Mycroft's figure disappeared into the carriage in an instant. Only the rhythmic sound of hooves fading into the distance remained on the quiet street.
Russell stood there for a long time, watching the carriage grow smaller and smaller.
A cool, damp wind blew in from the Thames, calming his slightly heated mind from the conversation.
He hadn't been unaware of the possibility that his identity might be exposed. In fact, he had been prepared for it.
But to his surprise, the one who opened the box first was Mycroft.
Leaving him not even a single moment to react.
There was no escaping this wave of ambiguity.
At the very least, on the positive side, Mycroft didn't harbor any malice regarding his true identity.
To him, Russell's greatest value wasn't as Moriarty, but as someone who could properly take care of Charlotte.
All the effort and dedication he had poured in over the past few months hadn't been in vain.
Russell let out a sigh, then turned and began walking toward 221B Baker Street.
When he got home, the lights in the living room were off. Only a small nightlight remained lit.
Seeing this, Russell went upstairs and glanced into Charlotte's room.
The door wasn't fully closed. Warm firelight leaked through the gap.
"Come in."
Charlotte said.
Hearing this, Russell raised one eyebrow and pushed the door open to enter.
Charlotte was sitting in the armchair, holding a cup of hot black tea.
Hearing the sound of the door opening, she glanced up at Russell before looking away.
"You're back?"
"Mm."
Russell nodded, took off his coat, and sat down next to her.
"What did Mycroft say to you?"
She asked casually.
"He didn't say anything."
Russell poured himself a cup of black tea. "He was talking about you."
"For example?"
He said you're the dumbest one in the family.
Russell relayed Mycroft's words without changing a single one.
Hearing this, Charlotte fell silent. Her previously calm gaze gradually turned dangerous.
"Anything else?"
She asked.
Russell picked up his teacup and slowly, deliberately took a sip, as though buying time.
Charlotte's gaze remained fixed on him without urging, just like when they had been on the bridge yesterday.
"He also said…"
Russell set down the teacup and chose his words carefully.
"He told me to take good care of you."
Charlotte raised her eyebrows slightly.
"You're going to look after me?"
"Mm."
Russell nodded.
"What kind of care?"
"Why would I know… He didn't say anything specific."
Russell shrugged. "Same as always. Making breakfast, reading the morning paper, brewing coffee…"
"And assisting with casework and helping with experiments too."
Charlotte added.
"Hmm… Well, something like that. Anyway, that's all there is to it."
Russell said.
Having received an affirmative answer, Charlotte quietly picked up her teacup and took a sip.
"In that case, let's start right now."
She said this and set the teacup down.
Hearing this, Russell turned around in confusion and looked at Charlotte, who had stood up.
"Wha… What are you doing?"
"Along with the experiment."
Charlotte said, "You're the one who admitted it yourself."
"So?"
"Actually, right now is exactly when I need to conduct an experiment."
Charlotte looked at Russell and added, "Right now."
Russell also looked at Charlotte. His eyes couldn't hide his confusion.
"Experiment?"
He repeated Charlotte's words. "What kind of experiment?"
Charlotte didn't answer.
She stood in front of Russell, looking down at him.
This posture looked somewhat unnatural, but she was clearly trying her best to exude an air of dominating the entire situation.
Unfortunately, her slightly reddened ear tips and somewhat stiff posture undermined the effectiveness of her efforts.
"What kind of experiment is it?"
Russell asked again, even more confusion showing on his face.
Charlotte took a deep breath.
The squeaky wheel gets the grease.
But she was Charlotte Holmes. She didn't cry.
She only knew her own way of doing things.
"Stand up."
She said.
Russell hesitated for a moment, but still obediently stood up.
The distance between the two suddenly shrank.
Russell was so close to her that he could smell the scent of coffee and books coming from her.
Charlotte raised her face and met Russell's eyes.
There seemed to be something shining in those gray-blue pupils.
And then she extended her hand.
Her white hand paused in mid-air, as though confirming something or hesitating for one final moment.
Then that hand crossed the small distance between them and gently rested on Russell's shoulder.
"Charlotte?"
Russell called out cautiously.
Hearing this, the girl's body trembled almost imperceptibly, but she didn't loosen the hand gripping his shoulder.
On the contrary, she tightened her grip slightly.
Then, while Russell wore a somewhat surprised expression, Charlotte leaned forward.
She gently rested her head on his shoulder.
Soft curls brushed against Russell's cheek, creating a slightly ticklish sensation.
At such close proximity, he could even feel Charlotte's somewhat uneven breathing.
Russell stood there in a daze.
He looked down at the girl in his arms. Her head was buried against his chest, revealing bright red ears and faintly trembling shoulders.
His mind went completely blank.
What's going on?
What day is it today?
Why is everyone——
"Don't move."
Charlotte's voice came from against his chest, muffled and deliberately calm.
It was so deliberate that anyone who heard it would immediately know it was fake.
"Don't say anything."
Russell didn't move and didn't speak.
He simply stood there, feeling the faintly trembling body in his arms, the warmth transmitted through his shirt, and the heart pounding violently right next to his own chest.
The room was quiet.
All that could be heard was the crackling of firewood in the fireplace, the occasional sound of wind from outside the window, and the sound of heartbeats.
It was impossible to tell whose was whose or which was faster.
He didn't know how much time had passed. It felt so long that Russell thought he might stay like this until dawn.
Charlotte finally moved.
She slowly raised her face. Her gray-blue eyes shone brightly in the moonlight.
The girl's voice finally rang out, even more muffled than before.
"This was... an experiment. The experiment is now over."
She said it as though deliberately emphasizing the nature of the hug.
"So…" Russell paused for a moment before asking, "What's the conclusion?"
Charlotte was silent for a while.
She stared at Russell for a long time. Those eyes held all kinds of emotions unrelated to reason.
After staring for a long while, Charlotte suddenly smiled.
That smile was faint and delicate, like a fleeting epiphyllum blooming quietly at night.
The conclusion is——
As she said this, she suddenly threw herself back into his arms without any warning.
This time, it wasn't an experiment.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder. The gesture carried a strong, yet unreasonably possessive will.
"I hate Mycroft."
Warm breath transmitted through the fabric gently fell onto Russell's shoulder.
The scent of coffee mixed with book pages became even clearer than before.
Similarly, at this distance, Charlotte also caught the unpleasant white-tea fragrance coming from Russell.
From Russell's collar, from his unwashed shirt all day, and from every part of his body that had touched Mary, a stimulating scent seeped out and drifted into the girl's nostrils.
Charlotte lightly furrowed her brows, then unconsciously tightened her arms a little more.
As though trying to cover up the smell this way and layer her own scent on top of it.
The fireplace flames flickered, enveloping the room in warm orange light.
Russell straightened his back and looked down at the fluffy head in his arms, still trying to process what had just happened.
Was there any direct or indirect logical connection between accepting Mycroft, conducting experiments, and hating him?
He felt as though his brain cells were running out of energy. The moment Charlotte said those words, he felt as though he had been hit by a single point in a starless sky.
Charlotte hugged him tightly, burying herself in his arms like a cat that had found a safe place.
It was unclear how much time passed before Russell finally regained his voice.
"Charlotte."
He spoke hesitantly, his voice lower than usual.
"Is the experiment really over?"
Hearing this, the head in her arms moved slightly, as though adjusting its position.
"...It can be extended."
Her voice leaked from deep in her chest, muffled but very determined.
"It's common sense for the experiment technician to have the authority to adjust the experiment time based on the actual situation."
Russell was silent for a few seconds.
"You're right."
As long as she didn't suddenly raise her face and say "We're not friends anymore," there was no problem.
Having experienced something like this twice in one day, he was afraid he would lose his rationality and tighten the throbbing tumor in his chest until it burst.
As long as we don't bring that up, let's leave her as she is for now.
Anyway, being hugged by her doesn't hurt, and even being hugged all night doesn't hurt…
At worst, my legs will go numb, and I'll just have to make up for the lack of sleep for tomorrow's classes.
Russell looked up at the window half-hidden by the curtains.
The street was deserted, the streetlights dim, and the moon hung coldly in the sky.
He suddenly recalled the conversation he had with Mycroft on the street.
Between the sun and the moon, which would you choose?
He hadn't answered at the time.
Because that question was actually meaningless.
But now, feeling the soft and delicate body in his arms and sensing his heart beating more and more regularly, he suddenly wondered why he couldn't have everything.
It might sound a little greedy, but how could he obtain both the sunlight and the moonlight at the same time?
But since I've never killed anyone or set anything on fire in all the years I've lived, what's wrong with being a little greedy?
In the years we've lived, we must have possessed at least one of greed, anger, or ignorance.
…
He didn't know how much time had passed, but Russell felt his legs starting to go numb.
He was about to ask Charlotte if the experiment was over when he suddenly looked down and noticed the girl's steady, long breathing.
She seemed to be asleep.
"If you were sleeping, you should have said so earlier."
Russell quietly sighed.
Then he bent down, changed his posture, and gently picked Charlotte up sideways.
He carried Charlotte into the bedroom. The lights in the room were off, and only the moonlight streaming through the window spread a layer of silver frost across the floor.
Russell carried her to the bedside and gently laid her on the somewhat unclean bed.
He took off her shoes, pulled the blanket over her, and carefully tucked it in so as not to wake her.
Charlotte turned over and buried her face in the pillow, muttering something.
Russell couldn't make out what she said clearly. Perhaps because Charlotte's pronunciation had already become somewhat unclear by that point.
In short, he stood by the window and observed her for a while under the moonlight.
Only after confirming that Charlotte was truly asleep and that there were no other adverse effects did he feel relieved.
However, just as he turned around, someone's hand gently tugged at the hem of his clothes.
Russell stopped.
When he turned back, he realized that Charlotte had opened her eyes at some point.
Those gray-blue eyes shone especially brightly under the moonlight, with no trace of sleepiness.
She simply stared at him without saying anything, firmly gripping the hem of his shirt with no intention of letting go.
"What's wrong?"
Russell asked quietly.
"The experiment isn't over yet."
Charlotte said in a small voice that she had been pretending to sleep just now to see if Russell would react.
But in the end, this man didn't take any action. She didn't have the courage to take the initiative like Mary did.
She was certain that Mary had taken the initiative in these actions. Because if this man wouldn't do something like that to her, then he definitely wouldn't do it to Mary either.
"But the observation subject is already tired."
Russell said in a troubled tone, "Let's talk tomorrow, okay?"
A hint of hesitation appeared in Charlotte's eyes upon hearing this, but she still let go of his hand.
Seeing this, Russell stared at her for a while before finally sighing.
"Charlotte."
"Hm?"
"Stand up."
Russell said this and pointed toward the doorway.
"What are you doing?"
Charlotte looked at Russell curiously, as though she couldn't understand what he meant.
Russell took a deep breath, as though making a major decision, and said to her,
"Sleep in my room."
Hearing this, Charlotte was slightly surprised. Her heartbeat quickened.
"Then… what about you?"
She asked instinctively. There was a faint trace of expectation in her tone that even she herself hadn't noticed.
"I'll sleep here."
Russell said, "I can't let you sleep on the floor, right?"
The light of expectation disappeared from the girl's eyes.
"Oh."
She replied and obediently got down from the bed.
Russell watched as she left, passed through the living room, entered his own room, and then went into the bedroom.
Charlotte pushed the door open and entered without any hesitation.
This action was much more justifiable than sneaking in during the day.
She walked to the bedside, took off her shoes, lifted the blanket, and lay down.
The soft bed instantly enveloped her, and that familiar, comforting scent once again wrapped around her.
Charlotte turned sideways, buried her face in the pillow, and took a deep breath.
This time, she didn't think about anything anymore.
There was no Moriarty, no Professor, no complicated cases, and no Mycroft's irritating face.
Her mind was completely blank. Only that familiar, reassuring scent and her gradually calming heartbeat remained.
This time, she truly fell asleep.
…
In the neighboring room—Charlotte's bedroom.
Russell lay on the bed, staring at the ceiling.
This was a bed he had never slept in before. He had come here countless times and made the bed for her many times, but this was the first time he had actually lain down on this bed.
The bed was a little harder than his own, the pillow height wasn't quite right, and the blanket carried the scent of coffee, books, and a faint trace of some chemical reagent—Charlotte's scent.
He closed his eyes.
Sleepiness didn't come at all.
He opened his eyes again and sat up on the bed.
Things had come to this point.
Let's go visit Lestrade's family.
….