The Oil Painting's Location

Holmes returned at dusk, storming into the room without saying a word. Completely disregarding the audience's well-being outside, the shrill rubbing of bow and string started blaring out his bedroom. After torturing them with erratic howls, screeches, and wails for a good 15 minutes, he finally put down the instrument in contentment.

He then said to Zhang Heng, who was at his side, "The meeting with Villard has been canceled tonight. I told him that we couldn't acquire much useful information in the afternoon. Hence, the meeting would be pointless."

"Sounds good to me. I actually wanted to tell you that I might not be able to make it tonight."

Zhang Heng then took out the two opera tickets.

"A friend gave me these and invited me to her performance."

"Huh? A new opera in the Queen's Theatre?" Holmes' intuition was as sharp as ever.

"Any companions that might be tagging along with you?"