[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

"Open the door! Why are you doing this!"

Nightingale pushed away Hattie Dolan, who looked at her like a stranger (perhaps a stranger to everyone in Hattie now), slipped under the opponent's arms, and pounded the door with his fist to the outside. shouted.

"Aren't you the most supposed to come to see her?" The professor's voice came from outside. "You are her best friend in England. If it wasn't for you, she wouldn't be like this. But you pretended that she disappeared out of nowhere." or never had this person at all, go back to your warm and cheery 221B Baker Street, and completely forget that Miss Dolan is still wasting the rest of her life in the madhouse. Didn't you give a little thought to her when you couldn't sleep at night? Even if Just for a second?"

"What did you say?" Nightingale said through gritted teeth, "Is it because of me? It's all because of you."

"I didn't say you should be responsible," said the professor, "I just said you should do your part as a friend."

Hatty leaned forward again.Nightingale could only leave the door and hide in the ward.

"Anjie, you shouldn't be afraid of her. When you first saw her, she was Miss Hatty Dolan, the daughter of a millionaire, lively and beautiful, and kind to others..."

Nightingale had tried to concentrate on avoiding Hattie, but the professor's voice still entered her ears like a devil.She couldn't help thinking about the first day she saw Hattie - Constance, crazy like a little monster, and serious Mrs. Addams, and I heard they left London afterward... Hattie Dolan Running down the stairs, innocent and beautiful... oh no, she's still thinking about it.

"...I don't even know if she remembers the name now, Angela Nightingale."

Nightingale wasn't sure if her name was the trigger.Hatty suddenly pounced on him as if possessed.Due to high mental tension, Nightingale did not let her succeed, but grabbed her wrist and threw her to the ground, and ran to the door again.

"Do you want her to kill me?" she yelled outside. "Get me here and make an accident visiting mental patients? She strangled me and she wasn't liable?"

Nightingale was reminded by his own words at this time.She overlooked one important thing: why Hattie Dolan was here.She was accused of several murders, including Jonathan Silver, and the attempted murders of Dr. Watson and Nightingale. Professor Moriarty tried to prove that she was mentally ill in order to prevent himself from being implicated. Legally responsible, Hattie Dolan was sent to a lunatic asylum, and no one knew what happened to her afterwards.Actually it's very simple.Later, she was confined in this small room. At first she was glad that she didn't have to go to the gallows, but later she found that such a life was worse than death, so she tried to prove that she had recovered and wanted to leave the madhouse, but for the professor, the safest thing was her Live in a madhouse for life.She received daily drug injections, God knows what drugs, slowly wearing away her sanity, until now, even if someone reversed the case, they would find a truly insane Hattie Dolan.Some news that Nightingale deliberately left behind also flooded up at this moment.The old Dolan in the United States fell into a state of dementia due to a severe blow, and spent the rest of his life in an orphanage.Her mother could not afford to travel across the ocean to bring her back to America.Her brother thought that this crazy sister who had killed someone did not exist.Her former fiancé, Lord Saint-Simon, had sent someone to send things at first, but after a long time, it disappeared. It is said that he is now preparing for a new marriage.

Hatty got up from the ground like a beast and approached again.Nightingale took a step back, feeling cold air coming from his bone marrow.Why should she feel sad?Hatty did it on her own. If someone is responsible for this, the professor is responsible. What does it have to do with Nightingale?Why should Nightingale feel guilty about this, because he was Hattie's friend and victim?

But Nightingale still felt horribly flooded with bitterness and guilt, and she couldn't even figure out the reason for a moment.Hattie just wants to get back what she deserves, to inherit the property, and to look like herself, is this wrong?Should this be punished?Aren't they the same?

Damn it, she was one of Moriarty's men and she killed someone!

Was the person she killed more entitled to live than she was?If you'd cared more about her than just the professor cared about her, if you'd noticed a change in her, maybe...

Nightingale tapped his forehead with his fist.I can't think about it anymore, this is an evil spirit, I can't think about it anymore.

"I never thought of it that way," said the professor's voice from outside. "She does it to everyone. The nuns kept her here alone because she tried to strangle every patient in her ward. My first When she got the news to see her once, she rushed forward in the same way. If it wasn't for lack of strength, maybe she would have avenged you all at that time."

Hatty shook her head, as if to shake something that wasn't there, and slammed Nightingale straight against the solid wall.Nightingale heard the sound of her back hitting the cold wall, she didn't feel any pain, but her chest was empty, as if something had been sucked out.She grabbed Hattie's scrambling hands and pushed the crazy Dolan out again.This time Hatty didn't get up again, but fell on the ground and let out a terrible roar, her hair covering her face and her shoulders shrugging.Nightingale had a feeling of churning upwards from his heart, as if he couldn't cry because of tears, or felt nauseated.Standing where she was, she took a breath and carefully walked around behind Hatty.

she cried.

This thought made Nightingale sink for a moment.She wept, gasping and roaring like a wild animal, tears trickling down her collar, and she wiped them with dusty hands, leaving large patches of gray on her cheeks.Nightingale could not hear what she was muttering repeatedly.Maybe it's a string of names, some people whose only names remain for her.This is the only memory left in her chaotic mind.She couldn't even remember what the names stood for.When one of these names stood before her, she didn't know it.

Nightingale retreated slowly to the door so as not to make a noise that would draw Hatty's attention again.

"Professor," she said, "open the door, I don't want to stay any longer."

"you sure?"

"You talk too much sometimes."

"You agree?"

"I don't need to feel guilty about it."

"Oh...I see. There's no way you'd feel guilty for someone else's mistakes, or...maybe your own mistakes wouldn't make you feel guilty either?"

"Stop talking." Nightingale lowered her head and covered her ears with her hands.

There was a moment of silence outside.

"Nightingale, you mustn't be yelling like a housewife," said the soft voice outside. "Then your end will be like hers. You still insist on being like Holmes— Why? For your ability to manipulate other people instead of being manipulated by other people?"

Out of Moriarty's sight, Nightingale nodded, then shook her head.

"You may not understand, An Jie, or you are not sure, I am your only way out." The professor's voice became more relaxed, "There is plenty of time, you can think about it. I will go first."

"What did you say?" Nightingale yelled, grabbing the iron bars on the door.

no answer.

"Where are you going? What do you want to do?"

Not even the sound of footsteps.

"I know you're trying to scare me, it won't work!"

No reply yet.

Moriarty leaned soundlessly against the wall by the door.The noise of the madhouse made him frown uncomfortably.If it was a uniform time to take the medicine, it might be quieter. Now he can only bear it temporarily and listen to the sound of the two fighting and roaring in the ward.He is still relatively sure that Nightingale will not be torn to pieces by Hatty just like that.

However, about 10 minutes later, Moran suddenly ran up the stairs, and without a word, he pulled Moriarty, who was leaning against the wall and doing nothing, onto the stairs.

"There's an accident at home," said the colonel curtly. "Little Chigurh sent two men. William's wounded in the leg, and the others are all right."

Moriarty frowned.

"One was killed by Elena." Moran added.

"Little Chigurh and his father are not the same as his father." The professor sneered, "Old Chigurh will wait until the New Year's holiday is over to settle accounts no matter what, and it will be 1889 in two days, and he can't wait .You take Miss Nightingale back to pack your things first, and I will take care of the house."

"Do you need me to go?"

"No. It's easier to be alone. When I come back, we'll be leaving tomorrow morning at the latest."

"That's good. Give me the key."

"This. Oh you have to watch out for Miss Doran."

Moran wrinkled his nose contemptuously.

"What kind of trick is this? Locking her up with a madman?"

"You have been with the lunatic for many years, and you haven't been thriving." The professor shrugged.

Moriarty didn't go back with them.When they returned to the villa in the suburbs, Elena and the others had already cleaned up the mess and the blood.Moran threw Nightingale, who was almost a madman, to Elena, and went to pack up with the others.The maid dragged Nightingale back to the room and took care of it. She would only tremble for a while, and it took a long time to recover.Seeing a bloodstain on Elena's hand, she asked out of breath:

"Are you OK?"

Elena looked startled.

"How do you know the ban has been lifted?"

"I don't know...just asking."

"I'm all right, miss."

"I am anxious."

"No need." Elena said while leaning over to pack her clothes, "I said, as long as you come back in good condition today, you will be fine."

"I don't know."

"You'll understand once you join the team." The maid said in a sympathetic tone.

"He wants to drag me into the gang?"

"I guessed it too, miss."

"Totally impossible."

"That's because you haven't followed us yet."

"You haven't told me why you joined the group."

"That's not easy." Elena said, "My man used to be with old Chigurh, and then Moriarty betrayed, poor old Hall was used as cannon fodder, and I was also arrested. Me and Moriah Dee said that he was just there to make a living. As long as the wages are paid, I will still sweep the floor and cook for him. When necessary, I will kill and set fire. He did it, and don't believe it, even the Duke's housekeeper It may not be much more than my wages. One time, a troublemaker came home. Just like this time, I was working in the garden, and he stabbed me from behind. I turned around and smashed his brains out with a shovel. Hmph, you hit a woman from behind! After I came out of the hospital, the professor put me in a close position, it’s that simple. I know you have read books, and some things are too complicated. No matter how many troubles you have had before, let’s talk about it later. The business has to start from the beginning, as much as you give him, he will pay you back as much, or even more. Listen to me, miss, the professor is trustworthy. Don’t be angry when I say that, the most untrustworthy thing between you two is actually you."

Nightingale was silent for a while.

"What do we do now?"

"Wait." Elena wiped the blood off her hands with a rag, "When the professor comes back, we will all evacuate together. We have been hiding in this house for half a year, and little Ziggy just discovered it now, and it's good enough."

"Then what should I do?"

Elena grabbed the big towel that had just been folded on the bed and put it on the shivering Nightingale's back.

"Wait for the professor to arrange."

"Impossible. You don't know he's today... no, there's no hope."

"The harder he treats someone, the more he shows who he values. Do you know what happened to Moran back then? It's hard to say. The colonel pointed a gun at the professor, just waiting for him to say his last words-but what do you think now? Hostile The more you fight to the death and reconcile, the more you dare to attack. You are too convinced that you must be right, but you can't even see what stupid things you have done. The professor will let people open their eyes to see these. Although That's not a good feeling. Now, give me a hand, we'll move the dresser out and dispose of it, the professor doesn't want anyone to know you've been here."

"I don't understand. You're all crazy..."

"Get to work, miss. If Colonel Moran sees you being so uncooperative, he won't be as polite as the professor!"

The author has something to say: I don't know if it's a device problem or a network problem. The background has been unable to open these days.The next chapter will return to Sherlock Holmes' line, and the author is also a bit depressed and needs to improve his mood.

☆, Interlude Dr. Watson's manuscript

It all stems from a murder in an ordinary villa on the outskirts of London.The first immediate effect it had was to completely ruin my clinic's New Years opening.

Speaking responsibly, all these troubles are my own.We had a wonderful Christmas at 221B Baker Street, Mrs. Hudson and Merry planned a perfect dinner, and it was at this perfect party that I let my New Year's ambitions go to my head and announced From this Christmas, help Sherlock Holmes detox/drug, starting immediately from the moment of announcement, and valid until the detox/drug is successful.The proposal was warmly welcomed by Mrs. Hudson and Merry and indifferently resisted by Holmes, but to no avail either way.The full support of the two of them did not reduce the resistance I encountered, and his passive resistance did not dampen our determination and enthusiasm.Then came my big trouble.It turned out that he couldn't go back and catch him when he lived in 221B, let alone after moving out with Mei Li.It can be said that the movement I started showed signs of falling apart before it even started.The worst part is not yet here.From Mrs. Hudson's report, I surmised that Holmes did not take our strong suggestion seriously, but it was only speculation.She couldn't tell whether Holmes lay motionless on the sofa in the living room every day, with a trancelike expression, whether he was thinking about the case or the side effects of the injection.In fact, needless to say about her, even I couldn't tell the difference at the scene, and I never dared to ask him—it would be easier if it was a side effect of the injection, because he would not be able to hear us.If I interrupted the train of thought he had painstakingly sorted out, I might have risked the Baker Street detective shooting my old roommate.Once afterwards, when I told these words to Holmes half-jokingly, my friend looked sideways at me and twitched the corners of his mouth slightly.

"I would never do that, my dear chap," he said with his customary sarcasm. "A smart man never pulls the trigger on a better shooter than himself."

"I'll just take it as a compliment to me." I replied, "It's rare, I want to write down your words verbatim in my notebook."

"Then what name do you want to name this article?" Holmes, leaning on the sofa, removed his pipe and slightly tilted his head towards me. I couldn't help laughing too.When speaking with Sherlock Holmes, you must learn to ignore the tone and expression, and pay attention to reading the eyes.

"'The Baker Street detective tried to shoot his old roommate, but was killed'." I replied solemnly, "And this time it will be published in a newspaper, not a magazine."

Holmes took a drag on his cigarette, and seemed to be lost in thought, with a subconscious smile on his gentle lips.He put down his pipe and put a hand on his forehead.

"Lestrade said something happened in the suburbs, and he wanted me to go and see."

I shrugged. "Anyway, you are not afraid of too many things."

"are you coming?"

"That's not going to work. Tomorrow is 1889, and I have to go back and clean up. If the clinic doesn't open, the customers will think I'm closed."

Holmes ruffled his hair irritably, looking paler and more sluggish than ever, and more addicted.

"Watson, we have to clarify one thing," he said. "I listen to you. I haven't taken any medicine recently, but I still need to calm my nerves."

"Don't you have a case?"

"Are you a doctor after all?"

Holmes' rhetorical question left me speechless.Of course I understand what the detox process is all about, even if I believe in Holmes' willpower, it can't change the fact that it kills half a person.But the problem is, I can't figure out whether he really listened to me, or deliberately found excuses to trick my clinic.

"Then it's decided, Watson, I need the presence of a doctor to ensure that my mental state is normal." He said hastily.

"Okay, okay, that's it." I rubbed my temples and said, "When are we going to leave? It's better not before noon tomorrow, because my doctor..."

"What do you think? We shall go now, Watson."

"..."

Originally, "my wife strongly objected to me participating in idle affairs when I was busy at work" could have been a strong reason to evade, but since Meili is a loyal supporter of Holmes, this straw also fell through in the end.As I said, it was an ordinary villa in the suburbs of London.The deceased was the owner of the house, William Wood.The night before, a group of armed men broke into his house while he was resting in an upstairs bedroom, and he was shot dead without warning.One murderer was shot dead by a friend staying at his house, while the rest escaped.The police have verified his files, including documents such as the title deed of his property purchase.Apart from himself, the only people in the house were his boarding friend Harry Bevers and a middle-aged maid named Elena Hall.The houses in the suburbs are not densely populated. Scotland Yard ran a long circle to find a few people who often passed by the villa. It was confirmed that the three people had lived here for at least half a year and often had friends visit.

"This Wood is no good either," Lestrade told us. "He was a member of a small gang in London. We've also tracked down the poor guy who died. It was Young Chigurh."

"Little Ziggy?"

"You don't quite understand the mystery here, Dr. Watson. The Chigurh family was originally the master of London, until it fell apart into many small groups. Of course, it is very convenient for us. Usually when they don't cause trouble, we don't Give them extra energy, but it's been a bit too restless recently."

"Perhaps it is time to call young Chigurh to tea at Scotland Yard," said Holmes mockingly.

"I reckon he'll have to drink in his private room," said Lestrade, "provided he doesn't have to deal with that wooden shelf, of course."

"So why are you hesitating now?" Holmes put his hands in his pockets and looked around.

"According to less than 24 hours before the incident, someone just heard gunshots in this house." The police officer said, "Someone came to ask what happened, but it seems that everything is normal at home, and the maid is still cleaning the steps at the door. They said It went off while the owner was testing the gun at home, and no one was hurt, so no one called the police. We thought it was odd because the string of accidents didn't seem like a coincidence."

"I don't usually like to say that," said Holmes to me, "but Scotland Yard's instincts have always been right—like women's."

As soon as Lestrade regained his energy, Holmes' last words were captured.

"Have you asked everyone here?"

"I've asked. Especially the woman named Hall, who, let me say this, is really—quick with answers." Lestrade said with a little special meaning.

"I would rather say 'well-prepared', or 'experienced'," said Holmes. "I don't want to see her now. Let's go in and see."

Holmes walked round the drawing-room and went upstairs again.In fact, the maid was standing at the foot of the stairs, and he ignored her.

"Holmes, it's okay if you don't agree this time. We have already checked all the clues of the shooting case."

"No, I am not looking for this one," said Holmes, tapping his finger on the wall. "I am looking for traces of the first accident, such as this bullet hole. You find Mr. Wood, or Mr. Bevers's." Is there a gun?"

"I found it. There are only two in this house, and the fingerprints have been checked."

"What caliber?"

"Uh... it's all [-]." Lestrade glanced at the list and checked.

"That would be strange." Holmes chuckled, stepping aside a little so that we could see the bullet holes in the wall:

"It's a .[-] and the bullet has been picked up. This will require a third gun and, if necessary, a third man with the gun."

"It's not that we didn't see it, Mr. Holmes," said the inspector, "but as the bullets have been removed and the holes have been damaged, we can only speculate."

Holmes pretended not to hear him, and went into the bedroom on the second floor, and did not come out for a long time.With one hand in his jacket pocket, he walked quickly up the stairs and shouted to the maid:

"Mrs. Hall, is there any other lady living in this house besides you, or ever visiting?"

"Mr. Wood occasionally receives female guests, but does he stay for a long time?" The middle-aged maid answered slowly with a blank expression.

"I thought a lady lived in this room," said Holmes, his eyes lowered as if to conceal something.

"Mr. Wood is very well furnished, and I clean it every day, sir. The house is often occupied by guests."

"One last question, Mrs. Hall—was this room occupied at the time of the shooting?"

"No, sir, the house has been deserted for some time."

"you sure?"

"Sure, sir."

"So there were no casualties?"

"No. What do you want, sir?"

Holmes shook his head.His slender fingers clenched the armrest tightly, as if he wanted to crush it.As the maids answered one by one, he didn't know why his hanging heart was relieved, followed by ecstasy that lifted his spirits.He walked up to us quickly.

"Let's go out, Lestrade, there's nothing more to see in the house," he said.

But as I expected, when we did reach the carriage, Holmes stopped again.

"Lestrade, have you checked that Hall woman? Is she related to Wood's gang?"

"Oh, she probably has some connection." Lestrade replied, "I have a little impression of Hall's surname, but I can't remember why. I'll check with Ziggy's gang when I get back."

"Not only to investigate," said Holmes, "I advise you to keep an eye on her now."

"It's just a maid who sweeps the floor and cooks. It's impossible to know anything."

"No one discusses probabilities and impossibility with you, Mr. Inspector. The problem is that she wasn't telling the truth. Since that bullet hole is no longer a [-]% reliable evidence, let's talk about something else. The so-called guest's room was modestly furnished, I can’t judge whether it’s a lady’s room or not, but there was a four-legged piece of furniture next to the bed, there were marks on the floor, and an oval mark on the wall. It was obviously a dressing table mirror. It had been left for a long time. It was just removed a day ago. They were trying to hide that there was a lady living here. The maids have their own rooms, it's impossible to live here. On the day of the shooting, someone was removed from here in an emergency."

"If that's the case, the lady should be the key," said Lestrade. "She might be the owner of the .[-]—although it's a bit too big for a woman."

"Guns are not ornaments, and that has nothing to do with it." Holmes shrugged. "You'd better inspect the house again. Forgive me for not being comprehensive enough just now. After discovering this, I am a bit uncharacteristic."

The officer and I exchanged glances.He wished me to explain what Holmes was saying, but I signaled to him that I did not understand.

"Holmes, what have you found?"

Holmes stretched out before me his hand, which had been in his pocket, on which lay two or three strands of brown hair.I didn't think about it for a long time and I couldn't recall that the brunette we knew could make him so emotional.Seeing my inexplicable look, he took out the magnifying glass and handed it to me.Lestrade also leaned over to watch.Through a magnifying glass, I can see that these few hairs are more or less black at the root.

"It's been dyed," I said. "The lady turned out to be black."

"This lady does not use perfume," added Holmes. "If she had left here only last night, they would not have had time to get rid of it."

"Where did you get that hair?" asked Lestrade.

"On the floor in front of the dresser. Obviously."

"If the maid cleans every day, she shouldn't miss such an obvious thing, and according to her own account, it's been a long time since the last person lived here." I said, "The maid herself has curly hair, this hair is straight. I hope it's not I'm hypersensitive."

"I don't think so," said Holmes, taking a deep breath. "You might as well think of it this way—perhaps a man who thought I would come to the case, and knew that I could discover a great deal from a few strands of hair, deliberately stayed here."

The author has something to say: Forgive me for not making Scotland Yard too dark. After all, the conscience of the industry, it is better not to do it without Mr. Conan Doyle.

In the past two days, I have frantically brushed "Yes, Minister" and "Yes, Prime Minister" to the end. With the advice of my classmates, I went to fanfiction to watch foreign colleagues, and my brain is out of control again. OMG... But don't worry, like People like me who torture myself with long novels will not open the second one unless they close the first one.

☆、Insert Sherlock Holmes letters

(God's perspective)

The following are some letters and even notes that Holmes sorted out and kept among the materials provided by the doctor.According to the doctor’s recollection, he preserved almost all of Holmes’ notes, newspaper clippings, letters, and drafts, and sorted them out by category. A single note from the book may be caught in the title page of some notebook.Holmes didn't take all of them with him before he left London, but kept some of them selectively.The young writer dug out a few sheets of paper from here, and copied down the contents of the original text, in order to complete some background content that happened in the blank time afterwards.

(Lestrade sent a police officer to Holmes in January 1889)

Mr Holmes:

We conducted a thorough examination of William Wood's body and, following your suggestion, investigated the files of Elena Hall and Harry Bevers, and sure enough, some unexpected discoveries were made.I can't afford to go down to Baker Street and talk to you face to face, so I'm writing this note to tell you as much as I can about what we've found.

William Wood's cause of death was a bullet wound to the heart, but in the autopsy we found another gunshot wound in his leg, which the medical examiner believed was within about twelve hours of death.However, due to timely treatment and professional techniques, the bleeding was stopped quickly and no infection occurred, but it has already affected the deceased's actions during his lifetime.Our current assumption is that when someone entered and attacked the house on the night of December 12, Wood died of the shooting because of his leg injury and failed to evade or defend himself in time.So we do not rule out the possibility that other than the three people under investigation including the deceased, there were other people present at the time, but they escaped the attack that night and escaped.The discovery of this wound also proved that the maid had lied about the gun going off.You are right. Passers-by rushed to the scene after hearing the gunshot and found her cleaning at the door. In fact, she was deliberately blocking the door to reassure outsiders.If only they had called the police at that time, the people of Scotland Yard would not have let go of unexplained gunshots so easily.

The question now is who was responsible for the daytime shooting on December 12.They were obviously lying when they said that the gun went off and no one was injured, so Wood's serious leg injury was not an accident of his own making, but was attacked by someone.We have reason to suspect that Ziggy's men launched two attacks in one day, the first time only wounded Wood, and the second time they really succeeded.But as to why they valued a small gang leader so much, it is still unknown for the time being.

It is time to turn to the other two witnesses.Harry Bevers lived up to expectations and was one of Wood's men, but there weren't many stories, and we didn't find anything major.We checked the house again, and they couldn't do anything to completely erase the traces of someone moving out, but Bevers is a good old fritter with excellent psychological quality, and he just laughs at all the tricks of Scotland Yard, which is the most annoying thing. People have a headache.But apart from him, it was Mrs. Hall who surprised us.The records show that her husband was a low-ranking subordinate of Chigurh during his lifetime. He died in an unknown way during the civil strife. He is still the dead file here, but there are too many unsolved cases of this kind of minion.What caught our attention was that she did not stay with Hall's party, but joined the party responsible for her husband's death, and continued to work as a maid dutifully.This cannot help but make people wonder.She must have known more about Wood's wounding and killing than she would reveal.We have been closely watching her whereabouts, so far, it seems that there is no special move.As for whether we continue to question her or take a wait-and-see attitude, we still need to refer to your opinion.

I'm going to get back to work, old friend.There is no way for me to rest during the New Year holidays.We'll let you know right away if we find anything.Happy Holidays.

Lestrade

PS It seems that you did not mention the New Year holiday?Oh no, just kidding.

(Lestrade's note to Holmes in May 1889, perhaps due to urgency, was a little illegible, and even forgot to sign it. The policeman who sent the letter deliberately stated the name of the policeman.)

Mr Holmes,

We've finally found the hole in the Hall woman.Nearly half a year!Who can imagine that she is really so patient. If you hadn't urged me repeatedly, we might have really given up paying attention to her.She suddenly resigned from her current client and is now packing up and seems to be moving somewhere else.Just the day before, our people reported that she had met with Harry Bevers.We cannot rule out the possibility of a direct connection between the two.We'll keep a close eye on her whereabouts, maybe we'll find out who's behind it.

(Lestrade's reply to Holmes in May 1889. Holmes's letter has been lost.)

Mr Holmes,

I apologize for the failure of this operation.We are largely responsible for this, but please also please make sure you stop having that attitude towards the officers you deal with.He is just an ordinary police officer who obeys the orders of his superiors, and these are not his fault.

I agree with what you said.It was impossible for the Hall woman herself to be able to escape Scotland Yard's stalking.Someone must have told her how to get rid of us.But I also want to declare that this does not mean that I agree with the suspect you raised.Files show James Moriarty was an academic with no previous convictions.Those around him said he was empathetic and respected.Recently, he just took a long vacation from the academy due to physical reasons and went to the mainland to recuperate, so we didn't meet him in person.Until you, or us, have proof, I can't say there's anything wrong with him, or has anything to do with it.That doesn't mean I don't trust you, Mr. Holmes.As for your promise that you will personally catch Harry Bevers and show me, I just want to say that no matter how much I believe in your ability, both of us should agree that what we believe most is factual evidence.

That is it, then, Mr. Holmes.I also hope we can find Miss Nightingale sooner rather than later.I hope she is safe now.

Lestrade

(Mycroft in 1889