Charlotte sat on the sofa, eyeing the hand Russell had extended toward her, and couldn't help but frown.
"Why?" she asked. "What's the point of this?"
"No point at all," Russell said honestly. "I simply think you need some fresh air."
"I do go out."
"Coming downstairs to the ground floor to grab something to eat doesn't count as going out."
Russell held his hand steady, still outstretched.
Charlotte tilted her head and studied him. After a long moment, she finally spoke.
"Five minutes."
She said it, then slowly reached out and placed her hand in his palm.
"If I'm still bored after five minutes, we come back."
"Deal." Russell smiled faintly and pulled her up from the sofa.
The two of them walked side by side down Baker Street.
The evening air was damp and cold. The street lamps along the road had already come on early, their amber halos spreading a hazy, diffuse glow across the wet cobblestones.
Charlotte had traded in her warm dressing gown for a trench coat.
She walked with both hands tucked into the coat's pockets, keeping pace with Russell. Where he strolled with the easy, unhurried pleasure of someone on a leisurely outing, Charlotte seemed faintly ill at ease. Her gaze moved ceaselessly — sweeping the surroundings, taking stock, passing over every pedestrian they encountered.
"Look over there." Charlotte spoke suddenly, tilting her chin toward the street corner.
Russell followed her line of sight.
At the corner, a respectably dressed middle-aged man was pacing back and forth with visible anxiety, lifting his wrist every so often to check his pocket watch.
"That man — mid-forties, married. Judging by the wear on the ring on his fourth finger, he's been married upward of fifteen years. Well dressed, but there are faint ink stains on his cuffs, barely noticeable — he works in clerical administration. A solicitor, perhaps, or an accountant." Charlotte's words came rapid-fire.
"He's been waiting here at least ten minutes, checking his watch every thirty seconds. His posture is anxious, but his eyes keep drifting toward the flower shop across the street — which means he isn't waiting on business. He's waiting for a lover."
"How do you know it's a lover and not a husband who forgot his wedding anniversary and is picking out a gift for his wife?" Russell raised an eyebrow.
"Because his tie is a Windsor knot, and it's been tied with meticulous care. That tells you the person he's meeting today matters enormously to him — someone for whom he needs to present his very best self. And yet his shoes have a few flecks of mud on them, distributed unevenly, concentrated at the heel. That means he was in a hurry when he set out — possibly ran part of the way here."
"Mm." Russell nodded with an expression of grave, ceremonious consideration. "So — why are you profiling him?"
"I don't know." Charlotte shook her head with complete candour. "Instinct, I suppose."
"Instinct?"
"I can't simply switch my mind off and wander down the street with my head empty the way you do."
"Who says I'm not thinking? I'm thinking too."
"Wondering what Mrs. Hudson is making for dinner tonight doesn't count as thinking," Charlotte shot back.
"And I'll wager it's sandwiches."
"I think it's baked pasta with cream and meat sauce," Russell offered as a dissenting opinion.
"Impossible." Charlotte dismissed the suggestion outright.
"Mrs. Hudson, out of any seven evenings in a week, makes smoked ham sandwiches at least four of them. And I saw her slicing ham at noon."
"Then let's make it a wager — I'm sticking with my answer." Russell said.
"What are the stakes?" Charlotte asked.
"If I lose, your breakfast and newspaper for the next week — I handle all of it," Russell said.
"That's something you're already supposed to do as my assistant," Charlotte retorted — but she agreed to it as the wager's terms all the same.
"And me?" she asked. "What happens if I lose? Write your research proposal for you?"
"No need — I wouldn't dare hand something you'd written to Professor Fields."
Russell laughed and lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "If I win, my request is simple."
He paused, and then, under Charlotte's puzzled and curious gaze, he spoke:
"Tomorrow, you go to Imperial College for one full day of classes. Just the one day — how about it?"
"Go to Imperial College for a day of classes?" Charlotte's brow drew together in a knot.
"Are you certain the cold air on this walk hasn't frozen your brain solid? What possible benefit is that to you?"
"When Moriarty steals something and then returns it, what benefit is that to him?" Russell countered.
"So — do you dare take the bet?"
Charlotte fell silent.
She looked at the assured, almost provocative smile on Russell's face, and her mind moved at speed.
She had seen Mrs. Hudson preparing the smoked ham with her own eyes. Every link in the chain of logic pointed to a single, inescapable conclusion.
There was no possible way she could lose this wager.
In that case, agreeing to some absurd, pointless demand put forward by the losing side seemed like no great concession at all.
She could treat it as... entertainment. Watching the look of disappointment that would settle on his face once he'd lost.
Besides, having her breakfast and morning paper secured for the coming week was hardly a bad thing either.
It would, at the very least, give her assistant something marginally useful to do.
"Deal."
Charlotte's voice settled back into its usual composure. She put both hands back in her pockets and turned to continue walking.
"I'd suggest you set your alarm as soon as we're back. If I don't see breakfast and the newspaper before seven in the morning, every day you're late earns an extra week of penalties."
"Naturally, no problem at all." Russell laughed and fell into step beside her.
The two of them walked on like that, trading the occasional idle remark — now and then profiling some random pedestrian on the street for no particular reason, then falling into a mild argument over some small point of disagreement.
The sky darkened by degrees, and the bustle of Baker Street gradually gave way to the quiet of the evening.
As they passed a newspaper stand, Russell saw a newsboy selling the last few copies to a late-returning pedestrian.
The front page of the paper bore, as it had for days, an enormous countdown figure and Moriarty's unmistakable signature.
[Judgement Day — Countdown: 4]
"A carefully orchestrated provocation, engineered to work on the emotions of the public at large. He knows precisely what people need, and he gives it to them in exactly the right measure. A cliffhanger, a hero, a villain, a stage upon which they can indulge their cheap sentiments to their heart's content."
Charlotte followed his gaze to the headline, and her voice carried a faint undercurrent of contempt.
"Or perhaps he simply thinks it's good fun?" Russell countered.
"Then that only proves he's an irredeemably narcissistic, attention-seeking personality." Charlotte gave a cold little sniff. "Shallow."
Russell smiled and said nothing to contradict her.
The two of them crossed the street and arrived back at the front door of 221B Baker Street.
Before Russell had even reached for his key, the familiar wooden door swung open from within.
A wave of warmth rolled out to meet them — rich with the mingled aromas of butter, cheese, and tomato.
Not sandwiches.
The thought flashed through both their minds at precisely the same moment. And in that same instant, two entirely different expressions bloomed across their faces.
"Oh, you're back!" Mrs. Hudson emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of freshly baked garlic bread, her face warm with a kindly smile, entirely oblivious to the charged atmosphere between the two of them.
"Go wash your hands — dinner's nearly ready."
Charlotte's expression froze.
She turned stiffly, her gaze moving past Mrs. Hudson's shoulder toward the kitchen — toward the baking dish on the dining table, still steaming, its surface blanketed in a golden layer of melted cheese.
Russell followed her gaze, and a broad, triumphant smile spread across his face.
"Don't be late tomorrow, Charlotte."
____
________________________________________
If you want more chapters, please consider supporting my page on (P). with 50 advanced chapters available on (P)
👻 Join the crew by searching Leanzin on (P). You know the spot! 😉