Chapter 1388 Mystery

Half an hour ago, in the land of nothing, in the Central District, in the steel cube enclosed by layers of blocks, the fire in the fireplace was burning, and the firewood crackled in the flames.

Different from the cold and gloomy outside, everything in this cage-like room seemed to be still a long time ago.

Two comfortable chairs are placed in the reception area, which is perhaps the only place in the room that can be called tidy. A large number of books are piled up in all other places, with candlesticks, books, pens, papers, files, and records placed in a messy manner. , information, and black and white photos.

And among the large amount of debris that could not be called garbage but was treated like garbage, on a huge recliner, a middle-aged man lying in his clothes was soundly sleeping.

His face was sharp and angular, his nose was aquiline and slender, and his figure looked particularly tall. In his hanging hand, he was holding a pistol, which was shaking slightly with his snoring.

On the wall above the fireplace, there are still bullet holes from the pistol, as well as the owner's favorite violin, which is always barely level.

Like an afternoon nap.

Fake sunlight came in from the window and fell on his face.

So quiet.

Unfortunately, the perfect and peaceful life of living alone was soon broken.

Deep footsteps sounded from outside the door.

There was a knock on the door.

The sleeping man woke up from his dream and raised his gray eyes.

Tsk.

Mathers, push the door open and enter.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Detective." Mathers took off his hat, hung it on the hanger at the door, and asked casually: "It seems you had a good rest?"

"Insomnia, suffering, lingering in this boring world - but you, looking as energetic as a bulldog, 'Mr. Lestrade'."

Holmes greeted the guest who brought the commission in a condescending manner: "It seems that you have forgiven me for my last mistake?"

"..." Mathers sighed silently and sat on the armchair: "I know you don't like us, but I won't complain about your reasoning.

After all, if there are problems with the assumptions from the beginning, the results will naturally be very different. "

After all, who could have predicted that the thing Russell had hidden like a treasure for seventy years was not the Book of Destiny, but an unprecedented super semen bomb?

A trap that had been waiting for seventy years.

For this reason, he did not hesitate to transform the "Confessions", which can only bear the curse and pollution it suffered, to that extent.

He still had full confidence in the detective.

At the same time, they also cherish their last remaining trading opportunity.

The most famous reasoner who has appeared several times, the great detective Mr. Holmes who exists in the fictional country of England. The spirit formed by his image and records, as the first 'birther', has innately absorbed most of all history. About the elements and wonders of reasoning.

As a detective, his talent and intuition are undoubted, and as long as there are enough evidences and clues, he will be closer to the truth, and he can penetrate the essence of even difficult and complex puzzles.

Unfortunately, this respectable detective never compromises with evil, even if it means getting his hands dirty for Great Expectations. For him, evil is evil and will always be his enemy.

On the premise of preserving "The Detective Collection of Sherlock Holmes", the Golden Dawn allowed Holmes to provide services to the Golden Dawn three times in exchange for providing intelligence on the entire territory and even the abyss.

After three times, he will no longer respond to any requests from the Golden Dawn.

"Life on the run in the Far East is really hard."

Holmes sighed softly, turned the old-fashioned pistol in his hand, and raised his eyes to look at his client: "Then, Mr. Lestrade, why do you bother to come here at all the trouble?"

"Why don't you take a guess, Detective."

Mathers picked up the black tea: "Use your proud reasoning ability and let me see what you are capable of."

"Ha, I know, you like this kind of performance."

Holmes glanced at him: "Looking at your pretending to be calm, and your irritable tone and words, I'm afraid you are already overwhelmed by a lot of things.

Among so many melancholy, do you want me to choose the most stalemate one for you? How annoying, Mathers, I'm not your psychiatrist. "

He was disassembling the parts of the pistol in his hands and said slowly: "There are so many things that torture you. Let me guess - the one that confuses you the most is Westcott's silence. What makes you feel the most What is angry is that the Astronomical Society is "living on".

What makes you most anxious is Russell's trick - you are afraid, my Lestrade. "

He paused and smiled mockingly: "You can't see clearly the trends in the Kingdom of Heaven's pedigree. To be precise, you feel threatened by Huai Shi, even though he is just Russell's puppet in your eyes. But things change day by day. , let you find that this is a threat that is not inferior to Russell.

You desperately want to know what Huai Shi is doing, even if you haven't told anyone else.

No, that’s not what you’re really worried about—”

He stood up from the recliner, got closer across the coffee table, stared at Mathers' face, looked into his eyes, and couldn't help but grin: "Are you worried that Huai Shi has sneaked into Wu He You Zhi?" Let’s go inside the village!”

In the long silence, Mathers said nothing.

Just drinking black tea in silence.

After putting down the teacup, he sighed softly.

"You are indeed the best detective, Mr. Holmes. Unfortunately, you are still limited by the limitations of intelligence——"

Mathers shook his head, took out an urgent report that had just been delivered from the battlefield from his pocket, and placed it in front of him: "That was indeed something I was worried about, but reality has given me the answer."

"..."

This time, it was Holmes' turn to be silent.

He lowered his head and stared at the news on the paper in front of him - the dispute between Elysium and Rigoletto, the tragic losses, and the traces of Huai Shi

After a long moment, he smiled slightly and threw the report back into Mathers' arms without explaining anything: "Since you already have the answer, why bother asking me?

Or is this another test for me? "

"No, even if I didn't have an answer, I wouldn't ask you such a thing, Mr. Holmes."

Mathers flicked the page in his hand and turned it into ashes, "I have a more important commission for you to solve, a more confusing question for me, and a more eager answer."

"Is this your last question?" asked Holmes.

"That's right."

Mathers nodded: "We hope to get results."

"Then, I'm all ears." The detective finally stood up from his chair, smoothed his hair, and stopped smiling.

"The Piper."

Mathers asked solemnly: "What is the flute player planning?"

Holmes made no answer.

He just lowered his head and stuffed the pipe slowly without lighting it. He sniffed carefully and began to think after a long absence.

And Mathers didn't speak again.

He just drank the black tea that had already gone cold in silence.

The Piper's Plot.

This is what the Golden Dawn wants to know most.

There are too many fogs and inducements, making it difficult to see clearly and to think clearly. Even though Russell has many tricks, in the final analysis, he still has his biggest weakness - the genealogy of the Kingdom of Heaven.

But the piper is different.

He never cared about losing anything, and he never cherished everything he gained.

This is what makes the Golden Dawn most unsettling.

They don't care about the outcome of a war between worlds, because they can plan for the long term. As long as there are chosen people, human beings will continue in hell.

They don't care about the current situation's counterattack, because no one knows the current situation's fatal weakness better than them.

Likewise, they don't care about ruined nations and thundering seas. Power cannot destroy the current situation, because the current situation is caused by this power to reverse hell and recreate everything.

The rancher, who poses the greatest threat, has been stripped of all possibilities of entering the present situation by the Astronomical Society, leaving only the only medium, the man in gray.

But what about the flute player?

That strange existence that never showed its true identity was ignored by the current situation until it was confirmed by the Astronomical Society as one of the elements of destruction.

It's not even certain whether he is a creature or something else.

Why did he jump into this fight so enthusiastically?

"It's a shame, Mathers, that you wasted your last question."

When the long thought came to an end, Holmes regretfully put down the burnt pipe at the corner of his mouth and shook his head slowly: "There are too few clues, I don't know."

"...It doesn't matter, it's not your fault."

Mathers nodded clearly and stood up: "Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Detective. You can move freely in the future life. Of course, it will only be in the land of nothing. I sincerely hope that one day you can become one of us." .”

In fact, he didn't have much hope for this. Even Holmes was still unable to penetrate the nature of the Piper's conspiracy - through a long period of foreshadowing and bit by bit inducement, he was already in the dark. A complicated maze was built inside, and from across the maze, one stared at everything mockingly.

How could the truth shrouded in layers of mysteries be deciphered suddenly?

But the detective did not answer, or even be surprised by this restricted freedom. He just lowered his head, looked at the ashes in the pipe, and murmured softly for a long time:

"But he must be bored, right?"

"Um?"

Mathers' movements paused slightly and turned back.

"Yeah, boring."

Through countless fragmented clues and traces, the detective closed his eyes and groped for the outline of the truth in the darkness of that location, but could not get the answer, only the instinctive induction from intuition.

"Polite viewing, silent boredom, and disappointment without any surprises, the feeling of watching everything familiar day after day..."

Holmes pinched the burned ashes and smiled softly: "It's like...eating the food you've eaten again, reading the newspaper you've read again, and picking up the novel you've memorized by scrolling it down to the edge."

"I don't know why, and I don't have any evidence. I just think unilaterally that maybe he is tired.

The detective took one last look at his employer: "He is gradually losing interest in all this, that's why he is so eager for novel happiness.

So much so that I want to squeeze more surprises out of it, or——"

He paused at the end and smiled to himself:

"——Destroy everything simply and neatly."

He closed his eyes.

It was as if I could see the outline in the mist, the exit at the end of the maze.

The never-ending laughter echoed in the piper's strange palace.