I am creating a esoteric religion in London

Chapter 5 Light and Shadow Between Lamps
"I didn't expect that secret room murders were already popular in the Victorian era."

Watson looked at the signature at the end of the letter.

Tobias Grace... He had heard of this name. He was also a detective, but unlike wild detectives like Sherlock Holmes, he was an official detective affiliated to Scotland Yard, and he was a public servant.

Among all the idiot detectives in London, he and Lestrade are the only outstanding figures. They can be called alert and capable, but they all have old-fashioned problems, and their thinking is too old-fashioned to accept the ideas of new science. As a method of solving crimes, he fell behind as a detective.

Moreover, these two people have always been at odds with each other, fighting openly and secretly. If the two of them are in charge of this case at the same time, then there will be a good show on the scene-the above are all from Charlotte's original words.

"Are you going?" Watson asked.

"I haven't decided whether to go or not. This Grayson always looks down on our female detectives on weekdays, so he only thinks of me when he encounters difficult cases that cannot be solved. I am thinking about whether to take advantage of it. When I'm here, give him a blow."

"Besides, even if the case is solved, this guy will definitely take the credit for himself."

Charlotte brushed her messy hair back behind her ears, and murmured: "However, it's rare that I can go to the scene of the murder to defeat his prestige... In the past, although Grace knew that I was better than him, he never Dare to admit this in front of other people, this time I just went to the scene to laugh at him in front of his subordinates."

"Then I'll inform Victor."

Victor is the coachman of the Sherlock Holmes family. Specifically, it should be Charlotte's exclusive coachman. The spacious four-wheeled carriage belongs to her alone.

Charlotte put on a sheepskin coat, and the excitement that she was eager to try had revealed her true inner thoughts.

She looked at Watson's right leg, "By the way, are your legs still sharp?"

Watson pretended to be relaxed and smiled, and danced his cane, "No problem, but I can't run. Besides, it's not my turn to track criminals."

They got into Victor's carriage and quickly rushed to the street where the crime was committed.

This place is a little far away from the bustling urban area. There are only four houses on the whole street, two of which are vacant and sparsely populated. At first glance, it looks like a treasured place for committing crimes.

As for No. 3 Garden Street, Lauriston, it is a typical haunted house just by looking at its appearance. The garden has been neglected for a long time and the grass is yellow and sparse, the moldy walls are covered with dense ivy, and the thick gray window panes are like white. The shadows, especially the small round windows in the attic, are the most eye-catching, like the single eye of the giant Polyphemus.

The withered old trees are distorted like people screaming in despair, combined with London's unique haze weather filter, it gives people a gloomy feeling at a glance.

At this moment, there is a circle of good people around the wooden fence and courtyard wall at the scene, there are more than a dozen people.Watson reckoned that the residents of the three nearby streets would all come here to join in the fun.

There was only one burly policeman blocking the entrance of the courtyard to maintain order and prevent idlers from intruding and disturbing the scene.

Watson got off the carriage behind the tall female detective. Charlotte did not go straight to the scene of the crime. Instead, she paced around the courtyard slowly, carefully observing the situation in the courtyard.

He set his sights on the onlookers.

According to the criminal psychology that has not yet sprouted in contemporary times, but has been gradually perfected in later generations, most criminals have the habit of returning to the crime scene, not only to avoid missing evidence, but also to constantly inquire about the progress of the investigation, and even psychopaths, Revisiting the scene is simply to see the old scene and reminisce about the thrill of killing at that time.

He walked among the crowd, always paying attention to the expressions of the people passing by, curiosity, fear, worry... Various faces passed through Watson's eyes.

Perhaps it was because he was not deep enough in micro-expression analysis and failed to find suspicious targets.

"Watson, let's go in."

Miss Charlotte had already glanced around and called her assistant. Judging by her expression, she didn't seem to find any useful clues.

The female detective showed Grayson's souvenir, and the police officer who guarded the gate let him go.

Watson slowly stepped onto the wet and muddy path in the garden, and his leather boots were immediately stained with mud.

He lowered his head and looked at the densely packed messy shoe prints in the courtyard.

Identifying traces is an indispensable and necessary skill on the battlefield.

Watson had only to glance around to know that about seven people had passed before them-provided no footprints were completely covered by those who came after them.

He even deduced the approximate height and build of the owner of the footprints based on the size and depth of the footprints.

In Watson's eyes, bright lights emerged from those messy footprints, and the lights condensed into blurred figures, all of which were models constructed based on inference results.

Watson silently kept these results in mind, and followed Holmes into the courtyard.

At the moment, there was a tall detective with light yellow hair and a pale complexion standing at the door of the house. He held a notebook under his ribs. After seeing Holmes, he showed an embarrassed expression and greeted Holmes with some reluctance.

"Miss Charlotte, you are finally here. I have specially maintained the scene of the crime for you, and no details have been touched."

"Oh yes, what about here?" Miss Charlotte pointed to the chaotic path in front of the door, which looked like a herd of African buffaloes were rushing through, and said slightly sarcastically: "Oh, I see, Grayson, you must think that this has nothing to do with the case Nothing to do, will allow the people under his hands to be so presumptuous."

Grace wiped the sweat from his brow, and explained vaguely: "I... I was busy inside, and my colleague, Mr. Lestrade, is responsible for all the outside affairs. "

"Hey! You guy, Grayson, don't blame me. You came to this scene first."

A skinny detective with handsome greasy hair came out in a hurry from behind the door, and he shouted at Grace angrily.

It seems that this is another outstanding London official detective - Lestrade.

"How dare you say that you are late?! You obviously live in the next block, so why did you come later than me? You are clearly handling the case passively! It seems that I have to report your work attitude to the superior!"

"Hi——" Lestrade let out an angry belch rich in single malt alcohol, "Don't talk nonsense, I... I worked overtime last night to handle the case, and I woke up late this morning. Do you think Everyone has nothing to do every day like you Grayson, is it time to get off work on time?!!!”

Seeing the two of them swearing like shrews, the female detective raised her sword-like eyebrows at Watson with a look of 'Look, let me just say it'.

Seeing that the two elite detectives were getting more and more violent, and seemed to be about to fight, Charlotte hurriedly stepped forward to pull the two of them away, and scolded: "It seems that you two great detectives are enough here, and there is no need for them anymore." I’m such a wild little detective, so shall I go?”

Lestrade loosened Grayson's collar, rubbed his hands and flattered: "Don't, Miss Holmes! We have tried our best, but we still have nothing. This is a typical strange case, doesn't it just meet your preference for weird and weird Appetite for things."

Charlotte chuckled, and pushed away the two people blocking the door, "Let's go into the room and have a look."

The door panels and wooden bolts of this room have been roughly removed and thrown aside. The room looks like it has not been lived in for a long time, lacking the vitality of the world, and exuding a decaying musty smell everywhere.

But the floor was cleaned very clean, it could be described as spotless. It seems that the deceased who sneaked into the empty house was still a clean person, but it was a pity that it was covered with muddy footprints.

Watson and Holmes followed the two police detectives into the front hall, and saw that the large square room was filled with a hill of books, all of which were old books, and the leather watches were engraved with traces of time. After a quick glance, they are all strange and extensive documents, such as: books of a secret association with roses and crosses printed on the cover, propaganda pamphlets of a temperance campaigner, fragile-looking manuscripts, contents An unsightly picture book...

Watson looks away from the lustful carnal portraits painted in psychedelic colors to observe the scene.

The once brightly colored wallpaper on the wall of the front hall has been covered with mildew and has fallen off in large areas. Faint light penetrates through the gaps in the windows nailed with wooden boards, but is blocked by rising dust, making the indoor environment extraordinarily hazy and gloomy.

On the swollen floor lay the victim of the case, a stiff, sprawled corpse in the middle of a pile of scattered books, in front of a beautiful kerosene lamp that had been extinguished.

This kerosene lamp seems to be made of a flawless crystal sculpture, the whole body is crystal clear, and it seems to be shining brightly in the dark room, it is too beautiful.

Watson cast his eyes on the wall of the lamp, and he seemed to see a stern brilliance flashing by in a trance. In the light and shadow, there was a pale face with no emotion like a machine, which was watching silently. The busy people in the house seem to be observing and recording, just like ghosts imprisoned in it.

Those blazing white eyes looked at Watson suddenly, and he happened to meet his eyes.

The moment their eyes met, a strong light burst out from the lamp!
This intense light that can pierce glass and skin pierces Watson's eyeballs like a sharp sword!
Light leaked in through cracks in the skull, dripping like viscous fluid on the folds of the brain.

Some kind of bone-chilling cold froze his consciousness, but his thinking was unprecedentedly clear.

Watson seems to be rising, the lofty soul is separated from the weak body, and the light and color of the world become brighter, brighter, and more colorful...

"Hey buddy, step aside."

The police officers who came in and out awakened Watson who was absent-minded. He looked at the ordinary and slightly exquisite kerosene lamp blankly, feeling as if he had forgotten something.

　He's from Glow, and we can't help but watch it.

　　
　
(End of this chapter)