Russell leaped out the window and lightly landed on the roof.
He quietly walked along the eaves toward Charlotte's window.
Before starting work, he had to confirm that Charlotte was asleep.
Charlotte's bedroom window wasn't fully closed, so Russell, leaning against it, could faintly hear even her breathing.
She looks like she's sleeping.
Thinking this, he finally cast aside his hesitation and disappeared into the darkness of Baker Street at night.
Russell wandered aimlessly through London.
The grappling hook left trails in the darkness, swiftly carrying his body through the air before landing again.
He still hadn't decided on his target for tonight.
He had come out because he couldn't sleep and wanted to cause trouble for someone, but once he was actually outside, he didn't know where to go next.
He wandered aimlessly and before he knew it, he was in the Kennington district.
When Russell stood on a high point overlooking Albert Square, he suddenly noticed something.
If his memory served him correctly, Lestrade lived around here, right?
Ah, this is bad. Things have come to this!
Since he had come all this way, it would be rude not to say hello.
Thinking this, a satisfied smile appeared at the corners of Russell's mouth beneath the mask.
As Russell glided lightly over Albert Square, the grappling hook drew an elegant arc and finally landed on the roof of an unremarkable apartment building.
Albert Place No. 7——that was Lestrade's address.
The apartment wasn't particularly luxurious, but considering its location, it was a respectable building, fitting for Lestrade's position.
"Scotland Yard's salary must be pretty good."
He muttered to himself and walked to the edge of the roof, hooking his foot on the edge and hanging upside down.
Through the window, he could see that it was pitch black inside.
Lestrade seemed to still be asleep.
"Then that won't do."
Russell said quietly.
"You can sleep that well at your age."
He released his foot from the eaves, performed a light somersault in mid-air, and landed silently on the windowsill of Lestrade's residence.
The window wasn't locked.
That was normal.
Setting aside the fact that this was the second floor, what kind of bold thief would try to break into the home of Scotland Yard's inspector?
Russell smiled quietly, pressed his fingers against the window frame, slowly opened it a little, then pulled the window upward and slipped inside.
The room was dark, with only faint moonlight seeping through the curtains as a light source.
Lestrade was lying on his side with his back to the window, breathing regularly and deeply. His shoulders rose and fell slightly with each breath.
He was sleeping soundly, letting out regular groans like a slow-moving old steam locomotive.
Russell walked around the room, looking at the decorations.
There was nothing particularly unusual or strange in the house. The desk was piled high with documents and files, and several wine bottles were placed on a nearby shelf.
Russell could imagine Lestrade being made to do odd jobs by Charlotte with just a glance at that desk.
It was heartbreaking.
He sat down at Lestrade's desk, casually picked up a file, and began flipping through it as though no one else was around.
Most of the documents on the table were information related to Billson, with very few about other cases.
He casually flipped through the pages, glancing over names as though searching for a worthwhile target.
It was unclear how much time had passed, but the old steam locomotive on the bed seemed to have stopped moving.
Lestrade had turned over. A rustling sound came from beside him, and he frowned.
He groggily opened his eyes and stared at the dark room for a while before finally noticing that there was a person in front of his desk who shouldn't have been there.
The person had their back to him, sitting quietly in the chair, holding a file that hadn't been organized yet, and slowly flipping through the pages.
Dressed entirely in black——a black silk hat, a black trench coat——and exuding an inexplicably irritating aura...
Lestrade's mind went completely blank for an instant.
He wondered if he wasn't fully awake yet.
So he rubbed his eyes and looked again.
The person remained seated and had even changed posture with interest, as though about to turn toward him.
"Ah, you're finally awake, Inspector Lestrade?"
The phantom thief's voice rang out in a light, calm tone, breaking the deathly silence of the room.
"You're sleeping really soundly. Looks like that detective made you work quite a bit of overtime?"
"M… Moriarty?!"
At this moment, Lestrade's mind completely cleared, and even his voice changed slightly.
Seeing the uninvited guest sitting leisurely in the chair, he unconsciously reached for the pistol hidden under his pillow.
The cold metallic sensation under the pillow gave him a sense of security, but after pulling out the gun, Lestrade didn't immediately point it at Russell.
"What are you doing here?"
He asked while gripping the gun, looking somewhat tense.
"Is it wrong to visit an old friend?"
Russell set down the documents in his hand and asked with a smile.
"Who said you were my old friend?!"
Lestrade couldn't help but retort. "What did you steal?"
"Is there anything here worth stealing?"
Russell casually countered with a question.
Hearing this, Lestrade was surprised and then unconsciously recalled what he had heard.
It seemed… there actually wasn't anything.
His record might not be completely spotless, but it could definitely be called honest and upright.
Thinking this way, Lestrade felt a little relieved.
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Hmm… looking for something to do?"
Russell said.
"Then what are you doing here?"
Lestrade couldn't help but ask.
"Didn't I say I came to visit an old friend?"
Russell said.
"After disappearing for so long, the first thing I did when I came back was come looking for you.
So, are you happy? Are you moved?
Lestrade was momentarily at a loss for words.
"What exactly are you planning to do?"
There was a hint of helplessness in his tone.
"As you can see, I'm a bit bored right now."
Russell shrugged.
"If you're bored, why don't you go back to your old profession?"
"I was planning to, but the problem is there are too many people in London… I can't quite make up my mind."
Russell said.
"So it might be better to add something more impressive to my resume, don't you think?"
After a brief silence, Lestrade finally understood what he meant.
This man had stayed up all night, broken into Scotland Yard's inspector's house through the window, and delivered a performance bonus?
This was far more outrageous than Charlotte telling him to rest.
"Are you serious?"
Lestrade's voice contained 70% doubt about the situation and 30% confusion.
"Do I look like I'm joking?"
Russell shrugged and pointed at the pile of documents on the table.
"These are all old cases you've been stuck with for a while, right? Some of them have probably passed the statute of limitations for prosecution."
Lestrade looked in the direction he was pointing and indeed saw some of the most troublesome problems that had been bothering him.
Sometimes there wasn't enough evidence, sometimes the suspect's whereabouts were unknown.
There were also cases that had too wide an impact to touch lightly.
They clung stubbornly to Scotland Yard's record archives like psoriasis spots, constantly reminding him of his incompetence as an inspector.
There might be minor flaws in his record compared to his overall achievements, but it couldn't be said that he was completely indifferent to them.
Lestrade hesitated for a moment, thought about it, then looked at Russell again and swallowed.
"What do you want?"
He asked as though he were about to make a deal with the devil.
"Hmm… what do I want?"
Russell raised one eyebrow. "That's a good question."
He didn't open his mouth immediately, as though considering what kind of reward to ask for.
Lestrade waited quietly, but his heart was pounding violently.
In the end, all he heard was the sarcastic man sitting across from him saying in an irritated tone:
"Just consider it a favor Scotland Yard owes me, how about that?"
"A favor…" Lestrade repeated.
Returning a favor was the hardest thing. He would rather this man had wanted something completely different.
Whether it was money or anything else.
"Honestly, I don't understand you at all."
He sighed and casually reached to the side, taking out a cigarette, lighting it, and putting it in his mouth.
"So what's the answer?"
Russell asked with a smile.
Lestrade stared at him for a while, then slowly exhaled smoke.
"Stand up."
He said.
Give me back my seat.
…