Kensington Block
Phaidon Tearoom—one of London's most famous spots for afternoon tea—was famed for its exquisite desserts, elegant ambience, and exceptional privacy, making it a favourite among high society and the elite.
When Russell pushed open the heavy glass door with its brass frame, the warm air inside was laced with the soft melodies of piano music, making him want to break into song.
I must have wandered into a celestial palace by mistake, he thought. Someone please put down the sand in your hands.
He gave his reservation details, and before long, a tuxedoed waiter led him to a private, quiet room on the second floor.
Mary arrived.
Today, she wasn't in her school uniform, but instead wore a simple black and white one-piece dress. Though not ornate, it set off her slim, upright figure perfectly.
Her long silver hair naturally flowed over her shoulders, her face lightly made up and, befitting her age, she looked more graceful and gentle than usual.
She rested her chin in her hand, gazing out the window. Whether she was enjoying the cityscape or simply lost in thought, it was hard to say.
At the sound of footsteps, she snapped out of her reverie and looked over at Russell. At once, a gentle smile appeared in her blue eyes.
"You're here," she said. "I thought you'd be late again."
"I promised I'd be on time today," Russell replied, taking the seat opposite her.
The waiter served an elegant three-tier pastry stand and a pot of Earl Grey tea fragrant with bergamot.
Scones, sandwiches, macarons—each small, delicate, and like works of art in themselves.
"You should try some. The desserts here are quite good," Mary said, pushing a small cake toward Russell.
Russell took a forkful, putting it in his mouth. Smooth cream unfurled across his tongue, soft bread melded beautifully with tart-sweet strawberry filling.
"It's delicious, but the portions are way too small," he commented.
"We generally call that exquisite," Mary smiled.
She sat across from him, hands clasped under her chin, quietly watching the young man before her.
"By the way, what do you think about Moriarty?" Mary asked. "Today's the countdown's last day. Do you really think he's going to Buckingham Palace?"
"I thought we were meeting here today to discuss research," Russell said.
Mary paused for a heartbeat, then one eyebrow arched.
"Of course," she replied. "If not to learn, why else would we be here?"
She picked up a textbook from the table, leafed through it, and gently tapped one chapter title with her fingertip.
"We're here to study—so sleeping through the session and doingze off afterward is strictly forbidden."
"I'll do my best."
"If you fall asleep, we're splitting the bill for tea. Just for reference, this meal costs about thirty pounds."
"That's a little steep, but manageable. I can afford it."
"I meant the private room reservation," Mary clarified.
"Mission accepted!" Russell said, giving a mock military salute.
The girl giggled, shook her head, and then composed herself, shifting into teacher mode.
From her bag, she pulled out a pair of non-prescription glasses and put them on. On her sweet, pure features, the glasses added an unmistakable air of intellectual beauty.
At this point, she swiftly gathered her loosely tied hair into a tidy ponytail, leaving only a few gentle strands to swing beside her ears as she moved.
This was a Mary Morstan like none he'd ever seen before.
"What's this…?" Russell tilted his head, one brow raised.
"Special effects?"
"Immersion," Mary answered, blue eyes peering at Russell over her glasses. "Do I look good with these?"
Adjusting her glasses, she looked at him as if to ask for a compliment.
"Do you praise British people when their English is good?" Russell shot back.
Mary was startled for a second, then got the joke. A soft blush crept up her cheeks, like rose petals deepening in the evening sun.
She awkwardly pushed up the bridge of her glasses. Through the lenses, her blue eyes shimmered with the emotional ripples caused by his offhand compliment.
A burning warmth spread to her ears, beyond what words could convey.
"Smooth talker," she scolded softly.
"I'm just stating facts," Russell replied with a shrug, still wearing a relaxed smile. He lifted the teapot and refilled Mary's empty porcelain teacup.
"Well then, Miss Mary," he set the pot down and leaned forward, like a model student eager to listen, "shall we begin?"
The girl gazed at him. In the afternoon sunlight, his dark eyes seemed clearer than ever. Not a trace of his usual laziness remained; on the contrary, he seemed even more focused.
Her heart skipped once more, and she felt strangely crestfallen.
"You're better suited for the humanities than engineering."
"Academic research can't save London."
"London isn't so far gone that it needs rescuing by a student who dozes off in class," she rebutted.
After these brief exchanges, they both quickly set aside the jokes and focused on today's main purpose.
"How much of Professor Fields' lecture do you remember from last week?" Mary asked.
"All of it," Russell replied.
"You really remember everything?"
"Nothing at all." Russell shook his head honestly.
Mary took a deep breath, collected herself, and reminded herself not to argue with a partner whose memory lasted only seven seconds.
"In that case, let's start from the beginning," she said, patiently beginning her explanation.
The afternoon at Phaidon Tearoom seemed to pass slowly, as if time itself had relaxed.
The gentle piano tones wafted through the air. Outside, busy Kensington streets buzzed with traffic, but inside their private room, it felt like a world apart.
Mary's voice, in contrast to an old professor's monotone lull, was pleasant, clear, and melodious.
She explained everything in detail, covering the basics of crystals, lattices, unit cells, and even the more complex crystal structures, breaking each point down clearly and concisely.
To make the abstract geometry more intuitive, she used macarons and scones from their three-tier dessert stand as models.
Russell listened intently—possibly more attentive than he had ever been in his life. Not because of credits or exams, but because it was Mary teaching the lesson.
He realized, for the first time, that learning could actually be delightful and bring joy.
"Do you understand?" Mary asked after finishing a section, taking a sip of tea to soothe her dry throat.
"Um." Russell nodded emphatically. "I got about eighty percent."
"And the other twenty percent?" she pressed.
"I got distracted."
Mary was silent for a moment, then finally let out a quiet sigh.
"It's fine. Let's take a break."
Russell nodded and glanced over at the three-tier dessert stand. "Teacher, may I have another scone?"
"As you like."
With permission granted, he helped himself to another without the faintest guilt.
They fell silent, a gentle hush enfolding the private room, mingling the scent of butter with thoughts hidden deep inside a young girl's heart.
Mary, head slightly lowered, pretended to focus on her cup of tea while secretly stealing glances at the boy across from her.
Meanwhile, Russell, watching Mary's flushed ears and her oddly serene composure, nibbled his snacks slowly.
It was one of those moments when time seemed to slow to a crawl.
By the time they left the tearoom, the sky was already dark. Streetlights flickered on, bathing the Kensington district in a warm, dreamy orange glow.
"Shall I walk you home?" Russell offered.
"Um." Mary accepted without protest, her tone gentle.
Together, they walked side-by-side down the quiet street. The evening breeze was cool, and Mary's long silver hair flowed behind her.
A few stray hairs brushed against Russell's cheek, tickling him ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly.
"Thank you for today," Mary finally mustered the courage to break the silence as they neared the Morstan residence.
"For what?" Russell turned to her.
"It's nothing… thank you for not falling asleep," she said, swallowing back the words she'd meant to say, joking instead.
"Should I say, you're welcome?" Russell smiled.
They exchanged smiles, communicating everything in silence.
"Well then," Russell stopped at the gate to the house, "I'll leave you here."
"Mm," Mary also stopped, standing on the steps and looking up at him just slightly.