Inside the narrow carriage, the air grew warm from the fermentation of ambiguity.
Charlotte's movements were quick and decisive. She grabbed Russell's collar and pulled him forcefully toward her.
This should be considered her first real deep kiss.
A detective's kiss was different from a professor's. The professor's kiss was filled with a desperate, almost despairing desire to be crushed by the other person's flesh and blood. In contrast, the detective's kiss was confident yet carried a certain awkward clumsiness and an unwavering possessiveness.
Her lips felt slightly cool from the cold wind, like jelly just taken out of the refrigerator, with a few frost-like spots on the surface.
The first sensation upon contact wasn't softness, but a chilling coldness.
Then, the warmth transmitted from her mouth slowly dispelled the coldness and transformed it into affection.
Russell leaned back against the leather seat of the carriage, looking at the girl right in front of him with slightly widened eyes.
Charlotte possessed extraordinary talent in various fields, likely thanks to the excellent genes inherited from the Holmes family.
Unfortunately, when it came to kissing, talent and competitiveness alone were far from sufficient.
Russell sighed inwardly at the girl's haphazard and uncoordinated kiss.
He released Charlotte's tightly gripped hand and instead pinched her cheek.
His warm palm touched her skin, which had grown slightly cold from the wind and snow. His thumb gently stroked her jawline. Then Russell tilted his head slightly, changed the awkward angle between them, and took the initiative himself.
"Mmm."
Charlotte instinctively opened her eyes. Her pupils contracted slightly, and a short, muffled moan escaped her.
Russell's movements were gentle yet irresistibly charming. He skillfully pried open the girl's fragile mental defenses and turned what had started as a childish squabble into a sincere and intimate exchange between adults.
Their warm breaths mingled in the narrow space. Their tongues tentatively explored and intertwined, sending waves of tingling shivers down their spines with every contact.
Charlotte, who had been gripping Russell's collar, unconsciously loosened her hold. Instead, she weakly climbed onto his shoulder and finally clung tightly to his coat.
Her proud rationality seemed to have short-circuited at this moment. Her brain, which should have been able to calmly handle anything, had gone completely blank.
The carriage moved smoothly along the snow-covered road.
Outside the train window, gas lamp lights passed by one after another, casting flickering glows on the overlapping shadows inside the carriage.
They didn't know how long they had been kissing.
Only when Charlotte instinctively began to resist due to lack of oxygen in her lungs did Russell mercifully end the long kiss.
Their lips slowly parted, and faint breaths leaked out between them.
Charlotte leaned against Russell's shoulder, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Her face, which had once been cold and pale, was now flushed red, and a vivid redness also spread across her long neck. She took a deep breath of the slightly cold air inside the carriage. Her gray-blue eyes were enveloped in a hazy, watery light, revealing a fragility rarely seen in them.
She looked exactly like a woman.
"Has the advance payment been confirmed?"
Russell looked at her, slightly out of breath, and reached out to gently wipe away the small droplet the corner of Charlotte's lips.
"Would you like me to issue a receipt?"
Hearing this, Charlotte pushed Russell's hand away, forcibly straightened her back and sat up properly, then turned her face toward the window. She tried to cool the burning sensation on her face with the snowy night scenery outside.
"With your skills, I feel like smashing up your stall."
She said this through gritted teeth.
"It's a small shop, so I hope the great detective will show mercy."
Russell smiled.
"If it gets smashed, I'll have nowhere to eat."
"It's simple. I'll lock you up in the basement of Baker Street."
Charlotte said.
"If it's three meals a day, you definitely won't starve."
"Then let's forget about that."
Russell raised both hands. "I still want to see the sunrise from Baker Street for the next two days."
"Hmph."
Charlotte pursed her lips and tugged at the cashmere scarf around her neck.
"You just got lucky this time."
She said, "Next time, I'll take back the initiative, Mr. Moriarty."
"Do as you please."
Russell leaned back deeply in his chair, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, his long legs casually crossed.
They didn't know how much time had passed, but with the coachman's "Whoa!" the carriage slowly came to a stop in front of 221B Baker Street.
"We've arrived."
When Russell pushed open the carriage door, cold air instantly rushed inside, blowing away the melting heat within the carriage in one go.
Charlotte put her black deerstalker hat back on and lowered the brim.
The moment she stepped out of the carriage, she returned to the aloof, sharp, and unapproachable Miss Holmes.
However, her usually tightly pressed lips were now inevitably swollen and stained a rosy pink, glistening with moisture.
Russell paid the fare and walked toward the stairs alongside Charlotte. Before he could even take out his key, the familiar wooden door opened from the inside.
A warm wind carrying the aroma of roasted meat and the warmth of the fireplace gently blew in.
Mary stood behind the door.
She was wearing a soft beige turtleneck sweater and a form-fitting dark long skirt.
Her originally striking pale golden hair was casually tied into a loose bun, with only a few slightly curled strands hanging down on either side of her face.
Some of the nobility and coldness she had possessed at the Morstan mansion had been lost, replaced by an irresistibly approachable and homely warmth.
"Welcome back. It must be snowing heavily outside."
Mary smiled and naturally reached out to take Russell's coat.
However, her emerald green eyes unintentionally swept across Charlotte's face.
With just one glance, she was certain of something.
Those gray-blue eyes still retained traces of spring water, and a faint redness lingered on her usually pale, tight cheeks and ear tips.
Mary knew all too well what that feeling was.
There was no need to look twice to confirm.
Last night, in the box seat at the Royal Opera House, she had done the same thing—left marks of herself on that man's body.
And now, late at night, with the silk robe removed and the soft bed with freshly changed and washed sheets…
The girl quickly hid the melancholy and jealousy that had surfaced in her eyes and put on a gentle smile once more.
"Charlotte is back too."
She said, "Come in quickly. It's cold outside."
"Good."
Charlotte said in a calm tone. She didn't seem inclined to take advantage of the opportunity Mary had provided.
"I was warming up in the carriage for a while, so it's not that cold."
She said.
"..."
Mary's smile froze for an instant.
"I see…" she said quietly, then looked toward Russell, who had entered the room.
At that moment, Russell was holding a cup of hot black tea, but suddenly felt a chill run down his spine.
He turned around, accepted her gaze with a gentle smile, then gave a light cough twice.
"Anyway, please come in."
Mary said that after Charlotte entered the house, she closed the door to keep out the wind and snow.
The three of them tacitly went upstairs and entered Charlotte's room.
The fireplace flames burned brightly, making every visitor forget the winter chill. Charlotte's room maintained its usual unique yet orderly chaotic atmosphere.
Documents were piled high on the desk, and several thick psychology books were scattered at the edge of the carpet.
Charlotte casually tossed her slightly damp deerstalker hat onto the desk, untied the thick cashmere scarf around her neck, and went straight to her armchair and sat down.
Meanwhile, Mary looked like the perfect hostess.
She walked lightly to Russell's side and, with surprising ease, reached out and helped him take off his coat.
"It's snowing heavily outside, but are you okay?"
She asked gently while straightening Russell's shirt collar. Her fingertips lightly brushed against his Adam's apple.
However, at this extremely close distance, those green eyes—like a summer forest—accurately captured the faint small reflection at the edge of Russell's jawline.
That was a lipstick mark.
Charlotte didn't like heavy makeup or lip gloss. She only applied lip balm to moisturize her lips.
Mary's smile remained unchanged. Even the curve of her lips maintained a perfect gentleness.
When she tried to straighten Russell's collar, her right thumb accidentally slid upward. Her soft fingertip gently rubbed the reflective surface and completely erased it.
"Why does your face look so cold?"
Mary complained softly and leaned half her body against Russell. From her came the rich, sweet scent of white camellia.
"Next time you go out, don't forget to wear a scarf."
Charlotte, seated in the single armchair, witnessed the entire scene.
She crossed her long legs. A hint of mockery that she couldn't completely hide flickered in her gray-blue eyes.
"A scarf is merely a physical means of keeping warm."
Charlotte spoke slowly and carefully, placing her long, slender fingers on her knee.
"Sometimes, don't you think direct heat transfer is more effective than any cashmere product?"
At that moment, the air seemed to have completely cooled, only to suddenly boil with heat the next instant.
In this chaotic scene, the only background sound seemed to be the crackling of the fireplace.
Russell was still holding the cup of hot black tea. And at that moment, he deeply understood what it felt like to have a thorn suddenly stabbed into his side.
He took a sip of the black tea, swallowed the heat, and sat down on the sofa next to Mary without changing his expression.
"The second law of thermodynamics states that heat always spontaneously flows from a high-temperature object to a low-temperature object. Thank you, Miss Holmes, for explaining physics in such an easy-to-understand way."
"You're welcome."
Charlotte's lips curved slightly.
"Alright, sit down. You can't just stand there."
Mary reached out and gently pulled Russell.
When Russell sat down, Mary also sat right next to him with almost no gap.
"I think practical experience is a good thing."
As she spoke, she leaned slightly toward Russell. One hand naturally rested on Russell's thigh.
"Especially when using different testing methods under different experimental conditions…"
Hearing this, Charlotte coldly glanced at the hand placed on Russell's leg and let out a mocking snort.
She wanted to say something more, but Russell put down his teacup first.
"It's fine."
In a situation where tension had reached its peak and even the smallest spark could blow 221B to pieces, Russell, who was at the center of the storm, finally had no choice but to speak up.
"Everyone, a truce. If we're going to waste energy on such meaningless arguments, let's get straight to the point, shall we?"
Russell glanced at Charlotte, then quickly changed the subject. It was also to prevent the two women from actually starting a fight right there.
"First of all, who do you think is responsible for all of this?"
Charlotte snorted coldly.
"It seems there are people who don't understand at all that they are the ones who caused this situation."
Mary still didn't show a clear stance.
"Understood, understood. It's all my fault."
Russell reluctantly raised both hands, then looked at Charlotte.
"Now, let's get to the main topic, Charlotte."
Hearing this, Charlotte snorted coldly and didn't dwell on the matter any further.
What mattered to her wasn't exchanging words, but seizing the initiative from the other party.
In simple terms, she had to be the biggest presence.
"First of all, Charles Brown is much more normal when Russell isn't around."
She first looked at Russell.
"He's not saying incomprehensible things. He can talk, eat, and communicate normally."
Although the process of recalling the events was somewhat difficult, with a little help, it proceeded relatively smoothly.
Under the watchful eyes of Russell and Mary, Charlotte began unraveling the mystery. Although the answer was already clear to all three of them.
She flipped over the information wall and stuck sticky notes with Russell's and Mary's names under the codenames representing "Professor" and "Moriarty" respectively.
"You two truly possess extraordinary talents."
Charlotte held a cup of red black tea and turned to look at Russell and Mary.
"One is London's famous thief, and the other is a professor of underground crime. Besides that, is there anything I don't know?"
Hearing this, Russell and Mary exchanged glances. Russell shook his head.
"Hmm?"
Charlotte seemed somewhat skeptical.
"Let me say this. This is your last chance to be honest with each other."
"Based on your answers, I will decide whether to pretend I know nothing or tell Mycroft."
"Mycroft already knew I was Moriarty," Russell said calmly.
"When he asked me to send him home, he had already told me everything clearly."
"Just because he knows about you doesn't mean he knows about her. The elegant lily of high society, Mary Morstan, is actually the powerful professor of London's underworld, isn't she?"
Charlotte stared straight at Mary, as though trying to see through to the depths of her heart.
Hearing these words, Mary's smile froze for an instant.
"Even if we didn't say anything, Mycroft would have noticed something like that."
Mary said.
"The premise that Mycroft needs someone to make him uncover the truth is indispensable."
Charlotte said.
"Russell doesn't like nosy women, Charlotte."
Mary sighed.
"I don't think he likes women who keep secrets."
Charlotte retorted.
"So, what else are you hiding from me?"
"There's nothing I need to say," Mary said while fiddling with her hair as though deep in thought. "The only thing left is the name."
"Name?"
Charlotte narrowed her eyes slightly. "If you're going to say your real name is Lily or Anna, there's no need to waste time on such nonsense."
"Of course. It's not a common, overused name."
Mary quietly shook her head.
"As I said before, when I was in the orphanage, I was like a weed without even a name."
Mary's voice was very soft, carrying a fragile resonance, as though it would shatter with the slightest touch.
"When did you say that?"
"To Russell, I said, 'It's your problem if you don't know.'"
"Tch…" Charlotte furrowed her brows and glared at Russell.
Russell silently looked away.
Mary ignored Charlotte's dissatisfied gaze and quietly leaned back on the sofa, tilting her body slightly toward Russell.
"Until now, I've always thought that in this life, I was nothing more than a substitute."
"But in reality, that young woman was a very gentle person."
"Far from resenting me for taking her life, she treated me like her only little sister."
"What does that have to do with your name?"
Charlotte couldn't help but interrupt her story.
"Don't be impatient, great detective."
Mary looked up and smiled lightly at Charlotte.
"Please be quiet while listening to the story."
"Before my sister died, she said this to me. 'You can't remain a substitute forever. You must have your own name.'"
"A name that no one else in the world knows except her. A name that belongs only to me."
Mary turned her face and stared straight at Russell beside her with her clear emerald green eyes, now free of their blue disguise.
"She combined her mother's maiden name with the codename I used when I was in the orphanage to create this name."
A slow smile appeared on the girl's lips.
"My name is James."
She spoke slowly and clearly, her voice echoing in Russell's ears.
"James Moriarty."