Sherlock Holmes

He couldn't see, and his only one eye was under the exaggerated searchlight. He couldn't even see clearly what was in front of him. Naturally, it was impossible to see the scene inside the house through the real wall.

But the smell in the air is very clear, the water mist condensed by steam, the pungent smell of engine oil, the green and slightly sour smell of rusted steel, the burnt friction between bearings, and the faint smell of gunpowder emanating from the firearms.

Only there is no smell of blood.

The bell rang for the third time.

Big Ben was built for the victory of the second demonic invasion. It is extremely strict about the accuracy of time. At 12 o'clock at midnight, this huge bell will ring 12 times, and when the sixth bell rings, it will be today The moment of intersection with tomorrow.

So the soldiers knew that today was about to end, so no matter how much they restrained themselves, they finally couldn't resist the joy in their hearts!

From their perspective, the great Lord Nightingale was not assassinated!

Ripper failed!

Under his strict protection, the terrible murder curse was broken.

How could this make people not cheer for joy, so under the too bright searchlights, people began to smile more and more. They looked at each other, and saw sincere relief and excitement on each other's faces, and they kept tense. The anxious heart finally subsided, and some people even couldn't hold it in any longer, so they let out a cry of relief.

Only the old beggar remained motionless, and his nose, the only one with relatively complete facial features, was twitching slightly, as if he was trying his best to catch the trace of blood smell that should be wafting out of the air.

But he didn't smell it.

Moreover, in the apartment with house number 221B, there was no sound of fighting, no frightened calls for help, no curses, nothing, it was just so quiet.

It's like the silent suppression of two people fighting each other for life and death.

"Dong————" The bell came to the fourth tone.

The old beggar frowned slightly. He thought of the alley where he once lived, the bed made of newspapers and old clothes, the wine at night, the careless divination, and the person who was supposed to A young man who shines with dazzling brilliance in this world, but is always confused in his heart.

He could clearly feel that this young man was very similar to himself, whether it was his confused state or his focus on beauty.

Once upon a time, I put down my painting brush, picked up a gun, then sealed the gun, picked up the drunken wine glass, and became an unknown wanderer on the street.

The older a person gets, the more he wants to find a sustenance. Maybe deep down in his heart, he longs for the survival of his own will, so he uses this method to find a legacy.

John Watson

That should be the name.

I don't know why, I can't always remember his name, but after so many screenings, he is still the young man I admire most, even more than the young man named Stanley Hopkins. Suitable to inherit the title of [Ripper].

Although the latter is also very good, the justice that remains in his heart that cannot be erased will become an inner demon that he cannot ignore in the future.

The talent that the old beggar is most proud of is not actually killing people, but seeing into people's hearts. During so many years of wandering, he has seen too many people in the streets and alleys. All these people need to do is look at him. , or just showing some subconscious behaviors can expose the deepest little secrets hidden in his heart.

Otherwise, it would be impossible for him to just use some letters to poke into the darkest and most sensitive places in the hearts of those people, thereby building a murder network.

So he knew Watson well. They had been together for so many years, spent so many nights, and drank so much wine. The old beggar knew very well what he would do between the girl's life and a better future. choice.

So, why hasn't he taken action yet?

Is he in trouble?

When he thought of this, the old beggar guessed the only possibility almost instantly.

Sherlock Holmes, that guy who I have never been able to see through, the guy who clearly smells of sin, but still calls himself a detective, the guy who doesn't care about everything, indifferent to everything, doesn't care about life, doesn't advocate glory, and doesn't even have much A guy with human race consciousness, it's like he doesn't actually belong to this world, but just came to the world helplessly for some reason.

At this moment, he was also in that room, and only he could stop Watson.

But he had already used a letter to keep him within a meter of Watson. This distance should be considered safe for Watson.

So his plan was discovered?

"Boom————"

The fifth bell rang, and the sound that resounded in the night sky was the same as in the past few decades. It had long been accustomed to people in this city. No one would think there was anything wrong with it, and they just tolerated it. To the soldiers cheering loudly, this was a hymn of victory.

It seems that Watson needs some help.

So, before the fifth bell had dissipated, the old man staggered to his feet.

His broken body was swaying, as if he would fall down in the next second. Some people saw this scene, but they didn't care. No one thought that a disabled beggar could do anything at this moment.

No one would associate it with the feared Ripper.

However, no one noticed that the ropes tied around him had fallen off at this moment, or they had noticed, but at the moment when this picture came into their mind, they did not have time to do anything. Reflecting, he just saw that the light from the searchlight left a strange afterimage on the bloody and broken face.

It's an afterimage.

Because at this moment, the old man has disappeared!

And where he was standing just now, a huge cyclone suddenly appeared out of thin air in an instant. Something was pushing away the air because it was too fast, and the surrounding air waves were so short that it was instantaneous. The air pressure filled up, and a vortex that was close to a vacuum suddenly surged out.

BANG!

The friction between the air actually evaporated incredible heat waves. The vacuum quickly sucked in the surrounding airflow, then collided and pushed each other, and exploded at almost the same time, making a deafening roar, but before the sound wave could reach the ground, The dust flew up, and along the path that ran from here to the apartment on Baker Street, the line of blood gathered at an incredible speed was like a sharp sword pulled out of the void, piercing directly into the wall. middle.

The old beggar has lost one arm and one of his legs is lame. Three bullets were embedded in his shoulder. His leg bones were shattered by the gunshots just now. There is also a shrapnel penetrated in his liver. Keep bleeding out.

These new and old injuries caused him pain, made him move much slower, made him unable to concentrate, and made him weak.

But it's enough.

Therefore, his only remaining arm had already pierced the brick wall in front of him, and the cracked lines spread out from that point, but before the explosion, the old beggar's body had already broken through the wind pressure and Wall barrier.

At this point, he saw the scene in the room, saw a knife in Watson's hand placed on Nightingale's shoulder, saw people nervously confronting him, and saw the subtle way the man named Sherlock stood. At a point less than one meter away from Watson, it seemed that he was indeed aware of the full set he had set up.

Of course, it doesn't matter.

Because, at this moment, he had already approached the girl in the room, and before anyone could react, his straight forward fingertips had already pierced Nightingale's throat!

In every era, there will be a few people who are extremely talented in certain things. Ordinary people envy this talent and desire to be able to easily do things that others cannot do.

However, they don't know that if a person really has talents that others cannot match, it will be very painful and terrible.

Because you can do it, you have a responsibility, and just because ordinary people can't do it, they don't have to bear this responsibility. They just need to wait and see, and then stand on the moral high ground and judge it. Just give it a generous review.

Of course the old beggar doesn't care about other people's opinions, he just wants to make the world a better place, that's all.

On this point, he and John Watson reached a perfect agreement.

Therefore, he dragged his broken body, and after living for so many years, he finally wanted to do one last thing for the world as the empire entered a new era.

Six months ago, Emperor Augustine died.

Half a year ago, the new emperor ascended the throne.

Half a year ago, the young Son officially succeeded to the throne of Pope.

Half a year ago, the horn of mankind’s counterattack against hell sounded.

If this situation continues, closing the gates of hell should no longer be an unrealistic luxury.

so!

All he had to do was kill the only variable, the most beautiful girl in the world.

Although it is a bit unreasonable, because everyone knows that that girl is the kindest person, that girl should be respected and loved by everyone, and that girl certainly should not die.

However, when the photo appeared in front of his eyes, he had to admit that this girl seemed to be more than just the hope of the human world.

It was precisely because of that photo that the old beggar finally understood why this girl had never summoned her contracted creature at any time.

The melodious bell still did not dissipate, but the explosive sound that broke through the air finally covered up all the surrounding sounds at this moment, shaking everyone on the street with excitement and ears ringing.

The blood stains pulled out of the air were freed from the influence of speed, and were finally able to collapse in all directions. The wall of Apartment 221B finally shattered at this moment, turning into countless flying gravels, frantically beating the faces of everyone in the room. On the body.

People seem to finally have some reaction, but this reaction is far from enough for the human brain to receive accurate information, and then transmit it to the limbs, and make them behave as they should.

Hopkins was very close to Nightingale, but he only had time to open his eyes in extreme shock, and Gregson had no time to pull the trigger. In fact, he had no time to take aim at all, and Nopa The electric detonation device she had carefully developed that she was holding tightly had no time to press it.

Human nerves are like this. All actions require reaction time.

However, at this moment, a hand suddenly appeared on the old beggar's wrist, holding the withered bones in an extremely weird posture, as if it had been waiting there for a long time.

Moreover, the extremely clever force in an instant unexpectedly stopped the fingertips that suddenly arrived, without moving any closer.

The old beggar turned his head in confusion, and then he saw Sherlock's seemingly dull eyes, very close to him.

He was staring at himself, extremely serious, extremely curious, and extremely excited. The time at this moment was not enough for him to blink, but even if he was given a longer time, it seemed that he would not blink, he would just do this He kept staring with extreme curiosity.

That's right, it's this kind of look that you can't see through

Perhaps it was because his thoughts were so pure that they were somewhat deviated from the thought fluctuations that a normal person should have. Perhaps his thoughts were too confusing and complicated, which made the old beggar unable to distinguish between the thousands of thoughts.

But it doesn't matter anymore.

Because he has already taken action, Miss Nightingale is right in front of him. In this case, there is only one person in the entire empire who can stop him.

But that person is not here.

In fact, even if he were here, he wouldn't stop it, because that old guy was also one of the people who had seen Nightingale's contract creature.

So, in the half second that just passed, the old beggar's withered arm trembled violently. The terrifying speed and the instantaneous tremor in an extremely small space caused the bones and muscles to tremble once or dozens of times. The intense friction, which surpassed the physiological structure of a human being, erupted with a burst of hot power. Along the surface of the skin, like thousands of exploding bullets, the extremely violent and tyrannical blast of Sherlock's hand hit him. Its forceful formation opened!

Sherlock's glasses lit up, and curiosity almost bloomed in his eyes. He didn't blink, and continued to look at the old beggar with whom he had met with great concentration, completely ignoring the terrifying feeling. The power has penetrated his body, traveling upstream along every muscle between his arms, densely packed and dripping with blood, tearing open all the flesh and blood that penetrated it, causing unbearable pain for ordinary people.

Not only that, Sherlock actually wanted to continue to stop the opponent at this moment, so when one of his arms was really shaken open and shattered, the skin was broken inch by inch, and then a large amount of blood spattered out, he took him with him. With a little bit of excitement, he stretched out his other hand and grabbed the other person's face, as if he wanted to poke his fingers into the other person's eyes.

This low-quality trick that was only used in street fights actually took on a creepy feel at this moment.

At this point, the people in the room finally calmed down and felt a gust of wind blowing up around them for no reason. There was a muffled sound for a moment, and a few afterimages passed by, like a trickle of water blowing over them. The hair instantly turned into a torrent of water and crashed down.

In the cold shock from beginning to end, there was an extremely dense explosion, which was the buzz of the rapid collision between the flesh and blood of two people. No one saw that within half a second, the old beggar did what he did. What, maybe he and Sherlock were fighting each other beyond sight, or maybe he was unilaterally attacking each other and defeating all defenses like a bully.

In short, when people were finally able to let their limbs follow their thoughts and make the most subconscious reaction, Sherlock had already spit out a mouthful of blood, and his whole body roared and flew backwards, and the odor that escaped along the way The force directly caused the airflow in the room to oscillate. Along with the debris and sawdust that were still flying around, a table was easily shattered into pieces. The sheets and torn clothes were picked up by the strong wind and floated in the air. It formed an extremely messy scene.

In less than half a second, Sherlock's blood was flying and his muscles and bones were broken. No one can understand what kind of power this is, but it is obvious that Sherlock has lost all fighting ability at this moment.

But for some reason, the old beggar seemed to see his face when he flew backwards, and finally showed the brightest and most satisfied smile.

at the same time

"boom!"

A gunshot rang out.

The old beggar stared blankly at the bottom of his left rib. A bullet shot out. Then, there was another gunshot. His lungs were penetrated, and a bullet exploded the bones of his chest. Then came the arms, shoulders, knees, and elbows. Countless bullets blasted into his body almost simultaneously at this moment, and then exploded between the already aging organs.

Ahem

The old beggar frowned, coughed, and then turned his head in confusion, looking at John Watson who was holding a gun behind him.

The clock rang again, and midnight arrived as scheduled.

It has been combined into one chapter, otherwise there would have to be another "Next Chapter".