Sherlock Holmes

Time will dilute everything, this sentence is applicable at any time.

But the essence is: people always have to put life first.

Before you want to consider other things, you must first take care of your own one-third of an acre of land. Therefore, in the face of heavy work, family income, less and less wages, and the increasingly demanding requirements of the company and Faced with the messy taxes, people rarely have the energy to think about current affairs.

As for those nobles who were born with silver spoons in their mouths, most of them are addicted to the illusory and beautiful world and have no idea in which direction the world will develop. Some of them are smarter and will definitely not do anything. Moth, they only want to make their aristocratic status more stable. After all, the beneficiaries cannot clamor for fairness every day.

Only those idiots who enjoy the welfare of the aristocracy, but also think they are noble and care about the country and the people, will stay in their huts, pondering the distribution of society, looking forward to the fairness that will never be realized, and not going to work every day. The noble lady was dancing and thinking about strange things.

Very good, such people will be swallowed up by their class sooner or later. Those who are persistent will only make some splashes, but who cares? In short, this world will always be controlled by those who already control the world. in human hands.

No one has forgotten the disaster that fell from the sky more than half a month ago, but no one is angry about it anymore. All the families of the victims have received due compensation, and gradually there is no more trouble. In fact, at that time After people have adapted to being squeezed, as long as they are no longer squeezed, they will feel very happy. There is no need for any substantial compensation. Even if some people still feel that something is wrong and want to ask for an explanation, the people around them will They will persuade them spontaneously. After all, the term "law-abiding citizen" has always been a compliment in their eyes.

As I said at the beginning, time will always dilute everything.

Early that morning, Sherlock returned to his small room on Baker Street. He had not been back since the plane crash. Now that he was lying on the familiar sofa again, he finally let out a comfortable sigh.

As for Watson, he didn't come with him. Of course, he couldn't go back to his high-rent apartment.

A few days ago, he and Sherlock invited the Pope to an abandoned factory in the suburbs of London. After that, Watson had a long talk with him that lasted for more than an hour.

It really was a long conversation, because when Sherlock was smoking outside the factory, two dug-out kneecaps were thrown directly out of the second-floor window, and they happened to be locked together when they landed.

After that, Watson knew that the order to kill him was originally issued by Pope Theodore himself.

Moreover, the cleaning order of the White Thorn Security Company also came from this obese His Excellency the Pope.

Watson was very pleased, because a person with a lot of fat would definitely survive longer than a thin person, so he decided to have a friendly, cordial, several-day, heart-to-heart talk with the Pope. Lung communication.

During this period of time, Sherlock must have been too lazy to stay with him, so he left the Pope with Watson and returned to Baker Street. He believed that after such a long time together, the Pope and Watson They will definitely get along very harmoniously. Whether they want to tell you or not, they will tell you everything.

All he had to do was wait for Watson to come back and then just listen to the ready-made material.

In the next few days, Sherlock focused on 'adapting to the extra ability in his brain', but after adapting to this ability, he could not adapt to the somewhat lonely atmosphere.

Usually, there is Mrs. Hudson by his side. Although she only lives downstairs and doesn't have much interaction with him, she is always there. But now, the room downstairs is empty.

Sherlock, who had always been used to being alone, felt a sense of loneliness inexplicably, and then suddenly realized that at some point, there seemed to be a lot more people around him.

He wanted to call Mrs. Hudson, but he didn't know where to call. Moreover, the landlady should be on the steam train heading to the Holy City now. She would probably contact him again after arriving in Jerusalem.

So he wanted to call Moriarty again, but Moriarty no longer lived in the small villa behind the church. He had been saying that he was busy before the plane crash, but he didn't know what he was busy with. , and how is Moran doing now?

Finally, he finally thought that he still had Miss Nightingale to contact, but when he picked up the phone, he suddenly felt ridiculous. Did he want to contact Miss Nightingale?

The most beautiful woman in the entire empire, the girl who cures diseases all over the world?

Thinking of his previous encounters and interactions with her, as well as the figure by the window that he didn't care much about but could never forget, he seemed to feel that there were some unusual changes in his life. Don't know if this change is good or bad.

So, he picked up the newspaper he had just brought in at the door.

He hadn't been home for a long time, and there were a lot of newspapers piled up at the door. He opened one at random and started reading. Then he discovered that in the most conspicuous place on the cover, there was a man he had never seen printed on it.

The man looked to be in his late fifties, with a high hairline, perhaps due to long-term fatigue, but he was extremely stubborn and kept the hair on the back of his head very long.

Next to the avatar, his name is marked: Dr. Franklin.

And the front page headline above this photo reads

"Electric Energy—and the Man Who Will Change the World"

Sherlock felt a little strange, because what he was holding was the Holy Journal, and newspapers like this, which have a circulation all over the country and have a strong connection with the Holy See, would not usually put someone's photo on the front page so suddenly and in such a high-profile way. .

Lord Dante had this kind of treatment, Miss Nightingale had it, and General Patton who was guarding the Gate of Hell on the front line also had it. Other than that, no one seemed to have enjoyed such treatment.

Moreover, this Dr. Franklin seems to be a figure who rarely appears in the public eye, so why did he suddenly receive such an honor?

Sherlock read along the front page with curiosity. This report also introduced Dr. Franklin's life experience, family situation, and persistence in electricity research. Not long ago, his experiment suddenly received a terrifying amount of money. Sponsored funds, this money will allow his experimental results to usher in a huge leap forward. If it succeeds, maybe electricity can really come back from the ashes and become a widely popular energy source that can once again be on par with steam, or even surpass steam power!

After a brief period of speculation in the early stage, it seems that if that time really comes, productivity will develop by leaps and bounds, and then people's lives, taxes, and the income of many workers will all usher in better changes.

Of course, ordinary people don't understand what electricity is, let alone how it works, but they know the word "money", so this report almost instantly became the most popular article in the Holy Journal in recent years. In a good issue, the name Franklin suddenly became a topic of conversation among the poor class after dinner.

Not many people even noticed that in a less conspicuous line of the report, there was this sentence:

[Dr. Franklin has the bloodline of a distant relative of Felty, and has decided to participate in the transfer of the imperial throne next year. 】

At this moment, ring~ring~ring~

A series of bells rang.

Sherlock answered the phone, and then on the other end of the phone, a familiar voice, but one he hadn't heard for a long time:

"I just wanted to try to contact you, but I didn't expect you to be at home."

Moriarty's voice sounded even more tired than when they last called.

Sherlock smiled: "Didn't you say that you have been busy?"

"Yes, I have just finished my busy work. I have to take some time to rest. Good health is also very important."

Sherlock was slightly startled. He didn't expect that Moriarty, who usually couldn't bear to sleep, could say something like this: "Haha, it seems that being hit on the head by an airship is not all bad. By the way, Where is Moran? How is his injury?"

"Miss Nightingale came here once the day before yesterday, so... it's not bad." The voice on the phone had a satisfied smile, but it was very weak, like trying hard to taste the sweetness among the bitterness: "I'll wait for a while. I came to see you, I have something to ask of you."

"Okay, I'll wait for you at home."

Sherlock said and hung up the phone.

Three hours later, the dusk light gradually filled the streets, and then there was a knock on the door.

After Sherlock opened the door, he found that the person at the door was not Moriarty, but Watson.

We haven't seen him for two days. He is still wearing the same clothes. His golden hair is slightly messy and he looks dusty.

But there was a bright smile on his face.

"Well, I can see that you had a good chat with the Pope."

"Of course." Watson squinted his eyes and said with a smile on his face: "The fat gave him tenacious vitality, and the arrogance of being the pope also gave him some cute little stubbornness. We talked for two whole days, and we kept talking to each other. Not even a second of rest.”

Sherlock didn't want to hear Watson describe how many little games he and the Pope had played. He just wanted to hear what clues the other party had about the plane crash.

And just when he was about to ask.

On the street, a carriage seemed to be slow, but it came quickly and steadily and stopped opposite No. 221B.

The door opened and Moriarty stepped out of the carriage.

Following closely behind him was Moran.