Chapter 50: A Study in Scarlet

Tracking a troll is not a particularly difficult task.
You just have to follow that obnoxious stench.
The only drawback is that you cannot get too close.
Even though there are now four of them, combined they still stand no chance against a mountain troll in a direct confrontation.
Fortunately, the troll is quite agile.
It is the ultimate archetype of all brawn and no brain.
Therefore, Sherlock and his companions quickly made their way back from the basement stairs into the corridor.
Following the troll for a bit further, just as its figure came into view once again, Sherlock suddenly stopped in his tracks.
"What's wrong?"
The three following Sherlock all startled.
"Right here."
Sherlock said this while walking off on his own in the exact opposite direction of the troll.
"Ah, well..."
The three, who were already baffled by Sherlock's choice to trail a troll, became even more confused at this moment.
Stalking a troll instead of Snape was already bizarre enough.
Now, after following it all this way, why are they parting ways?
The three of them looked at each other.
Seeing Sherlock turn another corner and about to slip out of sight, they ultimately decided to follow him.
To their astonishment, as soon as they rounded the corner behind Sherlock, they were greeted by a shocking sight.
Ron even blurted out, "Bloody hell!"
The originally pristine, spotless floor now bore five enormous English letters scrawled in blood.
The visual impact of this stark contrast was even greater than their first impression of the towering, majestic Hogwarts.
After a long moment, Hermione—who had been in close proximity to the troll earlier and had developed a certain immunity—attempted to spell them out:
"R-A-C-H-E? Rache?"
Aside from Sherlock, the other three exchanged glances.
Leaving messages in such a bloody manner felt genuinely horrifying to them.
After another moment, Harry swallowed hard and asked in a low voice, "What does this mean?"
"How should I know?"
Ron touched his nose; this was definitely not the kind of thing they should be asking him.
"Rache... Rache... Could it be Rachel?"
Hermione said hesitatingly, "Could it be that they originally intended to write Rachel, but were interrupted by something before finishing it?"
Harry quickly pressed on, "You mean this represents someone's name? Her name is Rachel?"
Hermione nodded, looking somewhat uncertain as she replied, "That's all I can come up with."
She then looked toward Sherlock, seeking confirmation from him.
Harry and Ron did the same.
However, when the three turned their gaze to Sherlock, they found that the latter had already gone into action.
Sherlock had produced a tape measure and a round magnifying glass from somewhere, pacing back and forth around the bloody letters.
Sometimes he stood, sometimes he knelt, and sometimes he even lay flat on the floor, completely disregarding the grim and gruesome surrounding environment.
The three of them wanted to speak up several times, but seeing how busy Sherlock was, they ultimately forced themselves to remain silent.
After about five minutes, Sherlock began examining the blood letters on the floor with the magnifying glass.
Only after inspecting each letter with extreme care did he put the tape measure and magnifying glass away with an expression of satisfaction.
By then, the three noticed that Sherlock had originally stowed them in a specially tailored large pocket on the outside of his robe.
"Thank you for keeping quiet and allowing me to find what I wanted before they arrive."
Sherlock turned around and smiled at the three of them.
"Some say genius is simply an infinite capacity for taking pains. Personally, I don't think that definition is entirely appropriate, but applied solely to investigative work, it fits rather well."
"Who are they?"
"What do you want?"
"What did you discover?"
The three spoke almost simultaneously, yet asked entirely different questions.
Sherlock's gaze drifted past them, looking toward the space behind their backs. "Since I'll just be interrupted the moment I speak anyway, we might as well wait a moment."
The three grew increasingly bewildered by Sherlock's mysterious behavior.
Ron, who had the most impatient temperament, was just about to open his mouth when he heard a sudden, loud sound of approaching footsteps.
Almost simultaneously, Professor McGonagall rushed in at the forefront, closely followed by Professor Snape and Professor Quirrell.
The moment Quirrell, bringing up the rear, caught sight of the massive blood letters, he let out a gasp, collapsed onto the floor, clutched his chest, and began to weep weakly.
Snape immediately wore a look of disgust, taking two steps to the side to put some distance between himself and Quirrell.
However, his gloomy gaze quickly shifted to Harry: "Potter! What sort of foolish game are you playing?"
This time, McGonagall did not shield Harry.
Instead, she looked at Sherlock and said in an icy tone, "Mr. Holmes, I require an explanation."
With just a single glance, she could tell that Sherlock was the ringleader of the group.
Facing Professor McGonagall, whose anger was on the verge of erupting, Sherlock smiled faintly:
"An explanation... isn't it glaringly obvious?"
Harry, Hermione, and Ron: Σ(っ°Д°;)っ
As expected of you!
"It seems the proud Gryffindor doesn't even deign to offer an explanation," Snape sneered, looking like he was just there to watch the show, "even to his own Head of House."
McGonagall said nothing, but judging by her pale lips and ashen complexion, one could easily imagine her fury.
"Do not make me repeat myself. Give me an explanation as to why you were not safely in your dormitory."
"Isn't it obvi—well, fine."
Sherlock sighed with resignation. He genuinely felt the answer was self-evident.
In the current situation, couldn't one deduce what had happened with a single glance?
No explanation should have been necessary.
Unfortunately, circumstances dictated otherwise, and he had to patiently say:
"During the Halloween feast, I noticed Miss Granger was absent.
Given that Ron had upset her earlier this morning, coupled with descriptions from other students, it wasn't difficult to deduce that she was alone in the girls' bathroom.
When Professor Quirrell announced that a troll had entered the dungeons, I suspected she was likely to cross paths with it.
Therefore, I rushed to the dungeons at the first opportunity to get her out."
Hearing this, Ron raised an eyebrow at Harry, conveying a message silently through his eyes:
*See that? This bloke was definitely worried we'd slow him down!*
"...I had good fortune and found Miss Granger before the troll did.
Shortly after, I ran into Harry and Ron, who had arrived for the same reason.
Because the balance of power between us was unfavorable, we had to retreat by a roundabout route.
And that brought us all the way here."
"That's right, exactly as he said."
Just as Sherlock finished speaking, Hermione immediately stepped forward to corroborate his story.
This made Professor McGonagall's expression soften slightly.
As for Harry and Ron, she simply ignored them.
The testimony of those two carried no credibility whatsoever.
"Is this what you call glaringly obvious?"
Before she could speak further, Snape said coldly, "Mr. Holmes, or perhaps you believe the professors should simply guess what you were up to by observation alone?"
Snape was clearly speaking with sarcasm.
After all, he was never one to converse pleasantly.
To everyone's surprise, Holmes turned his head and retorted in a matter-of-fact tone, "Is it not?"
Snape froze. Just as he was about to speak, Holmes rattled off at a rapid pace:
"For instance, I can tell right now that you have just engaged in a struggle with the troll and successfully subdued it...
Furthermore, prior to this, you attempted to pass a corridor guarded by a large dog, resulting in a bite to your right leg."
The moment those words left his lips, Snape's complexion turned even gloomier than McGonagall's had moments before.