It's just a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Chapter 2 The Door at the End of the Corridor
The contents of the envelope were not thick, it looked like there was only one piece of paper.

But at this moment, Sherlock, who had fallen into the shameless fantasy life in the future, woke up.

For the first time, he didn't care about the letter that fell on the ground, but looked up at the owl circling above his head with wide eyes, thinking uncertainly in his heart.

Train an owl to deliver a letter?

Is this a traditional custom among British nobles?

Just like the flying pigeons in ancient China?
After all, he is not an expert in studying foreign history and customs, and without trying to understand the reason, Sherlock shook his head, bent down and picked up the letter on the ground.

The owl saw that he had got the letter, and stopped lingering overhead.

Because it didn't get the food reward, it gave Sherlock a bit of a blank look with some resentment, and then flapped its wings and went to the nearby woods to catch mice.

Of course Sherlock didn't know what the owl was thinking, and he was frowning at the moment studying the letter in his hand.

The envelope was made of heavy parchment, addressed in emerald green ink, and had no postage stamp on it.

[From Mr Sherlock Forrester, 13 Magnolia Road, Surrey]

The name on the address was Sherlock himself. He turned the letter over and saw a wax seal and a coat of arms on the front.

Surrounding the capital "H" are a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake.

The emblem composed of four animals looked unexpectedly familiar, but Sherlock couldn't remember where he had seen this emblem.

Knocking on the head, he shook his head. He didn't rush to open the envelope immediately, but held it together with the will in his hand, intending to go to the house first.

The gate key was chained to the house key and was returned to him by the hospital along with his other personal belongings when he was discharged.

The rusty door made a harsh noise as it opened.

The yard was overgrown with weeds, and Sherlock, who seemed to like to be neat and tidy, frowned slightly with obsessive-compulsive disorder.

But of course he didn't have time to worry about this at this time, he walked directly to the door of the house along the path surrounded by weeds.

Just when he was about to use the key to open the door, there was a long "squeak" sound from the old wooden door.

Sherlock didn't even have time to insert the key into the keyhole, and the dilapidated door opened by itself.

He froze on the spot for a moment, feeling inexplicably as if a cold wind was blowing past him.

As an outstanding youth cultivated by China's nine-year compulsory education and seven years of high-quality education, Sherlock was a standard materialist in his previous life.

Although there was a bizarre event that allowed him to travel back to the past and possess a soul that could not be explained by science, his thoughts had not changed for a while.

Haunted house?

Sherlock shook his head and smiled.

How could there be ghosts in this world?

Just like adults use magic to deceive children, ghosts are just fantasy products made up by adults to deceive other adults.

It must have been that the door had not been closed before, and a gust of wind had blown it open just now.

Having found a scientific reason, had sufficient excuses, and received proper comfort, Sherlock pushed the door open as if nothing had happened, and walked into the house.

There is a significant difference from the clutter in the yard, and the living room of the house is surprisingly tidy.

But the overall environment in the room seemed a bit dark.

It was clear and clear outside, but there were not a few rays of sunlight coming in inside the house, which made the place look like a medieval castle, with a depressing atmosphere.

Sherlock casually put the will and the envelope on the shoe cabinet next to him, then took off his coat, and was about to throw it on the sofa, but suddenly found that, at some point, there was an extra hanger beside him.

He stopped the movement of his hands, and looked suspiciously at the clothes hanger on his right, which was only a step away from him.

Just now, this thing is here?
Of course, it was just a simple suspicion. From the beginning, Sherlock's attention was always on the furnishings in the living room, and he didn't pay too much attention to whether there was a hanger by the door.

He hung the coat on the hanger, and then walked into the living room with the will and the letter.

And just after he turned and entered the room, the hanger hanging on the coat suddenly seemed to come to life, quietly moved its position, and returned from the front of the door to the originally inconspicuous corner.

Sherlock, with his back turned to it, was unaware of its actions.

After he walked into the room, he first checked all the rooms in the house.

Except for the poor lighting, this is a very ordinary and clean room.

It's just that the owner's taste is a bit retro, and most of the furniture in the house is in the European medieval style, coupled with the dark environment here.

It makes people feel that this is not a modern residential house, but a dark fortress of some lord in the Middle Ages.

But aside from these, the house only looks a bit dilapidated from the outside, but the facilities inside are complete and the space is large. The living area on the first floor is perfectly separated from the rest area on the second floor.

For Sherlock, who had the ultimate goal in his previous life, he didn't even dare to expect to have such a flat.

Even without that cheap father's inheritance, this suite alone would have made him lucky enough.

However, when he was checking the bedroom on the second floor, a strange door at the end of the corridor on the second floor caught Sherlock's attention.

It was a gray-black wooden door. If you didn't stare in this direction intentionally, and combined with the dark environment in the house, it would not be easy for ordinary people to find this door.

Moreover, the entire door was bare, except that there were no lines, and there was not even a doorknob.

If Sherlock hadn't accidentally noticed the metal hinge connecting the door to the wall, he would have even subconsciously ignored this room.

Up to now, he hasn't noticed anything wrong, and he attributed this strange door to the weird hobbies of his original body.

Like when he decorated his home into an "old witch's secret base."

Partly because he wanted to have a thorough understanding of where he would live in the future, and partly out of curiosity, Sherlock stood in front of the door, stretched out his hand and gently pushed the wooden door without a handle.

The door was pushed open with a slight gap, revealing a soft warm yellow light from inside.

At the same time, a sharp female voice suddenly screamed from behind the door.

"Xia! Luo! Ke!"

Shocked by the scream, the unsuspecting Sherlock took a few steps back, his back was pressed against the wall, his hairs were blowing up!
in this room
someone!

(End of this chapter)