Ready-Made Muscle

"I didn't say anything," Sitangna said in her own defense, raising both eyebrows.

"You were thinking it."

"All right, it was just a fleeting thought."

This time it was Sherlock's turn to glance sideways. He gave Sitangna a long look, then turned and headed for the dining room. Left behind, Sitangna took a long time to calm herself down.

"Oh my god, Guoguo! Did you see? His eyes are even bluer than they look on screen, like the lakes in Jiuzhaigou. They even look green when the light changes. What amazing heterochromia!"

"Why does his face look even younger in person than it does in the show?"

"And looking at him like this, his face isn't even particularly long. Maybe his curly hair and strong, prominent features make up for it a little. Who called him a wrinkly freak? He's a total heartthrob in person, okay?"

[Stop! Quit fangirling and pull yourself together. Don't forget his ridiculously high IQ, or you'll be the tasker who's exposed faster than anyone in history.]

"Okay, okay, okay. I just need to take a deep breath. It's only natural when it's my first time seeing my idol in person. Don't worry, I'm good at acting. Inhale~~ exhale~~"

[As for why the protagonist looks younger, Nana, you didn't even finish reading the beginner's handbook, did you? The task worlds aren't virtual. They're parallel worlds derived from films and TV shows, and they really exist.]

Judging from the case details, Sherlock in the show should have been around thirty-seven or thirty-eight, while Watson was three years older than him.

Although Watson and Sherlock here still looked like young men in their thirties, they did look younger overall than their counterparts in the show, with far fewer wrinkles.

[Wipe that evil smile off your face. You're here to do a romance strategy task, so don't start shipping them yourself, okay? Put aside your habit of shipping everything. This is a boy-girl romance route, sis! My one and only sis!]

[You! Had better! Remember that!]

"Aren't we partners? Why are you ordering me around like that?" Sitangna frowned. "I'm a living, breathing person, Candy."

"Before I was crushed to death, before I was bound to you, I was just an ordinary girl. I liked British and American fandom crossovers, and I self-shipped with quite a few characters, but I had my own little hobbies too."

"I'm not a fujoshi. I just appreciate all beautiful bonds, and that's how I see Sherlock and Watson too. Whether you see it as love or friendship has nothing to do with me."

"You're not me."

Sitangna reached out and gently touched Candy, her tone softening. "I know I'm doing a task for the boy-girl group, and I'll gradually work on my own issues, but you can't keep criticizing my thoughts based on a one-sided view."

[...Sorry, Nana. It's my first task too, and I got anxious... I was afraid we wouldn't be able to finish it...]

"Don't worry. Everything's only just begun, hasn't it?" Her greatest strength was how exceptionally adaptable she was.

[Mm-hmm, let's do our best together!]

[And a reminder: all the worlds after this one are real, just like the world you came from, so you have to blend into each world as much as possible.]

[I know that's a little hard, since the people in special worlds are all very smart, but I know you can do it.]

After taking in that dose of encouragement, she still voiced her question.

"So I don't have any special abilities at all? If I end up in a world with magic later, how many episodes would I even survive?!!"

Sitangna kept it short and hinted for the system to hurry up and give her a golden finger.

[There aren't any golden fingers for now because this world has no fantasy elements. But once you complete the task, you'll get a chance to draw one, and you'll also have a life-saving skill in every world, so there's no need to panic.]

"Fine, getting one later works too. Otherwise, if I ended up in the Marvel world, where there's a fight every other day, wouldn't I be reduced to ash in minutes?"

[Don't worry~]

"Nana, come eat."

After bringing all of dinner to the table, Mrs. Hudson called the youngsters in the house to eat. Sherlock had already started eating by himself, and his elegant, leisurely manner made the late-arriving Watson grind his teeth in annoyance.

Mrs. Hudson was quite a good cook. Sitangna, who hadn't expected much from British food, ate a surprising amount. None of them had a habit of keeping quiet at meals, so conversation continued throughout dinner.

Most of the time, Mrs. Hudson asked Sitangna how she had been. She had been separated from her family over there for so long that there was much she didn't know or no longer remembered.

"Yes. After my parents divorced, I stayed with my grandmother and went to school there. I was just accepted into an exchange program at the University of Cambridge this year. My grandparents are getting old, so my uncle and his family took them in to look after them."

As they talked, Mrs. Hudson felt increasingly sorry for her young niece and kept murmuring about the poor dear. Sherlock, rarely subjected to such scenes, couldn't help frowning.

He couldn't relate to that kind of feeling, but he was still polite, so he showed no other expression throughout.

"Oh, right, I remember Sherlock went to the University of Cambridge too, didn't he? That makes you two schoolmates."

Watson was still eating in small bites, while the other three, who had finished, sat and chatted with him.

"Mm-hmm." Sherlock fiddled with his BlackBerry after eating, unwilling even to look up.

"What a coincidence. I'm registering in a few days. I came a week early on purpose, thinking I'd rest for a few days and have some fun before classes start."

Sitangna recalled her character's background. Mrs. Hudson agreed and had been about to ask the two strong young men in the house to look after her niece, but when she thought of how dangerous Sherlock was, she opened her mouth and said nothing.

Watson noticed Mrs. Hudson holding back and said that if he had time over the next few days, he would show Sitangna around London. Sherlock looked up at him.

"No, you won't have time."

"Shut up."

Watson had just finished eating, and he helped Sitangna and Mrs. Hudson clear the table. Leaving the two ladies to do it alone would hardly have been gentlemanly.

"What do you mean? This isn't over yet, is it? I just got this job. Don't go making me lose it."

Watson put on a dishwashing apron and sighed as he washed the plates in the sink. He felt that although he had only just moved in, he had already gained several more wrinkles.

No, it had been since he met Sherlock!

Fortunately, the large check in his breast pocket brought him a little comfort. He magnanimously chose not to hold it against Sherlock and reluctantly forgave him.

Sherlock returned to the sofa on the second floor for a brief rest, his blue dressing-gown belt trailing all the way to the floor. He gazed at the ceiling, lost in thought.

After tidying the dining room, Sitangna returned to the third-floor attic to unpack her things. Unnoticed, his gaze swept over the fluttering edge of her clothes at the stairs.

The girl gave him a strange feeling. There had clearly been no sign of her existence before; it was more as though she had stumbled into this world by accident.

Innocent, yet carrying secrets.

Because Sitangna was taking part in a university partnership program, she didn't normally have to attend classes. She only needed to report in when tasks were assigned at regular lab meetings.

That was why she had come to stay with Aunt Hudson. Living in the city was much more convenient for getting around than living in the university town.

Fortunately, her program wasn't very difficult, and with the system's help, she had nothing to worry about on that front. Her only problem now was how to stay by Sherlock's side.

When he was working on cases, he was away from home every other day, and Sitangna was very worried about the task's progress.

She had obtained a little energy during dinner, and the system's depleted energy bar had finally stirred. Nourished by it, Sitangna immediately felt her senses sharpen and became much more efficient at unpacking.

Seeing the plain room filled with her little belongings, the hoarding-prone Sitangna finally felt comfortable. She opened her laptop to check her bank balance and plan her life going forward.

"Holy crap!!! I'm a millionaire!"

A cry rang out from the little apartment's attic, startling the birds on the roof into scattering.

"What is it? What happened? Where's the cow?"

Watson couldn't understand the sudden outburst in Chinese, but he still called up to the attic in concern. Sitangna coughed a few times; she had nearly cracked her voice shouting.

"Nothing! Nothing's wrong, I'm fine. Thanks for asking."

She had almost forgotten that her current identity was a rich second-generation heir whose parents didn't love her. Being left unsupervised made it much easier for her to do her task.

It felt amazing to go from poor to rich overnight. She would go on a wild shopping spree in London to make up for the poverty of the first half of her life, then discuss the task!

Sleepy, Sitangna slipped into pleasant fantasies and soon fell asleep.

She didn't dream that night.

She had stayed up late unpacking, and being new here, she had also tossed and turned, unable to sleep. As a result, she didn't wake until two that afternoon. Seeing her looking around the empty house, Mrs. Hudson explained that the two fellows had gone out early that morning.

"Apparently there's been some kind of serial case lately. They're basically never home during the day these days."

By the time Sitangna finished dawdling and came downstairs, it was nearly three. Mrs. Hudson had saved her a piece of yesterday's leftover apple pie for lunch, and she warmed it up and curled up on the sofa to eat.

After a while, she moved the apple pie aside and sniffed the sofa. A faint trace of cedar still lingered on it, the scent of a fairly classic men's cologne.

"I heard the latest one was last night. That poor child had a bomb on them and stood in the cold wind for a full eight hours before being rescued."

Mrs. Hudson had just taken a sip of hot black tea and hadn't had time to speak when, with a click, the apartment door opened. A group of uniformed officers filed in, Sherlock and an officer at the front, with several people behind them carrying files.

Sitangna recognized Lestrade, the inspector nicknamed the flower of the Yard, who was also an old friend of Sherlock's.

"Oh! It looks like there's a new friend in your apartment. Hello, beautiful lady, I'm Lestrade. I'm terribly sorry if we've interrupted your afternoon tea."

Sitangna wiped away the remaining crumbs and gently returned his offered handshake.

"Hello, I'm Sitangna, Mrs. Hudson's niece."

Seeing the group busy putting up and arranging a clues board, Sitangna tactfully gathered her things and took them downstairs to wash, leaving them space to work.

"Connection, connection, connection!" Sherlock muttered.

"They must be connected." He paced back and forth in front of the wall of clues, thinking about the key to solving the mysterious bomber's third game.

Lestrade stood with his arms folded, listening intently to the man's logical analysis, his eyes full of trust.

"Carl Powers, murdered twenty years ago. The bomber knew him. He admitted it."

"The bomber's phone was wrapped in Czech-made stationery. The first hostage was from Cornwall, the second from London, and judging by her accent, the third is from Yorkshire."

"What's he doing? Showing off that his reach extends all over the world?" Sherlock had yet to find the connection, and his voice was a little agitated.

Ring, ring. The worrying ringtone sounded again, and an elderly voice came through the receiver to the great detective's ears.

"You... love all this, don't you... connect... the dots."

"And... three hours."

"Boom... boom."

Oh my god, it's that poor blind old woman who ends up being blown to death!

Sitangna helped Mrs. Hudson bring up two cups of strong coffee. She had heard everything Sherlock said just now, and with the female presenter's photo on the clues wall, she quickly remembered which case this was.

The third episode of the first season, the third bomb game Moriarty had given him.

[Ding. First task activated: follow Sherlock and solve the remaining cases. Side task: save the hostages.]

As she pondered, Mrs. Hudson also came over curiously to look at the new pieces of evidence Sherlock had added. Sitangna couldn't get too close, so she watched from the side. She recalled the plot and concluded that Watson should be questioning the victim's brother now.

"It's such a shame. I liked her very much. She often taught you how to match colors."

After receiving a call, Sherlock moved over to the fireplace to talk. Sitangna, who had been leaning against the wall, took his place, while Mrs. Hudson watched the news.

"Match colors?" Lestrade asked.

"Things like what colors of clothing go with what." Mrs. Hudson gestured.

"Apparently cherry red doesn't suit me. It makes me look very old. But it should suit Nana. She's very fair and lively, so a strong color wouldn't overwhelm her."

"It seems Mrs. Hudson learned something useful from the show," the inspector said with genuine praise.

Sitangna smiled at her aunt without speaking. Sherlock came back after his call, and Lestrade was curious about what he had just exclaimed.

"Who was that?"

"The Home Office."

"The Home Office?"

"Actually, the home secretary. Owes me a favor."

When Sherlock returned to his place, Sitangna sensibly moved a little to the side. As he answered the inspector, she looked up at the tall, curly-haired detective beside her. Mm, he was a whole head taller than her.

"She was a pretty girl, but she did far too much to herself. Still, they all do it now, those celebrities stiffening up their pretty faces."

Mrs. Hudson shared her thoughts with Lestrade. "It's so silly, isn't it?"

Lestrade didn't understand, so he could only chuckle along with her. Mrs. Hudson turned to Sitangna. "Have you seen her show, dear? Oh, no, you probably couldn't get it in China."

Sitangna understood. It was just the opportunity she needed. To give the police more time to save the hostage, she was sorry, screenwriter, but she was about to disrupt the whole script.

"Auntie, do you mean Botox?"

At her words, Sherlock and Lestrade both looked at her, their expressions different. Sherlock pressed his thin lips together without speaking, and Mrs. Hudson clapped her hands.

"Yes, that's what I was trying to say. Young people have better memories."

Sherlock opened his laptop and played an episode of the show for everyone. On it, the female presenter teased her younger brother, Mr Prince, whose embarrassed expression showed that he had no choice but to play along. The answer was already taking shape in Sherlock's mind.

"John."

Sherlock answered the phone again. Whatever the person on the other end told him, he started packing while he talked, putting the camera and notebook from the cupboard into a large shoulder bag.

Without sparing a thought for the bewildered Lestrade, he walked a few steps, then came back and gripped the doorframe to ask Sitangna a question.

"Are you free now?"

Sitangna pointed uncertainly at herself.

"Me? I'm not really doing anything..."

"Come with me."

"...Oh."

Sherlock activated his skill of summoning a taxi whenever he raised his hand. In a daze, Sitangna followed him into the back seat. After telling the driver their destination, Sherlock promptly handed her a voice recorder.

"Can you use it?" Without waiting for an answer, Sherlock went on.

"Doesn't matter. In a moment, you'll play a reporter making a recording, and I'll be the reporter taking photographs. Remember to pretend to ask him a few questions. Anything will do."

"Oh, okay. Wait, who am I asking?"

"You'll find out when we get there."