Sherlock Holmes

The guards in the Blood Prison had never experienced anything like this.

Natasha had never seen such a person before.

As a serious criminal, the man in front of him was able to walk out of the bloody prison intact. This was already a great gift. If Miss Nightingale hadn't been in danger of her life, this guy was indeed so good at solving cases. With a little talent, who would go to such great lengths to get him out of prison?

However, not only did this guy not appreciate it at all, he actually wanted to bring out another death row prisoner.

Is he crazy?

The surrounding jailers looked at each other in confusion, not knowing what to do. Natasha pursed her lips tightly and glared at the man in front of her: "Don't think that we are asking for anything from you, so you really regard yourself as indispensable." People, amnesty only exempts you from punishment, not acquits you. If you don't cooperate, we can imprison you again at any time, do you understand?"

It stands to reason that this is indeed the case.

But at this moment, how can Sherlock be treated according to common sense? Now that he has come out, no one can lock him in again.

He knew this very well, so as if he didn't hear the other party's warning, he continued to put on his indifferent posture and repeated: "It's the same sentence, I need my partner, a man named John. Watson's death row, if you are really worried about Miss Nightingale's safety, you'd better release him quickly. Our time is precious now. If you delay for too long, you can't afford this responsibility."

These words made Natasha feel a surge of anger, and even felt a little unreasonable. She was wondering if this guy had stayed in the blood prison for too long and was already in a semi-crazy state.

But as the other party said, time now cannot afford to be wasted, so she decided not to talk nonsense with this guy and shouted directly:

"Tie this guy to the car!"

The words have not yet fallen

"Please wait a moment!"

A voice suddenly came, and Natasha looked sideways, and then she saw the warden running over panting, her chubby body bumping up and down with the pace, wiping sweat as she ran closer , forced a smile: "Miss Natasha, actually, I think you can ask your superiors for instructions, just in case the criminal named John Watson is also pardoned."

"Ah?!" Natasha was startled. She didn't understand what the warden meant.

If the guy named Sherlock could be pardoned because of Miss Nightingale's extraordinary status, why could the death row prisoner named Watson be pardoned?

Just because he's this guy's assistant? !

Natasha frowned. She was able to enter the trial court at a young age, and her observation skills were definitely not bad, so she was very keen to catch a hint of strangeness in the tone of the warden in front of her. As the top person in charge of the Blood Prison , his official position must be higher than that of Natasha, but he used the honorific title "you" to her very strangely, and between the lines, it seemed that there was a hint of request.

What was going on? It was as if he was nervously reminding her that it was best to do what this death row prisoner said first.

Thinking back to the way he ran over panting just now, Natasha felt doubts in her heart. She glanced at Sherlock, then at the warden, and lowered her voice and asked something she had been saying. Questions of great concern:

"Excuse me, what crime did this guy commit?"

A meaningful smile appeared on the warden's chubby face, and he avoided the question directly: "Contact your supervisor quickly. The situation is urgent. It is not good for anyone to waste time."

As he said this, a jailer walked up next to him, holding the phone cord and holding a phone in front of Natasha.

She looked at the phone in silence, and she realized with some incredulity that the warden was afraid of this death row prisoner?

With increasing shock and confusion, Natasha dialed the internal staff number of the Third Division of the Inquisition, and then recounted the situation here to the operator.

But what she didn't expect was that the operator directly connected the line to the office of the newly appointed supreme judge of the Third Division [Stanley Hopkins]. After hearing the appeal of the death row prisoner, the new appointee The officer didn't hesitate at all. He just said 'wait a moment' and hung up the phone. A few minutes later, he called back again and said solemnly: "Give the phone to the warden of the Blood Prison."

Natasha was confused by her boss's instructions. After she handed the phone to the warden, she was even more shocked to hear a series of conversations from the other party that she could not understand:

"Oh, it's me."

"Haha, okay, now that the procedures are completed, of course we must fully cooperate."

"In fact, we have already prepared it. We can release him now."

"Don't be in a hurry. You can make up for the detailed procedures later."

"Of course it won't be a problem."

After saying that, the warden seemed to finally breathe a sigh of relief, hung up the phone, and then looked directly at Sherlock with a smile, a face full of fat: "Mr. Holmes, your assistant's pardon order has also been issued. Please wait a moment, we will release you immediately."

"It's really hard work." Sherlock responded politely to the warden. He still had to do some face-saving work. The two of them exchanged some casual greetings. In this way, the warden took the people around him. The jailer left.

Natasha, who was left with her head still buzzing and completely unable to react to the situation, couldn't understand why another death row prisoner could be pardoned just by this guy's words, even if the Pope came in person. Well, it’s impossible for such a thing to happen.

She took a few breaths very quickly to calm her breathing, and the doubt in her heart became turbulent again. She stared at the other party, and finally couldn't hold it in any longer, and asked again:

"Why were you imprisoned in the blood prison?"

"Kill." The man in front of him said calmly.

"Who was killed?"

"." Sherlock raised his eyes slightly, and then smiled: "Just an old civilian guy who has just retired."

Of course Natasha would not believe that the other party was imprisoned in the Blood Prison just for killing an old civilian. However, he did not say anything and the warden also avoided the question intentionally or unintentionally. Then she finally realized that she should not be allowed to do it anymore. Ask more.

And just then.

There was a "creak" sound from the door.

Natasha raised her head, and the next second, she was a little surprised to see a blond man walking out. She watched the man raise his head and glanced at the sunshine above his head. After several months in prison, he had already lost his temper. I like to squint my eyes even tighter, like two beautiful arcs drawn on them.

But Natasha felt that the sunlight pouring down from the skylight above her head was a little brighter and stung her eyes. She couldn't help but feel like all women's yearning and jealousy for beautiful things. She said in disbelief: This person is also sentenced to death. Is it a crime?

One cannot judge another person based on appearance alone, so no matter how good-looking the man in front of him is, he is still a death row prisoner.

Natasha took a deep breath and adjusted her mentality, hoping that no one had noticed her appearance at that moment.

Immediately afterwards, she began to handle the handover procedures for the two condemned prisoners. The whole process was extremely smooth. It could be felt that some of the rules in the blood prison were relaxed because of these two people.

Twenty minutes later, the door embedded in the mountain slowly opened, and two men and one woman walked into the windy sand of the Gobi Mountains under the complicated gazes of several jailers.

Dry, desolate, with no human habitation in sight, this kind of scenery would definitely cause great discomfort to ordinary people if they saw it.

But in the eyes of Sherlock and Watson, it was very good. There were no shackles on their feet, and they were not in the rough prison clothes. Even if the dry wind blew by, they would subconsciously take a few deep breaths. It seems that there is a sense of freedom in it.

At this time, what was in front of them was a steam locomotive.

Natasha looked at the two people next to her and motioned for them to get in the car. According to the original plan, she should leave this no-man's land with these two people, and then take an airship to London tonight.

Um. That's right, they're going back to London.

Because Miss Nightingale's name appeared in the Ripper's murder notice, the Tribunal had already contacted her early and protected her, and because Sherlock was listed as protecting Nightingale. He was the important person in charge of Miss Er's safety, so the security location was naturally moved to London, which he was more familiar with.

In fact, if you think about it, the location of the first murder committed by the Ripper was in the Whitechapel district of London, and now, the location of his final confrontation has returned to London again. It seems that there are more murders. A touch of fatalism.

In this way, several people walked towards the steam locomotive below.

But suddenly, Sherlock frowned, stopped and looked to the side.

Following his action, Natasha and Watson also turned their heads, and saw another car slowly approaching at the corner of a rock mass not far away.

The Blood Prison, a place that people kept away from, was not a place where people often came, so at the juncture of a few people being released from prison, another steam locomotive appeared. This was definitely not a coincidence.

Soon, the car stopped in front of several people, and then a tall woman wearing a maid outfit got out.

Natasha frowned, because the first thing she saw was the maid's left hand. It was not the skin and bones that a normal human should have, but some kind of machine wrapped in steel.

After the person got out of the car, like all maids, she bowed respectfully to the young judge in front of her:

"Miss Natasha, you have worked really hard during this time, but please leave it to me to send these two people to London."

Natasha looked serious. She had been following the Ripper serial murder case from the beginning. She was the one who came to visit Sherlock in the Blood Prison and took him out of the prison afterwards. It was finally over. Suddenly A maid came out and said she wanted to take away the two people behind her?

Then she would definitely not agree.

And she could hear that although the maid in front of her acted very respectfully, her tone clearly showed an attitude that did not allow her to refute, which made her a little unhappy:

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Sebastina Moran a maid."

"I can see your identity, and I'm asking which organization you serve." Her tone was also very tough, because she didn't think any force could snatch people from the hands of the Inquisition.

"I am not loyal to any organization." Moran responded flatly: "If you are asking about my master, I serve the current Pope."

A gust of wind carrying sand and dust, mixed with the unique heat of the rock mass, splashed on the young judge's body. Some sweat broke out on her forehead, but she didn't notice it, she just felt She was a little tired today, and her head was always buzzing, which made her a little confused, as if everything was so absurd.

On the road, a nothing special steam locomotive was driving rapidly.

Moran sat in the driver's seat. As a qualified maid, she was good at most things in life, and driving was naturally no problem for her.

In the back seat, Sherlock and Watson sat side by side. The vibration of the car body was not that strong, and there was no harsh roar of the steam turbine. It seemed that the engine of this car had some electrical systems added to it. The windows were open, and the sunlight and The howling wind rushed into the car, taking away some of the heat, and the messy hair that had not been cut for four months was fluttering in the wind.

"Is that guy Moriarty busy lately?" Sherlock couldn't help but ask.

"The Pope has recently been preparing for the reform of the division of parishes. He has not had a good rest for a long time." Moran said, and it could be heard that she was still worried about her master's health as always.

Sherlock looked out the window. Only now did he realize that Moriarty had become the current Pope.

"Okay, I know I can come out, and that kid must have put in a lot of effort, so when you go back, thank him for me."

Moran was silent for a while and then said: "Actually, the master asked me to pick you up this time to express his gratitude."

Hearing this, Sherlock smiled

In fact, it is quite complicated to really explain this matter and who should thank whom.

Although Moriarty strongly opposed Shylock's assassination of Emperor Augustine at the beginning, this tragic assassination did provide Moriarty with real help.

If Sherlock hadn't rushed over and killed the old emperor with no sense of social responsibility, then the complex network of relationships that Augustine the Great had weaved over the past 60 years would not have been able to calm down after his abdication. In this way, Moriarty could do this Shylock played a major role in successfully inheriting the throne of the Pope.

After that, Moriarty must have spent a lot of effort to rescue him. After all, this kid had just become the new pope. He couldn't resist the pressure from all parties and ignore the rules set by the first pope to release Shylock. This Sherlock didn't bother to think about how many messy operations there were. In short, he could almost guess that the old man could appear in the blood prison, and there must be some shadow of Moriarty in it.

It's just that he still can't think of how that boy influenced Lord Dante.

"However, it's impossible for you to run so far just to convey your gratitude to that boy." Sherlock asked again.

"Indeed. The master said that he can inherit the throne of the Pope unimpeded, and you have been of great help to him. Although this may not be your original intention, he will always give you some practical thanks." Moran said this , paused intentionally or unintentionally, and then continued:

"The master of the demon you used to demonstrate your results in the wild demon controlled experiment has used some methods to incorporate it into your name."

"What?!"

This sentence really made Sherlock startled slightly, and Watson next to him even opened his eyes a little.

Looking at it, there are not many third-level contractors in the entire empire, but they are actually not too many. Each of them is the highest-level combat power of the organization to which they belong. Especially on the front line, how many teams are surrounding the third-level contractors? Configured by the devil.

Therefore, the third-order great demons are extremely valued existences, and each one is firmly controlled by the Holy See. There is even an entire landmass just to store these large demons.

As for Sherlock, he is still only a second-stage contractor. Although he has possessed a third-level great demon with his powerful brainpower and the special attributes of his tentacles, that crimson should definitely not be what he thinks. It's his private property.

The wind blowing in through the car window whistled around Sherlock. He thought about the time he spent with [Crimson], the many days and nights, the memories of their hard training, and that winter night, in the snowfield and... The unforgettable battle in Baskerville. Sherlock smiled:

"Then this gift is really big."

"And..." Moran drove the car onto the highway and headed towards the nearest urban area. There seemed to be a sudden hint of nervousness in her tone:

"The master said

If you summon that third-level demon, he will do everything he can to suppress it.

But no matter how you did it, I hope you never do it again.

He will send Crimson to the Demon Breeding Farm. If you need it in the future, you can apply according to the normal process, or you can even ask him directly for it through personal relationships.

But if you summon that demon again, the group of divine servants in the Temple of Holy Light will discover it.

No one can protect you”

Following these words, the car fell into silence for a moment.

Watson looked at Sherlock with incredible eyes, and after a long while: "Did you summon a third-level demon?"

Sherlock hesitated for a moment and nodded awkwardly: "Please believe me, I didn't mean it."

In this way, the car continued along the road until it entered a site dedicated to the Holy See.

A high-speed airship bound for London has been waiting there for a long time.

This 5,000-word article will be published in two chapters. On the last day of August, please count your votes. I have a disease that makes me unable to eat without votes.