1836: I Became a Literary Giant in Great Britain

Chapter 86 Why did you all take it so seriously? (Bonus Chapter, please subscribe)

That's right, that's Scotland Yard.

Just like there's no wife in a wife cake, Scotland Yard isn't in Scotland either.

In the Middle Ages, this was the palace where the Scottish royal family stayed when they visited London, and later it became a street called "Great Scotland Yard".

In 1829, the police headquarters was located in Whitehall, and the public entrance faced this street, hence it became commonly known as Scotland Yard.

(Former site of Scotland Yard)

At this moment, the atmosphere at the headquarters of the London police was terrifyingly oppressive.

"A bunch of useless trash!"

Military Commissioner Sir Charles Rowan slammed a copy of Bentley's Notebooks onto his desk with a loud thud.

At that time, Scotland Yard did not have a so-called Director; instead, it operated under a dual commissioner system.

The top leadership consists of two commissioners who jointly lead the organization and have equal power.

Sir Charles Rowan was responsible for the discipline, organization, and training of the police, implementing militarized management.

Sir Richard Maine, a lawyer by training, was responsible for legal, policy, and foreign affairs.

Sir Charles, a lieutenant colonel in the army and a veteran of the Napoleonic Wars, held immense prestige in Scotland Yard.

He roared at the trembling police officers in front of him: "Now, even a shoeshine kid on the street dares to point his finger at us officers and tell them how to protect a crime scene!"

"They called us Lestrade and Gretchen! Do you know what that means? It means that in the eyes of all Londoners, we're a bunch of complete idiots!"

The officers kept their heads down, not daring to breathe.

Because that is indeed the case.

Scotland Yard was already in a difficult situation at the moment.

Arguably the most controversial government agency in all of London, it is contemptuously referred to as "the live lobster," "the blue devil," and "Peel's Bloody Gang."

Police officers are often verbally abused, spat on, and attacked with stones while on patrol, and are even beaten and stabbed.

In 1830, a police officer was even found guilty of "justifiable homicide" after dying in the line of duty, demonstrating the deep-seated animosity among the public.

And since the publication of A Study in Scarlet, Scotland Yard has had an even harder time.

When police officers are on duty, there is always a group of "enthusiastic citizens" standing around pointing and commenting.

"Officer, watch your step, don't disturb the footprints!"

"That cigarette ash, quick, put it in an envelope, it might be an important clue!"

This caused Scotland Yard, which was already criticized for its low crime-solving rate, to lose face completely.

Sir Charles vented his anger and waved for his men to get out.

The office door was closed, and the room returned to silence.

He sat back down in his chair, exhausted, and rubbed his aching temples.

A moment later, Sir Charles opened the bottom locked drawer of his desk.

From inside, he carefully took out a brand new copy of "Bentley's Notebooks".

He opened the magazine, picked up a pencil, and began to read carefully while frantically taking notes in the margins of the pages.

When he saw Holmes' analysis of the footprints, he even drew a diagram on the notebook next to him with a ruler.

It's unclear how Michel's brain works. Although it caused Scotland Yard a lot of trouble, objectively speaking, the various crime-solving strategies and techniques he wrote about in his novels were actually quite feasible in his eyes as a professional.

For a fleeting moment, Sir Charles even considered arresting Michelle to investigate the case.

Although he knew it was just a fictional story, it all felt incredibly real!

After a long pause, Sir Charles raised his head, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

Finally, he called his secretary over and, in an unquestionable tone, issued the order: "Pass the word that starting next week, all police officers' training manuals must include provisions for crime scene protection, especially regarding the preservation of footprints and evidence!"

Meanwhile, in a high-end club salon in London's West End.

Several critics known for their acerbic writing are also struggling with a book called "Bentley's Notebooks".

They had intended to buy this popular magazine and write a critical article to satirize this kind of "popular fiction" that catered to the masses.

But after they actually finished reading it, everyone fell silent.

One of the most renowned critics held his pen hovering over the paper, unable to bring it down.

Fine beads of sweat even appeared on his forehead.

He was horrified to discover that he couldn't write a single negative review.

In fact, he himself was captivated by the stories of Sherlock Holmes.

How could this be considered vulgar, low-brow literature?

This is a completely new literary form with an incredibly rigorous structure and precise logic, unlike anything seen before!

Michelle is not writing a simple crime story.

He's establishing a new school of thought!

But fortunately, he is indeed a professional commentator.

It didn't take long for me to adjust my mindset.

If it's hard to criticize, then isn't it easy to praise?

then...

For the first time ever, The Times' literary review section dedicated an entire page to an article written by that famous critic.

The title of the article is "The Birth of a New Novel Form".

In the article, the critic departed from his usual acerbic style and praised "A Study in Scarlet" and "The Silver Horse" with an almost fanatical tone.

He called Michel's writing style "the art of logic" and asserted that a new literary genre called "detective fiction" had been officially born with the appearance of Sherlock Holmes.

This article completely ignited the entire British cultural scene.

They realized how ridiculous their previous prejudice against "popular fiction" was.

Michel proved with his work that stories can not only be captivating, but also carry rigorous wisdom and profound insights.

Meanwhile, the editorial office of Bentley's Journal was already overwhelmed with the euphoria of victory.

"Reprint! Reprint immediately! Keep the printing presses running 24/7! If they break down, it's on me!"

Boss Richard Bentley stood atop a mountain of orders, waving his arms, his fat face trembling violently with excitement.

The warehouse has been empty for a long time.

Outside the office, booksellers and distributors from all over the country lined up, waving checks, hoping to get an extra hundred copies of the magazine.

Bentley felt like he was about to faint from happiness.

The wisest decision he ever made was signing that "sky-high" contract with Michelle.

Looking back now, that wasn't an exorbitant price at all.

That's an absolute steal!

Compared to the hustle and bustle of the office, a corner of the editorial department appeared particularly crowded.

Several employees were frantically sorting through the letters that were flying in like snowflakes.

"Another one for Mr. Holmes..."

'

"Me too, my God, this is already the third sack today!"

The postmen at the post office are on the verge of a breakdown lately.

Every day, hundreds and thousands of letters are sent from all corners of Britain to an address that cannot be found on any map—221B Baker Street.

In fact, 221B Baker Street, where Sherlock Holmes lived, was a fictional address created by Conan Doyle.

Although Baker Street still exists in London today.

But the street is very short, and the house numbers only go up to the eighties, not the two hundred or so.

It wasn't until the 1930s, with the reorganization of London's neighborhoods and the renumbering of addresses, and the extension of Baker Street to the north, that 21st Street officially became a physical address...

Normally, at this time, most letters are sent with payment upon delivery.

However, due to the special circumstances, the post office had no choice but to forward these letters to Bentley Monthly.

The senders of these letters were a diverse bunch, and the contents of the letters were even more bizarre.

A wealthy woman wrote to him seeking help, saying she suspected her husband of having an affair and hoped Mr. Holmes could help her find evidence.

A farmer in the countryside claims that his breeding cattle have mysteriously disappeared and begs the great detective for help.

There was even a letter from Manchester in which a factory owner described in detail the commercial fraud he had been scammed and attached a fifty-pound cheque as a deposit.

Readers have completely lost sight of the line between reality and fiction.

In their view, Sherlock Holmes is a real person!

He must be living in that apartment on Baker Street, playing his violin every day, doing chemistry experiments, and waiting for the next bizarre case to arrive.

In fact, it's not the fault of the British people today that they can't tell the difference.

Later, a bank took over the office at that address...

Because of this address, the bank receives a huge number of letters addressed to "Mr. Sherlock Holmes" from all over the world every year. As a result, the bank had to create a special position called "Holmes Secretary" to handle these mails, and this continued for decades.

This phenomenon left Dickens and Bentley both bewildered and amused.

This is certainly the best proof of Michelle's writing success, but it also brings a sweet trouble.

What should we do with these letters?