"....."
The air seemed to freeze at this moment.
The smile on Mary's face—that touch of expectation, that subtle smugness, and even that brightness akin to a young girl's maidenly affection—cracked inch by inch, like exquisite porcelain fresh from the kiln blasted by a cold wind.
Her azure eyes widened slightly. Her perfect, impeccable expression management turned into a blank slate in this instant.
What is this guy saying?
In this kind of situation, is this what should be said?
Is this... a provocation?
Seeing Mary remain silent for a long time, Russell asked again.
"Is that okay, Miss Morstan? Professor Thompson's class... you know, it's simply too hypnotic."
He scratched his head, putting on the appearance of a model student who studies hard but has limited talent.
Finally, Mary snapped back to reality, looking at Russell, who sat in his seat with sincere eyes.
She took a deep breath. That frozen expression began to flow again, only now, that smile became somewhat... chilling.
It was as if she were speaking while looking at a corpse.
"The notes."
She pulled the topmost book from the stack she had just tidied up, her movements elegant.
"Thank you!" Russell was overjoyed and reached out to take it.
However, just as his fingertips were about to touch the notebook, Mary's fingers loosened slightly.
Thud.
The heavy notebook fell straight to the ground, making a dull sound.
"Ah, sorry," Mary's voice was soft, a smile devoid of any apology on her face.
"My hand slipped."
Russell's movement froze in mid-air.
He slowly lowered his head to look at the notebook lying quietly on the floor, then raised his head to look at the young girl before him, who was smiling like a saint.
[Mary Morstan feels provoked and dissatisfied by your unromantic behavior, so she attempts to make things difficult for you. Malice Points +10]
Look, getting worked up again.
Russell grumbled inwardly, but he dared not show the slightest sign of it on his face.
"It doesn't matter, I'll pick it up myself."
He revealed a magnanimous smile and bent down, preparing to pick up the notes that were crucial for his credits.
Mary quietly watched him pick up the notebook, pat off the dust, and very preciously place it into his own bag.
Tch.
So annoying.
If not for the constraints of her identity and status, she would certainly have intensified her efforts to make things difficult for him right now. For instance, stepping on the notebook with her foot and making Russell beg her to lift her noble foot or something similar.
[Mary Morstan feels an intense displeasure toward you. Malice Points +20]
"Since you've borrowed the notes," Mary took a deep breath, forcibly making her expression management return to normal, though her voice still carried a hint of gritting teeth.
"Then, I won't disturb Mr. Watson's pre-class studies."
After saying this, she turned and walked away.
Her leather boots stepped on the floor, making crisp and rapid clack-clack sounds, as if venting their owner's dissatisfaction.
"Wait—"
Russell's voice rang out behind her again, forcing Mary to stop her footsteps once more.
"What? You want other notes too?"
Mary turned her head, looking at him with ill grace.
"No... I just wanted to say, regarding Saturday night. After I finish my work, if I can make it in time, I will go," Russell said.
"Although... I don't know if I can make it, but anyway, I'll try my best. I don't like making promises I can't be sure of, so... this is the best answer I can give."
Hearing these words, Mary's originally tense back visibly relaxed.
She turned around, those ice-blue eyes refocusing on Russell's face.
The gaze that was like a Siberian cold current just a few seconds ago now seemed like a spring lake with melting ice and snow, rippling with a faint, barely discernible shimmer.
"Is that so."
She responded faintly. No fluctuation could be heard in her voice, but Russell still detected a hint of joy that wasn't easily discovered.
"Don't get your hopes up too high," Russell felt it necessary to give her a preemptive warning. "I might really be late, or even not go at all."
"I understand."
Mary nodded and didn't say anything more.
She simply looked deeply at Russell with those azure eyes, as if she wanted to carve his currently feigned sincere appearance into her mind.
Then, she truly turned around and left the lecture hall with elegant and steady steps.
This time, the sound of her leather boots was no longer urgent, but had returned to its usual composure.
Russell watched her figure disappear at the door and let out a long sigh of relief.
"Women are truly troublesome."
He muttered in a low voice, stuffed the borrowed notes into his bag, and prepared to leave as well.
·
·
Returning to 221B Baker Street, Russell pushed open the door to Charlotte's room with practiced familiarity.
A strong smell of chemical reagents mixed with the scent of rosin hit him in the face, nearly sending him to the afterlife.
The chaotic state of the room didn't seem to have improved at all due to the resolution of the case; instead, it had a tendency to worsen.
Scattered on the floor were several music scores, a few empty test tubes, and an open toxicology book.
As for the owner of the room, Charlotte Holmes, she was currently almost draped over the armchair, her legs crossed and resting on the coffee table.
She held a violin in her hand and was plucking the strings with the bow in sheer boredom.
That sound was less music and more noise.
"I thought that with the case solved, you would let this poor Stradivarius off the hook."
Russell walked in pinching his nose, a look of disgust on his face.
Hearing his voice, Charlotte didn't even bother to lift her eyelids, simply saying faintly, "Boredom is the greatest enemy of human intelligence, Watson. One case has ended, and another hasn't arrived yet. I have to find something to do."
"That doesn't mean you can abuse the instrument," Russell said righteously. "If it could speak, it would definitely be accusing you of your atrocities right now."
Charlotte finally deigned to move her gaze from the non-existent stain on the ceiling, glancing at him with her grey-blue eyes.
"It is already speaking, in a language only those lacking imagination cannot understand."
"..."
Russell decided not to debate with this woman on a philosophical level.
"So, can you pay a little attention to your... posture?"
"Why?" Charlotte raised an eyebrow, her gaze turning to Russell. "This is my room, my private space. Can I not even decide what posture to use when sitting in a chair?"
"No, I just... forget it, as long as you're happy."
Russell shrugged, placed the sandwich he had conveniently packed from school onto the only relatively clean corner of the table, and then pulled over a chair to sit down.
Next, he took out that invitation card.
"Here, this is for you."
Charlotte took the invitation and scanned it quickly.
"Icebreaker Party? A boring social game. A bunch of hormone-fueled young people gathering together, exchanging hypocritical compliments and cheap information. If one must find something real in there, it would only be those people's misplaced hormones."
As she spoke, she disdainfully threw it into the pile of clutter.
"I have no interest."
"But Mr. Timmy Roy specifically exhorted me, saying Mr. Mycroft also hopes you will participate more in social activities."
Russell deliberately brought up her brother's name.
Sure enough, hearing Mycroft, Charlotte's brow furrowed.
"Then I have even less interest."
She said coldly.
"You go yourself."
"Regrettably, I was not invited."
Russell shrugged.
"So I said, this is an invitation for you, not for me."
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