15 Jewelry

The time was eight o’clock in the evening.

After much coaxing from Holmes and Watson, Arna reluctantly left her golden sword with 9,999 damage points behind in her room. She had tried puzzle games before but never had the patience to continue; all her acquired puzzle games now gathered dust in storage.

—But playing these games alone was entirely different from teaming up with skilled companions and enjoying effortless victories, wasn’t it?

After all, a true expert was someone who, even when their inexperienced teammates accidentally smashed the most valuable treasure in a scavenger game, could still make up the required costs by hunting monsters!

With that thought, Arna brimmed with confidence.

“Are you sure we can resolve… um… the issue the Viscountess needs help with tonight?” she asked, trying to recall what he had just mentioned. “About the blackmail and the stolen jewels?”

Holmes walked briskly along Baker Street, the gas lamps flickering intermittently and casting shadows on his sharply defined profile.

“Sure?” he scoffed. “My dear Easas, certainty is the refuge of the unimaginative. But if you must know, yes, we shall settle everything tonight.”

He led Arna down a narrow lane, navigating the uneven roads of London as if it were his own home, taking a detour through dark, blackened alleys.

On either side were likely taverns; muffled voices could be heard through the walls, and the faint strains of violin music lingered in the air.

“The one requesting Lestrade’s help is Viscount Luthorby,” Holmes said quietly. “Of course, the stolen jewels are connected to the Viscountess—they are part of her dowry, a priceless emerald.”

Arna held her breath, blinded by the imagined sparkle of the jewel, and quickly interrupted, “Priceless? How much is that exactly?”

Just a little greed, right?

It’s all players, after all! Just players!

Holmes tapped her forehead firmly with a finger, prompting a sharp “Ouch!” from Arna.

“Three thousand pounds,” he said. “Don’t even think about it.”

Rubbing her forehead, Arna sighed in dissatisfaction.

“Alright, alright, go on,” she said listlessly.

“The one helping outsiders blackmail this couple is the Viscountess’s former maid, now employed by the Viscount’s political rival,” Holmes glanced at Arna, “a rather clumsy scheme, really.”

He adjusted his gloves. “According to my analysis, while the Viscountess hosts a gathering tonight, the maid will meet her employer near the greenhouse—to prove her worth—and she will bring the jewels with her.”

“So?” Arna, completely lost on the analysis, asked plainly, “What do I have to do?”

“You need to pose as a new servant and help me intercept the maid,” Holmes explained, striding forward. “In ten minutes, Luthorby’s staff will be waiting for us.”

He pushed open a door, revealing the vast garden of the Viscount’s estate. “Once you see her inside, stop her. When the blackmailer arrives, I’ll handle him.”

Arna’s eyes gleamed with determination, fully understanding. “Got it.”

Her hand already moved to the zipper of the backpack behind her, inside which gleamed a golden axe.

Holmes was speaking with the butler and took a set of clothes from him. “Change into this, then…”

With a terrified look from the butler, Holmes turned and dryly asked, “When did you put on the bag?”

Arna remained expressionless and calm. “The bag has been with me all along.”

Under Holmes’s steady gaze, Arna reluctantly handed her bag to the butler for safekeeping and hastily slipped into the clothes handed to her.

“All right,” Holmes finally seemed satisfied. “That’s settled. Stop her however you see fit. Bribe her, threaten her, flirt with her…”

He paused. “Of course, best to avoid excessive force.”

Then Holmes winked. “But if unavoidable, I suggest aiming for the knees—to slow her escape.”

With that, he waved his hand and swiftly slipped away through another small door, agile as a hunting dog catching the scent of a wild rabbit.

Arna, led by the butler, moved near the greenhouse and began searching for the suspicious maid.

She wandered near the greenhouse, soon distracted by the fish and glittering coins in the fountain. She stepped closer.

So much money! So many pennies! Several coins gleamed with bright gold—clearly very valuable.

Just then, a hurried woman rushed from another direction and collided with Arna with a bang.

The velvet handbag in the woman’s hand flew out, striking the fountain’s sculpture, spilling its contents noisily to the bottom of the pool.

Arna tumbled and rolled, then dazedly rose and helped the woman up.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

The woman was petite, with dark eyes, staggering back a step.

Up close, she could not have been older than twenty-five; her carefully styled curls framed a pale face.

“Th-thank you,” she said weakly. “I’m fine. Not hurt.”

Her eyes kept darting to the pool, as if wanting to retrieve the fallen items. “Are you new here?”

“Yes,” Arna said, glancing at the fountain. There was a faint glimmer of green. “Do you need help?”

Realizing Arna was looking at the lost items, the maid’s fingers twitched instinctively, then she forced a fragile smile.

“Ah, that’s my… lavender sachet,” she stammered. “For calming nerves. Not important.”

Arna paused, then brightened.

She quickly knelt by the fountain, reached in, and easily found the cold, hard emerald.

“Seems that definitely isn’t yours,” Arna said, holding it up with satisfaction. “It’s mine.”

Three thousand pounds! Three thousand!

The maid lunged at her wildly, but Arna put her hands behind her back and deftly dodged the furious attack.

“You said it wasn’t yours,” Arna said righteously. “What, trying to rob me?”

“Give it back,” the maid whispered, her voice trembling. “Please. You don’t understand—if I don’t do this, he’ll kill me—”

“Kill who?” Holmes suddenly appeared. “Whoever it is, this plan is over now.”

He pressed the tip of his cane against the blackmailer’s back, pushing him forward. “A ridiculous farce.”

He freed one hand and gestured toward Arna.

Clutching the jewel tightly, Arna looked at him pleadingly. “...Really can’t keep it...”

Holmes stared at her, silent.

Arna gave in.

Fine, she couldn’t keep the quest item… blasted game developers!

She handed the emerald to Holmes, feeling as if a piece of her soul had flown away with the three thousand pounds.

Holmes pocketed the jewel and pinched the bridge of his nose.

Turning to the maid, his voice softened, tinged with kindness. “As for you—the Viscountess has agreed not to press charges, provided you testify in court to identify this man.”

He nudged the blackmailer, who looked even more defeated.

The maid’s eyes widened.

She seemed shocked, looking between Arna and Holmes before covering her face and bursting into tears.

Holmes looked somewhat alarmed at the scene.

He tried to signal Arna with a subtle elbow nudge, urging her to comfort the woman quickly.

Snapping out of her daze over losing three thousand pounds, Arna sympathized and gently patted the maid’s shoulder.

“Well, well,” she said kindly, “at least we both lost a three-thousand-pound gem together today. You’re not alone. Feeling better?”

Amid the maid’s louder sobbing, Arna fell silent, while Holmes gave her a warning glance.

After the police arrived and took the blackmailer away, some time passed, but the butler who was supposed to collect the jewel did not appear.

Guessing the Viscountess’s intentions, Holmes sighed. “Well, it seems we’ll have to deliver the jewel ourselves.”

With that, he led Arna down another path.

Arna’s sharp gossiping mind rang up a question.

“The Viscountess?” she blurted, “The one who admires Watson?”

Holmes faltered in his step.

“Uh, yes,” he cleared his throat. “Including inquiries about whether his medical services cover treatment for loneliness.”

Ahead, the gilded door to the main sitting room shimmered faintly. Holmes finally stopped and revealed a sly smile.

“She even said she kept a signed portrait of the Queen by her bedside,” he whispered. “Our poor doctor nearly swallowed his tongue upon hearing that.”

Arna’s eyes widened.

Before she could respond, the door inside opened, revealing a lavishly dressed woman with a plume of ostrich feathers in her hair.

“Seems you’ve been waiting,” Holmes murmured, then bowed dramatically.

“My lady,” he said loudly, “your emerald and your maid’s continued employment are secured. May we trouble you for a moment? My companion apparently got her sleeve wet in the garden.”

The Viscountess’s gaze slid to Arna, admiring her disheveled state.

Then, inexplicably, her expression softened.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she sighed, reaching out to pat Arna’s cheek. “Come in at once.”

Holmes raised his eyebrows slightly, while Arna, pulled by the arm, looked around bewildered and down at her nearly dry sleeve.

… Go inside? To get wet again?

Seeing her confusion, the Viscountess shook her head and led her to a luxurious dressing room, gently closing the door behind them.

Arna opened the wardrobe.

She saw a vast array of clothes.

Her eyes widened in sudden understanding.

After a while, she emerged from the dressing room, chest out and head held high.

The Viscountess, who had been eyeing her, seemed quite pleased.

“So refined. Quite fitting,” she mused, adjusting Arna’s cuffs and pulling out a delicate brooch from her pocket to pin on her—though the linger at the collarbone was somewhat suspicious. “You must dine with me next Thursday. I have new Venetian silks that will make you even more beautiful.”

Arna stared wide-eyed and glanced helplessly at Holmes.

She felt something was off. This didn’t seem like a proper reward scene.

Holmes was by the sitting room fireplace, warming himself, like a cat that had swallowed a cake whole and was content.

Catching Arna’s gaze, he coughed—an unmistakable sound barely holding back laughter.

Or rather, not barely holding back—it was outright laughter.

“My honor, madam,” Arna said stiffly to the Viscountess’s intense gaze.

She mumbled a few words and, clutching her backpack returned by the butler, dragged Holmes away into the deep night.

Even in this awkward situation, Holmes’s mouth didn’t rest.

“Well, that was enlightening,” he said earnestly. “Still want the emerald?”

“Shut up,” Arna wrestled with the expensive brooch pinned to her chest, trying to remove it.

“I didn’t say a word,” Holmes protested.

“You’re breathing proudly.”

At the accusation, Holmes finally burst into laughter.

“Think of the bright side,” he tossed his pocket watch up and caught it effortlessly. “Like your patent fees being secured, gaining a new admirer in high society, and…”

“And it’s not even one o’clock yet,” Arna’s eyes landed on his watch, her attention completely diverted.

She rummaged in her bag and, to Holmes’s astonishment, pulled out a fishing rod.

“Wait a moment,” Arna said confidently, finding a spot by the nearby river. “I have a feeling we can catch some good fish here!”

With the case solved and nothing else pressing, Holmes sat beside her.

“All right, my friend, no problem,” he joked. “Fish congee for breakfast tomorrow sounds good.”

Half an hour later.

Watching Arna reel in clam after clam from the river, eventually even pulling up a heavy box, Holmes was silent as he used a small knife to open the clams and check for pearls.

Together, they found nine iridescent little pearls among the clams, and the heavy box held some gold bars—seemingly quite old, likely lost by someone.

Their value far exceeded the money earned from tonight’s case.

“A huge haul!” Arna declared cheerfully as her watch showed 1:40 a.m. “We’re done!”

Remembering Holmes was also short on cash and had yet to receive this week’s gift, she generously handed him a gold bar. “Here, spend it. Don’t be shy.”

Holmes stared at the gold, then at Arna, then at the fishing rod, looking at it as if it were a wand defying the laws of physics.

“I spent years perfecting deductive science,” he said slowly, “and you’ve already surpassed it with folk wisdom and a stick.”

Arna glanced at her rod and tossed him a pearl.

“Sticks are for sale, too,” she declared grandly. “For Aunt’s sake, a firm price—two hundred pounds each.”

Holmes laughed heartily and caught the pearl.