"What are you guys talking about?" Villard ran over after checking in, sweating profusely.
"What are the restaurants in London? What should I treat you to later?" Holmes asked with a straight face.
"Hey, you're being too polite. I'm not here for a vacation. You don't have to worry about me. I'll just grab a bite." The red-haired detective blushed and waved his hand.
Holmes couldn't help but smile. "Villard, my friend, we were just helping you look for the missing oil painting."
"What? You found the painting?" Villard was so shocked that he almost jumped up from the ground. "So fast? How is that possible? "
"In fact, if you're willing to do as I say, calm down, and pay attention to the details you missed, you can piece together the answer."
"You think too highly of me. It's as easy as lifting a finger for you, but for people like us, it's as difficult as climbing the heavens," Villard said sincerely.
"That's not it. As I said, you have potential, Villard. It's just that you haven't fully tapped it yet. In fact, Zhang is about to find the answer as well, and he's new to this line of work."
"The people who live with you must not be ordinary people. They're all people I can learn from." Unlike Gregson, the red-haired detective was a little too humble. He always put himself in a very low position, acting like a student.
Holmes had no choice but to say, "It was just a joke, but you're a guest. It's almost lunchtime, so let's finish lunch together. You can rest for the afternoon and think about this case. I'll take this time to look into something. See you later tonight."
…
The three then had lunch at London's famous Royal Restaurant. After lunch, Holmes left in a hurry, leaving Villard to return to the hotel. Zhang Heng returned to Baker Street alone. As soon as he opened the door, he saw Mrs. Hudson giving him a strange look.
"What's wrong?"
"A guest is looking for you," Mrs. Hudson said.
"Guest?" Zhang Heng raised his eyebrows. In 19th-century London, he was completely alone, with no family or friends. The only person he was close to was Sherlock Holmes, who was also a resident here. Generally speaking, people who came to 221B Baker Street were there to look for Sherlock Holmes.
The gypsy busker he met in the East District yesterday afternoon asked for his name and address before they parted ways, saying that he would pay a visit in the near future.
At first, Zhang Heng thought that the other party was just joking. He didn't expect that the other party would really come to him the next day.
However, when Zhang Heng walked into the living room and saw the guest, he was slightly startled.
The figure on the sofa was not a gypsy busker at all, but a woman, and a very beautiful woman at that. No, it should be said that she fulfilled almost all men's fantasies of Victorian beauties. She was elegant, well-dressed, and had an innate mysterious temperament. Every frown and smile of hers was captivating.
"What's wrong?" the woman asked as she ate the pancake. "Don't you recognize me?"
"You have indeed changed a lot." Zhang Heng had to admit that if Sherlock Holmes's makeup skills were Lv.2, the mysterious woman's makeup skills were probably at Lv.3. It was natural for her to disguise as a man. Coupled with the long scarf she wore, the only flaw that could be exposed was her neck, making it impossible to tell that she didn't have an Adam's apple.
Of course, a large part of the reason was that Zhang Heng didn't pay too much attention to her at the time. He was just helping her. Besides, unlike Sherlock Holmes, Zhang Heng wasn't familiar with the other party. Due to many factors, he didn't notice her immediately.
"I didn't mean to deceive you, but I'm sure you can see that I can't go to the East District with my original appearance," the woman said.
"Then why would a lady like you go to the East District?"
"I'm the lead singer of an opera troupe. I'm quite famous in London, but I guess you probably haven't seen my performance. I go to the East District to find inspiration for a new play," the woman said.
"Sorry, I rarely go to operas."
"It's okay. I'm performing at the Queen's Theatre tonight. If you like it, you can come with your friends." The woman took out two tickets and placed them on the table.
"I told you it's nothing. You don't have to take it to heart," Zhang Heng said.
"Then consider it as making a friend." The woman didn't take back the tickets when she heard Zhang Heng. After finishing the last biscuit in her hand, she said to Mrs. Hudson, "Good cooking."
"I'm glad you like it." Mrs. Hudson seemed happy to be praised.
After that, the female singer stretched herself. She seemed to be here to deliver the two opera tickets. Since business was done, she didn't want to waste any more time. She got up from the sofa and turned to leave.
But Zhang Heng stopped her from behind. "I haven't asked for your name yet."
"Adler." The female singer stopped and turned around with a smile. "Irene Adler."
After that, she put on her flowerpot hat and veil, opened the door, and a two-wheeled carriage was already waiting for her by the road.
Zhang Heng's expression changed when he heard the name. Anyone who had read "The Detective Sherlock Holmes" would know Irene Adler. Sherlock Holmes once told Watson that he had lost to four people, three men and one woman. And that woman was the mysterious female singer, Irene Adler.
The confrontation between the two was in the case of "A Scandal in Bohemia." The ending ended with the female singer and her new husband fleeing London overnight, and Holmes failing to complete his mission. Still, it was a perfect ending for the parties involved. Holmes asked for Adler's photo as a souvenir, and since then, he had been referring to the female singer as "that woman."
Because of this, some readers suspected that Holmes might have a secret affection for the female singer.
However, as Holmes' new roommate, Zhang Heng was more inclined to believe that it was just a mutual affection. In fact, Holmes had nothing to do with love at all. He had always scoffed at love, thinking that it would damage his rationality and was worse than the things he used to inject himself. It was as if a grain of sand had fallen into a precision instrument, or a high-powered lens had cracked.
Therefore, he had always stayed away from things like love. Of course, he would also study the psychology of human beings in love, just for the sake of solving cases.
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