Noir is an intelligent black cat with amber eyes who lives in a warm, watercolor-like world. His favorite spot is the top of an old bookshelf in his owner's study, which serves as his private 'castle.' One afternoon, Noir's owner discovers a mysterious golden bookmark—a magical item that causes the story within a book to slightly overflow into reality. When a sudden wind carries the bookmark out the window, Noir embarks on his first adventure outside the house. Following clues through the town,
Noir the Cat and the Vanished Bookmark - Episode 3: Nero
The Foggy City, late nineteenth-century London.
In the study of 221B Baker Street, where the light of gas lamps barely illuminated the alleyway, a peculiar "partner" tackled cases alongside Holmes.
His name was Nero.
A sleek black cat with velvet-smooth, short fur and a compact frame. But what was most distinctive were his amber eyes, gleaming with sharp intelligence even in the darkness.
If Holmes solved cases through human perspective and logic, Nero uncovered the truth through a cat's viewpoint and supersensory perception—this is the record of one such strange adventure between the two of them.
*"The Black Cat of Baker Street and the Vanished Blue Diamond"*
That night, a heavy atmosphere hung in the room at 221B.
The client was a renowned earl. He had been robbed of "Victoria's Tears," a beautiful blue diamond that was a family heirloom, by someone unknown.
Sitting on the carpet with his front paws neatly aligned, Nero listened intently to Holmes's sharp deductions.
"Watson, the culprit did not enter through the window. The room's door was locked from the inside, so the suspect must be among those who were in the mansion that night," Holmes said, his pipe smoke curling through the air.
Yet no matter how thoroughly the police searched the mansion, the diamond could not be found.
Holmes gazed into Nero's amber eyes and smiled confidently.
"Well then, Nero. It's time for us to venture into that world mere centimeters above the floor, where human eyes cannot reach."
The next day, Holmes, Watson, and Nero—hidden in the pocket of Holmes's coat—set off for the earl's mansion.
While Holmes interrogated the servants who were suspects, Nero slipped silently from the pocket and began crawling along the floor. The short-haired black cat blended perfectly into the gaps between furniture and shadows, unnoticed by anyone.
Nero could distinguish human "lies" through scent and sound.
The frightened maid: Her heartbeat was fast, but it was nervousness, not fear. Innocent.
The elderly butler: Composed and calm, but when Nero drew near, a faint scent of an unfamiliar oil emanated from his clothes—one not normally found in the mansion.
Nero brushed against the butler's feet, then flicked a single sharp claw against his trouser hem. And there—the tiniest particles of **plaster dust** fell to the ground.
Nero approached a large marble statue of a goddess in the corner of the room.
He stared intently at the back of the statue's base, his amber eyes flashing brilliantly as he let out a sharp cry: "Meow!"
Hearing that sound, Holmes immediately ceased his questioning and walked toward Nero.
"Excellent work, Nero. Your eyes truly cannot be deceived."
Holmes took out his magnifying glass and examined the back of the base. There were unnatural traces of recently applied plaster. When Holmes scraped away the plaster with his penknife, a dazzling blue brilliance emerged—"Victoria's Tears."
"Butler, after stealing the diamond, you sealed it to the back of this statue with plaster you had prepared beforehand to escape the police search. You intended to retrieve it once things had settled... but alas, it seems you could not fool my greatest detective—or rather, my detective cat's eyes."
The butler began to tremble violently and collapsed where he stood.
With the case solved, Holmes reclined on the chaise lounge before the fireplace back at 221B.
"The credit for this case belongs entirely to Nero, Watson. Had he not discovered that plaster dust, even I would not have seen through to the back of that statue."
As Watson chuckled in admiration, Nero leaped onto Holmes's lap and narrowed his amber eyes with pride.
When Holmes gently stroked his short, exquisite black fur, Nero's throat rumbled with a contented "purr."
On that foggy London night, the intelligent black cat and the genius detective waited quietly for the next case to arrive.
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