If I actually write this down, am I going to turn up a couple of days from now with several bullets in my back, ruled a suicide?
Huh?
Cloris offered no comment on what Mary had said. She simply kept her head down and pretended to be tidying her notes.
"Ahem." A moment later she cleared her throat twice, breaking the charged, faintly suffocating atmosphere.
"So - so, Miss Morstan, what's your view on Miss Charlotte Holmes?"
She changed the subject at lightning speed, steering that blazing gossip-fire toward a different battlefield.
At the question, the softness that had lingered in Mary's eyes a moment ago gave way to her usual calm.
"Charlotte Holmes, hmm..." She picked up the glass of water on the table and took a small sip, the gesture elegant and perfectly composed.
"Honestly, I don't know her all that well. Our paths haven't crossed much, at least not enough to call it familiarity."
Mary said it easily, with no hint of disdain or distance. She was simply stating the facts.
"That said, I know she's brilliant," she admitted freely. "Calling her the smartest person in all of Imperial College wouldn't be an overstatement."
She'd lifted Charlotte up and set her on a pedestal.
Cloris nodded, wrote something in her notebook, then raised her head again.
"Then do you have any thoughts on the working relationship between Miss Holmes and Student Watson?"
"Thoughts?" Mary tilted her head, looking mildly surprised by the question.
"I don't really have any thoughts on that..." she said. "But if I had to say something, I'd say they're partners who understand each other very well."
Mary went on.
"Just like The Times put it - one solves the cases, one translates them for the rest of us. They complement each other beautifully. And besides that, she's very lucky."
"Lucky?" Wilson asked, curious. "Lucky how?"
"A detective with a temperament that difficult, finding an assistant who understands her that well - isn't that lucky enough?" Mary countered with a smile.
"..."
Cloris's pen dug a heavy line beneath the word "lucky."
A woman's intuition told her that word was absolutely not as simple as it looked on the surface.
She wanted to press further, but both her sixth sense and her instinct for self-preservation were telling her to shut up.
So Cloris drew a deep breath and decided to obey them both.
"All right, then - Student Watson-"
Russell, meanwhile, was leaning back in his chair with the air of a man who had nothing to do with any of this.
When he heard Cloris say his name again, he raised an eyebrow.
"Hm?"
"One last question." The girl looked at him with a smile. "And then this interview is over."
"Oh, right, sure." Russell nodded. "Go ahead."
"What I'd like to know," Cloris said, taking a deep breath, "is what you think of Miss Morstan."
The words landed, and Russell froze where he sat.
Mary went still along with him. She kept her poised smile in place, but her body had already tensed without her meaning it to.
"Mary, huh..." Russell started to speak, and a whole crowd of adjectives surfaced at once.
"Dignified. Gracious. Beautiful. Elegant... clever?"
He listed them off one by one, and Wilson obligingly wrote each one down, glancing over at Mary's posture now and then.
The girl still sat perfectly upright, the corners of her mouth curved slightly, as though those words rather agreed with her.
But had he watched a little longer, he would have noticed that with every word Russell said, the tips of Mary's ears grew a shade redder.
"Is that enough?" Russell asked. "I can come up with a couple more if it isn't."
"Mm..." Cloris pondered for a moment, then shook her head.
"Student Watson, everything you said is lovely, and all of it is accurate. Those really are words that suit Miss Mary Morstan."
She paused, weighing her phrasing.
"But by the same token, they could apply anywhere, to any lady at any social gathering. And that isn't what I'm asking. What I'm asking is..."
She glanced at Mary, then pulled her eyes away just as fast.
"You and Miss Morstan sit at the same desk, correct? So the two of you must know each other fairly well. What I want to know is - in your eyes, what kind of person is Miss Morstan?"
"Uh... perfect?" Russell said.
"Not the polite kind of answer you'd give at a party," Wilson said, working up his courage. "I mean... I mean... what you actually think. Do you follow?"
He couldn't get any further. Some things can't be said too plainly.
But Russell understood him perfectly well.
So you want me dead, then?
The classroom went quiet for several seconds.
Then Russell turned his head and looked at Mary.
Mary was looking back at him.
Those deep blue eyes were full of curiosity and anticipation, and a trace of nervousness so faint it was almost invisible.
She didn't rush him. She only watched, waiting for the real answer.
In that instant, Russell found himself remembering what had happened in this classroom yesterday afternoon.
That was a secret that could never, under any circumstances, be made public.
And at the very least, nothing substantial had changed between them since.
Nothing had been confirmed. Their day-to-day conversations went on exactly as before.
So... friends, for now, I suppose.
That was what Russell thought.
Whatever it turns out to be later, that's what it is right now.
At last he drew a deep breath and looked away.
"Her, huh..."
The moment he spoke, all three of them fixed their attention on him.
Cloris's pen hung suspended in midair. She hardly dared to breathe.
Wilson gripped his fountain pen until his knuckles went white.
Mary held her posture, but her breathing seemed to stop for a beat.
"To me... Mary is..."
Finally, under those three eager stares, he took a deep breath and gave his answer.
"A very good friend," he said, and his tone was sincere. "The kind of friend who makes the time go by fast."
The classroom fell quiet again for a few seconds.
Cloris's pen hand hovered in the air, her expression complicated - part deflated expectation, part relief.
At least now she had something she could actually print.
She shot a quick glance at Mary, snatched her gaze back just as quickly, and bent her head to pretend she was organizing her notes.
A very good friend.
The kind of friend who makes the time go by fast.
She turned the two sentences over silently, then copied them into her notebook in neat, careful handwriting.
Beside them she drew a small asterisk - a memo to herself:
This part is printable. Perfectly safe. Nothing will happen.
Wilson, meanwhile, looked blankly at Russell, then at Mary, apparently unable to grasp why that answer had made the air in the room so strange.
He started to say something, then caught the look Cloris shot him and wisely shut his mouth.
As for Mary - the girl simply smiled, gracious as ever.
She said nothing at all about Russell's assessment. She just turned her head toward Cloris.
"Any other questions?"
"No - no, that's everything!"
Cloris snapped her notebook shut, moving as though one more second in that room might set off something she couldn't control.
"Thank you both so much for your cooperation! This interview is going to be wonderful!"
Wilson stood as well and bowed, muttering "thank you, thank you" under his breath.
Russell got to his feet and glanced at Mary.
Mary rose too, smoothing her skirt with unhurried grace.
"We'll be off, then."
Russell nodded to the pair of them, then walked out of the empty classroom with Mary.
They went side by side, their footsteps echoing softly down the empty corridor.
"A very good friend."
Mary spoke without warning, her voice light, carrying the faintest trace of amusement.
"So that's what I am, in your eyes."
There was no telling from her tone whether she was pleased or not.
Russell's steps hitched.
He turned his head to look at her.
"...What else would it be?"
Mary finally turned and met his eyes.
Those deep blue eyes were still full of warmth and laughter - and something else, something Russell couldn't quite read.
"Nothing."
She gave a small shake of her head, looked away, and walked on.
Two steps later, she stopped.
She glanced back. Sunlight fell across the side of her face, gilding her silver hair with a halo of pale gold.
"Although-"
She paused.
"A friend who makes the time go by fast doesn't sound so bad, does it?"
And with that, without waiting for Russell to answer, she turned and kept walking.
Friends...
You can never really be friends with someone you've truly loved.
Because even one more glance would make you want to keep them.
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