221B Baker Street.
After a busy day, Russell returned to his tiny apartment, slipped out of his thief outfit, changed into comfortable home clothes, and sprawled on the bed.
Before sleeping, he brought up his system panel to check his latest stats.
Name: Russell Watson
[Reputation: Somewhat Notable (Malice gain +10%)]
[Occupation: Phantom Thief]
[Skills: Stealth (C+), Climbing (C), Combat (C+), Recon (C), Listening (C)]
[Note: Certain attributes now eligible for upgrade]
[Malice Points balance: 850]
Recent actions:
Successfully provoked Mary Morstan's competitive spirit: +100 Malice
"Not bad, at least I didn't lose anything." Russell closed his eyes in satisfaction, not even depressed by the fact his profit tonight was zero.
If the morning papers covered his story, or Miss Morstan went to Scotland Yard, the malice points would accumulate soon enough. After all, the malice of someone who lost something was just an appetizer.
The real "goldmine" was Scotland Yard itself.
He held up the sole loot of the night—a dazzling sapphire brooch, pure gold, worth more than the life of most men. The thing was smaller than his palm, but worth a fortune.
Ah, the evils of capital.
Tomorrow night, he'd return it, maybe stir up a fresh round of malice in the process.
After all, even if he wanted to profit, someone had to be willing to buy. Miss Morstan had already been provoked; he might as well keep playing the villain.
Most of Russell's ill-gotten gains, he usually returned sooner or later. He didn't really have a way to cash them in, and returning them often kicked up new waves of negative emotion.
You shouldn't exchange malice for money.
With a yawn, Russell mapped out his plan for tomorrow, then drifted off, dreamless.
…
Next morning:
Russell woke early, got ready, and went downstairs for his daily check-in.
He crept behind the person busy in the kitchen and gently tapped her shoulder.
"Oh, Mrs. Hudson..."
"Ahh!" Mrs. Hudson spun, her expression a mix of helpless exasperation. "Russell, you startled me again!"
"Just saying good morning," Russell grinned, pulling out a chair and sitting down at the table.
[You startled Mrs. Hudson. +10 Malice]
"What's for breakfast today?"
"What else! The usual—fried eggs and toast, never gets old."
She shot him a reproachful look, but soon brought over a steaming breakfast, adding two sausages out of genuine kindness.
"Hurry and eat. Isn't today the college opening ceremony? Don't be late."
"Mrs. Hudson, you're like a second parent." Russell clasped his hands in exaggerated thanks, then grabbed his utensils.
"You're such a flatterer, you know that?" Mrs. Hudson laughed, turning away to polish her precious silver, muttering as she did.
"Oh, by the way, a letter arrived yesterday. Someone's finally taking that vacant room next door. You're getting a new neighbor, Russell."
"A new neighbor?" Russell raised a brow.
"She's about your age—a first-year at Imperial too. Maybe you'll meet on campus."
"Mind your manners, will you?" Mrs. Hudson poured him milk and added, "And don't go pulling pranks right away."
"Don't worry, Mrs. Hudson. I'm a model gentleman."
If she's a female classmate, then it can't be Sherlock... right?
"You?" Mrs. Hudson clearly didn't believe him, but his handsome face disarmed her irritation.
"Honestly though, her brother is a big shot. Be careful not to land yourself in trouble."
"Yes, yes." Russell answered noncommittally, finishing his breakfast quickly.
Bidding goodbye, he rushed to the Imperial College London ceremony just in time.
The grand auditorium was packed.
He crouched low, snaking cleverly to a nondescript back corner, getting ready to quietly ride out this soporific affair.
As expected, the principal's long address was boring—Russell's eyelids drooped. His mind wandered—why hadn't Scotland Yard's malice yet appeared in his stats?
Did Lestrade not hate him anymore? Had he forgotten all their tussles?
As Russell daydreamed, a girl took the stage to give the freshman speech. He recognized her immediately—the girl with silver hair and blue eyes from the Morstan estate last night.
Surely, it couldn't just be a coincidence?
"My name is Mary Morstan, and it's my honor to represent the incoming class."
Her voice—calm and clear, touched with cool detachment—was the voice he'd heard last night.
Her name too, Mary Morstan—was that just chance? Wait—
Russell's head snapped up, his gaze sweeping across the shadowed crowd to the stage. Her long silver hair flowed like moonlight, softly glowing beneath the hall's chandelier. Her uniform fit closely, skirt just above the knees, accentuating her svelte figure.
Wow. It's really her.
Shouldn't she be waiting at home for the police to take her statement? Why is she here as a freshman rep?
Mary finished her speech and, bowing slightly, sent a calm glance roving over the crowd. Her gaze swept past reverent, admiring, and curious faces, and without warning, settled right on the back corner—on Russell.
For a brief instant, their eyes met—he felt pinned in place.
But only for a heartbeat—Mary's gaze slid on, perfectly composed as she exited the stage.
Russell exhaled in relief, deciding his sudden spike in heart rate was just normal guilt.
With Mary's smooth voice ended, the ceremony drifted back into the principal's tedious formalities.
Russell wouldn't stay.
With Stealth (C+), unless he made noise, he'd almost never be spotted.
Let's get this started.
Slowly, scanning his surroundings, he edged toward the back exit.
If he could just get there—
But just as he reached the outer door, a tall, slender figure appeared in the open doorway.
…