[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

When Moriarty walked in holding a small box with simple and delicate packaging, Nightingale, who was sitting in a daze by the window, shivered uncontrollably.

"I thought it was already very light." The professor stopped at the door.

Nightingale pointed to the window.Moriarty tilted his head slightly, seeing his own reflection on the glass.

"No one should underestimate any detective, Anjie."

She was silent.

"Don't you remember what day it is?"

She stood up and turned to look at him with a strange sneer.so funny.She was dizzy with exhaustion.The professor forbids anything with writing in her room, and neither does the calendar.He actually asked her if she knew today's date.

"It's not good, Anjie, no matter what happens, you should not forget December 12th, Christmas Eve."

Moriarty approached with a half-smile, pressed the small box into her stiff hands, and tried several times before pulling her fingers so that she could hold it and not drop it.

"Merry Christmas, Angie," he said lightly, "Is there anything you want to say to me?"

"No." She blurted out.The professor's calm gaze did not leave her eyes.

"Merry Christmas, Professor."

Moriarty paused.

"There's a Christmas party at the academy tonight, and I'll take you there. Don't worry about anything you need, it'll be ready, but please don't make trouble—don't find it hard to keep an eye on you in a crowd. And don't say much either, We have a way to make what you say appear to others as nonsense."

Nightingale said nothing.

"Aren't you going to open it?"

Avoiding the professor's eyes, she reluctantly tore open the wrapper, stopping again when she saw the box.

"What's the problem."

She doesn't speak.

"Are you afraid it's empty?"

"I hope this is empty."

"Pranks are childish."

Nightingale opened the box and took out one - a bullet.

"what is this?"

"Don't you know .[-] bullets?"

"Yes. Why this?"

"It will come in handy."

"If I hadn't been brought into this place, I'd have had a dozen at Christmas."

"Who will give it to you? Holmes?"

Nightingale suddenly felt an ominous breath.She thought of the only Christmas gift Holmes had given her: snow on Christmas Eve and a modified "Nightingale Clock".There was still a year of Christmas blank, he was not in Baker Street, and Christmas was still working.Sometimes she imagined the murder with inappropriate romantic thoughts, blood dripping in the snow, as in the Grimm's fairy tale Snow White's birth mother.

He never gave her a .[-].He had given her bullets, but not for Christmas, not for anything.

"Come for afternoon tea in the afternoon," the professor changed the subject, "Someone is here to pick you up."

Without waiting for an answer, he walked past her, opened the door and went out.She heard the door lock click from the outside.

Leaving the environment of initial captivity, there is essentially no difference.She can only leave the room when accompanied by someone, and is locked here the rest of the time.She once heard a maid tell a subordinate that if the house caught fire, it would be very dangerous for the young lady to be locked in the room alone, but the subordinate just laughed:

"That can only be considered bad luck for her."

"But it's always useful for our professor to bring her here?"

"No one knows God but himself."

She had seen five of Moriarty's subordinates in the whole house, five of them were not too few for this space, and they were all his confidantes and veterans.If we compare them, one of them is always with Moriarty, and he looks especially cold and old, which makes people frightened.Moriarty is the only person she can communicate with here.The professor gave a death order, and unless he gave his own permission, no one but him could speak to her, and even the maids were silent about their work in her room.The windows had no bars and were never locked.He wasn't worried that she would jump out of a fourth-floor window and escape.There were no curtains, just blinds, and the sheets and the blind cord combined wouldn't be long enough to go down the window, let alone she didn't trust the cord to hold the weight.She judged from a small piece of scenery outside the window that this was the suburbs of London.Moriarty is still teaching at Claus College (made up by the author), so she probably hasn't left London yet.The genius who wrote "Asteroid Dynamics" at a young age is so talented that he actually settled in a little-known English college, but his current main job is not in academia, so he doesn't care about it.Moriarty would appear up to three times a week, staying with her for a short while, and spending most of her time downstairs talking with her staff.Sometimes he would be "extremely gracious" by letting her downstairs for dinner or tea, and then sending her back upstairs to lock her in the house.

The maid's question was also what she wanted to ask.It must be useful to get her here.

But he never mentioned it, and she never asked.Because he wouldn't answer and would make her look stupid.

In the afternoon, they took Nightingale from the room to the living room downstairs, and pushed him across from the professor sitting at the coffee table.Apart from the maid Elena, there was only Moriarty's personal bodyguard standing behind Nightingale.She boldly glanced back at the man.Cold blue eyes with drooping eyelids and a grizzled beard, like an old hunter.A soldier, possibly a sniper.It can be deduced from his well-trained stance, the wear and tear marks on his hands, and the twinkling eyes that are different from ordinary people.He also glanced at her slightly, and Nightingale felt cold, and immediately turned back.Guess one more violation of professionalism, this person must have killed many people.

Moriarty motioned her to sit down with his eyes.Elena, the maid, sets the tea service, bread and butter before her.Nightingale waited patiently for her to walk away from the table, and slowly placed the bullet in her hand on the table between her and Moriarty.Don't move too fast, the bodyguard has been staring at her, if he pulls out something made of metal too quickly, he won't bother himself to see if it is dangerous before deciding whether to do it.

"Ah... so you figured it out?"

"Maybe. I need to make sure." She picked up a knife and started cutting butter into small cubes to spread on the bread, looking unkind.You must know that she is already trying to calm down.

The professor took the bullet and looked at it, as if looking at his own small reflection, and then wiped away the fingerprints on it with his cuff.

"He made you experiments, beautiful, useless experiments—you know what I mean." Moriarty's voice was dreamlike. "He made you a toy clock. This Is it something he didn't bother to think about in the past, and you didn't realize it? Or did you realize it, but took it for granted?"

"I don't understand what you want to express."

"Your gun was given to you by Irene Adler, now Mrs. Irene Norton. You can't buy it yourself. No one will sell a gun, even the smallest caliber revolver, to a little girl if you don't know where to go. You will not go where there is a door. Don't dare, I don't know, Holmes didn't teach you, and he didn't allow you. Do you know why?"

no answer.

"He's a genius, Angie. He has nothing to do but work and the violin, and looks down on anyone but a handful of people he can count on one hand. Only one of them, Dr. Watson, isn't a genius in the traditional sense, but I'm pretty good at other things." Appreciate him, so it is not an exception for the time being. Except for Mrs. Norton, all women are out of his consideration. Except for the above people and things, others are a waste of time and will make his brain cells rusty and rigid. You still don't understand me Want to say something?"

"not understand."

The professor's eyes were calm.Only those who have a library in their minds, have their own system, and are used to seeing things in the world have such eyes.In this look, she felt guilty and inferior.She hated herself for being powerless, and hated the people who put her in danger, but none of these could compare to how she hated standing in front of someone who looked like herself, but felt humble and ignorant, like a fragile shell.

"Because he—specially, likes you." The professor said lightly.

Nightingale stared at him with heightened alertness.

"Yes, I like you very much. He looks down on women and everyone with a lower IQ than him, but he only likes you. He hates all the trivial things that waste time, but he likes to do these things for you. So he likes you very much, this reasoning You don't object, do you?"

The professor's tone became more and more bitter, and finally she sneered when she didn't respond to the freeze.

"He looks down on you, Anjie. Of all these people, you are the one he doesn't pay attention to. Your mediocrity but longing for talent attracted him. This is something that Dr. Watson doesn't have. From a certain In this sense, Sherlock Holmes needs such a kind of firm belief. He himself does not have it, but seeing that other people besides him have it, he will feel comforted in his heart. Indifference. Don't be too happy - all built on the same foundation, you only get his sympathy and condescending encouragement, no equality, at least with him, never. You are just a plaything to make people happy , it is now, and it will still be when you are gray-haired."

After saying this, the professor smiled, put the bullet on the coffee table and pushed it lightly, it spun and slid in front of her, turning slower and slower, and finally stopped.Its luster reflected Nightingale's eyes, which turned from astonishment to blankness, and finally the blankness was burned away by a sudden burst of anger.

During the nearly one and a half months of imprisonment, she has been trying her best to hold the hysterical voice in her heart to prevent it from breaking through the control of reason.As the professor's last word came to an end, she heard something crack open in her heart - and then broke through the last, crazy attack.She grabbed the butter knife with an uncontrollable hand and threw it at Moriarty across the way without a second's hesitation.The professor who picked up the teapot and poured tea casually dodged for a moment, but didn't dodge completely. The knife hit him on the shoulder, leaving a faint mark of butter on his clothes.The professor put down the teapot, picked up the napkin, and carefully wiped off the tea poured out of the cup, as if he didn't hear the sound of "boom" from the opposite side - the personal bodyguard grabbed Nightingale's back neck with vigorous and powerful hands and slapped her heavily. Pressed against the table, her chin knocked over the plate, her face on the buttered bread.

"Understand her, Moran, hysteria is one of the qualities of a woman, not her fault," said the professor, stirring the tea.Moran glanced at Nightingale who was struggling to prop himself up with his arms.

"I think it's time to overdo it, Professor."

"Let her go, the only thing she can throw in her hand is butter and bread. I might want to continue this conversation in the future. Don't suffocate her."

Colonel Moran rubbed hard before letting go.Nightingale sat up, wiped the mess on her face, and rubbed her nose, which was so painful that it seemed to be broken.

"I hate you." She didn't wait for Moriarty to speak again, "I will die with you, remember."

"I believe." Moriarty said lightly, "Elena, Miss Nightingale finished her tea, take her back upstairs. Remember to lock the door."

Nightingale didn't resist when she was led upstairs by the maid, maybe she could finally relax.Moriarty made a "sit" gesture to Moran on the opposite side.

"I don't understand what you're doing at all," Moran said coldly, "She's as hard as a rock, useless."

"That's a great compliment."

"Is there any advantage in her that you value? Except for this point that we can't use?"

"She's not smart, and she's too good." The professor looked indifferent. "If she is really dangerous and aggressive, what do you think will happen? She should pretend to drop the glass when Elena brought the water." The glass was smashed, and I quietly hid a piece of glass in my sleeve while cleaning up the glass shards on the ground. When I see me again, I will pretend to be as stupid as usual, and then seize the opportunity..."

He raised his chin slightly, and used two fingers to make a piercing and scratching motion at his throat.

"Crazy." Moran shrugged and couldn't help but smile, but the professor's expression was serious and he didn't mean to be joking, "I want to see what she will do next."

"If you just want to die together, that's the end of it. But if you want to get out alive, you need my gun-I always carry a gun, she can see. Cover the muzzle of the gun with a pillowcase, wait in the room So, don't go anywhere, kill him as soon as someone comes in. Six bullets, close range, good luck to finish five people in turn. But it's unlikely, right? As long as two people go in and don't come out, Others will be alerted."

"She can't get past me." Moran said, staring at the professor.The professor wiped the traces of butter on his shoulder with a napkin absently.

"No one said she was okay. Elena was counted among the five," he said.

The author has something to say: The author who took six exams a week and handed in two papers is bubbling. . .Two days later there will be a core course exam, and there will be two papers after that, we can't take it lightly, and we still can't return to the normal update frequency, hereby warn, oh no, notice _(:з"∠)_