The day after Isaac Adler's house burned to ash for an unknown reason.
"Haah, haah..."
The Queen, who had bolted from the hotel where she was staying the instant she received Holmes's telegram asking her to come to Watson's hospital, arrived at the hospital lobby and was catching her ragged breath.
"I came straight away the moment I received the telegram, as you said."
"Yes, you did well."
"What is this urgent matter that requires us to meet right now?"
Holmes, who had been waiting for the Queen while sitting on a lobby sofa, answered her question.
"It's about the photograph, of course."
"...Don't tell me you've already gotten your hands on the photograph?"
"Not exactly, but it's as good as having done so."
"O-ooh! Is that true?"
At that, the Queen brightened and grasped Holmes's hands in hers.
"As expected, I did well to entrust this request to you. How ever shall I repay this kindness..."
"The case is not yet over. Please calm yourself and hear what I have to say first."
But Holmes spoke in a cold voice and suggested the Queen take a seat.
"...Holmes."
"What is it, Watson?"
Watson, who had been quietly watching from Holmes's side, began to whisper cautiously to her.
"Are you really okay?"
Holmes was someone who, whenever a case showed signs of being resolved, always wore a serene expression and devoted herself to her hobbies.
But for some reason, she was currently as prickly as a girl going through puberty.
"I'm fine, Watson."
"Really?"
"...I said I'm fine."
It was a situation that felt significantly disconnected from her usual self, who always appeared mature and knowledgeable about everything.
"Please explain what has happened, quickly."
"........."
"I'm so anxious I feel I might go mad. There isn't much time left until the deadline Adler warned of."
But the Queen, unable to sense that disconnect, began to press Holmes with an anxious expression.
"First of all, we failed to find the photograph yesterday."
At that, Holmes began to speak, looking at the Queen with a voice that was still sharp.
"...What?"
"But now we know where the photograph is."
"I-is that true?"
The Queen's eyes had gone wide at the words about failing to find the photograph, but upon hearing that the location had been discovered, she brightened once more and asked,
"Where on earth is that damned photograph?"
"It's located on the third floor of this hospital, in inpatient room 102."
"What?"
"Because Isaac Adler is hospitalized there with full-body burns."
The Queen made a bewildered expression at those words.
"Why is that child...?"
"It's a long story."
Holmes closed her eyes tightly, tapped her fingers on the table, and let out a sigh.
"...A very long one."
And then Holmes began to explain what had happened yesterday.
"Isaac did such a thing?"
"That notorious rake?"
When Holmes's explanation reached the part where Adler had leaped into the flames to save her and her servants, not only the Queen but also Watson asked in disbelief.
"You passed out yesterday, so it's understandable that you didn't see it with your own eyes."
"But still..."
"But Watson. Judging matters with prejudice is the fastest way to distort the truth."
Then, for some reason, Holmes raised her voice and pressed Watson.
"But even I think it's strange. Isaac, who only thinks of women as toys to play with and discard, how could he..."
"Your Majesty. I'm sorry, but that is not the point I am trying to make."
Holmes cut off the Queen, who was muttering with an expression that still couldn't understand, and continued.
"I had assumed the photograph was in his mansion. However, Adler went in and out of the mansion several times, yet never retrieved the photograph."
"Th-that's..."
"He had planned to make it public within 36 hours, so he wouldn't have used a bank or private safe with complicated retrieval procedures. And of course, he wouldn't have hidden it in some shoddy place without any security either."
As Holmes's fluid explanation continued, the Queen listened with a blank expression.
"Considering all of that, the location of the photograph becomes clear. Adler had been carrying the photograph on his person from the very beginning."
"On his... his own body...?"
"Because he already possessed the most valuable thing, he had the composure to retrieve other things even amidst the flames."
But Holmes, who normally took pleasure in delivering deductions like sermons to her clients with an arrogant smile, for some reason didn't look very confident, unlike her usual self.
"Even so, the reason he saved me still doesn't quite make sense..."
Holmes added, furrowing her brow like a girl stuck on a difficult math problem.
"Then if I go to Adler now, I can recover the photograph?"
"...Well, I suppose so."
But when the Queen urgently threw out that question, ignoring her words, Holmes answered in a low voice.
"Dr. Watson and I will retrieve it in your stead."
"Th-that won't be necessary..."
"Adler is a mana user. What would you do if you went and were counterattacked?"
The Queen, who had initially made a slightly reluctant expression, began to ponder upon hearing those words.
"Watson and I have much experience dealing with bizarre incidents and mana users. But Your Majesty lacks such experience, does she not?"
"Certainly... that is true."
And then, she finally conceded.
"Then I shall wait here for you."
"That is a wise choice."
Holmes and Watson rose from their seats, nodded to the Queen, and immediately began heading toward the third floor where Isaac Adler was.
"Holmes, why did you insist on going?"
Then, Watson suddenly asked Holmes.
"They prescribed morphine and sleeping pills to Adler to help him forget the pain. Even if the Queen went alone, it would be more than enough..."
"Sometimes you talk too much, Watson."
Holmes brushed off Watson's question bluntly and quickened her pace, then tilted her head and looked back.
"...What is it, that nurse?"
The nurse who had just passed by them had somehow looked familiar.
.
"...Haah."
I never imagined that the moment I was slipping out of the hospital room disguised as a nurse, of all people, I'd run into Holmes and Watson.
'I nearly got into real trouble.'
When Holmes turned around and looked at me with suspicious eyes, I can't describe how startled I was, thinking I'd been caught right then and there.
Perhaps because in the original story, she had failed to recognize Irene Adler when greeted by him in men's clothing.
Fortunately, Holmes didn't seem to recognize me in my nurse disguise.
'Come to think of it, she really was Holmes.'
When I saw her lying there disguised as a nun, I hadn't been very impressed.
But seeing her walking toward me wearing her signature cape coat, it finally felt real.
Holmes really was a woman. And a very young one at that—a beautiful girl with an insolent yet, at the same time, haggard gaze.
The characters I'd meet from now on would probably all have their genders swapped like that.
And I would have to get entangled with most of them somehow.
"Hoo."
Letting out a small sigh, I soon opened my eyes wide and steeled my resolve.
There were two major things I had to do now.
First, I had to sever my relationship with Holmes's client, the Queen of Bohemia, who was watching me like a hawk.
If I didn't resolve it quickly, my life would be in danger, as Professor Moriarty had warned.
And next,
[Love-Hate Relationship: Becoming Holmes's 'That Man'.]
I had to resolve this quest.
Otherwise, this world would collapse.
'Who would have thought I'd live to see such a day.'
I never dreamed I'd be the one to give Holmes her first defeat in life.
But I hope she understands this is all for her sake.
Her abilities rivaled the original Holmes's, but Charlotte had the weakness of being mentally immature.
To become the only being capable of standing against Moriarty, this was a necessary failure—a chance for growth.
"Ah, ah. Can you hear me?"
I, who had somewhat alleviated the guilt of using knowledge from the original story to inflict defeat upon someone I deeply respected despite our differing ages and genders,
"If you can hear me, please answer, Professor."
Wearing the ultra-compact mana receiver that Professor Moriarty had given me before I left the academy, I muttered in a low voice.
"-I can hear you well. Adler."
Then, Professor Moriarty's voice began to sound in my ear.
"-So, what am I supposed to do now?"
Professor Moriarty was seated at a café on the opposite block over there, looking at me with an excited expression and waving her hand.
"You can think of this affair as a rehearsal of sorts before we enter into full-fledged criminal consultancy."
As an agent of this world's narrative probability, I had a duty to make Charlotte Holmes, the protagonist, grow.
"From now on, I will act according to your orders, Professor."
But at the same time, I also had a duty to help Professor Jane Moriarty—her archenemy and the final boss—grow into a being of narrative probability.
"So don't be too tense; take it slow and easy."
Making her, who had only just entered the world of criminal consultancy, into an emperor who would reign over London's underworld.
After all, that was my other main quest.
"No matter what happens, I will take full responsibility."
"-That's quite a romantic declaration."
The Queen of Bohemia, sitting in a lobby chair with an anxious expression, came into my view.
"As your assistant, try toppling the Queen of Bohemia once, Professor."
It was time to use Moriarty as a cheat key to escape this hopeless situation.
.
Meanwhile, at that moment.
The hospital room where Isaac Adler had been hospitalized.
"........"
Charlotte Holmes carefully opened the door and entered, looking down at the bed with an expression of disbelief.
"-Please open it at once when you see it."
In place of Isaac Adler, who should have been lying there, a lone envelope lay.
"-To Miss Charlotte Holmes."
On that envelope, her own name was written in Adler's hand.
"Holmes, what on earth is all this?"
"..........."
It was the moment the first failure was etched into Charlotte's flawless detective career.