235. His Arrogance
Although he had successfully participated in the case Watson was investigating, there hadn't been any significant progress.
His daily work remained the same: reading the newspaper, and... waiting for cases to come to him.
"Vampire Sighted on the Streets at Midnight? Heh, the recent news reports are getting more and more out of touch with reality."
Looking at the eye-catching headline, he couldn't help but scoff.
Below was a seemingly plausible picture: a person with two tiny bloody holes in their neck.
He knew at a glance that the picture was fake. Although the face was slightly pale, the lips had a hint of purple, which didn't fit the characteristics of death from 'excessive blood loss.' Instead, it looked more like the second case he had solved here, where the death appeared to be caused by snake venom.
A more detailed examination would definitely be needed, such as the depth of the holes and other symptoms in the body.
However, all of this was irrelevant to him now; after all, this was a case that couldn't be more trivial than it seemed to him at the moment.
His appetite had grown increasingly large; what he craved now were unsolved cases—bizarre and enigmatic, yet filled with twisted human nature.
Each case he solved yielded something new.
Whether it was a deeper reflection on human nature or a further refinement of his self-evaluation.
After all, this could serve as a record in his future autobiography, a form of extra income?
He had no intention of being a detective for life; it was too exhausting.
He couldn't be like Lestrade, working tirelessly on the front lines every day, only to have his take-home pay less than a fraction of what he earned from a single case.
He couldn't bring this up in front of Inspector Lestrade; it would only provoke his ire.
However, Inspector Lestrade had been quite busy lately. London was far from peaceful, with forgeries, robberies, and murders occurring one after another.
The criminals were cunning; once, even when surrounded by the police, they still managed to escape by sea.
The most absurd thing was a robbery. One night, a group of masked men broke into a bank, killed the security guard, and stole a large sum of cash.
When the police arrived, they arrested several accomplices, but unexpectedly, someone came forward to defend them in court. A couple of days later, these men were acquitted.
Clearly, this criminal gang had a powerful backer. According to Watson, this person was most likely Moriarty.
And Moriarty's actions were a challenge to Watson.
Hmm... Could it be a challenge to the great Sherlock Holmes instead?
He couldn't help but think.
However, he quickly dismissed the thought because Moriarty had written a letter and handed it to Watson.
"The game begins, our dear, great detective. You want to catch me? Well, I'll give you a chance. Come here..."
Followed by an address.
The letter was for Watson, and it didn't mention any arrogant person.
After glancing at the address, Watson led him to their destination without stopping.
It was a children's hospital, where two children had gone missing.
Watson knew perfectly well that this was a challenge Moriarty had given her, and even, fearing she wouldn't be able to find them, he had thoughtfully left clues.
"These candy wrappers... I remember they shouldn't be on the market yet, they're pending sale, so the child should be at the candy factory, but there are seven candy factories around, which one could it be..."
Watson immediately recognized the candy wrapper on the ground. It had been advertised in the newspaper, with a release date of tomorrow.
And its sudden appearance here meant the most likely location was the candy factory.
"It should be the one in the east of the city. Look here, there's a little bit of yellow mud on it, probably from a boot accidentally rubbing against it, and the candy factory in the east of the city happens to be located in a patch of yellow mud."
He used his fingers to peel off a small amount of still-wet yellow mud from the foot of the bed and quickly analyzed the location of the wrapper.
"Let's go now!" Watson nodded and immediately led him into the carriage, heading east of the city.
"Wait, everything's going too smoothly. There might be an ambush inside. Don't go in; wait for me outside," Watson instructed, seemingly remembering something.
"…" He remained silent, seemingly pondering whether to obey Watson.
"You promised me," Watson said seriously.
"Alright, I understand," he nodded, feeling that if he disobeyed, Watson would knock him unconscious.
Watson nodded in satisfaction.
Soon, the two arrived at the candy factory. Watson dashed inside, her speed leaving the carriage far behind.
He could only wait anxiously outside.
The agonizing feeling of being so close to the culprit made him uneasy; he even started scratching his head and sideburns.
"Sir, you seem to be a detective too! Oh! I remember now, you must be the recently famous Mr. Sherlock?"
The coachman observed his appearance, then suddenly looked surprised.
He looked at the coachman, who was gazing at him with admiration.
However, at this moment, he frowned and reached for his cane.
"As expected of someone who can work alongside her, you noticed something amiss instantly?" The coachman gave a strange smile.
"Coachmen often wear hats to shield themselves from the sun, so their faces always have a rather noticeable dividing line. And your boots are too new; a coachman wouldn't wear something like that to drive a carriage. Am I right, Mr. Moriarty?"
He immediately calmed down, analyzing the inconsistencies in the other man's appearance.
In their haste, they had subconsciously forgotten to observe the coachman before them.
Moriarty had planned everything, waiting outside for their arrival.
"Not bad, not bad, you do have some skill, but unfortunately, your value doesn't lie in your detective abilities." Moriarty applauded him leisurely.
"What do you mean?" he asked, somewhat confused.
"You know, to break someone down, you just need to put them in a dilemma, forcing them to make a choice and bear the consequences of another."
Moriarty's lips curled slightly, his face beaming with delight.
"You think you can use me to threaten Watson? You're overthinking it." He narrowed his eyes. Although Watson usually handled the guard duties, it didn't mean he was a pushover.
He was not only proficient in Patton techniques, but also skilled in boxing, swordsmanship, and even carried a pistol in his pocket!
Under these circumstances, how could Moriarty possibly capture him easily...?
His body convulsed, then he lost consciousness.
"Sigh, just as arrogant as everyone says." Moriarty put away his stun gun, flicked his whip, and rode away.
....