Stop trying to control me, Miss Moriarty!

Chapter 9 The Scandal in Bohemia

221B Baker Street.

The newly added firewood crackled in the fireplace, battling against the bone-chilling dampness of a London rainy day.

"Good day, gentlemen. I came as soon as I received the news!"

The Queen appeared in the room, panting, her usual carefully maintained royal elegance completely gone.

After receiving Charlotte's brief magical message, "Please head to 221B Baker Street as soon as possible," she immediately took a car across most of the block and then ran to the second floor.

"Your Majesty, please have some tea."

Asha served a steaming cup of black tea, which timely eased the subtle tension in the room.

The Queen sat on the same sofa as before, calming her rapid breathing and heartbeat, and smiled as she thanked her: "Thank you, Miss Watson."

She then turned to the detective in the armchair opposite her, her voice urgent yet somewhat uneasy: "Miss Holmes, is there some urgent matter?"

Charlotte's petite body sank into the armchair, one hand twirling an old ivory pipe, her tone flat: "Your request has been fulfilled."

"Oh my god! Really?"

The Queen jumped up from the sofa excitedly and grasped Charlotte's hand tightly:

"Entrusting you with this project was absolutely the right choice. I will remember this kindness on behalf of the Olmstam family!"

"Your Majesty," Charlotte's voice remained calm, "I cannot return the photographs if you are in this state."

"Ah... I'm sorry..." The Queen quickly let go of her hand.

Charlotte took a parchment envelope from her pocket and placed it on the coffee table.

The Queen immediately snatched it away, her fingertips trembling, and carefully pulled out the photograph inside.

When she saw herself crawling on the ground like a dog, completely naked, she breathed a long sigh of relief.

Immediately, a blush of shame rose on her face, and she quickly stuffed the photo back into the envelope, trying to reseal the memory of that absurd period.

At that moment, the Queen let out a soft "hmm," noticing another photograph lying quietly at the bottom of the envelope.

—The photo shows a rare sunny day in London.

The silver-haired boy stood on the balcony of the mansion, casually leaning against the railing, gazing into the distance.

The sunlight poured down on him without reservation, outlining his clear profile. He wore a clean and bright smile, more dazzling than the extravagant sun in the sky.

The Queen paused slightly, then asked, "Where did this photo come from?"

"A gift from Adler," Charlotte stated truthfully.

"...Huh? Adler?" The Queen looked up in confusion, her eyes full of bewilderment. "What happened?"

Do you mind if I smoke?

Please make yourself at home.

"It's a long story." Charlotte skillfully lit her pipe, while the fingertips of her other hand tapped the table erratically.

She exhaled a wisp of smoke: "...Very long."

Then, she began to recount everything that had happened.

Asha looked at her quietly, her expression worried.

In past case reviews, Charlotte always wore an arrogant and condescending smile, like a teacher lecturing her clients.

But this time, she lost that overwhelming confidence.

He would occasionally pause, carefully consider his words, and even mutter to himself in certain details.

In contrast to Asha, the Queen was completely absorbed in the thrilling events and was completely unaware of this subtle incongruity.

"What?! Is Erin alright?"

When Charlotte recounted how Adler, despite his injuries, rushed into the inferno to save her and three maids, the Queen immediately tensed up, leaning forward with concern on her face.

"Erin Adler only suffered minor injuries and is otherwise fine."

"Oh, I see... It's good that he's alright..."

The Queen patted her rather large chest, breathed a sigh of relief, and looked away, as if she were immersed in some distant memory or imagination, looking like a young girl in love.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, Erin Adler's injury is not the main point." Charlotte coughed twice and continued to recount what happened this morning.

Of course, she skipped over the part about being deceived by Erin.

"...That's how it is." Charlotte stopped talking and gently placed the pipe on the coffee table.

"He really is...a good boy," the Queen sighed softly, her blush deepening. "And a remarkable boy, isn't he?"

Her tone was tinged with regret, "If he were to become the king's consort, he certainly wouldn't disappoint... It's just a pity that the gap in our social status is simply too great."

"In my opinion, Your Majesty and Adler are indeed on different levels," Charlotte replied coldly.

"Really? You also think it's a pity?"

The Queen completely missed the sarcasm in her words, and her gaze became even more ardent. "What reward do you want? As long as it's within my power, I will do my best to satisfy you."

"..." Charlotte lowered her eyes slightly, "I have no right to ask for compensation because I failed to fulfill your request satisfactorily."

"Please don't say that!" The Queen gently comforted Charlotte instead. "You've done everything you could, haven't you? And the final result—"

Her gaze returned to the envelope containing the photograph, and a genuine smile spread across her face. "This is even more satisfying than the best I could have imagined."

Looking at the Queen's pure smile, Charlotte fell into deep thought.

From the very beginning, Erin Adler was aware of her identity and purpose.

Under these circumstances, this should have been an unfair and boring game where the prey turned the tables on the hunter.

But why? Adler knew all this, yet he still risked his life to save himself.

She still couldn't understand the logic behind this behavior.

"If you really can't decide," the Queen said understandingly, noticing her hesitation, and took off an emerald serpent ring bearing the coat of arms of the Bohemian royal family from her hand:

"How about this ring? It's quite valuable in itself, and it's also a symbol of royal friendship."

Charlotte's gaze lingered on the magnificent ring for only a moment before she slowly shook her head: "No, Your Majesty, I believe something else is more valuable."

"What is it?"

"That photo."

"Huh?" The Queen instinctively clutched the envelope tightly to her chest, her face filled with anxiety. "Are you...are you conscious? This is absolutely unacceptable!"

"You must have misunderstood. What I want is a photo of Erin Adler."

"Huh? Erin's photo?"

The Queen was stunned. She looked down at the envelope in her arms, then looked in surprise at Charlotte's expressionless face.

"Didn't you say you'd even give me a province of the kingdom?"

"...That's true." There was a hint of reluctance in the Queen's eyes.

She hesitated for a moment, then took Erin's portrait from the envelope, gently placed it next to the dazzling emerald ring, and pushed both items to the opposite side:

"A single photo is hardly enough to express my gratitude. Please accept this ring as well."

"Thank you, Your Majesty." Charlotte finally stood up from her chair and bowed deeply to the Queen.

She then stepped forward, picked up the photo and the ring, and turned to walk directly into her room.

She didn't even glance at the hand the Queen was extending to her.

Asha quickly stepped forward, grasped the hand that was frozen in mid-air, and said helplessly, "I'm so sorry, Your Majesty. Holmes, that's just her...that's just her personality. She didn't mean to offend you. Please forgive her."

"It's alright, Miss Watson." The Queen withdrew her hand and waved it gently. "Geniuses often do things that are hard for ordinary people to understand. I understand."

"Oh, right." Her previous gentleness suddenly vanished, replaced by a warning. "I really admire your serialized work in *Seaside Magazine*; the writing is beautiful and the details are vivid. But regarding this incident..."

"I understand, Your Majesty," Asha immediately grasped the point. "It will never appear in any publication."

"Well then, goodbye, Miss Watson."

"Goodbye, Your Majesty."

.

.

.

"Back to the hotel."

After boarding her waiting carriage, the Queen gave a brief instruction and then leaned wearily against the velvet cushions.

The rain has stopped.

The London street scene outside the car window slowly receded, the rain-washed cobblestone streets reflecting scattered magical lights.

With the crisis resolved, a huge weight was lifted from her heart.

But beyond the relaxation, there's a sense of loss, like being alone in a hall littered with broken dishes after a banquet.

To be honest, although the second prince of Scandinavia was young and handsome, she did not like him.

Ultimately, this was nothing more than a political marriage.

"Erin..." she murmured unconsciously, that name she could never forget.

The carriage gradually came to a stop.

"Did you call me?"

A familiar, smiling voice, one that sent shivers down her spine, came from the front of the carriage.

"...?!"

The Queen sat up abruptly, her heart pounding. Trembling, she reached out and pulled open the small window partition at the front of the carriage.

"You, you are...!!"

Her beautiful golden eyes suddenly widened.

"Your Majesty, it's been a long time."

The coachman took off his ordinary black top hat and tossed it aside, revealing a head of silver hair beneath it that shone like a galaxy.

Compared to three years ago, he has become less naive, and his facial features are more defined.

But those smiling eyes and those slightly upturned lips—remained unchanged.

"Eirin..." the Queen's voice was hoarse.

The unrestrained yet shameful days in Warsaw, mixed with sweet and painful memories, surged uncontrollably, making her heart race and her head spin.

She cleared her throat, trying to make her voice sound authoritative: "You, how did you get here!"

"You rarely have days without guards by your side." Erin tilted her head, looking rather cute for her age.

"An opportunity to speak with you alone is as precious as a sunny day in London. So, I thought perhaps I could create one myself."

He pointed to a shop on the street: "How about this cafe? Don't worry, I've already booked the whole place in advance."

With that, Erin jumped off the carriage, gently opened the carriage door, and stretched out his hand.

His palms were facing upwards, his fingers long and clean.

Ophelia's eyes flickered as she recalled those memories.

—He was the same way back then.

She wanted to push that hand away, leave London, return to Bohemia, and never see him again...

But in the blink of an eye, their fingers were already touching.

Erin gently held Ophelia's hand.

He stepped onto the carriage with his right foot, leaned slightly forward to get close to her, and made intimate gestures like lovers whispering sweet nothings to each other.

That voice carried a heart-stirring tenderness:

"My Majesty, you have never disappointed me."