Charlotte suddenly realized that, at some point, she had changed.
Her interest in so-called evidence or outcomes had, at least in some sense, begun to fade.
For example, take now.
She had even come to hold a kind of self-soothing belief: "If there's no evidence, it can't be proven."
It would be better to go on living without knowing the truth.
"Charlotte?"
Russell's voice pulled her back to reality.
Hearing this, Charlotte unconsciously raised her face and noticed Russell looking at her with slightly worried eyes.
"What are you thinking about?"
He asked, "You don't look well."
Hearing this, Charlotte paused for a moment before shaking her head.
"It's nothing," she said. "I was just thinking about something."
"About Charles Brown?"
"Mm."
Charlotte gave a light nod.
"Don't think about it."
Russell said, "There's no point thinking about it now. You'll know when we get there.
Since Charles Brown is the only one left, the most important thing is to have Lestrade keep him under strict surveillance.
If he dies, everything will have been for nothing."
He paused before adding, "More importantly, have you found any leads on the assassin the Professor arranged to kill Billson?"
Hearing this, Charlotte shook her head.
"No."
She said, though her voice carried a trace of fatigue and helplessness.
"Inspector Lestrade has already sent investigators, but as you know, in that kind of situation, it's difficult to get a clear picture of things."
Russell wasn't surprised by this answer.
It was exactly as she said.
A pitch-black environment, a fleeting figure, and terrifyingly accurate marksmanship——almost no truly effective leads had been left behind.
"Should we start with the bullet?"
Russell asked again.
"Lestrade has already considered that."
Charlotte said.
"Remove the bullet, compare the caliber and type to identify the specific model of the pistol, then further investigate the owner of that pistol——that's what he's thinking, right?"
Russell nodded.
"But if that person was that professional, have you ever wondered why he kept the murder weapon after completing the mission?"
Charlotte asked.
"Furthermore, even if he still possessed that pistol, its origin was clearly illegal, and there probably wouldn't be any records left that someone could investigate."
She said this and sighed.
"In other words, it was still a dead end, but Lestrade went ahead and did it anyway."
"Why?"
"You can't just do nothing, right?"
Charlotte shrugged. "At least this way, when he gets his salary, he'll feel a little better."
Hearing this answer, Russell couldn't help but chuckle.
"I'm relieved to hear your mouth hasn't changed."
He let out a sigh of relief.
Hearing this, Charlotte, who was sitting across from him, furrowed her brows.
"You want to drink tea at Buckingham Palace, don't you?"
"Um… it was a joke."
Russell raised both hands in surrender.
Dinner ended in a calm atmosphere.
Mrs. Hudson volunteered to do the dishes and sent Russell and Charlotte to the living room.
The two glanced at the elderly woman's enthusiastic retreating figure, then looked at each other again.
Russell then stood up and walked to the coffee table beside him.
"I'll make some tea."
Just as he picked up the teapot to boil water, Charlotte's voice suddenly came from behind him.
"Stop making tea, Watson. I don't want any."
Hearing this, Charlotte paused for a moment, then set down the teacup and turned to face Charlotte.
"What would you like to drink? Coffee?"
"No, I don't want anything."
Charlotte shook her head and stood up, walking toward the door.
"I want to go for a walk."
Russell stood there stunned.
"What's wrong?"
Charlotte noticed he wasn't following and turned around to look at him curiously.
"You don't want to go out?"
"No…" Russell began in a complicated tone. "You really want to go out?
"You're not Charlotte——who the hell are you? Stay away from her right now."
"Why can't I go out?"
Charlotte countered with a question.
"I stayed home sleeping all day today. Is there a problem with going out for some fresh air?"
As she said this, she was already standing at the door.
Seeing this, Russell said nothing and quietly picked up his coat.
"I'm going out for a short walk. I'll be back soon, Mrs. Hudson."
He called toward the kitchen. After receiving a reply, he went outside with Charlotte.
The winter night air in London was clear, carrying a faint scent of coal smoke.
The streetlights on Baker Street were already lit, casting dim yellow light in patches across the cobblestones.
From time to time, a carriage passed in the distance, its wheels making rhythmic sounds on the road before disappearing into the darkness of the night.
The two walked side by side. Charlotte wore a thick black coat with both hands in her pockets.
She walked slowly. Not because she was tired, but simply because she was walking leisurely without any particular purpose.
Charlotte walked beside Russell, her gaze fixed on the road ahead, occasionally looking up at the sky or turning her face to glance at the shop windows along the street.
Russell matched her rhythm and walked at a leisurely pace.
There was no conversation and no destination, as though they simply wanted to take a walk.
Finally, they arrived at a bridge.
The Thames River flowed quietly beneath their feet, its surface reflecting the dim lights from both banks like a black ribbon studded with stars.
Charlotte stopped, walked to the bridge, placed both hands on the cold stone railing, and gazed blankly at the river.
Russell walked over to her, imitated her, and placed his hands on the railing as well.
"What are you thinking about?"
He asked.
"Nothing."
Charlotte shook her head, but her gaze remained fixed on the river.
"I felt that London nights are very quiet."
"That's only because we're standing here."
Russell chuckled. "If you went to Southwark or the East End, you wouldn't think that."
Charlotte didn't argue.
The two stood there quietly, gazing at the river, listening to the sound of the wind, and feeling the city breathing under the night sky.
It was unclear how much time had passed, but Charlotte suddenly spoke.
"Russell."
"Hm?"
Russell turned his face. "What is it?"
Charlotte continued staring at the river, but her attention seemed to have drifted from the flowing water.
She asked, "Do you lie to me?"
Russell was slightly taken aback.
What does that mean?
Why had he been encountering such difficult questions these past few days?
After thinking for a moment, Russell slowly answered, "Yes."
He said, "This is something that has already happened, so it's meaningless for you to ask this question."
"Then let's ask a more meaningful question."
Charlotte straightened up, stretched, and then turned to face him.
"Do you plan to lie to me in the future?"
…