"Name?"
"Russel Watson"
"Charlotte Holmes."
"Age?"
"20."
"19."
"Occupation?"
"Student."
"Detective consultant."
Inside the interrogation room, the officer conducting the questioning looked up at the unusually young couple visible through the glass and furrowed his brows.
The light from the oil lamp brightly illuminated one corner of the narrow interrogation room, casting half-shadow and half-light on the couple's faces.
The man sat deeply in his chair, his expression relatively calm, but his clothes bore large dark stains and carried a faint scent of wine.
The woman sat with her back straight, both hands in her pockets. The cuffs of her black coat were torn, and her hair was slightly disheveled. She seemed completely unaware of the situation she was in.
Yet her eyes—those gray-blue eyes—met his gaze calmly, without the slightest sign of panic.
The officer glanced back down at the preliminary information in his notebook.
Clement Street No. 27 in Southwark was Hannigan's residence and also the scene of the crime.
The deceased was a man, later confirmed to be the fugitive suspect Billson.
The incident was reported by a patrolling officer who rushed over after hearing gunshots. However, because the mansion's gate was locked, he had to enlist the help of several colleagues to force the door open.
The body was found on the second floor, and the suspects were discovered in the basement.
When they were found, they were still holding weapons and surrounding a woman huddled on the sofa. The woman was clearly in an abnormal mental state.
Generally speaking, at this stage, the appropriate procedure would be to arrest them and interrogate them thoroughly.
A young couple sneaking into a haunted house in the middle of the night instead of staying home, and killing a suspect… what a bizarre story.
However, upon hearing the other party state their name, the officer couldn't help but feel a slight unease.
Charlotte Holmes of Baker Street.
Detective consultant for Scotland Yard.
Anyone who worked at Scotland Yard had heard this name, but whether they had actually seen her was an entirely different matter.
He recalled that last week, while drinking tea in the lounge, a colleague had mentioned the name. It had apparently been in the newspapers as well.
She looked like an ordinary female university student, but her crime-solving ability was said to surpass that of veteran detectives with twenty years of field experience.
Lestrade listened to her words, and whenever something was needed, he thought of her first.
"Charlotte Holmes…"
He slowly repeated the name, his tone somewhat hesitant.
"The one on Baker Street?"
"I doubt you'd want the one on Belville Street sitting here."
Charlotte said.
The officer fell silent for a few seconds.
"Please wait a moment," he said. "I need to confirm something."
"Of course, go ahead."
Russell nodded.
The officer set down his pen, stood up, and left the interrogation room. Only a somewhat hurried figure remained behind.
The room instantly fell silent.
"This is my first time coming to Scotland Yard."
Russell broke the silence and looked around the narrow, stuffy room.
The walls were a monotonous grayish-white, thick dust had accumulated in the corners, and the air was filled with the smell of rust and mold.
"I never imagined that the first time I'd come here would be as a suspect."
Russell spoke with deep emotion.
"How do you feel?"
"I thought there'd be pork chop rice for a late-night snack."
Russell shrugged. "They didn't even offer me a cup of tea."
"Be satisfied."
Charlotte smiled. "At least we weren't brought here in handcuffs."
"That's true."
Russell avoided making a clear statement and stretched his slightly aching muscles.
It was right after sparring with Billson, so his muscles felt a slight discomfort.
"What about you?"
He looked at Charlotte and said, "Do you know this place?"
"When I first came here, Lestrade arrested me on suspicion of tampering with a crime scene and forging documents."
Charlotte sank deeply into her chair and spoke in a nostalgic voice.
"At the time, he confidently declared that he would definitely bring me here someday."
"And then what happened?"
"As a result, he ended up not only inviting me courteously but also having to pay consulting fees."
Charlotte said with a slight smile on her lips.
"Don't forget to demand payment from him later. Billson is dead, but at least we caught him."
She reminded him.
Russell looked at her and couldn't help but laugh.
However, although they were laughing, the laughter quickly faded.
Billson was dead.
The lead they had in their hands had been snatched away right before their eyes.
"When did that man come in…?" Russell muttered.
"Was he hiding there from the beginning? How could he have been so certain that Billson would definitely flee to that location?"
"Probably they had been following us."
Charlotte said.
"While we were fighting Billson in the basement, he snuck in and hid on the second floor."
"If we had subdued Billson, we would definitely have had to escort him out through the main entrance.
At that moment, all he had to do was aim at Billson and pull the trigger. Just like shooting a target".
"But even if we had accidentally killed Billson, it would have been easy for him. He wouldn't even need to show his face."
"We were deceived."
Russell sighed. "How could the Professor have been thinking the same thing as you?"
"Who knows?"
Charlotte said irritably.
Silence returned to the interrogation room. It was unclear how much time had passed, but the door to the interrogation room was pushed open again.
This time, Lestrade entered.
He looked as though he had just been abruptly woken from bed. His hair was disheveled, and his complexion was terrible.
"Ah, Charlotte, I finally got some time off."
He began complaining the moment he entered. "What have you done this time?"
Lestrade pulled up a chair and sat heavily in front of the two men. When he saw Russell beside her, the crease between his brows deepened further.
"Russell, I trusted you so much, yet you went along with her ridiculous story!"
"I had no choice…" Russell muttered.
Lestrade sighed and shifted his gaze back and forth between the two.
Seeing the large wine stains and faint blood traces on Russell's clothes, as well as Charlotte's battered appearance, the crease between his brows deepened even more.
"Did you get into a fight?"
"Didn't your subordinates tell you?"
"I came here immediately after hearing that Charlotte had been detained," Lestrade said while rubbing his temples.
"So, what exactly happened?"
"In simple terms, we went to capture a wanted criminal."
Russell said.
"And then a small accident occurred."
Charlotte added.
…
…
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