Chapter 160: Picture Perfect
A thangka1 must never be too thangka-like.
-Ralph Waldo Emerson-
“Her Majesty?”
When I asked, Poppins nodded.
“It’s a matter of moments.”
“……Hoh.”
If it was truly a matter of moments, I had just come from experiencing one myself.
The Home Secretary, who went alone to confront an agent of the Church of Asteroid who had changed his face (though in truth it was no mere agent, but the archfiend himself), barely kept his life.
For better or worse, the moment he received the information from my note, he sent attendants to Baker Street.
Thanks to that, I gained the chance to witness Moriarty with my own eyes. And at the same time, I ended up exposing to him the very faces of mine and Watson’s that I had tried so hard to keep hidden.
‘We escaped the crisis by sheer improvisation… so perhaps it was very lucky indeed.’
Even before my regression, Moriarty never cared for anything beyond prey or rivals.
Given his rotten temperament, treating most humans like vermin without distinction, he likely wouldn’t remember Watson’s face.
That was a tremendous stroke of luck for Watson.
As for me, for a while I would need to avoid his gaze, or, if we crossed paths again, maintain the lies I had spun and disguise myself as an Afternoon Tea Party man.
Whether to treat it as a crisis or an opportunity was entirely up to me.
In any case, I was utterly exhausted having returned from the court ball and faced Moriarty before I could properly rest.
I needed a hot bath and ample sleep, yet for so many uninvited guests to have poured in the instant I came home?
As a consulting detective, having such a variety of cases spill in was certainly pleasing and fun.
는 것 또한 사실.
Of course, since this visitor carried Her Majesty’s command, I couldn’t ask her to come back later the way I would with an obnoxious client.
I suspected the ‘urgent business’ might be a Sword Debate Chess tantrum or some other trifle, but as one who lived upon Great Britain’s soil, I could not ignore Her Majesty’s order.
“If Her Majesty calls, should we not come at once?”
So I answered the court lady.
“Only, my shabby—”
“Shabby?”
A long sword aura shot out from Mrs. Hudson’s silver dagger.
“…Then we must investigate the scoundrels who trespassed into a cozy residence that has never once looked ‘shabby.’”
“I told you it was urgent. For such a minor matter, you could call Scotland Yard—”
“It is not minor.”
This time Watson spoke with a firm expression.
“While we were away, strangers we have never met violated our precious home. No matter that Her Majesty calls, common folk like us must mind the life right in front of us..”
Her voice carried real conviction.
Though she had lived as a soldier obedient to authority, it seemed she judged she could not ignore this.
“Did you not hear me? Did I not say Her Majesty summons you on urgent business?”
It was not as openly disdainful as the court lady who once came holding a royal decree, yet it was still a manner that made one frown.
Still, I did not wish to criticize her.
By her common sense, Watson and I would sound like we were talking nonsense.
That she urged us to hurry to Buckingham Palace, despite plainly knowing that the indulgence talisman’s secret was hidden in this lodging house and leaving intruders unaddressed, likely meant she held no small resentment toward me.
Perhaps I should at least be grateful that she and Mrs. Hudson had together knocked out the Kung-Fuists lying over there.
“Three minutes will be enough.”
“I shall brew more tea in the meantime.”
Mrs. Hudson withdrew her sword aura and went down to the first floor.
The court lady remained silent.
Judging by how anxious she looked, she seemed to have waited quite some time after arriving, yet she apparently decided she could spare three more minutes.
“Then, excuse me for a moment.”
I went straight to the fallen men.
Five Kung-Fuists, each with different looks and attire.
Two of them were smokers, and the tobacco scent clinging to their fingers provided me with a great many clues.
As someone who had written a paper on 140 types of tobacco ash, from pipes, cigars, and cigarettes, it was information far harder to miss than to notice.
“A blend of Smoking Leaf and Orient. An aroma preferred in Italy. And this one… Ottoman, perhaps.”
Their places of origin, and the deliberate bodily imbalances produced by their Kung-Fu were all different.
To be safe, I pressed their acupoints once more and checked their pulses, enough to gauge their rough level.
All were first-rate Kung-Fuists. Judging by the quality of their internal energy, there was no trace of advanced learning, no famous orthodox heart methods or the like.
I sipped the elixir tea Mrs. Hudson had swiftly brewed and continued my observations.
Then I noticed something. The sword hilt carried by the man I presumed to be Italian had an unusual shape.
A pistol-grip hilt.
A handle often derided as awkward to wield and lacking tradition.
It had been invented in Italy only recently, yet traditionalists such as Lily Swordmasters, and even members of criminal organizations shunned it, so there were not many sword clans who use it.
I had heard that, after years of steady research, it became known to suit swift-sword techniques, and demand among quick-blade practitioners surged.
In short, the fallen Italian was an early adopter. If it fit his hand and pleased him, he would gladly use a grip that had not yet passed the European Murim Alliance’s hilt-safety inspection.
Carrying such a thing meant he learned his sword not in an academy, but on the streets.
“So, a vagrant. The kind of professional you can throw money at, and whether it works or not, there’s barely any aftermath…….”
Not hardened felons, but the sort who live by the blade in the gray zones.
A card used to probe a target before committing fully.
What they came for had already been made clear through Poppins’s words.
They must have come here while Watson and I were away, seeking the key to the indulgence talisman’s secret. Namely, the Vatican Cameos.
They did mention ‘indulgence talisman,’ but their employer surely did not give them detailed information.
They probably thought they could threaten the lodging-house owner and have it handed over, but to their surprise, they broke in without knowing Mrs. Hudson and the visiting court lady were formidable Kung-Fuists, and were promptly beaten for it.
Judging by their skill, even the ones who hired these vagabonds likely expected little.
‘It doesn’t seem the Zion Clan was involved.’
I had my suspicions when I checked their origins, but fortunately the Vatican did not seem that foolish.
So someone else had hired the vagabond.
Now that I knew Irene Adler was the Afternoon Tea Party’s leader, suspicion naturally fell on her, but at present there were far too many who might covet the secret.
Nearly a thousand people had witnessed what the indulgence talisman could do at the ball, so it would be difficult to determine exactly who had hired them.
Their employer likely gave them only two keywords, my name and the indulgence talisman’s secret, and ordered them to retrieve the item by any means.
Still, there was one thing I could say for certain. Scum like this would come sniffing around again and again.
It was fortunate that I had properly hidden the music box, and that Mrs. Hudson had raised her realm by no small measure.
If I failed to stop intruders coveting the secret, and to tell apart visitors disguised as clients, my headaches would only worsen.
No matter how strong Mrs. Hudson was, the unease remained.
If I asked Her Majesty and mobilized the Secret Intelligence Service’s butlers, we could guard the lodging house in four shifts, but owing the Crown is never free.
I even considered smashing the music box that hid the Vatican Cameos and leaving the secret only in my head, but in the unpredictable London Murim, erasing bargaining material outright was plainly a poor choice.
At times like this, if ‘she’ were guarding the house, I would feel reassured.
But only briefly did I recall the days at my master’s estate.
I poured a small amount of the pursuit powder I had obtained from Sir Harcourt into the vagabond’s mouths, then collected their weapons.
“…Well, there is no great cause for worry. The treasure they seek is hidden elsewhere.”
I fell silent for a moment in deliberation, then spun a lie.
The fact they came after Watson and I had left meant that those coveting the indulgence talisman’s secret were hiding somewhere near Baker Street, watching us.
Among them might be Kung-Fuists who miss not even the smallest sound, like Mycroft detecting window vibrations with ink to eavesdrop. So it was necessary to leak false information like this.
“I didn’t even realize you were hiding something, Holmes.”
“I did not mean to deceive you. Forgive me.”
Now that I had confirmed identifying the employer would require time and effort, there was no need to waste more time here.
“Then, Mrs. Hudson, I leave the rest to you.”
“When I went down to brew tea, I asked a passing constable to send word. Inspector Lestrade will arrive soon.”
“Brilliant. Then, shall we be off?”
I set off for Buckingham Palace with Poppins, who was struggling to keep her expression composed, and with Watson.
The moment we arrived at the palace, we were led straight to the office where Sword Debate Chess had been played.
At first, because Watson was dressed as a man, an attendant failed to recognize her and blocked our way, but once we explained she was my assistant, we were allowed in.
“…You are late.”
Her Majesty’s crystal voice was sharp the instant the door opened.
“Th Little Heavenly Demon pays homage to Great Britain’s sovereign.”
“The Discharged Medical Physician greets Great Britain’s sovereign.”
As we bowed carefully, the Sword Queen’s face watching us was cold as ice.
“…Everyone except Poppins, leave.”
“As you command.”
The attendants and court ladies waiting inside withdrew all at once.
“……”
The air, stiff as stone, spoke of the situation’s seriousness.
It was certainly graver than I had imagined.
“I understand Anglican doctrine does not permit cross-dressing.”
“…?!”
As expected, unlike the others, Her Majesty saw clean through Watson’s disguise.
“My assistant has unavoidable circumstances. I would be grateful if you would overlook it.”
“Time is short. I’ll overlook it.”
Fortunately, she did not press the matter.
‘She must be in truly dire haste.’
Even though I arrived long after being summoned, Her Majesty didn’t scold me in the slightest.
That was not simply because she held me in favor.
I sensed that the problem Her Majesty faced was so vast that my tardiness, and Watson’s disguise, were trivial by comparison.
Indeed—
“I heard what happened to Sir Harcourt. It seems there were unavoidable circumstances, so I do not wish to blame you.”
She didn’t treat even Sir Harcourt’s encounter with the archfiend lightly.
To be honest, it was enough to raise doubts.
“I beg pardon, but an archfiend even in Your Majesty’s realm appeared and attacked the Home Secretary at Westminster Palace. I cannot imagine a matter more grave than that.”
“The weight of affairs is not for you to judge.”
“……”
Her Majesty’s voice admitted no argument, and I was left speechless.
“I hear the fiend vanished into the sky. We do not know when he will return. But the case I entrust to you, if you do not solve it within three days…”
Her Majesty Victoria lowered her voice and continued.
“There will be war.”
“…A diplomatic matter?”
“Yes.”
War. Two words that were irresistibly tantalizing to a consulting detective.
“This matter concerns Great Britain’s national fate. Remember: you cannot delay even an hour.”
“…I shall keep it in mind.”
War. Indeed, a grave affair not lacking even when compared to Moriarty’s emergence.
I had handled cases of national consequence more than once in my prior life, yet the thought of exercising the full craft of a consulting detective in London Murim made my heart already begin to race.
“Holmes…”
Beside me, Watson looked at me with eyes set in firm resolve.
“I know.”
She was a war hero returned from sand-swept Afghanistan.
Having lived the misery of the front with her own body, she would want to prevent war more than anyone.
“I want to know the details. What can I do to prevent the war?”
At my question, Her Majesty nodded gravely.
“Poppins.”
“Yes, Your Majesty.”
What the court lady brought was a scroll stamped with the royal crest. The kind used when bestowing a royal decree.
I accepted it politely and unrolled it, and the clue to this case appeared.
“…What on earth is this?”
“It is the treasure you must find within three days, starting now.”
The clue held within the scroll.
It was—
“Three days is a bit short. Would you grant me more time?”
“How much?”
“If I had to find it from this drawing alone… roughly… four years?”
It was an oval object someone had scribbled in utter scrawl.
- TL/N: a Tibetan Buddhist painting on cotton, silk appliqué, usually depicting a Buddhist deity, scene, or mandala. ️