Writer 1879: Solitary Journey in France

Chapter 305 We Need a "Moriarty" (Bonus Chapter for 16,000 Votes in September)

The autumn rains in Edinburgh are intermittent, and the sky is always veiled in a thin mist.

But this did not dampen Lionel and Conan Doyle's enthusiasm for their work.

For the next few days, they seemed to be isolated from the outside world, immersed in the story of "The Sign of Four".

The gaslight in the hotel room stayed on all night, and piles of manuscript paper grew larger and larger, densely covered with Conan Doyle's handwriting.

The story of "The Sign of Four" gradually becomes richer and more three-dimensional through Lionel's oral account.

He not only completely recreated the tragedy that spanned two generations, triggered by an Indian treasure, from the original work.

It is meticulously crafted in detail, profoundly and comprehensively showcasing the crimes of British colonization and plunder against India.

The information Conan Doyle provided about London's soil and plants was also cleverly woven into the story.

When recounting Holmes and Watson's pursuit of Jonathan Smooth, who had wooden legs, he emphasized the description of the mixed-breed hound named "Toby".

Lionel's voice carried the vividness of describing a living creature: "Toby is not the kind of dog that looks imposing or has a noble lineage; it even looks a bit scruffy, but there is an extraordinary intelligence and focus in its brown eyes."

When Sherman let it smell the cloth bag containing creosote, its whole body tensed up, and its nostrils flared violently, as if trying to inhale all the complex scent...

It barked softly, its tail standing straight up like a flagpole, full of excitement and eagerness…

As Conan Doyle took notes, he couldn't help but look up, his face beaming with pure joy.

He is a dog lover and has a lively terrier at home.

Lionel's vivid portrayal of "Toby" makes this intelligent hunting dog seem to be right before your eyes, and you can even hear its rapid breathing.

He couldn't help but exclaim, "Fantastic, Leon! Toby is practically alive! Readers will love it!"

The focus and intelligence you described are precisely the most captivating qualities of the Bloodhound!

Lionel smiled slightly: "I have to thank you for providing the information on London Hound breeds and training methods."

While Mr. Sherman is a fictional character, his "professional knowledge" is based on real events.

Conan Doyle felt a sense of satisfaction he had never felt before!

In the subsequent chase scene, Lionel vividly portrayed Toby's abilities.

Led by Toby, Holmes and Watson traversed the dimly lit streets of London, steadfastly advancing toward their goal.

Toby is no longer just a tool, but an indispensable member of the family. Every bark and every pause of his will resonate with readers in the future.

"...[And so, following this strange companion, we navigated the labyrinthine streets, chasing the scent of creosote, until we arrived at a lumberyard by the river. The smell was at its strongest there.]"

Lionel brought this exciting pursuit to a temporary close.

Conan Doyle put down his pen, let out a long sigh of relief, and his face flushed with excitement: "God, this is more exciting than simple deduction!"
Toby's arrival breathed new life into the story!

Lionel nodded: "Detective novels can't just be cold logic and armchair-bound reasoning; there have to be chases, adventures, and collaborations with all sorts of 'experts'..."

These elements allow for a well-paced story and showcase Holmes's ability to utilize all available resources.

These five days of intensive work were not just about completing "The Sign of Four," but for Conan Doyle, it was more like a masterclass in detective novel writing.

In between his narrations, Lionel would patiently explain why he set up the characters in this way, why he foreshadowed certain events at certain points, and why he made the plot take a turn at these points...

And most importantly—how to balance the rigor of reasoning with the readability of the story.

Conan Doyle absorbed everything like a greedy sponge; the margins of his notebooks were filled with key points.

He felt that the previously vague concepts in his mind were being clearly outlined by Lionel, becoming more coherent and systematic...

------

When Lionel finished telling the last section of "The Sign of Four," both of them collapsed from exhaustion.

They rested at the hotel for two full days before they recovered their energy.

Seeing that the weather had cleared up for the first time, Lionel decided to hire Conan Doyle, a local, as his guide to show him around the ancient city of Edinburgh.

They strolled along the cobblestone Royal Mile, with towering spires and sturdy castles appearing and disappearing in the mist on either side.

The cold autumn wind swept through the narrow alley, bringing with it the scent of Beihai.

Lionel pulled his coat tighter around himself and suddenly spoke up: “Arthur, I have a longer-term idea about the future of the Sherlock Holmes series.” Conan Doyle immediately abandoned his leisurely stroll and looked at him seriously: “Go ahead, Lionel.”

Lionel's voice was calm: "A Study in Scarlet and The Sign of Four are just the beginning."

There are many Sherlock Holmes stories, including short stories, novellas, and novels, covering a variety of strange cases.

But I think if we want this series to truly engage readers for a long time and prevent the creators from getting tired, we might need a main storyline.

Conan Doyle chewed on the word: "Main plot?"

Lionel turned around: "Yes. A powerful adversary throughout. Imagine, we need an ultimate villain."

He was almost as intelligent as Sherlock Holmes, and even more gifted in some respects, but he was consumed by wicked desires and willing to create chaos.

Like a spider lurking in the shadows of London, he meticulously wove a web of crime, constantly enticing and manipulating different people to commit offenses.

He himself remained hidden behind the scenes, elegant and aloof. For example, we could call him… Professor Moriarty.

Conan Doyle murmured the name repeatedly: "Moriarty..."

An image immediately came to mind—tall and thin, with a pale face, a broad forehead, and deep-set eyes; polite in manner and eloquent in speech…

The image was so oppressive that it sent a chill down Conan Doyle's spine.

Conan Doyle trembled: "Consulting criminals! Opposing 'consulting detective' Sherlock Holmes! God, Leon, this idea is amazing, so powerful!"

Lionel smiled slightly: "Actually, Arthur, this can also leave us, or rather you, a final release."

Conan Doyle was somewhat puzzled: "Liberation?"

Lionel's gaze drifted to the flags fluttering atop the distant castle: "I mean, what if one day you lose your passion for writing Sherlock Holmes stories..."

Perhaps this could bring a glorious end to this long-running battle between good and evil.

For example, have Holmes and Moriarty perish together, falling into a waterfall or a rapid current...

Conan Doyle practically blurted out, "No! Absolutely not! Leon, how could you think of that? That's insane!"

To kill off Sherlock Holmes? Absolutely not! The readers would never allow it! And I would never do it!

He couldn't imagine that he had personally pushed the detective to his death; it felt like strangling a child who had just learned to run—absurd and cruel.

Lionel simply smiled at Conan Doyle's excited reaction and did not continue the argument.

He patted Conan Doyle on the shoulder: "It's just an extreme hypothetical scenario, Arthur. Don't be nervous. Let's go, the wind is getting stronger, we should head back."

That night, Conan Doyle slept very soundly.

He dreamt that he was standing at the window of 221B Baker Street, with London shrouded in mist below, and in the distance, a shadow was giving him a cold smile.

------

The next morning, Conan Doyle woke up at his usual time.

After washing up, he tidied his clothes and prepared to go to the next room to have breakfast with Lionel.

He knocked gently on Lionel's door, but there was no response, and a vague sense of unease crept over him.

Conan Doyle tried turning the doorknob and found that the door was not locked.

Pushing open the door, the room was empty, with only a folded note on the desk.

Conan Doyle's heart sank. He quickly walked over, picked up the note, and unfolded it.

Above is Lionel's familiar and fluent handwriting:

Arthur: Seeing this letter is like seeing you in person.

I have read and taken the manuscript of The Sign of Four with me. Your notes are excellent, even exceeding my expectations.

I will now finish my work in Paris, and I look forward to seeing you again.

Your faithfulness, Lionel Sorel

(End of this chapter)