Chapter 43, Episode 30: Conspiracy
Episode 30 "Conspiracy"
Just imagine, all the main characters in Sherlock Holmes are involved in this murder case, wouldn't that be a movie-level "family portrait"?
I still felt there weren't enough suspects, so I pulled Watson aside and said, "Watson could also be a suspect. Yesterday, Michael II rolled around on the carpet, so maybe when Watson left in the middle of the night, there was cat hair on the soles of his shoes."
Miki was previously blind in her left eye and her right eye was also infected, which directly affected her mobility. Most of the time, she would stay in a corner and rarely move on her own. When she needed to move, she would usually move slowly close to the ground.
Later, I took it to the hospital for examination and had it surgically removed. This prevented infection, protected the other eye, and relieved my body of unnecessary strain.
The patient is recovering well after the surgery.
Now it can see the road clearly, and as long as there is a wall or other object on its right eye side that can be used as a reference, it can move very quickly. If there is no support around, it will also try to run, but occasionally it will fall to the ground due to loss of balance.
At first, after being overturned, it would instinctively curl up on the ground.
Every time this happens, I can't help but laugh out loud. But as soon as I laugh, it runs over following the sound and pats the back of my foot.
Herbers said it was confirming my location.
I feel like it's hitting me.
When I questioned Miguel II, it didn't refute me at all; it was extremely arrogant.
Later, as it grew bolder, it started rolling around everywhere, since there were soft things all over the house anyway. Yesterday, it forgot it wasn't at home. If I hadn't thrown a cushion in its path beforehand, it would have bumped its head on the coffee table.
Watson was feeding Mi Er when I suddenly pulled his arm, and Mi Er's freeze-dried food was pulled away from its mouth. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that Mi Er, despite not having eaten anything, was still squinting its eyes and chewing on the air with relish. It wasn't until two or three seconds later that it realized its mouth was empty and looked around for its food in confusion.
I almost died laughing at its reaction.
When I saw that Watson was about to feed it, I pulled Watson's hand away again, and saw Mi Er Shi trying hard to pry Watson's hand away.
London: "Why do you have to bully everyone?"
Me: "Because I like it."
London was both disgusted and helpless: "You're so mean."
Ha ha.
However, Watson still put the freeze-dried food back to Michael II's mouth.
This time, Mi Ershi grabbed his hand and started eating his fingers.
Feeling that distinct pull, Watson couldn't help but chuckle. He freed his other hand to pat Millwall II's head before speaking, "Milwald, please don't joke around. What would I be doing in Miss Blackwell's room in the middle of the night?"
“But this would be so much fun,” I said, clapping my hands. “We’d all be suspects. Wouldn’t it be great to line up in Scotland Yard and take a group photo?”
Holmes leaned back in his chair and said slowly and deliberately, "Judging from the method of the murder, Watson is indeed a possibility."
Upon hearing this, Watson was both anxious and amused, saying, "Please let me go."
“I could very well be,” Holmes said. “Milverton, on the other hand, is less certain.”
"for……"
As soon as I opened my mouth, I realized that Holmes was actively trying to hook me. Because I hadn't discussed the case's plot with them at all, he was just stretching out the line to make me interested.
The thought only flashed through my mind.
I continued, "Why can't I? I'm so smart, what can't I do?"
London: "This is murder. What's there to fight over?"
Me: "No, I can't lose. I want to join the race of Sherlock Holmes and Watson too."
London: "..."
Holmes looked in my direction and said, "Then you'll first need to know the background of this case."
Watson asked, "Do you know who died?"
I said, "As mentioned earlier, the case took place in Blackwell's room. If there is a victim, it can only be Ivy herself, or someone closely related to her."
“The deceased was Belfar, a mathematics professor at Durham University,” Watson said. “His students, Barton and Michel, discovered the body.”
I remember that when Watson got up and left the house, it was a little after 7:50 in the morning.
This means that the two students were standing in front of a single woman's door just after seven o'clock, looking for their teacher.
The timing itself is attention-grabbing enough.
I couldn't help but picture the scene in my mind: early morning, the corridor not yet fully awake, two students standing side by side in front of a room door, waiting for someone who didn't belong in that room to appear.
Jenny would always avoid me whenever she saw me talking to someone outside of work, and would even close the door for me.
The two students, however, chose to knock on the door on such a clear morning.
What happened to them that made them think this was something that couldn't wait until dawn to deal with?
"Where is Ivy?" I asked.
“Ivy is in Professor Belfast’s room,” Holmes said. “I noticed that she did indeed sleep in the professor’s room all night.”
I couldn't help but have a huge question mark pop into my head.
Did the two people in the room not even know that they had been switched?
If the killer was actually targeting Ivy, could Professor Belfast's figure and voice really be so confusing?
Or was this a mistake?
Watson continued, “Let’s review the case first. When the body was first discovered, the room key was already in place and the security lock was locked. Professor Belfast was lying on the bed, right in the blind spot of the doorway, with no obvious fatal injuries or signs of poisoning.”
He paused, then added, "Based on the statements of Barton and Michelle, Professor Belfa had a history of heart disease, and his time of death happened to fall during a period when heart disease is most prevalent."
While he was still talking, I quickly stuffed myself with a piece of kaya toast and added some mango sticky rice.
Holmes glanced out of the corner of his eye and saw me tapping on the "mango sticky rice" screen on the tablet, his expression remaining completely calm.
London: "Stop eating."
Me: "I'm hungry."
Watson didn't say much about my actions, and even took the time to hand me a tissue, but continued, "Judging from the current situation, this is very likely a case of sudden cardiac death."
Because of Watson's thoughtfulness, I took the opportunity to help liven up the atmosphere, saying in surprise, "Oh! That's strange! This case, which shows no signs of homicide, is described by Holmes as a criminal case, which means... the cat hair that shouldn't have been at the scene suggests that this was an unnatural death, right?"
"As expected of Sherlock Holmes!!!"
Holmes then calmly handed me another tissue.
I took it, puzzled. "What?"
Holmes said, "Control your volume."
I shut my mouth and clapped my hands.
“The cat hair was only one of them,” Holmes continued. “The key point is that I found a strychnine under his tongue.”
The 'Shi's Ning' is also known as 'Fanmubie'.
The name that is more often mentioned is "rat poison".
As early as the 16th century, it was used as a rodenticide in Germany; in the 19th century, it was also a major ingredient in laxatives. However, due to numerous cases of accidental ingestion and death of children in the United States, this ingredient was eventually removed from the list of over-the-counter drugs.
The scholar's life is extremely bitter.
It was a bitterness that was almost impossible to ignore; you could immediately detect it as soon as you put it in your mouth.
I realized this and looked up at Holmes.
If taken normally, or even accidentally, the victim would not be completely unaware.
Not to mention, it's hidden under the tongue. That's not a place where it would be "unintentionally swallowed".
“In other words,” Holmes continued, “this poison was either placed there when the victim was unable to resist, or…”
“Or perhaps he had already lost consciousness,” I continued.
Holmes glanced at me but did not deny it.
My thoughts, however, continued to wander in that direction.
I quickly snapped my fingers: "But the poisoning of [drug name] is not immediately fatal. There is a not-so-short time window between when the drug is absorbed and when symptoms become apparent."
I paused, then added, "In addition, as Watson just said, there were no signs of external injury on the deceased. That is to say, he did not even show any signs of struggling."
I looked up at them.
"That means that the poison may not have been the direct cause of his death."
Someone is doing something unnecessary.
After his death, someone put poison under his tongue.
"not necessarily."
The sound interrupted my judgment.
“It may not be the cause of death,” Holmes said. “Further autopsy is needed to draw accurate conclusions. But what can be inferred is that someone was in the room after the person died.”
Now I understand why he was so concerned about that little bit of cat hair.
“Despite the many questions that remain,” Holmes asked me again, “I need to ask you a question: Were you in Blackwell’s room before 7:30 this morning?”
He spoke calmly, but left me no room for maneuver.
"The deceased was neither Blackwell nor the person you are blackmailing."
“For you, killing will only bring trouble.”
"If you've been there, you can admit it directly."
These words were spoken with utmost seriousness.
He looked up at me.
His grey eyes were exceptionally clear under the light, calm and focused, as if he had already laid out all the possible answers before me, waiting for me to choose one. His expression wasn't sharp, but it carried an undeniable power.
This leaves an indelible impression.
It was a kind of oppressive feeling that wasn't intentional. What was even more impossible to ignore was the rationality, restraint, and unwavering resolve behind that calmness. And these qualities made his features stand out exceptionally clearly in the light and shadow.
I must admit that once someone is caught in that gaze, it becomes incredibly difficult for them to utter a single perfunctory word. And under that gaze, it's also very difficult for someone to continue lying.
I couldn't help but laugh.
“Yes,” I said, “I went to her room. Because she asked me to meet her.”
How did she invite you?
Holmes made no comment on the change in my attitude, but simply continued to press me for answers.
I took a sip of my Thai milk tea, carefully choosing my words: "She gave me an invitation with the time and address on it, so I went."
Watson frowned slightly and said, "You know perfectly well that her attitude towards you has always been insincere, so why did you still go to the appointment?"
"Do you have any evidence to prove this?" Holmes didn't follow the motive further, but went straight to the facts. "An email, or a handwritten note?"
I thought for a moment and said, "It was an invitation. I threw it away, and it's probably in the recycling bin now. I'm not sure if I can find it again."
"Anyway, I'm not the murderer, so it doesn't matter whether we find him or not."
"Let me make it clear beforehand, I'm not going to rummage through the trash cans. I'm very afraid of getting dirty."
After hearing what I said, Watson looked down at Michael II and then said nothing more.
Holmes replied, "When did you go? How long were you gone?"
“I was with you guys almost all day, and I only went to see her briefly during the few minutes I spent in the bathroom.”
Holmes asked, "Didn't you go to see her at the appointed time?"
"Of course not," I denied. "I'm not obedient."
"So what did you say?" Watson asked.
I said, "If it's not related to this case, I don't think it's necessary to reveal anything. If you're really curious, you can ask her. Because I just can't get any information out of her."
Holmes fell into a brief silence.
After a long pause, he said, "Then we'll talk to Mr. Moriarty later."
Just then, the mango sticky rice I ordered was served.
Holding up my spoon, I asked Holmes, "Want some?"
"Need not."
I turned to Watson again: "Do you want a bite? Holmes has already refused once. If you refuse too, I'll have to give it to Michael II."
"Kittens can't eat glutinous rice..."
Watson looked at my self-righteous expression and sighed helplessly, "I'll eat it."
After we finished eating, it was already past ten o'clock.
Holmes led the three of us (two people and a cat) to find Albert, who was drinking coffee.
Albert remained indifferent, seemingly unmoved by our arrival.
Holmes, sitting opposite him, asked, "Mr. Moriarty, did you go to Blackwell's room yesterday?"
The moment I finished speaking, the tip of my shoe quietly touched Albert's ankle.
It wasn't a kick, it was a block.
On the one hand, the kicking motion seemed playful, and Albert wouldn't notice; it had to be different from usual. On the other hand, the kicking motion was too large and would attract attention. After all, I didn't want Holmes and Watson to know that I had just covered for him.
The tip of my shoe had barely touched him when Albert's fingers, holding the coffee cup, paused almost imperceptibly, the rim of the cup lingering at his lips for half a second. When he put the cup down, he didn't lift his eyelids, his voice calm and even.
"No."
Me: "They're pretty savvy."
As soon as I thought that, my breath hitched.
Because under the heavy tablecloth, his leather shoes slowly turned to the side, the upper of the shoe touching my ankle, and gently hooked back.
Before I could step on him, he withdrew his foot.
At the same time, his expression remained calm, and he even leaned forward slightly, adopting a posture of focused listening.
And then his knee suddenly came under the table, right next to mine.
The warmth emanated from the fabric, so clear it sent a shiver down one's spine.
Before I could kick him back, his calm voice rang out again.
"Can I ask why you asked that?"
"..."
This person is really good at pretending.
London: "You guys look...like you're making it obvious to everyone that you're in cahoots."
I was furious: "I can't tell at all."
All I wanted to do was beat him up.
I looked up and met Holmes's calm, sweeping gaze. He said nothing, only slightly raised an eyebrow.
...Did he figure something out?
I started touching the tablet on the table to place my order.
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Author's note: 20 random small red envelopes!
Tomorrow's video will be from a third-person perspective. Leave a comment if you like it! Thank you!
This is a short story, so only one or two character storylines can be developed. Some characters will only be touched upon briefly.
Because I'm used to writing character relationships from scratch, building them up layer by layer, which usually takes at least dozens of chapters (there need to be many cases, which isn't realistic).
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