Chapter 16

16. "It all went wrong right from the start"

I didn't know what to call this case, either.

"The Workhouse Explosion Case"?

Or should I highlight Rhodes as the key figure?

After all, without Rhodes as a lead, it would have been hard to work straight through to the end of the case. I also believed there were other ways to solve it. But untangling the whole series of cases in just three days would not have been so simple.

By the time I returned to 221B Apartment, it was dinner time.

So I told Watson the case was solved.

I was looking forward to him having more material to write about. He could put the whole process on his blog, and I could use his account to review the case, clarify how this world's Sherlock investigated cases, and understand how the police behaved. His personal perspective could fill in information I didn't know.

For example, I really had no idea that the homeless man Rhodes existed.

Let me add that reviewing cases was just a habit of mine. I had no other intentions.

I had experience competing in chess, and I habitually reviewed each game afterward, both to learn and improve and to avoid making the same mistakes next time. Reviewing games was also crucial for a player to control their emotions and stay calm.

I had to admit that, when I first came to London, I had been far too rash and made far too many assumptions.

That was one reason Sherlock Holmes had set his sights on me.

I would go into that later.

After hearing me out, Watson said it was a shame he had gone to a job interview and missed the whole investigation. I was about to give him more details so he could feel involved, but Watson quickly changed the subject. "Now that the case is solved, Sherlock seems to be in a very good mood."

I stopped talking at once and instinctively looked over at Sherlock.

I couldn't remember whether he stayed in high spirits after solving a case. As I recalled, Sherlock seemed to enjoy the process more. With that in mind, my first thought was that it was because Sherlock knew I had received my MRI and CT scan results.

Sherlock hardly spoke at the dinner table, either.

Only when necessary would he chime in with something startling or incisive.

He had simply been listening to the two of us talk. When Watson drew him into the conversation, Sherlock, the English gentleman, set down his knife and fork, unfolded the napkin beside him, and wiped the corners of his mouth.

If there had been scrolling comments at that moment, they would surely have said, "Elegant. So very elegant!"

A quick aside here.

It was about chatting with Watson.

Although I had been quite eager to talk to Watson these past few times, I was usually the type who didn't talk much and had no desire to express myself.

But I also knew communication was necessary, so when the occasion called for it, I showed my sociable side to fit into the group.

Perhaps because of that, many people's first impression of me was that I was gentle, positive, and willing to chat. Only after spending more time with me did they discover that I didn't enjoy socializing and automatically spoke less in a more familiar social circle.

Someone I knew said I had an ISTJ personality.

On first meeting someone,

I would maintain a basic level of sociability.

As time went on, I would focus more on practical matters and tangible benefits.

I didn't know whether that was accurate, though.

In any case, if I hadn't needed to tell Watson about the case, I wouldn't have been particularly inclined to start a conversation.

I had always felt that Watson was a very important participant in the Sherlock Holmes stories.

If he hadn't been there for the whole thing, I had an obligation to explain it to him.

That might also have stemmed from my preconceptions about "Watson."

Preconceptions were certainly hard to change, but I had to watch what I said and did.

Back at the dinner table.

Hearing Watson's remark, Sherlock's lips curved upward in a gentle, subtle smile. "I am in a good mood. I do find it very pleasing when things go the way I want."

"...?"

I had a feeling there was something behind his words, but I didn't dare spell it out.

Have you set your sights on my brain?

I thought Sherlock was done and felt a little relieved. Then he turned to me and said, "Speaking of which, I've noticed something very interesting?"

It was clearly a statement, but Sherlock made it sound like a question.

That only made it clearer that Sherlock was in a very good mood.

Most frightening of all, why did he have to look at my face when he said it?

Sherlock said with interest, "I've noticed that whenever I'm in a good mood, I always catch Lanny looking at me."

"..."

If you had watched wildlife documentaries, you had probably seen a scene like this.

The moment people encountered a wild animal outdoors, they instinctively fixed their eyes on the beast.

That eye contact made it easier for them to notice changes in the animal's behavior, giving them more time to react before it attacked.

Simply put, it was an instinctive precaution for self-defense.

Folks, can any of you understand?!

Watson's smile turned innocent and bright. "Really?"

"..."

How was I supposed to answer that?

Watson went on, "I actually rather like that about Lanny. Enjoying the sight of people looking happy reflects Lanny's positive feelings toward others and capacity for empathy, doesn't it? I always feel that Lanny's world must be fulfilling and beautiful."

As soon as he said that, only one thought remained in my head.

Watson, are you an angel?

But then I suddenly remembered that Watson had been a frontline military doctor through and through. He was certainly not some naive fool. I thought it was more likely that he was seeing me through rose-colored glasses, which was why he said that.

Sherlock neither replied nor engaged with the subject.

Clearly, he didn't see it that way.

Our conversation ended soon afterward.

Mrs. Hudson, who had finished dinner early because she didn't want to hear about the case at all, checked the time and meant to come back to wash the dishes. When she found that we had been eating for so long and still weren't finished, she urged us to hurry up and eat, putting an end to our conversation.

"How is God supposed to save you children? Sherlock spends all day focused on cases, and now even Watson and Lanny have picked up his bad habits."

Mrs. Hudson tried to put on a stern expression and scold

Sherlock, but she clearly failed.

Because we instinctively exchanged glances.

After the three of us exchanged glances, we laughed too.

Honestly, I didn't know what was so funny.

Maybe it was Mrs. Hudson's exasperated tone.

Maybe it was because all three of us had done the same thing at the same time.

Or maybe it was something else.

That strange little moment of being in sync was magical.

So magical that it seemed as though we had known one another for a long time.

But that wasn't really the case. We weren't that close yet.

Watson had returned from the battlefield and still had his heart closed off. I was an out-of-place traveler from another world, still wary of Sherlock, while Sherlock, an island unto himself, was certainly not the warmhearted type.

I was an outsider, but also a participant.

Just because I didn't say it outright didn't mean I wasn't aware of it.

You could say that, of the three of us, I understood our current situations best.

And somehow, at that moment, the three of us, none of whom had ever truly opened our hearts to one another, found ourselves on the same wavelength.

That was what made it feel so special and magical to me.

As it turned out, that moment of understanding was just a coincidence.

Yet in a future none of us knew about, that small moment of understanding became the foundation of our bond and carried us a long, long way.

None of us had expected that.

Late at night, all was quiet.

I sat alone at the head of my bed, browsing the comic forum on my phone.

I had actually tested it during this time and confirmed that nobody else could see the comic forum. To them, my knowledge of them might have become a mystery that would never be solved. I had looked through the comic plenty over the past few days, but it still hadn't updated.

At one point, I had thought the comic forum might become an important tool for avoiding danger.

Just as I had avoided danger at the Workhouse the first time, but the second incident, when I drowned, completely overturned that conclusion.

I hadn't foreseen that I might drown.

If Sherlock hadn't gone into the water to save me, who would have saved me?

How much longer could I have held on?

Those were all questions.

So what was the forum really useful for?

As I was thinking, the forum's homepage displayed a comic update in large letters.

I hurriedly opened the comic.

This was clearly a full story update. The slider for navigating through it had become very thin and small.

The scrolling comments were as lively as a festival.

[Comic announcement: "Holmes Parallel Universe" has officially begun serialization! More exciting Holmes stories are waiting for you to discover!]

[Flowers, flowers!]

[Paw print]

[Front row~~]

[What does that mean? Can someone explain? Are multiple versions of Holmes going to appear in one comic and solve cases together? Like Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse? Will there be a female Holmes, a Black Holmes, and an anime Holmes?]

[Even ten Detective Conan worlds wouldn't have enough cases for them to solve, would they?]

[I heard they're picking characters from different Holmes worlds and mixing them together. For example, the Sherlock in the preview was the BBC Sherlock, but Moriarty might not be the BBC version. He could be a Moriarty from another Holmes world.]

[Aw, I really like the BBC Moriarty. A lot of people criticize the characters in Sherlock for being different from the originals, but this version is actually my favorite. I hope the whole cast is here.]

[I'm fine with anything, as long as there's content to enjoy!]

[Who's going to show up?! I'm so curious!]

The comic began amid the lively discussion in the scrolling comments.

It wasn't yet fully light, and pedestrians walked through the streets of London in twos and threes. In one corner of the frame was a young homeless man sitting by the roadside, along with a dark figure lying on the ground like a rag in human form.

Even with a magnifying glass, I couldn't make out what it was, but I instinctively covered my face anyway.

That was far too undignified an opening for a cannon-fodder character.

I continued watching through my fingers. Unlike the cute, dot-eyed characters in the preview comic, everyone this time was drawn with normal human proportions. And sure enough, the story opened at the Workhouse.

This should have been about the Rhodes case.

I had expected the camera to focus on Sherlock, but instead, two people I had never seen before appeared.

A blond young man wearing gold-rimmed glasses spoke to a black-haired young man beside him, who was holding a remote pointed at the Workhouse.

"Brother has already drawn everyone at the Workhouse away with a charity event. The only ones left are those who deserve punishment."

"No problem. Once that young homeless man leaves the Workhouse, I'll set it off with the remote. Speaking of which, couldn't I have handled this myself? Louis, what did you come along for?"

The slender blond young man, who looked somewhat frail, showed no expression. He simply said, "Brother told me to make sure everything was cleaned up."

I hadn't known that such a scene had taken place just before my deadly calamity arrived. But the explosion had indeed come out of nowhere, Sherlock hadn't made it a focus of his investigation, and the police had treated it as an accident.

As I wondered who these people were, a wave of colorful scrolling comments came rushing across the screen.

[Ahhhhhhhhh, Moriarty the Patriot, it's you!]

[The crazy beauties from Moriarty the Patriot are so my type!]

[What's Moriarty the Patriot?]

[It's a Japanese manga, Moriarty the Patriot. Set in Britain during the nineteenth century, it follows the protagonist Moriarty, who, in pursuit of equality and freedom, moves through society as the Lord of Crime, using crime to punish evil and death to awaken the people. He's a rare, highly intelligent! Handsome! Man!]

[The plot doesn't dumb anyone down. Moriarty really is highly intelligent. He and Sherlock go back and forth, and he gets the better of Sherlock several times.]

[Well, that's his home turf, so of course he has to have the upper hand. But this is Sherlock's world, so who knows who'll win?]

[Wow, this suddenly got exciting!]

[Wasn't Sherlock in the BBC series also caught in a trap Moriarty set? Speaking of which, I still think the way the BBC Moriarty's death was written was strange. He shot himself to make his trap more foolproof. I can understand it, but I still think it was strange. I wonder how they'll handle it with Moriarty the Patriot's Moriarty this time?]

[BBC Sherlock can't possibly lose!]

I've never watched Moriarty the Patriot. I'm so nervous. What should I do?

Why is everyone talking as though Sherlock might lose?

As I worried, a passing comment suddenly caught my attention.

[Who's this now?]

In the comic, a mysterious black-haired young man stood in the wind at a street corner, holding a phone and looking up at the building opposite him, facing Louis and Moran behind a window. It seemed he had seen through both of them at a glance.

Under the young man's "gaze," Louis and Moran's expressions immediately grew grave.

Had they been discovered?

[Oh my god! Louis and the others messed up right at the start and were spotted by a passerby.]

Moran acted decisively and pressed the detonator.

At a time like this, concealing their identities and covering up the crime were the most important things.

Yet although the blast was powerful enough to catch him in it, the black-haired passerby unexpectedly took a step back.

Just one step, and he escaped a deadly calamity.

Moran flew into a rage. "Damn it! Who the hell is that? He saw us. Are we going to be in trouble?"

Louis looked grave as well. "Even if he saw us, that doesn't necessarily mean he knows who we are. We'd better leave quickly. The police will be here soon."

The scrolling comments flooded the screen.

[Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, who is this guy?!]

[Louis and Moran from Moriarty's team were put on the back foot as soon as they appeared. Oh my god!]

[That's badass. How did he know there was going to be an explosion?]

[Why didn't the trailer mention this person? And what's with not letting us see his face clearly?]

[Even with the image this blurry, I can tell he's definitely a top-tier hunk.]

[He racked up the Moriarty faction's hostility and wariness the moment he appeared. This guy's really something! I can't wait to see how he escapes Moriarty and the others when they try to kill him to silence him later. It's bound to be exciting (rubs hands]

I couldn't take in any more of the on-screen comments.

Really!

I'd only been identifying landmarks back then. I hadn't seen a thing.

My inner cries for help were deafening inside the flat at 221B Baker Street...

—Today was my third day in London.

—I was very upset.!