"I noticed that too."
Russell nodded in agreement and slowly popped the last bite of his sandwich into his mouth.
"So, what are you going to do? Turn your own brother Mycroft in?"
"Why would I?" Charlotte countered with a question. "Just because he teamed up with Moriarty to expose other people's crimes?"
"I was simply curious about the meaning behind Mycroft's actions. From a purely consequentialist point of view, Moriarty's activities didn't seem to have harmed Britain's national interests. If anything, you could say he brought enormous benefits to the country."
"That's true."
Russell nodded in agreement, then as if suddenly recalling something, he asked casually,
"So, are you still investigating him?"
"Who? Moriarty?"
"Mm."
"Maybe you should investigate him. The professor's case is at a standstill right now, and you need something new to stimulate your brain."
"Like tracking down the identity of that thief… something like that?"
"If Lestrade heard you say you'd 'talked yourself into' that, he'd be over the moon."
"You're overthinking it. I'm only interested in finding out who he is, not in what kind of person he is."
"Even if I knew his true identity, even if Lestrade came straight to me, I still wouldn't tell him."
Charlotte picked up her coffee cup again and took another sip.
Hearing this, Russell let out a small, discreet breath of relief and lowered his gaze to the newspaper.
"Yeah, it really has blown up into quite a scandal."
"Right? Who would've thought that stealing a single snuffbox would cause this much trouble."
Charlotte's eyes followed his line of sight.
"How boring."
"Truly." Russell nodded like a cold, mechanical approval device.
"By the way, where did you go yesterday?" Charlotte asked offhandedly. "Mrs. Hudson said you hadn't come home at all since the afternoon."
"I was going to head to the Phaidon Tearoom."
"By yourself?"
Charlotte glanced sideways at him.
"And with Mary," Russell said slowly and very carefully. "We were revising for next week's quiz."
Charlotte raised a brow at that. "You? Revising?"
"What's wrong with that?" Russell nodded as if it were perfectly natural.
"Aren't you always asleep in class?" she asked.
"That's why I need to revise… or rather, I need extra help. Mary really is an excellent teacher, you know."
"…"
Charlotte didn't reply immediately. She seemed to be thinking. After a while, she finally set down her coffee cup.
She leaned forward a little, resting her elbows on her knees, fingers laced together, and stared directly at Russell.
"So you and she spent the entire afternoon studying together at the Phaidon Tearoom?"
"If not, then what?" Russell nodded.
"Just the two of you?"
"At the very least, I didn't see a third person. Maybe Moriarty and the Professor were there too, hiding in a corner somewhere."
Charlotte's eyes widened and she looked away. She seemed to be mulling over something, but in the end, she said nothing.
She drained the last sip of her coffee, set the cup down, stood up, and went upstairs to her room.
Not long after, a beautiful violin melody drifted down from above.
…
Buckingham Palace was deathly quiet that day.
Servants and guards alike wore solemn expressions, as though they were about to face some terrible enemy. Their steps were lighter than usual, and when they spoke, they did so in hushed voices, as if afraid to disturb something.
Inside Louise's bedchamber.
The girl slowly woke, then sat at her dressing table while the head lady's maid carefully combed out her long, smooth golden hair.
For some reason, an ominous feeling had been weighing on her.
This morning's newspaper had not been delivered with breakfast.
On top of that, Buckingham Palace felt even more oppressive and suffocating than usual today, thick with a heavy atmosphere.
Just then, there was a knock at the door.
"Your Highness."
A maid's voice came from outside.
"Her Majesty the Queen requests your presence."
"I see."
Louise rose from her chair and checked herself one last time in the mirror.
Her makeup was flawless, her hairstyle elegant, and her smile impeccable.
Perfect.
She lifted her skirts and left the bedchamber.
On the way to see her mother, Louise ran into Mycroft.
He bowed his head slightly to her, his face wearing the same immaculate smile as ever. Yet deep in his eyes there flickered an undercurrent of exhaustion and anger he could no longer fully conceal.
"Good morning, Mr. Holmes."
"Good morning, Your Highness."
Mycroft straightened his posture and walked at her side.
"It seems you slept well last night."
"Quite well." Louise gave a gentle smile. "And you? You look a little tired."
"We had to deal with some… unexpected complications." There was a faint, teeth gritted quality to Mycroft's voice.
"Concerning Mr. Moriarty?" Louise asked with feigned innocence.
Mycroft paused for a moment, then turned his head and met the princess's clear, amber eyes. At last, he let out a helpless sigh.
"Yes, Your Highness."
The two of them walked on in silence, and soon arrived at the Queen's study.
Queen Victoria sat behind her large desk, her expression so dark and stormy it seemed almost heavy enough for water to drip from it.
"Mother."
Louise lifted her skirts and executed a proper curtsey.
"Sit down, my child."
The Queen's voice trembled with repressed fury.
Louise obediently took a seat on the sofa beside her, folding her hands in her lap and assuming a perfectly well behaved posture.
"Mycroft." The Queen turned her gaze to the man standing beside her. "Tell us everything you know."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
Mycroft bowed his head slightly, then began a formal, meticulous report.
From last night's ludicrous declaration on Fleet Street, to the media storm that had swept through every major newspaper by this morning, and finally to the theft committed inside Buckingham Palace itself.
"Preliminary investigations show that all the doors and windows in the palace are intact. There are no signs of forced entry or damage."
The guards and servants who had been on patrol had also failed to notice anything unusual.
"In other words…" the Queen's voice grew icy, "that thief slipped into my daughter's room right under our noses and left without making a sound, as if he were some kind of ghost."
"Based on the clues we have so far… yes, Your Majesty." Mycroft nodded with some difficulty.
Hearing this, the Queen's expression grew even more severe.
She turned to Louise and forced herself to speak as gently as she could.
"Louise, tell me what exactly happened last night."
"I… I don't know, Mother." Louise shook her head guiltily. "I was already asleep."
"You've never seen this either?"
As she spoke, the Queen took out a card and showed it to her.
It was the card Russell had left behind before he departed.
"N no… no, I haven't." Louise continued to shake her head. "May I see it, Mother?"
Hearing this, the Queen, suspecting nothing, handed the card over.
Louise reached out to take it, studied it as if examining something unfamiliar, then shook her head again.
"I… I've never seen it before, Mother."
There was a faint hint of fear in her expression, yet she clutched the card tightly in her hand.
"There's no need to be afraid. It's all over now."
The Queen gently drew her into an embrace, softly patting her back.
After a long time spent reassuring her, the Queen finally lifted her head again and looked at Mycroft.
"Where is the snuffbox?" Her Majesty asked once more.
"It has been retrieved from the editor in chief of The Times," Mycroft replied. "But… if I may be frank, it's possible he took that snuffbox on impulse without thinking too much about it."
"You expect me to believe he went to all the trouble of infiltrating Buckingham Palace just to steal a broken music box?"
The Queen narrowed her eyes.
"Is he really that bored?"
…
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