The two retraced the path they had come and returned to Baker Street.
The wind was a little stronger than when they had arrived, and Charlotte's hair fluttered wildly, but she didn't feel particularly cold.
Russell pushed open the door of 221B Baker Street. The two of them stepped inside, shutting out the cold wind and returning to the warm, comfortable house.
Mrs. Hudson had returned a little earlier and was resting. Russell and Charlotte remained silent and tiptoed up the stairs.
"Well then, I'll go back to my room."
Charlotte stood at the doorway and turned to look at Russell.
"What would you like to eat tomorrow?"
Russell asked. Charlotte seemed to think for a moment and hesitated.
"Sandwiches?"
"We just had sandwiches tonight. How about something different?"
"Sandwiches are fine."
Charlotte said, "I'm already used to them, and I can't think of anything good right now."
"Got it," Russell shrugged. "Then let's go with sandwiches."
"Mm."
Charlotte nodded and reached out to open the door to her room.
"Good night, Russell."
"Good night, Charlotte."
Russell turned around and pushed open the door to his bedroom.
Charlotte closed the door and leaned against it, taking a deep breath.
The room was dark. Only the moonlight streaming through the window cast a silver-white band of light across the floor.
Charlotte stood motionless beneath the moonlight.
She reached up and touched her chest. Her heart was still beating fast.
Her cheeks were still warm, which was why she hadn't felt how cold the London night was during the entire walk back.
She stood up, walked to the coffee table, poured a glass of water, and drank it all in one go.
She had said it. She had finally spoken those words.
Charlotte lay down on the sofa and stared at the ceiling, looking restless.
In reality, her actual reaction after saying those words was completely different from what she had expected.
She had thought she would be more excited, more emotional, more moved. But in truth, after speaking those words, Charlotte felt strangely calm.
It was as though she had finally exhaled a breath she had been holding in her chest for a long time.
The goal hadn't been to receive a reply. It had simply been to say those words, to convey them to the other person, to let them know. That was all.
What she had wanted to tell Russell was that the feelings she had for him were her own problem, and had nothing to do with him.
In fact, she still didn't completely understand what the so-called emotion of "liking someone" actually was.
She had accepted Mycroft's conclusion, but that didn't mean it was the truth.
Mycroft himself was also single. There was no way he could make such a judgment about himself with just a few words. From childhood to adulthood, Mycroft had never brought a woman home or spoken a woman's name. Even the family had never had the opportunity to urge him to marry.
Charlotte sat up and returned to her bedroom to lie down.
The bed still carried a familiar scent. Russell had slept there the previous night.
She pulled the blanket over herself to avoid catching a cold from the low evening temperature.
Charlotte unconsciously touched her lips and recalled what Russell had said on the bridge.
As everyone knows, a kiss on the cheek is performed on the face, and the face usually refers to the side of the cheek, never reaching the corner of the mouth.
In other words, at least in this regard, I'm ahead.
"Tch…"
Charlotte clicked her tongue and tossed and turned in bed.
Her heart had started pounding again.
…
The next day.
Russell woke up to the sound of the alarm clock and groggily slapped it to turn it off.
He struggled to open his eyes, yawned, stared at the ceiling for a while, then slowly sat up.
This was the first time in several days that he had been woken by the alarm clock. Only God knew what time he had gone to bed last night.
He ran a hand through his hair, got dressed, went to the bathroom, splashed cold water on his face, then opened the window and let the cold wind blow against his face.
The early winter cold wind blew against his face and touched the remaining water droplets. It was like a brief encounter between a golden breeze and jade dew, surpassing all the countless joys in this world.
The ice diffusion reaction was completely shocking to Russell.
Russell shook his head, closed the window, turned around, put on his coat, opened the door, and prepared to go downstairs to make breakfast.
The moment the door was pushed open, the door directly across from him also opened. Charlotte stood in the doorway, facing Russell. The two stopped and looked at each other at the same time.
"Good morning."
Charlotte spoke first. Russell was a moment late in reacting, then nodded.
"Good morning."
He said.
The two stared at each other. Silence fell. Finally, Russell broke the awkward silence.
"Up this early again?"
"Hmm, I'm not very sleepy."
Charlotte nodded, then turned her gaze to Russell, narrowed her eyes, and furrowed her brows.
"If you're sleepy, you can sleep a little longer. Besides, you don't have school today, and I'm not very hungry either."
"It's fine. I'm not that sleepy."
Russell said.
"If you're not sleepy, why did you wash your face with cold water and let the wind in through the window?"
Charlotte asked, "Do you have some strange fetish?"
"Your neck and hair are still damp, and your hairstyle is messy too. It's not because you were sleeping—it's because of the wind.
By this time, you should have already finished preparing breakfast downstairs. The fact that you were delayed in leaving means you got up when the alarm went off, which is proof that your internal clock is off. In other words, you were sleeping very deeply, which shows that you're very tired."
Charlotte said.
"Go back to sleep. I really think you should."
"No need," Russell shook his head. "I wanted to sleep, but it's already too late."
He took the lead and went downstairs, efficiently headed to the kitchen, turned on the stove, heated the pan, and finished preparing breakfast.
"I'm going to buy the morning paper."
According to Charlotte, Russell replied from the kitchen, then went out and returned five minutes later with a freshly printed copy of The Times.
Russell had just finished frying the bacon and was about to start frying the eggs.
"What's the news today?"
He asked casually, as though trying to find a topic to avoid making the morning atmosphere awkward.
"It's still about Moriarty."
Charlotte said.
"Did he appear again?"
Russell raised one eyebrow. Charlotte picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, then turned her gaze to the person busy in the kitchen.
"No."
She said. "This is about the Douglas family's despicable affair. A woman named Agnes contacted The Times as a whistleblower. It seems she used to be a maid for the Douglas family."
She spoke about what she had witnessed while working for the Douglas family, and also reported on a factory suspected of abusing its employees.
"Agnes?"
Russell stopped frying the eggs and seemed to recall something. He didn't answer, and Charlotte didn't say anything either.
"Breakfast was ready."
The two ate breakfast while chatting about nothing in particular. Eventually, the sky outside the window brightened, and London's streets began to fully awaken.
The atmosphere at the dinner table was somewhat awkward… or rather, it far exceeded Russell's expectations.
After what happened last night, he had thought that today's interaction with Charlotte might change, but nothing had changed.
Charlotte maintained her usual attitude. She didn't become more intimate, nor did she distance herself.
Everything that happened last night seemed like a vivid dream Russell had seen while half-asleep.
"What are your plans for today?"
Charlotte suddenly asked.
Russell stopped chewing and fell into thought.
'I don't have anything particular to do today. If there's something I can or should do, it's probably studying. But since the final exams are still a while away, even that is optional.'
"I haven't decided yet," Russell said and shook his head. "What about you?"
He threw the question back at Charlotte. "If you have something to do, want to go together?"
Hearing this, Charlotte paused for a moment, then picked up her coffee and took a sip.
"I'm fine."
Charlotte said, "Before, I used to eat breakfast, go back to sleep, and when I woke up, I'd pick up a book and read all day."
She paused for a moment, then seemed to think of something and turned to look at Russell.
"Of course, if you're interested, I still have some materials, so we could…"
"What kind of materials?"
"Chemical raw materials."
"Understood. This proposal is rejected."
Russell declared this without any room for argument.
Even after hearing this, Charlotte's expression didn't change. She didn't seem surprised at all that her proposal had been rejected.
"Then what do you want to do?"
She naturally threw the question back at him.
Russell thought for a moment but couldn't come up with any suitable ideas.
Entertainment in this era was limited. For ordinary people, the most they could do was take a walk in the park, read books at the library, or sit in a café all day.
If you had money, that was fine. You could go see a musical, attend a salon, go to the races, or go hunting.
But for someone like Russell, transforming into a phantom thief and stealing things was one of the few forms of entertainment available. Even so, he couldn't casually say to Charlotte, "Charlotte, let's go steal something together."
Even if he did, that wouldn't be her biggest worry. She might suspect he was Moriarty, and Charlotte might even start thinking there was something wrong with his head.
"If you don't know what to do, can I make a suggestion?"
While the two were wondering what to do, Mrs. Hudson's voice came from behind Charlotte.
She looked as though she had just woken up, but at the same time, as though she had been awake for a while. She was smiling now.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hudson."
Russell and Charlotte greeted her at the same time.
"Good morning, Russell and Charlotte."
Mrs. Hudson pulled over a chair and sat down.
"Just now, I think I heard the two of you discussing where you're going today?"
"To be precise, it's the question of what we should do today."
Charlotte asked, "Do you have any suggestions?"
"Indeed."
Mrs. Hudson nodded, then placed two tickets on the table.
"These are something my friend gave me yesterday when I went to meet her. I was planning to give them to you last night, but when I got back, you weren't on Baker Street."
Hearing this, both Russell and Charlotte turned to look. There were two theater tickets on the table.
"Theater?"
Russell picked up the two tickets and examined them carefully.
The tickets were printed with intricate patterns, and the program for tonight's show had "Dorothy" written in gold letters.
Below it was a line written in smaller text: Royal Opera House, 7:30 PM.
"What exactly is this 'Dorothy' about?"
Russell asked.
"A typical romantic comedy."
Mrs. Hudson said.
"A prodigal son who came to the countryside from London to escape debt meets a rich girl, Dorothy, who is disguised as a country girl, and the two fall in love at first sight.
They exchanged rings as proof of their love, but a series of comical events unfolded due to misunderstandings about each other's identities."
As she spoke, a faint nostalgia appeared on her face.
"I've seen it several times when I was young."
Russell looked at the two tickets in his hand, then looked up at Mrs. Hudson, and finally turned his gaze to Charlotte.
Charlotte was also looking at him.
There was no particular emotion in those gray-blue eyes. She simply calmly accepted his gaze, as though waiting for his reaction.
"What do you think?"
Russell handed her the ticket. "Do you want to go?"
Charlotte accepted the ticket and looked at it for a while.
"Dorothy…" She read the title of the play and furrowed her brows slightly. "Romantic comedy?"
"Hm, do you have some prejudice against this kind of subject matter?"
Russell asked with a smile.
"No prejudice."
Charlotte returned the ticket to the table.
"I just don't understand at all why people would spend hours watching people pretending to be lovers on stage."
Mrs. Hudson couldn't help but laugh.
"Charlotte," the old lady shook her head. "When it comes to love, sometimes you have to pretend to see things clearly.
The story on stage might be fiction, but the audience's feelings are completely real."
Charlotte was silent for a few seconds.
"What time does it start?"
"7:30."
Mrs. Hudson said, "You still have the entire afternoon to prepare."
Charlotte nodded and said nothing more.
…
At 6 PM, Russell and Charlotte arrived at the Royal Opera House in Covent Garden by carriage.
The entrance to the opera house was already crowded. Gentlemen and ladies in evening gowns were getting out of carriages and being guided by waiters into the magnificent hall.
Russell and Charlotte appeared at the entrance in the same formal attire they had worn when they were gifted from Buckingham Palace last time.
In truth, the two of them hadn't wanted to wear it, but they couldn't go against Mrs. Hudson's strong recommendation. She had said, "We can't lose face," so they had no choice but to wear it.
Night had fallen on Covent Garden. The lights of the Royal Opera House illuminated the entire street as though it were daytime.
Russell and Charlotte had just gotten out of the borrowed carriage and hadn't even had time to straighten their clothes before they were hit by a concentrated barrage of gazes from the crowd.
These gazes had initially arisen out of curiosity, simply drawn to the aura of the two.
But the moment they clearly saw Russell and Charlotte's faces, they froze on the spot and widened their eyes.
It wasn't just because their appearances were striking enough under the bright lighting in the hall. More importantly, these two faces were far too familiar to them.
Thanks to the photograph that had been published on the front page of The Times a few days ago, this young couple had suddenly become famous in London's high society.
"Is that… Miss Holmes?"
"The one from Baker Street? The one next to her is the assistant?"
"Don't tell me they actually came to see the show?"
Whispers filled with surprise, curiosity, and gossip poured in from all directions like a tide.
Russell stood there without changing his expression. Only after Charlotte got out of the carriage did he begin walking side by side with her toward the gate.
Charlotte walked half a step ahead, wearing a black evening gown that barely touched the ground. Every time she moved, black satin shoes peeked out.
The neckline was cut exquisitely, slightly revealing her beautiful neck. A thin silver chain hung above her collarbone, with a small sapphire pendant attached. It was something Mrs. Hudson had been given when she was young, and tonight it had been forcibly placed around her neck.
Her hair was styled differently from usual, gathered up in an updo and secured at the back of her head with a simple silver hairpin. From there, her gray-blue eyes and slightly aloof expression emerged.
Russell stood half a step behind her in a tailcoat. The two of them matched each other very well.
His gaze unconsciously drifted to her profile.
She was many times more beautiful than the normal Charlotte. It was as though she had stepped out of a painting.
She ignored those gazes, straightened her back, kept her eyes fixed straight ahead, and walked in high heels with the aura of a queen.
"What are you looking at?"
Charlotte turned her face and suddenly spoke without looking at him.
Russell paused for a moment before smiling.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
Charlotte tilted her head slightly and glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
"You stared at my profile for six seconds, then shifted your gaze downward for three seconds, and finally returned to my profile again. That's not something trivial at all."
"Can you stop always thinking in terms of logic?"
"I can't."
Charlotte looked away and continued walking.
Russell widened his eyes, then took a step forward and took Charlotte's hand.
This action was somewhat unexpected for Charlotte. She couldn't help but turn around and look at Russell.
"What are you doing?"
Russell shrugged and swept his gaze over the people around them.
"It seems like everyone else is doing it. The male partner has to support the female partner's arm."
Hearing this, Charlotte looked around and realized that it seemed to be true.
Some people didn't just link arms; they also placed their hands on the woman's waist or shoulder.
It was really quite ordinary. After all, people who went to the theater together to watch a romantic opera were usually couples, or at least very close friends.
Compared to that, Russell was rather restrained.
She felt a little uncomfortable with the sensation. It wasn't that she disliked being touched, but the feeling of being watched by so many people made her very uneasy.
Russell noticed Charlotte's reaction.
"If you're not used to it, you might as well give up."
As he spoke, he tried to withdraw his hand, but Charlotte quickly extended her other hand and grabbed Russell's arm.
"No."
She said in a somewhat awkward tone. The tips of her ears were slightly red, but it wasn't very noticeable in the dark.
"I didn't say I dislike it."
…