When Russell finished speaking, a brief silence fell over the interview room.
Miles's pen hovered above the notebook. Henry's hand holding the teacup also froze in mid-air. Steam rising from the tea slowly swirled in front of his surprised face.
"Buckingham Palace?"
Miles's voice trembled slightly, as if afraid he had misheard.
"Yes," Russell nodded calmly. "Mr. Mycroft commissioned us to assist with a… well, rather special case."
"There are several important matters involved."
Charlotte repeated the words from the side, her tone carrying a teasing nuance that only Russell would notice.
"A certain individual was about to gain the privilege of enjoying afternoon tea at Buckingham Palace for an extended period."
"Um…" Russell cleared his throat twice and shot Charlotte a look with his eyes.
Don't say it.
Miles and Henry stared at each other all day, finding the same light in each other's eyes.
"Could you tell us a little more?"
Miles tried to sound professional, but the trembling of his pen revealed his inner excitement.
"Well… about that."
Russell fell silent for a moment.
"There are some things we can't discuss in detail, so I hope you both understand."
"However, we can tell you that Buckingham Palace highly valued our work. In that setting, Ms. Holmes's expertise was fully recognized."
"In such scenes…" Miles murmured while sliding his pen across the paper.
"In other words, your professional skills have already been officially acknowledged?"
"You could say that."
Russell nodded.
He glanced at Charlotte beside him. The young woman held her teacup, sipping her tea with a somewhat absent-minded expression. Her gaze was slightly lowered, as if the conversation had nothing to do with her.
A drop of tea glistened on Charlotte's lips in the light, giving them a moist sheen.
She said nothing, her expression unchanged, simply sitting there quietly—yet it felt as though all the light in the room had converged on a single point.
Russell spoke eloquently beside her, his tone calm and composed, every word perfectly chosen.
Like a lazy cat, she occasionally lifted her teacup for a sip, listening as though completely indifferent to everything.
However, whenever certain keywords were mentioned, the tip of the cat's tail twitched ever so slightly.
"So, could you tell us specifically what kind of substance it was?"
Miles asked cautiously.
"Of course, if it's inconvenient…"
"It's not very convenient."
Russell gently interrupted him. "You know how royal affairs are."
"Is it related to Moriarty?"
Miles continued asking without giving up.
"Miles."
Henry cleared his throat twice to cut off his subordinate, but his gaze remained fixed on Russell.
"We cannot discuss this matter any further."
Russell smiled.
Henry and Miles understood each other perfectly. The very act of not being able to reveal it was a form of disclosure.
"Got it, got it!"
Miles scribbled furiously in his notebook.
"You understand, Mr. Miles."
Russell casually warned him, lowering his gaze to the notebook.
"When writing it down on paper, no matter how clearly you write, you can never write too much."
"Of course!"
Miles nodded vigorously, then erased what he had just written.
"Well then," Miles took a deep breath and tried to refocus on the notebook.
"Regarding your experience at Buckingham Palace, is there anything… I mean, any interesting details you could share?"
Russell thought for a moment.
"The corridors are very long."
He said, "Longer than you'd think."
"On both sides hung portraits of successive kings and queens, and it felt as though the eyes in those portraits were following you. It was a magical sensation."
He paused, then added, "Also, the afternoon tea there is quite delicious."
Charlotte finally let out a very small laugh.
The sound was so faint it was almost inaudible, yet in the quiet interview room it rang out surprisingly clearly.
Miles and Henry both looked at her.
Charlotte's smile vanished, returning to her usual expressionless face. Only the tips of her ears, slightly flushed, betrayed that she had lost her composure moments earlier.
"Um," she cleared her throat, set down her teacup, and said, "The tea has gone cold."
Russell glanced at her, then looked down at the teacup in her hand.
"Shall I bring another cup?"
"No need."
"I knew it."
The short exchange ended, and the interview room fell silent once more.
"Um," Henry cleared his throat, "next question, next question."
Miles took a deep breath to calm his excitement and considered what to ask next.
He first glanced at what he had written, then for no particular reason furrowed his brows.
For some reason, Miles intuitively felt—
Compared to the earth-shattering cases, the subtle, indescribable tacit understanding that existed between these two was probably what would most captivate readers.
After thinking for a moment, he looked at Charlotte. His tone was much more polite than before.
"Miss Holmes," Miles began.
"As London's most famous detective, you must have met all kinds of people, haven't you?"
"Um."
Charlotte avoided a direct answer. "But most of them are quite boring."
Miles deliberately ignored the latter part of her statement and threw out the question most important to him.
"So, what kind of person does your assistant, Mr. Watson, appear to be in your eyes?"
The question was somewhat abrupt, yet entirely natural.
Charlotte's hand, just about to pick up her teacup, froze in mid-air.
She looked up at Russell beside her.
Russell was also staring at her with a curious smile, as if eagerly awaiting her answer.
Charlotte stared at his face for a few seconds, then casually looked away, picked up her teacup, and took a sip.
She did not answer.
It was the kind of thing that required time to think.
The interview room was silent. Only the ticking of the old-fashioned wall clock, the distant rumble of carriages from Fleet Street, and the faint sound of pages turning from the editorial office downstairs could be heard.
Miles's hand, still gripping the pen, hovered in the air, waiting.
Henry's gaze was fixed on Charlotte. He waited.
Even the thin winter sunlight streaming through the window seemed to be waiting for something.
She took another sip of tea, surrounded by its rich aroma, various thoughts circling in her mind.
Charlotte slowly set down her teacup and raised her head.
The white porcelain clinked against the saucer, producing a clear, light sound.
"Russell Watson."
The moment she spoke the name, Miles's pen immediately dropped onto the paper.
"He is…" Charlotte's voice caught.
The girl's gaze was fixed on Russell, as if trying to extract keywords.
Finally, after a painfully long wait, Charlotte spoke the latter half of the sentence.
"He is a very strange man."
AN: Lately, I've been thinking a lot about how to develop Charlotte's romantic storyline. After all, her personality is quite different from Mary's—much more complex.
Yesterday, while browsing book reviews, I came across a wonderful book by Kuroko Kayoko. After reading it, I felt like… my thoughts had become much clearer.
People should read more books.
…
…
PS: Please support me and read advanced chapters at patreon.com/AbsoluteCode