Russell's voice echoed from the doorway, and the two people inside the room simultaneously regained their composure.
"Russell, so you were here."
When Mary turned around, the frost-like coldness in her eyes disappeared the moment she saw Russell, replaced by the gentle warmth of spring water.
"Charlotte and I were just discussing a few ideas about the opera."
As she spoke, she naturally shifted her body to the side, making most of the adjacent sofa part of her own space. Then she reached out and gently patted the cushion in an inviting gesture.
"You worked hard. Come, sit down and rest for a bit."
Hearing this, Russell glanced at the empty seat next to Mary, then at Charlotte sitting in the armchair. Suddenly, the plate in his hands felt as heavy as a ton.
He placed the plate he was holding down and gave a light cough.
"It's fine, please stay there. I'll find another seat."
As he spoke, he casually pulled over a chair from beside the desk and sat down.
Although the height was a little unnatural, there didn't seem to be any better options at the moment.
"Aren't you going to eat something? Aren't you hungry?"
Russell pushed the sandwiches on the plate forward.
"Eat something light first. When Mrs. Hudson comes back, we'll prepare dinner."
At that, their gazes simultaneously turned to the sandwiches on the plate. The portion was small—only three in total. It was just the right amount to serve as an appetizer before a meal.
"Bacon, fried egg, and buttered toast sandwiches?"
Mary picked up one piece and gently sniffed it.
"Mmm, it smells really good."
"Again? Is there nothing else?"
Charlotte casually picked up one piece. "It's not novel at all."
"You eat this every day, and now you're complaining?"
Russell glanced at her.
"Ah, that's true."
Having received the answer she wanted, Charlotte nodded in satisfaction and took a bite.
"Sorry, he's used to doing things like this," Charlotte said while looking at Mary. "Otherwise, you could try something else."
Mary paused her chewing for a moment, then smiled.
"It's fine. I like everything he makes."
"Yes, me too," Charlotte said ambiguously. "Because what he does is what I like."
"..."
Russell silently munched on his sandwich, sensing the rising tension in the room.
When Mrs. Hudson's voice came from downstairs and he learned that she had returned, he felt as though he had been granted a pardon and hurriedly stood up.
"I'll go help Mrs. Hudson prepare dinner. You two take your time talking."
With that, he left without giving them a chance to react.
Once again, only Charlotte and Mary remained in the room, staring blankly at each other.
"By the way," Charlotte said, looking at Mary. "Did you drop out of school?"
"Mm?"
Mary raised an eyebrow, as though she hadn't expected the other party to ask such a question.
"No."
She said, "Anyway, the semester is almost over, and there are only a few days left, so it'll end soon. Maybe the professor will take pity on me and give me high grades."
"Then who handles things at your house—that is, the Morstan house?"
"Of course, I do."
Mary said flatly. "Now that that man has become useless, all the power and decision-making authority naturally falls into my hands."
With Russell gone and only Mary and Charlotte left, Mary once again returned to her true self, having removed her mask.
"Having to attend school while also dealing with relatives who look at you with predatory eyes must be tough, right?"
"Yes, so I would be truly grateful if there was someone who understood my efforts and didn't try to steal my lover."
Mary nodded.
Hearing this, Charlotte curled her lips in disdain.
"That guest even gave instructions to the host."
"Well… I paid the rent, and Mrs. Hudson accepted it, so in a sense, I'm also one of the tenants."
Mary said.
Charlotte could only stare at her in exasperation before standing up and walking out of Russell's room.
At dinnertime, the four of them sat around the table. To celebrate Mary's arrival, Mrs. Hudson had bought a large amount of fresh ingredients to prepare a lavish dinner.
These ingredients, processed by Russell, quickly transformed into fragrant, appetizing dishes.
"I never knew Russell had such talent."
Mrs. Hudson looked at the dishes on the table with a surprised expression, then lightly patted Russell's shoulder.
"It's truly a shame he's not opening a restaurant."
"If you turn a hobby into a job, you might not reach this level."
Russell smiled, then arranged for everyone to sit down and eat.
Mary sat to Russell's left, Charlotte to his right, and Mrs. Hudson sat at the head of the table, smiling at the two young, beautiful girls.
"Eat more, Mary."
She enthusiastically pushed a plate of roasted vegetables toward Mary.
"There are no complicated rules here. You can eat whatever you like. Look, you're so thin."
"Thank you, Mrs. Hudson."
Mary looked up and smiled gently.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was surprisingly harmonious. Russell had been worried that something might go wrong, but Charlotte and Mary seemed to have tacitly set aside their prejudices toward each other at that moment and chose to eat quietly.
He didn't know what they were actually thinking, but the overall result was good.
After dinner, Russell helped clear the table and wash the dishes. During that time, Charlotte and Mary went upstairs.
"How did it go?"
Charlotte sat in the armchair and looked at Mary, who had suddenly called her over, with a puzzled expression.
"I thought you would help Russell wash the dishes."
"Are you going to North Mountain Highland tomorrow?"
Mary asked directly. "That's what you mentioned at dinner."
"Yes, I didn't bring Russell with me," Charlotte said. "That's good. You'll have plenty of time to spend alone with him tomorrow."
"Why didn't you let him come with you?"
Mary furrowed her brows.
"It's impossible for him not to come, right?"
Charlotte countered. "Didn't you seize the opportunity?"
"I don't understand."
Mary ignored Charlotte's sarcasm and continued.
"What's so hard to understand?"
"You already know everything, so why do you still want to meet that madman?"
Mary said.
"You already know the answer, don't you? You should also know the professor's true identity. Since I'm standing right in front of you, why do you still need to meet Charles Brown?"
"One at a time."
Charlotte said. "Because that's what I started from the beginning. Do you understand why I skipped all the processes and knew the result in advance?"
"Why?"
"Because I saw a certain person when I looked at Mycroft."
Charlotte said.
"Regarding Billson hiding in Hanigan's mansion, we had the same idea."
"However, there is a prerequisite for reaching an agreement in thinking."
Hearing this, Mary's pupils contracted slightly.
"Information synchronization."
She said.
"Yes, information synchronization."
Charlotte nodded.
"If the professor wants to reach the same conclusion as me, then he should have the same amount of information as me."
"At that time, only Russell, Lestrade, and I knew what had happened between Billson and Emily.
If there is an outsider who wasn't directly involved but still knows the details, it's you."
Charlotte looked at Mary.
"Honestly, I've been troubled a lot by Russell's loose tongue."
Hearing this, Mary nodded lightly while casting an admiring glance at Charlotte.
But she quickly regained her composure and returned to a serious expression.
"If you already know, then why go through all this trouble?"
She said, "This behavior is completely incomprehensible."
"I have my own rhythm, and Mycroft simply provided me with a shortcut."
Charlotte said, "That's not all, you know."
"Then what about Moriarty?"
Mary furrowed her brows. "I can't believe you don't know Moriarty."
"He never admitted it to me, and no evidence was found either."
Charlotte said, "The same goes for things related to you."
"Incomprehensible."
"Speculation is just speculation. Even if it's correct, it's still just speculation."
Charlotte said, "What I should do is think rationally."
"For the sake of 'redundant and meaningless lines.'"
Mary sighed. "Aren't you going to admit that meeting Charles Brown is dangerous?"
"Dangerous?"
"The man who killed Billson is hiding near North Mountain Highland."
Mary said.
"I don't know exactly where he's hiding. I haven't been in contact with him since I assigned him that mission."
"You mean that assassin?"
Charlotte suddenly realized. "So, what's his name?"
"Why would I know? In the profession of a professional assassin, does anyone use their real name?"
Mary pouted.
"My orders to him were simple. If he sees you in that area, he must stop you."
"You really hate me, don't you?"
Charlotte sighed.
"Don't say something stupid. If it were you, you would definitely do the same thing."
Mary pouted.
"Indeed," Charlotte said ambiguously. "If it were me, I would have that man shoot Charlotte Holmes dead."
"Then you would incur Mycroft's wrath. I'm not foolish enough to go against the British government."
Mary's eyes widened.
"In short, I've already told you clearly. Even if you don't think about yourself, you should at least think about Russell, right?"
"Then tell me. If I get injured, will Russell distance himself from you and then… take my side?"
Charlotte suddenly laughed.
"You——" Mary said with wide eyes. "You're crazy."
She cursed.
"Say whatever you want," Charlotte waved her hand. "Anyway, I'm definitely going to North Hill Heights. Cherish this precious time you can spend alone with him tomorrow."
With that, she turned around and walked out of the room with light steps.
Mary watched Charlotte's retreating figure, furrowed her brows, then quickly relaxed them.
"You're crazy," she muttered to herself and sat down on the sofa.
…
After Russell dried his hands and climbed the somewhat narrow wooden stairs back to the second floor, the entire 221B was already enveloped in the unique silence of a winter night.
Charlotte's room door was tightly closed, with no light leaking from the gap. The unconventional female detective seemed to have gone to bed early to prepare for tomorrow's trip to North Mountain Highland.
Or perhaps she was simply resting with her eyes closed in the darkness. Whatever the reason, she had left the living room for the other two tonight.
Russell pushed open the slightly ajar living room door.
The smokeless coal in the fireplace burned quietly, making soft crackling sounds that gave a sense of security.
Like a soft veil, the warm orange light gently enveloped this room filled with Victorian-era retro atmosphere.
Mary was lying on the sofa with deep red velvet cushions.
She was still wearing that large flannel nightgown. Her long, high-quality silk-like silver hair cascaded like a waterfall from the edge of the sofa, its tips almost touching the intricately patterned Persian rug.
Hearing Russell's footsteps, the girl slowly opened her eyes.
"Have you finished washing the dishes?"
She asked quietly in a slightly hoarse, nasal voice.
"Yes, Mrs. Hudson has already gone to rest."
Russell nodded and walked over to the sofa, looking at her.
From his perspective, because of the way the girl was lying down, the wide collar of her robe was slightly open, revealing her slender white neck and delicate skin that gently rose and fell with her breathing.
"Why are you lying here?"
He said, "If you want to rest, go to the bedroom."
"I'm not sleepy yet," Mary said. "Besides, I haven't taken a bath yet."
As she spoke, she sat up from the sofa.
"Is there still hot water left?"
"Yes, there is."
Russell nodded.
"I'm going to take a shower now."
The girl smiled, opened her suitcase, took out some clothes and what looked like conditioner, and walked toward the bathroom.
Behind Mary, the bathroom door closed quietly.
Soon after, the sound of running water could be heard from the bathroom.
In the silence of the winter night, the sound of water was particularly clear, almost drowning out the crackling of the burning firewood in the fireplace.
Mary stood under the showerhead. Warm water flowed down along her elegant curves, washing away the fatigue of the day and the heavy shell she had hidden for so long.
The bathroom was filled with steam, and both the mirror and her vision became blurry.
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
The air was no longer filled with the suffocatingly luxurious perfume scent of the Morstan mansion. Instead, a simple, clean soap fragrance drifted in the air.
This was Russell's preferred scent, and she liked it too.
The girl reached out to the shelf in front of her and picked up the small bottle she had brought.
It wasn't conditioner, but a special solution that could wash out hair dye in a short time.
If Arthur Morstan knew she had something like that, he would probably be furious, but now, he no longer had the opportunity to control her.
Without hesitation, Mary poured the solution into her palm and applied it to her proud silver hair.
The moment the solution touched her hair, a faint, slightly irritating chemical smell appeared, but it was quickly washed away by the hot water.
She gently massaged her scalp with her fingertips, evenly applying the solution to every strand of hair.
Following the movement of her fingertips, the silver-white pigment gradually faded and spiraled down the drain along with the flow of water, as though she herself were washing away the life she had been forced to act out as a substitute.
About fifteen minutes later, Mary turned off the shower.
She grabbed a large bath towel, wrapped it around her body, walked over to the sink, and wiped the fog off the mirror with her hand.
The person reflected in the mirror looked no different from before, but her long hair had completely changed.
Like forsythia blooming in early spring, or wheat swaying in the summer breeze, and like the vivid emerald green eyes that had shed their blue mask.
This was her true appearance.
"Finally..."
The girl murmured softly in a voice trembling with relief.
She wiped her body, pulled out the bathrobe hanging behind the door. It wasn't Charlotte's large, baggy flannel bathrobe, but the soft, form-fitting silk bathrobe she had brought from home.
The girl wrapped the bathrobe around her body. Because she had tied the belt loosely around her waist, a large area of skin was exposed from her neck down.
She didn't even completely dry her hair. Her pale yellow wet hair flowed over her shoulders, and water droplets dripping from the tips formed small puddles on the floor tiles.
"Click."
She gently turned the lock on the bathroom door.
Steam rising from the gap in the door swirled and condensed in the light of the fireplace flames, creating a dreamlike veil.
Then, Mary emerged from the mist.
Russell wasn't in the living room, but there seemed to be some noise coming from the bedroom.
Hearing that sound, Mary quietly walked toward the bedroom door.
Russell was making the bed. He didn't notice the girl behind him until she called out to him softly.
"Russell."
Hearing this, Russell turned around.
The moment Russell saw her full figure, he froze on the spot. He only came back to his senses when Mary stood in front of him.
"Mary, what happened to your hair…"
"Does it look good?"
The girl turned her face to the side. Her pale yellow wet hair flowed over her shoulders, carrying a captivating fragrance.
"This is the real me, Russell."
She spoke quietly, directing her emerald green eyes at him, not missing a single expression on his face.
The flickering flames of the fireplace cast a flowing golden edge of light on the girl's long wet hair.
After shedding her cold, noble silver-white attire, her hair, flowing like a waterfall over her shoulders, was dyed in a warm, vivid pale yellow, like the sunlight of early spring.
"Does it look good?"
Mary asked again. Instead of standing still and waiting for his evaluation, she stepped onto the carpet with her long, straight legs barefooted and strode toward Russell.
The hem of her silk bathrobe swayed gently with her movements, subtly accentuating the girl's slender, elegant curves.
Russell's gaze lingered on her for a while before finally looking away.
"Actually…" he said. "A person's beauty isn't determined by eye color or hair color."
Hearing this, Mary was slightly surprised.
"If I said, 'You look lovely right now,' it would be denying who you were before. So I can't say that."
Russell reached out and picked up a strand of the girl's hair.
"Soon, just as you said, to me, you are you.
Similarly, to me, you are just you. No matter what your hair color or eye color is, it's all part of who you are.
Of course, if I absolutely had to choose——"
He paused for a moment, then looked into the girl's eyes and smiled lightly.
"I think this suits you much better."
Hearing these calm and straightforward words of acceptance, Mary paused for a moment.
In those eyes, vivid like an early spring forest, something that had been suppressed for a long time seemed to shatter into pieces at that instant.
"You're always like this…" Mary murmured softly in a slightly trembling voice, mixed with sobs.
She quickly walked over to Russell and raised her hands to push him down onto the bed.
The girl's slender knees were placed on the mattress on either side of Russell's thighs. As a result, the hem of her silk bathrobe slid down on both sides, revealing a large area of her translucent white skin.
She leaned forward slightly, supporting herself on the mattress with both hands, and wrapped her arms around Russell's body.
"You know…" Mary brought her face close, their noses almost touching.
She tilted her head slightly. Her emerald green eyes shone in the firelight, exuding a captivating, seductive aura.
"How dangerous is it for a girl who has just let her guard down to hear something so sweet said in such a light tone?"
Her warm, moist breath mixed with the steam and soap scent drifting from the bathroom, as well as the deep, sweet fragrance of white tea, forming an impenetrable net that seemed to tightly envelop Russell.
"How dangerous could it be?"
Russell raised one eyebrow.
Mary lowered her eyes and chuckled softly.
She didn't answer immediately. Instead, she gradually lowered her center of gravity.
Her wet pale yellow hair hung down, touching Russell's cheeks and chin, bringing a slight cool dampness.
As she leaned forward, her already loosely tied silk bathrobe slipped down from her rounded shoulders by about an inch, revealing a large area of delicate skin that shone dazzlingly white in the moonlight.
"It's very dangerous…"
Mary pressed her lips against his and whispered in an extremely low, hoarse voice filled with intense longing.
"I want to eat you."
Even after hearing these words, Russell didn't flinch. He naturally placed his hands on the girl's slender waist.
Through the thin, cool silk, his fingertips could clearly feel that the hot, soft body underneath was still trembling slightly.
"In 221B Baker Street? In my bed?"
He asked in a calm voice, as though facing an overconfident enemy.
"Just so you know, the soundproofing in this house isn't as good as in your luxurious mansion in Kensington."
Hearing this, Mary choked slightly, and her breathing quickened.
At that moment, Russell suddenly raised his face, gently bit Mary's earlobe, and whispered in a voice that only the two of them could hear.
"You are the challenger, Professor."