230. The First Case
Watson never expected that the name he had chosen for himself would be Yun Ling.
Was it a coincidence? Or...?
"You seem quite surprised. Does this name have any special meaning? Of course, I'm discussing it with you. After all, you're from Shenzhou, and if I accidentally chose a name related to an animal unique to Shenzhou, it would be quite embarrassing."
He said half-jokingly.
"No...no...the name is very good! Sorry...I have something to attend to, I'll be going out for a bit." Watson's face showed a hint of nervousness and confusion.
She immediately rushed out the door and used her communicator to call a certain unscrupulous blond bishop.
"Hey, my old friend, how's it going? Have you found him?"
A slightly playful voice rang out. Clearly, the other party was the High Bishop of Schicksal, Otto Apocalypse.
"You placed him by my side?!" Watson's tone unconsciously became somewhat excited.
Otto was stunned, somewhat bewildered.
"Old friend, I might not understand you. Who did you say? Moriarty?" Otto asked, puzzled.
Moreover, he keenly sensed a hint of emotion in Fu Hua's tone!
This was truly strange; someone could actually evoke such emotional fluctuations in her.
"...It's nothing." Fu Hua abruptly hung up the call, taking two deep breaths.
She preferred to believe that Otto had found someone who resembled him and played a prank on her.
But if that were the case, Otto had no reason to hide it.
Perhaps she had long since become numb; finding Yun Ling had become an obsession.
Find him, and then what?
Fu Hua didn't know how to express her feelings.
Otto stared at the disconnected call, a feeling of doubt beginning to grow within him.
The person who could cause Fu Hua to have emotional fluctuations...
"Investigate Fu Hua's current situation, as well as the people around her and those she has been in contact with," Otto instructed his assistant.
"Yes, Your Excellency."
…
"You seem very anxious. Is it because of that name?" he inquired.
"…No." Watson shook her head, denying it.
Although he could tell Watson was lying, he didn't expose her disguise. After all, living under the same roof, it was best to respect her privacy.
Mainly, it wasn't something worth investigating. To him, it was just a name.
He sat in the armchair, picking up the latest newspaper to see if there were any cases for him to solve.
Although he was a private detective, if he didn't actively seek out cases, he would starve to death on these foggy streets.
Sigh, another day bowing to money.
For several days, he hadn't received a single case, nor seen anything of interest. If this continued, he might have to go out and play the violin on the street to earn some extra money.
Finally, a few more days passed, and Detective Gregson from the Metropolitan Police sent him a telegram, inviting him to investigate a murder case.
Upon receiving the case, he breathed a sigh of relief. He was so poor he couldn't even afford tobacco.
"Thank you, dear Gregson," he thought.
He tidied himself up, pulled his hat over his head, and was about to leave, leaning on his cane, when Watson called out to him.
"You've taken on a case?" Watson asked.
"Yes, thankfully, I don't have to go out and play the violin anymore. This would have been the darkest moment of my life. Perhaps I could focus on describing this emotional turmoil in my autobiography later," he replied.
"I'll go with you," Watson said, adjusting her cuffs, her efficient figure resembling that of a well-trained...bodyguard?
"Hmm…in what capacity?" He hesitated, glancing at Watson, wondering why the other party seemed to be trying to steal his livelihood.
"Your assistant," Watson replied.
"Let's go!"
He tossed his cane aside, a hint of satisfaction on his face. He felt quite content; at least for now, Watson didn't seem to intend to compete with him for this considerable sum.
Of course, as his assistant, he wouldn't mind sharing a portion with Watson.
He wasn't a greedy man, but the amount of money he needed to maintain his hobbies was certainly not small.
The two arrived by carriage at an uninhabited house at No. 3 Lauriston Garden Street. He stopped the carriage about a hundred yards away.
The roads were muddy from the heavy rain the previous day.
Looking at the tire tracks and messy footprints on the road, his brow furrowed slightly, seemingly displeased that these policemen weren't paying attention to their surroundings while investigating.
Watson noticed his expression, but she was currently only an assistant.
Before long, the two arrived at the crime scene on foot.
Gregson's face lit up with obvious delight upon seeing him.
"It's wonderful to have you here. My colleague Lestrade is also handling this case."
"Did you come by carriage?" he inquired.
"No, we came on foot."
Having gotten the answer he wanted, he left Gregson aside and went straight inside.
"I am Mr. Holmes's assistant," Watson introduced herself.
She then followed him into the crime scene.
The crime scene was well preserved; at least the victim and the surrounding environment were untouched.
This caused his tightly furrowed brow to relax slightly.
"How is the victim?" he inquired.
Just as he entered, Lestrade arrived with him. Hearing his question, they answered in unison:
"No external injuries. Initial suspicion is poisoning."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course."
He nodded, brought the body to the victim's lips and smelled them, then bent down and searched the body, finding seven pounds. Finally, he examined the victim's boots.
There were two sets of footprints nearby, along with a considerable amount of blood. Besides that, the only other thing left was the word 'RACHE' written on the wall—German for revenge.
"That's about enough. Take the body to the morgue." He straightened his clothes, which had become slightly disheveled from the movement.
Suddenly, a crisp sound rang out, and a ring fell out.
"Hmm? Oh~ that's about it." He picked up the ring, a knowing glint in his eyes.
"What else was on the killer?"
"Two letters, and a business card he had on him."
"May I see it?" He demanded the potentially crucial evidence without any hesitation. The two inspectors exchanged a glance and handed him two letters.
He merely glanced at them briefly and didn't continue.
"Alright, we roughly know the killer's characteristics."
"The killer is a man, six feet tall, in his prime, tall but with slightly small feet, wearing rough leather square-toed boots."
"The killer and the victim arrived here in the same four-wheeled carriage, pulled by only one horse, one of which appears to have recently had its horseshoe replaced."
"The killer is likely to have a ruddy complexion and slightly long fingernails... These are just my initial speculations. If you want to find more clues, you can start with the newly replaced horseshoe and the coachman."
He told the two inspectors all the information he had deduced.
Seeing the two inspectors' stunned expressions, he seemed completely at ease, as if he had only done something unremarkable.
"Of course, I will continue to investigate other clues. If you cannot find the murderer from these two angles, I will provide you with answers tomorrow. By the way, please tell me the location of the patrol officers last night; I have some specific matters to inquire about."
Watching him and Watson leave, the two inspectors swallowed hard. He had only been here for less than five minutes, yet he had already deduced so much information.
"Watson, you don't seem surprised at all." He sat in the carriage, looking at Watson beside him, expecting to see a look of astonishment on her face.
"I apologize, Mr. Holmes. I am still pondering the reasons behind your conclusions." Watson blinked and replied.
"Between you and me, you can just call me Yun Ling; I like that name." He smiled faintly.
"Yun Ling…" Watson's voice suddenly softened.
"Alright, let me explain. First, when we arrived, we saw cart tracks and hoofprints. We just asked Gregson, and they didn't come by carriage. Since it rained heavily last night, the cart tracks are so clear, indicating they arrived here last night. Also, new horseshoes leave different hoofprints than old ones; new ones are deeper."
"Judging from the footprints, last night two people probably walked in close together. What do you think that suggests?" he suddenly asked Watson.
"If they weren't a couple, then it's highly likely one person was using a weapon to push the other forward," Watson replied.
"That's right, which explains why the other person barely resisted. If a knife is to your neck, it's easy to accidentally cut yourself."
"This also explains why one set of footprints in the house was messy, while the other remained almost stationary, and the person standing still had to take the 'poison.'"
"But there's still a question. If the person standing still knew that taking the 'poison' would be fatal, they would have struggled a little, wouldn't they? After all, that's the human will to survive. So why did they choose to take the poison?"
"A threat?" Watson tilted her head.
"Perhaps, but we don't know much about this guy's connections, so we need to find out more."
"Besides that, there's also height. When people write, their handwriting is usually at eye level, so based on the position of the handwriting and the depth of the footprints, it's easy to determine the killer's height."
"That should only apply to you." A hint of helplessness flashed in Watson's eyes.
"Haha, I've studied this for a long time."
Receiving Watson's praise, his cheeks flushed like a happy child.
"If the deceased had no external injuries, but bloodstains were found at the scene, then those bloodstains could only have come from the murderer."
"The bleeding wasn't heavy, so I can boldly guess it was something like nosebleeds, which explains his rosy complexion. Plus, the deliberately left 'RACHE,' although it's German, Germans usually use Latin, so the imitation is rather clumsy. There's also a slight dent on the wall, probably putty accidentally scraped off by a fingernail."
"That's all I can deduce for now." He shrugged, indicating some helplessness.
"That's already very impressive," Watson acknowledged.
He didn't speak, but simply glanced at Watson quietly, then looked out at the scenery.
…