Chapter 5: The Scandal of the Bohemian Queen (2)
Translator: RaidenTL
Chapter 5: The Scandal of the Bohemian Queen (2)
“Out of the way! Move!”
“…Aargh!”
The young nun, who had rushed in to fend off the menacing vagrants, let out a cry of pain. She collapsed to the ground, struck by a blade one of them had brandished as a threat.
“Mr… Mr. Adler!”
“Are you alright, sir?”
Just then, a group of people—presumably my household servants—came charging toward us from a distance. The vagrants bolted immediately, vanishing from sight as fast as their legs could carry them.
In the end, the only ones left at the scene were me and the blood-soaked young nun.
If an oblivious bystander had witnessed this, they would have sung praises for the nun’s otherworldly bravery.
Holmes was right all along.
That was the conclusion I drew as I knelt beside her, pretending to check her injuries.
I discreetly dabbed a finger into the "blood" she was shedding and tasted it. It was red paint.
Regardless of gender, Holmes was still Holmes. Had I been unaware of the plot, I would have been thoroughly deceived by such a startling performance.
“Please forgive our incompetence, Mr. Adler.”
“We… we made a mistake. We should have come further out to greet you…”
“I have nothing to say in my defense.”
As I pondered how to navigate this overwhelming situation, the late-arriving maids and servants began to kneel before me one by one.
“We’re sorry…”
“Please, have mercy…”
Observing them closely, I noticed some of the maids had turned pale with fright, their eyes squeezed shut as they trembled incessantly.
“I admit I failed to lead them properly. I will take the punishment on their behalf, so please, spare the others, Mr. Adler.”
The maid speaking from the front of the group remained on her knees. I noticed dark bruises and welts marking her neck.
…This is absolutely insane.
I finally understood why the students at the detective academy gave me such cold, piercing glares.
It seemed the Isaac Adler I had possessed was a truly despicable human being.
“…How is the nun?” I asked, attempting to change the subject.
“She seems to be badly injured, sir.”
“She looks like she’s dead.”
I directed my gaze toward Holmes and questioned the gathered entourage. The maids glanced at me momentarily before beginning to murmur among themselves.
“She isn’t dead yet. However, she might not last the trip to a hospital,” the butler assessed.
“………”
Judging by that, it seemed Holmes even knew how to fake a critical medical condition.
“She… she was a brave nun. Without her, Mr. Adler would have been in danger…”
“We can’t leave her lying on the street like this. May we take her into the mansion?”
I listened intently to the head maid and the female butler.
That’s exactly Holmes’ strategy.
Holmes had orchestrated this entire event to gain entry into the mansion, aiming for the photograph of the Bohemian Queen in my possession. The rogues from earlier were undoubtedly actors she had hired.
Once we brought her inside, a fake fire would likely break out shortly after with Watson’s assistance. Holmes, who would be lying "lifeless" in the room until then, would seize that opportunity to track my movements and see where I hid the evidence.
“Support her and bring her to my room.”
I had to capitalize on this.
After all, the ‘Scandal in Bohemia’ was the very first episode where Holmes suffered a defeat. If I simply mimicked Irene Adler’s actions from the original story, the photograph would remain safe, and I could deliver a heavy blow to Holmes’ pride.
“Sh-should we clean her up…?”
“We’ll bring her in right away.”
The female butler silenced a surprised maid’s murmur and began carrying Holmes toward the house.
Just follow the original story. Just follow the script.
I might not know every specific detail since the game was still in development, but this world was fundamentally based on the Sherlock Holmes series. Having read the four novels and fifty-six short stories multiple times, I was confident I could survive.
Of course, surviving and tackling the absurd quests that made me want to laugh like a lunatic were two different things. For now, I needed to focus on the incident at hand.
“Where are you heading, Mr. Adler?”
“Ah…”
As I moved with resolve, I halted and widened my eyes when the butler called out to me.
“Pleased to meet you, Mr. Isaac Adler.”
““Pleased to meet you!””
Several dozen servants had lined up in front of the mansion to greet me.
And among them, not a single one was male.
He really was something else.
I began to wonder intensely just what sort of diabolical deeds the original Isaac Adler had committed in London.
*
Holmes, carried by the butler and Adler, entered the vast mansion.
…Good. Everything is going according to plan.
Dr. Watson, who had been watching from the shadows of a nearby alley, recalled the conversation she’d had with Holmes just moments before.
“The photograph is likely inside the mansion. Adler might carry it on weekdays, but since it’s the weekend, he’s probably stored it somewhere in the house.”
“But I heard the Queen’s agents have searched the house several times already.”
“Heh. If the issue could have been resolved by that lustful Queen, I wouldn’t have taken the case.”
“So, how do you plan to find it?”
“Simple. I’ll make the target reveal the hiding place himself.”
As she spoke, Holmes had changed into a nun’s habit that clung tightly to her frame.
“When faced with a crisis, a person naturally rushes to secure what is most valuable to them. Men are inherently predictable like that.”
“Hmm.”
“Of course, being the ‘Scum of London,’ Adler will certainly, in his panic, head straight for the photograph.”
“Yes, that makes sense.”
Watson didn’t always agree with Holmes’ methods, but she wholeheartedly agreed that Adler would exhibit such behavior.
“Once I’m inside, I’ll find an opening to signal you. At that moment, throw a smoke canister through the window.”
“And then?”
“Shout at the top of your lungs: ‘Fire! There’s a fire!’ That is your mission for today.”
Recalling the plan, Watson took a deep breath and looked toward the mansion.
Those women…
The maids appeared to be around the same age as Holmes. As they welcomed Adler with bowed heads, Watson noticed the bruises and wounds on their necks and arms.
Is he abusing them?
As a doctor, she recognized the signs immediately. Those marks weren’t fresh; they were the result of prolonged mistreatment.
What a piece of trash…
Watson’s eyes burned with a sense of justice. Only a moment ago, she had felt guilty about involving innocent people in their scheme. Now, those concerns vanished.
If they succeeded in retrieving the photograph, the Queen would surely deal with that scum. Then, freedom would finally come to those poor girls.
—Thud!
Lost in thought while prowling the perimeter, Watson looked up at the sound of a window opening.
—Whoosh.
Seeing Holmes’ signal, she steeled herself and pulled a smoke canister from her coat.
Please let this work, Holmes.
She threw the canister into the room with all her might.
“…Inhale…”
Taking a deep breath, she cupped her hands around her mouth like a megaphone, preparing to scream.
—BOOM!!!
Suddenly, a massive explosion erupted before her eyes. The shockwave sent her flying backward.
“Ugh…”
Watson tumbled across the pavement before slamming hard against a stone wall.
—Whoooosh!
Her vision blurred as she saw Adler’s mansion completely engulfed in massive, roaring flames.
“Fi… fire… Why is it real…?”
Muttering weakly, the impact of the collision finally took its toll, and Watson lost consciousness.
*
“Hmm…”
Holmes, who had been lying in Adler’s room, gripped her throbbing head as she struggled to sit up.
“I’ll be damned!”
Her vision cleared to reveal the room’s interior transformed into a furnace. Her head was now genuinely bleeding.
Had Watson thrown a firebomb instead of a smoke canister?
As that thought crossed her mind, Holmes spotted the smoke canister rolling on the floor, leaking its harmless, viscous vapor. The canister Watson threw wasn't the cause of this disaster.
The fire didn't start here. It’s coming from the living room.
Holmes tried to analyze the situation, noticing the dense, black smoke seeping through the gaps in the door.
The living room windows were all closed. This wasn't an external attack; it started from within.
Two possibilities occurred to her. Either Isaac Adler had anticipated her plan and took preemptive, drastic action, or someone—given Adler’s horrific reputation—had committed an act of terror against him.
…This is a problem.
Either way, the situation was dire. She had taken a paralytic drug to make her "unconscious" act perfect, and now her body was largely unresponsive. The drug’s effects, combined with the shock of the blast, left her severely compromised. She wouldn't be able to get out of bed on her own anytime soon.
“…Tsk.”
Holmes’ expression turned icy. If Adler had intended this explosion, he would have already taken the photograph and fled. Even if he hadn't intended it, if he were dead or the photo wasn't in this room, the outcome was the same.
The only "good" outcome was the grim hope that Adler would be caught in the fire and perish.
…But there’s no way a mana user would die here.
To make matters worse, Adler was one of the rare mana users in the world. His audacious behavior was only possible because he was one of the few mages in England, treated with the same status as the high nobility. Rumors said his skills were mediocre, but it was still unlikely a mage would die in a common house fire.
I need to change the plan before it’s too late.
Faced with a total collapse of her strategy, Holmes clicked her tongue and began brainstorming an escape.
Clomp, clomp…
“……?”
She tilted her head, alerted by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the door.
“Cough, cough!”
A ragged cough echoed from the hallway.
—Creak.
Holmes quickly shut her eyes and feigned sleep. Through her slit vision, she saw Adler stagger into the room, his movements frantic.
“Ugh…”
He was covered in serious burns, his clothes drenched in blood. He must have been caught directly in the initial blast.
So the photo is here, after all…
Despite her own condition, Holmes felt a surge of certainty. Seeing Adler force himself into the burning room confirmed the photograph’s presence. A faint, internal smile touched her lips, but she held her breath.
Adler glanced around the room in deep contemplation before his gaze fixated on the bed. He rushed toward her.
“…Found you.”
Holmes squeezed her eyes shut to avoid giving herself away. Adler’s relieved voice whispered near her ear.
Did he hide the photo in the bedframe?
Uncertain and wondering if she should open her eyes—having already searched the bed earlier—she felt something unexpected.
—Whoosh.
Adler’s arms gently wrapped around her waist.
“….? ….??”
For the first time in her life, Holmes was being held by a man. Her thoughts momentarily froze; her brain simply stopped processing.
“That was a close call.”
Adler murmured with genuine relief, holding her tightly as he turned back toward the exit.
“…Bloody hell…!”
After carrying her out and placing her safely in the mansion’s courtyard, Isaac Adler turned his limping, battered body back toward the inferno.
““………..””
The servants gathered outside watched Adler with expressions of pure disbelief.
Faced with a crisis, he will opt to save what is most valuable to him.
Holmes, watching the scene unfold, suddenly recalled the words she had confidently told Watson earlier.
Men are inherently such creatures.
The gaze of the proud genius, whose convictions had never wavered since the day she was born, trembled violently in that moment.