big devil holmes

Chapter 70 Intimate
Half an hour later, Sherlock returned to his apartment on Baker Street.

He didn't waste time to stuff the young man named Andrew into his suitcase, because he didn't bring his suitcase today.

Nor did he tie it up and drag it to Scotland Yard, it was too far away.

He just told the other party that when it was time to go to work tomorrow morning, he would pick the nearest police station, and then find a policeman who looked smarter, and explain to him all the crimes during this period of time.

Then just put on the attitude of 'I want to be killed or cut, you are welcome', and wait for a group of people to press you to the ground, that's it!

Oh, you'd better behave yourself during this period, and don't make any fools.

Otherwise, he's going to talk to you in person
It has to be said that Sherlock is quite easy to talk to under certain circumstances, and after not finishing this, he separated from Andrew. He believed that Andrew was a good boy and would definitely not cause trouble for himself.

And Andrew really won't cause any trouble. As he said before, he would rather face decades of imprisonment, or even the death penalty, than face his own contract demon, let alone face that A guy who calls himself a detective.

Oh, by the way, that guy also said a very strange thing before;
Why did the demon escape back to hell. Would it be better?

Opening the door of the apartment, Sherlock took off his coat, and then lay down comfortably on the sofa.

Some tentacles slowly emerged from the shadows of the room, like twisted poisonous snakes, clung to Sherlock's shoulder along the armrest of the sofa, and licked the back of his ear lightly.

He closed his eyes, stroked them with a slight smile, feeling the weird intimacy.
After the little tentacles melted into his body in the dream last time, he discovered that those tentacles in the dream began to appear in the real world.

However, it is not summoned through the cracks in the void, but in an inexplicable state.

They will crawl out slowly from certain shadows, or faintly appear in a corner, maybe a beam of light flashes by, and they glance at the edge of the line of sight in horror, but if they turn their heads to look for them, they will find nothing. I can't find it.

In short, these little guys are like their own domain, starting to overlap with the real world, but they are very arrogant and maintain a weird sense of mystery, like to curl up out of sight, or wander in the shadows, entrenched, squirm, wait
Sherlock raised his head slowly, a tentacle had already rolled up a pillow, stuffed it into the gap between his neck and the sofa, and the position was just right.

He twisted his body again, found the most comfortable position, and was entangled in the tentacles, with a faint smile on his mouth, and fell into a dream.

The wind and sand and scorching heat were the same as before, but probably because of being in the field, Sherlock didn't feel too uncomfortable.

He got up, stepped into the wind, and looked up into the distance in the almost boiling scene around him.

That's where the steam train traveled in the real world just now.

Some tentacles crawled around him, and five rotting corpse dogs stood with their heads held high not far away, waiting to receive orders, as if they were on guard.

Obviously, during the time he was away, these little tentacles parasitized a few more demons for himself.

In the past, they should only be able to carry the upper limit of two, so in the process of continuous incubation and division, these little guys are also growing slowly, but they seem to have a kind of cuteness for carrion dogs. I don't know when I get tired of it, so I will try to parasitize other kinds of demons.

The demon corpses on the ground have been completely swallowed by the tentacles at this time, making the whole street less chaotic, but there are still quite a few tentacles crawling continuously, like steam pipes that have come alive.

Sherlock lazily stretched his muscles and bones, and then prepared to leave and walk towards the train.

But he just took a few steps.
"Ok?"

He froze for a moment, because in his thoughts, he still seemed to be able to feel something extra.

Following this feeling, he turned his head slowly, looked towards the corner of a collapsed building, and was a little surprised. He saw a horse!

A black horse.

This kind of pitch black does not describe the color of the hair, but it is a bit like it has been roasted in the fire for several years, it has been completely carbonized, but it still maintains its supposed shape strangely.

The eyes and four hooves are always glowing with the faint sparks of the wood being ignited. From time to time, some cracks can be seen on the body, and a trace of flame light emerges inside. The tail is like a thread of ashes gathered up and down. It swayed gently, scattering fine dust, and then being swept away by the wind.

At this time, the horse stood alone, pawing the ground with its front legs, snorting occasionally, and emitting a burst of smoke.

What surprised Sherlock even more was that there was a carriage behind the horse.

Er, this turned out to be a carriage, the kind that can be seen everywhere in the streets and alleys of London, but the carriage has been infected by the blood of hell, and the whole presents a feeling of corruption and rust.

Sherlock is very pleased.

After the tentacles fused with myself last time, all the tentacles in the entire field established some kind of weird connection with themselves. At least they are no longer just crawling around instinctively, but can perceive their own thoughts and demand.

Whether it's lighting himself a cigarette or getting this carriage, it can reflect this.

After all, after the land is big, you can't still use your legs to walk every day, right?

What a bunch of caring little guys.

So Sherlock walked to the carriage and sat on it. Although most of the decorations in the carriage have been weathered, they are very tough and show extremely strong attributes. Like a ghost carriage, it began to run forward.

In the process of running, the tentacles on both sides of the road began to drill out from the gaps or shadows of the buildings, and they clustered together, more and more dense, like black with some devouring properties. The tide, accompanied by the vehicle, rushed towards the direction Sherlock had just looked at.

And at this moment, in a dilapidated long street in hell, the gouging-eyed demon finally climbed down from the weathered train viaduct.

Its strength is not great. In the real world, Sherlock stepped on several limbs and broke its speed. After losing the support of fear, it looks even more pitiful. It has almost exhausted itself after climbing this section of the road just now. All the strength.

So, it found a relatively safe small pile of rubble, and prepared to hide in it and rest for a while.

but just about to drill in
"Boom-boom-boom-"

In the distance, there was a dense roar!

(End of this chapter)