Sherlock Holmes

After the gates of hell were opened, human beings showed a rare attribute of 'unity'. There were no more countries in the world, and they were unified and called an empire.

London is one of the few cities that still retains its original name.

Of course, it also retains that grayish tone that won't fade away all day long.

noon

The word 'sun' almost never exists here.

The entire city's underground has been hollowed out to build those huge steam pipes and furnaces. A group of highly respected mechanical madmen dug up the Thames River, introduced a steady stream of river water deep into the ground, and then cooked it day and night. Burning, thousands of tons of water vapor are emitted into the sky every day, and then turn into acidic rain and fall down.

In the words of the old guys named "scientists", this is considered recycling, so you never have to worry about the day when you can't burn out steam.

Of course, they said nothing about the dwindling number of trees.

But the citizens don't care about this. They only know that this is London. It has the largest and most advanced steam furnace in the world. The entire city is wrapped in mechanical pipes. Steam is productivity. This is undoubtedly a pride.

It would be better if the air could be fresher.

At this time, Sherlock was traveling through this mechanical capital; he was riding in a cheap carriage that could stop at a moment's notice, costing only five pence per kilometer, with a huge suitcase half as tall as a man at his feet. , making the already not spacious space seem even more crowded. People outside the car window are noisy, and from time to time, the roar of factory operations and the sound of church bells in the distance can be heard.

In fact, sometimes, he really couldn't understand what people were thinking.

For example, it is obvious that those mechanical creations are becoming more and more cumbersome and inefficient, but people still have infinite confidence in them and believe that "boiling water" can ultimately save the world.

For example, we clearly know that no matter how we shout, the road will not be smooth, but almost everyone is urging the car in front of us to go faster!

For example, the uncle named Jack clearly knew that being a killer would not lead to a happy death, but when he wanted to arrest him, he still screamed strangely and picked up the knife and stabbed him.

Sherlock is desperately poor. He just wants to catch a few murderers and make a little money. What's wrong with him?

But Old Jack didn't cooperate at all and treated him so roughly. Sherlock was frightened and subconsciously snatched the knife away, then drove it into the opponent's waist, blade and handle.

Well, fortunately, humans have two kidneys, and they can survive even if one of them is crushed.

At least you can survive for a while.

So in order to save the time of going to the police station, Sherlock specially called a carriage, which also prevented the prisoner from losing a lot of blood and going into shock, or dying from pain.

He was always so considerate, even to murderers.

At half past two in the afternoon the carriage stopped at the main gate of Scotland Yard.

'Scotland Yard' is actually the name of the Metropolitan Police Department. As for why it was called such a name, Sherlock didn't know, and he didn't care. He just walked out of the carriage carrying the huge suitcase.

While paying, the coachman inevitably looked at the box again.

Because it was so big, I didn't know what was inside. It was so bulging that the weight almost broke the wooden handle, but the customer in front of me couldn't see any difficulty in carrying it.

"Mr. Sir?!"

"Oh!" The coachman recovered and said, "Sorry, it's 25 pence in total."

No matter how cheap the fare was, it turned into a considerable expense as the distance accumulated. Sherlock took out a few coins and handed them over distressedly.

"May the Holy Light bless you." The coachman took the money and said habitually.

"The Holy Light doesn't have time to protect me."

Sherlock responded feebly, and then ignored the coachman's surprised expression and walked straight to the police station. The tall and thin figure and the box in his hand formed an extremely inconsistent scene. The coachman looked at it blankly. For a moment, he felt dazzled because he seemed to see something twisting hard in the box.

Entering the police station, the noise here is even more noisy than on the street. After the second demonic invasion, London's security has not been very good. Murders, thefts, and robberies occur frequently. Maybe the citizens feel that even if they are themselves If you stay safe, you might one day be bitten to death by a small demon that emerges from the cracks in the void, and you will simply have to take revenge and complain.

"Asshole, get out of the way!"

There was a burst of yelling and cursing from the crowd, and then a homeless man smelling of alcohol stumbled out of the crowd. His hands were shackled, and it was obvious that he had committed a crime.

At the same time, this man must have drunk too much, otherwise he would not have thought of rushing out of the police station with his fat body. Sure enough, a policeman knocked him down in the next second, and stabbed him fiercely with the baton in his hand. There was a burst of electricity under the drunk man's armpit, and the prisoner twitched all over, and there was a smell of urine in the air.

This kind of situation is already considered the norm in Scotland Yard. The surrounding police officers didn't take it seriously at all. They even took the opportunity to hit the prisoner next to them with the baton in their hands, signaling to be honest, or else I'll do it to you.

"What a damn bad luck."

The policeman who knocked down the drunkard stood up and shook off the urine stains on his uniform. When he saw a reasonably well-dressed man standing next to him, he subconsciously complained:

"Sorry sir, the recent prisoners are not very obedient."

But just halfway through speaking, he suddenly froze.

Because he saw a huge suitcase in the other person's hand. He obviously knew the suitcase, because a trace of panic flashed uncontrollably in his eyes, but he still raised his head with a sense of luck.

As his eyes moved up, he also saw the other person's face, as well as the eyes that seemed to never wake up.

At this moment, the face that was still fierce when the prisoner was electrocuted suddenly turned into a very well-behaved one.

"Mr. Sherlock."

The sound wasn't loud, just a soft hum in the throat.

But the moment the name floated out, the noise around him suddenly stopped. Then, countless eyes turned towards him, and there were also some faint gasps.

Sherlock didn't pay attention to the strange behavior of the people around him, or he had long been used to it. He just looked at the obedient police officer in front of him in a daze, handed the big box in his hand forward and said:

"Hey, there's a murderer who was caught directly at the crime scene. He seems to be named Jack or Mike. Anyway, you can find out if you check the case."

He said it as if nothing had happened. Seeing that the other party didn't dare to answer, he simply let go.

"Puch!" sounded.

The box hit the ground heavily, like a piece of fat pork filled with water. Some blood splashed out from the joints of the leather at the bottom of the box, scaring the people nearby who invariably took a few steps back.

"Director Lestrade is in the office?" he continued to ask.

The police officers in front of them didn't dare to think too much and nodded quickly.

Sherlock: "Thanks."

Now that a criminal has been caught, he naturally has to talk to the director about the reward.

In fact, it stands to reason that if someone else catches the criminal, there is no need to bother the director with such a massive effort. They can just go to the police station and register. The only exception is Sherlock.

He walked towards the outside of the crowd, and the surrounding people naturally gave way to a path. Suddenly, a police officer seemed to remember something and shouted quickly:

"Mr. Sherlock, please stay."

"Huh?" He turned around.

The man dared not to dodge his eyes, and said seriously: "The director is currently receiving a very important guest. You'd better not disturb him."

"A very important guest?" Sherlock said thoughtfully, "Okay, I'll go to the reception room and wait for him first."

Pass through the quiet crowd, cross a deserted corridor, and enter the elevator.

Although the word "electricity" is in the name, its operation method basically relies on steam. There is no way. No matter how fashionable electricity is, its scope of application is still too narrow and can only be reduced to a foil of the times, just like a battlefield. Just like those conservative veterans who tried to fight off the devil with guns.

"Click~"

The lighter made a soft sound, and the weak flame trembled as it moved closer to the cigarette, as if it was afraid but did not dare to dodge.

at this time

"Wait a moment."

There was a whisper in the corridor, and a woman walked quickly towards the elevator. She looked about 25 years old, wearing a strange nun's outfit. There was no cumbersome long skirt and headscarf. On the contrary, everything was changed into something suitable for activities. Body shaping style.

Sherlock exhaled a long puff of smoke, his entire face surrounded by mist.

He didn't press the elevator button and let the elevator door close slowly.

"Time waits for no one, beautiful lady"