[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Manuscript by Dr. Watson)

My apologies for the fact that it took me nearly half a year to start documenting the general process of what happened, especially since time has passed and I have lost track of many details, or have deliberately forgotten them.But I can't write these words any day earlier, because I can't sit down at my desk peacefully when I recall any point of that time.It was already five months later when I finally felt that I could calmly record what happened to Nightingale.

What happened later was surprisingly simple, unacceptably fast, and desperate.

Scotland Yard finally tracked down Iris Adler.The irony is that she wasn't in Whitechapel at all, and she wasn't harmed.More precisely, there was no kidnapping at all.She was in the dining room where she usually stayed, but when she was supposed to rush to Whitechapel to meet McMurdo, a scoundrel in the dining room suddenly picked a fight and had a big fight with her. It took a long time for the restaurant to stop.While she was being held back, someone asked John Openshaw to deliver a letter to Nightingale, threatening her to go to Whitechapel in exchange for Adler.The scene where McMurdo and Iris meet again at Scotland Yard is hilarious.McMurdo, not seeing Iris, seized her and kissed her vigorously without saying a word.Iris pushed the American detective away and punched him in the face with a round fist. McMurdo covered his face for a long time before he could react, and finally wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth helplessly.

"Remember, kid, don't be smart when the lady doesn't say anything."

"Hey, gentlemen," Lestrade said with a livid face, "pay attention, this is Scotland Yard."

Facing the unscathed, bright and charming Iris, Holmes nodded and left without saying anything.I missed him and had to take notes at Scotland Yard first.Later Lestrade and Grayson had to come to Baker Street because he refused to leave 221B.

No news of Nightingale.

She seemed to have really disappeared.The police were not sure whether the person who delivered the message to her was brewing a bigger conspiracy or someone more dangerous than Jack the Ripper.John Openshaw acted like an idiot and couldn't say anything while taking the notes because he was too scared at the time.I can still remember the way Holmes wrung out word by word from his shattered memory.Openshaw was sweating coldly, and every time he said a word, he blamed himself deeply for a long time. Holmes and I made a survey around Whitechapel according to the address left by Nightingale. Several people claimed to have seen a girl who fit the description.Based on trivial clues, we pieced together the process: she passed Dorset Street to the warehouse, where a man in black was waiting for her, and they walked together in the direction of Miller's Court.At about the same time, someone saw a plain carriage passing by from the window, perhaps it was the carriage that picked up Nightingale.They were worried about walking her down the street.

Scotland Yard painstakingly searched the city with a lot of police force, roughly speaking.It was far more difficult than searching a Whitechapel and finding nothing.They could hide her anywhere, and it was almost certain that she would have no freedom of movement.It got trickier as time went on, she could be anywhere in the UK, she could be abroad, and in the end no one was sure if she was still alive.We are filled with anticipation and confidence every morning and depressed and disappointed at night.Holmes never said how sure he was, and every time we asked him he answered with the certainty that she would always be found.But when we pressed on, he stopped talking.Until one day, when Meili talked to me alone, she said seriously:

"To find her, to find her one day, is beyond doubt. The uncertainty is that we don't know what will find her, the person, or the bones."

I also thought so vaguely, but deep down, I never doubted that she would come back safely.I always believed that the door of 221B could be opened every second. Holmes, who seemed indifferent, pushed Nightingale into the door, smiled at an angle she couldn't see, and said:

"Our troubleshooter is back."

But these never happened.Every day I really feel the confidence being worn down in all of us because there is no news, not a smidge.Has anyone seen someone who might be her somewhere, is there any indication of where she was transferred, has anyone of theirs been caught...no, nothing.After being notified by Scotland Yard, Nightingale's family came to London twice, once it was her parents, and once her brother also came.Mr. Nightingale was relatively calm. Although he was also in a state of bewilderment, he got some information from Lestrade and sat aside silently.Her younger brother is a taciturn, even a little timid boy, hiding behind everyone, and we didn't hear him utter a word from the beginning to the end.The worst thing about it was Lady Nightingale, she made such a fuss when she saw Lestrade, they had to take her outside to talk, it was so indecent in Scotland Yard.After listening to the police officer's explanation, she glared at Holmes and rushed to hit him with her handbag.The officers began to hold her back, and she seemed much calmer, but no sooner had they let down her guard than she jumped up and scratched Holmes in the face, and it was with difficulty that they pulled her away until Grayson threatened The Nightingale family said that if this continues, Mrs. Nightingale will be given a sedative before she calms down.Although they were devastated, no one blamed them, and no one had reason or qualifications to blame them.

"It's unbelievable," I said, "her parents are not like her at all. Although from the symptoms, Mrs. Nightingale may have been mentally weak for a period of time, so it is not her normal behavior now. But Angela How did it grow into what it is now?"

"I think it's very appropriate." Holmes said, looking at Mrs. Nightingale who was being dragged away by the police. "Her father's calmness, or pretending to be calm on the surface, and her mother's violent temper."

"Do you believe that children will be completely different from their parents?"

The detective gave me a look of contempt.Only then did I remember that Holmes himself is a classic case on this issue.

When the Nightingale family left London, they were exhausted, heartbroken and hopeless.Holmes' relative coolness must have struck them as incredulous, even outraged.But I know it's not that simple.Holmes generally told me frankly all his moods and feelings when there was no need for secrecy.But this time, he didn't express a single word about what he thought about himself.Nightingale's friends in London came to Baker Street one after another to inquire about the situation.Hilda Hopkins, who was out of London at the time, telegraphed regularly to ask what was going on, but we had nothing to tell her.

Three months later, Scotland Yard offered to expand the search to include the whole country.We know what this means. It is impossible for them to search all over the UK. The rest is nothing more than registering Nightingale's name and existing information, and then waiting.Waiting for the day that someone might see her somewhere, or miraculously find another clue.Holmes did not attack Scotland Yard as viciously as we might have guessed.Everyone knows that most of these disappearances end in this way.

I noticed that finally one day, the residents of 221B have started to joke normally.But nothing can be harsh, because those who stay still have to live.Mrs. Hudson had to cook, Holmes had more cases to do, and Merry and I had to work so we could move into our own little home as soon as possible.Scotland Yard still has thousands of big and small things, and no one will stop for a nightingale.But I didn't expect it to be so soon.Holmes didn't mention her any more, and though he didn't usually mention the name very often, he didn't investigate as frantically as before.Sometimes I see him standing at the window of his room gazing at London in the rainy season, and I wonder if it was Holmes who disappeared, would I have recovered my peace so quickly, or on the contrary, would he have forgotten it too soon.I am sure that at that moment Holmes cast a icy glance back at me, and the rain smeared the glass background behind him and flowed down in patches, blending the outside scene into a blur of colour.I remembered that Nightingale once said something similar in a similar scene.That look from Holmes made me feel that we had been thinking the same thing.The rain reminded us of where she was in the rain in London, trying to get out, trying to think about us.

But if time goes on, maybe one day we will forget that she really existed, and maybe when we are old and sitting at the dinner table in the future, we will mention that there was a girl who came to London alone, there were so many stories, but in the end , Maybe no one can tell the color of her eyes, the books she has read, and what she has said.We may also feel that we are dreaming, that we are telling something we made up while we were half asleep.

But I think maybe this is the last page in my records that has anything to do with Nightingale.

I'm John H Watson.Here is my account of the Sherlock Holmes case dated March 1889, 3.

(interlude)

After a period of silence, the young writer slowly closed the old notebook.The old man on the opposite side closed his eyes slightly, as if he had been taking a nap in peace, and had never spoken a word.

"You finally found her, didn't you?" the writer asked cautiously.

The doctor was silent for a while.

"You can guess when I saw her again after that."

"It won't be long. Otherwise, where did these notes come from?"

"There are not many parts that belong to me." The doctor said, "Most of them are hers. I just write some occasionally."

"When was that?"

The doctor smiled.

"Two years later."

"Two years?"

The amateur writer stared at the doctor in surprise.

“我记得很清楚。她走的那天是1888年11月11日，我跟着苏格兰场的人在伦敦郊区发现她的时候是1891年1月10日，超过两年。”

"Unbelievable. It will be wonderful when you see her again, my God!" The writer put the manuscript aside and frantically flipped through the rest.But the doctor raised his hand and tapped one of the stacks.

"You should see those first."

"What is this?" The writer glanced at it, "This is still your handwriting, but..."

"I wrote it," said the doctor, "but not my memory."

"It's hers?"

"Correct."

"But why didn't she write it down herself?"

"Can't you guess what happened in those two years?"

The doctor raised his eyebrows and said.

The author has something to say: I'm sorry, I couldn't help being sensational again.Another BGM has been updated, you can find it in the background music section.Uh... and the next volume is about to open, I feel that this game of chess is quite difficult to grasp, and I need to brew it~