big devil holmes

Chapter 10 Baker Street

Passage between Upper Town and Lower Town requires a bridge across the Thames, with heavy gear gates on both sides of the bridge, which are rarely opened at night after curfew.

Of course, the rules written in the London Public Security Law will never be bound by the Holy See.

Listening to the sound of mechanical gears turning outside the car window, Sherlock slowly cast his sights into the night. A huge portrait of Nightingale was hung on the steel cable beside the bridge. According to legend, this angelic girl who traveled the empire will be here I came to London a month later, and I don’t know how many people will be healed and blessed this time.

Looking at the stunning beauty presented on the canvas, Sherlock did not show human obsession and yearning for beauty like all the citizens of the empire, but just sat silently. A few stars appeared in the sky of London, which represented the distant In the deep space, several huge stars are being born or destroyed.

But he knew very well that if there were still some people worthy of admiration in this crappy world, then this girl must be one of them.

Half an hour later, after crossing several small roads shrouded in steam from the manhole cover, the carriage finally arrived at Baker Street.

This is a very inconspicuous street. Compared to the main roads in the urban area, it is really clean, at least except for the garbage bins that have never been cleared, the gas street lamps that have never been repaired, and things that are stolen everywhere. Outside of homeless orphans, there is almost no congestion and no whine of leaky pipes.

Even those murderers who don't throw their bodies here may feel that they are undervalued.

Of course, from time to time there will still be some battered corpses bitten by demons appearing on the side of the street. Take a bite or two, and then try to swallow it.

Anyway, for Sherlock, this is a rare and quiet place to live.

Walking into Building A of No. 314, a musty smell hits the face.

This building is obviously very old. Walking up the steps, the wooden boards under your feet groaned unbearably.The second floor is his home.

Going up and pushing open the door, Sherlock stretched out his hand and twisted a knob on the wall. The gas floated from the pipe inside the wall into a glass cover, and the light slowly lit up. The dim yellow light penetrated the faded carvings on the lamp cover. It didn't bring much warmth to this small room, but reflected a trace of mess and loneliness.

What catches the eye is a living room, which is not big and can be seen without looking sideways. The sofa is randomly placed, the carpet of the original color cannot be seen, the wooden cabinet has not been polished, the windows are small, and it directly faces the bare red brick wall of the building. .

A standard cheap apartment.

And other than that, it's a room full of books.
"Memoirs of a Contractor's Servant", "The Encyclopedia of Abyss Creatures", "Conjectures about the Abilities of High-level Contractors", and many newspaper clippings about civilians working together to repel or even kill demons.

These books were piled up in various corners of the room, almost every one of them was tattered, obviously they had been read countless times.

As I said before, Sherlock is an ordinary person, he is not a pious believer, and naturally he has not participated in the canonization ceremony of the contractor of the Holy See; The briefing about the abyssal demon just happened to entertain my idle head.

"Whoo~~~~~~"

Hanging up his coat and hat, he walked to a sofa and sat down, he let out a comfortable groan.

The sofa is also very old, the red patent leather is full of cracks, and a part of the partition in the middle has collapsed, just enough to allow the person on it to lie halfway in it. Sherlock likes this posture very much.

today he is exhausted
First, he went to catch a murderer, then got in touch with the clergy of the Holy See, went to the upper city, and offended a nun by the way.

Oh, when it comes to the trial nun named Catherine, Sherlock's evaluation of her is quite interesting.

Because after some careful observation, I can know that she is a sweet tooth, loves to be lazy, and doesn't like to make quilts!Living alone, drinking heavily, sleeping at night with a big pillow, probably a big plush rabbit with long ears or something.

Tsk tsk, it's a bit different from the usual high-cold image in front of people.

But it doesn't matter, these days, who doesn't have a bit of a contrast? Even old-fashioned policemen like Lestrade secretly like to wear T-shaped underwear that can be squeezed into the buttocks. Sherlock never thinks there is anything wrong with it Not right, so never poked through.

Let’s go back to the deacon Baldur whose wife died.
For him, Sherlock still cares more; after all, he is a person who has a close relationship with the deceased, and also belongs to the violent institution that the Holy See controls the empire, so he deserves more attention.

However, what surprised Sherlock was that he couldn't get any information about this person at all. Whether it was personality, work and rest, eating habits, physical condition, and habits, it was all a blank slate.

If it wasn't for this man's slight reaction to his wife's death, Sherlock even suspected that he was really an emotionless machine as rumored.

After thinking about it casually for a while, he turned his attention to the clock on the wall again.
It was already two o'clock in the morning, and Sherlock needed to rest.

At this time, there was no light outside the window, and the night enveloped the entire apartment, and there were no hawkers or traffic, only the distant bells echoed as usual; he closed his eyes and was about to fall asleep on the sofa.

And after falling into a deep sleep, by the way, you can also think about the few puzzles about the murder.

Um. That's right, reasoning. After falling asleep.

So, he relaxed his body and poured all his exhaustion into the old sofa under him.

Less than 10 minutes.

A light snore sounded.

The rhythm is slow and long, like the bells and prayers in those churches
And at the same time.

In a white world, Sherlock slowly opened his eyes.

He twisted his neck, then stood up and was not surprised by the strange environment around him, but just yawned as usual.

(End of this chapter)