Detective Mary

Chapter 9

"Miss Mary Bennet," the unfamiliar gentleman spoke, "what are you following me for?"

"......"

Mary's eyes widened.

He recognized himself?

But Mary did not know him; she had never seen this man in the neighborhood of Longbourn or Meriden-if she had, she would not have forgotten it.

The male before her was under thirty years of age, and he had removed his gentleman's hat and held it with his cane. The gentleman had dark hair, a thin face, and an impressive hawkish nose and high cheekbones, which were reflected in his eyes, which were as sharp as a falcon's.

A man of this stature, almost as if the word "extraordinary" was written on his face, had come to Meriden unnoticed, and no word had been heard from the social circles around him; he must have deliberately hidden his tracks, and his purpose was not to socialize in Meriden.

Moreover, Mary was not a beautiful woman, nor was she so famous as to be remembered by strange men.

"Meriden's so big," Mary winked, "I was just walking around, I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, sir."

"If you're looking for the stranger who abetted little Geoffrey's theft," he made a gesture of departure, "it's too much to take for granted to follow rashly, Miss Bennet."

Mary: "...... hey?"

Not only does he know her, but he knows what she's trying to do?

In that moment, an extremely absurd and bold possibility struck Mary, and she clutched the hem of her skirt, only to feel her heart pounding violently at the possibility.

"Wait a minute."

Mary snaps before the man can leave, "Wait, Mr. Holmes!"

The dark-haired gentleman sidled his head, "Yes?"

Mary took a deep breath.

Sure enough, it was him!

Who else but Sherlock Holmes would be dressed like this, who would call out strangers' names as a matter of course, who would come to Meryton and know all about burglaries?

Before traveling through time and space Mary used to tease her friends about their star-crossed craziness, now she had finally experienced what it was like to have a friend chasing a star - Mary was still racking her brain to create a trip to London in order to see 221b Baker Street in this day and age, and in the twinkling of an eye, the living Sherlock Holmes, stood right in front of her, talking to her.

God, was she living in a dream!

The heart still wants to create an opportunity to go to London, in order to meet their idols ...... actually do not even need to meet, even to this era of Baker Street walk Mary feel satisfied.

But I did not expect, she set up the feelings of the two sisters so as to reach the small plan to go to London has not yet succeeded, Sherlock Holmes came directly to her face.

"You, you," Mary said several "you's" in a row, finally regaining her senses before she completely lost it, "how do you know my name, Mr. Holmes?"

Sherlock Holmes raised an eyebrow, as if Mary had asked some extremely low question.

But he paused and answered Mary, "My client, Mr. Charles Bentley, told me that a young lady by the name of Mary Bennet, quite bold and exceptionally clever, had easily concluded that there was another instigator behind young Geoffrey's theft, and that it was she who suggested to Mr. Bentley that he should ask for someone else to look into the matter thoroughly. And you, Miss Bennet, of about twenty years of age, well-dressed, fair-complexioned, and at first sight the daughter of a local squire, have had the temerity to follow a strange man by yourself-any stranger in Meryton at this time might be a suspect in instigating Geoffrey, and only a person who cared for the case would do so. I don't think young ladies who fit the profile and are overly curious are common around Meryton."

Holmes used basic deduction on the spot, and Mary's heart could no longer be described as leaping for joy.

She tugged at her skirts, her eyes shining, "And aren't you ...... curious as to how I recognized you, sir?"

The lean gentleman replied as a matter of course, "I'm the only one currently pursuing the case who isn't you, ma'am."

With that, Holmes put on his hat and stepped away.

She didn't look back until Holmes was almost out of the alley. Mary hurried to follow, Mr. Holmes was so tall and long that Mary had to jog to keep up with him, "Do you live in London, sir?"

"Yes."

"How did you and Mr. Bentley meet?"

"Fitzwilliam Darcy recommended it."

"And how did you and Mr. Darcy meet?"

"......"

In the place of Mr. Charles Bentley, who was so kind to people, he would have patiently satisfied all of Mary's curiosities, but not so much Sherlock Holmes.

Granted, he wasn't as eccentric as the later reinterpretations for film and television - in fact, after some conversation, Mary felt that of all the many versions of Holmes, this one was still quite the gentleman. Being the heroine of the same novel, she probably surmised that the author was referencing the characterization of the '84 Jeremy Brett version.

But that didn't mean that the more placid Mr. Holmes would waste time in pointless conversation.

He gave Mary a sideways glance, and the intent in his sharp eyes could not have been clearer: if Mary Bennet was going to consume her time in meaningless conversation, then he had overestimated her talents.

Instead of being discouraged, Mary smiled and said, "I guess it's a family friend, isn't it? Never mind, I can ask Mr. Darcy."

Since Mr. Bingley said that Holmes and Darcy were on good terms, Mary felt that it was eighty percent worldly friends. For one thing, she couldn't figure out how a single bachelor with a lot of money in his pocket could be friends with a detective running around the streets of London, and for another, the Holmes family was also a famous local squire, and it would be perfectly normal for them to be acquainted with Darcy's family.

Not waiting for Holmes to speak, Mary changed the topic to herself: "You just said that the instigator of the little Geoffrey will not return to Meryton, because his plan failed, naturally there is no need to return, right. Only I am a little puzzled as to what he really wants, do you have any clues, sir?"

Holmes paused.

Mary looked up and realized that they had walked near Jeffrey Jr.'s house.

The distance was too close! Mary hated to have to walk ten more kilometers with Sherlock Holmes.

Mr. Detective turned, "What do you think, Miss Bennet?"

Was this a test for her?

Mary's eyes snapped open.

At the mention of the case, she was much more at peace, except for the slyness that glowed in her plain face, "Since you have also decided that little Geoffrey was instigated by someone, sir, I will not dwell on it. At first I thought it was Mr. Bingley who had offended someone, but on second thoughts I am afraid it was some object of great value in Mr. Bingley's bedroom."

"You think someone covets Mr. Bingley's property."

"That's the only motive I can think of."

"A contract."

Mary flinched.

She originally thought it would be some kind of jewelry crown or something like that, anyway, it is time and space travel to the homage novels well, write exaggerated a little romantic is not strange at all.

Mr. Holmes' hypothesis was much more realistic - what was the most valuable thing in the Victorian era? Capital. What did capital operate on? The market.

And markets make capital, always with contractual terms.

Mary quickly responded, "Contracts, are they factory contracts or commercial trade contracts?"

She did not know what Mr. Bingley's business was, although Mary was quite curious about the capitalist relations of production in this era, but in the Southern squire's concept, only a large landowner like Darcy, who had a large family background, could be called "noble". And making money in business was something that was not on the table.

So Mary didn't ask any specific questions.

But such an answer did not make Mary understand the cause and effect of the case.

"What's the use of stealing a signed contract," she said, more confused than ever, "and what's the use of stealing it? And if the contract was stolen, the case would be too simple."

"Think, Miss Bennet."

Mr. Holmes was getting a little impatient.

"It is proper to think before you speak out of turn."

He tapped the heel of his shoe with his cane, practically etching the word disgruntled into every cell, and was close to outright complaining about how such a simple question could have been mentally questionable.

Anyone else might have been scared back by the great detective's intellectual disdain, but Mary wasn't having any of it.

Her curiosity was thoroughly aroused, and she was not afraid to see that Mr. Holmes did not wish to explain.

With a slight turn, the petite girl stood before the lean gentleman, and Mary boldly looked up straight into Mr. Holmes's sharp eyes, and said unflinchingly, "You cannot force an unmarried young lady who has never set foot out of this county to know everything, Mr. Holmes; there are many things in the world which I do not understand, but I can learn, and . ..."

Mary raised a smile, "I haven't figured out for the moment what the thief who instigated young Geoffrey's theft of the contract was doing, but I have figured out something else."

Holmes: "What?"

Mary: "It was Mr. Darcy who recommended you to Mr. Bingley to come and solve the burglary, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Then I think this case is too easy for you," Mary spoke up, "Did you take on this commission because there is a larger conspiracy behind it?"

"......"

However Sherlock Holmes did not answer her.

The detective simply put his hat back on as he walked around Mary, who was in his way, and headed over toward the little Jeffrey's house.

Mary turned relentlessly and spoke to Holmes' back, "May I join you in your investigation, sir? Whatever the conspiracy behind this, I just want justice for little Geoffrey's mother!"

Holmes did not stop.

"Sir, I'll take that as a yes if you don't say anything."

"............"

Sherlock Holmes, who was walking in front of him, stopped his pace once again and spoke to Mary with a sideways glance, "What are you waiting for, clues don't come to you of their own accord, Miss Bennet."

Oi?

Mary showed a bewildered look.

Mr. Detective sighed helplessly, "Why don't you get going?"

Mary froze, then raised an extraordinarily bright smile. She picked up her skirt and followed without hesitation.