The ability to see the essence through phenomena and to discover truth from subtle details is certainly a talent.
But it also needs to be forged through continuous practice.
Initially, Sherlock started with relatively simple problems.
For example, when encountering a stranger, he would observe and identify the person's history and occupation.
This kind of training might seem childish and boring, but it can sharpen one's observational skills.
As time went on and with continuous practice, Sherlock's abilities in this area became more proficient.
He already knows where to observe and what to observe.
He has summarized his own method of deduction.
Although still not perfect, observation and analysis have already become second nature to him.
If he were in a train carriage, he could even identify the occupations of his fellow passengers one by one just by observing them.
—It’s a pity no one ever bet him, otherwise he would have made a fortune.
While Sherlock questioned Tom, the bartender, Tom led Sherlock and his parents through the bar to a small courtyard surrounded by walls.
Sherlock's gaze quickly swept around, finding nothing but a trash can and some weeds.
So… the problem is with the trash can?
Sherlock took two steps forward, approaching it.
At the same time, Tom also made a move.
He slowly drew his wand, just about to do something, when he suddenly turned back, smiled at Sherlock, and reminded him:
“Once you have a wand, you’ll need to come in yourselves—remember the location of this brick, it’s above the trash can…”
“The third brick up, and the second brick across.”
Sherlock said calmly.
Tom turned back to look at Sherlock, asking in surprise, “How, how did you know?”
Because it's the only one different from the other bricks on the wall, whether in color or the degree of wear around it.
For someone skilled in observation, finding this is not very difficult.
“What astonishing observational ability!”
Hearing Sherlock's explanation, Tom couldn't help but express his genuine admiration, then gently tapped that brick three times with his wand.
Sherlock’s family stared intently at the wall brick.
Next, something astonishing happened.
The tapped brick began to tremble.
First, a small hole appeared in the middle.
Then, the wall bricks on both sides moved rapidly, and the opening grew larger.
Finally, a wide archway appeared before them.
The archway led to a winding, seemingly endless cobblestone street.
Compared to the previously dim and narrow Leaky Cauldron, this grand avenue now appeared exceptionally bright.
It was as if the scene before them suddenly opened up.
“Welcome to Diagon Alley.”
At this moment, Tom’s voice also rang out at just the right time.
This was their destination, Diagon Alley, also known as Diagon Alley.
Sherlock turned around and saw the archway narrowing, the wall returning to its original appearance, and Tom waving goodbye to them.
“That short man… he has no money on him, he should be preparing to run away now.”
Sherlock thought for a moment and decided to offer a reminder.
Hearing his words, Tom’s expression immediately changed, as if he remembered something, and he rushed back without even having time to say thank you.
Then, from inside the bar, faint sounds of “Stop,” “You stop right there,” “Catch him,” and similar shouts could be heard.
Sherlock shrugged, withdrew his gaze, and walked onto the street with his parents.
Diagon Alley presented a stark contrast to the Leaky Cauldron.
Bright, wide streets, bustling, crowded shops, and a throng of people.
Even the well-traveled Mr. Holmes couldn't help but say, “It’s hard to imagine that London has a place like this.”
Mrs. Holmes nodded, agreeing with her husband's view.
Sherlock, meanwhile, was lost in thought.
Ever since confirming that magic was not fake news, the Magical World’s allure had grown stronger for him.
Now it seems that the existence of the Leaky Cauldron and Diagon Alley is somewhat similar to the mirror world and inner world in science fiction.
However, the Magical World should not exist separately from the mundane world; surely, even if the city government doesn't know, the Prime Minister and the royal family must be aware.
The existence of such a place would certainly mean a lot less tax revenue for the city government.
Sherlock thought to himself.
As McGonagall reminded them, the three first headed to Gringotts Wizarding Bank on the north side of Diagon Alley.
They needed to exchange some magic currency.
Yes, though somewhat unexpectedly, the Magical World really does have its own currency system.
Gold coins are Galleons, seventeen sickles make one Galleon, and twenty-nine Knuts make one sickle.
This exchange rate inevitably made Sherlock somewhat disdain the Wizards’ mathematical abilities.
Even if it can't be decimalized, at least the exchange rates between the three currencies should remain consistent, right?
Although Britain used to have an old system where 1 pound equaled 20 shillings, and one shilling equaled 12 pence, since the currency reform abolished shillings in 1971, it has now become 1 pound to 100 new pence.
The mundane world is constantly progressing, so why can't the Magical World keep up?
Regret aside, the money still needed to be exchanged.
Compared to the other buildings in Diagon Alley, Gringotts Wizarding Bank was quite distinctive.
Its towering, snow-white building made it stand out among the surrounding low-rise structures, and its bronze doors gleamed in the sunlight.
However, what attracted people the most was a fellow standing at the entrance, dressed in a scarlet uniform with gold trim.
Short in stature, with long arms and legs, a dark face, and a long, pointed beard—that was…
“Goblin.”
Seeing this, Sherlock’s eyes lit up—another creature from legend.
“Are you here to exchange money? Don’t wander off, follow me.”
Perhaps sensing the Holmes couple’s non-Wizard status, the Goblin immediately guessed the trio’s intention, bowed to them, and then spoke.
Sherlock noticed the other party's aloof attitude and rather cold tone.
Tsk, such an attitude in the service industry, the Magical World really should train them properly.
Sherlock’s parents, however, had no mind to consider this; Mrs. Holmes even seemed a bit worried:
“Tanan, I wonder if we brought enough money? Sherlock seems to need to buy a lot of things, and I don’t want him to suffer so far away…”
“My dear Valita, don’t worry, trust me, it’s fine.”
Mr. Holmes whispered reassuringly.
The Holmes family had a solid financial foundation.
Sherlock’s grandfather was a squire for generations; in the Victorian era, that meant he was a proper nobleman.
Even in present-day London, they belonged to the top tier of the middle class.
So, as long as the Magical World's currency value wasn't too outrageous, Mr. Holmes was confident in his family's purchasing power.
As they followed the Goblin into the second silver door, the inscriptions on the two doors caught Sherlock's attention.
