[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(God's perspective)

After the "that woman" case, Nightingale was busy with her tutoring work and never got to be with Holmes again.When Mrs. Hudson returned from a visit in June, she was very satisfied to find that all was well at home.She didn't doubt the security awareness of the tenants, it's just that the residents of 221B have formed a habit of exposing each other.Constantine was forced to start reading, and he was not as lawless as before. The work of the tutor changed from playing with him to reading with him, and his salary was raised.Nightingale's social circle was as narrow as ever.Holmes is socially indifferent, his pupils have public and private ties to Scotland Yard, and nothing else is necessary.Her only friends, the gang of Richard Clarke, a liberal arts student, and Jane James, the daughter of a high school teacher, used to ask her out, and she almost turned them down.In the case of Reigate, Mrs. Cunningham gave her a bunch of inexplicable things, and sometimes she took them out to study, for which she was laughed at by Holmes, and she was indifferent.Watson began to teach her how to use the gun, and her eyesight was a great hindrance.In Watson's words, now I just hope that in the event of an emergency, I will not be slaughtered by others.

"Have you been slaughtered before?" Nightingale said, staring at him.

"No." Watson pulled back the bolt of the gun and smiled, "Just in case."

The uneventful days continued until September.At the end of September, she said that those students repeatedly brought strangers to her party, felt that something was wrong, and hoped that someone would take her home after get off work.Holmes thought for a moment, and said:

"Then take that revolver with you from now on. No young man in England wants to invite a governess with a '.[-]' under his arm to a party."

"No housewife in the whole of England would want such a man to be her daughter's governess."

"Our two professions are always at odds." Holmes put the pen aside, "I am a little worried about what it will be like for you to hold two professions in the future. Watson, in the future, you will pick up our Miss Nightingale when you get off work. okay?"

"Why don't you pick up 'our Miss Nightingale'?"

"Because there are other things." Holmes flicked his notebook. "The absence of both of you participating in my work does not mean that I am not working."

Nightingale was telling the truth.On September 29, Watson made a detour from the clinic to Adams' home. Before Nightingale came out, he saw Richard Clarke standing in front of the gate with a young man he had never seen before.The last time Watson met this student was the day he sent Miss Dolan back to the United States.Clark greeted first.

"Good afternoon, doctor. Miss Nightingale?"

"The situation is like this, Mr. Clark, for safety's sake, we won't let Nightingale go back to Baker Street alone in the future."

said Watson insinuatingly, looking at the young man next to Richard.The young man's handsomeness was in stark contrast to Clark's unpretentiousness.He has dark blond hair, a curly hair in front of his forehead is fixed, fair skin, thin and straight, not pale and thin like Clark's preppy, high nose bridge, deep eye sockets, a pair of sea blue eyes, well dressed Dressy and neat, the bow tie is the most popular style among students at the moment.Generally, young people with this temperament are romantic students who are proficient in wine tasting and boxing. They are the best among boys and have a large group of followers. It seems that Clark is one of the followers.Watson recalled what Holmes said, when the detective faced a flamboyant provocation from a playboy at school, he silently stepped forward and punched him unconscious.The doctor couldn't help showing a sarcastic smile.

If he knew exactly what this Openshaw was doing this time, he might not have used such a strong tone.Dr. Watson has left the academic spirit, has experienced the baptism of war and life, is still young, looks resolute and upright, and has a free and easy spirit. In the eyes of somewhat naive student suitors, he is a powerful rival in love.

"This is John Openshaw, a physics student at University College London. Openshaw, this is Dr. John Watson." Clark introduced to Watson.This is the physics student who received five orange cores. After that, nothing happened for a long time. At that time, Nightingale had a brief talk with him, but nothing happened.

At this time Angela came out.Seeing these three people talking in front of the gate, she had a cloudy expression on her face. She went straight to Watson and stood beside Watson before saying hello to those two people.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen. Seems to have seen Dr. Watson."

Openshaw ignored her harsh tone.

"My classmates and I co-founded a club at my home with the theme of physics experiments. I want you to join."

"Sorry, I don't know what you're doing in a physics club. I don't understand anything like Arabic."

"I know you are interested in physics." Openshaw didn't feel embarrassed at all. "Your... detective work is also related to physics experiments. I think..."

"Wait, these are two completely different concepts." Angela interrupted him, "Maybe a little bit, but college textbooks don't relate to me. I just admire people who study physics."

"I also admire people who study literature." Openshaw responded quickly and his voice was fresh.Under normal circumstances, this answer was enough to applaud Nightingale, but today she just smiled unnaturally.

"You can tell me when you get together. Maybe someday I'll be free to visit."

"Every Friday at seven o'clock," said the physics student quickly, "at my house."

"Thank you, I haven't said that I will definitely go."

Richard Clarke stood beside him in a cold sweat. He was relieved until Nightingale said goodbye indifferently, and he was about to flee with Openshaw.The obsessed young man refused to go first anyway, and insisted on waving to Nightingale until he was sure she would not turn back.

"Who is that doctor?" Openshaw asked Clark.

"Roommate." The student of the Faculty of Arts replied.

"What did you say?" The physics student almost jumped up.

"No, no, that would be appalling." Richard wiped his cold sweat, "They rent two rooms in the same house."

"Her parents aren't in London?"

"In Sussex."

"Then there is still hope." Openshaw adjusted his tie vigorously.

This little meeting sparked the conversation that followed 221B.

"Do you hate him? That John Openshaw?" asked Watson.

"I don't know. He's been around since that orange-pit joke."

"What's the matter?" asked Holmes casually, who was sitting on the desk—yes, on the desk—reading a newspaper.

"Oh, it's really nothing." Watson picked up a test tube on the test tube rack and looked at it repeatedly. "This test tube is doing well—it means that our Miss Nightingale has a suitor."

"Hey."

"Oh. (sound of turning a page of the newspaper) Huh? What did you say?!"

The detective put down the newspaper with a "squeak" and stared at the doctor.

"What?" Watson looked at the other party, "Is there any question?"

"Yes." Nightingale said angrily, "the expression is wrong."

"He has a crush on you."

"He despised me."

"Can you explain what it means?"

"They seldom see women who have gone to school. Literature is better, but the strange thing is detectives." Nightingale explained patiently, "His interest in me is like seeing a dog that can juggle. Besides, the son of a London University would treat a governess with no parents and no property seriously, so hell."

"What happened to her?" The detective still chose to ask Watson.

"A top student in physics asked her to join the physics club. That's all."

"Oh." Holmes softened his attitude a little, and picked up the newspaper again. "Then it doesn't matter."

"Huh?" Watson put a hand on his forehead, looked at Holmes very troublesomely, and then at Nightingale who ignored him.

"Being able to see Nightingale shows that he is a brainless person. Please do as you please. Even if he plots evil, it is enough for you to teach him a lesson."

"Wait, what did you mean just now?"

"Your social activities are a bit limited." Watson changed the subject abruptly and pushed Nightingale back.

"I have a social event," she seemed to think of something dreamy, changed her serious expression, and took out a delicate business card for Watson, with the name of violinist Norma Neruda written on it.

"Norma Neruda?" The doctor's exclamation caught Holmes' attention again. "She is a famous musician in Europe!"

"I happen to know a famous opera singer in Europe."

The situation exceeded the doctor's expectations. "so?"

"Hilda is hosting a birthday party tomorrow and invited the violinist and me."

"...Are you sure you are suitable?"

"Not quite. But since they agree, it's all right."

"In what capacity?" asked Holmes.

"Friends. Don't you also know a lot of nobles and celebrities?"

"My dear Nightingale, clients and society are two different things," said Holmes with a half-smile.

Dr. Watson came home very late the next day. He simply packed up and went back to his room to sleep.At this time Nightingale had already gone to the dinner at Hilda Hopkins' house, Mrs. Hudson went to bed early, and only Holmes was still idling in the room-he didn't have many days when he was free.The doctor was worried that he was taking the main line with the syringe, so he went into his room to have a look.As expected, the detective deftly tossed the syringe out of sight of the doctor and acted as if nothing had happened.

"Holmes, I'd better not let me see needles in the hands of non-professionals again."

"One, I'm a professional. Two, you didn't see anything."

Asking him to hand over the needle would be worse than killing him, so Watson had to go back to his room.

After sleeping for an unknown amount of time, the doctor was woken up by the sound of knocking on the door downstairs—it was indeed knocking on the door, not knocking on the door, let alone the doorbell.He wondered vaguely why Mrs. Hudson had not answered the door, and then remembered that any visitors after her bedtime were Holmes' own business.Holmes had no intention of going downstairs to open the door. Watson got up and put on a coat and went downstairs to open the door, secretly hoping that the detective was not still in a trance after the injection.The smashing of the door continued, mixed with a man's violent door calling.The doctor turned on the light in the living room and looked at the clock. It was eleven o'clock at night.He opened the door and quickly raised his hand to block the opponent's fist.

"Snedden, get out of the way, let me tell you." A slightly hoarse female voice said.According to professional experience, the doctor initially judged that it was due to excessive drinking.The servant named Sneddon gave an apologetic salute for almost accidentally hurting him, and then took a step to the side.Under the dim streetlights, a well-dressed aristocratic woman was revealed.

"Mr. Holmes, the situation is urgent, please immediately..."

"Ma'am, Mr. Holmes is still..."

She stepped forward and approached, but when she saw clearly, she stopped talking and stared blankly at the person who opened the door.Watson also saw her clearly.

The lights dimmed her gown, her cloak, and her exaggerated feathered hat, which hid her hair, but her face was clear enough.Despite the heavy makeup, doctors could make out her delicate features and green eyes.

"Miss Dolan." Watson smiled wryly.

The author has something to say: Mr. Detective, it doesn’t matter if you tell me again. Try it.

I'm sorry Dr. Watson, but I think he doesn't care anymore... right?

Oh, and, this volume label may not have anything to do with the content, just understand it, just understand it.