Chapter 45, Episode 31: Don't fool around.

Episode 31 "Don't Be silly"

Right under Holmes's nose, I reached out and touched the order board.

Logically speaking, for someone who loves food, checking out what dishes different restaurants offer is not something that deserves special attention.

But I still have to say something.

This may be a truism, but it's important.

I've always felt that Sherlock Holmes suspected me, suspected that I was the mastermind behind all the chaos in London. For example, he suspected that I was behind the bank robbery and the Jeff Hope case.

This feeling didn't come from his words, but from his calm and persistent gaze. In everyday interactions, his gaze also seemed to be assessing.

Even now, if I'm just looking down at the menu, he has to guess whether I'm ordering food or trying to hide something.

Yes, I must say I did do a lot of small things that I felt guilty about and couldn't tell outsiders.

But I am definitely not Sherlock Holmes' enemy, Moriarty.

Actually, before this, I had a vague feeling that Holmes seemed to have been speculating about and doubting me.

I've always been a carefree person, and I mostly let these things go in one ear and out the other, rarely taking them to heart.

But just as I was looking down at my tablet, pretending to be engrossed in studying the menu, Holmes suddenly spoke up.

"Sometimes, being too frank is like being a thief; it doesn't show any integrity."

For a split second, my finger stopped on the screen.

His words were so incisive, even his tone didn't sound casual; it was more like he suddenly turned around and stabbed me precisely. I looked up at him, but I couldn't read any emotion on his face. Yet I knew very well that his words had a hidden meaning, and that he was openly speaking ill of me.

He discovered it.

Yes, I did lie to Sherlock Holmes.

I did not go to meet Ivy Blackwell privately.

There are two reasons.

First, her attitude was off; she must have something to hide. I couldn't be bothered with her pretense, and I didn't want to associate with her.

Secondly, in the original novel, I was shot and killed when I was alone in this case. I absolutely do not want to be alone; these days, whether it's eating, sleeping, or even going to the toilet, I need someone to accompany me.

Therefore, I would never appear at her room door.

Therefore, the cat hair found on the carpet could not have been brought there by me.

But then the problem arose.

If that's the case, why should I admit to it separately?

The answer is actually not complicated.

Because almost the instant I heard Holmes make his deduction, I realized something.

That's probably because Albert went to Ivy's room. Only he would likely pet my cat, and he'd go play with my Mi II all the time.

In other words, I have gotten dirt on Albert.

Since that's the case, why don't I just use it?

So I chose to confuse the public, not to cover up the truth.

As I said, I wasn't the only one who could have brought the cat hair to the scene; Watson could have done it too, and Holmes, who delivered the cat to my and Watson's room, could have done it as well. So, the question of "whether I was actually at the scene" simply adds a little more difficulty for Holmes in his investigation.

Personally, I'm never worried that Sherlock Holmes won't be able to solve the case, nor that he won't find out the truth.

He will definitely get on the right track.

For me, the outcome of this matter is not important.

So what's important?

Of course, my feelings are more important.

Now that Holmes has discovered that "I lied," I'm bound to be criticized for not taking things seriously.

I was wondering whether Holmes would now calmly point it out on the spot, or wait until the case was solved to use a seemingly casual but incredibly powerful remark to poke me in the head.

At this moment, Albert spoke up.

Because from beginning to end, it's been Holmes and Albert talking.

Albert clearly believed that Holmes's remark was directed at him.

"Mr. Holmes, do you think I'm lying?"

Albert's tone remained calm, even gentle. He didn't take Holmes's sharp, almost interrogative tone to heart, but simply replied politely and restrainedly, "I have indeed not been to Blackwell's room. Miss Blackwell is a public figure, and I have always maintained a clean reputation and would not allow anyone to have any unnecessary misunderstandings about me."

He spoke frankly, and his wording was impeccable.

Judging from his micro-expressions, there was indeed no trace of him lying. His breathing, eyes, speech rate, and even that just-right confidence were all so steady that it was impossible to find fault with them.

Furthermore, these words are both reasonable and logical.

As far as I know, or rather, based on information he occasionally and inadvertently revealed, Albert himself held a feudal title. His social circle consisted of royalty, nobles, and high-ranking officials.

In such an environment, whether from the perspective of identity, stance, or risk assessment, he would carefully choose the occasion and time to visit women of marriageable age in private.

Albert countered, "Or, Mr. Holmes, do you have any evidence that I was in her room?"

Holmes remained unfazed by the questioning and calmly replied, "Of course not."

Thank you for your response.

After saying this, Holmes paused, then got up and left his seat.

Watson's chair was pulled out as well, its wooden legs making a short scraping sound on the ground.

As soon as I saw them about to leave, I immediately put the order board back on the table and leaned forward, ready to get up as well.

For me, Sherlock Holmes and Watson are now practically my lucky charms.

"Don't leave me behind..."

Before I could even speak, and before I could even take a step, I caught a glimpse out of the corner of my eye that Albert hadn't gotten up.

He remained relaxed, leaning back in his chair, his fingertips tapping lightly on the edge of the polished table, seemingly lost in thought and calculation. The slightly noisy background sounds of the restaurant had long since been filtered out by the suddenly subdued atmosphere around our table.

Just before Holmes and Watson were about to disappear into the crowd at the door, his voice rang out at just the right moment, not loud, but clear enough to pierce through the short distance and reach my ears.

“Moran told me an interesting observation,” he paused, waiting for me to instinctively stop in my tracks, before continuing in that casual tone, “He said that you seem to be developing something more than a friendly… intimate relationship with the person living in 221B?”

He didn't give a direct answer, but the inquiry in his eyes spoke volumes: "So, is it one? Or two?"

At that moment, I was completely stunned.

My mind went blank almost reflexively, and I immediately asked London a question.

"London, are you really not called Albert?"

"Why do you two talk so similarly? You asked me a similar question before."

London: "..."

I couldn't help but add, "I'm an open-minded and tolerant 21st-century youth; I can accept any wild ideas. Don't have any unspoken concerns; just tell me directly."

Upon hearing this, London's response noticeably turned cold: "He Ji, stop talking nonsense."

If I'm called by my full name, it means London is extremely annoyed, or that they can't do anything about me.

Because I knew London's attitude was clearly the latter, I secretly chuckled to myself.

Of course, I wouldn't proactively reveal my weaknesses to Albert, giving him the opportunity to manipulate me.

This isn't the first time I've dealt with him.

"I'm not going to tell you."

I said that with a straight face and turned to leave.

But in the instant I looked up, I saw that Holmes and Watson had already walked quite far away. The shadows at the far end of the shop were stretched even longer by the light, and they didn't even look back once.

My sense of security shifted as I moved forward with them.

I immediately turned around and glared at Albert with displeasure: "It's all your fault for delaying me."

"Look, they're not waiting for me anymore."

Without waiting for his response, I quickly caught up with Holmes and Watson.

Hearing my footsteps, Holmes turned his head slightly, his tone calm and certain: "What are you talking about?"

He didn't turn around completely, but just turned his face to the side.

The sunlight shone in from the other side of the shop, outlining his clear profile, from his straight nose to his slightly downturned brow bone, and his eyes that looked unusually bright in the light.

Having vaguely realized that Holmes might have caught me red-handed, I behaved unusually well this time, betraying Albert almost without hesitation.

“He asked me,” I told him truthfully, “whether I was flirting with you guys.”

As soon as he finished speaking, Holmes couldn't help but chuckle softly.

The laughter was soft, but carried a clear sense of sarcasm.

"'Flirting'?"

He repeated the word, his tone as steady as if he were analyzing a poor premise of reasoning: "It's a vague, almost meaningless statement."

He turned his head slightly to look at me.

"How long, how intimate, how ambiguous does it have to be before it qualifies as flirting?"

This thoroughly deconstructive question struck me like a blow, leaving me instantly speechless and unable to cope.

"ah……"

What's going on?

I couldn't help but look at Watson, trying to confirm the reality with him.

Watson, however, looked equally bewildered, clearly not expecting things to escalate to this point. He opened his mouth but said nothing, only silently watching Holmes and pulling my arm to make me consciously maintain social distance from him.

Holmes's gaze swept over Watson's subtle movement, his expression unchanged, and his tone remained steady.

"I sometimes want to talk about lighter topics to liven up the atmosphere."

Watson: "?"

He clearly couldn't follow this logic. After a two-second silence, he couldn't help but speak up: "...Let's change the subject."

Holmes nodded and very considerately accepted the suggestion.

The next second, his tone changed, and he looked at me again, his expression even more serious than before.

"Then let's talk about something serious."

My heart skipped a beat.

"Why are you implying Moriarty?"

He said, word by word, "To make him say 'he didn't go to Blackwell's room yesterday'?"

This time, he didn't break down the words or play any language games.

"I hope you don't tell me this is just for fun."

The air fell silent at that moment.

...

Meow.

I was silent for only a moment, then immediately raised my hand like a primary school student, with an unusually sincere attitude.

"Actually, I really enjoyed that lighthearted topic we just discussed."

"I want to stay together until the end of time, until the seas dry up and the rocks crumble, until we're inseparable."

Holmes: "..."

I added, "If conditions permit, I hope there will be as many as possible!"

Watson: "..."

The next second, Hua Sheng let out a long, silent breath and said, "Milwald, don't be ridiculous."

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Author's Note: 20 random small red envelopes! Go to bed early!! Good evening!