"I never rely on mystique or theatrics,"
Sherlock said regretfully as he looked at the four Ravenclaw girls.
"Though many clues have indeed been erased, the thief overestimated her abilities.
You've already provided enough information. I re-examined the crime scene thoroughly.
If I still couldn't deduce what happened in this dormitory, that would be truly strange."
At that moment, all three girls present felt the unshakable confidence radiating from Sherlock Holmes.
"First of all, Ravenclaw's common room is unique. Anyone who correctly answers the door knocker's riddle can enter freely.
At first glance, this might seem less secure than the fixed passwords of the other houses. But actually, it's the opposite.
As far as I know, most wizards lack deductive reasoning skills.
That's why this riddle-based method blocks most non-Ravenclaws from gaining entry.
Even if someone from another house could answer the riddle and get in, they'd likely be recognized.
Of course, nothing is absolute.
But this fact alone strengthens the logic that the thief came from within."
He paused for a beat.
"Second, before this incident, Ravenclaw students didn't bother locking their wardrobes."
The girls' expressions soured at that reminder.
It was this very incident that shattered the long-standing belief in "Ravenclaw's absolute security."
"With fixed storage positions, unlocked wardrobes, and Miss Chang's predictable schedule, the thief had plenty of convenience.
And during my examination, I found no signs of forced entry on the cabinet—not that it was necessary.
If I were Miss Chang's roommate, I could name at least seven ways to take the sandalwood box without her noticing.
By the time she discovered it missing, any traces would be long gone.
Even if another version of me came to investigate afterward, it would be useless.
—And in fact, that's exactly what the thief counted on."
Penelope couldn't help interjecting:
"Mr. Holmes, are you saying… the eyeshadow wasn't stolen while Cho was in Potions class?"
"Of course not,"
Sherlock replied with a faint smile, glancing at Alicia Keyes.
"If it were, this young lady's suspicion would be easily cleared."
"What do you mean by that?!"
Alicia Keyes abruptly stood up.
"Are you accusing me of stealing Cho's eyeshadow?"
Although Marietta Edgecombe remained seated, her glare toward Sherlock was anything but polite. Her words even less so:
"That's slander! Baseless, outright slander!
What kind of great detective are you supposed to be, Holmes? All talk and no substance!
You're nothing but a charlatan!"
"Miss Keyes, calm yourself."
Sherlock's voice remained as even as ever.
"While the eyeshadow was already gone before you tried to check on it,
your action created a problem for the thief—because she had assumed Cho Chang wouldn't notice until after the Easter break."
At those words, Alicia and Marietta exchanged uneasy glances.
"Could you not drop the conclusion halfway through like that?"
It made their earlier outrage seem quite… awkward.
Just then, Marietta seemed to recall something. She muttered:
"No way… that's impossible. Absolutely impossible."
"What is?"
Alicia asked quickly.
"It's nothing. I'm probably overthinking."
Marietta forced a smile.
"I just remembered that before Lucy left for the holidays, I overheard her mumbling something like, 'Why does she get to have such nice things...'
But I think she was talking about Gemma Farley's bottle of Felix Felicis.
Apparently, she did really well in Professor Snape's class and got a small vial as a reward. Lucy's been jealous ever since.
Besides, Snape always favors Slytherins. Even if we did exactly the same thing, we'd never be rewarded."
Penelope, Cho, and Alicia all nodded.
What Marietta said wasn't wrong. Aside from Slytherins, no one else had ever received a reward in Potions—
If you were from Gryffindor, not losing house points was already considered merciful.
Seeing the others agree, Marietta smiled slightly.
The seed of doubt had been planted—now it only needed time to grow and take root, eventually becoming a towering tree.
Unfortunately for her, the soil was about to be ripped away.
"SHERLOCK!"
Hermione's voice rang out from the common room entrance.
She stood panting in the doorway, one hand clutching the frame, chest heaving with every breath. Clearly exhausted—but her eyes were sparkling with excitement.
"My dear friend, looks like you really need to work on your stamina."
Sherlock gave her a quick once-over, then smiled. "So—you found it?"
Hermione nodded firmly and took a deep breath.
"As you predicted."
"Excellent! Brilliant!"
Sherlock praised her, then turned back to face the four Ravenclaw girls.
"That's enough."
All four of them looked shocked. Marietta's heart skipped a beat.
Penelope frowned. "Mr. Holmes? What do you mean… enough?"
"Pathetic acting, pitiful motive, sloppy execution…
I'm truly surprised you're still trying to bluff your way out of this."
Sherlock let out a soft sigh.
"Ravenclaw's famed wisdom… undone by the thorns growing wild in your heart. Isn't that right, Miss Marietta Edgecombe?"
The moment the words fell, Penelope, Cho, and Alicia all gasped.
They turned to Marietta with disbelief in their eyes.
Facing the stares of her prefect, roommate, and friend, Marietta feigned confusion.
"Mr. Holmes, I don't know what you're talking about..."
"Miss Edgecombe, there's no need for this innocent act."
Sherlock's tone grew colder. He clearly had no patience for her clumsy performance.
Hermione's arrival had provided the final piece of the puzzle—so it was time to lay the cards on the table.
"From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I knew the eyeshadow was in your possession."
"You're lying!"
Marietta leapt to her feet, eyes brimming with tears, looking as though she'd been grievously wronged.
The other three girls looked torn. Only Hermione, now standing beside Sherlock, had a look of pure disdain.
From Sherlock's earlier explanation, she now understood exactly what kind of person Marietta truly was.
Sherlock gently shook his head.
"You may not believe this, but before I ever entered the magical world,
I could deduce a person's thoughts from the tiniest muscle twitch or a flick of the eyes.
I could tell someone was a software engineer by the knot in their tie—or a commercial pilot from the callus on their thumb.
Luckily, those skills still work in the wizarding world."
He met their doubtful gazes with a quiet smile, then continued addressing Marietta:
"Even more fortunately—you're a terrible liar.
So the moment I saw you, I knew you were hiding something. And that what my client was searching for was in your hands."
Then, turning toward Penelope, Sherlock declared:
"Miss Penelope Clearwater—your request is complete.
The thief who took Miss Chang's eyeshadow is standing right beside you: Marietta Edgecombe."
Silence.
A long, heavy silence.
"Mr. Holmes… I don't quite understand…"
Penelope finally spoke, her tone uncertain—despite her reputation for intelligence, even she was a little lost.
You couldn't blame her—Sherlock had just dumped a truckload of information.
"It's alright. This little case has come to an end.
Now, I welcome all of your questions. I won't leave a single one unanswered."
Penelope glanced at the still-stunned Marietta, then took a deep breath.
"You said you knew it was her the moment you saw her?"
"Exactly."
"How?"
"Hmph. That fake sympathy on her face was an insult to my intelligence."
Sherlock sneered.
"When I questioned her, she pretended to be calm—but her eyes kept shifting, like a guilty cat caught red-pawed.
And when I questioned Miss Keyes, she jumped in to insist no Ravenclaw would ever steal—
Hardly the type to care so much about house pride, wouldn't you say?
Just now, when I mentioned there were seven ways to steal the eyeshadow, her breathing immediately quickened.
That involuntary physical response screamed guilt to anyone paying attention.
Even now—look—she's still unconsciously rubbing her sleeve. That's textbook anxiety."
Everyone turned to look. Sure enough, Marietta quickly dropped her right hand.
"Do you think I'm blind? Or do you really think you're clever enough to fool me?"
Sherlock leaned in close, his voice low and icy.
"Your biggest mistake wasn't stealing the eyeshadow.
It was believing you could outsmart me."
His words struck like a hammer. Marietta Edgecombe's face turned ghostly pale.
Faced with Sherlock's towering presence, her composure crumbled.
After all, she was just a thirteen-year-old girl—no match for Sherlock Holmes.
But she quickly snapped, shouting hysterically:
"Expressions, eyes, anxiety—those are just your guesses! You have no proof!"
"Oh? Quick-witted, aren't we?"
Sherlock chuckled.
"Of course—if that were all I had, even I wouldn't respect myself."
He turned to Cho:
"Miss Chang, please close the common room door. If anyone comes, ask them to wait.
Miss Clearwater, kindly keep an eye on Miss Edgecombe. If possible, use a restraining charm.
Miss Keyes—assist Miss Chang in making sure we're not interrupted. Don't worry—I'll wrap this up quickly."
Then, returning to his seat, Sherlock looked at the furious Marietta and continued calmly:
"No matter what, this is my first true case in the magical world—and it holds a special meaning for me.
The last one, with Miss Abbot, was ultimately resolved by the Ministry—though they never realized it.
This case may be simple, but it holds important lessons."
"Simple?"
Hermione blurted out.
The other girls—including Marietta—looked at him in disbelief.
They clearly didn't agree.
"Yes, very simple. There's no other word for it."
Seeing their astonished faces, Sherlock couldn't help but laugh.
"Think about it—other than a bit of help from my friend, all I needed was basic reasoning.
And I caught the culprit in a single day. That alone proves how simple it was."
"Well, when you put it like that..."
Hermione muttered. She had assumed it would take Sherlock several days—or even a week—to solve the case.
"Ladies, things that appear or sound unusual are rarely true obstacles. In fact, they're often clues.
The key to solving them is using backward reasoning—working in reverse from what you know.
It's a powerful and surprisingly easy skill.
Unfortunately, it's not used nearly enough.
In both the Muggle world and the wizarding one, forward reasoning is more common—so we tend to forget how to go backwards.
Since arriving here, I've found that among wizards, even out of fifty people, barely ten can use proper analytical reasoning."
"I am not a criminal!"
Marietta finally snapped again, unable to take Sherlock's grandstanding.
"You have no evidence!"
"You want evidence?"
Sherlock sneered.
"Fine. I'll give it to you."
---
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