Mary was silent for a moment.
Russell was looking at her. His black eyes held a smile, shining under the sunlight.
She belatedly realized what was happening and felt the tips of her ears turn faintly pink.
"Silver-tongued…" she muttered softly. There was an almost imperceptible trace of embarrassment and panic in her voice.
The girl quickly walked to the small round table, lightly tapped the chair next to it, and said, "Come on, sit down."
As she spoke, she began pouring tea and placed a cup in front of Russell.
"Try it. It's Darjeeling, so I'm sure you'll like it."
"Honestly, I can't say whether I like or dislike tea," Russell said while picking up the teacup and looking at Mary. "It mostly depends on who poured it for me."
Mary paused for a moment with the teapot in her hand, then raised her face and glared at him. There seemed to be a faint warning in her eyes.
Russell shrugged, picked up the teacup, and took a sip.
A refreshing tea aroma spread through his mouth with a subtle fruity note. It wasn't a strong scent, but the aftertaste lingered.
"How is it?"
Mary asked.
"Very delicious."
Russell nodded and took another sip.
Mary smiled in satisfaction, poured a drink into a glass, picked up small tongs to place one scone on her own plate, then placed another in front of Russell.
"Try this too. It's freshly baked."
And so, the two of them enjoyed their afternoon tea in this world enveloped by sunlight and the scent of flowers.
They chatted, but the conversation had neither boundaries nor logic.
One moment they were gossiping about other students and teachers at Imperial College, the next they were talking about a scandal involving a wealthy woman in the Fleet Street newspapers, then moving on to London's unpredictably rainy season, and finally discussing wonderful verses hidden on page 37 of a poetry collection.
They can talk about anything, and anything is worth talking about.
Mary was both a good listener and a good talker. When Russell spoke, she sat quietly like a sunflower listening, gazing at the man across from her as though he were the sun.
When Russell paused, she naturally took over the conversation and began recounting anecdotes she had heard at salons. The little stories about nobles that came from her mouth were always just the right amount of interesting—neither too noisy nor boring.
In truth, what you talk about in front of someone you like doesn't matter. It can be ordinary daily conversation, celebrity gossip, or trivial matters.
What's important isn't the topic itself, but having someone beside you who patiently listens, or listening to the other person yourself.
After afternoon tea, she intended to find some excuse to go out—whether to the theater or a café, anywhere they could be alone together—and then have dinner together. She had never had dinner with him before.
After dinner, the family carriage would come to pick them up.
They would take the carriage to Baker Street first to drop him off, then return home themselves. By then, her father probably wouldn't have returned yet and wouldn't know what had happened that day.
Even if he later asked after hearing about it from the butler, she would simply answer casually.
The housekeeper would only explain what happened today and wouldn't say anything more detailed.
That was how it was supposed to be. Today's date was supposed to be perfect, exactly as planned.
Through this experience, she could lay the foundation for the next opportunity, and the one after that. When the time came, her bedroom might come in handy.
In the bedroom, she had wanted to pull Russell down to lie down with her, but in the end she hadn't. Shame had ultimately won, but there would be another chance.
Before she knew it, the teapot was empty.
"Wait a moment. I'll have someone make another pot of tea."
Mary stood up and called for Mel.
However, before she could speak, Mel brought her bad news—news that would ruin all the joy and happiness of the day.
"Miss, the master will be returning soon."
Hearing this, Mary furrowed her brows slightly. "Why?"
"Well… I don't know. The master sent someone to inform us that he'll be having dinner at home tonight."
Mel said this, then glanced at the teapot in Mary's hand.
"Would you like more tea? I'll go right away."
"No, it's fine."
Mary shook her head but still handed the teapot to her.
"Is today's meeting over?"
"Mm."
Mary nodded. "I'll see him off one last time. And don't forget to clean up the afternoon tea."
"Yes, Miss."
Mel nodded without asking anything further. As a servant, there were things she didn't need to ask. She only needed to do as she was told.
After Mel left, Mary turned and walked back to Russell.
Russell looked up at the girl in front of him. She was still smiling, but there was something else in that smile. It was no longer a pure smile.
It was as though several thick clouds had appeared on a clear, bright day, blocking the sunlight.
"What's wrong?"
Russell set down his teacup and looked at her. "What happened?"
"Nothing."
Mary smiled and shook her head. "Staying at home all the time suddenly makes me feel suffocated."
As she spoke, she naturally took Russell's hand.
"The weather is so nice. Let's go for a walk."
Looking into those eyes filled with a mix of expectation and enthusiasm, Russell ultimately said nothing and simply nodded obediently.
"Understood."
He laughed and said, "I was just thinking of going for a walk myself."
"Then let's go."
Mary smiled and pulled Russell out of the glass greenhouse.
Instead of leading him through the porch that connected to the front entrance, she took a side path around the main building and through the garden.
"Where are we going?"
Russell asked.
"Hmm… shall we go on an adventure?"
Mary turned around and winked at him. Her eyes sparkled.
"Adventure?"
"Mm."
She pulled Russell along, her steps growing lighter and lighter.
Russell looked at her cheerful figure, her fluttering skirt and hair, and unconsciously followed behind her.
The two of them held hands like two children skipping school, or like eloping lovers, and slipped out through a side door of the Morstan residence, escaping from that magnificent cage.
Outside, it was still bright. The winter sun illuminated Kensington's streets, softening the biting cold.
Mary walked ahead at a brisk pace. From beneath her fluttering skirt, her long, slender calves wrapped in black stockings were revealed, and her boots made crisp sounds against the cobblestones.
"So, where are we headed?"
Russell asked.
"I told you I don't know."
Mary said without turning around.
"You don't know at all?"
"Hmm, I don't know!"
Her voice carried a playful laugh, making it impossible to associate this moment with the impeccable, polite Miss Morstan.
In Russell's eyes, she was simply a teenage girl running around, laughing, and being lively.
As she ran across the square, a flock of pigeons searching for food took flight in surprise. The pigeons flapped their wings and soared into the sky, startling the people who had been leisurely sunbathing in the square.
"Slow down!" Russell shouted.
"I don't need to!"
Mary turned around and made a face at him but didn't stop walking. "If we're too slow, we'll get caught and dragged back!"
"Who's going to arrest you?"
"Father! The butler! And those damn rules!"
As she spoke, she ran even faster.
The wind blew through the girl's long silver hair, drawing free arcs in the air.
"Where are you taking me?"
Russell asked again.
"I told you I don't know!"
Mary answered with a loud laugh. Her voice was clear and pure, like wind chimes.
She simply pulled him along, running instinctively in the direction away from that magnificent mansion, without any destination or direction in mind.
They ran through bustling shopping streets. Dazzling goods lined the shop windows on both sides.
Women carrying paper bags stepped aside in surprise. Gentlemen who had been chatting frowned and shook their heads as they watched their retreating figures, but none of it mattered.
Just as the two passed by a small church, the bell tower rang. Its deep sound echoed in the sky. Mary glanced up briefly before running again. Her silver hair swayed with the sound of the bells.
They ran through the park. Though the trees had lost their leaves in winter, children were chasing and playing on the grass. The children spotted them, paused for a moment, then a little boy walked toward them. They waved.
Mary waved back at them. The gesture was so natural, as though she had done it many times before.
But she clearly hadn't.
The entire world seemed like a rapidly receding background behind them.
They ran for so long that they no longer knew how much time had passed. Eventually, both of them were breathing heavily, and their initial excitement gradually faded.
Mary finally stopped, bent over with her hands on her knees, breathing hard, her chest rising and falling dramatically.
Her heart was pounding so violently it felt like it might burst from her chest, but whether it was from running or something else, she didn't know.
"I'm so tired… completely exhausted…"
She bent over, still gripping his hand tightly, refusing to let go.
Russell was also out of breath, but physically he was in better shape than Mary. Looking at her, he couldn't help but laugh.
The two of them sat down on a roadside bench to rest.
The surroundings were quiet. Only the occasional sound of breathing could be heard.
"This is my first time running like this."
Mary looked up at the gray sky and suddenly said.
"Hm?"
Russell turned his face to look at her profile.
"I was taught from a young age to behave like a lady.
Women should walk slowly, speak quietly, never show their teeth when smiling, and running is strictly forbidden."
She said slowly. "That's why I've never run before, let alone run like that—ignoring everything and just running desperately."
She said this, then turned to face him.
"Thank you, Russell."
"What are you thanking me for?"
"Thank you for running with me."
She smiled and said. "Thank you for not asking why, for not stopping me, and for just running with me."
Hearing this, Russell also laughed.
"You're welcome."
He said.
The two looked at each other. Then Mary slowly leaned closer to him.
As they drew nearer, their pupils gradually reflected only each other, slowly obscuring the rest of the scenery. Their ragged breaths mingled.
But at the final moment, Mary's dazed eyes cleared again. She suddenly turned her head and sat up straight.
Russell was slightly taken aback.
"I'm sorry… Russell."
Mary said quietly in an apologetic voice.
"Not yet… now isn't the right time."
She turned around and looked at Russell with her blue eyes. In those eyes was a desire a hundred—no, a thousand—times stronger than his own, yet it seemed to be held back by something.
"Please give me a little more time."
She spoke quietly, as though making a solemn promise.
"Just a little more time. Then I'll show you…"
"Show me what?"
Russell asked.
"The real me."
The moment the girl finished speaking, the surroundings suddenly fell silent.
A gentle breeze blew from the edge of the street, tousling her silver hair and brushing against Russell's face, carrying the scent of white tea.
Russell looked at her. Mary had lowered her head slightly. Her breathing still hadn't completely calmed, and her chest rose and fell gently. The golden cat's-eye brooch shimmered faintly with her breaths.
Just as he was about to say something, he suddenly felt a cold sensation on his face.
Mary raised her face. Raindrops fell on the tip of her nose, bringing a faint coolness.
Then a second drop fell on her forehead, followed by a third and fourth——
Large, dark clouds had gathered heavily in the sky. Faint rays of sunlight struggled to shine through the gaps, as though bidding a final farewell.
"It's raining."
Mary said quietly.
The moment she finished speaking, as though her words were a signal, heavy rain began to pour.
It started with just a few drops, but in an instant it became a downpour.
Raindrops struck the cobblestones, creating small splashes and a fast, rhythmic sound.
People walking on the street panicked. Some sought shelter under eaves, while others held newspapers over their heads. The previously quiet street instantly became lively.
Mary remained seated on the bench, enduring the pouring rain.
The rain soaked her fluffy silver hair. Her carefully styled waves clung to her cheeks and neck.
Her rain-soaked black shirt clung tightly to her skin, accentuating the girl's slender figure. The rain-soaked red ribbon had deepened in color, resembling a rose that had just begun to bloom.
She sat in the rain with her head tilted back, allowing the raindrops to fall on her face and body.
Her blue eyes reflected the gray sky, capturing the last rays of light desperately struggling to break through the gaps in the clouds.
Rainwater streamed down her forehead, flowed over her brow bone, and gathered into shimmering droplets along the edges of her eyelashes.
Water droplets clung to her eyelashes, trembling faintly like tears—or something even clearer.
She parted her lips slightly, caught a few raindrops, and gently licked them with the tip of her tongue as though tasting something.
The corners of her lips curved into a very small arc.
"Look, Russell, it's raining."
She turned her face and smiled at Russell.
Then suddenly, she felt herself being forcibly pulled up from the chair.
"I knew it was raining, so why didn't you take shelter?"
Russell's helpless voice rang above her head. Then Mary no longer felt raindrops falling on her.
When she turned her face, she saw Russell had unbuttoned his coat and spread both arms wide, like a crow spreading its wings to shield her from the rain—despite the fact that she was already soaked.
Rainwater streamed down his forehead, flowed over his brow bone, gathered into droplets along his jawline, and dripped down one by one.
A few drops fell on her face, carrying his body heat.
"What are you looking at?"
Russell's voice rang out. "Let's go. Let's find somewhere to take shelter from the rain."
As he spoke, he took Mary's hand and pulled her toward the side of the street.
In the rain, the two figures ran through the streets. Mary's boots splashed through puddles. The rising water soaked her skirt and stockings, making them sticky and uncomfortable, but she didn't care.
She gripped Russell's hand tightly, as though afraid that if she let go, she would be separated from him in the rain.
There was a closed shop on the street with a small overhanging eave at the entrance. It was clearly not ideal for shelter, but for now there was nowhere else to hide.
Russell pulled her there, pressed Mary against the wall, and turned around with his body, blocking most of the rain.
Mary pressed her body against the wall. The cold from the rain instantly disappeared, replaced by the warmth created by the distance between them.
This distance wasn't actually close. At least, not compared to the distance they usually maintained when they were intimate.
But it was precisely this distance—this distance that even an embrace couldn't bridge—that allowed them to see each other clearly.
Mary could count the water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, see every trace of rain left on his face, feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath, and sense the burning heat emanating from his wet clothes.
Similarly, Russell could see that her shirt dress was completely soaked. The black fabric clung to her body, rising and falling with her breathing.
The silk trim of the tent now hung limply. The light and elegant impression had disappeared, replaced by a more messy and realistic atmosphere.
Her long silver hair clung to her cheeks and neck, occasionally dripping water.
This sense of distance was more dangerous than an embrace.
This thought suddenly flashed through Mary's mind for some reason.
As though possessed, she reached out and wiped the raindrops from Russell's face.
The girl's fingertips were cool yet soft, damp from the rain. She slid her fingers from Russell's forehead to his brow bone, cheeks, and the corners of his mouth, as though tracing his features.
Those slender fingertips traced his skin, moving down to his neck and then his collarbone.
"Hey," Russell called out to her just in time. "It would be rude to go any further."
Mary realized what was happening and hurriedly withdrew her hand while muttering something dissatisfied.
"Touching a little won't hurt…"
The eave was narrow. Rainwater dripped from the edges, forming a thin curtain of water in front of them.
The rain continued to fall. It seemed as though the only sound in the world was the sound of raindrops hitting the ground and roof. It was noisy, yet somehow peaceful.
"Are you cold?"
Russell asked while looking at Mary's rain-soaked hair.
"I'm not cold."
Mary shook her head. Her voice was small and slightly muffled by the rain, but it still reached his ears clearly.
Hearing this, Russell looked at her and then let out a helpless sigh. "You're lying."
He said, "Your hands are shaking, and you're actually more sensitive to cold than other people, aren't you?"
Mary was slightly surprised.
"You already wrap a scarf around your neck in autumn and switch to fleece-lined ones in winter.
And when you hold my hand, I can always tell that your hands are much colder than mine."
Russell said.
Mary was silent.
"We can't stay like this."
Russell said, "This rain doesn't look like it'll stop anytime soon, and we can't stay here forever."
The girl's gaze passed over his head and looked up at the gray sky behind him. Indeed, as Russell said, the dark clouds hung heavily with no sign of clearing.
It wouldn't be so bad if the rain didn't stop, she thought. At least then she wouldn't have to go back.
"You'll catch a cold."
Russell seemed to have seen right through her thoughts and suddenly spoke again.
"It's only for one day. It's fine. When winter ends and spring comes, there will be another chance."
"Russell."
Mary cut him off. "You really talk too much."
She leaned against the wall. There was a willful tone in her voice, like a child who hadn't had enough fun yet.
"I just don't want to go back. Is that not allowed?"
Russell looked at her. He clearly had many things he wanted to say and wanted to persuade her, but under the gaze of those eyes, he couldn't utter a single word.
When she looked at you with an expression full of pleading, as though everything she had was in your hands, reason ultimately had no choice but to yield to emotion.
"...Fine."
He sighed, took off his coat—which was already almost completely soaked—and draped it over Mary's shoulders.
The coat was well-made. Most of the back was soaked, but the rain hadn't completely penetrated it, so it was still warm enough.
He draped the coat over Mary's shoulders, but it was too big. The hem reached down to her ankles.
The clothes still carried Russell's body heat, mixed with the damp cold of the rain, but since Mary was sensitive to cold, she instinctively wrapped the coat more tightly around herself.
"What are you doing…?"
"What else do you think I'm doing?"
Russell said irritably. "I can't let you catch a cold in the rain, can I? If I did that, I'd be a sinner."
As he spoke, he buttoned her coat, then took her hand.
"Where are we going?"
Mary asked while realizing Russell was trying to take her somewhere, but not knowing where.
She was worried that Russell was going to forcibly take her home and couldn't help but stamp her foot hard on the ground.
"To Baker Street."
Russell said this and pulled her into the rain.
Mary paused for a moment, then stumbled after him.
They ran through the rain again. The rain blurred their vision, and Mary couldn't see what was ahead. She simply followed behind Russell instinctively.
From Kensington to Baker Street was four kilometers. It wasn't far, but it wasn't a short distance either. Running would take about thirty minutes.
Mary didn't know exactly how long she had been running. She only knew that her breathing was getting faster, her heartbeat was quickening, and her legs were starting to feel pain and weakness.
But she didn't stop, nor did she want to stop.
As long as he was holding her hand, she didn't care where they went.
They finally arrived at Baker Street.
Russell stopped in front of the familiar door, out of breath, and turned to look at her.
Mary also stopped, supporting herself with her hands on her knees, breathing heavily. Raindrops dripped from her hair, forming small puddles on the ground.
'We're here."
Russell said.
Mary looked up at the building in front of her.
221B Baker Street.
"How embarrassing!"
She spoke in a small voice, glanced at her soaked clothes, then looked up at Russell.
She had never imagined that the next time she met that detective, she would be in such a disheveled state.
"Mm."
Russell nodded. "You look terrible."
The two looked at each other and burst out laughing at the same time.
In the rain, laughter rang out. It was as though two children who had finally escaped from their cage were celebrating their victory.
Russell pushed open the door and pulled her inside.
Hurried footsteps came running down the stairs.
Then a voice came from the second floor——
"Russell?"
It was Charlotte's voice.
Mary looked up at the top of the stairs.
A woman wearing a dark gray sweater with slightly messy hair stood there, looking down at them.
Their gazes met in midair.
Mary smiled and waved at her.
"Hello, Miss Holmes."
She said, her voice carrying a faint note of provocation.
"We came to take shelter from the rain."