[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

The author has something to say: Sociologists really began to take Stockholm syndrome as a scientific research object from the Stockholm bank robbery in Sweden in 1973, but it is conceivable that although there was no such term before that, such phenomena must be more existed earlier.This volume is so named because the approach that Professor Moriarty takes in this volume is in fact the more classic Stockholm Syndrome.

The purpose of the fourth volume is to get the nightingale out, and there is not much to say about the plot of Jack the Ripper, and the plot in "Sherlock Holmes on Baker Street" was originally used. It is not original, and the original text is very exciting. , so explain the whereabouts of each character is over.

The current development of the plot obviously deviates from the normal line, which indicates that the author may die without remembering the lesson, but the story will continue.As long as Miss Nightingale survives tenaciously until we meet again, it will be a victory.Sherlock Holmes will appear after a while, but I promise, I promise that I will not treat Mr. Detective badly.

(The records compiled by Dr. Watson based on Nightingale's memories are mostly real memories, and a small part is speculation to complement the plot, and the whole is presented in the form of God's perspective)

When Nightingale woke up, there was darkness in front of him.

For a moment, she thought she was blind, and the horror rushed up to her chest like ice water, but it didn't last long, thinking that she immediately realized that there was no light source where she was, and she couldn't see her fingers.She felt a dull pain in her nerves, not a real injury, but more like the result of sleeping for too long.This nauseating, almost unconscious reaction lasted for a while before she regained her thoughts.

Feeling that she was lying flat on the ground with her side against the wall, she tried to move her limbs, but found that her hands were tied behind her back and her ankles were tied together.She struggled for a long time to sit up, then knelt down, trying to reach the knot on her foot from behind.Apparently not everyone can get their hands under their feet, her arms aren't long enough.She tried to untie the rope from behind her feet, but the rope was tied too tightly, and the knot was as hard as a rock.This stiff effort didn't last long before she sat back down on the ground in frustration.

The instinctive self-help struggle is followed by calm logical thinking.

Her last memory is of walking out of the street and getting into the carriage with the person who had rounded up with her.The man was dressed simply and low-key, with the brim of his hat pulled down very low, no matter what she asked, he didn't speak, but she knew that he had a gun in his hand that was always hidden in his pocket.She had a gun in her pocket, too, in her hand, but she was never ready to use it.He'd shoot, he wasn't a rookie like Hattie Dolan, he'd shoot before she did.As soon as they met, he easily raised his hand and took the gun from her pocket, as simple as she was an immobile dummy.Even so, just as she got into the carriage under his gaze, a handkerchief was pressed against her face from behind suddenly, and a strong pungent smell flooded into her respiratory tract.They thought too highly of her to even let her be held hostage while awake.

Always the same old way.She was still thinking about it the moment before she lost consciousness.

And here she is.Unscathed, but the gun was searched, no glasses, bound hands and feet, no negligence, although she couldn't think of any reason for doing it.If kidnapping her doesn't make any sense without pursuing her, they've done a pretty clean job anyway.

She didn't know how long she had been in the dark.No one came, no sound was heard.After about an hour, she had pretty much gone from being as alert as a deer to being as lazy as a cat.After all, it is a waste of energy to be afraid, panic or cranky when you don't know anything.

Then somewhere the door opened.Someone turned on a dim light, but not enough to see the man's face.Nightingale's only judgment on him was his heavy stride.He walked over to her and untied the ropes around her hands and feet.She keenly felt that he was casual and indifferent, as if he was unchaining a dog, and always avoided touching her with disgust.He didn't take her seriously, and he wasn't worried that she would resist, because she couldn't run out.

"Where is this?" she asked quietly—omitting "who are you" or "where am I?"

There will be no answer.People don't negotiate terms with dogs.

All right.Then she can only hope that he will leave quickly, because she needs to use this light to study the environment and calculate how much capital she has on her side.

After the door was locked again, she stood up and walked around the entire space while leaning on the wall.Unexpectedly, this is not the kind of prison cell she imagined, but a room about the size of a single apartment, and even a bathroom and toilet. what things to see.The room was empty, devoid of any furniture or furnishings.She found where the window used to be, now it was boarded up, and she couldn't get it open.When that person left, he even took away the rope. Although his limbs were free, there was no essential difference from before.They were too careful not to leave her with anything that could be called a tool, even if it seemed useless.

On the first day someone came and brought her bread and soup.It occurred to her that she could tell the time by the three meals a day.The person who came still didn't speak, put down the things, watched her finish eating, and then left with the tableware.Nightingale never thought about going on a hunger strike, because she faintly felt that no one would know that she died here, and there would be no loss, especially since they hadn't invested in her yet.The next day, someone still delivered the food on time. She determined from her height and gait that several people took turns to deliver the food, but she didn't talk to any of them.The person who first came to untie her was never seen again.

At first, she was thankful that her life was not in danger for the time being, but soon she discovered that it is impossible for people to live in a long-term dark environment without communication.

She became irritable, uncontrollably irritable, because she needed to talk to someone and listen to someone.She used to be a person who talked non-stop when she saw acquaintances, but now she hasn't made a sound or heard a word in three days, which is her limit.The prolonged darkness and lethargy made her feel nauseous, which was not relieved by the sight of food, for she had no food.There was no pen and paper, nothing with writing on it, and if there were a book, even Newton's in the original Latin, she would chew on it letter by letter in the barely visible light.She tried to cry a few times and felt better for a short time, but in the end there were no more tears.It's a feeling of being held underwater and unable to breathe. It's not sad, it can be said to be terrifying.

Now she needs two things, she managed to pull herself together and think, sunshine and communication.

Sunlight couldn't do it, she tried in desperation, and the window couldn't be pried open.But when she suddenly thought that the problem of communication is actually easy to solve, she couldn't wait to slap herself twice.There is no need to worry about diet, and she does not need to save energy, so there is no obstacle to this countermeasure.This kind of excitement and spontaneous fighting spirit immediately made her hopeful again, and even made her playful.

It couldn't be easier for a student of literature.She began to talk to herself, recalling the past, pretending that there was a person in front of her who wanted to know the story of her life, and told everything in detail, and she would stand up and perform when she was excited, or answer herself.After a week, she felt that it was also very boring, especially the darkness that oppressed her made her unable to breathe. She wanted to fight and struggle. She not only needed verbal communication, but also needed to move her limbs.This is not difficult to do.She began to be unable to distinguish between reality and dreams, as if she did not know day and night, but when she could still sort out her thoughts, she persisted in thinking, speaking, and even acting.She tried to recall what she dreamed or imagined, memorize it, weave it into the lines, and retell it, so that there are some fresh things to think about.

A month later, the person who came to deliver the food froze as soon as he opened the door.Because in the dim light he saw the little prisoner walking up and down in the middle of the room, making all kinds of exaggerated movements, instead of being motionless and muttering to himself as before.He didn't come in right away, but stood vigilantly at the door and watched for a while, in case there was any trick.But when he heard what the girl said, he almost turned his head away.

"If it were not for the fear of the unknown after death, of the mysterious country from which no traveler returns! It would confuse our will..."

What are you kidding?Playing "Hamlet" alone in a cell?Could it be that she was driven crazy so quickly?

But their prisoner shows no sign of a nervous breakdown, performing rigorously and emotively.The voice is high, cadenced, and the gestures are elegant and decent.

"Beautiful Ophelia, goddess! Do not forget to confess my sins in your prayers!"

Immediately afterwards, she suddenly jumped to the opposite position, restrained her breath, and her voice became soft and gentle.

"My lord, how are you doing recently?"

Then it jumped back, and the voice deepened again.

"Thank you, I'm fine, fine, fine."

The person who came to deliver the food couldn't stand it anymore.Not only played Shakespeare, but also played multiple roles.I don’t know if she can memorize the entire script, but there is no doubt that when necessary, she will definitely memorize the king, queen, Hamlet, Ophelia, Polonius and the prince, the two poor classmates. We acted together.He gritted his teeth, didn't put down the food, but turned around and went out again.

Hearing the sound of the door closing, Nightingale stopped.

Is he looking for someone?Are you going to come up with a new trick?

What is certain is that she has never been more motivated and refreshed since she was captured here.She doesn't know who they are and what they want to do, but no matter what will appear next, even if it is a demon, she has the courage to fight and go to hell.But thinking so, she no longer had the same mood as before and continued to play tricks.She slowly sat on the ground, staring at the door that would open at any moment.

There were calm, but not heavy footsteps outside.

There was a clang of keys, and the door opened.

A vague figure stood at the door.From the silhouette, she deduced that this person was wearing a long dress like the doctor's, slender and solemn.She intuitively felt that he was looking at her, his eyes were calm, and he was looking at her intently.She couldn't judge his emotions, whether it was indifference, anger, playfulness, or neither.When the person in front of her stood in front of her with his back to the light source, it was as if he came from God to judge her fate.

Nightingale looked into his face, and though she couldn't see anything, she wanted him to feel that she wasn't afraid to look him in the eye.

Then she heard an elderly, but gentle voice, like the voice of a pastor when he says "my children" or "brothers and sisters."

"The weather is fine today, Miss Nightingale, it's a pity you can't see me."