Russell maintained that posture. His arm ached slightly, but it was still bearable.
The light streaming through the window slid from Charlotte's forehead to the tip of her nose, then from her nose to her chin, as though an invisible hand was gently tracing her outline.
Russell's gaze followed the movement of the light.
When she slept, her expression was very peaceful.
There was no rapid-fire logic, no all-seeing gaze, no occasional sharp words.
She was simply an ordinary tired young girl wrapped in an oversized coat, being carried through early-morning London in a carriage.
The stubborn tuft of hair that had been standing upright still stood straight, swaying gently with the carriage's motion.
Russell stared at that tuft for a few seconds, then suddenly felt like laughing.
Suddenly, Charlotte's head slipped again.
Russell slowly lowered his hand, moving as gently as if afraid of hurting something.
She still had not woken up.
Like a small animal seeking warmth, she unconsciously rubbed her body against his palm.
Suddenly, the carriage turned a corner.
The wheels rolled over rough stone slabs, and the carriage shook violently.
Charlotte furrowed her brows, her eyelashes trembled, and she slowly opened her eyes.
Her gray-blue pupils were unfocused at first, as though she had not yet fully awakened from a distant dream.
The girl blinked, slowly focused her gaze, and then fixed it on Russell's face right in front of her.
She looked at him.
He looked at her.
The air seemed to freeze.
Russell was momentarily stunned, then finally realized his hand was still supporting her head.
Charlotte did not move. The two remained in the same position.
She simply stared at him, her eyes still holding the bewilderment of someone who had just woken up.
The tuft of hair that had been lifted now caught the sunlight, forming a faint golden halo, yet it still stubbornly stood atop her head.
"Ahem..."
Russell was the first to look away and break the silence.
"We're almost there."
He said, slowly withdrawing his hand.
Charlotte blinked and slowly sat up.
She looked down at the oversized coat, then tried to fix her hair with her hand.
She pressed down the protruding tuft, let go, and it immediately sprang up again.
She furrowed her brows and pressed it down once more.
But it still stuck out.
Watching her actions, Russell couldn't help but burst out laughing.
Charlotte looked up, a faint dangerous glint in her eyes.
"What are you laughing at?"
"N-Nothing…"
Russell quickly suppressed his smile and looked out the window.
"We're almost there."
Hearing this, Charlotte looked away and tried to press her hair down again, but eventually gave up.
She leaned back against the cushion and gazed at the street scenery flowing past outside the window.
"How long did I sleep?"
"Not that long," Russell explained. "Less than fifteen minutes."
Charlotte hummed in agreement and said nothing more.
The carriage continued forward.
The street scenery outside the window gradually became familiar. They had arrived at Fleet Street.
The carriage stopped in front of The Times building.
Someone was already waiting at the door—a man in a black suit and glasses, clutching a pocket watch and constantly looking around.
When he saw the carriage stop, he immediately came forward to greet them.
"Miss Holmes, Mr. Watson!"
There was a light note of relief in the man's voice. "You… um…"
His voice suddenly stopped, his gaze fixed on Charlotte.
More precisely, on the stubborn tuft of hair still protruding from the top of her head.
Charlotte stared at him expressionlessly.
"Did you have a pleasant journey?"
The man forced a professional smile and wisely said nothing more.
"Please come this way, everyone. Mr. Henry is waiting."
Russell paid the fare and got out of the carriage with Charlotte.
The two entered the building, passed through the narrow entrance hall, and climbed the creaking wooden stairs.
Yellowed bound volumes of newspapers lined the walls, and the air was filled with the distinctive scent of ink and paper.
The middle-aged man walked ahead at a brisk pace, as though in a hurry. He occasionally glanced back to confirm they were following, then muttered about the next step while continuing forward.
Charlotte said nothing, silently following behind while staring intently at the pages on the wall recording The Times' glorious history.
Russell walked half a step behind Charlotte, maintaining a subtle distance, occasionally glancing at her hair that swayed gently with her movements.
The three soon arrived at the editor-in-chief's office on the third floor.
The man warmly opened the door for them, greeted Henry Scott inside, then closed the door.
"Good morning, both of you."
Henry Scott was seated on the office sofa.
When he saw Russell and Charlotte enter, he smiled and extended his hand to them.
"Please have a seat."
Russell and Charlotte sat on the sofa. Henry's gaze lingered on Charlotte for a moment.
He was initially surprised by the tuft of hair on her head, but quickly hid it behind a professional smile.
That famous detective must have her reasons.
Afterward, the newspaper's front page will be arranged.
"Tea or coffee?"
Henry asked.
"Tea, thank you."
Russell answered for both of them.
Soon, a young clerk entered efficiently with tea and light refreshments.
"This is Miles," Henry introduced. "One of our most outstanding young reporters, and the lead interviewer for today."
"Miss Holmes, Mr. Watson—it is an honor to meet you both."
Miles looked excited. Clearly, this opportunity was extremely important to him.
"Hello."
Russell smiled gently.
Charlotte simply nodded and picked up the teacup in front of her.
"Shall we begin?"
Henry asked.
Hearing this, Russell glanced at Charlotte and gave a slight nod.
"Of course. No problem."
"Then," Henry rubbed his hands together and gave Miles the signal to start.
Miles cleared his throat and opened the notebook in his hand. His eyes were filled with barely concealed excitement and nervousness.
He began with questions related to recent cases such as the Hannigan incident and the Billson incident.
Russell usually answered these questions on her behalf. Charlotte only spoke on special occasions.
Miles and Henry had prepared in advance, so they were not surprised by this arrangement.
The interview proceeded smoothly, and all questions about the cases were answered quickly.
"Thank you both for your answers. This concludes our discussion on these matters."
Miles said.
He paused briefly, then continued.
"Next, shall we move on to some lighter topics?"
…
…
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