"A small accident?"
Lestrade's voice rose several decibels.
"Could someone please translate what 'a small accident' means?"
"A minor accident means… a really small accident. You understand, right?"
"Translate, translate."
Lestrade stared fixedly at Russell, his tone and posture exactly like a father about to explode with rage.
"What the hell does 'a small accident' mean?!"
"It was just a minor accident."
Russell cleared his throat and met Lestrade's sharp gaze.
"Billson is dead."
"…Who did you say died?"
"Billson."
"Which Billson?"
"I think only Billson could elicit such a strong reaction from you."
Russell said.
Lestrade's expression instantly shifted from anger to shock and then to disbelief.
Then he slammed his hand on the table and stood up from his chair.
"This is ridiculous!"
Lestrade looked at the two men's faces.
"How did he die? Did you kill him?!"
"Of course not."
Charlotte widened her eyes.
"How did he die?"
"He was silenced by the Professor's subordinates."
Russell said.
Upon hearing that name, Lestrade's shock finally subsided.
He looked around, then sat back down in his chair.
"The Professor?"
Russell and Charlotte nodded.
"Tell me the full story in detail."
Lestrade said with a serious expression.
From beginning to end.
Hearing this, Russell took a deep breath and began recounting everything that had happened that night.
This included how Charlotte had deduced from Baker Street that Billson was hiding at Clement Street No. 27, how the two of them had departed, infiltrated the mansion, confronted Billson, and how the Professor's subordinate had ultimately appeared and shot Billson.
He recounted everything in great detail.
Upon hearing this, Lestrade stood there stunned for a long time.
Looking at the two partners in front of him—far too young and prone to causing trouble—he momentarily didn't know what to say.
In the end, all his emotions transformed into a long sigh.
"What a mess…" He sank deeply into his chair and rubbed his aching temples.
"I'd rather be asked to work overtime than hear news like this."
Lestrade said wearily.
"So, you not only broke into a haunted house and fought a wanted criminal, but you also witnessed a cover-up operation, and then my subordinates arrested you as suspects?"
"Hmm… If you summarize it that way, I can't say it's wrong, right?"
Russell nodded.
Lestrade's expression changed several times. He seemed to want to say something but swallowed his words.
In the end, the only sentence he could manage to squeeze out was:
"Can't you at least let me rest for just one day…?"
"At least on the surface, this case can be considered resolved."
Russell reassured him.
"With Billson's death, the Hannigan case is closed, and we should be able to publicly explain the Lloyds Bank case as well."
Even if we couldn't capture him, the body was found within your jurisdiction, and the Professor isn't going to come forward and claim credit, right?
"Thank you both so much!"
Lestrade said irritably.
"What about the Professor?"
He asked, "Billson is dead. What are you planning to do?"
"The only one left is Charles Brown."
Charlotte said.
"I recommend increasing the number of personnel monitoring that area for the time being."
"I already know that without you telling me."
Lestrade said.
"Besides, we've never publicly revealed Charles Brown's affair. No matter how powerful the Professor is, he can't know everything, right?"
"I can't say for sure."
Russell shrugged. "What if?"
"Well, let's drop that topic for now."
Lestrade waved his hand. "Did you see who fired the shot?"
"You'll have to ask Watson about that."
When Charlotte said this, Lestrade's gaze naturally turned to Russell.
"I couldn't see clearly."
Russell shook his head.
"The man was dressed entirely in black with a hat and was hiding in the shadows. After firing, he immediately jumped out the window and fled."
"That person was an expert marksman who could accurately hit the center of an enemy's eyebrow from seven meters away in complete darkness."
Charlotte added.
"Got it… got it…" Lestrade weakly waved his hand and asked as if remembering something.
"What about Emily Collins? She should still be alive, right? Don't tell me she died too."
"Rest assured, she's still alive."
Russell stated, "She's not in a good mental state."
"Mental state…" Lestrade furrowed his brows as if he had thought of something bad.
"She's not crazy, just a little…" Russell said. "Just a little… or rather, her views on love have collapsed."
"If she's not crazy, that's a good thing."
Lestrade let out a sigh of relief, as if his energy had recovered slightly.
"Does she know anything?"
"Who knows? We didn't talk to her much."
Charlotte said.
"However, I don't think she knows much either. She might not even know Billson's true identity."
"Better than knowing nothing."
Lestrade stood up. "Alright, leave the rest to me. You should head back now."
He waved his hand, then opened the door to the interrogation room and signaled for the two men to come out.
"Don't forget to pay the consulting fee."
Charlotte said while standing up, emphasizing the point.
"I know."
Lestrade sighed, then looked at Russell.
"Don't forget to take a shower when you get back."
"I know."
Russell shrugged and irritably scratched his hair.
It was sticky.
The two left Scotland Yard late at night.
The streets of London were deserted, and only the dim yellow glow of gas lamps shone lonely in the distant cold wind.
"What do we do now?"
Russell put both hands in his pockets and exhaled white breath.
"There probably aren't any carriages left at this hour. Looks like we'll have to walk back."
"Then let's go."
Charlotte put both hands in her pockets and pulled her collar up higher.
And so the two walked side by side down the empty streets.
Footsteps echoed on the deserted street—clear yet lonely.
Russell walked on the side closest to the road.
This was an unconscious action of his. It was something he had been taught by Director Martha back at the orphanage.
When walking on the road, girls should walk on the inner side so that passing carriages wouldn't splash mud on their skirts.
Even though no carriages were passing at all, and even though Charlotte wasn't wearing a dress today, he still did it.
Charlotte walked beside him like a quiet shadow, maintaining about half a step's distance.
She was walking a little slower than usual. Perhaps she was tired, or perhaps the night streets were perfect for a leisurely stroll.
She said nothing, simply gazing at her own toes, staring fixedly at them as they alternated on the cobblestones.
Her black curly hair, slightly disheveled from the fight, swayed gently with her movements.
A few strands of hair hung down beside her cheeks, hiding her expression.
A gust of wind blew through, making it even colder than before.
The distance from Scotland Yard to Baker Street was neither too long nor too short—just right.
During the day, it would take about forty minutes on foot.
But on a quiet, empty night, it seemed to stretch endlessly, with no end in sight.
The shops along the street had already closed, and only the streetlights on both sides stood like eyes, quietly watching the young couple returning home late at night.
A faint mixture of wine and rusty scent clung to Russell's hair and clothes.
He didn't like that smell very much.
"Are you tired?"
Russell suddenly spoke, breaking the long silence.
Hearing this, Charlotte shook her head.
"I'm not tired."
She said her voice was very small and would disappear if the wind blew.
"Who was the one yawning at Scotland Yard earlier?"
Russell smiled.
"…That's a physiological phenomenon."
Charlotte retorted, then quickly overtook Russell and walked ahead of him.
She walked with her head slightly lowered, both hands in her pockets, but because of the oversized black coat, she looked even thinner.
From behind, she looked like a stubborn child sulking at an adult.
Russell watched her retreating figure, said nothing, simply smiled, and quickly caught up to walk beside her again.
The two walked in silence, passing through street after street.
Then, just as Charlotte was about to cross an intersection, she suddenly stopped.
"What's wrong?"
Charlotte said nothing and simply turned her face away.
She stood at the edge of the streetlight's glow. Half her face was illuminated, the other half hidden in shadow.
Those gray-blue eyes were looking at him. And in that gaze, there was something—very faint, very subtle.
She simply stared at him without saying a word.
Russell looked at her but still said nothing.
In that moment, time seemed to flow slowly.
He could feel their breathing and the beating of their two hearts melting into the darkness of the night.
"You said…" Charlotte opened her mouth as if about to say something.
But the words caught in her throat, and she swallowed them.
Wind blew between them, carrying the crisp air unique to late night and the scent of someone's fireplace smoke drifting from afar.
"...Nothing."
She simply shook her head, turned around, and continued walking.
"Let's go."
She said in a very small voice.
The girl walked away quickly, as if fleeing from something.
…
…
PS: Please support me and read advanced chapters at patreon.com/AbsoluteCode