Charlotte pushed open the door of 221B Baker Street. Inside, Mrs. Hudson was sitting on the sofa, knitting a scarf while flipping through a fashion magazine and humming a slightly off-key tune.
"Ah, Charlotte, welcome home." Mrs. Hudson set the magazine aside and greeted her with a smile.
"What are you doing?" Charlotte asked.
"Me? I'm knitting a scarf for you, dear." Mrs. Hudson smiled. "It should be ready by tomorrow or the day after, so you won't need to buy one."
Charlotte glanced at the ball of yarn and the fashion magazine on the chair, momentarily at a loss for words.
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."
"You're welcome, darling." Mrs. Hudson shook her head with a smile. "By the way, I baked some cookies. Would you like some?"
"Sure, I'll have a few. It'll help restore my blood sugar." Charlotte didn't refuse.
Mrs. Hudson plated some cookies for her and watched as Charlotte returned to her room. She then sat back down and resumed her knitting.
The ticking of the wall clock echoed softly through the quiet room, a monotonous yet comforting lullaby.
Some time later, as the lingering glow of sunset streamed through the windows, bathing the room in a warm orange hue, the familiar sound of the front door opening finally came from downstairs.
When Russell pushed the door open, the first thing he saw was Mrs. Hudson knitting a scarf in the living room.
"Hello, Mrs. Hudson." He walked over, picked up a cookie, and popped it into his mouth. "Why the sudden urge to knit a scarf today?"
"It's for Charlotte." Mrs. Hudson sighed somewhat helplessly. "Russell."
"Hm?"
"I have a favor to ask." Mrs. Hudson stopped knitting and turned to him. "You said it yourself."
Russell nodded and took another cookie.
"When you have time, please take Charlotte shopping for some proper clothes. Her closet is nothing but bathrobes, and she doesn't even own a decent thick coat. That simply won't do."
"Doesn't she have a trench coat?" Russell asked vaguely.
"Can that even be considered proper clothing?" Mrs. Hudson gave him an exasperated look. "This morning when she left the house, I nearly felt sick. If I hadn't stopped her, she would have gone out in that thin trench coat again."
"So what did you make her wear?" Russell's curiosity was piqued.
"Your clothes." Mrs. Hudson said calmly. "You two are about the same size, so I went to your room and picked something out. It fits her perfectly."
Russell's chewing slowed for a moment.
"Mine?"
"What's wrong? If you mind…"
"No, no objection at all." Russell waved his hand. "I only have a couple of outfits anyway—I'm happy to give them to her. I was just wondering if she went into my room."
"No, I went in myself." Mrs. Hudson looked at him with the eyes of someone who had seen it all. "Don't worry. I understand that teenage boys need a certain amount of privacy."
"In a way… you're right." Russell nodded and breathed a sigh of relief.
I need to find time to hide those things.
This room isn't very safe… I should see if I can turn that great gadget into nano-tech armor for my phantom thief costume.
Wiping his hands, he continued, "I'll take her shopping for clothes one of these days. But I probably won't have time for a while."
"That's fine. Do what you think is best, but do it soon." Mrs. Hudson glanced out the window. "It's been getting colder lately. Before we know it, it'll be Christmas."
"I know." Russell replied, then carried the half-empty plate of cookies upstairs.
Charlotte was still curled up in the large armchair, wearing her usual bathrobe and deeply absorbed in reading the ledgers.
Russell was still in the clothes he had worn all day, showing no intention of changing.
Hearing the door open, Charlotte looked up at him. She noticed his gaze on her outfit and tensed slightly.
"This… Mrs. Hudson told me to wear it first." She explained somewhat awkwardly. "I wanted to go to Fleet Street, but she absolutely refused to let me go out in that trench coat."
"I can understand that." Russell nodded lightly and casually placed the biscuit he was holding on the table. "Wearing that thin trench coat in this awful weather would be unbearable."
"But I never expected Mrs. Hudson to pick out one of my sets for you…"
He paused, his eyes lingering for a moment on Charlotte's slightly oversized black coat and gray sweater before giving his honest assessment.
"Not bad. It suits you well."
"Really?" Charlotte averted her eyes from his face and pretended to focus on the ledger in her hands again. "Your sense of aesthetics was surprisingly good this time."
"You can keep it if you like," Russell said, pulling out a chair and sitting across from her as he picked up a cookie. "Mrs. Hudson asked me to take you shopping for new clothes when I have time. That way you won't have to keep wearing the trench coat all winter."
"We'll see how it goes."
Charlotte continued to avoid giving a clear answer.
The two chatted casually. Russell took the opportunity to tell Charlotte about what he had felt at school that day.
Charlotte then shared the information she had gathered on Fleet Street and the existence of the two ledgers.
"I see," Russell concluded after listening. "So the one who spread that message on Fleet Street was Hannigan's servant?"
"Probably one of the people I called in for questioning at the time." Charlotte said, swinging the ledger in her hand. "Of course, that's not particularly important. This is what really matters."
"Hannigan's ledger."
Russell understood at a glance what it was.
"Mhm." Charlotte nodded lightly. "If we're going to start investigating his personal connections, this list is the most effective starting point."
"So they've been ruled out?"
Charlotte nodded. "Did Mary say when the article would be published?"
"Well, if she goes to The Guardian tomorrow, it should appear the day after."
"Friday," Russell said.
"No need to rush. We still have one more day."
"One day is enough for me to verify everyone listed in the ledger one by one," Charlotte said.
After a brief pause, Charlotte seemed to remember something and added casually, "Oh, right. Once we find the culprit, let's go to The Times together."
"What for?" Russell asked, puzzled. "Are you planning to sell the information to them?"
"They'll have to pay some price if they want us to talk, won't they?" Charlotte shrugged. "The editor-in-chief of The Times made a deal with me."
"What? You're selling the information directly to them?"
"That's just one part of it." Charlotte said. "I also have to participate in an interview."
"Our interview?" Russell frowned. "Are you sure that's okay?"
"Mhm." Charlotte nodded firmly. "Henry Scott himself said so."
…
…
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