After finishing his report to Mrs. Hudson that he was safe, Russell returned to the corridor outside the emergency room. Mary was still sitting on the same bench.
When she saw him coming back, she stood up abruptly. Because she had risen too quickly, she staggered slightly.
"Russell…" Mary clung tightly to him as though grasping at straws.
"Did you speak with Mrs. Hudson on the phone?"
"Mm."
Russell walked over to Mary, naturally draped his arm around her shoulder, and gently pushed her back into the chair.
She said not to worry too much and to just get through tonight first.
Hearing Russell's answer, Mary nodded, then nestled into his arms.
"Rest for a bit. I'll stay with you."
Russell lightly patted her shoulder.
Mary nodded and leaned against Russell's shoulder. She slowly closed her eyes, and her breathing gradually calmed down.
Perhaps the intimate space of the theater had completely drained her energy, or perhaps the immense gap between extreme fear and ecstasy had been too much for her.
After confirming that Arthur Morstan could no longer speak, Mary's tension had gradually eased.
Even though the final trial remained, the girl's body could no longer hold on.
Russell took off his coat and gently draped it over Mary, then softly patted her shoulder.
At the end of the corridor, Lestrade returned after finishing his cigarette.
He carried the cold air and the smell of tobacco with him. When he saw Mary sleeping with her head on Russell's shoulder, he instinctively slowed his steps.
"She's asleep?"
He asked in a lowered voice.
"Mm."
Russell gave a slight nod. "She fell asleep. Let's let her rest for a while. Tonight's events were too much of a shock for her."
"Yeah, you're right…" Lestrade sighed and sat down across from Russell, rubbing his slightly cold hands together.
"She's still so young, yet she's already gone through something like this. It's a miracle she didn't have a mental breakdown."
He paused for a moment, then lowered his voice and continued, "The situation at the mansion… has basically been confirmed as an accident."
"Why?"
Russell's eyes shifted slightly.
"According to the on-site investigation, the fire was indeed caused by the fireplace in the study."
"A piece of coal fell out and ignited the carpet. The fire spread to the nearby curtains and bookshelves.
There were large amounts of paper documents in the room, as well as a large quantity of wine that served as an excellent accelerant."
Lestrade said.
"Based solely on the scene, it could indeed be called an accident. But the problem lies with Arthur Morstan."
"According to the maid who first rushed over to rescue him, when they found him, he was lying quietly on the sofa, wrapped in the blanket he used to keep warm."
If the fire hadn't spread to his body, he would have looked like he was sleeping soundly.
Lestrade glanced suspiciously toward the emergency room as he spoke.
"Could it be because he had been drinking?"
Russell offered a reasonable guess at that point.
"There's a lot of alcohol there, right?"
"Yeah, whiskey, gin, bourbon, brandy… pretty much everything."
Lestrade shrugged.
"He was clearly a wine lover, but according to the Morstan family butler, while Mr. Morstan did have the habit of drinking in the study, he was always tolerant of alcohol and rarely got drunk."
"It depends on the situation."
Russell analyzed calmly.
"Actually, the last time Mary secretly ran away from home to go on a date with me, Mr. Morstan became very displeased."
"She told me at school that her father had been drinking more frequently recently."
"Are you dating her?"
Lestrade raised one eyebrow, as though his attention had completely shifted to another point.
"Does Charlotte know?"
"It was raining, so we ran to Baker Street to take shelter. Do you think she knew?"
Russell shrugged.
Hearing this, Lestrade looked at Russell with a hint of admiration.
"You're going to do the same thing tonight too, huh…"
"Well, when someone is extremely fatigued and drinks a large amount of alcohol, the effects of the alcohol can be amplified."
Russell steered the conversation back on track.
"Considering various other factors, it's not impossible."
"What you're saying makes sense."
Lestrade pondered for a while.
"We're waiting for the blood test results tomorrow."
"If no abnormal drug components are detected in the blood, this case will have to be treated as a simple accident."
"Thank you for your hard work, Lestrade."
"It's fine. It's rare that I don't have to go looking for Charlotte," Lestrade chuckled. "Thanks to you, I've regained some confidence for the first time in a while."
Hearing this, Russell also laughed.
"Stay here with her tonight. I have to go back to the station to finish the on-site investigation report."
Lestrade stood up.
"Well then, take care."
After watching Lestrade leave, Russell turned his gaze back to the girl in his arms.
Mary's sleeping face was not peaceful. It looked as though she were having a nightmare. Her brows were furrowed, both hands were tightly gripping Russell's clothes, and soft sobs escaped from her throat.
Seeing this, Russell reached out and gently patted her shoulder.
"I'm here, so everything will be fine."
He said quietly.
"Good night, Mary."
Tomorrow, the sun will rise as usual.
…
Winter dawns are always unusually late.
When the pale morning light shone through the glass window at the end of the corridor in St. Thomas' Hospital, the gas lamps in the corridor went out one by one, signaling the end of the day's work.
The snow outside the window had stopped, and London was covered in a dazzling white.
Mary woke up to the sound of hushed voices.
She had been in a very light sleep. Or rather, in a state of extreme tension—as though standing at the edge of an abyss—she had been unable to truly fall asleep.
The girl suddenly opened her eyes. A trace of panic that she still couldn't completely hide flashed through her emerald green eyes for an instant.
However, the moment she felt the familiar presence and warm body temperature beside her, the faint panic instantly disappeared.
Russell was sitting next to her. Mary was still tightly wrapped in the coat, but Russell himself was only wearing a thin robe borrowed from the hospital staff.
"You're awake?"
Noticing the movement in his arm, Russell lowered his head. His voice was as calm as ever, though slightly hoarse from staying up all night.
"Mm…" Mary rubbed her eyes and sat up straight from his arms. She looked pitiful, like a flower that had been battered by wind and snow.
"My father…"
"He's still under observation in the intensive care unit. According to the doctor, his condition is stable for now, but there are still no signs of him regaining consciousness."
Russell gently comforted her.
The moment he said those words, the heavy sound of leather boots echoed from the depths of the corridor.
Inspector Lestrade, holding a thin report, strode toward them.
There were dark circles under his eyes. It was clear he had been going back and forth between the fire scene and the police station all night.
At that moment, Mary's heart felt like it was about to jump out of her throat. Her hands, wrapped in the coat, tightly gripped the hem, and her nails nearly dug into her palms.
The girl held her breath and didn't even have the courage to look at Lestrade's face. She could only curl up in Russell's arms as though clinging to the last bit of warmth, filled with extreme anxiety.
"Good morning, Inspector Lestrade."
Russell didn't stand up and gently patted Mary's back.
"Good morning, both of you."
Lestrade nodded and waved the report in his hand.
"The results are in."
He sighed, his expression a mix of relief and regret.
"How is it?"
When Russell asked, Mary couldn't help but prick up her ears and held him even tighter.
"It's just as you predicted last night, Russell."
There was a hint of admiration and gratitude in Lestrade's tone.
He looked at Mary and spoke in a reassuring tone, quite calmly.
"Miss Morstan. The forensic examiner conducted a blood test on your father last night."
"The results showed no drugs were detected in his blood, but his blood alcohol concentration was extremely high."
"Alcohol?"
Mary looked slightly surprised. She didn't understand what had happened, but she quickly grasped the situation and responded accordingly.
"Father… has indeed been drinking quite frequently these past few days…"
"Yes."
Lestrade nodded. "We suspect that Mr. Morstan drank too much alone in the study last night."
"Combined with extreme fatigue and excessive drinking, he fell into a state of severe exhaustion. He was dead drunk and sleeping deeply."
"In this state, his ability to perceive the outside world was reduced to a minimum. I've seen many drunkards freeze to death on the streets while intoxicated."
Lestrade concluded the report and stated the final conclusion.
"In conclusion, this was simply an accident. At the very least, it's fortunate that it has been proven Mr. Morstan wasn't targeted by anyone."
A long silence fell over the corridor.
Only the occasional sound of snow being shoveled and voices could be heard from outside the window.
At that moment, Mary felt a completely unreal, utterly absurd sensation.
How could this be possible?
She had personally poured an entire packet of sleeping powder into the tea and watched the man drink it.
It was impossible for such an amount to be metabolized in such a short time.
However, why had Lestrade only said that his blood alcohol concentration was extremely high?
Mary lowered her head. Her body trembled slightly. Crystal-like tears rolled down her pale cheeks and fell onto the cold floor tiles.
They were tears of joy.
"Thank you… Inspector Lestrade…" she sobbed, unable to suppress a smile as she genuinely rejoiced at the result.
"That's wonderful… If someone had really tried to harm Father… I wouldn't have known what to do at all."
Lestrade looked at the sobbing girl with pity, then lightly patted Russell's shoulder.
"There's still some finishing work left. I'll leave the rest to you, Russell."
All the hospital procedures are complete. The butler William said he can come help take care of Mr. Morstan at any time. You should get some proper rest now."
"Yes, thank you for your hard work as well, Inspector Lestrade."
Russell gave a slight nod and watched Lestrade leave.
Only after the heavy footsteps at the end of the corridor could no longer be heard did Russell slowly lower his head and look at the girl tightly clinging to his waist.
"It's over, Mary."
He spoke quietly, his low voice ringing in the girl's ears.
"It was just an accident, so you don't have to worry anymore."
"Mm…" Mary buried her face in Russell's chest and responded in a muffled voice, hugging him even tighter.
The two of them stayed close for a while, but soon hurried footsteps could be heard again.
This time, it was the butler William who arrived.
"Mr. Watson and Miss."
He stood before the two of them and spoke quietly.
"How is the Master?"
"His life is not in danger, but he probably won't regain consciousness anytime soon."
Russell repeated the doctor's conclusion.
"Based on the blood test results, Mr. Morstan's severe coma appears to have been caused by excessive alcohol consumption."
"Alcoholism…" William furrowed his brows, looking both surprised and somewhat convinced by the result.
"I should have apologized to Father sooner."
Mary spoke at the perfect moment, diverting William's attention from the conclusion.
"That way, Father wouldn't have had to drown himself in alcohol because of my problems…"
Hearing this, William raised his hand and gently patted Mary's shoulder.
"Young Miss, please don't blame yourself."
He said reassuringly. "At the very least, your father must have heard your words of apology in his final moments before falling into a coma."
As William spoke, he turned his gaze back to Russell.
"Thank you for looking after the Young Miss."
He said sincerely, judging from his attitude that he held no malice or dislike toward Russell.
"Of course."
Russell said.
"The rooms in the mansion have been cleaned. It will take a little more time to tidy up the study, but fortunately the fire didn't spread to the other rooms."
William revealed the purpose of his visit.
"From now on, we will take care of the Master, so the Young Miss and Mr. Watson should get some proper rest."
However, Mary shook her head.
"I… I don't want to go back, William."
The girl said quietly.
"I'm scared that if I go back, I'll remember Father's miserable appearance… I'm scared…"
"Young Miss…" William looked at Mary. Her eyes were swollen and red, and a feeling of pity welled up in his heart.
He had served the Morstan family for most of his life. Although he knew there was no blood relation between the Master and the Young Miss, the familial relationship that had lasted over ten years was real, and he had watched the Young Miss grow up with his own eyes.
It would be truly cruel to send a young woman who had just experienced such a major turning point in life back to that empty mansion filled with the smell of burning, all alone.
"Understood," the old butler sighed. "Then shall we contact the Master's relatives, or…"
"I don't know them very well…" Mary said quietly and buried her face even deeper into Russell's arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his body.
This action spoke louder than any words.
William followed her movement with his eyes, but his gaze turned toward Russell. He seemed to hesitate about whether to speak.
At that moment, Russell's voice rang out first.
"William, if it's alright with you, Mary can stay at Baker Street for a while."
He said.
"Baker Street?"
William raised one eyebrow.
"Mrs. Hudson is a kind person, and there's an empty room on the second floor…"
Russell said.
"Besides, it's not too far from the hospital or Scotland Yard, so if anything happens, Inspector Lestrade can come right away. It's very convenient."
He paused for a moment, then turned his gaze to Mary.
"Above all, I'm worried about Mary's current condition. I'm uneasy about leaving her alone."
"At least at Baker Street, the three of us—me, Mrs. Hudson, and Charlotte—can watch over her."
William was silent for a while.
He looked at the closed door of the hospital room, then turned his gaze to Russell's flawless face.
This could indeed be considered a good choice. The fact that this young man didn't mind spending the night with the young lady proved it.
The Master disliked him, but William himself did not dislike the young man. The reason the Master disliked him was simply because of the so-called reason that they were "not a good match."
Furthermore, Inspector Lestrade of Scotland Yard held this young man in very high regard, and Miss Holmes was just an ordinary woman.
In any case, there seemed to be no reason to refuse.
"Then I shall entrust the Young Miss to you, Mr. Watson."
He finally made his decision and bowed deeply to Russell.
"I will take full responsibility for handling things here. I will arrange for Mel to deliver the Young Miss's everyday clothes and toiletries to Baker Street. Of course, I will also send living expenses along with them."
"Let's not talk about money between the two of us."
Russell smiled. "Then I'll leave Mr. Morstan in your care, William."
"Thank you for your hard work, William."
Mary lifted her face from Russell's embrace, revealing her swollen emerald green eyes. Her voice was hoarse from nasal congestion and fatigue.
"Your eyes… I miss them…"
"Wearing them for a long time feels uncomfortable…" Mary said. "I was crying, so I don't know where the lenses fell off."
"I see…" William sighed. "Well, this isn't the time to talk about that. You should rest."
Russell led Mary out of the hospital corridor filled with the smell of disinfectant.
On this winter morning, the snow accumulated on London's streets had not yet completely melted.
The sunlight was bright, but not very warm.
When the two left the hospital, a carriage had been waiting by the roadside for some time.
Russell helped Mary into the carriage, gave the driver the address, and then got in himself.
The interior of the carriage was very quiet.
Mary sat right next to Russell, behaving as though she wanted to lean against him.
After changing clothes all night, the pure white velvet dress had lost its original luster and hung wrinkled on the chair.
After everything had calmed down, Mary was finally able to completely relax.
She leaned against Russell's shoulder, and her gaze gradually became unfocused, as though lost in thought.
Why… why was alcohol detected in Arthur Morstan's blood sample?
Even if he had been drinking, it was impossible for him to reach the level of alcoholism.
The only explanation was that someone had helped me.
Who? Why? How did they do it?
Mary furrowed her brows.
To do that, three conditions had to be met.
First, they knew the inside story of this arson incident.
Second, they knew that Lestrade was about to have blood drawn for testing.
Third, they had the ability to swap the blood sample without anyone noticing.
First, that was something only she herself could know.
Second, aside from the people who had been present at the time, probably only the medical staff in charge of the test would have known about it.
Third, the person capable of carrying this out… even if one searched all of London, there was probably only one person who fit the conditions.
These three conditions, which seemed impossible at first glance, swirled and intertwined in the girl's mind like three intersecting circles. And the coordinates where they intersected were the final answer.
Who was present at the time and heard Lestrade's decision regarding the blood test?
Who was it that used the excuse of "calling Mrs. Hudson to let her know I'm safe" to leave the bench at that critical moment and disappeared for about ten minutes?
And who was it that casually threw out the smokescreen of "alcoholism" and "extreme fatigue" while Lestrade was puzzled by the strange fire, perfectly guiding the detective's thinking?
If all of this was just a coincidence, then what about his other, unknown identity?
Moriarty.
That elusive thief who appeared and disappeared in London.
He would probably think that ten minutes was more than enough time to collect a blood sample.
Mary gasped.
She slowly raised her head and moved her gaze bit by bit from the collar of Russell's dark gray wool coat upward, finally resting on his well-defined profile. There was a hint of fatigue on that profile from staying up all night.
The morning light shining in from outside the carriage happened to illuminate his face at just the right angle, softening his features.
Russell remained calm, as though everything that had happened last night was merely an unfortunate accident and he was just a loyal knight.
"Russell…"
In the quiet carriage, the girl's voice rang out softly. It was slightly hoarse and carried a tremor.
"Mm?"
Russell lowered his head.
He had imagined a tired face, but instead, he was met with bright emerald green eyes that shone dazzlingly even in the dim light of the carriage.
There was no longer any false weakness or tears in those eyes—only a captivated gaze.
However, it carried a certain kind of enthusiasm, like a hunter targeting prey.
Mary slowly sat up and changed her position, straddling his lap once again.
At that moment, the carriage swayed slightly, as though it had run over a small stone.
So Russell instinctively reached out and wrapped his arm around Mary's waist to keep her from falling.
The girl obediently leaned forward and gently touched Russell's collar with her slender white fingers, tracing the elegant fabric, passing over his Adam's apple, and lightly touching his cheek.
It was an extremely aggressive gesture, yet it also carried a sense of gentleness.
"Did you really call Mrs. Hudson last night?"
She leaned in close to him, whispering almost directly into Russell's ear.
Her warm breath, mixed with the scent of white tea and the girl's own fragrance, drifted around Russell's nose.
Her emerald green eyes darted around with an expression mixed with mystery and cunning.
Russell saw that the girl in his arms seemed about to drop her disguise at any moment. His eyes brightened slightly, but in the end, he only smiled in relief.
"What else would I have done?"
Russell countered with a question and casually reached out to gently tuck away the strands of hair hanging by Mary's cheek.
"Mrs. Hudson is a light sleeper and always worries about trivial things."
He looked straight into her eyes and spoke in a calm tone.
"I talked to her for a while to reassure her and to mentally prepare her. I told her that I might have to stay at Baker Street for a while."
On the surface, it was an obvious answer that didn't reveal much deeper meaning, but in reality, it said a lot.
Hearing this, Mary chuckled softly.
She didn't ask anything further. Suddenly, both of her hands wrapped around Russell's neck, and she pressed her cold lips firmly against his.
Russell pinched Mary's waist helplessly, as though punishing her willfulness, while moving his lips and teeth in response.
Lips and teeth intertwined, breaths mingled.
Outside the carriage, London was just beginning to wake up in the early morning. The coachman's shouts, the distant sound of church bells, and the creaking of wheels rolling over snow intertwined to form a simple yet lively metropolitan symphony.
However, these sounds were shut out from this small, rapidly warming space.
Mary kissed him even more passionately than she had in the theater box.
Perhaps it was because they had shed their heavy disguises. Or perhaps because the excitement and fear that had remained in their blood all night had not yet faded.
It was a kiss that carried the chill of early morning, yet was burning hot enough to scorch.
Only when both of their bodies began to crave oxygen did they reluctantly part, silver droplets falling.
"Mary."
Russell said quietly. "We still haven't arrived home yet."
"This is my home."
Mary raised her face. Her eyes, no longer putting on airs, shone dazzlingly in the morning light.
She gently pressed her face against Russell's cheek. Her eyes reflected his figure.
"Wherever you are, that is my home."
The girl gently nibbled on Russell's earlobe and whispered into his ear.
"I caught you, Mr. Moriarty."