[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

Nightingale shouldn't, but couldn't help thinking about Dante's Inferno, about hunger and thirst, while she was still conscious.

She couldn't see what she looked like, but in fact, she must have been dehydrated, with fever and flushing, looking like a febrile corpse with no sense of time, lying flat in the dark, motionless and silent.The professor came once or twice, maybe it was real, maybe she was dreaming.He bent down to look at her each time, sometimes silently, sometimes whispering:

"Say, I'll give you water."

She was determined not to speak at first, but then her will gradually disintegrated, and she even began to rely on the weakness of her body to prevent her from obeying.As long as she doesn't struggle, she won't be able to speak.His voice was ethereal and soft, a little anxious, as if he wanted to save himself quickly, as if he was worried that she would persevere to the end.But when she insisted on keeping silent, when he stood up indifferently and turned around to leave, he didn't seem to care about her life or death.If she died here, he would send someone to drag her out and throw her away, and the place would be cleaned up, the windows would be opened, the lights would be on, and everything would be business as usual.She's dead, what does it matter if she's dead?The outside world already went on without her.Her death, besides being a devastating blow to her, does it mean anything to others?

Nightingale opened his eyes.She has run out of tears.

"This is my last visit, Miss Nightingale."

Her consciousness was fuzzy, but the voice was calm and clear like never before.

"I've heard many, many stories about you coming out of a desperate situation. Is the legendary Nightingale of Baker Street so easily defeated? When life and death are at stake, will you give up your life because of a stupid idea?"

Nightingale struggled weakly.The professor glanced back at the people standing behind him in the dim light, motioned them to exit the room, and leaned over to listen.

She moved her lips, and he was so angry that he heard a few vague words:

"I will... keep my promise..."

The professor frowned slightly.

"Yes." He said in the same soft voice.

Where the professor couldn't see clearly, Nightingale showed a wry smile with difficulty.

"hand……"

"What?" The professor pressed a little closer.

"Hand...your..."

He could only hear her words in his breath.The professor watched her for a moment, then reached out and tried to help her sit up.Just as he brushed the cold sweat off her face with his fingers, his little finger was suddenly bitten by a cutting pain.The professor gasped, and pressed Nightingale, who suddenly struggled like a demon, with force. The two were in a stalemate for a while, and he even felt that her teeth had ground to the phalanx.

"Let go!" snapped the professor, pinching her neck with his free hand where the pulse could be felt.Nightingale let go, spit out a mouthful of blood foam on the ground, and lay down heavily, his chest rising and falling weakly but quickly.The men all ran in.The professor took out a handkerchief and wrapped it around his injured finger, taking care not to stain his clothes.

"What do you want?" He stood up from her side coldly.

"I was wrong."

The professor looked down at the shadow lying on the ground, and said nothing, as if he wanted to make sure that the faint words just now were true.

"I... hurt you just now..." She raised her voice a bit, "I was wrong..."

The professor sneered.He tore off the handkerchief that couldn't stop the bleeding, sucked the wound, and spat the blood on the ground.

"A little cleverness, miss, not enough, far from enough."

He looked back at his men waiting at the door.

"Saline, normal saline."

Thanks to the industry's famous quick wit, Nightingale did not die, nor did he lose his dignity.Although she didn't feel from the bottom of her heart that taking that bite was any fault compared to the disaster she suffered, she needed an opportunity to blame herself.She could apologize for breaking the professor's hand, but not for refusing to obey.The antics of the incident greatly diminished the emotional shock that might otherwise have been produced.

She was not freed from that room right away.Long-adapted eyes were not immediately exposed to normal light, and it took them several days to gradually increase the light in her environment before allowing her to come into the sun.This process kills the feeling of being born again.

Ingestion of normal saline, infusion of glucose, liquid food, transition to normal eating after a long time.The Professor came only once during this time, when he stood by and watched for a moment while she was struggling to spoon the vegetable soup.There is no need to call him by any other name now.The only professor who opposes Holmes is James Moriarty.The current situation seems to be that Professor Moriarty has never taken Holmes to heart, but the latter's continuous troubles made him have to allocate part of his energy to settle it, like a busy parent who is forced to deal with naughty children.According to the information that Holmes mentioned before, Professor Moriarty should be around 43 years old. Perhaps due to excessive mental work, he looks older than his actual age, and his complexion is not very good-looking.He was perhaps taller than Holmes, thin, slightly stooped, with a full forehead, deep-set eyes, a clean-shaven, pale complexion, and a strong academic air.He was ordinary, even inferior in appearance, and those who adhere to the ancient Greek concept of beauty may be surprised that the shell of a genius can be so ordinary.His voice was divine music, and what she had heard in the dark before was not a pose, but the effect of his normal speech.

Her new room was far better than the storeroom in Baker Street.Only Hatty Dolan's room, which she had seen while teaching at the Addams house, could compare.It's amazing that a high-class criminal with no family knows everything an ordinary girl likes.No, it's not quite accurate to say it's an ordinary girl.There are no colorful floral bed linen curtains or cute animal picture frames, and the main color is not pink, yellow, or other vibrant warm colors.All the colors are light, and there are two precise and concise still life sketches on the walls.Nightingale is not good at painting, at least at the expert level, she can't say anything, she can only say that these two gray and white paintings are very beautiful.There is a pot of non-flowering plants on the windowsill.The furniture only has a small bed, a writing desk and a chair, and there is no paper and pen, so the writing desk is just a substitute for a dressing table, but there is no mirror, but correspondingly, a full-length mirror is embedded in the door.A maid is responsible for taking care of her daily life, in fact mainly refers to her dressing and dressing.When Moriarty found out that the girl really had no idea about the concept of "dressing up", he couldn't bear the girl messing with herself any longer, so he ordered the only maid in the house to teach her all the high-society dressing-up techniques.

When she saw this, on the one hand, she secretly breathed a sigh of relief because the ordeal was temporarily over, and on the other hand, she was secretly anxious because she didn't know how long she would be trapped.The latter is the deepest torment, and all things that are beyond the control of one's own efforts belong to this category.

When she stood in front of Professor Moriarty intact for the first time, she had been completely reborn. The tomboy of Baker Street had disappeared, replaced by a woman in a light yellow dress with neatly braided and coiled hair. Young lady wearing a pearl necklace.Her face is still pale, her long face is thinner, her eyes are protruding and big, and her lips are bloodless. If she is a beauty, she may arouse sympathy from others, but it looks miserable and ridiculous to her.She stubbornly looked directly into Moriarty's eyes, with an unconsciously tragic expression.

Moriarty smiled softly and stood up from his chair.

"I never dared to overestimate the intelligence of those people, but until now I understand how stupid mortals are." He said, "Most women are beautiful wastes, and men look down on them while flocking to them. So I also underestimate this But Miss Nightingale, beauty is useless to a person like you. Look at what they did to you. A proud woman is ashamed of her appearance in her heart."

Nightingale showed a scornful expression.

"Did I guess wrong?" the professor looked at her and said, "forgive me, but unlike you detectives, I don't know what you're thinking, what you ate this morning, or where you've been at a glance. I'm all Guess. You never guess."

Nightingale did not speak.

"You're a little nervous. Let's change the subject. I want to know what your parents called you." The professor said in a serene tone, "Angela? Angelique? Angelina? Or Angel?"

"Angy." Nightingale whispered.

"Ah, of course. The simpler the better." The professor smiled again, "May I call you that?"

There was no sound when she spoke for the first time.After calming down for a while, she whispered:

"can."

"Look, this is much better."

"Can I ask a question."

"can."

"Obedience is the only way to survive. Why?"

"What do you think this means?" The professor turned casually and cleared the papers on the table.

"I thought it was my situation," she said, "but it's probably more than that."

"Oh. So you think I'm talking about everyone?"

"no doubt."

"Not exactly." He put the last piece of paper on top of the stack and turned to look at her. "I said most people. It doesn't apply to very few people."

"The very few people refer to you?"

"Maybe including me," replied the professor.

"I need to explain a little more clearly."

"This is an evil world, Anjie. Look at all those weak humans around you, don't you pity them? Have you never felt this kind of pity?"

Nightingale was silent, she dared not answer "yes" or "no".

"If all people were on the same level, these problems would not exist. Unfortunately, there are some people who are born different from ordinary people. If they are lucky enough to be properly cultivated, they will become people far beyond ordinary people. They will Thinking. Facing this group of people, mortals can only obey. It is like the creatures at the bottom of the food chain facing the creatures at the top, but they are much more merciful, because the prey has no way out in front of the predators, which is not the case with human beings.”

"Are you sure you are beyond ordinary people?"

"I said 'maybe,' honey."

"Why tell me?" Nightingale finally asked, "Why answer this question?"

"Why hide it?" he asked back.She was silent again.

"Do you think this logic will wake up other people?"

"I think...we should only say that after we are familiar with each other."

"You asked first."

She knew she had said the wrong thing.

"Frankly, I'm not worried, Anjie. If anyone asks, I'm happy to answer. At least they didn't ignore the words, so it's not hopeless. But even if I make my words clear, there will be no danger. Mortals Always be mortal. Not be a genius."

She felt her heart sink in the professor's smile.He understands her.He not only knew Holmes whom he had taught 20 years ago, but also knew her whom he had never met.He told her bluntly that she would never be a genius.

In his eyes, she can be slaughtered by others.

The author has something to say: Well, the girl finally came out, and she has to go in again in two days...

The author was so excited yesterday that he forgot to go here, I will add a Happy Dragon Boat Festival to everyone, sorry~