Chapter 7: Suspicious Traces

Page (1/3)

However, the two who arrived here did not find the person who had posted the job advertisement. When they asked the landlord, he said that someone had rented the place a little over a week ago, but only for one week.

Still, this office room had not been rented out to a second person yet. After Holmes explained that he was here to investigate a missing person who came for an interview, the landlord promptly opened the door and let them in.

Especially after learning that this detective was the famous Sherlock Holmes, the landlord even pulled out a familiar book titled The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes by an author named John Watson, and asked Holmes to sign it with a pen he produced.

Billy: ...

He felt an odd sense of amusement. Usually, it should be the author being asked for an autograph, right? But having Holmes sign a book about Holmes himself didn’t seem entirely out of place either.

Seeing the book, Billy suddenly thought that if he could write books while working part-time as Holmes’s assistant, he might earn some extra money. That was not unusual for this era. Many ordinary people, as well as clergymen and scientists, had a passion for writing. Some sought to publish their books through publishers directly, while others serialized their works in magazines or newspapers before compiling them into books.

Billy knew this because a certain person from the lower district had succeeded in selling a novel to a publisher. But that was rare. After all, most people in the lower district barely completed basic education. Very few had the literacy and time to write books.

Of course, being Holmes’s assistant would make it easier to write about Holmes’s cases, but obviously, Watson was already doing that. Billy didn’t think someone like him—a small assistant from the lower district, with hardly any formal education—would be allowed by Holmes to do the same.

Could he write those kind of sensational novels popular with later generations? But he felt he wasn’t good at that either.

The thought passed through Billy’s mind briefly before he quickly shifted his attention back to the room.

The room had not been cleaned recently, but since it had been unused for only a few days, there was hardly any dust.

What caught Billy’s eye first, however, were the drawn curtains, which seemed odd.

When they first opened the door, they were a bit unaccustomed to the dim light inside. The landlord kindly tried to draw back the curtains, but Holmes stopped him immediately and told him to leave.

After adjusting to the light, Holmes entered the room but did not draw back the curtains. Instead, he approached the gas lamp inside, examined it closely with a magnifying glass, and then lit it.

Light blossomed once again in the room, allowing Billy to see clearly.

It was a simple office room, arranged for interviews with two chairs and a table. The chairs were positioned on either side of the table, clearly to facilitate face-to-face conversation between interviewer and interviewee.

Besides that, there was a wooden cabinet for files, but nothing was placed on it.

The room was unusually clean, so much so that it made Billy wary. He couldn’t say why, but it was an instinctive feeling.

After observing for a moment, he understood the reason. If many people had come for interviews, at least some dirt from their shoe soles would have been tracked inside. But apart from a thin layer of dust barely noticeable, nothing else was left behind.

Perhaps the tenant who rented the place cleaned it thoroughly after the interviews—someone with an extreme obsession for cleanliness?

But why draw the curtains? That was another anomaly. Even for night interviews, most people would not close the curtains when the gas lamp was lit.

Unless the person being interviewed was involved in something secretive or illicit. Thinking of Gask’s expertise in cryptography, a dangerous impression flashed through Billy’s mind. Could this be a spy?

Page (2/3)

He recalled the tenant’s name left with the landlord: Peter Pov, a very ordinary name with no distinguishing features.

Billy sniffed the air in the room. Apart from the stale smell caused by the door being closed for some time, there was also a faint scent of lavender.

But lavender was already an overused scent by this time, as mass cultivation had turned it into a cheap fragrance found in many soaps and perfumes.

That didn’t quite fit the social status of either the interviewer or the interviewee. Would someone offering an interview with a salary of fifty pounds use lavender-scented soap or perfume?

And someone skilled in cryptography, capable of devising a new code system, probably wouldn’t rely on such a cheap fragrance either.

But maybe they simply liked the smell of lavender? Billy withheld judgment and continued to observe carefully.

Holmes, however, was faster in his scrutiny. He squatted down to examine the floor before him.

This spot faced the interviewer’s table, but not directly opposite—rather at about a 45-degree angle, as if...

As if someone sitting in the interviewee’s chair had just fallen and landed there.

A chill ran through Billy’s heart. He hurried over and squatted down too, finally noticing something off about the wooden floor.

The plank in front of Holmes had a slightly different shade than the others. Though wood tones varied naturally and some scratches were present from moving furniture, this one was darker in a suspicious way.

The edges of the darker patch were irregular—not bumpy or warped, but as if liquid had been spilled and then wiped, leaving that shape.

While Billy was mulling this over, Holmes already crouched closer, propping himself on the floor with one hand as he sniffed the dark stain.

Billy: !!!

To be honest, Holmes’s sudden action startled Billy. But then he reasoned that Holmes must have sensed something and wanted to identify the substance by smell.

Without modern forensic tools, detectives and police had to rely on their senses to find traces left by suspects.

Could this be a bloodstain that had been wiped clean?

As Billy pondered, Holmes swiftly took action, pulling out a tool from his pocket and prying up the floorboard with the dark stain.

Billy’s jaw dropped in shock. At this moment, he felt Holmes’s pockets must contain everything imaginable, and yet outwardly showed nothing—truly a remarkable skill.

There was more than one stained plank. After prying up the first, Holmes lifted another, clearly intending to take both back for analysis.

Did tools for blood detection exist at this time? Billy recalled that in the original stories, Holmes and Watson had devised such a method when they first met.

This brought some relief, though he also felt it was somewhat inconvenient—if only they had luminol reagent, they could just spray it and even faint blood traces would glow.

Billy suddenly felt a shiver. He even remembered how to make luminol reagent!

What was he in his previous life? A chemist? How could he know all this?

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall his past identity. He frowned in frustration and decided he might suggest to Holmes to develop luminol reagent, then subtly guide him during the process.

After prying up the two floorboards, Holmes wasn’t finished. He meticulously inspected the entire room, pacing back and forth, with Billy closely following to watch how he examined the scene.

But aside from the suspicious floorboards, there were no other findings.

Since they suspected blood, Billy checked places a suspect might have touched—the curtains, the door handle, the chair backs—but found no blood fingerprints.

A new idea sprang up in Billy’s mind: perhaps he could make some powder to reveal latent prints, like graphite powder.

What were latent prints? The thought startled him, but naturally the answer came to mind—those invisible fingerprints that appear only when gently brushed with powder.

Of course, different surfaces required different tools.

He knew such professional knowledge?

Billy felt even more unsettled. Who had he been in his past life? If not a police officer or forensic expert, how would he know so much about crime scene investigation?

But he was definitely not a specialist; otherwise, such skills would be second nature, not something he learned by following Holmes around.

Before he could think further, Holmes had already taken the two floorboards and left the room. Smiling, he handed the landlord a shilling, then got into the carriage with Billy, carrying the evidence.

“Billy, what do you think this is?” Holmes asked cheerfully, turning to him.

Without hesitation, Billy answered, “It could be blood, but it might be something else. That spot was probably the first crime scene, but it’s clearly been cleaned carefully.”

Holmes raised an eyebrow. “Dear Billy, you seem quite gifted at detective work. That’s truly a delightful thing.”

Billy felt cold sweat break out on his forehead. Holmes’s gaze was piercingly sharp for a moment, then softened so quickly it seemed like an illusion.

Still, Billy sensed Holmes was already suspicious again. His powers of observation were extraordinarily acute!

Could he really keep his little secrets hidden from this famous detective? Billy thought it impossible.