Russell stayed sprawled on the desk, but he'd stretched his ears to the limit—alert, on edge, every nerve cell on full combat readiness.
After Mary asked her question, Charlotte thought for a moment before answering:
"To satisfy his nowhere-to-put-it performance addiction."
Same answer as always.
"But it shouldn't be only that, right?" Mary pressed.
From Mary's perspective, Charlotte already knew about the connection between Moriarty and Mycroft—so Charlotte's reply was simply a layer of camouflage, meant to distance herself.
And shifting the topic onto Moriarty helped protect her own identity, too.
This one's thinking on the third floor.
"In the past, Moriarty wasn't incapable of big moves," Mary continued, watching Charlotte's eyes. "But this time he specifically wrote a notice—warmed it up for an entire week."
Her voice slowed, deliberate.
"Is it really just for the performance?"
"I'm not interested in what he wants to do," Charlotte said evenly. "Compared to wasting effort trying to rationalize the motives of a thief whose style is fundamentally illogical, I'd rather spend my limited energy on things that actually matter."
Yes. Perfect.
Russell silently applauded her in his heart.
"But the Professor line isn't producing new leads anytime soon," Mary said with a gentle smile. "Why not shift your attention for now?
"You probably aren't interested in the rest of today's lecture either. Sometimes looking at a problem from a different angle produces new discoveries."
No, no, no. Absolutely not.
Russell frowned.
Why are you so obsessed with your damn Moriarty?
Charlotte considered for a moment, then said lazily, "Maybe it's to divert attention."
"Divert attention?" Mary lifted a brow. "Moriarty's?"
"Mm-hm." Charlotte nodded slightly.
"Divert whose attention?" Mary asked, clearly intrigued.
Charlotte didn't answer directly—she started reasoning.
"Based on Moriarty's previous targets, he mainly strikes wealthy collectors or businessmen."
"Those people live in luxurious districts. Their homes have decent security. But to him, none of that matters. For a thief who can pick locks, move fast, sneak, and disguise himself—those places are basically unguarded wilderness."
"He got into Lloyd's Bank. A few Kensington mansions are nothing."
"So if he's only going after his usual targets, there's no need for all this theater," Mary followed smoothly.
"Which suggests the notice is smoke," she went on, "a decoy that plants a 'default target' in everyone's minds—so they overlook the real one?"
"Talking to you is easier than talking to certain people," Charlotte said noncommittally, flicking a glance at Russell.
Russell Watson did not move an inch.
"Then what do you think his real target is?" Mary asked, following the thread—and also glancing at Russell.
"That brings us back to the beginning," Charlotte said. "Trying to find meaning in what an illogical thief does is, in itself, meaningless."
"The only thing we can be sure of is that his true target must be important—and probably symbolic."
"Like the Queen's crown?" Mary offered.
"Vulgar," Charlotte rejected instantly.
"Then what?" Mary poked Russell's arm. "Stop pretending to sleep."
Russell lifted his head unwillingly, looked at Charlotte, then Mary, and under their stares, tossed out a guess:
"The Rosetta Stone in the British Museum?"
"Possible," Charlotte said, still shaking her head. "But not heavy enough."
"And it's 1.14 meters tall and 0.73 meters wide. The base has pressure sensors. How does he carry it off without a trace—and return it without a trace?"
"Then I'm out of ideas. I'm not Moriarty." Russell shrugged and flopped back down.
"If you were, this would be much easier," Charlotte remarked.
"But Mary did remind me of one possibility."
"Oh? You've come around to the Queen's crown?"
"No. I mean his target." Charlotte's tone sharpened slightly.
Mary frowned. "You mean Buckingham Palace?"
"Mm." Charlotte nodded.
"If you want a location in London that's big enough, secured enough, and symbolic enough… there's only one."
Russell's eyes went wide.
You're serious?!
"If it's Buckingham Palace…" Mary murmured, thinking, "that actually fits."
"Logically, it's the most reasonable inference," Charlotte said. "He needs a stage big enough for his one-man show, and a target weighty enough to match his ridiculous notice."
"Then what's the point?" Russell couldn't help asking. "What's inside Buckingham Palace that's worth stealing? Don't tell me it really is the crown."
"Who knows," Charlotte said. "Maybe it's just to prove something."
"Prove what?"
"That there's nowhere in this world he can't go."
"That does sound like something Moriarty would do," Mary said, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
"Then what would his target be?" Mary wondered. "Royal scandal? Jewels?"
"Don't know. Don't care to think," Charlotte said. "What he steals doesn't matter. What matters is that he proves to the citizens of London that he infiltrated Buckingham Palace.
"That's the goal. Theft is just a side dish.
"It's all harmless pranks anyway, which is why I can't be bothered. Even if he steals an ashtray, I wouldn't find it strange."
Mary fell quiet for a moment, then asked, "Are you going to tell Mycroft about this guess?"
"Normally, it's only ever Mycroft who comes looking for me," Charlotte said. "I can't be bothered to go to him."
Russell was just starting to breathe again when Charlotte's tone shifted.
"But this time can be an exception."
"Why?" Russell blurted.
"He annoyed me," Charlotte said matter-of-factly. "So I can annoy him back."
....
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