Miss Watson of the Sherlock Holmes

Ursula went out with a bigger question mark than Dr. Watson, but she originally planned to seriously investigate the love-hate relationship between the Seance and Miss Ross that now seems too coincidental.But when we said goodbye, Dr. Watson's question seemed to be the beginning of some kind of spell.

"I met little Mr. Holmes yesterday, and I found out that he has long hair." Miss Helena, who took the initiative to act as an introducer after hearing that Ursula was going to attend the séance, approached her and asked before waiting for the psychic medium to arrive.

"How did you do it!" The poet, who was suspected to have a talent for prophecy, asked Ursula enthusiastically, "Suddenly the hair grows or something! Is this magic?"

"..." She really didn't know what Eric was up to, especially after discovering that the host of the séance attended today and the sorceress she visited were all fake fakes pretending to be ghosts. It made Ursula restless.

"There are seven more people!" In a coffee shop that only serves ladies, Miss Helena saw Ursula's inexplicable expression, she obediently stopped asking, lowered her head and crossed out another word on her notebook a name.

"There will always be one who is true... right!" She said uncertainly, she was very keen on all kinds of magic stories before she met Ursula, and she had basically seen all the psychics on the list.

Ursula is ignorant of her own power and can't complain about her behavior of believing in a bluff.

"I didn't believe it either!" Miss Helena closed her notebook and said plausibly: "This is called collecting writing materials. Whether they are real or not, you have to admit that they are very good at telling stories."

"That's right..."

"The next one is very likely to be real." Miss Helena held up the madeleine and assured her: "Because she never fixes a booth, whether we can meet her depends on luck."

"If you want to meet Ms. Margaret, please take the flower with her name, wander under the No.13 streetlight at the intersection of the street, and call her name on a moonless starry night."

"Margaret, Margaret, the flower of divination is blooming tonight... How about it! Isn't it very believable!" Miss Helena recited the passage of doing nothing in London in her usual way of reciting poetry. That spell of encounters with wandering divination carts, as was passed down among the upper-middle-class girls, and laughed at Ursula.

"It sounds like some London urban ghost stories." Ursula said: "At least it is much more credible than the guy who was covered in fake beads just now and said that his guardian spirit is an oriental wizard."

They waited until the sun went down before saying goodbye with regret. Unfortunately, the moonlight was extremely bright tonight, and London did not meet the conditions for meeting a fortuneteller.

"Ursula!"

Ursula's carriage back to Baker Street was overtaken by another carriage. Miss Siren jumped out and stopped the carriage. She looked very excited and shouted at her: "Where is your little detective?" What the hell are you doing!"

"...Are you also here to ask about the secret recipe for hair growth?"

Ursula jumped down holding the door, and paid the fare to the driver who was angry because of the sudden blocking of the car, and sent him to go first.

"No, miss. It's not about money." The unattractive coachman refused, "I promised Mr. Holmes that I will take you home safely."

He stared at the aggressive Miss Siren warily.

"Ha, Holmes!" The sea witch looked even angrier at the word.

"What did he do..." Ursula babbled, and then told the coachman to let go and wait for her at the street corner. She helped her forehead, and then leaned against the street lamp to look at Miss Siren, whose hair was about to explode.

The opponent is not like a fish at all now, more like a cat whose tail has been stepped on.

"You don't know?" The siren looked at her suspiciously.

"If you're talking about an Eric who suddenly tied up his hair, I really don't know." Ursula looked calm: "I'm not even sure if that guy is Eric himself, because according to me Knowing that our Mr. Detective himself should be obediently staying in the university town and running around for those chemical experiments every day, instead of ostentatiously wandering the streets of London."

"So, what did he do?" Ursula sighed. In this situation where everyone except herself met someone suspected to be Eric, she could only suppress the urge to ride a broom to the university town now and start Learn about the situation from Miss Siren, who seems to have really conflicted with the other party.

"At noon today, he threw a brood of Salomanda in the territory of the Sea Clan." Miss Siren said angrily.

"Wow." Ursula sighed dryly: "But the sun is so bright today, Salomanda will die as soon as it hits the ground." It is a kind of fire that is obviously fire but cannot survive in sunlight Salamander creature.

"Yes, if he doesn't pour out a bunch of Sarmatian sea snails next, I can ignore his inexplicable behavior."

"Do you know how troublesome that group of Theogs are?" Miss Kraken complained: "They raised sea snails and seals in captivity. Under the current situation, we found another group of sea snails in our territory. Do you think they What would you think?"

"In this case," Ursula sensitively captured the subtext of Miss Siren. "You are also involved"

"It should be said that all the sirens living in London participated."

"Just for Helen?" Ursula deliberately pretended to know everything and began to talk.

"How could it be for that little girl? That's just a pretext."

"So it's not because of Miss Rose?"

"Of course..." Miss Kraken subconsciously nodded.

"And what about the so-called resurrected Moriarty?" Ursula demanded.

"Wait a minute, you don't know but you know Helen..." Miss Siren discovered the problem.

"Because of this mirror." Ursula took out the mirror from her handbag and shook it: "The client gave me this mirror. Does this Helen herself know that she has been drawn into the center of the vortex?"

"Of course she doesn't know, is that poor girl still crying for her love?" An extremely ethereal female voice sounded.

Ursula and Miss Siren looked at the street crossing at the same time vigilantly.

With the sound of bells, a gaudy carriage pulled by a white bull appeared under the street lights. Stained glass paintings that are usually used in churches were unscrupulously inlaid on the windows, and the roof was filled with colorful cloth. strip.

"Good evening, witches." A little girl with a voice and a face that didn't match at all waved to them from the roof of the car.

"I'm meeting you for the first time. Let me introduce myself. I am the prophet of this city, the hunter who captures the stars. Girls in London usually call me Margaret." The straw hat gave an exaggerated gentleman's salute.

Then bounced off the roof of the car.

"..." Ursula looked at the frighteningly bright moon in the sky, but said nothing.

"Don't pay attention to those details, spells and starry night are just the screening conditions to see me, but now I want to see you, Miss Witch of the Woodland." pull hand. .

"You are the fortune teller." Miss Kraken, who was well-versed in the fashion circle in London, blocked her way, preventing the other party from reaching out her hand.

She took a critical look at this little man in colorful clothes, from the leather boots with at least three color patches to the overly decorated hat.

"You have real taste," she remarked.

"Thank you for the compliment." Margaret, who was blocked, was not angry at the overly straightforward eyes, but took it for granted. She smiled and continued to approach Ursula.

"Hey!" Miss Siren stopped her, but she didn't stop her at all this time. The other party was like a nimble bird. After a light jump, she hung on the street lamp beside Ursula in a koala posture. superior.

"Cute little witch, if it were you, I can tell you anything I want to ask!" She leaned close to Ursula's ear and said affectionately.

"No price?" Ursula took a step back calmly, keeping distance from the other party.

"Of course not, but you have already paid the price." Margaret smiled brilliantly. "Enough to tell me everything."

"I'm sure I've never seen you before." Ursula didn't let her guard down at all because of the extraordinarily sincere and friendly attitude of the other party. She noticed the slightly pointed ears protruding from the thick hair of this lovely lady Margaret contour.

Another guy with fairy blood, her vigilance has been raised to the highest level.

"But I have seen you and know you." The small fortune teller slid down from the street lamp with a smile.

Hands are held.

Ursula's heart was startled. The other party's actions were like ghosts. She couldn't react at all. For the first time, she experienced a sense of powerlessness.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart." The fortune teller took Miss Witch's hand and rubbed it. Due to the height difference, she acted like a coquettish cat.

"It's good to be cautious, keep it up~ Since you don't want to ask, I'll take the initiative to send you a prophecy~ the good one~"

Margaret let go of her hand and took a few steps back: "What you believe in is reality, and your past is also your future."

After saying this, she jumped back into the bullock cart with her hands behind her back, left a burst of laughter in the silence of Ursula and Miss Siren, and disappeared into the thick fog of London.

"What on earth is she here for?" Miss Siren and Ursula looked at each other for a while, and said doubtfully.

"I've never heard that this guy will take the initiative to send prophecies."

"You know her?" Ursula clenched her right hand.

"No, I just heard about it. Today is also the first time I saw her. It's so strange that she actually prophesied a witch." Miss Siren crossed her arms.

"Yes, that's a wonder," murmured Ursula.

"...Go back and rest quickly." Miss Siren looked at Ursula's blank expression, and originally wanted to complain about Eric's more outrageous behavior in the London Siren Gathering area today: "I will Come find you again."

"...Okay." Ursula forced a smile, and walked to the entrance of the restored street to wait for her carriage.

"The past is also the future." She murmured, spreading out her palms, and lying there was a fifty-pence silver coin, which was a special commemorative coin issued to commemorate...

Conan Doyle's 2019th anniversary in 160.