When Russell slowly stirred awake from his slumber, he happened to see the girl beside him capping her fountain pen.
Sensing the movement next to her, Mary turned her head and gave him a gentle smile.
"Awake?"
"Awake," Russell nodded and rubbed his eyes, completely unaware that he'd been serving as someone's model for several hours.
"Today's notes." Mary closed her notebook and handed it over.
Russell reached out to take it as usual and tucked it into his bag.
Mary took all of this in, then withdrew her gaze with satisfaction.
"Let's go." She rose first and headed toward the door.
Watching her somewhat cheerful retreating figure, Russell couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
What was going on?
The two of them walked out of the classroom one after the other, the lingering glow of the setting sun stretching their shadows long.
"You seem to be in a good mood," Russell said, catching up to Mary's pace and walking shoulder to shoulder with her.
"Do I?" Mary turned her head, those azure-blue eyes brimming with a smile in the sunset. "Maybe it's because the sunlight is nice today."
"Are you sure?" Russell instinctively pulled his trench coat tighter. "Nice how, exactly?"
"Uh... then maybe it's because the lessons were pretty easy?"
"What's there to be happy about in that?"
"..." Mary fell silent for a moment, and in the end she only let out a soft sigh.
"Pressing too many questions can put a person in a difficult spot, you know."
"And here I only wanted to share in the joy with you," Russell sighed.
"It seems a lamentable, thick barrier has already grown between us."
The girl silently rolled her eyes, a touch of helplessness on her face.
"Fine, I admit it," she said softly, "it's only because I discovered some... interesting things."
"Interesting things?" Russell's curiosity was piqued. "About what?"
"Confidential." Mary gave a mysterious smile. "A secret that can't be told."
"...How are you just like Charlotte?" Russell couldn't help but say.
"The secret you two are keeping—it couldn't be the same one, could it?"
"What about Charlotte?" Mary asked curiously.
"She gave me an utterly baffling nickname yesterday." Russell pursed his lips. "When I asked her what it meant, she refused to tell me."
"What nickname?"
"I'm not saying. The thing sounds far too embarrassing."
"Oh?" Mary's eyes lit up in an instant, that pair of beautiful azure-blue eyes glittering.
She leaned in, gently nudged Russell's arm with her elbow, lowered her voice, and said in a coaxing, wheedling tone:
"Come on, tell me. I promise I won't tell anyone."
"No." Russell remained unmoved. "If word got out, I'd lose all my dignity."
"Really, no?" Mary pressed again, unwilling to give up.
"Really, no."
"All right, then." Seeing Russell's resolute attitude, Mary could only sigh in regret—yet the smile in her eyes grew all the deeper.
She withdrew her gaze, clasped her hands behind her back, and strode forward with a light step, the hem of her skirt swaying gently in the evening breeze.
"But," she said, as if recalling something, and turned her head again with a sly little smile on her face.
"Even though you don't want to tell me, I think I can roughly guess it. The nickname Charlotte gave you should have something to do with cats, right?"
Russell's footsteps paused for a moment, but quickly returned to normal.
"Unfortunately, you guessed wrong."
"Is that so?" The girl blinked, not exposing the lie. "What a pity, then."
The two of them bickered back and forth like that, on and off, all the way to the school gate.
"Well then," Russell stopped his steps, "see you tomorrow."
"Mm, see you tomorrow."
Mary stopped as well. She watched Russell's figure disappear around the street corner, and only then did she climb into her family's carriage with a contented heart.
Pleasant times always pass especially quickly.
·
When Russell returned to 221B Baker Street and saw that the door on the second floor had been shut the whole time, he knew someone had once again gone a whole day without eating.
"Russell, you're finally back." The moment she saw Russell return, Mrs. Hudson looked as though she'd seen a savior.
"Charlotte's locked herself in her room again, and she hasn't eaten a thing all day."
"You'll get used to it, Mrs. Hudson." Russell patted Mrs. Hudson's hand.
"How could anyone ever get used to something like this..."
"Leave it to me, all right?" Russell cut off Mrs. Hudson's complaints, then picked up the sandwich on the table.
Carrying the sandwich, which still retained some warmth, Russell went up to the second floor.
He stood before Charlotte's door, and instead of knocking, he simply pushed it open and walked in.
Inside the room, Charlotte was sitting in the armchair, files piled up beside her.
At some point she had changed out of her trench coat and back into that loose, oversized robe, her hair hanging down loosely, lending her a sort of languid beauty.
Hearing the door open, she didn't turn around, only speaking indifferently:
"If you're not here to help, then put the thing down and go make me a cup of coffee."
"I wouldn't recommend drinking coffee on an empty stomach."
Russell walked over to her side and held out the plate in his hand. A scent mingling the fragrance of wheat and smoked bacon instantly drifted into Charlotte's nostrils.
"You go make it, then I'll eat," Charlotte said, turning her head to glance at the impeccably presented sandwich on the plate, then glancing at Russell.
"You eat first, then I'll go make it." Russell kept his hand extended, unmoved.
The two of them stared each other down, and in the end it was Charlotte who conceded.
"Tch."
She clicked her tongue, then took the sandwich and, right in front of Russell, bit into it.
"Satisfied?" Charlotte said indistinctly.
"Or do I have to swallow it in front of you and then open my mouth to show you for it to count?"
"That's starting to sound a bit perverted," Russell said, then turned to go boil water and make coffee.
He picked up the coffee cup that was nearly pickled with stains, took one look at it, and couldn't help but frown.
"How many cups have you had today?"
"Do you specifically count how many slices of bread you've eaten?"
"Eat too much bread and at worst you're stuffed. Drink too much coffee and you can drop dead."
As Russell spoke, he carried the cup—clearly bearing a thick residue of coffee stains—over to the sink and rinsed it carefully with clean water.
Charlotte didn't argue, only chewing on the sandwich in her mouth, her gaze falling back to the files at hand.
"Find anything?" Russell picked up the canister of ground coffee, pondered for a moment, then set it down and reached for the milk instead.
"Does it count as finding something if I discovered all these people evade taxes?"
"That's wonderful. The tax bureau will be very pleased."
"But I'm not pleased," Charlotte said.
"The sample size is too large. In a short time I doubt I'll dig up any useful leads. The only thing that could be called interesting is that I found a familiar name on this list."
"Who?"
"Arthur Morstan."
"Arthur Morstan?" Russell raised an eyebrow. "Mary's father?"
"Mm-hmm." Charlotte nodded. "His safe happens to be in vault number 12."
"So... you think he's connected to The Professor? Or do you think he is The Professor?"
Russell poured the heated milk into the coffee cup, theatrically shook in two spoonfuls of ground coffee, stirred it, and handed it to Charlotte.
"It's just a coincidence; for now there's nothing more to go on," Charlotte said, then picked up the cup and took a sip.
Immediately afterward, her brow furrowed.
"Watson."
"Hmm?"
"What I asked you to make was coffee, correct?"
"Yes."
"Then could you explain to me what this white liquid in my hand is?"
"Coffee," Russell said without batting an eye.
"Just... with a little too much milk added."
"You shook two drops of espresso into two hundred milliliters of hot milk, and you call that a little too much milk?"
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