Miles's voice carried a note of caution, his gaze settling gingerly on Charlotte before flicking over to Russell.
Hearing him, Charlotte lifted her teacup, raised her eyelids just slightly, and gave no answer—which counted as tacit permission.
"Go ahead, Mr. Miles," Russell said with a smile.
Granted approval, Miles let out a breath at last, then flipped to a fresh page in his notebook, curiosity showing on his face.
"Then, first question, Miss Holmes."
He looked at Charlotte.
"May I ask what made you choose the profession of detective? As far as we know, you're still a university student at present, correct? With your talent, you could easily have made a far… easier choice, couldn't you?"
"Because it's boring."
Charlotte set the teacup down in her hand, brief and to the point.
"Boring?" Miles blinked, clearly not expecting an answer like that. "Could you explain that for me?"
"Boring is boring. There's nothing to explain," Charlotte said.
"Put simply, it's a matter of interest," Russell put in at the right moment, playing the role of translator.
At that, understanding dawned on Miles, and he shot Russell a grateful glance.
"Then, aside from solving cases, do you have any other hobbies?" he asked.
"She plays the violin now and then."
Once again Russell answered on her behalf, and he made no mention whatsoever of any chemistry experiments.
"Music helps her think," he said.
"I see…" Miles nodded, scribbling swiftly in his notebook.
Genius detective, unconventional, loves the violin… keywords of every sort surfaced one after another across the page.
After a pause, he raised his head again, and this time it was Russell he looked at.
From their exchange just now, he had already figured it out—any question was best put to this man.
"So, Mr. Watson, what about you?" Miles asked. "How did you come to know Miss Holmes, and what was the occasion that made you her assistant?"
Hearing the question, Russell fell silent for a moment, a reminiscent look crossing his face.
Beside him, Charlotte showed no reaction as before, yet without meaning to she sharpened her attention a fraction.
"Mm… Charlotte and I met at the opening ceremony at Imperial College," Russell said.
"I was sitting in the very last row, and then she came in late—strolled in with the most utterly insolent attitude and sat down beside me. At the time I thought, how could anyone be arrogant to such a degree," he said with a laugh.
At those words, Miles started, then his eyes lit up.
Here came the good stuff!
"And then?" he pressed. "How did the two of you get acquainted?"
"And then…" Russell thought about it. "She immediately analyzed me from head to toe, and then, while I stared in utter shock, she announced she was my neighbor."
"That… dramatic?"
"That's right," Russell nodded. "Exactly that dramatic."
As the words fell, Charlotte suddenly coughed twice, drawing everyone's attention.
"Ahem."
"Is there something you'd like to add?" Miles offered tactfully.
"To be precise, it should be a correction," Charlotte said.
"A correction?" Miles was slightly taken aback. "Was something Mr. Watson said not quite right?"
"There was," Charlotte said, looking over at Russell. "For instance, a certain someone left out entirely the fact that he'd been planning to slip away during the opening ceremony."
Russell's expression stiffened just a touch.
"Slip away?" Miles's eyes lit up in an instant—he felt he'd caught the scent of gossip. "Mr. Watson, could you tell us more about that?"
"Ahem," Russell cleared his throat, trying to bluff his way past it. "At the time I just found the ceremony a bit dull and wanted to step out for some air—it hardly counts as slipping away."
"Oh?" Charlotte remarked flatly from the side, apparently with no intention of letting him off so easily. "So what you mean is that the ceremony Imperial College carefully prepared for its opening was dull?"
The hell?
First she pins a crime on him, then she stakes out the moral high ground!
"…" Russell's expression grew even stiffer.
"Mr. Watson?" Henry Scott's interest was piqued too. He leaned forward slightly, joining in on this easy conversation. "Is what Miss Holmes just said true?"
"Absolutely not," Russell said, sitting up straight, his face grave. "As a student of Imperial College, how could I harbor such a disrespectful thought? I love this school as I love my own parents—what child could ever grow impatient with their parents?"
At that, Charlotte cut him a sidelong glance, then curled her lip in disdain.
"Well, if you've got no objection to Imperial College, then you must have an objection to Mary Morstan?"
"…"
This was never going to end, was it?
"…Can't it just have been that I had a stomachache at the time?" Russell said, looking at her, his tone aggrieved.
"Sure, of course it can," Charlotte nodded, noncommittal. "Whatever you say."
"Ahem, let's change the subject." Russell turned to Miles and dropped his voice. "Don't put this part in."
"Ah," Miles snapped out of his enjoyment of the spectacle, then nodded and broke into a smile. "Of course, of course."
He cleared his throat, then shifted the topic:
"How did the two of you begin working together? And what was the first case you collaborated on?"
"The occasion… there wasn't really an occasion, it seems," Russell said. "She moved in next door to me at the time, and happened to be working a case, and asked for my opinion. It was as simple as that."
He paused, then went on:
"The first case we handled was the suicide of Nicholas Winter."
"I see." Understanding showed on Miles's face, and he began to write. "So the two of you—your story started from that point… And what happened after that?"
"After that… well, Charlotte was already a consulting detective for Scotland Yard before all this. I just rode on her coattails," Russell said. "After that we settled into this partnership—taking on Scotland Yard's commissions, then splitting the payment, which covered my tuition."
"I see…" Miles nodded. "Beginning with interest, carried on by a bond…"
He wrote the keywords down in his notebook, and only then raised his head again.
"So aside from Scotland Yard," Miles asked, "do the two of you also take on more private commissions?"
"Once," Russell nodded, and then recounted the matter of Holly Davey from beginning to end.
"There was actually a case like that." Miles and Henry wore looks of surprise.
"Any others?" Henry pressed.
"Mm, we don't take private commissions often," Russell said.
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the two men so hungry for knowledge, then continued:
"That said, ever since then, we have been invited to lend a hand at Buckingham Palace."
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