"What do you mean?"
"There are photos on the table. See for yourself."
Charlotte pointed at the table.
Russell looked in the direction she pointed. Several photos were laid out on the table.
He casually picked one up. What the photo showed was that heist notice.
To be fair, even he himself had never seen what the heist notice sent out by the System looked like — and now he'd finally gotten a look.
He had to admit that, if he hadn't known he wasn't the one who'd done it, judging from the handwriting in the photo alone, even Russell would have to concede.
Alike. Far too alike.
The heist notice in the photo stated that he would revisit Buckingham Palace seven days later and return the music box to Princess Louise.
This didn't differ much from the mission the System had assigned him.
"So, Moriarty sent this letter to Buckingham Palace." Russell waved the photo in his hand.
"And Mycroft figured that, rather than going to all the trouble of hunting him down, it'd be better to set up defenses right inside Buckingham Palace and wait for Moriarty to come knocking himself?"
"That's exactly what he meant," Charlotte nodded.
"Then what does this have to do with you?" Russell was puzzled. "Catching someone isn't deduction — does he want you to check whether he's already slipped in ahead of time?"
"I won't deny that Mycroft may have that layer of consideration in mind," Charlotte said lightly.
"But more than that, perhaps he wants me to help catch that thief."
"You?"
"I've studied Bartitsu. When it comes to close-quarters Fighting, I do have a bit of combat ability," Charlotte said.
"Bartitsu..." Russell raised an eyebrow; he had indeed heard of this Fighting art.
But he'd always assumed it was just something akin to fitness exercise.
No matter how he thought about it, it couldn't be all that formidable.
He at least had a [Fighting B] himself; converting roughly, that pretty much made him an entry-level — even a professional — fighter.
If he went underground to fight illegal boxing matches now, even if he couldn't reach the level of a certain great filial son, making a name for himself would surely be no problem at all.
He'd even be more than qualified to apply for a security guard post at Buckingham Palace.
If his career as a Phantom Thief ever came to an end someday, he'd never have to worry about making a living.
"All right then." Russell didn't want to embarrass Charlotte.
In any case, there was no way he could truly hurt her, so he'd just let her have her way.
"Well, good luck then. I hope you bring that detestable thief to justice on the spot."
"What do you mean?" Charlotte furrowed her brow. "You're not coming?"
"Nobody invited me, so why would I go join in the fun? Does it earn course credits? Or count as volunteer hours?"
"I've already arranged it with Mycroft — you'll accompany me as my assistant when the time comes."
Charlotte said this in a tone that brooked no argument.
"???"
Russell was stunned for a moment. "What am I supposed to do there? For one, I can't fight; for two, I can't track people down. Am I going to be the cheerleading squad?"
"As long as you can get your legs moving to run and open your mouth to call for people, that'll do. You don't need to be able to do anything else."
Charlotte said, then paused and asked again, "What, do you have something else on this Sunday?"
"Uh... no." Russell shook his head.
At a time like this, rather than fabricating some excuse, it was better to be honest, so as not to arouse unnecessary suspicion.
Besides...
"It's only Monday today," Russell said. "I can't foresee what'll happen six days from now — what if something comes up, hmm?"
"There won't be any such 'what if,'" Charlotte stated with certainty.
"On what grounds do you get to define my schedule?"
"On the grounds of how you've spent every single weekend in the month since I moved in." Charlotte looked at Russell.
"Do I need to remind you? This month, on weekends, you went out only a scant two times.
Once for Imperial College's Icebreaker Party, and once for your date with Mary at the Phedon Tea Room a couple of days ago.
Oh, and one more time — you went to Lloyds Bank to deposit money. Apart from those, can you name any more?"
Russell was momentarily at a loss for words.
Annoyed as he was, he couldn't seem to find any grounds to refute her.
Damn it, how does she understand me better than I understand myself?
"Fine, fine, you win." In the end, he could only spread his hands helplessly and raise the white flag.
"But let me make this clear in advance — when the time comes, I'm only there to be a background prop. Don't count on me for the actual work."
"If everything goes smoothly, you won't have to do a thing — and you'll even get to taste a Buckingham Palace dinner," Charlotte said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"And what about my overtime pay?"
"Go ask Mycroft for it. I don't think he'd be stingy about that much." Charlotte picked up her coffee, blew on it, then added:
"And while you're at it, ask for my share too."
"Heh." Russell rolled his eyes and stopped courting more rebuffs.
He watched as Charlotte turned her attention back to that information wall, her focused profile as full of beauty as a sculpture.
"Honestly, I still feel there must be some connection between Moriarty and The Professor," Charlotte murmured to herself.
"But I can't find any evidence," she said with a frown.
"But didn't you just confirm that there's a cooperative relationship between Moriarty and Mycroft?" Russell said from the side.
"Moriarty can be linked to The Professor, and he can be linked to Mycroft too, but no matter how you look at it, these three just can't be connected together."
"That's exactly where the problem lies," Charlotte said.
"Unless Mycroft simply isn't aware of the relationship between them."
"So then, does Mycroft know of The Professor's existence?" Russell asked.
"He does, but unfortunately he doesn't know much. During the period when The Professor was active, he never posed any threat to Mycroft, so naturally Mycroft never paid him much mind."
Charlotte paced back and forth across the room. Clearly, this unsolvable puzzle had driven her into some kind of mental dead end.
Though she claimed not to care, it was still very hard for her to truly, genuinely not care.
Watching Charlotte stuck in such a hair-splitting state, Russell let out a helpless sigh.
If he let her keep boring into it like this, she'd probably end up pulling another all-nighter tonight.
That was no good omen.
After all, a sleep-deprived Charlotte's level of difficulty grew exponentially.
What if she actually achieved Baker Street enlightenment?
"Perhaps," he cleared his throat, trying to pull her attention out of that dead end, "we could try a different line of thinking."
At his words, Charlotte halted her steps and tilted her head, those gray-blue eyes carrying a trace of puzzlement and scrutiny.
"What line of thinking?"
"Since we currently can't determine the specific relationship among the three of them — The Professor, Moriarty, and Mycroft," Russell said, then walked over to the information wall, picked up a marker, wrote three names in a blank area, and connected them with lines.
"Then why don't we first assume that there's actually no relationship between them at all?"
As he spoke, he then crossed out all the lines connecting the three names.
"No relationship at all?" Charlotte frowned; this assumption clearly ran counter to her earlier deductions.
"Right, no relationship at all." Russell nodded, and meeting her skeptical gaze, he continued:
"Look, both Moriarty and The Professor appeared at Lloyds Bank — that's a fact. But could this matter itself be explained as pure coincidence?
For instance, The Professor wanted to stir up trouble, and Moriarty wanted to stir up trouble too, and then, without any prior arrangement, they both happened to set their sights on the same target — Lloyds Bank.
'Hypothesize boldly, verify carefully' — that's what you taught me, remember?"
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