Chapter 21: Sherlock Holmes Undressing

Billy froze, his mind already conjuring an image of two men with a vast height difference—it seemed a bit too conspicuous. It was as if Henry Hughes, positioned between them, would perfectly complete a Wi-Fi signal.

"Judging by the tracks, it is clear that two people coerced Hughes into walking in that direction," Holmes said, standing up and following the footprints inward.

Billy and the police officers hurried to follow. Even Hatton trailed along, driven by curiosity, though he was careful not to step on any nearby tracks for fear of being scolded by the clearly irritated Detective Holmes. After all, the way the detective had forcibly hauled him away earlier was proof enough of his formidable strength; if he truly provoked the man, he might well end up being beaten. He had heard that this Detective Holmes never bowed to power and would refuse a case even if offered a hefty sum by a nobleman, provided it didn't pique his interest. He could get away with such behavior, of course, because of his reputation as the greatest detective in England; no one wanted to provoke him and risk having their entire life unearthed.

Billy, meanwhile, was contemplating who might have taken Hughes. The man was merely a common telegraph operator, dragged into this solely due to the romantic entanglements between his brother and Catherine. Could it be that the person seeking to harm Catherine had also discovered her involvement with others and decided to take their anger out on Hughes? Billy felt this reasoning was a bit far-fetched, but according to his memories from his past life, many things in this world were simply unreasonable. However, he could not draw any conclusions yet, as there was no evidence; everything had to be backed by facts.

The group arrived at the riverbank—the very spot where Billy had intended to fish earlier. It was three or four meters wide, with a depth that appeared to be over a meter. Even though more than a day had passed, the lack of foot traffic and animal activity meant the scene remained clear: after the three of them reached the bank, a violent struggle had clearly broken out. The ground was marred by messy footprints and signs of scuffling.

Billy instantly realized those two thugs had abducted Hughes with the intent of throwing him into the river to drown. But why not kill him outright? Perhaps they intended to knock him unconscious first. After all, Hughes was an adult male; two people alone could not have easily subdued him. They likely used the element of surprise, threatening him with a dagger to lure him to the river, only to knock him out or kill him before pushing him into the water to dispose of the body. Billy saw no blood nearby, which gave him a glimmer of hope regarding Hughes’s current state.

Hughes had clearly been thrown in, as the two abductors had left from the other side, and their tracks did not include his. The footprints were quite distinct; even Hatton, who knew little of such things, saw the clue and began to gloat: "So the guy just got tossed into the river? Ha! That must be Catherine's other lover."

"Both Catherine and your rival are dead, which only increases your own suspicion," Billy remarked, unimpressed by Hatton’s display.

The two policemen following them turned their suspicious gazes toward the laughing Hatton, causing his smile to freeze instantly. He immediately returned to an expressionless mask: "But it really has nothing to do with me. I didn't even know who he was; I really did pick up that letter by accident!"

Seeing the man's flustered state, Billy continued, "The one thrown into the river wasn't your rival, but your rival's younger brother. He was only here to deliver a letter for his brother."

Hatton let out a sigh of relief, but his brow instantly furrowed: "Could it be related to Catherine's death? Was he implicated because of his brother? But Catherine’s only lovers were me and his cheap brother. Could there be others?"

Billy: ...How was he supposed to answer that?

"Wood, Perry, Roberts, Burton, and these four. The six of you were all lovers of this lady simultaneously," Holmes, who was carefully examining the scene, replied casually.

Hatton, who had been hesitant before, now looked as if he were falling apart. Billy could clearly hear his rapid breathing; he suspected that if Catherine weren't already dead, the man would have stormed over to her house immediately. But when he had only known about one other lover, he had already done exactly that.

"How could she? How could she!" Hatton shouted in fury.

The two policemen nearby looked at Hatton with profound pity; it seemed this fellow had been wearing more than one pair of horns. While they had vaguely heard rumors of the widow's romantic exploits, which widow didn't have such gossip? Once a husband was dead, a woman was free to love, and it was common enough to have one or two entanglements. But they hadn't expected it to be a whole group of men! And it seemed none of them knew about each other. This widow certainly had a way with men.

After finishing his inspection, Holmes frowned: "No blood, no residue. We need to follow the tracks they left behind."

With that, Holmes set off, tracing the footprints until they reached a gravel road, where the tracks vanished without a trace. Based on Holmes’s deduction, a horse must have been tethered to the nearby tree, as there were friction marks on the bark and signs of grass having been grazed by a horse. The two men had likely departed by carriage, and the trail ended there.

However, Billy’s eyes met Holmes’s, and they both knew the trail hadn't truly gone cold. There was still one way: for Billy to use his "cheat" and fish in the river. Perhaps he could pull up something useful—an item dropped by the perpetrators or even the murder weapon. He hoped the weapon would be distinctive; otherwise, they wouldn't be able to identify the killer through the recovered items. Billy recalled the stones, daggers, and vials of medicine he had previously fished out of the Thames. If it were just items like those, their leads would truly be severed.

But with outsiders present, Billy couldn't use his ability. The party returned to Catherine’s residence. The maid had already written down everything the woman had consumed in a day, and Holmes took the list to examine it carefully. Billy stood by his side; it was clear that Miss Catherine had a rich diet. Breakfast was standard—a drink with bread or toast, butter, and jam. Lunch was far more opulent: beef with Yorkshire pudding, fruit tarts, and coffee. Dinner consisted of beef curry, bread, stewed apples, and a glass of red wine. Nothing seemed particularly out of the ordinary.

The officer in charge of the case leaned toward Holmes, asking in a low, obsequious voice: "Mr. Holmes, the technicians here are limited in their ability to detect poisons. Perhaps you could re-examine the evidence to ensure there are no mistakes?"

Holmes did not refuse: "I have another matter to attend to. I shall come to the police station this evening."

Without lingering, Holmes hurried away to find Miss Mett. "Miss Mett, we have found a clue regarding Mr. Hughes, but the location is somewhat dangerous, and it would not be convenient to take you there."

Miss Mett looked excited, but her expression dimmed at his next words. Seeing the resolute look in Holmes's eyes, she finally said, "I will find a hotel to stay in."

"We shall take you there. This case will likely not be resolved today, and we shall book a room nearby," Holmes said, commandeering Hatton’s carriage, as it was the only one that could seat four.

Hatton, however, could not leave, as he was now the primary suspect. He was forced to remain under police surveillance, watching helplessly as Holmes departed in his own carriage. After dropping Miss Mett off at a hotel and booking a room next to hers, Holmes and Billy returned to the site of Hughes's disappearance.

Holmes did not ask the coachman to wait, telling him to return to Hatton instead; they had work to do that required privacy. Billy hesitated, wanting to say something, but Holmes didn't look at him, walking toward the riverbank as he said, "Do you not wish to share a room with me? I thought that, given your insistence on staying at Baker Street earlier, you would feel safer in my company. If you prefer otherwise, I shall have another room opened for you upon our return."

Billy shook his head immediately. He hadn't expected Holmes to have considered even that, and he marveled at the great detective's foresight.

They soon arrived back at the riverbank, near the spot where Hughes had been thrown in. "Very well," Holmes said cheerfully. "I know you have a folding fishing rod in your case. Start fishing."

Billy looked at the clear riverbed. He could see a few fish swimming by and green water weeds swaying in the current. But the weeds were sparse and could never conceal a body. How was he supposed to fish in a place that looked so empty?

"Should we go downstream to fish?" Billy asked hesitantly.

Holmes laughed. "My dear Billy, have you not realized? Even though the culprit scattered those precious jewels five kilometers along the Thames, you managed to pull almost all of them out from a single fixed location. This proves your magical ability is not hampered by where an object falls. As long as the item is in this river, you can catch it."

With that, Holmes tossed his cane aside, removed his deerstalker cap, and began to take off his coat.

Billy was left dumbfounded by the action. "Mr. Holmes, what are you doing?"

"Why, I am going into the water to see exactly how you manage to pull up these magical things," Holmes replied as he undressed, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "The Thames was far too polluted, even upstream; I feared I would fall ill if I swam in it. This river seems quite decent. Though it may well harbor a corpse, what river doesn't have a few?"

Billy: ...

Holmes moved with lightning speed, quickly stripping down to nothing. Billy panicked, wanting to look away, but found his gaze fixed on the detective's solid, well-defined muscles. They weren't the exaggerated muscles of a gym instructor, and in a suit, one would never guess; he looked like an ordinary, lean, tall gentleman. But without his clothes, one could clearly see his firm, athletic build, devoid of any excess fat.

British gentlemen of the time almost always wore three-piece suits, meaning their skin rarely saw the sun. Holmes’s skin was incredibly fair, almost blindingly so under the sunlight. When would he ever have such a physique? Billy stole a downward glance—ah, as expected of Holmes, he was impressive everywhere.

Billy blushed and hung his head in a panic, fumbling to open the case he had been carrying and pulling out the folding rod. He assembled the line, hook, and bait—keeping a distance from where Hughes had fallen to avoid disturbing the site—and finally cast the hook into the river.

By then, Holmes had already jumped into the water.