221B Baker Street.
Sprawled on the sofa, Charlotte heard her phone—which hadn't rung in ages—suddenly start ringing.
Not many people knew this number.
Lestrade counted as one. Mycroft counted as one.
And then... Russell Watson also counted as one.
However, considering that fellow was currently in class, the caller wouldn't be him.
Mycroft... probably wasn't it either; he was currently busy with Ethan Roy's affairs.
That left only Lestrade.
He had likely encountered another unsolvable case.
Charlotte pinched the bridge of her nose, then rose from the sofa and went to the phone.
However, before she could even speak, a voice rang out from the other end first.
A familiar voice, one that shouldn't have appeared at this time, and one that was incredibly punchable.
"Hello, may I ask if this is Ms. Charlotte Holmes, who lives at 221B Baker Street and studies at Imperial College?"
"...."
Charlotte remained silent for a moment.
After a while, she finally spoke, her tone carrying a rare trace of confusion.
"Why is it you...?"
She asked.
"At this time of day, you should still be in class, right?"
"Based on a variety of reasons, I skipped class."
Russell's tone on the other end of the phone was brisk.
"And then?" Charlotte said. "Did you call specifically to show off to me?"
"Aren't you curious about where I am?" Russell asked in return.
"I have absolutely no interest in your itinerary after playing truant. If you haven't said anything meaningful within the next three sentences, I'm hanging up."
"Look at you, getting anxious again."
"You still have two sentences." Charlotte picked up the cup of black tea in her hand.
"At noon, I chatted with Mary about some content regarding... dynamic spatial connections, and something about gearboxes and the like."
"Last sentence."
"I am at Ms. Holly Davey's home."
·
·
The other end of the phone fell silent for a moment.
Russell leaned against the telephone stand, a smile on his face, seemingly able to imagine Charlotte's expression at this moment.
He held the phone in one hand, while the other hand idly played with a fountain pen on the desk.
"What are you doing at Holly Davey's home?"
Charlotte's voice came through the receiver.
"Don't tell me you are that pervert?"
"That remark is a bit hurtful, Charlotte." Russell shrugged.
"Didn't I tell you? At noon, I chatted with Mary about... dynamic spatial connections."
"Speak human."
"Simply put, we suspect that the reason the ghost can come and go freely in Ms. Davey's home is likely because he relied on some kind of mechanism."
Russell explained, recounting his discussion with Mary from noon exactly as it happened.
After listening, Charlotte fell into a brief contemplation.
Subsequently, she spoke up. "Your findings are not too different from what I thought."
"What, you guessed it too?" Russell raised an eyebrow on the other end of the phone.
"I just looked through the archives regarding that area, and I discovered that the apartment building had been remodeled," Charlotte said.
"In order to maximize the use of space, the builders asked the architect to erect a wall in the room, dividing it in two, renting out one apartment as two."
"They really knew how to make money," Russell said. "And then?"
"And then, I was thinking about the possibility and rationality of a mechanism—and immediately after, you called. So... what is the result?"
"The result is that your line of thinking is correct. I am currently thinking that the bookshelf in the bedroom might be a mechanism.
But the problem is, I just discovered that it seems impractical."
"Mm-hm?"
"Those books were all bought and placed there by Holly Davey herself. Do you think that if even she didn't know about the existence of this mechanism, how could that ghost know?"
Russell said.
"Moreover, that mechanism cannot be on my side—it is on the other side."
"It looks like your brain hasn't rusted to the point of needing lubricating oil yet," Charlotte said.
"So, since you know all this, why did you still call?"
"To report my progress, of course, and there is currently still a problem."
"Speak."
"I can't possibly trespass into a private residence, can I?" Russell said.
"If you really plan to do that, there's actually no problem," Charlotte said.
"If you can help a lonely elderly person living alone catch a parasite hiding in her home, I think she would be very grateful to you."
"But what if that ghost isn't home, and she mistakes me for a burglar?"
"Then there is no need to worry either. I will go to Scotland Yard to fish you out."
"I don't want a criminal record, thanks." Russell rolled his eyes.
Actually, getting into the next-door room wasn't difficult.
He could just throw a smoke grenade directly.
The problem was, what if someone was there after he went over?
How would he explain that?
The old lady was seventy years old; if he suddenly performed a "living person appearing out of thin air" trick, he'd scare her into submission.
That would really be a "return to youth" moment.
"Then knock politely and tell the other party your purpose.
If she agrees, then everything is easy to discuss."
"And what if she refuses?"
"Suppose I told you that there is currently a pervert hiding in your home, and that your apartment and the apartment next door are actually connected by a secret door.
Now, for the sake of your safety, I wish to enter your apartment to conduct a search. Even if I can't find that pervert, I at least need to confirm where the secret door is.
So, here comes the question—under what circumstances would you choose to refuse?"
Charlotte asked in return.
"Uh... if I had a guilty conscience."
"Mm-hm, so—please, Mr. Watson.
Remember to be polite and say hello."
"I don't need you to teach me that sort of thing."
Russell rolled his eyes, then hung up the phone.
He took a deep breath, then put down the receiver, turned around, walked out the door, and arrived at the unit next door.
Knock, knock, knock—
A burst of unhurried knocking sounded.
"Coming, wait a moment."
From behind the door came the sound of rustling, slow footsteps unique to the elderly.
Russell subconsciously straightened his collar, cleared his throat, restrained his usual slightly lazy expression, and replaced it with a harmless smile.
Creak—
The door was pulled open from the inside, revealing the kind face of the old lady he had met yesterday.
"Ah, it's you, young man."
The old lady clearly still remembered Russell; her cloudy but friendly eyes revealed a benevolent smile.
"That poor girl from last time, is she doing alright?"
"Thank you for your concern. She is much better, and her emotions are quite a bit more stable,"
Russell replied politely, his tone gentle.
"That is good, that is good." The old lady nodded, seemingly breathing a sigh of relief.
"If there is anything you need help with, you can come find me anytime, poor child."
"Actually, Madam," Russell's face revealed a perfectly measured expression of embarrassment mixed with a hint of apology.
"I came today because I indeed have a small matter I would like to ask for your help with."
"Oh?" The old lady looked at him curiously. "What is it? Speak, child."
"It is like this,"
Russell began his set of rhetoric that he had woven long ago.
"I am a student of Materials Science at Imperial College. After leaving yesterday, I mentioned the situation at Ms. Davey's home to my mentor."
"Mm-hm." The old lady listened earnestly.
"My mentor believes that since the construction era of this apartment building is quite old, the pipes or wiring inside certain walls may have aged.
In the dead of night, due to thermal expansion and contraction or water flow, this might produce some... well, relatively difficult-to-explain sounds or phenomena."
Russell paused, observing the old lady's expression.
The other party seemed a bit lost in the clouds, but her eyes already held a few points of worry.
"Are you saying... this building is dangerous?"
"No, no, no, please don't misunderstand." Russell hurriedly waved his hands to reassure her.
"It is not that serious. It is just some very normal aging phenomena, completely within the safety range.
I came today just to perform a simple inspection to confirm the source of the problem. This will also allow you and Ms. Davey to feel at ease, wouldn't you say?"
Hearing this, a look of realization appeared on the elderly person's face.
"So that is how it is. Then of course, there is no problem."
She agreed without even thinking about it, turning sideways to make way at the door.
"Come in quickly, child. Do you need me to do anything?"
"You don't need to do anything, Madam." Russell breathed a sigh of relief, then walked into the room.
"I can handle it myself; I won't take up too much of your time."
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