Pastor's Tantra

Tuesday morning.

Sherlock, who had just woken up, was curled up in his rocking chair that was used as a bed, covered with a woolen coat and slowly eating the sandwich that Edward had brought.

Sherlock has some hypoglycemia. If he doesn't eat something or drink some sugar or honey water immediately after waking up, his brain won't be able to start working.

This may be a natural problem, or it may be that he simply doesn't like eating.

If Edward hadn't brought him breakfast, I'm afraid he would have just drank some honey water to deal with it today.

"You'll get stomach trouble sooner or later, Hermes."

Edward sat on the chair next to Sherlock's desk and spoke in a deep voice.

He was holding the same sandwich in his hand. Soft white bread stuffed with beef, onions, cheese, lettuce and plenty of cheese sauce.

It was a portable breakfast that Edward had ordered the cook at home to prepare in advance last night.

Because he knew that Sherlock would definitely skip breakfast if he could.

Although eating sandwiches for breakfast seemed a bit shabby for the Moriarty family. But if the food was more sumptuous and complicated, Sherlock would probably not want to eat it.

Sherlock squinted his eyes and said lazily: "I usually try to stay hungry. This way my brain can work more actively."

"Are you doing penance?"

"Penancement? No, no, no..."

Sherlock chuckled and raised his head with interest: "Why do you think I'm like a monk, torturing myself for wisdom?"

"Isn't it?" Edward asked.

"Of course not," Sherlock replied, "If you care too much about something, you will easily fall into forms and precepts. In that case, you will lose your original intention of seeking wisdom.

"I admit that good things are good. If good things and bad things are placed in front of me, and I have the opportunity to choose, I will naturally try to choose the good ones.

"But is it so bad that it is unacceptable? Not necessarily. As long as it can meet my needs, then I can actually choose any one - in other words, I don't have to choose the better one."

Sherlock said, throwing the last bite of the beef sandwich into his mouth.

While chewing, he said vaguely: "Honey water and sandwiches can also wake up my brain. So of course I will eat whichever one is given to me. You can't let me use that groggy posture. , go downstairs to buy a sandwich? You don’t know how it feels when your brain is like a dry machine, that’s too bad.”

"Then you might as well hire a maid to take care of you."

"No, no, no, forget it. My dear friend."

Sherlock shook his head vigorously and expressed his strong rejection: "You know, every document and file in my room has its own place. All my bottles and jars also have their own, some Mysterious arrangement. No one but me can put them in such a satisfactory and just place."

"You are quite similar to Aiwass in this aspect," Edward commented as he looked at the narrow and messy dark room filled with various books and files, "Seriously, you need someone to take care of your life. People who live in daily life. Otherwise, you should go home and live. At least your cook at home can cook you three meals a day."

"Oh, forget it."

Sherlock sneered, leaning back and the rocking chair swaying slightly: "If I go back, the old man will start planning my blind date and marriage again...

"A person's brain will become sluggish after overeating, and numb after drinking. If you fall in love with another person, or are obsessed with fame, or are eager for money and wealth, your brain will also become unclear.

"You know it too, Edward. The path of wisdom is the path of selfishness. Truth is destined to be found only alone. Marriage is too much trouble for me."

"When you said this, I thought you had gone a long way on the path of wisdom."

Edward's calm expression did not change: "Isn't the farthest path you have taken the path of authority? Besides, you are already twenty-six years old and it's time to get married. It's normal for Sir Arthur to be anxious about your affairs."

"...That's only temporary. Soon, my path of wisdom will surpass me."

Sherlock dealt with it vaguely, and then counterattacked without hesitation: "And what about yourself? Aren't you already thirty-five years old and not married yet?"

Edward just shook his head slightly without any fluctuation in his voice: "I am called a widower.

"I got married in my early twenties, but my wife died unexpectedly later."

"...I've never heard you mention this."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows, and his amber pupils opened slightly with interest.

But he didn't ask here.

Inspector Edward’s once-deceased wife—big things that happened to such a big shot can be easily found out. Not mentioning it at this moment is out of respect for Edward, and also because of confidence in his own investigative ability.

Edward didn't take the initiative to explain. He just walked over and handed over this morning's "Glass Steps Newspaper."

Sherlock, who was lying on the rocking chair, stood up, took the newspaper, and lay down again.

He was lying on the rocking chair and rocking, his head moving bit by bit. It looked like he was feeling sleepy after eating enough. It took me a long time to read the first edition alone.

Edward, who was standing nearby, waited for a long time and finally couldn't help but ask: "Did you see it? Aiwass is in the newspaper again, and it's still the front page headline."

"I found out yesterday."

Sherlock said lazily: "As soon as I entered the club, I guessed that His Highness as soon as I saw it. Speaking of which, when we were in school, did we also have the 'Crystal Dancing Slippers' badge?"

"Only you have it. I've never been interested in music."

Edward replied casually.

He was eating a sandwich and waited for Sherlock to finish reading the newspaper before asking, "What do you think?"

"Not a good thing. But not a bad thing either."

Sherlock threw the "Glass Steps Newspaper" aside casually: "Secretary Raff was assassinated in public, and the impact was extremely bad. But this was just a deliberately tense atmosphere.

"What's really important is that this happened next to Her Royal Highness. And Director Gordon failed to arrest the professional killer in the end."

"Although based on our investigation of the scene yesterday, Commissioner Gordon's actions can be said to be completely correct. But many times, it doesn't matter what you actually did... What matters is what you made people believe you did.

"In any case, Gordon let go of a very dangerous assassin. It's already the end of November, and the Chinese New Year will be here in more than a month. If the matter is not resolved properly, public opinion will be in trouble. A man who was let go A high-level transcendent who can run away and kill people is basically pointing his finger at the Supervisory Bureau and scolding the Supervisory Bureau for failing to do things well. By then, not only Gordon, but the entire Supervisory Bureau may be under pressure - your Supervisory Office should want to compress it The scope of authority of the Supervision Bureau has been in place for a long time, right?”

"The fact is that he is not doing his job well. But dealing with Director Gordon at this time will only make people realize that the problem is out of control, become more panicked, and make the situation more out of control."

Edward whispered: "Therefore, the Supervisory Bureau plans to hold a large-scale commendation meeting for Aiwass this week to shape his achievements and distract the public's attention."

"Didn't there be a commendation for what happened at the Pelican Bar last time?" Sherlock asked doubtfully.

"Two commendations combined into one. It's still Thursday afternoon. This time the plan is not to award the Crystal Cross, but to award the Order of the Holy Sword directly."

Edward said solemnly.

"Ouch."

Sherlock raised his eyebrows: "In what name? The Medal of the Holy Sword is generally awarded to warriors who have made meritorious service in protecting the country or have made meritorious deeds on the battlefield."

"'Single-handedly discovered and prevented the assassination of Princess Isabel by the extraordinary assassin'."

"Huh? This becomes an assassination attempt? Secretary Rafe becomes an innocent person affected?"

The black-haired young man with messy curly hair fell lazily on the rocking chair and sneered: "It's not impossible. Then let them repay it like this first."

"……First?"

Edward caught Sherlock's words: "What did you find out?"

"It's not investigation, it's reasoning. This is really an interesting case, dear friend. I thought about it all night yesterday and didn't go to bed until three or four in the middle of the night."

Sherlock said, taking out his little notebook: "Let's put things in order first, starting from the most critical point.

"I have decoded those documents, and there are a large number of addresses and names written on them in a cipher text.

"You probably don't care about the reasoning process in between. I'll just tell you the conclusion - this document found at the scene is related to the smuggling case at the port."

"...You mean the 'Sweater Brotherhood' line?"

"Yes. In other words, Trade Minister Drost may be related to the smuggling case.

"And I have also found out the identity of the assassin. It is an assassin association from Iris, called "Eagle Eyes". Only they can use this special weapon. They are the remnants of the Black Eagle Principality after its demise... They are considered mercenaries. They may accept commissions from anyone, including attacking nobles and even royal families of various countries.”

Having said this, Sherlock closed the small notebook.

He looked at Edward meaningfully: "Under what circumstances do you think the assassin who came all the way from Iris would kill the private secretary of the minister who was directly related to the Star Antimony Kingdom smuggling case in an open and aboveboard place?"

"I think it's to frame someone up."

Edward answered without hesitation: "That's why the deceased fell from the second floor to the ground with his back to the murderer holding the document. This shows that he most likely did not go to get the document, but to deliver it. "

"Oh, the speculation you mentioned makes some sense."

When Sherlock heard this, the corner of his mouth raised slightly: "But unfortunately, this possibility does not exist. Because I confirmed the notes on this document yesterday, and it is obviously the same as the code words on the freight bill we seized at the Sweater Brotherhood. It came from the same person. After cracking the password rules, I successfully decoded the file and found that it contained one warehouse after another and a certain administrator of the corresponding warehouse.

"Thank God, the files I have here contain documents signed by Secretary Raff in the past. Although he deliberately controlled the writing, he is sure that it was written by the same person.

"So I thought of a possibility. Someone has information on Minister Drost and wants to expose him."

"There is such a thing..."

Edward murmured in a low voice, looking at Sherlock's smooth and clear mouth and asked: "Then who do you think it could be?"

"From the perspective of interpersonal relationships, motives, abilities, alibi, etc.," Sherlock paused, "I think it may be your father, Professor Moriarty."