After Lionel and Conan Doyle arrived in Edinburgh, they rested for a night at their hotel before heading to the University of Edinburgh the next morning.
They were there to visit Dr. Joseph Bell.
After exchanging pleasantries, Conan Doyle opened his briefcase, took out a thick stack of organized folders, and placed them on the coffee table in front of Dr. Bell.
Conan Doyle was too nervous to sit down and said with a trembling voice,
"Dr. Bell, this is a 'gift' Lionel asked me to bring to you."
Dr. Joseph Bell took the files and began to leaf through them—
"Composition and Color of Soil Samples from various London districts"
"Ash Formations of Common Cigars and Pipe Tobaccos"
"Common Stains on Major Building Materials in Greater London"
"Daily Meteorological Data for London, January-June 1880"
"Distribution of Main Plant Species along the Thames River"
"Hand Characteristics of Different Occupational Groups"
...
Dr. Joseph Bell opened the topmost folder, which was about soil samples.
After a careful read, he found that the content was far from superficial; it included detailed data and hand-drawn illustrations.
Even soil from different areas was sealed in small bags, labeled, and accompanied by detailed descriptions—
Blackish-brown humus-rich clay near Regent's Park;
Dark gray silt mixed with cinders and shell fragments from the docklands;
Common light yellow sandy soil mixed with lime fragments from the Whitechapel area...
He said nothing, picking up the records on cigar ash next.
"The Rules of a Master Detective" mentioned only over 20 types of cigar ash, but here there were a full 140 types.
This included almost all cheap tobacco and hand-rolled tobacco, even recording their morphological changes at different stages of combustion.
Dr. Joseph Bell did not flip through quickly, but the interest and surprise in his eyes grew steadily.
After a while, he put down the ash records and quickly browsed the files on hand characteristics and building materials.
The living room was silent, save for the rustle of turning pages and the distant sounds of students walking and talking.
Conan Doyle was so nervous he could almost hear his own heartbeat, clutching his hat tightly with both hands.
Lionel sat calmly, his gaze lowered, as if completely confident in everything.
Finally, Dr. Joseph Bell put down the folders, looked up, and his gaze first fell on Conan Doyle.
His voice betrayed no emotion:
"Sit down, Arthur—did you organize and compile all of this?"
Only then did Conan Doyle dare to perch on the edge of the sofa:
"Yes... yes, Professor. What you see today is mainly my work.
But in the future, about a hundred senior students from St. Thomas's and Guy's will participate. This information will be rapidly enriched!"
Dr. Bell's tone remained flat:
"You left the Royal Hospital, chose not to be a doctor, just to do this?"
Conan Doyle's face instantly flushed red; he lowered his head, his voice becoming even softer:
"Yes... yes, Professor.
I'm very sorry, I didn't consult you beforehand...
That assistant physician internship, thanks to your letter of recommendation, I..."
Dr. Joseph Bell raised a hand, interrupting him, but his gaze turned to Lionel:
"Mr. Sorell, I understand now.
You created that 'consulting detective' not merely out of literary fantasy, or an imitation of my daily habits.
These materials far exceed the background research a typical novelist does to create a sense of realism."
Lionel said frankly:
"Yes, Doctor. I believe that the insight you demonstrate in your daily diagnoses and assistance to the police is not an unreplicable 'magic.'
It is based on your extensive knowledge and rigorous logic, a 'science' that can be reproduced.
We—especially Arthur and his classmates—are trying to make it more systematic, easier to learn, and to apply."
He paused before continuing:
"I spoke with Colonel Vincent of CID in London; the nature of crime is changing, and the police need new tools.
And this seemingly trivial knowledge, once systematized, can guide detectives through complex crime scenes."
Dr. Joseph Bell was silent for a moment, then looked at Conan Doyle again; this time, his expression carried a hint of emotion.
He spoke slowly:
"Arthur, you abandoned a relatively stable path. However, preventing tragedies, bringing criminals to justice...
This may not be a choice of equally great value."
He sighed softly:
"I understand your choice. That letter of recommendation... I respect your decision.
Just remember, this path might be more difficult, and I hope I won't hear news of you giving up on it."
Conan Doyle suddenly looked up, his eyes full of surprise:
"Professor! You're not mad at me anymore? Thank you!"
Dr. Joseph Bell shook his head slightly:
"Mr. Sorell, as you wish, I can dedicate one day every two weeks to travel to London.
To see what those young people have collected, and to provide some professional guidance on classification and interpretation."
Lionel showed a sincere smile:
"Thank you very much, Dr. Bell. Your involvement means a great deal to us."
At this moment, Dr. Joseph Bell seemed to suddenly recall something and asked:
"Mr. Sorell, I have another question.
Both the University of Edinburgh and hospitals in London already offer forensic medicine courses, so why did you choose me?
I am just a surgeon; my expertise does not seem to lie entirely in this field."
Lionel straightened up, his tone certain:
"Dr. Bell, modern times do have professional forensic medicine.
But they often focus too much on the 'deceased' themselves, neglecting the crime scene—the environment where the crime occurred."
And your 'deductive method' incorporates all related traces into the scope of observation and reasoning.
The shape of footprints, dust on clothing, mud on trouser cuffs... this makes it more comprehensive and three-dimensional!
The corpse only tells us 'what happened,' while the traces at the scene tell us 'who did it' and 'how it was done.'"
Lionel finally said sincerely: "Just like in the 'Chantrell case,' you relied not just on toxicology, but also on your judgment of the environment.
Only you noticed that the gas leakage was insufficient to be fatal. Unfortunately, it seems that even now, only a few people have realized this."
After hearing these words, Dr. Joseph Bell fell into a long silence.
He squinted slightly, seemingly recalling the perplexing cases he had helped Scotland Yard solve.
After a while, he sighed, shaking his head self-deprecatingly:
"I solved so many cases for Scotland Yard in my own way—
In the end, the first to discover the value of this method was a young man from France, a novelist..."
Dr. Joseph Bell stood up and shook hands with Lionel:
"Mr. Sorell, Arthur, what you are doing is very interesting.
I am willing to provide assistance in any way I can."
(End of Chapter)