Russel lay on the bed for a while, carefully planning his next move, when a knock sounded at the door.
"Mr. Watson, it's ti for dinner."
The maid's voice ca from outside the door.
"They've arrived."
Russell rose from the bed, quickly straightened his appearance, and stepped out of the room.
"Let's go."
"Just a mont, please."
As Russell was about to leave, the maid stopped him and stared at him intently for a mont. Then she glanced sideways and nodded to another colleague.
At that point, Russell finally noticed there was a second person present.
"Mr. Watson, please change your clothes before the al."
Another maid entered the room and opened the closet. Inside hung a row of perfectly tailored formal wear.
"Please stand in front of the mirror."
At the maid's sowhat forceful invitation, Russell reluctantly stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror.
He looked at his reflection—his ordinary trench coat—then at the sharp, elegant tailcoat in the maid's hands, and finally understood what was happening.
"Wait, what is this?"
"According to court etiquette, formal attire is required for dinner."
One of the maids explained with a perfect smile.
"No, no, I understand that. I was just wondering… how the size of this suit…"
"Lord Mycroft prepared one that fits you perfectly."
"…Alright."
Russell said nothing more and quietly cooperated with the maids.
They skillfully removed his trench coat and dressed him in the perfectly fitted formal wear. Bow tie, cufflinks, vest—every detail had been ticulously prepared.
A few minutes later, when Russell looked in the mirror again, the figure reflected there was completely different from before.
The well-tailored black tuxedo perfectly accentuated his tall, slender fra, while the white bow tie and shirt added an elegance and dignity befitting high society.
"Not bad at all."
Russell muttered to himself as he gazed at his reflection.
"That outfit suits you very well, sir."
The maid praised him from the side.
Once changed, Russell was led by the maids toward the banquet hall.
By the ti he arrived, Charlotte and Mycroft were already seated.
Charlotte had changed into a black evening dress. Her usually slightly disheveled black curls were now neatly arranged, flowing smoothly down to her shoulders, making her look younger and gentler than usual. She rested her chin on her hand, lightly tapping her fingertips on the table with a hint of impatience, as if she had been waiting for a long ti.
"You're three minutes late."
The mont Russell appeared, Charlotte imdiately inford him of the ti.
"It took a while to change."
Russell sat down opposite her.
"You…"
"They insisted it was a matter of etiquette."
"You look great. Much better than usual."
Russell remarked.
"The sa goes for you."
Charlotte retorted without hesitation.
Mycroft watched the two bicker with a smile, not interrupting.
After a while, another set of footsteps sounded from the direction of the door.
Both Russell and Charlotte turned toward the sound, but Mycroft had already stood up one step ahead.
"Stand up."
He reminded them in a low voice.
Russell and Charlotte exchanged glances and rose from their chairs at the sa ti.
The visitors were Queen Alexandra, Princess Louise, and King Edward VII.
"Your Majesty."
Mycroft placed a hand on his chest and bowed. His posture was flawless.
Russell and Charlotte followed suit, offering the standard greeting to the three.
"Please be seated."
The Queen's voice was full of dignity, yet not overly distant.
"Tonight is a family dinner, so there is no need to be overly formal."
After speaking, she took the head seat.
The King sat beside her, and Louise obediently took the opposite side.
Russell and Charlotte sat down again, their postures noticeably more reserved than before.
"This must be Miss Charlotte Hols?"
The Queen's gaze turned to Charlotte.
"Yes… yes, Your Majesty."
Charlotte replied.
"I have heard Mycroft speak of you many tis. He says you are a genius even wiser than himself."
A faint smile appeared on the Queen's lips.
Charlotte said nothing, simply nodding lightly to accept the praise.
Then the Queen's gaze shifted to Russell.
"Who is this gentleman?"
"Russell Watson, Charlotte's assistant."
Mycroft provided a tily explanation from the side.
"An assistant?"
The Queen raised her eyebrows ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly, and looked back and forth between the two n for a mont.
"I wouldn't have guessed."
"Your Majesty is correct," Charlotte suddenly said in a calm tone. "He is rely an errand boy who also cooks."
Russell, seated across from her, twitched the corner of his mouth.
Hearing this, the Queen chuckled softly, which eased the King's stern expression.
"You two seem to have a good relationship."
The servants quickly brought out the dishes one by one. From the caviar appetizer to the main course of Steak Wellington and on to dessert, every dish was crafted like a work of art. Russell savored these supre delicacies—ones he had only seen in recipes—while carefully minding proper table manners.
The atmosphere of the dinner, which the Queen had intentionally created, was not as heavy as he had imagined. She occasionally introduced the dishes to Russell and Charlotte and asked about the cases they had been involved in. However, since they were still in the middle of the al, it was difficult to discuss many of the cases in detail.
Charlotte and Russell clearly were not accustod to such high-society settings and appeared montarily flustered by the Queen's proactive approach.
In the end, it was Mycroft who quietly took over the conversation, preventing the heavy burden on the Queen's shoulders from weighing down the room.
Freed from the predicant, Charlotte began focusing intently on the food on her plate, as if completely unaware of her surroundings.
anwhile, Russell desperately tried to recall the aristocratic etiquette he had almost forgotten, fearing he might accidentally use the wrong cutlery. At the sa ti, he noticed that Princess Louise, seated across from him, was occasionally sending curious glances his way.
As the dinner drew to a close, the Queen spoke again.
"By the way, Mycroft…"
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"What are your plans for tomorrow night?"
The Queen asked directly.
"How do you intend to catch that insolent thief?"
…
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