After lingering a while in the garden, the two of them rose and made their way back indoors.
The corridor was laid with a thick, dark-colored carpet that absorbed the sound of their footsteps utterly clean as they walked upon it.
On the walls to either side hung portraits of generations of monarchs, the figures within wearing solemn expressions, as if silently watching over this young man and woman returning in the dead of night.
Warm light spilled down from overhead, driving away the chill—yet it could not drive away certain things that could not be seen.
Charlotte said nothing, only walking quietly, keeping perhaps half a body's length ahead.
The tailcoat jacket draped over her shoulders looked somewhat too large for her; seen from behind, she resembled a child who had sneaked into a grown-up's clothes.
Russell followed behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets, admiring that faintly awkward figure of hers from the back.
"Ahem..."
In the end, it was Charlotte who first broke that somewhat awkward—or rather, somewhat ambiguous—silence.
She halted her steps, turned around, glanced at Russell, and then took the coat off her shoulders to return it to him.
"Here, take it back."
Charlotte's voice sounded as though it had already recovered its usual calm; only those gray-blue eyes, which seemed somewhat unsteady beneath the lamplight, betrayed with utter honesty the girl's inner disquiet at this moment.
"You can wear it a while longer, I don't mind," Russell said, making no move to reach for it.
"No need, it's warm indoors." As she spoke, Charlotte pushed the coat into his arms.
Russell went along with it and draped the coat over himself, then continued walking onward alongside her, until the two of them arrived at the guest-room wing prepared for them.
"Well then, let's call it a night for today." Charlotte stopped before her own door.
"Mm." Russell gave a slight nod and reached out to push the door open. "Get some rest."
Just as he was about to push the door open and step inside, the girl's voice rang out at his ear once more.
"Watson."
"Hm?"
"Tomorrow night..." Charlotte's voice paused, as if weighing her words.
"Just look after yourself first."
Having said that, she gave Russell no time to react, pushing the door open and stepping straight inside, then reaching back to shut the door behind her.
Russell stood there blankly for a moment, then gave a faint smile.
"Good night, young lady."
He said softly to the closed door, then went into his own room.
The night passed without a single dream.
The next day.
Russell was awakened by the maids' knocking at the door.
He opened his eyes groggily, rolled over in bed, and gazed at the unfamiliar ceiling, lost in a moment of vacant thought, when the System's interface surfaced before his eyes.
[Countdown: 16 hours]
After washing up and changing his clothes, Russell stepped out of his room.
Buckingham Palace today clearly had a different atmosphere from yesterday.
An intangible air of oppression hung in the air.
The attendants and guards in the corridors had visibly increased in number, and every face wore a gravity as though facing a powerful enemy.
"Good morning, Mr. Watson."
A maid was already waiting at the door, giving Russell a slight bow.
"Miss Holmes is already waiting for you in the dining room. Would you like me to take you there?"
"Mm, thank you for the trouble." Russell nodded.
In the dining room, Charlotte was already seated.
"Morning." Russell walked over, then picked up the menu and casually ordered some simple breakfast.
Only then did he let his gaze fall upon Charlotte.
That black evening gown had been changed for the trench coat she had worn when she first arrived, and her long, loosely flowing curls had been gathered into a neat high ponytail, lending her a few more touches of dashing spirit.
"You're up rather early today."
"Couldn't sleep." Charlotte was succinct.
"Thinking about the Moriarty business?"
"I'm thinking about where he'll come in from." Charlotte set down her coffee cup, her gaze passing through the enormous floor-to-ceiling window to look off into the distance.
"Mycroft has blocked off nearly every entrance one could think of, and tripled the density of the patrols around the perimeter.
Unless he can actually fly... it would be very hard for him to slip into the princess's room without alerting anyone."
"And what if he really can fly?" Russell took a sip of coffee and asked offhandedly.
"Even if he really could fly, it still wouldn't work." Charlotte shook her head. "The moment he appears, he's bound to be discovered."
"From the sound of it, you seem rather confident in Mycroft's arrangements."
Russell looked at her curiously. "Aren't you afraid that Mycroft might, somewhere you don't know about, leave a back door open for Moriarty?"
"These places were arranged by him and me together, and I inspected them in person as well—there's nothing wrong with them."
Charlotte said, "What's more, from what I know of Mycroft, he shouldn't do the same thing a second time."
Russell nodded in deep agreement, then began to eat his breakfast.
Buckingham Palace's breakfast lived up to its reputation indeed.
Once he had finished his breakfast, Russell contentedly picked up his coffee and looked toward Charlotte.
"So, when does my task begin?"
"When Her Highness wakes." Charlotte said. "Once Her Highness is awake, you must stay by her side at all times."
"From morning till...?"
"From morning till night."
"Understood."
Russell nodded, then set down his coffee cup and stood up.
"I'm going to the restroom."
"Mm." Charlotte nodded.
Russell walked into the restroom, then slowly closed the door.
Next, he called up the System panel and spent a thousand Malice Points to purchase a Teleport Anchor.
[Teleport Anchor purchased. Malice Points balance: 2900]
As the sound of the deduction flashed past his ear, a small, compact device appeared in his hand.
Without the slightest hesitation, Russell gently placed the anchor in an utterly inconspicuous corner of the restroom, and only after confirming that it would not be easily discovered did he set his mind at ease.
Then, a thought stirred in his mind.
A familiar sense of weightlessness instantly enveloped his entire body; the scene before his eyes, like pigment dropped into water, swiftly distorted, blurred, and recomposed itself.
In the mere blink of an eye, when he opened his eyes once more, the surroundings were no longer that luxurious, elegant restroom of Buckingham Palace.
In its place was that bedroom he could not have known better—his very own, on the second floor of 221B Baker Street.
The early morning sunlight spilled in through the window, and a trace of his own not-yet-dissipated scent still lingered in the air.
"Perfect."
Russell wasted no time. He strode quickly to the bedside table, pulled open the drawer, and took out that music box—the one he had already repaired and carefully gift-wrapped.
He tucked the music box gingerly into the inner pocket of his trench coat, then once again activated the teleport.
Light and shadow flowed and shifted, and when he steadied himself once more, he had already returned to that quiet restroom in Buckingham Palace.
The entire process was as smooth as flowing water, so swift it would not even arouse anyone's suspicion.
Russell straightened his collar in front of the mirror, and only after confirming there was not a single flaw did he push open the door and stroll out unhurriedly.
In the dining room, Charlotte still sat in her original seat, head lowered, drinking her coffee.
"Done?" She lifted her head and shot Russell a glance.
"What else," Russell said, sitting down across from her. "It was just washing my hands—I could hardly take half an hour over it."
Charlotte said nothing more, only turning her attention back to her coffee.
Russell, for his part, enjoyed this rare, leisurely breakfast hour with an easy conscience.
The two of them sat quietly like that, until a maid appeared soundlessly at the dining room doorway.
"Miss Holmes, Mr. Watson," she gave a slight bow.
"Her Highness is awake."
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