Chapter 50 Edward Moriarty
The flames in the fireplace crackled, and Sherlock, who had simply covered himself with a thick woolen coat, slowly opened his eyes.
His brown, almost amber pupils slowly focused and became sharper.
With a deep and labored inhale, Sherlock struggled to sit up from the rocking chair with a creak.
He got up and used the chemical instrument on the table, and with trembling hands, he boiled a cup of water for himself. When it was only about 30 or 40 degrees Celsius, just enough to get rid of the winter morning chill, he added three full spoonfuls of honey.
After drinking it all, he closed his eyes silently and stood there with his back straight.
He seemed to be savoring the taste of the honey water, and also seemed to be quickly recovering his strength.
After a long while, he slowly opened his eyes. The always calm Sherlock Hermes had finally returned.
“Why am I third?”
He murmured softly, "Besides Bone Sculptor, who else has higher points than me? Fox, or Coco?"
After thinking for a while, I kept this doubt in mind.
He immediately began to think about another thing:
"In that scene just now, who did that pale, withered hand belong to? And who was that fat man?
"The visions displayed at the end of the game are all important scenes related to the mission. They are arranged in the order in which the events occurred. 'Fox's' suicide sealed our victory, and that happened afterward...
"Is that fat man the murderer? In that case, who does that white hand belong to?"
There are only two possible people.
It could be either the bone sculpture or Coco. It could be either of them… their faces are not shown in the picture.
But considering that "Fox" has two screens, his points are likely to be higher than Sherlock. If Coco is included, there won't be enough space.
That means the person who gets the most points for the "Kill the Murderer" mission is most likely the Bone Sculptor.
——What a dangerous person.
He can kill a demon scholar of the second energy level with the first energy level... His other path is probably at a very high level.
"Lars Graham..."
Sherlock muttered softly, pulling out a file from the cabinet behind him.
His room was poorly lit, cramped, and poorly ventilated. The air was thick with the smell of chemicals mixed with dust. Ritual materials, books, and various files were scattered across the shelves and tables.
Even though it looked messy, he actually knew where all the different things were placed. At least he could always find them easily.
He pulled out the file, walked to the window, squinted his eyes and read it carefully.
"Born on February 29, 1824... 74 years old."
Iris Man was born in the small town of Higwell. His father was a baker and his mother was a seamstress.
"I began studying sculpture with Master Albert Adelaide at the age of 14, and embarked on the path of beauty at the age of 18. When Master AA passed away at the age of 23, I was recommended to study at the University of the West. At the age of 28, he was hired as a tutor by the University of the West.
"I held my first sculpture exhibition at the age of 34, was called a master at the age of 38, and became the vice president of the School of Art at the University of the West at the age of 46..."
Sherlock muttered quietly, quickly reviewing the information at hand.
Then, his eyes focused on the middle of the third page:
“…In 1893, he was invited to Avalon to carve a statue of Queen Sophia. This work was completed in February 1896.
"…In 1895, he became a specially appointed professor of art at the Theological Seminary of the Royal Law University, teaching 'General Aesthetics'. He left this position in June 1898."
Five years ago, he traveled from Iris to Avalon to carve an image for the queen, who had a premonition of her impending death. This was his last work.
Three years ago... before the icon was finished, he started teaching aesthetics at the seminary. And he taught for only three years.
Even though the scene was only a fleeting one.
But Sherlock saw clearly that the white girl ghost was wearing the seminary uniform.
"……interesting."
Although there is still some missing person verification left, it is now almost certain.
This person is very difficult to deal with. As an international public figure, and a foreigner... convicting him requires conclusive evidence. And the only possible punishment is probably deportation.
But if we can verify that he has embarked on the path of twilight, perhaps it will be much easier to deal with.
"The bone sculpture can't be moved for the time being, fox..."
Sherlock murmured softly, "Who are you?"
There is no rush to write a report to Her Majesty.
He would first verify the information provided by the fox, and then judge the fox's position based on the results.
Sherlock thought for a while, then sat down at his desk to write and draw. It was a map of Lloyd's Quarter, and he was calculating the location of the abandoned chemical plant.
Then, Sherlock suddenly picked up the phone on the table and turned the heavy dial with one hand.
The phone rang only twice before being picked up immediately.
"Morning, Edward."
So Sherlock clamped the microphone at his neck and continued to scribble on the map, speaking very quickly: "My dear fellow, I hope you are awake - I mean, not awakened by me, but awakened naturally. Yes, I have something to ask you - yes, it is very troublesome. So I need your help, very urgently. Please come to me at once, I can give you breakfast at the place of your choice.
"—Yes, in Lloyd's. It's called the 'Sweater Brotherhood,' do you remember it?"
Right now.
Red Queen District, Inspectorate Office.
Chief Inspector Edward Moriarty was answering the phone with his white-gloved left hand.
He had short, pure black hair combed neatly back, and his slightly angular face was framed by deep, dark eyes.
Compared to his brothers and sisters, Edward's appearance was much more ordinary. He had slightly high cheekbones and a square face, which gave him an awe-inspiring and righteous look.
He leaned back in his seat, dressed in the Inspector's signature black, mourning-like suit. His physique was so robust that he easily filled out the suit. His thick coat reached only to his waist, and he wore slim-fitting black trousers and black leather shoes. In his breast pocket lay the corner of a white handkerchief. His left hand was covered in a white glove, while his right was bare. His knuckles and bones were remarkably distinct, lending him a sense of strength.
Edward looked unhappy, but he didn't hang up the phone.
After all, this was his best friend, his classmate…his most reliable old partner.
Chief Inspector Moriarty's ungloved right hand slowly touched the paper.
There was a long list of names on it - that meant "to be inspected".
"Sweater Brotherhood..."
Edward murmured softly, squinting his eyes as he recalled, "I've heard of this name, but I don't have a deep impression of it."
His voice is low and magnetic, giving people a sense of reliability and calmness.
"That's probably a gang of stranglers. They got that name because when they were poor, they relied on the current leader's mother for help, and she knitted them all a set of sweaters with a similar pattern. Later, when they formed a gang, they used the sweater as the name of their organization.
"Why, did they offend you? Or do you want to bribe them to do things for you?"
"—According to reliable intelligence, they may be related to the mastermind behind the Pelican Bar. And I have obtained information about their gathering place."
Sherlock's distorted voice came from the other end of the phone: "So I invite you to join me in this investigation. I do have some concerns. If this information is true, then there are indeed dangerous factors that could put me to death."
Hearing this, Edward frowned slightly.
Under his black pupils, there was a dazzling silver-white light that gradually gathered and shone.
"really?"
Edward said in a deep voice: "You know who is behind them."
"Sixty percent. After all, I haven't had time to verify it yet." Sherlock replied.
"Your 60% is already high, Hermes. I believe you."
"Then meet at my house, Inspector General. Bring your sidearm and white gloves."
"Okay, see you later."
Edward said this decisively and hung up the phone.
He put a beautiful white pistol on his waist and hung two elven-style silver short swords on it.
Then Edward took out the white whistle necklace from his collar and blew it hard.
The white whistle did not make any sound, but after a while, the sound of a griffin flapping its wings could be heard outside the floor-to-ceiling window.
He opened the window and let his black griffin mount in to eat something first.
After eating, he prepared to ride the griffin to Sherlock's house.
At this moment, there was a knock on his office door.
"—Report to Deputy Minister Assad."
Edward said in a cold voice: "Go to Madam Red for material approval. I have to go out for a while."
"It's me, Edward."
The soft, gentle voice of his adoptive father, James Moriarty, came from the door.
Edward raised his eyebrows, and his stern and cold face, like an iceberg, relaxed slightly.
He immediately went over and opened the door.
Because he was much taller than his adoptive father, he bowed slightly and spoke in a gentle tone, "Father, what's the matter? Why are you here to see me so early?"
"You're going out?"
The polite old gentleman glanced at the griffin eating in the room, adjusted the brim of his hat, and gently joked, "It just so happens that I also have to go on a long trip at the last minute."
"Far away? How far?"
"I'm going to the Theocracy. I was thinking of having Oswald go in my place, but on second thought, I'd better go on my own for such an important matter. I'll be back in about two weeks. Take good care of your brother and sister in the meantime."
Old James said gently, "Oh, by the way. Aiwass is going back to school. Remember to make arrangements."
"No problem, Father."
The silent and stern young man nodded slightly: "I will go home and live for the time being to protect Aiwass and Yulia's safety."
"Well, that's good. Glass Island is going to be in chaos... One more thing," Old James added slowly, "Closing up the Pelican Bar incident and clearing up the clues. This matter ends here. If anyone else wants to continue the investigation, let them be quiet."
"……yes."
"Oh, right."
Old James suddenly asked, "Hasn't the letter I asked you to find been found yet?"
"Yes, indeed."
Edward replied, "Body Number Two is missing a lot of things that should have been there. Even her 'Noble Crimson' is missing."
"Then Aiwass should be taken away together."
Old James said gently, "After all, Veronica's 'Noble Red' is also in your brother's hands. In that case, don't look for the letter anymore."
"Father," Edward couldn't help but ask, "Which minister is in contact with the society... Can you tell me? If I don't know anything, I can't protect Aiwass."
"Shh..."
Old James smiled and put his finger in front of his mouth.
Edward immediately quieted down.
The old man said slowly, "If Aiwass is in danger because of his righteousness and curiosity, then let him solve it himself. Just last night, I detected the aura of the dream world. Aiwass began his first advancement ritual... The child is finally starting to have some secrets of his own. I am very satisfied."
He narrowed his somewhat cloudy gray eyes and said gently, "As for the spy issue, I advise you to stay in the dark. Secrets are a kind of power. But in your hands, secrets cannot become sharp weapons; they will only become shackles on your mind."
"Father……"
"—almost. Edward, almost. I will give all this to you sooner or later... but not now."
"...So what now? What should I do now?"
Edward was silent for a moment, then added, "Except for the finishing touches on the Pelican Bar..."
"Now you should do what you wanted to do before. Aren't you going out?"
The old man, who would never get angry, narrowed his eyes, patted the tall Edward on the shoulder, and said with a kind smile, "But remember to eat something. Skipping breakfast is bad for your stomach."
(End of this chapter)
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