Sherlock Holmes

Everything seemed to be going according to plan.

A person is willing to be the ultimate bad guy, take all the grudges on himself, and then die successfully at the right time.

It seems quite simple to say, except that this person must have the ability to transfer all hatred to himself, making people in the two worlds tired of fighting each other, and pushing everyone's yearning for peace to the extreme. Then he must have absolute control, so that after he dies, everything can be reshuffled, and so on.

Well, okay, that doesn't sound very simple.

But Moriarty did a good job, and Sherlock did a good job.

At this grand parade at the beginning of the new calendar, let everything come to an end. No one is pointing at the desolate hell and shouting "Kill them for me" for no reason, and no one is holding on tightly to the whole empire. Financial power forcibly welds people's lives on the line of food and clothing.

When the warriors of Hell no longer heard the horn of charge, the tired Survivor Alliance guards finally got to rest. They squatted on the ruins of the battlefield and looked up at the sky helplessly. The elevator at the Gate stopped transporting weapons of war, and the war that had tortured mankind for several years finally had an opportunity to stop.

People blankly accepted the sudden person who ended Moriarty's life in a sudden way. Of course, people didn't know that before Moriarty knew that his death was coming, he had already entrusted many affairs to him. Some friends who are professional enough.

For example, his maid Moran is about to inherit his unfinished business, waiting to step into hell, sit down face to face with people in another world, and have a meeting that determines the fate of mankind. For example, Catherine is about to collaborate with the entire Academy of Life Sciences, waiting to accept human technologies that are 800 years ahead of her, working hard to absorb and digest them, and release them into people's lives at an appropriate rate.

For example, Ms. Irene will take charge of the empire's few economies and use a few years as soon as possible to restore vitality to this ruined country. As for the 'time and space refugees' from another world, in fact, in the hands of the empire, There is an extremely strong bargaining chip that allows them to stay quietly in the area assigned to them. The hatred that has been publicized for hundreds of years will surely fade away in the next few generations.

That is, we have someone here who can cure radiation sickness.

No surgery, no medicine, no pain, just root removal.

For those hell natives who have lost the ability to reproduce, there is a high probability that Nightingale will be enshrined as a god.

As for another ending to this story.

It should be more cheerful, free and easy, and more in line with the term "big devil".

In fact, what Sherlock expected at the beginning was to be implemented according to such a plan.

Moriarty's position was originally designed for him.

Just imagine, when Sherlock commissioned the people of hell to collect tens of millions of mutated creatures for himself, did he really just want to use the huge number to prop up a new gate to hell?

Why did those demons take no further action after falling into the human world?

Imagine again, when a person can control tens of millions of demons, and these demons can be used as nourishment to breed 'little tentacles', which can penetrate into the bodies of more demons to continue to control. More demons.

This is a geometric expansion sequence with almost no upper limit. With a basic number of tens of millions, in a few years, Sherlock will become a terrifying existence that controls hundreds of millions of demons.

And when these demons have a clear goal, can organize their troops, and know how to attack and retreat, then how can human weapons be their opponents on the battlefield?

That's not all, don't forget, there is no such thing as Holy Light now. In other words, these demons can tear open a rift in the void at any position, and then Wuyang Wuyang rushes out, and can also tear open an extremely A long spike protruded from a small crack as small as a fingernail, killing anyone silently.

In this case, no one's life belongs to him.

Sherlock really became the most terrifying evil as originally expected.

He is entrenched alone in his own devil's nest. No matter the empire or hell, he is no match for him. The two forces that are fighting each other to the death have to unite to see a glimmer of hope.

The easiest way to resolve a conflict is to create a more terrifying one.

This method sounds a bit like 'cut off your head and you won't have any more headaches', but in certain circumstances, it is the most effective method.

And when people from the two worlds form an alliance to simultaneously fight against Sherlock, the world-destroying demon, the two groups of humans will inevitably experience a cruel run-in until they finally accept each other. As for the finale, there may be some super weapons that have been sealed by human governments for a long time and will be mentioned again.

For example, the thing called [Nuclear Bomb] that no one knew about until the sun exploded.

According to legend, the existence of that thing can destroy the entire human race.

Using a weapon of this magnitude to fight against that big demon should be the last resort.

On that day, perhaps somewhere on this planet, a burst of strong light will suddenly burst out, and then a mushroom cloud will rise, and a hurricane will pass through, turning all the demons around into debris. The world is like a speaker unplugged, and the big demon who almost ruled the world will also be wiped out under this strong light.

So far, it is another happy ending.

Of course, if a story has a predetermined ending, then it is not far from the end.

But as the big star-like eyes said before, in fact, this world is just a very small one among thousands of worlds. Under that dark background, every small light spot is a microcosm of a world, and the light spots Sherlock saw at that time were almost as bright as stars.

When Sherlock opened his eyes again, he had come to a place like a [platform].

Looking at the other side of the platform, the star-like microcosm of the world can still bring him the initial shock, and on the other side of the platform, several doors of different sizes, each with their own characteristics, are embedded in the white wall.

Sherlock knew that this place was like a transit station between thousands of worlds. Behind every door was a brand new world.

For example, the door not far from him was a very ordinary iron apartment building door with the words 221B written on it.

As long as he pushed open this door, he could walk into the familiar Baker Street.

As for the other doors, they all belonged to people who came here before him.

The big-eyed man said before that the people who could come here were the most amazing and brilliant in each world.

Sherlock, who was extremely conceited and had a strong curiosity about all kinds of things, naturally wanted to see what other worlds were like, and by the way, he also wanted to understand what kind of people were the guys who were qualified to be called geniuses like himself.

So, he walked towards an ancient wooden door, the kind of door that was unique to the Eastern country thousands of years ago that could only be seen in historical documents and photos.

As for why he chose this door, it was just because this door was closer to his own door [221B].

"Squeak~~~"

The door hinge slowly turned.

As the door crack opened a little bit, a chilly breath from another world drifted out.

Sherlock walked in and looked around curiously.

At this moment, he seemed to be in a foggy mountain, surrounded by green grass and bamboo, and occasionally heard birds singing in the distance.

But the fog was particularly thick, like layers of curtains, making it impossible to see through 10 meters away.

He walked along the stone steps into the fog.

After turning around a few narrow paths, the fog suddenly dissipated.

Sherlock stared at the scene on the other side of the thick fog.

This is a small bamboo house built in the mountains. It is quiet and remote, like someone's retreat. However, what grows on the ground is not grass, but dense fingers, which stick out from the ground one by one, like dense and enlarged fungal spores, wriggling constantly. A cobblestone road extends crookedly to the bamboo house not far away, but some of the pebbles will open suddenly, and the eyeballs will rotate wildly, and then gradually close.

A woman in white clothes is attached to the terrible "grassland", carefully selecting mature fingers, then holding a sickle, slightly cutting off one and putting it in a basket beside.

The lady must have heard footsteps, and looked up.

It was a typical oriental face, and the white gauze Roman on her body was also the most typical oriental old style. Her face was extremely beautiful, with the gentleness unique to married women, and the pure beauty of not being worldly and the daily life of a wife were integrated without conflict.

"Oh, a new face."

The woman smiled slightly, showing her dignity.

Then she turned around and said to another younger woman in a green tight dress in front of the bamboo house: "Sister, go and call your husband, tell him that a guest is coming."

The woman in the green dress glanced over from a distance, gently patted the baby sucking her fingers in her arms, turned her head unhappily, and shouted into the bamboo house.

"Xu, someone is coming."

"Who is it?" A man's voice came from the bamboo house, sounding very kind, like a scholar.

The woman in green lowered her head and continued to tease the baby in her arms. It seemed that her cold face would only show a hint of smile when facing the child.

"Who knows, maybe he's just here to listen to the story."