Sherlock Holmes

"Other worlds?"

Sherlock was still not too surprised. If [Hell] and [Human World] were considered two worlds, then theoretically there must be more worlds. He had already thought about this.

But he never thought that he would actually witness these worlds with his own eyes. Although they were just some small points of light in the distant darkness, they were still extremely novel and even a bit shocking when he thought about them carefully.

"So, since this is not the universe, why did you make it dark?" Sherlock looked around and asked casually.

"Of course it's to make it easier for you to accept all this."

"." Sherlock tilted his head as if he heard wrongly: "Would you like to listen to what you are saying, and also think about how you look? You are a big man who is on fire now. The sea urchin has a big eyeball in the middle, and I am standing in the universe talking to you, and you use your tentacles hundreds of kilometers in diameter to light a cigarette for me, and you tell me that all this is to let me More acceptable?"

"Well" the voice in his head hesitated slightly: "Although it sounds a bit wrong, believe me, compared to the truth, this is easier to accept."

Sherlock listened to the other party's explanation, then took a puff of cigarette and was silent for a moment: "You know me."

"Yes, I knew that after telling you, you would be eager to see what this place really looks like."

"Of course, so hurry up."

Before he finished speaking, the surrounding darkness suddenly began to melt, like a ball of dark ink, sticky and faded away, and behind the ink, a room that didn't look very strange was revealed.

It was a very ordinary room with white walls and a not-too-bright light emitted from the embedded light bulb above the head. Sherlock found himself sitting on a chair, with a table in front of him that looked like metal. Opposite the table is a middle-aged man who is over 40 years old, wearing a pair of glasses and a suit that is not ugly. At this time, he is looking at Sherlock, and in his hand is An open file folder.

"Welcome to your ending." The middle-aged man in front of him said with a smile.

Sherlock did not respond to the other party, but looked at the surrounding walls with interest, then looked at his hands, and even touched the ordinary table and chair several times, and then slowly said: "What if According to what you said before, if you are actually just a brain fused with an artificial celestial body, then this scene should not be real, right?"

"It depends on how you define reality." The middle-aged man in front of him responded directly without thinking too much. Sherlock had a feeling that he had said this type of thing many times.

"Look, you are dead now. Logically speaking, there is no way you can sit here and use your breath to activate your vocal cords to make sounds to communicate with me. But in fact, you are really sitting here, and everything is happening. ”

Sherlock listened, thought for a while, and then nodded: "That's right. If the concept of [reality] is limited to physical interaction, it would be too one-sided."

Before he finished speaking, the middle-aged man in front of him seemed to let out a sigh of relief: "Thank God, you can really understand what I said. I thought I would have to explain to you for a long time."

"It sounds like you've explained this to others?"

"certainly."

"In other words, I'm not the first one here?"

"Of course not. You saw it just now. There are so many worlds. No matter how harsh the filtering conditions are, you can always find some amazing and talented people to come here. But you are the first one who doesn't need me to waste my time. Someone who explains this.”

"Yes." Sherlock nodded. He quite recognized the other party's evaluation of himself. If only the most talented and beautiful people are qualified to come here, then he must be one of them. However, apart from this, , there are still too many questions that need to be answered by the people in front of you.

For example.

What kind of place is this, the intersection of many worlds?

Listening to the meaning of the other party's words, the people who can come here are selected from many worlds, so why are these people selected, and what are these people selected for?

Similarly, if you are not the first person to come here, who are the people who were selected before, where are they, and can you meet them.

Oh, yes, and that sentence just now.

"What is [Welcome to my ending?]"

There were too many questions, so Sherlock could only pick one to ask at random.

"Oh, [Ending] means that what you wanted to do in your previous world has been completed. Generally, what I define as [Ending] is that you died, or one of your final wishes came true, or you You have despaired of the previous world, you are satisfied, you have nothing left to live for, it is no longer interesting to stay, you are standing at the pinnacle of a world beyond that level. In short, you do not need to return to the world you were in before. This type of situation It’s called [Ending].

Then you have reached the [Ending]. It just so happens that you are good enough, so you came here naturally. "

"Have I already [ended]?"

Sherlock looked at the cigarette butt in his hand that could not be burned, and thought thoughtfully. Although he easily understood the other party's explanation of the [Ending], he felt that what he had to do in the previous world It's not over yet, it's just that I unfortunately died.

When he thought of this, a lot of regrets arose in his heart. With the support of his paranoid character, he even seemed less concerned about the remaining questions that had not yet been answered.

"To be honest, I don't think I have any nostalgia for the previous world." Sherlock tried to pinch out the cigarette butt with his fingers, but the spark always rekindled: "I'm just dead. If possible, If so, I still want to live, there are still many things in my world waiting for me to get involved. "

"Well, it's a pity. Although everyone on our roster is very powerful, no one has the ability to bring people back to life."

"So there's nothing we can do?"

"Yeah, dead is dead, unless a miracle happens."

Unless a miracle happens, Shylock is a man who is good at creating miracles. This is clear to everyone who knows him.

But he is dead now, and it is impossible for a dead person to create miracles again.

In a huge deep pit on the edge of the Elbes Mountains, the old Lord Dante was still holding Sherlock's throat with both hands.

His fingertips were right on the opponent's artery, and his hands were interlocked, compressing the opponent's trachea to the extreme, not letting any air slip through.

It went on like this for a long time, until the old man could no longer feel the beating of the blood vessels on his fingertips, and the person in front of him could no longer breathe at all.

He finally took a deep breath and carefully let go of his hands.

He stood up, staggered to a piece of gravel nearby and sat down.

Sherlock died, another person who threatened the world was killed by himself, and the source of the messy evil that mixed up the world was crushed by himself, just like in the past.

Master Dante lowered his head, and his spine, which was as tall as a god just now, gradually curved.

At this break, the fatigue all over my body swept over me like a mountain.

He was too old. The contractor had extraordinary abilities, but it still could not extend his lifespan. Moreover, he had not exercised like this for decades. After this battle, he only felt his heart aching. As he breathed, his chest, throat, and even his brain felt acrid.

【Let’s take a rest】

Lord Dante thought this, then closed his eyes and allowed the weight of his head to bend the cars even further.

Just like that, he sat on a gravel in the mountains and fell into a deep sleep.

At the same time, amidst the loss of London, there is a sense of calm before the storm everywhere.

Last night, a large-scale conflict finally broke out between the defenders stationed on the outskirts of the city. A cannonball was intercepted at high altitude and flew towards the city. The remaining gunpowder turned a remote church into a sea of ​​flames. Although no one was killed, several nuns were seriously injured.

This shell seemed to be some kind of revelation. People fled back home in panic, and the shops on the street were naturally unopened. As if to cope with the situation, most vegetables and food were destroyed in just a few hours. Looted.

1pm, light rain.

Usually it is the time when the crowds are at their busiest, but at this time the streets were deserted.

In the drizzle, a man in a raincoat hurriedly ran across the long street, got into an alley, ignored the mud on the ground and wet the hem of his clothes, and knocked on the door of an inconspicuous bar deep in the alley.