Sherlock Holmes

No one can really describe what kind of smell is in the air of the empire now.

Take London for example. In the Great Crusade, the economy was depressed and all taxes were used to build a military base on the other side of the Redek Strait. However, the streets were lined with merchants and small stalls were full of people. After a day of work, everyone gathered in the corner tavern, opened a cup of wine, and fantasized about the coming of a new era in the near future.

Even during the second demon invasion, the corpses of demons and the blood of the garrisoned soldiers appeared on the streets from time to time, but people still stood firmly on the last line of defense, waiting to beat the next batch of demons into a hornet's nest.

There have been many critical moments in the history of the empire, but people have persisted because they can see hope.

It is the kind of even if I fight for my life, my wife can live a good life, even if our whole family died in this tragic battle, our descendants will always have a happy day.

Hope is the most basic element for people to survive.

But today's empire is dead.

Most of the shops on the street were closed. The doors were knocked open, and the goods inside had long been looted. The wind blew through the open doors, creaking and shaking. Some workers who seemed to have lost their souls walked towards the factory in confusion. There was no expression on their faces. It seemed that they could not find the meaning of work. They just felt that if they did not work today, they might not have food to eat at night.

In just a few years, the empire has changed from a once powerful human society to a decaying and dying aggregate, just like an old man with cancer, who has no hope of recovery, but has not died yet, struggling on the threshold between life and death, allowing cancer cells to grow and devour themselves bit by bit.

And the cancer of the empire is called [Moriarty].

The government obeyed the emperor's will and tried its best to create a festive atmosphere, but the government had no money, no way to hold a parade, and no money to buy colorful lights. It had to use public loudspeakers to play festive music all over the street, and then paste colored paper on the street lights to create a colorful visual.

But after nightfall, those colored papers dyed the dim light into pieces of messy spots, outlining the whole city like a terrible illusion.

The glory faded, and the smell in the air was called despair.

Even during the celebration, the deadness, depravity, filth, evil, and corruption were still everywhere. Those lights were like a microcosm of the despair of the people of the empire, and they were incompatible and hard to be kneaded together.

In such a scene, a lonely figure walked on the long street, but seemed to be perfectly integrated into it, just like those old photos, in the mottled light of the Thames before night, a bleak back in a windbreaker, quietly walked past the equally bleak buildings, not hurried or slow.

A taxi passed by

This vehicle powered by electricity and fuel came out a few years ago, and gradually showed signs of replacing horse-drawn carriages on the streets of London. After all, the feces all over the streets affected the city appearance.

"Sir, do you need a ride?"

The driver rolled down the window and asked. From his deep sunken eyes, it can be seen that he has been having a bad time recently.

The economic depression has left most people without the spare money to take a taxi, but this driver has a family to support.

"Okay."

The man in the windbreaker nodded and sat in the back seat of the car.

"Where to?"

"London airship landing station."

"Uh" the driver hesitated for a moment, but kindly reminded: "During the recent celebration, the civil airship has stopped operating. If you need to travel far, it is better to go to the train station."

"No, there are too many tourists on the train, and the airship is more convenient. I'll just grab one."

"???"

The driver felt a little absurd when he heard such strange words. He subconsciously cast his eyes to the rearview mirror, and then saw the face with too sharp edges in the back seat.

He frowned, because he seemed to have seen this face somewhere, but he couldn't remember it for a while.

"Sir, you are a person who likes to joke" The driver responded with a smile. Chatting with passengers is also a basic professional skill for taxi drivers.

But the next second.

His face froze for a moment, then he opened his mouth slightly. He didn't even bother to look at the road ahead. His eyes were fixed on the rearview mirror, and his eyeballs seemed to pop out.

He remembered this face!

Just a few years ago, this face frequently appeared in major newspapers. It was a hero, a criminal, resurrected from the dead, and killed by Lord Dante.

Yes, the person who should have died long ago.

"You you."

"Look at the road." Sherlock reminded calmly.

The driver quickly turned the steering wheel to avoid running out of the road.

This was a very difficult journey. Any driver who knew that he was actually pulling the wanted criminal of the empire who should have died long ago would probably find it difficult to keep calm. However, it might be that this driver himself was a person who couldn't stand loneliness and curiosity. He drove silently towards the outskirts of London, and passed more than ten minutes nervously.

"Sir, aren't you dead?" He actually chatted with the terrorist wanted criminal behind him like an occupational disease.

"Of course, but this isn't the first time I've come back from the dead, right?" Sherlock didn't mind, just looked out the window and responded to the chat.

"So, where are you going this time?"

"The ancient Roman city."

Sherlock said calmly.

The driver seemed to have thought of something. He was trembling all over, and he used all his strength to keep his breathing steady. He wanted to ask something more, but the words were choked on his lips, and he just stepped on the accelerator slightly. , speeding up and driving towards the destination.

Soon, the car stopped, Sherlock got out of the car and paid the bills.

Without needing too many words, he just turned around and walked towards the airship landing site not far away.

"Sir, be careful along the way." The driver suddenly shouted.

The figure in the windbreaker did not look back and waved his hands in the wind casually, just like those tourists taking an airship to meet old friends.

Of course, as the driver said, there are no civilian airships operating anymore, and Sherlock always has some hiccups in the process of grabbing the airship.

For example, when he passes the guard, he is always asked why he is here. When he forced himself to enter the airship docking station, he was stopped by guards. After seeing his face, some people recalled something, and everyone took out their guns in panic.

But for some reason, people seemed to think of the destination he just mentioned, and the reason why he became a wanted criminal back then was because he assassinated the emperor.

An extremely ridiculous scene appeared like this.

The guards, who were facing a formidable enemy, suddenly put down their guns and pointed at an airship in the distance.

"That model has enough power and can fly there in two days."

"Thanks."

Sherlock pressed the brim of his hat and walked towards the airship.

Two days later.

The ancient Roman city of France may be the city that caters most to festivals in the entire empire at this stage.

This imperial capital has been known for its coldness over the past few centuries. It is like a never-ending machine and never participates in any festivals, even New Year's Day.

But today, the entire city was decorated in an extremely gorgeous way, and many tourists even came here to participate in the parade and celebration.

The reason is mostly because today's ancient Roman city is open to the public. Not only does it have various celebrations, but it is also completely free.

"Master, the carriage outside is ready."

In the emperor's mansion, Moran opened the study door and reported.

And when she saw her owner in the house, she couldn't help but be stunned. Because she didn't know how many years it had been since she had seen Moriarty wearing such gorgeous clothes.

That royal robe, that crown, that scepter that symbolizes absolute power.

These symbols of dignity, which had always been thrown in the corner, were all worn on the man in front of him at this moment, and Moriarty smiled, as if today was the moment when he truly ascended the throne.