale will have tea at the Diogenes Club this afternoon, and she will be escorted home. "

The waiter left with the message.Nightingale raised an eyebrow.

"Just now I thought the gentleman looked a little like someone I knew."

"Holmes?"

"Yes, since you know so well."

"Not 'like' Holmes, Miss Nightingale. Maybe Sherlock didn't mention it to you, but it doesn't prevent you from visiting the Diogenes Club now. There is only one rule here, and no one is allowed to speak except in the drawing room. Otherwise, the consequences would be quite serious, because the club is filled with a group of solitary but brilliant minds."

"Not 'like' Holmes?"

"Not talking for nearly three hours will be a bit of a torment for you. As long as you want, you can end our afternoon tea at any time. After all, it's a bit late for afternoon tea, isn't it?"

Mycroft Holmes took out a business card and handed it to Nightingale.

"Speaking of brown sugar, is it because you spilled the last bit of sugar when you got it out?"

When the two of them walked into the drawing room, Mycroft asked Nightingale, because he couldn't talk any further, which was his own rule.

"Basically, if it's not like this, just treat it like I'm just saying it casually. Correspondingly, you also tell me, how can you be sure that I belong to Angela Nightingale-Mr. Holmes." Angela said the surname still It got stuck.

"It's a rule of thumb," said Mycroft. "I don't believe I'll find a lady in all London who wears overly masculine clothing over her skirts, and doesn't look like she's forced by family circumstances in her general manners." Do this. And you may not have noticed, because the left wheel has been hidden in the pocket of the clothes for a long time, and the right pocket has been deformed. Girls wearing men's clothing with a .[-] are still fighting in public places , if there is anyone else besides that young student of Sherlock, I am ignorant."

Nightingale couldn't help laughing with Mycroft, the voices of the two were a bit loud, and the waiter in the back room came out to ask the two of them to pay attention.

"If you have nothing else to ask, please," said Mycroft. "There are books at the club, which I believe you will like. If you must speak, please send me to the drawing-room."

There were three rooms in the club, and they went straight into the last one.It's spacious and luxuriously decorated in dark tones and huge floral arrangements.At present, there are less than ten people in the room, and they are all well-dressed gentlemen, silently reading their own books or newspapers or standing on a ladder with a magnifying glass, looking for books on a bookshelf as high as two people. People are worried that he will step out and fall off.Mycroft picked up a book at random, moved Nightingale a chair and made a "please" gesture, and ignored her.Nightingale looked around, but no one objected to the arrival of a strange lady, because they didn't see it at all.I could hear my own breathing and heartbeat clearly.In this quiet reading environment, she felt a kind of excitement in her blood, and she tiptoed to the bookshelf to browse through it. She was startled by the monographs on mathematics and philosophy, and took a long time to pull out a book from the corner. The "Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy", which I had worked so hard for Newton I admired a long time ago, was buried in the armchair with all my heart, and I started from the beginning again depressed.The waiter put the tea and the tray beside her.And of course, brown sugar.

After about two hours, everyone looked up from the books and newspapers because of the conversation coming from outside.Nightingale didn't want to pay attention to these trivial matters at first, but when she suddenly recognized a familiar young male voice from the noise, she stood up from her chair in surprise.

"I haven't done anything wrong! Mr. Holmes said it was here, in Belmer..."

The only one talking during the shoving.Everyone in the room looked disgusted, and then looked at Mycroft in unison.Nightingale also looked at him, and almost forgot that she couldn't speak. Seeing her anxious look, Mycroft quickly made a silent movement, and she swallowed the name that was on her lips.She put the book down, and went with Mycroft to the outer rooms.

The trouble started in the first room.A handsome young man was being dragged out by waiters and club members.Mycroft motioned them to leave first, and helped the distraught intruder.

"Thank you, I don't..."

Mycroft pushed him into the drawing room before he could speak again.Nightingale looked on in surprise.The young man who didn't know where he was was calmed down, straightened his wrinkled collar and cuffs, brushed his shoulders, and ran to the mirror in the reception room, looked at the messy bangs and said sadly:

"My God, this hairdresser did it for me for an hour!"

"Do you know him?" Mycroft asked Nightingale.She raised her hand to cover the half of her forehead that she couldn't see.

"Openshaw."

The young gentleman who was busy arranging his hair in front of the mirror did not hear her helpless first words.

"Openshaw!"

A roar of the nightingale woke John Openshaw from his ecstasy.He blinked at the two figures behind him in the mirror, and turned around quickly.

"Miss Nightingale! By God, you are really here! How did you come to this strange place?"

"Mr. Openshaw, you may displease Mr. Holmes by talking like that."

"But Mr. Holmes asked me to come..."

"It is probable that we are not talking of the same man. This is Mr. Mycroft Holmes, Mr. Holmes. This is my friend, John Openshaw, Mr. Holmes."

Poor Openshaw shook hands with Mycroft bewilderedly.

"And why are you here?"

"I went to Baker Street this afternoon to look for you. Mr. Holmes said that you were at the Diogenes Club on Belmer Street. Since I want to see you, I will go to Belmer Street to find you. I found you according to the address. Here. Seriously, Angela, when I asked on the street, no one knew the name, and I thought I was crazy from the look on their faces."

Openshaw said these words in one breath, relieved.Nightingale was worried that he would offend Mycroft, so she secretly looked at Mr. Holmes, and was relieved to see that he had the same sympathy as himself.If it had been Mr. Sherlock Holmes, it would be impossible to let it go today.

"Thank you for coming to see me, and I'm sorry for what happened just now, but..." Nightingale unconsciously lowered her hand covering her forehead while speaking.Openshaw cried out again in amazement, seeing her miserable state:

"Angela, how did you do this? Who did it?"

Nightingale made a downward gesture as if to appease a blown animal, and carefully organized his words:

"It's all right, Mr. Openshaw. It was just a small accident. Now that Holmes has sent me back to Baker Street, let's go back to business. Mr. Holmes, thank you for the afternoon tea. I apologize for the trouble I have caused today."

Mycroft shook Nightingale's hand with a wide smile.

"Don't worry, miss, this kind of thing happens from time to time. Please forgive Sherlock's temper. Give me my regards to Dr. Watson, who has recorded all his cases. If you have any problems you can't solve, you can come to me. Definitely help."

Nightingale did not realize the meaning of this sentence at this time.

If there are "problems that Sherlock Holmes can't solve", you can come to "Ask Mycroft Holmes for help".It's kind of scary to think so.

The author has something to say: This Qingming holiday is a blast.Three translation assignments, one project report, one literature class assignment, two competition review papers, four backs, two foreign languages, and an essay... (goodbye hands)