[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

Holmes' plan had been in motion for some days.Watson and Nightingale guessed that he came home early in the morning, because he was always away from Baker Street all night, and in the morning he appeared in the room well, fast asleep on the bed or sofa.The growing mental stress can be seen from his gloomy complexion.Even when he was awake, no one dared to talk to him during the day, because his deep-set dark circles and the way he gritted his teeth were scary.The Ripper hasn't made any new moves recently, and Holmes must ensure that Jack's next target is the bait he set, it must be like this.

Nightingale wasn't sure what McMurdo meant.Both he and Iris are often missing now, and even Gregson can't be found when needed, so the carpet search can only be continued temporarily.

She hoped that Iris didn't take what she said that day seriously.

The weather is terrible these days, as if on purpose.Overcast days in London are not uncommon, but oppressive clouds like this from morning to night, without rain, are not very common.

Nightingale didn't care about the date at the time, and with the later twists and turns, she had a very vague concept of the time period.But the rest of our party, including all of Baker Street and many members of Scotland Yard, remember the day well.

That day was November 1888, 11.In Dr. Watson's manuscript, one thing is marked next to this date: capture Jack the Ripper.

Holmes was away this afternoon.He meets Nightingale who just came back from outside at the door.They had not spoken a word these days, for Holmes had never uttered a syllable in Baker Street.In an extraordinary state, the two already felt that each other was so strange that they froze for a moment when they suddenly met each other.

Another adventure.

Nightingale smiled with difficulty.Holmes lowered his eyes and nodded slightly.He is full of energy, and his resolute look has a bit of artificial traces, as if he was trying to squeeze it out.I haven't had much mental exercise recently, but under the pressure of high tension, I have reached the limit.The two of them took a quick photo, and then went their separate ways.Nightingale slowly sat down on the sofa in the living room, and picked up a book that had been placed there before.Merry and Mrs. Hudson soon went out together, neither of them daring to go out alone.Nightingale didn't want to leave, and spent the afternoon reading books in the living room.

It was evening when she looked up.The sky in London is gloomy, with clouds and smog lingering in the air, filling the air of the whole city, giving people an illusion: it is it that invades people's respiratory tract and chest cavity, it is it that produces all kinds of nightmares and hallucinations, instigates crimes, and creates panic , all because of it.It was it that turned London so dark that no one in the street could see clearly into a purgatory.

Nightingale, who had turned pale from lack of light for a long time, closed the book and closed her eyes.She closed herself in the gloomy room isolated from the outside, hiding within the reach of the light, unwilling to take a step outside.It is not an exaggeration to say that she has now forgotten how many times she had been brilliant when she was ignorant and fearless.All she feels now is powerlessness and disappointment.

Human beings are such humble and pitiful creatures, biting and fighting with each other on the land of creation. The madness of one individual can cause a whole group to panic all day long, curled up in a small shell, and muddle through.She had been the one who dared to take a step into the dark world, at least she thought she was.But when the real terror came, she found in despair that she was as powerless as all the other reptiles, and no matter how hysterical she was, she couldn't break through this barrier.

If the doorbell hadn't rang at this time, she might be sitting on the sofa like a person who has suffered a major trauma, her eyes glazed over, unconsciously recalling all these countless times, as if reliving it again and again, and hurting herself countless times at the same time all over. The tenants of 221B all bring their own keys, and those who come are outsiders.Nightingale stood up from the sofa, walked to the door, took out a gun from the coat hanging on the coat hook, hid it behind his back, and opened the door.

As soon as the doorknob was loosened, it was knocked open by a rough push from outside.The man also fell in.Reflexively, she had really put the muzzle of the revolver on his chest.After pushing the visitor back a few steps, she realized that it was John Openshaw who was sweating profusely and had a pale face.

"Don't...don't..." Openshaw stammered, his lips trembling, "I, I didn't do anything!"

"Why are you panicking? I was shocked." Nightingale put the gun back.

"You frightened me!" said poor Openshaw. "I've just died once."

"how?"

"Open...the Ripper...Jack. I just met..."

Nightingale grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into the house, closing the front door behind her.

"Be clear. Did you go to Whitechapel?"

"How could I go to that kind of place!"

"Be quiet, sir, none of this matters now."

Nightingale's calm tone had an infectious effect on Openshaw.He made up his mind.

"It was in the park, Miss Nightingale. A man grabbed me suddenly and asked me to take a message to Angela Nightingale at 221B Baker Street."

"how does he look like?"

"I... It's hard to say, it's nothing special."

"Who did he say he was?"

"No."

"Why Jack the Ripper?"

"He said it was a message from Jack."

"That's impossible. The name 'Jack' was made up by a reporter. The murderer wouldn't call himself that."

"How do I know that!"

Openshaw was a little anxious, so Nightingale had no choice but to pat him on the shoulder.

"Excuse me, go on. What message?"

"You'd better write it down on paper. The content is: arrive at the alley 30 meters west of the warehouse at No. 20 Dorset Street, Whitechapel District within half an hour. Signature: I. Adler."

"Wait a minute, I need to write it down—how did you memorize it?"

"My God, if someone put a knife on your waist and let you learn it word for word, even "Ode to the Ancient Boatman" would be memorized in less than an hour! Besides, this place is two days away from the newspapers every day. The murder scene is not far away."

Nightingale quickly wrote down the address on a piece of paper.It is so miraculous that the first time she and Iris shared hardships was through a note, through this mysterious "I. Adler".

"Did he say why he told me this?"

"No. But he said someone would watch me all the way to Baker Street, and if I dared to call the police or run away, I would be killed on the spot."

Nightingale thought quickly.During this period of time, she had been making too much unreasonable trouble, and her mind hadn't turned seriously for a long time.The doctor was in the clinic every day without incident, and Holmes was not there. Even if Mrs. Hudson and Merry were there, her judgment would not be affected.The other party chose this time precisely.It seems that Holmes' plan has been revealed anyway.The other party asked the confused and obedient Openshaw to pass the message to her, and cleverly did not leave a handwriting.No, she didn't blame Openshaw for anything.Anyone who is threatened can only obey temporarily to avoid the most serious loss.

Iris encountered danger in Whitechapel, which should be related to Jack the Ripper according to common sense.If she had met the Ripper, what Openshaw had met in the park was not, but an accomplice who had premeditated the attack and passed the news to her.It can be inferred that they don't need Aris, they just draw her out through Aris.The message was probably not from Iris himself, but that as long as Nightingale went to that address, Miss Adler could be exchanged safely.

So it was her they wanted.Although I don't know why.It's not to kill her, or to say, it's not to kill her for the time being, otherwise there is no need to spend so much trouble.Why didn't they worry that Openshaw would call the police later?Wouldn't it be possible to follow her to catch them all at that time?

If she goes to the police, Iris will die.If you call the police later, it will be too late.

Nightingale glanced at John Openshaw who was still in a cold sweat.Poor man, he's still in the dark.

"Openshaw, do me one more favor."

"What?" Openshaw had already breathed a sigh of relief, but when she said that, his heart sank again.

"If you can memorize that address verbatim, you probably won't forget it so quickly. Go to the police."

"What?" he jumped up. "They're going to kill me!"

"Don't be nervous. Listen to me, they might just scare you and tell you to be honest. Even if they really followed you before, saying that you can't call the police until you report the letter, they must have left by now."

"Are you sure it's okay?" Openshaw was still in shock.

"no problem."

Nightingale's calm suddenly reminded Openshaw of her present situation.He began to feel a little ashamed of his surprise just now.

"But, Angela, you're not really going to..."

"Of course I'm going."

"No, this is not acceptable." He became excited again, "You don't know who is waiting for you over there, and your life will be in danger."

"But someone has to go. If you want to help me, go to the police now."

Openshaw eyed her suspiciously.

"Maybe we can make it," she added.

At present, there seems to be no other choice.Openshaw nodded apprehensively, then turned and rushed out the door with great determination.

Nightingale sighed.She took another look at the piece of paper she had just recorded, and the thin handwriting looked pale on the white paper.Without thinking long, she folded the note in half, went out of the pantry into Holmes' room, and laid the note on his writing-table.Then she went downstairs, took the coat from the coat hook, put it on, the gun in her bosom, went back to Mrs. Hudson's room, looked in the pier-length mirror, and pinned the stray strand of hair behind her ear.She changed her shoes and pushed open the door of 221B.

it's getting dark.It was cloudy and there was no daylight.Fog drifted silently in the air.

If Nightingale knew that this was the last time she walked out of this door as a member of 221B Baker Street, she would not be so indifferent and decisive.Although she will return here more than once in the future, she will visit the complete Baker Street in a complete identity, and will never be the nightingale of Baker Street, Holmes' student, or Holmes' nightingale.Holmes, who was on the move, didn't know that Nightingale, who might have stayed closely with him, was about to be completely separated from him.The detective didn't realize it yet, and most likely didn't care, but in fact, Nightingale's days of joking and joking on Baker Street, going through life and death, filled with joy and sorrow, ended forever the moment she stepped out the front door of 221B.

"Very beautiful, Watson." Holmes tore off the wig, wiped the makeup on his face, took off the skirt, threw it on the ground and kicked it away in disgust, "although I don't understand why you are here. "

"Is there anything wrong with that?" Watson straightened his cuffs. "If I hadn't come in time, you would have been in big trouble. And if I hadn't come, I would have missed you—" He glanced down at the ground on the ground. Fake, barely controlled not to laugh, "—a wonderful performance. This is an unprecedented challenge."

Holmes glanced coldly over what he had just been wearing, and finally settled on the crutch.Watson, who followed him quietly without knowing it, witnessed an unexpected and thrilling performance.Jack the Ripper forced a disabled prostitute into a dead end with a knife. Just as he was about to make a move, the woman across from him suddenly stood up straight and raised his cane in an attacking posture.

Standing opposite the Ripper is Sherlock Holmes of Baker Street.

"I'm glad you think so, but I still hope you haven't seen it," said Holmes tonelessly.

"You can't defeat this monster alone, right?" Watson walked around the murderer lying on the ground bleeding and unconscious, "A strong physique, a professional surgeon, it's almost suspicious This is my colleague."

At this time, a carriage rushed over and stopped outside the alley, and several people in Scotland Yard uniforms came down.Holmes wiped the camouflage off his face again and glared at Watson.

"What's wrong? I didn't call the police." The doctor said with a wry smile, "Maybe it's your brother."

"Mycroft won't be so nosy."

"You need to explain the deeper meaning of this sentence."

"There is no deep meaning, what you hear is what you hear."

When Lestrade and Grayson rushed over at the same time, the old partners who had just tacitly shared weal and woe were at war.

"My God, Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson, you are..."

"Jack the Ripper, at your service." Holmes replied.

The two police officers looked at each other dumbfounded.

"Take this... the unconscious person away first, and we'll deal with it when we go back."

"I suggest you tie him up before you carry him away."

"All right, then, tie them up and carry them away," said Lestrade. "Mr. Holmes, are you sure this is... the man we want to arrest?"

"Yes. He just pointed a knife at me 2 minutes ago."

As Holmes spoke Watson pointed to the Ripper's dropped knife.

"I'm baffled by how quickly you've come."

"That's not what we're here for," said Grayson. "McMurdo reports that a courtesan named Iris Adler has gone missing in the Whitechapel area."

"And I just received a call from a student named John Openshaw, saying that Miss Angela Nightingale was threatened and went to Whitechapel to rescue Miss Iris Adler."

Lestrade finished speaking quickly and looked at Holmes with a complicated expression.Holmes' eyes flashed across the faces of the two detectives.

"You went looking for it?"

"I did. But the address provided by the informant was empty, neither Miss Adler nor Miss Nightingale was found."

"Where's McMurdo?"

"Just in the back—he's not in the right mind. Women's stuff, you know."

At this moment they all saw McMurdo approaching slowly with his head bowed.

"Mr. McMurdo, I should like to know what you have Miss Adler doing in Whitechapel." Holmes' voice was ice.

"Nothing," said the American detective, his face obscured by the shadow of his hat. "I don't know why she's there."

"Allow me to say, this is the result of not being optimistic about your woman."

"You didn't think much of you either, Mr. Holmes."

"Watch your words, Mr. McMurdo."

Holmes' voice dropped, and he rested his hand on his forehead.Exhausted, was the only word that came to his mind, exhausted.No strength to argue.

"We'll find her," said McMurdo firmly. "She doesn't meet Jack's standards, so it's not because of him."

"Of course not." Holmes took a breath and said as calmly as possible, "Jack the Ripper has just been carried into the police car, and I'm the only one he tried to attack tonight."

"What?!" cried McMurdo.

"Holmes went to Whitechapel in disguise to attract Jack the Ripper, and then captured him," Watson said.

"So the person Adler and Nightingale met has nothing to do with Jack... This is one of the suspects we are focusing on. Scotland Yard is still in the right direction. A single-handed murderer with no accomplices... I understand. Mike Rowe Ford reminded me."

"What did you say?"

Holmes made no reply.He looked at the fog over London.

"I think I know. There's still time, we've got time," said the doctor.

"Mr. Holmes, this is a serious matter. We don't know where they are, or whether they are safe, or..."

"It's all right, Lestrade, I assure you that Miss Adler is all right. She's not their target, useless or threatening, and in this case, he will strictly keep his word, it's just that this case is too rare. "

"But Nightingale! What about Nightingale!"

The detective wasn't looking at anyone, he was looking at London.His gaze traveled through the soft and deadly mist to some unknown place.

certainly.If she can survive here this time, no worldly suffering can stop her.

The author has something to say: come out at the end of Children's Day, I wish you all a happy holiday (although I know you probably want to hit me after reading the content now)~Flag has been set. . .It's definitely not because I'm in a bad mood recently that I wrote it like this, it was planned a long time ago.I haven't been more busy in a long time,

Many thanks to readers for encouraging me in the comments.In the past two days, some messes have been cleaned up. No matter what, all kinds of things will continue. This is probably the bottleneck period in the legend. Grit your teeth.