[Comprehensive Classics] Detective Mary

Sherlock Holmes personally drew the appearance of the altar when it existed. With the help of the painting, Mary had a basic concept of it: wide and gloomy, it is not a building that should appear in the London underground waterway.

But now, what is presented in front of Mary is a piece of ruined ruins.

All the pillars were smashed, the walls caved in, and even the ceiling—that is, the floor of the London street—was dented in one piece.The sun shines in along the ground, and the street is noisy and lively.Inspector Lestrade immediately stepped on the broken wall and stepped up to the ground. Hearing the movement underground, it didn't take long for several people in police uniforms to walk up to the ground.

"Lestrade?"

It seemed to be another detective who came, he was very surprised: "Why are you underground, where did you come from?"

Lestrade: "Damn it!"

He turned his head to look at Holmes, seeing that the latter looked indifferent, he had no choice but to explain: "We came from a sewer entrance in the Whitechapel block, where is this? When did the ground collapse?"

The other detective was very inexplicable. He seemed to want to ask Lestrade what he was doing in the sewers of the slums. I suppressed my curiosity and responded, "It's not far from the Whitechapel neighborhood. People nearby said that the ground shook at three o'clock in the morning, and the street collapsed after four o'clock. They thought it was an earthquake. Fortunately, it was still dark when the incident happened, and the location of the collapse was not a residential building but a street."

Lestrade: "Is the road closed?"

Another detective rolled his eyes: "You'd better come up to see the collapse. Even if I don't close the road, can there still be a carriage across the five-meter-wide pothole?"

"I really can't tell you."

Inspector Lestrade walked out of the collapsed hole directly, and he didn't even care whether the police detectives on the ground were his own or not, and directly called them to lead the blockade: "The road closure is to prevent people from sneaking in here. Important crime scene!"

"What? What the hell happened down there?"

Mary looked at Holmes helplessly: "If someone wants to sneak in here, the police won't be able to stop them. They can come through the underground waterway."

Holmes: "Henry Deckard alone could not destroy the whole altar. If so, then he must have used explosives."

That is natural.

Henry Deckard was alone, and he had only two hands.If there were no explosives, where would he have the ability to smash walls and stone pillars?Another inspector said that nearby residents felt earthquake-like vibrations in the middle of the night, which proved that the altar collapsed after being hit hard.

It's just that it's too late to say anything now.

Even if there were traces of Henry Deckard's presence in the altar, it had been completely covered up under the ruins.It is not easy to find accurate evidence from the ruins.

"What to do, sir?"

Mary asked, "Our leads are broken again."

Holmes: "Don't jump to conclusions too soon."

As he spoke, he beckoned to a young police officer beside him, asking him to provide Mary with a pair of white gloves: "Let's see what else we can find useful."

Holmes, who entered the working state, did not say a word of nonsense. The first step in cleaning up the scene was to look for traces of gunpowder.

It was not difficult. After Holmes asked the police detectives a few words, they quickly found clues on the broken stone pillars.

"Mr. Holmes!"

A police detective raised his voice and shouted: "Here, there are indeed traces of gunpowder."

"what!"

Holmes raised the corner of his mouth: "That would be great."

He strode forward and found the broken stones with traces of gunpowder.The detective picked up the blackened gravel and sniffed it lightly: "This is a load-bearing stone pillar. It collapsed and caused the ground to subside."

The detective raised his head and looked at the ruins that were beyond recognition compared to the sketch of the altar he had drawn with his own hands.

"Now that the load-bearing pillars have been found," he said, "we can now know the original shape and location of the altar."

With the reference, in the eyes of Sherlock Holmes, the broken walls already have the basis to restore the original appearance.Regardless of the dirty and muddy ground, the detective in a black coat knelt on one knee, his light-colored eyes quickly scanning back and forth between the underground halls.

He thought for a long time, until Inspector Lestrade finished his negotiation with the police on the ground and walked down again: "Holmes, what are you doing?"

Holmes: "The Hall of Recovery."

Saying that, he stood up.

The thin gentleman was still walking briskly on the gravel ground, and his overcoat was already stained with mud and water, but Holmes didn't care at all.

He walked to a collapsed ceiling and stepped on the stones with his feet: "From here, to a distance of three meters, remove all the stones. This is the position where the triangular frame is drawn in the center of the altar. Go forward and count backwards." Ten meters is the outline of the hall."

Lestrade: "Wait, before you put my men to work, at least tell me, what's the use of us moving these stones?"

Mary: "Are these fallen walls?"

Holmes: "What?"

Mary, who had been observing the edge of the ruins, suddenly bent down and looked at a huge stone slab next to her.

Looking through the gaps in the collapsed wall, Mary could faintly see some fine grooves.But the light underground was too dark for her to see clearly.

Mary put on her gloves and touched around the edge of the stone slab. There was also completely dried mucus on it. From the naked eye, it was exactly the same as what Henry Deckard found on the wall.

So Mary stretched out her right hand towards Holmes: "Look, sir."

Holmes and Lestrade stepped forward together and saw the same trace.Lestrade immediately called to two police officers: "Lift up the slate."

The two youths tried their best to lift the huge stone slab, and with a loud bang, the stone slab was turned on the ground, and Mary finally saw the lines on the wall clearly.

It is similar to what Mr. Holmes drew, but seeing it with your own eyes is much clearer and more detailed than hand-painting.

To be precise, it is not a groove, it is smaller and denser than a groove, and it is more like a hole with an irregular shape and a shallow depression.The stone slab in front of Mary was as tall as half a person, and such holes were densely distributed throughout the entire stone slab.

At first glance, Mary felt indescribably disgusted.

"It's disgusting," Inspector Lestrade couldn't help complaining. "Is this man-made? Or is it the result of damp and water damage?"

"If it's water damage, we've walked all the way, the walls should be corroded," Mary said, reaching out and touching the uneven wall, scraping off a piece of dried mucus, "It's strange, what is this? What--"

Holmes also noticed something unusual.

"do not move!"

The detective's voice sounded from behind, and Mary froze suddenly.

"What's the matter?" Mary turned her head sideways, "did I bump into something I shouldn't have touched?"

"On your glove."

Holmes bent down, and he stretched out his hand to hold the back of Mary's hand, and only made real contact with her after getting her approval.

The white gloves were separated by white gloves, but Mary could still feel Holmes' knuckles curled up on the back of her hand, and she could hardly feel any pressure in the moist and sticky air.

His movements were light, almost cautious.Holmes held Mary's palm in one hand, and with the other hand, he took out a short white strip from between her fingers.

"What is this?" Mary was a little surprised.

Holmes turned and looked at the light for a moment, then handed it to Mary.

The white streak was about the length of a knuckle and had completely lost its moisture just like the mucus.With a little force from Mary, it turned into powder like brittle paper.

Mary was taken aback: "What's going on?!"

Holmes: "Never mind."

As he said that, he also squatted down, and pointed to the corner where the stone slab meets the ground. Under the crushed stone, there were still a lot of formed or shapeless white powder.

Upon seeing this, Inspector Lestrade immediately stopped thinking about complaining about Holmes.He simply stopped asking about the use of restoring the scene: "...I'll go up and ask someone to clean up the scene."

"What the hell is this?" Mary was a little confused.

"Dehydrated reptile carcass."

"..."

"Why?" Holmes raised his eyebrows.

Mary threw the powder expressionlessly, took off her white gloves and threw it a foot away: "It's nothing."

If she said it was a bug corpse, she wouldn't mess with it, okay? !

She wasn't particularly afraid of bugs, as she speculated earlier that it might be the slime left by snails or slugs, or other molluscs, and Mary didn't say much about it.But... Judging from the white powder between the broken stones and the number of dehydrated bugs at the site, the whole place is full of bugs!

"That……"

Mary took a deep breath: "These traces on the wall, could they be left behind by reptiles?"

Holmes: "From this point of view, the wall on the altar should have become the nest of these reptiles, otherwise such dense traces would not have been left."

That is to say, before Henry Deckard and others blew up the altar, the last scene they saw was like the scene of uncovering bee and ant nests, and countless reptiles were densely packed on the wall.

Thinking of that scene, Mary's scalp couldn't stop numb.

"These bugs," Mary said with difficulty, "could it be related to the madness of Henry and Sykes?"

Holmes was silent.

He squatted on the spot and thought for a moment, then directly reached into the gap between the stone slabs, and grabbed a relatively complete reptile corpse.

Mary: "..."

She watched helplessly as the detective took out a small clean paper bag from his pocket and put the bug body in it.After confirming that the dehydrated specimen would not be crushed, he gently put it back into his pocket.

This one-stop action, this perfect and complete preparation, looked at Mary and it was amazing.

"Isn't it the first time you have stolen evidence from a crime scene?" Mary asked in a low voice, "Won't Inspector Lestrade be angry?"

"You mean angry."

Holmes said solemnly: "Did he complain casually, or did he rush into my apartment with the police to sweep up the evidence?"

Mary: "..."

Seeing her stunned expression, the always indifferent detective frowned, and a smile appeared on his handsome face.

"Please rest assured, Miss Mary," he said quite proudly, "If Lestrade were someone who prevented me from pursuing the truth because of trivial matters, I wouldn't have cooperated with him for so long."

This is.

Although Mary still felt that stealing evidence was such a thing, only Inspector Lestrade could tolerate Holmes doing this.

"Let's go," the detective stood up. He turned to look at Lestrade who was walking down. "We are going back, Lestrade! Please tell Watson when you are finished."

"Aren't you going with Dr. Watson?" asked Mary.

"Morstan needs comfort," Holmes said, taking off his white gloves. "This is Watson's chance."

Ok.

After hearing Mr. Holmes' words, Mary's hanging heart was completely relieved.

Disgusting is disgusting, but Sherlock Holmes still cares about his friends.He accused Dr. Watson of "being dazzled by love", but at critical moments, he was still willing to create opportunities for him to be alone with Miss Morstan.

Especially at this time...

Recalling Henry Deckard's death, Mary, who was originally relaxed, suddenly stopped laughing.

Scratching his belly with bare hands and crushing his internal organs, what kind of madness did he fall into?According to Morstan's narration, it was clear that Henry Deckard was the insider who had the clues, but Mary didn't understand, what kind of secret could be more important than her own life?

And death is death, or this terrible way of death.

She went back to 221b Baker Street with Holmes worried.

After entering the apartment, before the two of them had time to stand still, Mrs. Hudson walked into the living room upon hearing the commotion, and scolded Holmes without raising her head: "How did you get yourself so dirty, take off your coat quickly! It's true, I left early in the morning and didn't say anything... Oh, Miss Mary."

Seeing Mrs. Hudson scolding people like a mother, Mary's mood shifted from death to reality.She reluctantly pursed her lips: "Mrs. Hudson."

Mrs. Hudson: "Where's Watson?"

Holmes sat down on the sofa: "There has been a murder in the Whitechapel neighborhood, and he is accompanying Miss Morstan."

Mrs. Hudson: "So you brought Miss Mary back?"

Holmes: "Of course, someone must assist me in my investigation."

Mrs. Hudson: "That would be wonderful."

The old lady showed a teasing look, and the look of disgust just now was swept away, replaced by a satisfied smile.She looked Mary up and down for a while, then nodded desperately: "I'll make tea, you two need to have a good discussion."

Mary: "..."

I always feel that Mrs. Hudson has misunderstood something!

But Holmes didn't care about that much.

As soon as Mrs. Hudson left, he immediately stood up from the sofa, took out the paper bag in which the reptile corpses would be stored, and carefully poured the powder and the remaining corpses into a glass bottle.

Then, Holmes sat down in front of the experiment table and took out the notebook from his pocket.

Mary shuddered and walked forward.

"What's written in it?" she asked.

Holmes didn't speak, but directly spread the notebook on the table.

The entire notebook is the size of a palm, and the cover is so worn that it almost shines. It can be seen at a glance that it is usually carried by Henry Deckard and has been used for a long time.But when Holmes quickly flipped through the inner pages, the two immediately discovered that the victim hadn't written much in it. In the [-]-page notebook, there were only a few dozen pages with written content.

Holmes turned the notebook to the first page, on which was a carefully drawn totem of the Illuminati.

Staring at the eyes in the triangular frame, Mary instinctively stopped breathing.

"I think," she began in a low voice, "this is enough to prove that Sikes' death, and the abuse of the Devil's Heel, had something to do with the Illuminati. It's just..."

"only?"

"I don't understand," Mary asked, "Sir Blackwood keeps saying that the Illuminati is an alliance of outstanding people in various fields and an organization of high society, so what does Henry Deck and Sikes have to do with them?"

Holmes looked up at Mary and said, "You have already guessed."

Yes.

Mary closed her eyes and didn't say much.

The more this kind of so-called "elite" organization, the easier it is not to treat the lower working people as living people.Especially if the Illuminati's research involves religion, religion always needs believers. Poor people with little knowledge and poor food and clothing are more likely to become fanatics than gentlemen and ladies in high society.

With Sykes and Henry Deck, it is enough to prove that in the Whitechapel neighborhood, in other slums, perhaps even far beyond London, there are more poor people who, like them, choose to believe in the eyes in this triangular frame .

Mary did not speak out what was on her mind. She looked back at Holmes quietly, and her eyes met. The latter immediately understood her subtext.

"Thomasstein will have to ask," he said, "if there is anyone in the working class, especially, who is in the same position as Henry Deckard."

Mary nodded.

"What else is in the notebook?" she asked.

Holmes flipped back, and the contents on several pages confirmed their guess: the second page showed the interior architectural pattern with extremely poor drawing skills, through the huge triangular frame on the ground, and the densely packed "" The spot" was enough for the two of them to conclude that it was the altar in the sewer.

So Henry Deckard did go to the altar.

Then came all the gossip, most of which were records of Henry's own illogical nightmares, and some of his fearful inner thoughts.Mary glanced at the time, which was recorded not long after he was first discovered poisoned by Mr. Holmes.In retrospect, Dawson and Miss Morstan also said at that time that Henry's mental state was not very good for a long time after he woke up, and he kept having nightmares.

So...were there any signs at that time?

It's just that they were all focused on tracking down Professor James Moriarty, and they didn't expect such a mysterious incident to be hidden behind the madness of an Irish worker.

Holmes turned back again, and finally came upon something they had never seen before.

When Mary saw the pattern drawn in the notebook, she felt a chill from her tailbone to the top of her head, just like when she realized that the walls of the altar might be traces left by countless reptiles, it made her scalp numb.

"This is……"

Eyes, all eyes.

The small eyes, drawn with a few simple strokes, spanned two full pages of the notebook, huddled together like the traces on the wall.Not to mention Mary, even Sherlock Holmes couldn't help frowning when he saw such a scene.

He turned directly to the next page, but his eyes were still full of paper.

Not just the eyes, but all the eyes seem to come to life on this page under Henry Deckard's crude brushwork.He barely framed those eyes with a pencil, and drew them into a... living thing with countless tentacles, countless bodies, and eyes all over the body.

Henry Deckard, above all the eyes, scribbled a sentence, almost shapelessly, in ink.

"What exactly is this?"

——It seems that this is what Henry Deckard saw in his hallucination.

Mary just felt her heart beat faster.

Aside from the paper-filled eyes, just looking at the outline drawn with a pencil, she almost immediately thought of the creatures under the microscope printed on the textbooks in the biology class before time travel.

It's just that Mary's biology is not very good, she can't think of any microbes that can be related to the eyes.So she thought about it, and finally changed to a more popular term.

"Did he draw a... bug?"

After the words fell to the ground, Mary and Holmes looked at the dead reptile almost at the same time.

Sherlock Holmes closed his notebook.

"Could it be totemism," Mary speculated, "worship of the eyes, or something related to the eyes?"

"I need to find out what kind of reptile this is."

While speaking, Holmes folded his palms together in a classic contemplative gesture.

Mary was in no hurry to disturb him.

After a short wait, Mrs. Hudson came in with a teapot and cups.She didn't know what kind of horrible case the two of them were investigating. When Mrs. Hudson entered the door, she saw a pair of gentlemen and ladies, who were sitting beside the laboratory table at the same time.

What a couple!

Mrs. Hudson smiled kindly.

"Have a cup of tea before thinking about the case," she said. "The clues are there, and they won't go away in vain."

Mrs. Hudson is probably the only one in the world who dares to disturb Sherlock Holmes's thinking, and she will not attract any complaints and blame.

Holmes didn't say a word. He just picked up his teacup, and then said rather unhappily: "If I had known today, I should have agreed to Sir Blackwood's invitation to join the Illuminati."

Mary: "... you said this..."

Holmes: "What's the problem?"

Mary: "Yes."

Mary had been thinking for a while after returning from Mr. Brownlow's house.

"Since the Illuminati has never concealed its existence and recruited people everywhere," she said, "why hasn't it attracted the attention of others? Sir Blackwood even considered me."

Holmes' hand holding the teacup suddenly stopped.

He turned to look at Mary in surprise: "Blackwood invited you to join?"

Recalling the scene that day, Mary suddenly felt that her embarrassment phobia was about to attack.She cleared her throat with difficulty, and said hesitantly, "I was invited by him to visit little Oliver at Mr. Brownlow's mansion. On the way back...he proposed to me."