novelraw Chapter 8 The Scandal in Bohemia
Chapter 8 The Scandal in Bohemia
Water droplets fell continuously along the edges of the brown umbrella's ribs, splashing fine water droplets on the stone pavement.
The brown-haired girl stood in the shadows deep in the street, watching Holmes and Watson walk into the corridor of St. Bartholomew's Hospital.
After confirming that the two pieces had landed precisely in the intended positions, Erin canceled the "Disguise" spell, and their true outlines gradually became clear in the rain.
Anyway, I overloaded the magic circuit last night, so this doesn't matter anymore.
An irrepressible smile crept onto his lips.
So exciting!
When he saw the iconic trench coat and deerstalker hat at the hospital entrance, he truly felt like he was facing "Sherlock Holmes" in person.
It must be admitted that although she looked somewhat young and there was no trace of makeup, she did possess a face that could rival Professor Moriarty's stunning beauty.
They truly are destined rivals.
Although using the original plot to defeat Sherlock Holmes has some suspicion of cheating, there is no doubt that this time it was a complete victory for him!
Furthermore, in order for Charlotte to grow into the complete "Sherlock Holmes" capable of fighting against the apocalypse and Moriarty in the future, this destined defeat is as necessary as the tempering process of a sword.
With the photographs about to arrive at Baker Street, the story of "A Scandal in Bohemia" will come to an end.
He revised the final chapter.
—Instead of hiding the photos, they were returned directly.
After all, unlike Irene, who still lives in Europe in the original story, his destination is the New World, so he doesn't need a photograph as a talisman.
Considering the change in gender, returning the photograph to its rightful owner would put Her Majesty at ease and allow her to abandon the investigation.
"call--"
With the crisis hanging over her head completely gone, Erin breathed a sigh of relief.
Next...
"The alchemical bomb in the study, you planted it, didn't you?"
Memories drift back to last night's hospital room.
The head maid's expression stiffened upon hearing this. She lowered her head, her shoulders trembling slightly: "...That's right. But I..."
"I have no intention of asking you for your reasons." Erin's voice was as cold and hard as a winter night's train tracks. "Please tell the person behind you that I am leaving London immediately and going into hiding. Erin Adler will no longer pose a threat to him."
"...Yes, Lord Adler."
"Don't call me 'sir,' it's disgusting. Have you been pretending for so long that you've even started to believe it yourself? Deep down, you're probably cursing me all the time."
"I...I didn't..."
"That's enough. Get out of here, find someone else."
Recalling this conversation, Erin's expression became somewhat serious again.
He also considered killing the head maid directly, but that would likely provoke the mastermind to take more drastic measures, which was unnecessary.
Ultimately, it's all Erin Adler's fault. Not only did he leave no memory of it, but he also made so many enemies that they could stretch from the Thames to the British Museum, making it impossible to trace them all.
He now sincerely hopes that the head maid's mistress will be sensible and that the two of them can have a longer-lasting relationship.
Once they have amassed enough power in the United States, it will be time to settle the score for assassinating him.
He touched the bankbook and boat ticket in his inner pocket.
Next, it's time to go to the bank to withdraw the severance pay prepared for the maids.
Of course, there was no position for the head maid.
.
Erin sighed softly.
St. Bartholomew's Hospital, the Bank of England, and Adler's House are located in adjacent blocks, within a 15-minute walk.
However, in this brief period, the rain in London became unusually torrential, with raindrops cascading from the eaves almost forming thin lines, and the entire neighborhood was plunged into a pale world.
Just as he was about to step through the gate, a carriage, utterly lacking in gentlemanly manners, sped past, its wheels crushing over a puddle.
Mud and water splashed up suddenly, and even though he reacted quickly, the size of the umbrella was really limited.
The mud soaked through his trousers and shoes, the sticky, damp, and cold sensation making him irritable.
The Red and the Black: Becoming "That Man" for Sherlock Holmes
[Progress: 0% → 15%]
It was a little late, but as expected, the text appeared at the edge of my field of vision.
This system is incredibly rudimentary; it doesn't even have a system of periodic rewards to offer any incentives or motivation.
But it doesn't matter, the system task will only slow him down!
The most urgent thing is to take a nice hot shower, change into dry clothes, and then pack your things.
He pushed open the heavy door.
The once luxurious mansion has been reduced to ruins, with only charred pillars and broken walls remaining.
Occasionally, distorted lightning bolts tearing through the clouds illuminated the ruins, making them resemble the edge of hell, filled with an ominous and oppressive atmosphere.
The house, which could have sold for at least three thousand pounds, is gone just like that.
Thinking of this, Erin felt as if her heart was bleeding.
"Lord Adler! You...you're back!!" A voice trembled with tears.
A maid, who had been huddled under the still intact side building porch, looked out. The moment she saw him, she was like a drowning person grabbing a piece of driftwood. She didn't even bother to grab the umbrella that was right next to her and rushed straight into the downpour.
Erin silently tilted the umbrella in his hand forward, covering her with its brown canopy.
The maid's face was deathly pale, and rainwater streamed down her face along with her tear tracks, making her tremble like withered leaves on an old tree in the courtyard.
"What happened?" Erin asked in a cold tone.
"Ms. Hawthorne...she's passed away..."
Erin was taken aback.
Hawthorne?
Who is this?
The next second, he remembered the head maid who had looked so ashamed last night.
"...Take me there."
Erin followed the maid quickly into the side building.
The entire first-floor lobby was quiet, with only the relentless sound of rain outside the window.
All the maids were gathered here, some standing, some sitting, their faces bearing similar fear and sorrow, like a flock of frightened nightingales.
And the root of everything
—Ms. Hawthorne was lying quietly on the linen that had been temporarily laid out in the center of the hall.
Her eyes were tightly closed, her expression was pained, her skin had an abnormal bluish-white color, and her left hand was clutching her heart tightly.
Although last night's conversation was unpleasant, Erin still felt a sharp sense of unreality when he saw that once vibrant person turn into a corpse.
A dark and indescribable emotion began to grow deep within my heart.
He forced himself to calm down quickly, his gaze sweeping across every face in the room, capturing their subtle expressions and body language.
Who found her? And when exactly?
A petite maid timidly raised her hand and said in a soft voice, "Yes, it's me, sir... Mrs. Hawthorne didn't come for breakfast, and no one answered when I knocked... I... I took the spare key... When I opened the door, I saw her lying on the floor... It was about 7:15."
Clearly, she wasn't lying.
Erin strode forward, knelt on one knee beside the body, and began to examine it:
—The fingernails were a dark purple, there were traces of bleeding on the inner side of the eyelids, and the front of the clothing was covered with shimmering magic crystal dust…
Typical symptoms of acute magic poisoning leading to death.
In this world, magic and magic crystals have replaced electricity, bringing about a tremendous change that is almost a divine blessing.
However, this energy source, which is widely available in every corner of the world, also has its dangers; excessive intake can lead to magic poisoning.
For ordinary people without magical adaptability, the dust of high-purity magic crystals is a deadly poison.
Murder?
This guess instantly popped into my head.
But what about the motivation?
He has clearly expressed his concession and goodwill. Even if the other party believes it is a lie, they have no reason to kill his subordinate, right?
"Lord Adler, there's... there's this too..." Another maid handed over an envelope.
The envelope was of high quality, but like the one he left for Holmes, it had no date, signature, or address.
Erin took it, tore open the seal, and poured out a pale yellow letter.
The letter paper has a delicate texture and excellent quality, with hand-pressed patterns along the edges, making it a truly high-end item.
There were only two lines of almost cold, lifeless text on it—
You made the right choice.
"With the blood of the traitor as proof, I will not pursue this matter."
What is this?
Threat? Warning? Intimidation? Charity?
Erin bit his lip, the bones cracking softly as he clenched his fists. An inexplicable emotion surged within him like a branding iron striking ice, carrying intense steam.
He didn't understand why.
Even though he almost died from the bomb Hawthorne planted, the emotion felt incredibly real.
The air around them seemed to freeze. The maids held their breath, not daring to make a sound, and just watched him quietly.
After an unknown amount of time, Erin slowly loosened his fingers, letting the letter fall to the ground, and then took out a heavy leather bag from his pocket.
He convinced himself that there was no need to grieve for the enemy's death...
"This is severance pay. £100 per person, line up to collect it."
One hundred pounds is a huge sum for maids who earn only one pound and six shillings a week, enough to help them find new jobs.
However, the maids just looked at each other, none of them moving, and a sense of hesitation and unease filled the air.
Finally, someone cautiously asked, "Lord Adler, are you... trying to get rid of us?"
Erin said calmly, "I will be leaving Britain soon; this is a normal termination of our employment relationship."
After a brief silence, an older maid stepped forward, straightening her back: "Then, please allow me to accompany you."
Her action was like the first domino, and the other maids followed suit.
"Please allow me to follow you."
"Me too……"
"Take me with you, sir..."
Why?
Aren't they suffering terribly? Shouldn't they feel hatred, fear, anger, and be eager to escape this cage?
The brass clock on the mantel ticked away, measuring the silence with unhurried pace.
"I'm going to a very far place," Erin finally spoke slowly. "You've all seen Hawthorne's fate. Following me... will be very dangerous. Death can come at any time, in any unpredictable way..."
"It's alright." The first maid interrupted him, her eyes glistening with tears, yet her resolve was unwavering.
"Without you, many of us would have rotted away in brothels or on factory assembly lines long ago. From the day I was taken away from there, I swore... to follow you. I think... everyone here would be the same."
"...?"
No one refuted this.
The fear of death still lingered on their young faces, but there was no confusion in their eyes.
Erin lowered his head, avoiding those trusting gazes.
He felt an unprecedented sense of unease and powerlessness; his heart felt heavy and suffocating, as if it had been thrown into the gloomy, sticky rain outside the window.
He looked at his mud-stained shoes, bent down to pick up the letter, and asked softly, "Where is Ms. Hawthorne's room? I'd like to see it."
"Second floor, third room on the left."
Compared to the former luxurious main house, the rooms in the side building are extremely simply furnished, with only the most basic beds, wardrobes, tables and chairs.
Hawthorne's room was somewhat different, with several potted plants on the windowsill.
They are growing very well, still displaying their lush green leaves and vibrant flowers despite London's perennial rainy weather, showing that their owner takes good care of them.
The room was very tidy, except for small crystal fragments scattered on the desk and floor.
Erin picked up a piece, a faint but distinct residual magic emanating from her fingertips.
— "Magic Overload", "Individual Infection", "Life Perception Triggered"
The engraving technique and style are exactly the same as the alchemical bomb from last night, clearly made by the same person.
He closed his eyes and recreated the scene.
—Hawthorne received a package from her "master." The moment she opened it, the trigger spell inside was activated, and a stream of highly toxic magic flowed into her body, causing her to die in agony.
There was also a crooked leather-covered booklet on the table.
Erin gently opened it; the handwriting inside was neat and careful.
"March 7th, overcast. I entered Adler's mansion without incident. The owner was as handsome as rumored. But thinking about what he had done, my guilt lessened considerably."
It is Hawthorne's diary, filled with his dissatisfaction with Erin Adler.
"March 12th, rain. My master sent a package, asking me to add something to Adler's food. Is it poison?"
"March 25th, rain. I accidentally injured myself while cooking, and Adler actually called a doctor from St. Bartholomew's Hospital, and the cost wasn't deducted from my salary. This is very unreasonable."
"April 15th, rain. An unexpected discovery: Adler was secretly reviewing labor laws and welfare agency reports. What was he planning to do?"
"April 29th, overcast. Late at night, Adler brought back thirty-one young girls. He really is a scumbag."
"April 30th, sunny. Adler instructed me to take good care of them. The girls told me they came from the dirtiest corners of the West End and were rescued by Adler. Have I been wrong about something all this time?"
"May 1st, rain. Adler went to the street and found dozens of workers to start building the side building for everyone to live in."
From this point on, the handwriting in the diary gradually became more sloppy and relaxed.
"May 2nd, sunny. I ate the second packet of powder my master sent. It didn't seem to have anything special about it. I don't know what it is, but I'll just destroy it."
"May 20th, cloudy. Construction of the side building was completed, and when everyone thanked Lord Adler, his expression was quite amusing."
"May 21st, cloudy. Lily made some sweets for Lord Adler, and he smiled gently, so sweetly. It seems like the first time I've ever seen him smile."
"May 22nd, rain. Asked Lily for advice on making desserts."
"May 27th, sunny. Lord Adler praised the desserts I made, but I tasted them myself and they were nowhere near as good as Lily's. Lord Adler is indeed a good boy."
……
"September 1st, cloudy. It's Lord Adler's first day at Imperial College London. I hope he makes friends with people his own age."
"September 4th, cloudy. The master sent another package, which contained a bugging device that I had to install in the study."
"I'm sorry, Adl..."
The handwriting on the last page trembled violently, as if the writer was enduring some immense pain.
She couldn't finish writing those five short English letters.
...Good boy.
Ha...good boy.
Erin's throat was dry, and she gently placed the diary back on the bookshelf.
He stood there for a long time before finally taking out the pale yellow letter, walking to the window, and examining it carefully in the dim light of the day.
The paper has a fine texture, and you can see the interwoven letters like a watermark:
A "P", a "ö" with a participle, an "F", an "Ö", and an "r".
In the late 19th century, high-quality stationery favored by European nobility often bore the manufacturer's logo.
The distinctive "ö" indicates that this is not a product from the UK, but Erin's knowledge of foreign languages is quite limited.
He rolled up his sleeve and lit up the magic communicator; the pale blue light on the crystal screen illuminated his face.
A contact who was forcibly added not long ago lies quietly.
— Moriarty.
Since that meeting in the office, she somehow managed to leave the dedicated communication band in the device.
Erin typed the text and sent it.
"professor."
A few seconds later, the communicator vibrated slightly and transmitted a message.
Moriarty: I'm here.
He sent the letters hidden in the letter's texture along with the request to decipher them.
Time seemed incredibly long and viscous at that moment. A few minutes later, the communicator vibrated again.
"Moriarty: F and ö stand for Företag, which is Swedish for company, similar to the abbreviation Co. P stands for Paper, which is Swedish for paper. As for Ör, wait a minute, I need to check the European Gazetteer."
"Moriarty: Found it, Örnsköldsvik, which means Ensherzvik in Swedish, a small town in West Norland province of Scandinavia, where there is a Finnlin paper mill."
Swedish.
Nsherzvik.
The Kingdom of Scandinavia.
"Ha ha ha ha……"
Erin suddenly laughed, initially in a low voice, then becoming clearer.
Laughter echoed in the empty, simple room, abrupt and cold.
He should have thought of that sooner.
In this ambiguous world, the second Scandinavian prince, who is about to marry her, is the one with the most reason, motivation, ability, and eagerness to eliminate Erin Adler, rather than Her Majesty the Queen.
After all, this marriage could very well determine the ultimate ownership of a crown.
All the scattered clues were connected by this letter from the North, piecing together an incredibly clear truth.
"I really am a naive idiot..."
As the laughter subsided, Erin muttered to himself, a mocking smile playing on his lips.
He reached into his inner pocket and slowly pulled out the beautifully printed ticket, gazing at the voyage and date—characters that had once represented freedom and a new future.
Indeed, no matter when or where, backing down and showing weakness will only result in more intense coercion and sacrifice...
He gripped both ends of the ticket with both hands and, steadily and without hesitation, tore it into pieces.
Paper scraps fell to the ground.
The communicator vibrated again, its eerie light stubbornly flickering.
Moriarty: What's wrong?
Erin had enough confidence in himself.
Even if that prince successfully married the Queen of Bohemia and was crowned king, ruling over two great nations.
But given time, he will still be able to crush his opponent without any doubt.
However, the cold, burning emotion in my chest felt like a poisonous vine coiling around my heart, producing an illusory stinging pain.
He couldn't bear to watch that damned prince stand at the pinnacle of power, comfortably enjoying years, even decades, of flowers and praise.
Erin looked at the communicator.
Crimson eyes were reflected on the crystal screen.
At this moment, he could use the most powerful cheat device in the world if he wanted to.
As for the cost...
He edited the message again, and the characters appeared one by one.
"Professor, I need criminal counseling."
The reply arrived almost instantly after he sent it.
Simple, direct, and long-awaited.
Moriarty: Okay.