Charlotte's gaze lingered on the "Family" column.
"No wife, no children, no living relatives—but an extremely colorful romantic history."
"That's how it goes," Russell said with a shrug. "All surface charm, zero emotional depth. His looks and status make him popular."
"Lestrade wouldn't just hand over every one of his lovers to you, would he?"
"Nope."
Charlotte didn't argue. "You really think he'd know what to filter and what to keep? I'll have to do it all myself."
"Splendid. Keep up the excellent police work, Detective."
Russell set his cup down and stood, heading for the stairs.
"I have to get ready to go out."
"I already know that without you telling me."
Charlotte didn't even look up.
Russell shrugged, changed in his room, and left Baker Street.
…
Faidon Tearoom
Russell pushed open the heavy glass door. Warm air and soft piano music washed over him. He gave his name and was soon escorted by a tuxedoed waiter to the familiar private room on the second floor.
Mary had already arrived.
Today she wore a soft beige dress trimmed with delicate lace, looking even gentler than usual. Her long silver hair was styled into a neat side ponytail, a few strands brushing her cheek as she moved. She rested her chin on one hand, gazing out at the gray sky where snowflakes drifted down, lost in thought.
"Sorry I'm late."
Russell sat across from her.
"No," Mary said, snapping out of her reverie with a gentle smile. "I just got here myself."
The waiter soon returned with a three-tiered pastry stand and a fragrant pot of tea—exactly the same elegant selection as last time, artfully arranged on white porcelain.
Russell noticed something missing.
"I remember you don't care for very sweet things."
Mary poured him a cup of hot tea.
"So I told the kitchen to reduce the sweetness and leave out the macarons this time."
"How thoughtful. Anyone who didn't know would think you were treating me again."
Russell took a sip, savoring the perfect balance of robust tea and silky milk.
"Just so we're clear—I didn't bring any money today."
Mary blinked. "If you're broke, we might have to stay and work as waiters."
"That's perfect! Free afternoon tea and a job opportunity at Faidon Tearoom."
His witty reply made Mary laugh—a soft, bell-like sound. Her crescent-shaped blue eyes sparkled like spring sunlight.
"Then you'd better work hard," she teased. "This tearoom doesn't hire waiters who only know how to talk."
"My skills are still top-notch," Russell said, picking up a scone and spreading jam. "I'm excellent at brewing tea, wiping tables, and sweeping floors."
"I can tell," Mary said with a mysterious smile. "After all, you're Charlotte's assistant."
She deliberately emphasized the word "assistant," but Russell didn't notice.
"Anyone who can keep Charlotte happy succeeds at anything."
He took a bite. "Mmm, delicious."
"How does it compare to what you make at home?"
"I don't usually bake. That's Mrs. Hudson's territory. I already stole breakfast duty from her—if I took away her little joys too, she'd never forgive me."
"Your life at Baker Street sounds fascinating."
Mary hid her smile behind her teacup.
"Ever since Charlotte moved in, it definitely has been."
Russell kept his answer vague.
"You never know whether you'll walk into steaming afternoon tea or a chemical experiment that could level the whole street."
"Is Charlotte still doing that research?"
A flicker of curiosity crossed Mary's eyes.
"Yeah," Russell sighed. "But it's much calmer lately. She must have found a new toy."
He smoothly steered the conversation to the Hannigan case. Mary listened quietly, nodding occasionally, a faint smile always playing in her blue eyes.
"Is Charlotte still working on that list?"
She took a small bite of strawberry tart.
"Mm-hm. She thinks Bilson might still have his own connections. After all, the Professor hasn't been active that long. In London's underworld, Bilson's name is far more famous than the mysterious mastermind pulling the strings. He could be hiding in a safe house provided by an old colleague."
Mary raised an eyebrow, thoughtful.
"That makes sense. Any progress on his movements?"
"Not yet. Lestrade only sent the social network files this morning. Charlotte's still going through them. But knowing her, we'll have answers soon."
"Looks like today's afternoon tea will be all about the case again."
Mary set down her tart with a deliberately dramatic sigh, though her eyes betrayed her amusement.
"Sorry. Bad habit."
Russell realized he'd derailed the conversation once more.
"If you'd rather talk about something else…"
"For example?"
"Whatever you like."
He turned the question back to her.
Mary looked surprised.
"I… don't really have anything special to say."
"How is that possible? What do you usually do when you're not in class? When you're at home, for instance?"
Mary's expression grew distant.
…