Chapter Sixteen: The Charming Sherlock

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Yet, Sherlock Holmes showed no signs of suspicion; instead, he began instructing Billy to conduct various other experiments. For instance, replacing the liquid inside a syringe, swapping the contents of an unopened bottle of liquor, or even exchanging boiling water that was currently bubbling. Remarkably, all these attempts succeeded, leaving Holmes quite impressed.

However, Billy’s brow furrowed sharply whenever Holmes pulled out a syringe. Could it be that this world’s Holmes, like the original, might inject himself with something like cocaine? Holmes noticed Billy’s unease and explained, “Watson is a doctor. Sometimes clients who seek my help have special conditions requiring his assistance, so leaving syringes here isn’t unusual. I also use them for some animal experiments. As for the wild notions running through your mind, there’s no way I’d use anything like that on myself. It would ruin my mind and make me dependent—an immense loss for me.”

Billy felt a wave of relief at that. He was glad Holmes hadn’t touched that detestable substance. “Though it’s said to stimulate the brain—I’ve entertained such thoughts during the dullest moments—humans differ from animals in having reason. I can control my thoughts,” Holmes said, turning to Billy. “But now that you’re here, I doubt I’ll be bored anytime soon.”

Billy thought wryly: The feeling of becoming a lab rat had only intensified. Yet, if one encountered someone with extraordinary powers, wouldn’t they, like Holmes, be driven to explore those abilities relentlessly? Especially someone like Holmes, who craves stimulation and possesses an insatiable curiosity.

After lunch, Holmes took Billy fishing by the Thames again. “Everything you catch seems related to our cases, Billy. As long as you’re with me, I fear I’ll never run out of cases—though I worry about their quality,” Holmes remarked.

His words soon proved true. Perhaps because Billy hadn’t yet retrieved all the jewels from the “Four Signatures” case, despite only a 20% success rate, he occasionally reeled in valuable-looking gems. Among these treasures were all sorts of miscellaneous items: drug bottles tossed into the river, some unopened and dry inside due to tight seals, but most of the medicines had spoiled—no one knew how long they’d been there.

Some bottles weren’t properly sealed, so their contents had fully mixed with the river water, making identification impossible. There were also daggers thrown into the river, their blades even if once stained with blood, now thoroughly cleansed by the current. Empty wallets, likely dropped accidentally or discarded by thieves, and lock-picking tools that Billy could only identify as such because Holmes said so, also surfaced. Eventually, Billy even pulled up stones, shards of rusted metal, and ropes.

Holmes studied the chaotic assortment with shifting expressions before sighing in resignation. “I suppose I overestimated your ability. Though these may be crime tools, none retain any useful traces. Not even my sharp eye can help.”

He regarded Billy thoughtfully. “It seems your power is linked to your thoughts; aimless attempts won’t yield anything useful. That pendant box at first was pure chance. Truly, it’s only an auxiliary ability.”

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Nevertheless, Holmes took all the drug bottles and jewels home. The rest of the detritus was tossed into the trash. The jewels were to be handed over to Watson, while Holmes used the bottles for research.

Holmes eventually confirmed that although some medicines were spoiled, others could still kill the lab mice Billy had purchased, and some could induce sleep.

Watching Holmes conduct experiments, Billy finally couldn’t resist buying some experimental materials himself. He felt he should prepare some handy tools for the next case—who knew when they might come in useful? For example, luminol reagent and fingerprint powder—items Billy thought he could easily make and often use.

Although chemical reagents capable of detecting blood existed, such as one Holmes developed, these required extracting blood samples to react with the reagent; they couldn’t be sprayed directly on the original object. Luminol, however, could be sprayed directly and had the advantage of detecting extremely faint blood traces. But it had two drawbacks: the chemiluminescent reaction lasted only a few dozen seconds and required a relatively dark environment to see; and it couldn’t distinguish between human and animal blood.

When Holmes saw Billy detect wiped blood stains using luminol, he nearly leapt in excitement. Grabbing the bottle, he began testing every bloodstain meticulously.

That day, Holmes gleefully played the violin for an entire hour—so much so that even Billy, who found the music pleasant, grew a little weary.

“Billy, you could publish this research in an academic journal. Countless people would thank you,” Holmes said cheerfully.

“But I don’t think this is my research; I’m merely applying the results,” Billy replied hesitantly.

After a moment’s thought, Holmes said, “I previously suggested you write a popular science article. You can include this reagent there. With the circulation of Detective Notes magazine, someone will certainly try this experiment. You don’t need to claim you discovered the reagent yourself; just say you heard about it elsewhere.”

Holmes then pulled from his bookshelf a volume of Watson’s Holmes detective stories and tossed it to Billy. “Even with Watson’s renown as an author endorsing it, you’ll need some skill to get it published. You can study how Watson writes and use it as a reference. But remember, Watson writes fiction; you’re writing popular science fiction. While making it engaging, maintain scientific rigor. Don’t exaggerate or alter facts like other popular science novels do, especially avoid cutting content merely for entertainment—that’s Watson’s narrative flaw.”

At that moment, Watson, who had just returned home and opened the door, froze. Why was he immediately being scolded by Sherlock?

Billy, hearing the commotion and turning around, thought: This is so awkward! How is he supposed to respond?

Unfazed, Holmes looked at Watson and said, “Once Billy finishes his article and I’ve reviewed it, we’ll have Watson take a look and suggest edits. But remember, Watson and I can only assist. You must write it yourself. If we make major changes, our names must be credited.”

Billy quickly nodded, “Having you both oversee this is already a great fortune.”

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“Watson, this afternoon we went fishing again and found several jewels matching the list. Please deliver them to Miss Morstan.”

Watson, surprised by such a pleasant turn of events, smiled. “Mary thinks Billy’s suggestion is excellent, but she doesn’t know anyone suitable for selling these jewels…”

“Didn’t we meet a jeweler during the previous case? I’ll write a letter of introduction for Miss Morstan,” said the decisive Holmes, already pulling out paper and pen to begin composing.

“I was planning to write a letter too, but I think he might trust you more,” Watson admitted sheepishly.

“If that jeweler were a lady, perhaps she’d prefer you. But he’s a gentleman,” Holmes replied casually.

Billy thought: Something about that doesn’t sound right.

“As long as you want, Sherlock, winning over a lady is effortless for you. You just usually don’t bother.”

“Ha! Winning someone’s favor is merely a means to an end, regardless of gender.” Holmes finished the letter, folded it, and handed it to Watson.

“Yes, yes, dear Sherlock is always so purpose-driven.”

“As a detective, aimlessly chasing clues only complicates cases,” Holmes said, turning to Billy, who wore a strange expression. “Throw away those wild ideas in your head. Regardless of gender, I’m not interested in anything beyond friendship with them!”

Watson was startled by Holmes’s sudden declaration and looked at Billy in shock.

Billy thought: Seems even when silent, Holmes can read my thoughts from my expression.

Feeling awkward under Watson’s astonished gaze, Billy cleared his throat. “Haha, I don’t judge anyone’s interests, as long as they don’t harm others. Just that Holmes’s words made me think a little.”

Watson took a step back, feeling a bit uneasy.

“All right, Billy, finish your dinner and get to bed early. Tomorrow morning, first look over Watson’s book, then start writing your popular science article. There are also Detective Notes magazines on the shelf—you can use the articles there as references.”

Billy obediently went to eat. Lately, his appetite had been voracious—perhaps Mrs. Hudson’s cooking was too good, or maybe it was because he was still growing at eighteen, or recovering from a serious illness. Whatever the reason, he could eat a lot, often requiring the maid to bring seconds.

The next morning, after quickly scanning the articles in Detective Notes and rereading Watson’s Sherlock Holmes case collection, inspiration struck.

Taking a pen, he wrote the title on the paper: “The Making of a Great Detective.”