Hearing that conclusion, Russell froze momentarily. Neither he nor Charlotte had considered this possibility, because, after all, all their hypothetical reasoning was based on a ghost's consistent character: an almost pathological obsession with Holly David. By instinct, both had suspected the ghost was hiding in her house, ignoring all other possibilities.
"If that's the case…," Russell pondered. The truth could be very simple, if only they'd go and check for themselves. Luckily, he had a key, thanks to Holly David, who was staying at a friend's place after being frightened by the ghost and, at Charlotte's urging, handed the key to Russell. He could go investigate her house anytime.
With that, Russell quickly finished his sandwich and wiped his mouth.
"Got a plan?" Mary asked, noticing his reaction.
"I'll go to Holly David's home this afternoon," Russell said. "If there's any chance for the 'ghost' to appear, it's only while she's still out working."
"But—don't we have class this afternoon?" Mary countered. "Professor Philip is strict."
"Classes can always be made up, Mary," Russell replied gravely. "But right now, there's a woman harassed by a stalker, waiting for me to save her. If Professor Philip is a true gentleman, he'll understand."
"And if he doesn't?" Mary asked mischievously.
"That'll just prove Professor Philip's sense of chivalry is inferior to mine." Russell said regretfully, getting to his feet. "Let's head back to class."
"Weren't you going to skip?" Mary blinked but got up as well.
"It's just a smooth transition," Russell shrugged. The girl smiled and walked out with him.
The afternoon sun wasn't harsh, just warm and gentle. They walked together in silence, neither feeling awkward—a strange, almost partner-like familiarity had already developed, even though only a few days had passed. He could catch her drift; she could read what went unsaid in his words.
Mary liked this sensation—only when with Russell or Charlotte could she feel the so-called equality she'd missed for so long. No backbiting or flattery like at high society banquets, just pure, equal interaction.
"Are you going alone?" Mary turned, regarding him.
"Might invite Charlotte too, if she's really willing to relocate. After getting back from Imperial College to Baker Street, I'll coax her to come along, then we take a coach to Holly David's place." Russell admitted honestly that the trip might take an hour, by which time the 'ghost' might already be gone.
"So, you're planning to go alone?"
"Anyway, next steps are less about intellect, more about muscle," Russell shrugged. "If all else fails, I can call for help."
"Mm-hmm..."
With idle chat, they soon reached the classroom entrance. Russell stopped.
"Alright, that's far enough," he said, gesturing at the classroom. "You'll have to walk the rest alone."
Mary stood still, gazing at him; her blue eyes seemed extremely clear in the sun.
"Russell."
"Eh?"
"If one day—truly, if I ever encounter a problem I can't solve myself…," the girl began quietly, "will you come rescue me?"
Russell was caught off guard, not expecting such a question. Her transparent blue eyes flashed with anxiety and tension, like someone awaiting test results or a family member in a hospital waiting room. This was a Mary Morstan he'd never seen before. A problem he'd never faced before. So serious even his usual wit failed him.
He stood in silence for a few seconds. The afternoon sun slanted, casting a long shadow from the classroom, enveloping Mary. Between them stretched a border between light and darkness.
A gust of breeze brought a faint chill, and his voice reached her.
"I will," he answered.
They didn't ask what the problem was, or how it could be solved. One affirmation was worth more than a thousand words. That was enough.
And then, a light kindled in the girl's eyes—a bright relief, as if she'd been unburdened by getting a reply and a promise. Not another word of thanks, just a gentle nod.
"Well then…" Sometimes a quiet reply means more than the fanciest words. "You should go now. Class is starting."
She broke this fleeting moment herself. So fleeting, in fact, you wish you could freeze it forever.
Under Russell's gaze, Mary turned gracefully. She seemed somehow lighter, as though a weight had fallen away.
…
Russell left through the school gate, catching the nearest ordinary tram. He leaned against the window, watching the familiar city scenery drift past. Remembering his own answer, he was suddenly overcome by a sense of helplessness.
Maybe he shouldn't have acted so rashly. He'd always believed not to make promises he couldn't keep—a principle of his. Like invitations to those awkward ice-breaker parties.
Yet, somehow, when faced with her pleading, anxious blue eyes, his brain simply refused all thoughts of refusal or ambiguity.
Ah, he could only spoil her. Who could blame him, with her being so beautiful? It wasn't his heart's fault; it was all the other person's good looks. It's an irresistible instinct embedded in human genes, the attraction to beauty. That's it.
With that thought, Russell closed his eyes and let his mind drift along with the tram.
Before long, the tram stopped at the station. Russell got off, walked a little, and found himself at the familiar red-brick apartment building. He fished out the key from his pocket, walked in as quietly as if returning home, climbed to the second floor, and let himself into Holly David's apartment.
Everything inside was just as he'd left it yesterday. Russell activated his enhanced [Scouting] ability, prowling the room in search of suspicious details.
The first thing he noticed were the flowers on the balcony. Beads of water sparkled on the soft petals, casting speckled patterns in the sunlight.
Someone had watered them.
…