However, the imagined intimate encounter inside the carriage never came to pass.
Instead, a warm and powerful embrace awaited her. Charlotte instinctively opened her eyes. Russell's face was right in front of her.
The moment she had nearly collided with the carriage, he had wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. What instantly enveloped Charlotte's five senses was a faintly nostalgic scent she had barely noticed before—a subtle fragrance like soap, carrying a hint of sunlight. What does sunlight even taste like?
The strange question floated into Charlotte's mind for some reason. She herself didn't understand why she had made that association.
It was… truly inexplicable.
She could clearly hear the beating of her own heart. It was chaotic and deafening, like an uncontrollable drummer madly pounding a war drum.
"Are you alright?" Russell's voice echoed from above her head, snapping her out of her brief reverie.
"No… it's nothing." Charlotte quickly slipped out of his embrace, straightened her posture, and perfectly concealed the fleeting blush that had risen to her face with a forced calm. As if the moment of embarrassment had never happened, she awkwardly adjusted the collar of her disheveled trench coat.
"What happened up ahead?" She changed the subject and directed her gaze toward the front of the vehicle.
"It's like a child suddenly wandered onto the tracks…" Russell followed her line of sight and, using his height to his advantage, assessed the situation ahead of the carriage.
The commotion continued, with passengers voicing their dissatisfaction and shouting.
Soon, the woman from the ticket booth emerged from the crowded throng with an apologetic expression. "Ladies and gentlemen, we are terribly sorry, but the tram service will be temporarily suspended."
"Huh? How long will it take?"
"You can't just leave us here like this, can you?"
"Give us our money back!"
The passengers' emotions flared up instantly, and the interior grew even noisier.
"Let's get off the bus first." Charlotte frowned, clearly annoyed.
Russell nodded, and the two followed the flow of people exiting the overcrowded vehicle.
The outside air was chilly, but it helped calm their minds, which had been stirred by the noise and crowd.
"Looks like we'll have to walk back." Russell glanced at nearby Baker Street and remarked.
"Yeah." Charlotte replied, slipping both hands into the pockets of her trench coat as she began to walk.
Russell walked silently beside her.
The two proceeded quietly without mentioning the little incident that had just occurred inside the vehicle. Sunlight stretched their shadows long across the sidewalk. Occasionally, the shadows overlapped before quickly separating again—like two dancers chasing and playfully teasing each other.
"By the way, what time are we departing this afternoon?" Russell asked.
"Once it hits three o'clock, Mycroft should have a carriage arranged to pick us up." Charlotte answered.
"We still have a few hours of free time." Russell glanced at the clock tower on the street.
"Yeah." Charlotte nodded, then paused briefly before turning toward Russell. A faint trace of unease colored her gray-blue eyes. "What's the plan from here?"
"Sleep." Russell's answer was concise and to the point.
Charlotte remained silent for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh as if she had expected this response. "Besides sleeping?"
"Eating, drinking tea, reading the newspaper, listening to you play the violin." Russell counted them off on his fingers.
"Your life is just as boring as you are." Charlotte made a contemptuous remark.
"At least it's more interesting than rushing into a bank." Russell countered.
As expected, he received a glare from the girl.
The two bantered casually as they returned to the familiar entrance of 221B Baker Street.
The afternoon Baker Street was markedly quieter than its morning bustle—only a few pigeons cooed lazily while sunbathing on the rooftops.
Russell returned to his room, set his alarm clock, jumped into bed, and prepared for an extraordinarily long nap. Just as his consciousness began to fade, he heard the sound of a violin. It was soothing and melodic.
At three o'clock in the afternoon, the alarm clock rang on schedule, pulling Russell back from deep sleep into reality. He rubbed his sleepy eyes, stopped the alarm, lingered in bed for a minute or two, then reluctantly got up.
Just as Russell finished changing and was wondering whether to bring the repaired music box, his gaze suddenly landed on the teleportation anchor point he had set up in the bedroom. It might get found during security checks, so it's better not to bring it.
In that case, I can just come back once. It won't be much trouble. Thinking this, he got dressed and headed downstairs.
Charlotte was already waiting below.
"You're two minutes late." Charlotte glanced at her pocket watch after watching Russell slowly descend the stairs and announced the exact time.
"My alarm clock is two minutes behind yours." Russell said confidently. "The adjustment was wrong."
"No, that means your clock is two minutes fast."
"What a lame excuse." Charlotte widened her eyes and walked toward the door. "They're already gone."
Russell shrugged and followed her into the spacious four-seater passenger carriage.
The coachman asked no further questions. Once the two were seated, he skillfully cracked his whip, and the carriage smoothly departed from Baker Street.
Inside the carriage, it was quiet.
The only sound was the monotonous yet rhythmic rolling of the wheels over the cobblestones. Russell leaned back against the soft cushions, gazing absently at the city scenery flowing past the window. Charlotte closed her eyes, as if dozing off—or perhaps constructing a palace in her mind.
"By the way," Russell suddenly broke the silence. "What exactly are we doing on this trip?"
"Observe and wait." Charlotte opened her eyes and spoke concisely. "Mycroft will provide a detailed explanation of the entire security setup at Buckingham Palace and the locations where Moriarty is most likely to appear once we arrive. What we need to do is hide in the most suitable spot without anyone noticing and wait for the thief to fall neatly into the trap."
"It sounds like fishing." Russell commented.
"You can understand it that way." Charlotte still avoided making any firm statements. "It's just that this fish is a bit cunning."
"What if he doesn't come?" Russell asked again.
"Think of it as a vacation at Buckingham Palace." Charlotte spoke of it casually. "And he will definitely come." She added with conviction.
The carriage passed through the bustling streets of London and finally came to a slow stop in front of the tall, majestic iron gates of Buckingham Palace.
The royal guards at the gate had already been notified. After verifying the coachman's pass, they immediately opened the gates that ordinary people could never pass through in their lifetime.
The carriage entered the palace grounds, proceeded down a wide avenue lined with trees, and finally stopped in the square in front of the main building. Mycroft was already waiting there. He was dressed in his usual impeccably tailored suit, with that perfect, gentle smile on his face.
"Hello, Charlotte, and Watson."