[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

When Dr. Watson came back from outside that day, he saw Holmes piled up a pile of strange materials in the room.The detective is like a squirrel busy in hibernation, crawling up and down among its messy inventory.When Holmes handles a case, he always prepares some strange things by himself, which cannot be obtained elsewhere.The doctor didn't pay attention, and just came in to say hello when Holmes passed by the door:

"Is today going well?"

"Oh... not bad," said Holmes, trying to tie the two pieces of cloth together.

"You should consider sewing."

"If only I could."

"There must be someone in this house."

"Mrs. Hudson and Nightingale are out."

"It's only a matter of reluctance. I will."

"...No, thank you, Watson, I don't have to use this." Holmes conveniently tossed aside what he had just studied so hard, then sat cross-legged on the table and looked at the things on the floor with some worry.

"It doesn't seem to be going well." The doctor leaned on the door frame and said.He smiled as Holmes glanced in this direction.

"It's uncomfortable to have anything to do with women."

"Oh?"

"It's still the plan," said the detective. "You'll meet the lady who lured Jack the Ripper later."

Watson was so surprised that he didn't respond for a long time.Holmes still clasped his fingers habitually, his eyes glanced over the doctor inadvertently, a little cunning and a little proud.

"You really want to do this?"

"how?"

"It's hard for me to imagine who would be willing to do this dangerous task, unless—unless she doesn't understand the situation very clearly. Even Angela refused." Watson said tactfully.

"I won't let Nightingale go, she is not suitable in the first place. You are not implying that I deceived that brave man, are you?"

"No."

"Our friend has volunteered, and no one in London could think of a better one. You needn't worry about that."

"I'm not worried."

"Have you seen the nightingale?"

The doctor rubbed his forehead with a little nerve-racking. "No, I haven't seen her for twelve hours. If I'm not mistaken, she has communicated more with that American detective recently."

"It's also good to see how Pinkerton works."

"I doubt that that McMurdo is representative of Pinkerton's normal way of working."

In the afternoon, Watson had to go out to retrieve Nightingale according to Holmes' instructions.This trip was not easy. The doctor thought he would run around with Gregson to conduct a carpet investigation of all suspects within range, but he did not expect to find these three guys enjoying life in a small restaurant— —McMurdo, Nightingale and Iris Adler whom the doctor hasn't seen for a long time.When he entered, he saw American detectives and courtesans confronting each other across a table, while Nightingale watched with relish while drinking a drink.Iris's cat eyes are unpredictable, full of styles, and unpredictable, causing her opponents to often fall into it, forget what she wants to say, speak incoherently, and retreat steadily.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen." The doctor came to the table and interrupted them resignedly.At this moment he found that, except for a small waiter whom McMurdo would accost from time to time, all the waiters and guests stood away from the table, pretending that they did not exist.

"Good afternoon, Dr. Watson. Billy, give us another glass."

"No, thank you, no need." Watson stopped the boy who was going to get the wine. "I didn't come to join. It's just that Miss Nightingale disappeared for too long. We want to make sure where she is."

"Don't worry, Doctor, she will be in no danger with us."

"I don't think there's any danger."

"Are you wondering how we got this private space? It's actually very simple. Talk about Jack the Ripper in London where everyone is in danger, and immediately there is no one within ten feet of you. Give the doctor Have a drink, Billy." McMurdo waved his hand, "he's starting to feel embarrassed. Charge it to me."

Watson sighed and leaned on the edge of the table, acquiescing.The little waiter, who was only in his teens, had a smile on his face, poured a glass of wine and handed it to the doctor.

"Going on," said McMurdo, "where are we?"

"You said you suddenly thought of a faster way today."

"Yes," said McMurdo cheerfully, "that's what I'm going to say. Listen, doctor. Scotland Yard is in a state of trouble with Jack the Ripper. The sooner the better, but there's a way to make it easier." To catch him is to take a little risk."

"It is not a casual remark, Mr. McMurdo," said Watson thoughtfully.

"No, doctor. We have studied all the cases and the suspects who were caught and released again. Although we still can't find any reason, the conclusion is that the murderer limited the range of victims to such a person. : A woman engaged in flesh and blood business, of middle age, with at least one child, and even a family. I repeat, I don't know why he limited his scope here, maybe he was looking for someone, but it was difficult to determine where the target was, so Just carry out mass murder according to the conditions, hoping that one day he will be able to kill the person he is looking for. If this inference is correct, I can boldly say that as long as a woman who meets these conditions appears, the Ripper will do it. "

"You mean we take the bait?" said Watson, frowning. "Mr. McMurdo, the difficulties here are not limited to technical ones."

"I know," said the American Detective, "so I'm just saying that. Even counting men, who'd be foolish enough to risk being ripped apart for public safety? Let alone women. That's really not noble It's a case of nerves. No lady would do such a thing if you could save her life. Only a fool would believe that Scotland Yard would swear her safety in the name of God."

Watson glanced at Nightingale.Nightingale glanced at Iris secretly.

"That's because you don't know much." She swirled the glass with her slender hands and said, "If the two ladies present could tell you about their experiences, it would be as good as yours in Pinkerton."

McMurdo smirked a little exaggeratedly, and this expression made it clear to all present where the twist of his upper lip was—a part of it seemed dead, unable to complete a complete and coherent smile.

"I see your astonishment, ladies, and doctor." He leaned back in his chair, his hoarse voice was full of teasing and sarcasm, "Yes, I don't like to describe this to others. At the time, a certain death The guy tried to stick the knife in my mouth, but the teeth stopped him."

"Nerve damage." Watson said flatly. "I have an old friend who is also like this, but it's worse. He can't move half of his face. He was cut by a shrapnel."

"Are you really Pinkerton's detective?" Iris said casually, her twisted tone and half-closed eyes concealed the aggression of a feline, "not their little servant who is desperately holding a knife ?”

"We're not Chicago street punks, miss."

"Or, only real Pinkerton 'detectives' are qualified to say so?"

This sentence thoroughly annoyed McMurdo, who put his cup on the table, stared at Iris, and breathed heavily.It's not just annoyed, but it can be said to be annoyed by a woman's contempt, but it's not precise, because his eyes are not completely angry, but also shocked and a little sad.Nightingale and Watson looked at each other inexplicably.The doctor could see from her expression that she really wanted to say, I don't know what's going on.Then Iris smiled, rose from the table, went to McMurdo's side, took up the bottle, and nudged him lightly on the shoulder.

"How could I have thought you were serious, Mr. Tough? Here, you're almost out of wine."

McMurdo lifted his glass despondently, and let her fill hers.When Iris put the wine bottle back on the table, she lowered her head and whispered something in his ear.McMurdo made no response, and she sat back in her seat as if nothing had happened.This little episode made the doctor feel very odd and uncomfortable.He was beginning to fear that what McMurdo had said not just as a joke, but also what Iris had whispered, smacked of something sinister.

"We have to go back, Angela." Watson said. "I advise you not to drink alcoholic drinks with friends you don't know very well outside. Holmes has something to discuss with you."

"I don't think he needs to consult with me," said Nightingale, standing up anyway.

When Dr. Watson and Nightingale walked into 221B, a strange woman was walking towards the door through the living room. The two of them felt strange and stopped to take a look.She is tall and thin, with a severe limp on her feet, she needs to press her whole body on a crutch, and advances one high and one low, with a thick layer of makeup on her face. A woman with a decent source of income will not wear this kind of stage makeup Also coquettish heavy makeup.But all the people who appeared in 221B were guests. Watson took off his hat and saluted this fierce-looking woman in surprise.With a slight nod, she limped past them, slammed the door and walked away.

"Why is there such a person in our family?"

Watson muttered, and then called out into the room: "Merry, Mrs. Hudson!"

"What's wrong?" Mei Li asked from the back room.

"Who was that lady just now?"

"I don't know it," said Merry. "It seems that Mr. Holmes has been called in to help with the case."

"It won't be in Whitechapel..."

"I'm afraid so."

"Then I am in awe of her." Watson exhaled. "Where is Holmes?"

"He has gone out because she still needs to be kept safe."

"Wait? You mean they're already on the move?"

"Correct."

"That's no problem," Nightingale said, "because no one knows when and where Jack the Ripper will appear, so they can only try to appear in every corner of the Whitechapel area to attract his attention. Maybe it will take another month to see the result, maybe we can see the result tonight, it’s not certain.”

"To be honest, I'm only worried about that poor woman—although she doesn't seem to be a good person at all," said Watson. "It has nothing to do with my belief in Holmes' abilities."

The author has something to say: the critical moment has been delayed for so long, sorry

It’s really a blow in real life. These days, I feel that everyone has great strengths, but I am a hot chicken? T_T Thinking of many things before, I feel regretful. I didn’t do many things that should be done, and I didn’t use my time, but Now that I understand, it is too late to make up for it.So I don't have the energy to do what I like, so I study half-dead.The end of the term is approaching, seeing that Xuesu is about to suffer another serious injury, and has no face to go home, the whole thing is in chaos...