novelraw Chapter 14 Aftermath
Chapter 14 Aftermath
The Times, September 7
The Second Prince of Scandinavia died of illness.
His Highness Prince Lanto Rodmann von Zaksmeiningen, the Second Prince of the Kingdom of Scandinavia, passed away late last night due to a sudden cardiac event. Prince Lanto was born in Copenhagen and displayed exceptional talent from a young age… (details omitted)
Daily Mail September 7th supplement
Shocking! There's more to the prince's death than meets the eye!
(Omitted above)...According to informed sources, Prince Lanto was known for his immoral conduct, having kept over a dozen slaves at Kaningholm Palace and provided protection for local Stockholm gangs. He may have chosen suicide due to the exposure of his crimes!
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Sunlight pierced through the thin clouds, generously showering the earth, and the water stains remaining on the stone pavement refracted the light into a dazzling halo.
Today is a rare day with beautiful weather. Even in the afternoon, the sky over London remains bright and clear, displaying an unusually blue hue.
"I'm back."
After pushing open the door of 221B Baker Street, Aza instinctively covered her nose.
However, there was no tobacco, no gunpowder, and no chemical reagents...
The air in the room was warm and fresh to an almost unfamiliar degree.
Charlotte sat quietly in her velvet armchair, reading the newspaper in her hand, without even smoking.
Asha had to consider whether her best friend might be possessed by a strange entity.
"Charlotte?" She took off her hat, blinking in confusion. "Are you impersonating Lestrade?"
"...I didn't." Charlotte glared at her, a reaction that reminded Asha of a black cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Her serious tone carried a hint of annoyance: "But here, a heinous crime may be about to occur."
"You received a threatening letter?" Asha immediately tensed up, quickly scanning her surroundings. "Did you notify Lestrade? I've told you before, don't always..."
"...It wasn't me, and there were no threatening letters." Charlotte interrupted her, her tone softening slightly. "You're the one in danger, Asha."
"I?"
Asha quickly recalled her life over the past decade and was certain that she had absolutely no enemies with any dangerous people.
It wasn't until she followed Charlotte's gaze and belatedly noticed the stack of papers on the coffee table, their edges slightly curled up.
Isn't this the manuscript of "A Scandal in Bohemia" that I finished writing overnight?
"You finally noticed."
Charlotte stretched out her long, slender fingers and turned to the first page of the manuscript—
"Since that incident, Charlotte Holmes has only referred to him as 'that man,' and I have never heard her use any other name for him."
She raised her eyes and looked at Asha seriously: "That lewd queen should have told you that this matter must never be written into a novel and published."
Aysa smiled, hung her handbag on the coat rack, and sat down beside her. "Don't worry, Charlotte. I never intended to publish this manuscript; it's just a memorial for posterity."
"A memorial? Is it really necessary?"
"Yes, one of the meanings of human existence is recording. However—" Asha paused, "Isn't the way you address the Queen a little inappropriate?"
"Is there a problem? Didn't you see that photo too?"
"..." Asha guiltily turned her gaze away.
It's all because of the occupational hazard brought on by her part-time job as a writer; yesterday morning, she couldn't suppress her curiosity and took a look at that photo that was enough to influence Europe with Charlotte.
All I can say is that His Majesty does have a great physique, but his private life is somewhat improper...
Charlotte had no intention of continuing the discussion about the Queen's private life, and looked at the second paragraph of the manuscript: "Even if this article is not published, it contains serious errors."
She pointed to the following content—
"In Holmes's view, Adler was better than any other man because he ruthlessly crushed what Holmes considered to be a perfect plan."
"Although Holmes was unwilling to admit it, her first unrequited love had come to nothing."
"You've clearly misunderstood something." Charlotte looked up. "I haven't fallen in love with that man."
Aysa lowered her head to avoid her gaze, put her hands behind her back, and rubbed her toes against the edge of the carpet: "I understand, then let's change it to 'First Failure'."
"Asha".
"Um?"
"I didn't lose." Charlotte's face tightened, her expression becoming even more serious. "That man was afraid of me, which is why he chose to leave."
As she spoke, she shifted her gaze somewhat awkwardly, pretending to look at the pigeons perched on the brass clothes rack outside the window.
Asha examined her closely.
Upon their first meeting, Charlotte declared that all the police in London were hopeless idiots.
Well, except for Lestrade, she's a very powerful idiot.
As if to prove this point, she completed countless cases that had piled up over several months in a single week, and then, as if giving alms, dumped the vast majority of the results on the idiot police officers in England.
Even just a few days ago, she was like Mont Blanc to herself.
—Lofty and distant, it can only be looked up to, and even the light reflected from the mountain on a sunny day is dazzling.
"...So, our duel can only be considered a draw at best. Do you understand now?"
Now, the extraordinary, almost omnipotent Charlotte Holmes, with her cheeks slightly puffed out and her lake-blue eyes shining brightly, was arguing excitedly.
She showed a side of herself that Aysa had never seen before, a side that was both age-appropriate and petite.
Perhaps her puberty came a little late, but it really did?
Should we tell her about that now?
"Okay, okay, I understand, it's a draw." Asha finally gave in, smiling helplessly yet indulgently.
"Hmph—" Charlotte squinted at Aysa.
In retaliation for the previous topic, she spoke again: "Compared to me, you are the one who is truly hopelessly addicted to love."
Asha looked at her, puzzled. "Charlotte, what does this mean?"
"Your acting has improved, Asha, but the details about you give you away." Charlotte reverted to her usual detective demeanor, her tone becoming naturally arrogant:
"If you're just going out for a casual walk or shopping, you don't need to spray perfume on your neck and wrists at all. Besides, there are a few strands of silver hair left on your handbag."
Her gaze shifted downwards, landing on Asha's dusty boot tips: "Finally, your shoes still have reddish-brown mud and grass roots on them, and ink stains on your thumb that haven't been completely washed off. It seems the date took place at Kingspierre Racecourse."
"Moreover, this has happened seven times in the past two months, and even our foolish Inspector Lestrade probably senses something is wrong. As your close friend, I must give you some advice: although you have finally taken a new step and share the same love of horse racing as that gentleman, gambling is ultimately a bad habit."
However, faced with this seemingly conclusive reasoning, Aysa was not embarrassed by being exposed. Instead, she smiled gently, her laughter clear and melodious, full of joy.
"That's surprising, Charlotte." She shook her head. "Even you can have flawed reasoning."
"Isn't it?" Charlotte frowned.
Aysa got up from her chair, walked to the coat rack, took out the notebook she carried with her from her handbag, and showed Charlotte the horse racing tickets inside:
"My reasoning about the racetrack is absolutely correct, but unfortunately, I'm always alone."
"How could that be? If you're just going to watch the horse races, you don't need to wear perfume at all."
Aysa's smile deepened: "Speaking of which, you should also pay more attention to information outside your interests. Three months ago, Colonel Ross, the owner of Kingspierre Racecourse, joined forces with other racecourses to launch a brand-new mixed-breed horse race."
As she spoke, she took out a color photograph from her notebook: "This is Ms. Silverflame, the hottest star in Kingspierre right now."
Charlotte turned her gaze away in confusion.
In the photo, Asha stands smiling brightly in the sunlight. Beside her is a boy or girl with delicate features, making it difficult to discern their gender. Strangely, they have two horse ears amidst their red and white hair, and a ponytail adorns their backs.
"A demi-human race? The Yujun race?" Charlotte muttered to herself.
The diverse subhuman races are new races that appeared in the world along with magic, demons, and so on. Although they have a similar appearance to humans and no reproductive isolation, they have been treated as slaves since their emergence.
This situation only improved a few decades ago when countries around the world abolished slavery, but discrimination still exists widely.
Subhumans perform horse racing to entertain the public...
This was something completely outside her knowledge base.
"That's right." Asha took back the photo and carefully put it away.
Seeing Charlotte display such an expression for the first time during a deduction contest, she felt an uncontrollable surge of joy. "This is the truth. I just wanted to take a picture with Miss Silverflame."
Charlotte was silent for a few seconds, then, unusually, she showed disappointment, curled up in her armchair, and mumbled an "Oh."
"Oh, by the way," Asha put the notebook back into her bag, mentioning it casually, "I passed Victoria Avenue on my way back, and the mansion at number 15 has started reconstruction."
"...Oh." Charlotte replied absentmindedly.
This is just another ordinary transaction in the London property market.
She had no interest in the new owner of the burned-down mansion.
"However, what's interesting is that," Asha picked up the porcelain jar and kettle and made herself a cup of black tea, "the workers say that the young, silver-haired owner is quite generous."
"Oh... um?" Charlotte sat bolt upright. "What do you mean?"
Asha wore a mysterious smile that said, "As expected: Erin Adler did not leave England as he stated in his letter; he has simply moved into the dormitory at the Royal College of Physicians in London for the time being."
"That man!" Charlotte gritted her teeth, her anger at being mocked again, mixed with an even more intense emotion: "Liar!"
She sprang up from her chair and began pacing back and forth in the room.
Like a little girl, her fingers unconsciously twirled the ends of her hair, her lips were tightly pursed, and her eyes were filled with thoughts.
"I must go to the Royal Academy now," she said resolutely, stopping in her tracks.
Then she remembered what had happened before, and a look of regret flashed across her face.
Damn it, I tore up the admission invitation letter that the dean personally delivered last year and even mocked him for being an old-fashioned, conservative person.
The enrollment period for this year has already passed...
Thinking of this, Charlotte bit her finger in frustration. After some hesitation, she took out her communicator and sent a message to one of the names.
"Get me an admission letter from Imperial College London."
"Useless Sister: It's so strange. Just a few days ago, someone was mocking the teachers and students of the Royal Academy as a bunch of idiots who only know how to talk about theory."
Charlotte pursed her lips.
"Stop talking nonsense."
"Useless Sister: This doesn't seem like the proper way to ask for help, my dear Charlotte. At the very least, shouldn't you use some basic polite language? Like, 'Please, sister.'"
Charlotte stared at the message, and despite her reluctance, she sent it anyway.
A sudden, inexplicable sense of relief welled up in Asha's heart.
When there are no cases, Charlotte is always listless and will engage in dangerous alchemical experiments or take magic crystal powder to have some fun, no matter how much you try to dissuade her.
But now, she doesn't have that sense of despondency at all.
It's all because of Erin Adler, the man who made Charlotte burn with passion, the man who gave her her first taste of failure.
At the same time, Aysa was also worried about Charlotte.
If she could, she wouldn't want Charlotte to be interested in Adler; that man was very dangerous.
Although Adler showed an unexpected side in this incident, his scumbag, degenerate, and playboy nature will not change.
Charlotte was overjoyed when she saw the message, but then she noticed Asha's loving yet worried gaze.
A beautiful blush spread across her fair cheeks, but her voice remained as calm as ever: "I went to the Royal Academy not because of that man, but because I have other things to investigate."
Asha's smile widened: "What exactly is it?"
Charlotte looked away, her voice ethereal: "There have been a lot of strange rumors circulating in London lately, and I think the collection in the Royal Academy Library might be helpful in this regard."
Asha didn't press further, instead giving her best friend a cheering gesture: "Go for it, Charlotte."
She always believed in Sherlock Holmes.
Although Charlotte is still immature and now exhibits some of the traits of a timid young girl, there is no doubt that she remains London's, and indeed all of Britain's, top detective.
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Another lavishly decorated room in London.
Charlotte Holmes put down her pen and documents and looked at the text on the screen of her magical communicator.
"Idiot sister: Please, dear sister."
A smile crept onto the face that bore a striking resemblance to Charlotte.
"Erin Adler..." she murmured the name, picking up another document from the table, a detailed report about the owner of the mansion at 15 Victoria Avenue.
Finally, Charlotte's gaze settled on the slightly blurry photo taken secretly. The silver-haired boy walked out of the station with his head down, his profile inscrutable in the dim light of the night.
She then found the report that had just arrived that morning, stating that the second prince of Scandinavia had died of illness.
"To make Charlotte lower her proud head and come to me, her older sister, for help..." Charlotte's deep gray eyes gleamed with keen interest. "What an interesting child."
She quickly began editing the message—
"Your admission letter and related documents will be delivered to 221B Baker Street by a special courier tomorrow. Have a wonderful time at college, my dear sister."
After sending the message, Charlotte glanced at the sky outside the window.
After a brief period of sunshine, London seems to be gathering another round of rain.